"When the housekeeper disappeared, the stranger filled a bumper. 'Egad!' thought I, 'I'll try him now, whether he be radical or true-blue; and, lifting up the tumbler, I proposed, 'The glorious, pious, and immortal memory—'
"'Of the great and good King William,' says he, taking the word out of my mouth.
"'Who freed us from Pope and popery, knavery, slavery—'
"'Brass money, and wooden shoes,' returned the Northman.
"'May he who would not, on bare and bended knee, drink this toast, be rammed, crammed—'
"'And damned!' roared Magan, as if the sentiment came from his very heart. 'Here's the Pope in the pillory, and the Devil pelting priests at him!' cried the Northman; and, with a laugh, off went the bumpers, and we commenced the cards anew.
"Well, sir, that night I had the luck of thousands. The black bank-notes came over the table-cloth by the dozen; and, as the Northman lost his money, his temper went along with it. He cursed the cards, and their maker; swore he would book himself[66] against bones and paper for a twelvemonth; made tumbler after tumbler; and, as he drank them boiling from the kettle, I wondered how he could swallow poteen-punch hot enough to scald a pig.
"'Come,' says he, in a rage, 'I see how the thing will end; and the sooner I am cleaned out, the better. Instead of a beggarly flimsey, fork out a five-pound note.'
"'With all my heart,' replied I.
"'Curse of Cromwell attend upon all shoemakers!' ejaculated Mr. Magan, with a grin.