"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.
"'Phoo!—the devil sweep yourself and 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?'
"'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and howld your prate.'
"Well, what would you think but he shook his owld noddle, as much as to say he wouldn't; and so says I, 'Bad cess to the likes o' that I ever seen—throth if you were in my country, it's not that-a-way they'd use you; the curse o' the crows on you, you ould sinner,' says I; 'the divil a longer I'll darken your dure.'
"So he seen I was vexed, and I thought, as I was turnin' away, I seen him begin to relint, and that his conscience throubled him; and says I, turnin' back, 'Well, I'll give you one chance more—you owld thief—are you a Chrishthan at all at all?—are you a furriner,' says I, 'that all the world calls so p'lite? Bad luck to you, do you undherstand your own language?—Parly-voo frongsay?' says I.
"'We, munseer,' says he.
"'Then, thundher and turf,' says I, 'will you lind me the loan of a gridiron?'
"Well, sir, the divil resave the bit of it he'd gi' me—and so with that, 'The curse o' the hungry on you, you owld negardly villain,' says I; 'the back o' my hand and the sowl o' my foot to you; that you may want a gridiron yourself yet,' says I; 'and wherever I go, high and low, rich and poor, shall hear o' you,' says I; and with that I lift them there, sir, and kem away—and in throth it's often since that I thought that it was remarkable."