'Your sarvint, ma'am,' says he; and off he set.
Well, he was in want of a horse, and so he wint to a field hard by, where the miller's horse was grazin', that used to carry the ground corn round the counthry.
'This is the idintical horse for me,' says the waiver; 'he is used to carryin' flour and male, and what am I but the flower o' shovelry in a coat o' mail; so that the horse won't be put out iv his way in the laste.'
But as he was ridin' him out o'the field, who should see him but the miller.
'Is it stalin' my horse you are, honest man?' says the miller.
'No,' says the waiver; 'I'm only goin' to axercise him,' says he, 'in the cool o' the evenin'; it will be good for his health.'
'Thank you kindly,' says the miller; 'but lave him where he is, and you'll obleege me.'
'I can't afford it,' says the waiver, runnin' the horse at the ditch.
'Bad luck to your impidence,' says the miller; 'you've as much tin about you as a thravellin' tinker, but you've more brass. Come back here, you vagabone,' says he.
But he was too late; away galloped the waiver, and took the road to Dublin, for he thought the best thing he could do was to go to the King o' Dublin (for Dublin was a grate place thin, and had a king iv its own), and he thought, maybe, the King o' Dublin would give him work. Well, he was four days goin' to Dublin, for the baste was not the best and the roads worse, not all as one as now; but there was no turnpikes then, glory be to God! When he got to Dublin, he wint sthrait to the palace, and whin he got into the coortyard he let his horse go and graze about the place, for the grass was growin' out betune the stones; everything was flourishin' thin in Dublin, you see. Well, the king was lookin' out of his dhrawin'-room windy, for divarshin, whin the waiver kem in; but the waiver pretended not to see him, and he wint over to a stone sate, undher the windy—for, you see, there was stone sates all round about the place for the accommodation o' the people—for the king was a dacent, obleeging man; well, as I said, the waiver wint over and lay down an one o' the sates, just undher the king's windy, and purtended to go asleep; but he took care to turn out the front of his shield that had the letthers an it; well, my dear, with that, the king calls out to one of the lords of his coort that was standin' behind him, howldin' up the skirt of his coat, accordin' to rayson, and says he: 'Look here,' says he, 'what do you think of a vagabone like that comin' undher my very nose to go sleep? It is thrue I'm a good king,' says he, 'and I 'commodate the people by havin' sates for them to sit down and enjoy the raycreation and contimplation of seein' me here, lookin' out a' my dhrawin'-room windy, for divarshin; but that is no rayson they are to make a hotel o' the place, and come and sleep here. Who is it at all?' says the king.