"To do you justice, Jack, the mutton was always good with you, only
if you would get it better killed it would be an improvement. Get Tom
McCusker to kill it, and then it'll have the right smack."

"Very well, yer Rev'rence, I'll do it."

"_On Tuesday, in Peter Murtagh's of the Crooked Commons_. Are you there,
Peter?"

"Here, yer Reverence."

"Indeed, Peter, I might know you are here; and I wish that a great many
of my flock would take example by you: if they did, I wouldn't be so
far behind in getting in my _dues_. Well, Peter, I suppose you know that
this is Michaelmas?"*

* Michaelmas is here jocularly alluded to as that period
of the year when geese are fattest.

"So fat, yer Reverence, that they're not able to wag; but, any way,
Katty has them marked for you--two fine young crathurs, only this year's
fowl, and the ducks isn't a taste behind them--she crammin' them this
month past."

"I believe you, Peter, and I would take your word for more than the
condition of the geese. Remember me to Katty, Peter."

"_On Wednesday, in Parrah More Slevin's of Mullaghfadh_. Are you there,
Parrah More?"--No answer. "Parrah More Sle-vin?"--Silence. "Parrah More