“But tell us where you got the pig, Paddy?” persisted the wit, struck naturally enough with the circumstance. “How do you come to have an Irish pig so far from home?”
“Fwhy thin, miss, 'twas to a brother o' my own I was bringing it, that was livin' down the counthry here, an' fwhin I came to fwhere he lived, the sarra one o' me knew the place, in regard o' havin' forgotten the name of it entirely, an' there was I wit the poor crathur an my hands, till his haner here bought it from me—Gad bless you, sir!”
“As I live, there's a fine Irish blunder,” observed the wit; “I shall put in my commonplace-book—it will be so genuine. I declare I'm quite delighted!”
“Well, Paddy,” said the gentleman, “here's your money. There's a pound for you, and that's much more than the miserable animal is worth.”
“Troth, sir, you have the crathur at what we call in Ireland a bargain.* Maybe yer haner 'ud spit upon the money fwhor luck, sir. It's the way we do, sir, beyant.”
* Ironically—a take in.
“No, no, Paddy, take it as it is. Good heavens! what barbarous habits these Irish have in all their modes of life, and how far they are removed from anything like civilization!”
“Thank yer haner. Faix, sir, this'll come so handy for the landlord at kome, in regard o' the rint for the bit o' phatie ground, so it will, if I can get home agin widout brakin' it. Arrah, maybe yer haner 'ud give me the price o' my bed, an' a bit to ate, sir, an' keep me from brakin' in upon this, sir, Gad bless the money! I'm thinkin' o' the poor wife an' childher, sir—strivin', so I am, to do fwhor the darlins.”
“Poor soul,” said the lady, “he is affectionate in the midst of his wretchedness and ignorance.”
“Here—here,” replied the Englishman, anxious to get rid of him, “there's a shilling, which I give because you appear to be attached to your family.”