_praties_ over the big, black rocks, down it comes, one tumble over the
other, the green trees all the while stretching out their arms as if
they wanted to stop it. And then it makes such a _dickins_ of a _nise_
as it pounces into that black pool at the bottom, that it's enough to
bother the brains of a man entirely. Why, then, isn't it a wonder how
all that water sprung up out of the mountain? for sure, isn't there a
bit of a lake above there, in the hollow of the hill that the waterfall
comes out of,--they calls it O'Sullivan's Punch Bowl?"

"And, pray, who was this O'Sullivan that had such a capacious Punch
Bowl?"

"Och, then, 'tis he's the fine, portly looking _jantleman_, and has a
_vice_ (voice) as big as twenty; 'twould do your heart good to hear the
cry of him on a stag hunt day, making the mountain ring again."

"Well, Doolan, you haven't told me all this time who O'Sullivan is."

"Why, then, that's the _quare_ question for your honour to be after
_axing_ me. Sure all the country knows O'Sullivan of Toomies, for didn't
him, and his father before him, live at the butt end of the mountain,
near the neck of the Lawn; and wasn't they great chieftains in the
_ould_ times; and hadn't they a great sketch of country to themselves:
they haven't so much now, for their hearts were too big for their
_manes_ (means;) and that's the _rason_ O'Sullivan was obligated to sell
this part of the mountain to Mr. Herbert of Mucruss?"

"A sad story this, Doolan; but it seems to me these O'Sullivans must
have been very fond of a bowl of punch, or why is the lake you mentioned
called O'Sullivan's Punch Bowl?"