“Why, confound it, Malcomson, that fellow's more like a beggarman than a gardener.”
“Saul, but he's a capital hand for a' that. Your honor's no' to tak the beuk by the cover. To be sure he's awfully vulgar, but, ma faith, he has a richt gude knowledgeable apprehension o' buttany and gerdening in generhal.”
The squire then approached our under-gardener, and accosted him,
“Well, my good fellow, so you understand gardening?”
“A little, your haner,” replied the other, respectfully touching his hat, or caubeen rather.
“Are you a native of this neighborhood?”
“No, your haner. I'm fwaither up—from Westport, your haner.”
“Who were you engaged with last?”
“I wasn't engaged, shir—it was only job-work I was able to do—the health wasn't gud wid me.”
“Have you no better clothes than these?”