J. De Quincey (185-).
“I’LL MAKE THE PURTIEST BRIDE IN THE LAND OF YOU.”
THE FIRST LORD LIFTINANT.
(AS RELATED BY ANDREW GERAGHTY, PHILOMATH.)
“Essex,” said Queen Elizabeth, as the two of them sat at breakwhist in the back parlour of Buckingham Palace, “Essex, me haro, I’ve got a job that I think would suit you. Do you know where Ireland is?”
“I’m no great fist at jografy,” says his lordship, “but I know the place you mane. Population, three million; exports, emigrants.”
“Well,” says the Queen, “I’ve been reading the Dublin Evening Mail and the Telegraft for some time back, and sorra one o’ me can get at the trooth o’ how things is goin’, for the leadin’ articles is as conthradictory as if they wor husband and wife.”
“That’s the way wid papers all the world over,” says Essex; “Columbus told me it was the same in Amerikay, when he was there, abusin’ and conthradictin’ each other at every turn—it’s the way they make their livin’. Thrubble you for an egg-spoon.”
“It’s addled they have me betune them,” says the Queen. “Not a know I know what’s goin’ on. So now, what I want you to do is to run over to Ireland, like a good fella, and bring me word how matters stand.”