you tould me this. I now see the hand of God in the whole business. I
know this box an' I can tell you something that will surprise you more
than that. Listen--but wait--I hear somebody's foot. No matter--I'll
surprise you both by an' by."

"Godsave all here," said the voice of our friend, Jemmy Branigan, who
immediately entered. "In troth, this change is for the betther, at any
rate," said he, looking at the house; "I gave you a lift wid the masther
yestherday," he added, turning to the woman. "I think I'll get him to
throw the ten shillings off--he as good as promised me he would."

"Masther!" exclaimed the pedlar, bitterly--"oh, thin, it's he that's the
divil's masther, by all accounts, an' the divil's landlord, too. Be me
sowl, he'll get a warm corner down here;" and as he uttered the
words, he very significantly stamped with his heel, to intimate the
geographical position of the place alluded to.

"It would be only manners to wait till your opinion is axed of him,"
replied Jemmy; "so mind your pack, you poor sprissaun, or when you do
spake, endeavor to know something of what you're discoorsin' about.
Masther, indeed! Divil take your impidence!"

"He's a scourge to the counthry," continued the pedlar; "a worse
landlord never faced the sun."

"That's what we call in this part of the counthry--a lie," replied
Jemmy. "Do you understand what that manes?"

"No one knows what an' outrageous ould blackguard he is betther than
yourself," proceeded the pedlar; "an' how he harrishes the poor."

"That's ditto repated," responded Jemmy; "you're improvrn'--but tell me
now do you know any one that he harrished?"

This was indeed a hazardous question on the part of Jemmy; who, by the
way, put it solely upon the presumption of the peddlar's ignorance of
Dick's proceedings as a landlord, in consequence of his (the pedlar)
being a stranger.

"Who did you ever know that he harrished, i' you please?"

"Look at the Daltons," replied the other; "what do you call his conduct
to them?"

Jemmy, who, whenever he felt himself deficient in truth, always made
up for the want of it by warmth of temper, now turned shortly upon his
antagonist, and replied, in a spirit very wide of the argument--

"What do I call his conduct to them? What do you call the nose on your
face, my codger? Divil a sich an impident crature ever I met."

"It would be no wondher that the curse o' God would come on him for his
tratement to that unfortunate an