Teag. A fulusipher. My father was a fulusipher; besides, he was a man under great authority by law, condemning the just and clearing the guilty. Do you know how they call the horse's mother?
Tom. Why, they call her a mare.
Teag. A mare, ay, very well minded. My father was a mare in Cork.
Tom. And what riches was left you by the death of your mother?
Teag. A bad luck to her own barren belly, for she lived in great plenty, and died in great poverty; devoured up all or she died, but two hens and a pockful of potatoes—a poor estate for an Irish gentleman, in faith.
Tom. And what did you make of the hens and potatoes? Did you sow them?
Teag. Arra, dear shoy, I sowed them in my belly, and sold the hens to a cadger.
Tom. What business did your mother follow after?
Teag. Greatly in the merchant way.
Tom. And what sort of goods did she deal in?