'“Troth!” said I, “if the country is not in very low spirits, I think they will.”
'“There's not a man of them can see!—their eyes are actually closed up!”
'“The Lord be praised!” said I. “It's not likely they'll hit me.”
'But to make a short story of it—out we went. Tom Burke was my friend. I could scarce hold my pistol with laughing; for such faces no man ever looked at. But for self-preservation's sake, I thought it best to hit one of them; so I just pinked Ffrench a little under the skirt of the coat. '“Come, Lambert!” said the Colonel, “it's your turn now.”
'“Wasn't that Lambert,” said I, “that I hit?”
'“No,” said he, “that was Ffrench.”
'“Begad, I'm sorry for it. Ffrench, my dear fellow, excuse me; for you see you're all so like each other about the eyes this morning——”
'With this there was a roar of laughing from them all, in which, I assure you, Lambert took not a very prominent part; for somehow he didn't fancy my polite inquiries after him. And so we all shook hands, and left the ground as good friends as ever—though to this hour the name of Newgate brings less pleasant recollections to their minds than if their fathers had been hanged at its prototype.'