“‘We, munseer,’ says he, mighty sharp.
“‘Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron?’ says I, ‘and you’ll obleege me.’
“Well, sir, the ould chap began to munseer me; but the divil a bit of a gridiron he’d gi’ me; and so I began to think they wor all neygars, for all their fine manners; and, throth, my blood begun to rise, and says I, ‘By my sowl, if it was you was in disthress,’ says I, ‘and if it was to ould Ireland you kem, it’s not only the gridiron they’d give you, if you axed it, but something to put an it, too, and the drop o’ dhrink into the bargain, and cead mile failte.’
“Well, the word cead mile failte seemed to sthreck his heart, and the ould chap cocked his ear, and so I thought I’d give him another offer, and make him sinsible at last; and so says I, wanst more, quite slow, that he might understand, ‘Parly—voo—frongsay, munseer?’
“‘We, munseer,’ says he.
“‘Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,’ says I, ‘and bad scram to you.’
“Well, bad win to the bit of it he’d gi’ me, and the ould chap begins bowin’ and scrapin’, and said something or other about a long tongs. [1]
[1] Some mystification of Paddy’s touching the French n’tends.
“‘Phoo!—the divil swape yourself and your tongs,’ says I; ‘I don’t want a tongs at all at all; but can’t you listen to raison?’ says I. ‘Parly voo frongsay?’
“‘We, munseer.’