“‘Well, what do you want now’!’ savs I, lifting up the lid the laste taste in life.
“‘I’ll tell you what, Felix, I’ll give you twenty goolden guineas if you’ll let me out.’
“‘Soft was your horn, my little fellow; your offer don’t shoot.’
“‘I’ll give you fifty.
“‘No.’
“‘A hundred.’
“’T won’t do. If you were to offer me all the money in the Cork bank I wouldn’t take it.’
“‘What the diaoul will you take then?’ says the little ould chap, reddening like a turkey-cock in the gills with anger.
“‘I’ll tell you,’ says I, making answer; ‘I’ll take the three best gifts that you can bestow.’”
(To be continued.)