said, "_Yirroo Pandhrig_ of the tricks, if I thought you were going on
with any work here, my soul and my guts to the devil if I would not
cut you into garters. By the vestment I'd make a _furhurmeen_ of you."

"Is it I, Andy? That the hands may fall off me!"

But Tim Cohill made a most seasonable diversion. "Andy, when you die,
you'll be the death of one fool, any how. What do you know that wasn't
ever in Cork itself about tripes. I never ate such mate in my life;
and 'twould be good for every poor man in the County of Kerry if he
had a tub of it."

Tim's tone of authority, and the character he had got for learning,
silenced every doubt, and all laid siege to the tripes again. But
after some time, Andy was observed gazing with the most astonished
curiosity into the plate before him. His eyes were rivetted on
something; at last he touched it with his knife, arid exclaimed,
"_Kirhappa, dar dhia!_"--[A button by G--.]

"What's that you say?" burst from all! and every one rose in the best
manner he could, to learn the meaning of the button.

"Oh, the villain of the world!" roared Andy, "I'm pisoned! Where's the
pike? For God's sake Jack, run for the priest, or I'm a dead man with
the breeches. Where is he?--yeer bloods won't ye catch him, and I
pisoned?"

The fact was, Andy had met one of the knee-buttons sewed into a piece
of the tripe, and it was impossible for him to fail discovering the
cheat. The rage, however, was not confined to Andy. As soon as it was