Katy. If you plase, mam, I have a letther; and would you plase rade it for me?
Mrs. C. (Takes letter.) Certainly, Katy. From your lover?
Katy. Indeed, mam, I have no lover. It's my cousin, mam.
Mrs. C. O, your cousin. (Opens letter.) "Light ov my sowl!" Why, this cannot be your cousin.
Katy. Indade, indade, it be, sure! It's only the insinivatin' way he has, mam!
Mrs. C. (Reads.)
"Bewitchin' Katy! and how are ye's onyhow? I take my pin in hand to till ye's I am yurs, in good hilth and sphirits; and it's hopin' ye's the same, truly! The pulsitations uv my heart are batin' wid the love I bears ye's, darlin' Katy! the fairest flower—niver mind the blot—that iver bloomed an the family tree uv Phil Doolan uv Tipperary, dead and gone this siven years, bliss his sowl,—and how are ye's? An' by the same token that I loves ye's much, I sind by the ixpriss, freight paid, a new bunnit, which my cousin Biddy Ryan, for my dear love, have made for ye's charmin' Katy Doolan! Wear it nixt ye's heart! And if ye git it before this letther coomes to hand, ye's may know it is from
Your ever sighin',
Wid love for ye's dyin',
Cornalius Ryan.
P.S. If ye's don't resave this letther, sind me word uv mouth by the man who fetches the bunnit."
Mrs. C. That's a very loving epistle.
Katy. Pistol, it is? Faith, I thought it was a letther.