"Hallo, Pat! are yez goin' ter see the 'clipse?"
"Faith, Tim, oive no tiliscope."
"Oi wonder at yer ignorance. Go home an' smoke some glass if yez want ter see it. That's as good as all the tiliscopes yez can git."
"Shure if that's all yez have ter do, that's aisy enough."
Some hours later Tim was passing down the street when he espied Pat sitting on his stoop staring at the sky and madly pulling away at a short stump of a pipe from which no smoke issued.
"Did yez see the 'clipse, Pat?" he called out.
"Nary a bit of wan have I seen. Is it over?"
"Over? Sure; an hour ago."
"Well, then" (and here Pat hurled his pipe out into the road), "it's all the fault of that glass. Oi must have smoked the wrong kind."