“'Ah! Mick,' says he; 'would you insult me?—sure we trace our pedigree up to the days of King Fergus; and the muscles wasn't known for whole ages after: they're fishes of yesterday,—mushrooms o' the ocean:—d—n the one o'thim knows whether or no he ever had a great-grandmother!—Mick, this is a bad upstart world we live in.'
“'It is,' says I; 'people thinks o' nobody but just their ownselves; and doesn't mind what inconvaniency they puts their fellow-cratures to, so as they ar'n't harried thimselves.'
“'True,' says he, 'Mick:—did you ever rade o' the Romans?'
“'I'm a Roman meeself, sir.'
“'Phugh!' says he; 'it's of rulligion ye're spaking!—I mane the ould Romans,—Romulus and Rebus,—Brutus and Brian Bora,—that sacrificed themselves for the good of their country:—thim's the examples we ought to follow, Mick! We should help our fellow-cratures too, in necessity, if it lies in our power; and not stand, shilly-shally, thinking and turning it over whether it will be to our advantage or not.'
“'Sir,' says I, 'your honour spakes my own sintimints; and sure never could a finer time come for practising what you preach, than now.—Luck up, your honour,—luck up, and see meeself, a poor fellow-crature, in distress fora mouthful;—I'm a part o' my country, and you're an Irishman born, I'll be sworn.' “'Mick,' says he; 'that's a different sort of a thing, intirely.'
“'Not at all,' says I; 'it's a case in point.'
“'Well, Mick,' says he; 'thin I will,—I will sacrifice meeself.'
“'And no thanks to you, sir,' says I; 'you know you'd be sacrificed by me, whether you sacrificed yourself or no. Ah, ah!' “'Ha, ha!' says he; 'that's true; and it's the way o' the world, Mick.'
“'And may be, sir,' says I, 'thim Romans yourself spoke about—'