Pat Hanlon, the piper, had a faver out iv it; an’ Neddy Shawn Heigue, mountin’ his horse the wrong way, broke his collar-bone, by the manes iv fallin’ over his tail while he was feelin’ for his head; an’ Payther Brian, the horse-docther, I am tould, was never quite right in the head ever afther; an’ ould Tim Donovan was singin’ the “Colleen Rue” night and day for a full week; an’, begorra the weddin’ was only the foundation iv fun, and the beginning iv divarsion, for there was not a year for ten years afther, an’ more, but brought round a christenin’ as regular as the sasins revarted.
A Pleasant Journey.
From the Confessions of Harry Lorrequer.
By Charles Lever.
I, Harry Lorrequer, was awaiting the mail coach anxiously in the Inn at Naas, when at last there was the sound of wheels, and the driver came into the room, a spectacle of condensed moisture.
“Going on to-night, sir,” said he, addressing me; “severe weather, and no chance of its clearing—but, of course, you’re inside.”
“Why, there is very little doubt of that,” said I. “Are you nearly full inside?”
“Only one, sir; but he seems a real queer chap; made fifty inquiries at the office if he could not have the whole inside for himself, and when he heard that one place had been taken—yours, I believe, sir,—he seemed like a scalded bear.”