"As I live, there's a fine Irish blunder," observed the wit; "I shall
put in my commonplace-book--it will be so genuine. I declare I'm quite
delighted!"

"Well, Paddy," said the gentleman, "here's your money. There's a pound
for you, and that's much more than the miserable animal is worth."

"Troth, sir, you have the crathur at what we call in Ireland a bargain.*
Maybe yer haner 'ud spit upon the money fwhor luck, sir. It's the way we
do, sir, beyant."

* Ironically--a take in.

"No, no, Paddy, take it as it is. Good heavens! what barbarous habits
these Irish have in all their modes of life, and how far they are
removed from anything like civilization!"

"Thank yer haner. Faix, sir, this'll come so handy for the landlord at
kome, in regard o' the rint for the bit o' phatie ground, so it will, if
I can get home agin widout brakin' it. Arrah, maybe yer haner 'ud give
me the price o' my bed, an' a bit to ate, sir, an' keep me from brakin'
in upon this, sir, Gad bless the money! I'm thinkin' o' the poor wife
an' childher, sir--strivin', so I am, to do fwhor the darlins."

"Poor soul," said the lady, "he is affectionate in the midst of his
wretchedness and ignorance."

"Here--here," replied the Englishman, anxious to get rid of him,
"there's a shilling, which I give because you appear to be attached to