“Who’s that, that dar call me nicknames,” says Terence inside, roaring wid the fair passion; “let me out, you blasphamious infiddles,” says he, “or by this crass, I’ll stretch ye,” says he.
“Who are ye?” says Thady.
“Who would I be but Terence Mooney,” says he, “It’s myself that’s in it, you unmerciful bliggards,” says he; “let me out, or I’ll get out in spite iv yez,” says he, “an’ I’ll wallop yez in arnest,” says he.
“It’s ould Terence, sure enough,” says Thady; “isn’t it cute the fairy docthor found him out,” says he.
“I’m on the p’int iv suffication,” says Terence; “let me out, I tell ye, an’ wait till I get at ye,” says he, “for sorra a bone in your body but I’ll powdher,” says he; an’ wid that he bigined kickin’ and flingin’ in the hamper, and drivin’ his legs agin the sides iv it, that it was a wondher he did not knock it to pieces. Well, as the boys seen that, they skelped the ould horse into a gallop as hard as he could peg towards the priest’s house, through the ruts, an’ over the stones; an’ you’d see the hamper fairly flyin’ three feet in the air with the joultin’; so it was small wondher, by the time they got to his Raverance’s door, the breath was fairly knocked out iv poor Terence; so that he was lyin’ speechless in the bottom iv the hamper. Well, whin his Raverance kem down, they up an’ they tould him all that happened, an’ how they put the gandher into the hamper, an’ how he begined to spake, an’ how he confissed that he was ould Terence Mooney; and they axed his honour to advise them how to get rid iv the sperit for good an’ all. So says his Raverance, says he:
“I’ll take my booke,” says he, “an’ I’ll read some rale sthrong holy bits out iv it,” says he, “an’ do you get a rope and put it round the hamper,” says he, “an’ let it swing over the runnin’ wather at the bridge,” says he, “an’ it’s no matther if I don’t make the sperit come out iv it,” says he.
Well, wid that, the priest got his horse, an’ tuk his booke in undher his arum, an’ the boys follied his Raverance, ladin’ the horse, and Terence houldin’ his whisht, for he seen it was no use spakin’, an’ he was afeard if he med any noise they might thrait him to another gallop an’ finish him intirely. Well, as soon as they wur all come to the bridge the boys tuk the rope they had with them, an’ med it fast to the top iv the hamper an’ swung it fairly over the bridge; lettin’ it hang in the air about twelve feet out iv the wather; and his Raverance rode down to the bank iv the river, close by, an’ begined to read mighty loud and bould intirely.
An’ when he was goin’ on about five minutes, all at onst the bottom iv the hamper kem out, an’ down wint Terence, falling splash dash into the wather, an’ the ould gandher a-top iv him; down they both wint to the bottom wid a souse you’d hear half-a-mile off; an’ before they had time to rise agin, his Raverance, wid a fair astonishment, giv his horse one dig iv the spurs, an’ before he knew where he was, in he went, horse and all, a-top iv them, an’ down to the bottom. Up they all kem agin together, gaspin’ an puffin’, an’ off down the current with them like shot, in undher the arch iv the bridge, till they kem to the shallow wather. The ould gandher was the first out, an’ the priest and Terence kem next, pantin’ an’ blowin’ an’ more than half dhrounded: an’ his Raverance was so freckened wid the dhroundin’ he got, and wid the sight iv the sperit, as he consaved, that he wasn’t the better iv it for a month. An’ as soon as Terence could spake, he said he’d have the life iv the two gossoons; but Father Crotty would not give him his will; an’ as soon as he got quieter they all endeavoured to explain it, but Terence consayved he went raly to bed the night before, an’ his Raverance said it was a mysthery, an’ swore if he cotched anyone laughin’ at the accident, he’d lay the horsewhip across their shoulders; an’ Terence grew fonder an’ fonder iv the gandher every day, until at last he died in a wondherful ould age, lavin’ the gandher afther him an’ a large family iv childer; an’ to this day the farm is rinted by one iv Terence Mooney’s lineal legitimate postariors.