“Now here we draw a line to your son Dan's. Let me see; he keeps a mill, an' sells cloth. Very good. I'll dhraw a mill-wheel an' a yard-wand. There's two tumblers. Will you know that?”
“I see it: go an, nothin' can be clearer. So far, I can't go asthray.”
“Well, what next? Two behind your own garden. What metaphor for the garden? Let me see!—let me cogitate! A dragon—the Hesperides! That's beyant you. A bit of a hedge will do, an' a gate.”
“Don't put a gate in, it's not lucky. You know, when a man takes to dhrink, they say he's goin' a gray gate, or a black gate, or a bad gate. Put that out, an' make the hedge longer, an' it'll do—wid the two tumblers, though.”
“They're down. One at the Reverend Father Mulcahy's. How will we thranslate the priest?”
“Faix, I doubt that will be a difficquilt business.”
“Upon my reputation, I agree wid you in that, especially whin he repates Latin. However, we'll see. He writes P.P. afther his name;—pee-pee is what we call the turkeys wid. What 'ud you think o' two turkeys?”
“The priest would like them roasted, but I couldn't undherstand that. No; put down the sign o' the horsewhip, or the cudgel; for he's handy, an' argues well wid both?”
“Good! I'll put down the horsewhip first, an' the cudgel alongside of it; then the tumbler, an' there'll be the sign o' the priest.”
“Ay, do, Masther, an' faix the priest 'll be complate—there can be no mistakin' him thin. Divil a one but that's a good thought!”