nter.

"Ay, ay, Dandy; but, be me sowl, if they only go as far as your own
goodness sint you before now, it'll be seven years before they come back
again; eh, do you smell anything?--ha, ha, ha!"

"The big boshthoon hot me fairly, begad," observed the Dandy.
Aside--"The divil's own tongue he has."

"Bad cess to you for a walkin' bonfire, an' go home," replied the Dandy;
"I'm not a match for you wid the tongue, at all at all"

"No, nor wid anything else, barrin' your heels," replied the Rouser; "or
your hands, if there was a horse in the way. Arrah, Dandy?"

"Well, you graceful youth, well?"

"You ought to be a good workman by this time; you first lamed your
thrade, an' thin you put in your apprenticeship--ha, ha, ha!"

"Faith, an' Rouser I can promise you a merry end, my beatity; you'll be
the only man that'll dance at your own funeral; an' I'll tell you what,
Rouser, it'll be like an egg-hornpipe, wid your eyes covered. That's
what I call an active death, avouchal!"

"Faith, an' if you wor a priest, Dandy, you'd never die with your face
to the congregation. You'll be a rope-dancer yourself yet; only this,
Dandy, that you'll be undher the rope instead of over it, so good
night."

"Rouser," exclaimed the other. "Rousin Redhead!"

"Go home," replied the Rouser. "Good night, I say; you've thravelled a
great deal too far for an ignorant man like me to stand any chance
wid you. Your tongue's lighter than your hands (In Ireland, to be
light--handed signifies to be a thief) even, and that's payin' it a high
compliment."

"Divil sweep you, Brien," said Dandy, "you'd beat the divil an' Docthor
Fosther, Good night again!"

"Oh, ma bannaght laht, I say."

And they accordingly parted.

"Now," said Ned, "what's to be done Dandy? As sure as gun's iron,
this limb of hell will take away the Bodagh's daughter, if we don't do
something to prevent it."

"I'm not puttin' it past him," returned his companion, "but how to
prevent it is the thing. He has the boys all on his side, barrin'
yourself and me, an' a few more."

"An' you see, Ned, the Bodagh is so much hated, that even some of thim
that don't like Flanagan, won't scruple to join him in this."

"An' if we were known to let the cat out o' the bag to the Bodagh, we
might as well prepare our coffins at wanst."

"Faith, sure enough--that's but gospel, Ned," replied the Dandy; still
it 'ud be the _milliah_ murdher to let the double-faced villin carry off
such a gir