sir,' says
I, 'but it's only in the regard of bein' cast away; and if you plase,
sir,' says I, '_parly voo frongsay_?'

"'We, munseer,' says he, mighty sharp.

"'Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron!' says I, 'and you'll
obleege me.'

"Well, sir, the ould chap began to munseer me; but the devil a bit of a
gridiron he'd gi' me; and so I began to think they wor all neygars, for
all their fine manners; and throth my blood begun to rise, and says I,
'By my sowl, if it was you was in distriss,' says I, 'and if it was to
ould Ireland you kem, it's not only the gridiron they'd give you, if you
axed it, but something to put an it, too, and the drop o' dhrink into
the bargain, and _cead mile failte_.'

"Well, the word _cead mile failte_ seemed to sthreck his heart, and the
ould chap cocked his ear, and so I thought I'd give him another offer,
and make him sensible at last: and so says I, wanst more, quite slow,
that he might understand,--'_Parly--voo--frongsay_, munseer.'

"'We, munseer,' says he.

"'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and bad scram to you.'

"Well, bad win to the bit of it he'd gi' me, and the ould chap begins
bowin' and scrapin', and said something or other about a long tongs.[D]

[D] Some mystification of Paddy's touching the French _n'entends_.

"'Phoo!--the divil swape yourself and your tongs,' says I, 'I don't want
a tongs at all at all; but can't you listen to raison,' says I,--'_Parly
voo frongsay_?'

"'We, munseer.'

"'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and howld your prate.'

"Well, what would you think, but he shook his old noddle as much as to
say he wouldn't; and so, says I, 'Bad cess to the likes o' that I ever
seen,--throth if you wor in my counthry it's not that away they'd use
you. The curse o' the crows an you, you owld sinner,' says I, 'the divil
a longer I'll darken your door.'

"So he seen I was vexed, and I thought, as I was turnin' away, I seen
him begin to relint, and that his conscience throubled him; and says I,
turnin' back, 'Well, I'll give one chance more,--you ould thief,--are
you a Chrishthan at all? are you a furriner!' says I, 'that all the
world calls so p'lite? Bad luck to you, do you understand your own
language?--_Parly voo frongsay_?' says I.

"'We, munseer,' says he.

"'Then, thunder an' turf,' says I, 'will you lind me the loan of a
gridiron?'

"Well, sir, the devil resave the bit of it he'd gi' me,--and so, with
that,