"Paddy," said the gentleman, anticipating him, "I have ordered you sacks
and straw in the barn, and your breakfast in the morning before you set
out."

"Thrath," said Phil, "if there's e'er a stray blissin' goin', depind an
it, sir, you'll get it fwhor your hanerable ginerosity to the sthranger.
But about the 'slip,' sir--if the misthress herself 'ud shake the whisp
o' sthraw fwhor her in the far carner o' the kitchen below, an' see her
gettin' her supper, the crathur, before she'd put her to bed, she'd be
thrivin' like a salmon, sir, in less than no time; and to ardher the
sarwints, sir, if you plase, not to be defraudin' the crathur of the big
phaties. Fwhor in regard it cannot spake fwhor itself, sir, it frets as
wise as a Christyeen, when it's not honestly thrated."

"Never fear, Paddy; we shall take good care of it."

"Thank you, sir, but I aften heered, sir, that you dunno how to feed
pigs in this counthry in ardher to mix the fwhat an' lane, lair (layer)
about."

"And how do you manage that in Ireland, Paddy?"

"Fwhy, sir, I'll tell you how the misthress Gad bless her, will manage
it fwhor you. Take the crathur, sir, an' feed it to-morrow, till its as
full as a tick--that's for the fwhat, sir; thin let her give it nothin'
at all the next day, but keep it black fwhastin'--that's fwhor the lane
(leap). Let her stick to that, sir, keepin' it atin' one day an' fastin'
an-odher, for six months, thin put a knife in it, an' if you don't have
the fwhat an' lane, lair about, beautiful all out, fwhy nirer bl'eve
Phadrumshagh Corfuffle agin. Ay, indeed!"