Thin he hum'd an' he haw'd, an' he started agin,
But he'd met wid his equal in Rory O'Flynn.
Thin the smoile died away, an' a frown come instead,
But for all that he tould me, Oi jist shook me head,
Not Quite the Same Thing.—Merciful Traveller. "Your little horse has been going well. When do you bait him?" Pat. "Ah, shure, it's been a purty livel road, sor: but Oi'l have to bate him goin' up Sloggin Derry Hill, sor!"