"'Forby, Jamie, we've given Antrim more'n such men as Lord Massarene.'
"'What's that?' says I.
"'A maan that loves th' poorest craithers on earth an' serves thim.'
"She had a gey good sleep afther that."
"'Jamie,' says she whin she awoke, 'was I ravin'?'
"'Deed no, Anna,' says I.
"'I'm not ravin' now, am I?'
"'Acushla, why do ye ask sich a question?'
"'Tell 'im I didn't like "fisher ov men" as well as "th' plowman." It's aisy t' catch thim fish, it's hard t' plow up ignorance an' superstition—tell 'im that fur me, Jamie?'
"'Aye, I'll tell 'im, dear.'