Shortly after my friend the sailor had concluded his account of De Courcy we arrived in the vicinity of a small town or rather considerable village. It stood on the right-hand side of the road, fronting the east, having a high romantic hill behind it on the sides of which were woods, groves, and pleasant-looking white houses.
“What place is this?” said I to my companion.
“This is —, your honour; and here, if your honour will accept a glass of whiskey we will splice the mainbrace together.”
“Thank you,” said I; “but I am in haste to get to Swansea. Moreover, if I am over fond of the drop, as you say I am, the sooner I begin to practise abstinence the better.”
“Very true, your honour! Well, at any rate, when your honour gets to Swansea you will not be able to say that Pat Flannagan walked for miles with your honour along the road without offering your honour a glass of whiskey.”
“Nor shall Pat Flannagan be able to say the same thing of my honour. I have a shilling in my pocket at Pat Flannagan’s service, if he chooses to splice with it the mainbrace for himself and for me.”
“Thank your honour; but I have a shilling in my own pocket, and a dollar too, and a five-pound note besides; so I needn’t be beholden for drink money to anybody under the sun.”
“Well then, farewell! Here’s my hand!—Slan leat a Phatraic ui Flannagan!”
“Slan leat a dhuine-uasail!” said Patrick, giving me his hand; “and health, hope and happiness to ye.”
Thereupon he turned aside to —, and I continued my way to Swansea. Arrived at a place called Glandwr, about two miles from Swansea, I found that I was splashed from top to toe, for the roads were frightfully miry, and was sorry to perceive that my boots had given way at the soles, large pieces of which were sticking out. I must, however, do the poor things the justice to say that it was no wonder that they were in this dilapidated condition, for in those boots I had walked at least two hundred miles, over all kinds of paths, since I had got them soled at Llangollen. “Well,” said I to myself, “it won’t do to show myself at Swansea in this condition, more especially as I shall go to the best hotel; I must try and get myself made a little decent here.” Seeing a little inn on my right I entered it, and addressing myself to a neat, comfortable landlady, who was standing within the bar, I said—