“Well, well,” said Fergus, “it isn't him I'm thinking of; but if I had a mouthful or two of something to ait I'd go to sleep—for dear knows I'm tired and hungry.”
“Why, then, of coorse you'll have something to ait, poor man, and while you're eatin' it I'll fetch in a good bunch of straw, and make a comfortable shake-down for you.”
“God mark you to grace, avourneen!”
She then furnished him with plenty of oaten bread and mixed milk, and while he was helping himself she brought in a large launch of straw, which she shook out and settled for him.
“I see,” said she, “that you have your own blankets.”
“I have, acushla. Cheerna, but this is darlin' bread! Arra was this baked upon a griddle or against the muddhia arran?”*.
* The muddhia arran was a forked branch, cut from a tree,
and shaped exactly like a letter A—with a small stick
behind to support it. A piece of hoop iron was nailed to
it at the bottom, on which the cake rested—not
horizontally, but opposite the fire. When one side was done
the other was turned, and thus it was baked.
“A griddle! Why, then, is it the likes o' me would have a griddle? that indeed! No; but, any how, sure a griddle only scalds the bread; but you'll find that this is not too much done; bekaise you know the ould proverb, 'a raw dad makes a fat lad.'”
“Troth,” replied Fergus, “it's good bread, and fills the boast** of a man's body; but now that I've made a good supper, I'll throw myself on the straw, for I feel as if my eyelids had a millstone apiece upon them. I never shtrip at night, but just throws my blanket over me, an' sleeps like a top. Glory be to God! Oh, then, there's nothing like the health ma'am: may God spare it to us! Amin, this night!”
** Boast—a figurative term, taken from a braggadocio or
boaster; it applies to any thing that is hollow or
deceitful: for instance, when some potatoes that grow
unusually large are cut in two, an empty space is found in
the centra, and that potato is termed boast, or empty.