Hezekiah. Yes.
Barney. I have ambishun like that. Then I could go to the hospittle when the whiskey makes me sick, and be kapin’ out of the fight. (Trying to see something on Barney’s back, when Barney turns back to the audience. As he does, Hez. says—)
Hezekiah. Ye know how to protect yer rear. (Lifts Barney’s coat tail, and exhibits a black patch as large as a chair bottom, sewed on Barney’s seat.)
Barney. (Swelling with rage.) I do that! I’m a jintleman! No blackguard! I poke no fun to make a laugh on a jintleman! Whin a blackguard attacks me reputation, I don’t care what he says! When he puts his dirty hands on my karrackter, I will resint it like a man! I’m an Irishman, and me honor’s me own! I have no cheap words with a blackguard without the iddication of a jintleman! I am no thafe to be spit upon! Come out! Come out! (Motioning towards R. U. E.) Come out! (Hez. hands a bottle towards him. Barney catches sight of it as he says—) Come—(Breaks down in a broad grin.) What kind er wather is that?
Hezekiah. Medicine for fits. (Barney drinks.) Old Deacon Jones took about a quart er that once, by mistake. Said he thought the whole neighborhood was a jewsharp, and he was playin’ on it.
Barney. ’Pon my word!
Hezekiah. Know’d of a feller in Shadagy, that was brought up on that.
Barney. That same?
Hezekiah. Yes sir.
Barney. How long was he doin’ that?