"O! blur' an' oons, boys, if here isn't Mr. Power!"
The planks were shoved over, and, at the same moment, half a dozen voices greeted me with the accustomed
"Here's a coach, Mr. Power!"
"Och! sure your honour'll go wid me this turn, for luck!"
"You're welcome, Mr. P——: long life to yez! it's I've the coach'll whip you up to ould Barnums', snug and dry, in no time."
In the midst of this din, whilst I was yet on the plank, I perceived a tall raw-boned Tipperary lad, who had evidently decided on appropriating me, making his way most unceremoniously through the crowd, shouting out in a tone that drowned all competitors,
"Och! thin', will yez stop yer bawling, and don't bother Mr. Power, when his own carriage has bin waiting for him here these two hours."
An appeal like this was not to be resisted: I therefore accompanied my friend to my own carriage; and whatever doubts I might entertain as to this part of my friend's statement, the fact of its having been in waiting for "these two hours" I could readily credit; for I found it half full of snow. I observed upon its condition, saying that, as I was expected, my carriage might have been better looked after.
"Wasn't I below looking afther ye're honour, and that's the way the snow got in without my seein' it: indeed, we're not a dale used to snows here away; but I'll have it out and turn the cushions, and powdher you up to the hotel in a minute."
All this was said and done in an accent and with a manner that made me for a moment forget the wharf of Baltimore, and fancy myself at the foot of Essex bridge, or landing on the pier of Kingston.