“'Blarney and humbug, Mick!—blarney and humbug!—They did just what Shawn O' Shaugnessy did, while ago,—jump overboard to show his bravery, when he knew the ship was sinking.—But don't be in a hurry, Mick,' says he, seeing me licking my lips, and getting nearer him;—'although, Mick, I have no wish to live; for an oysther's life is a sad one, Mick.'
“'Ah! sir,' says I, 'and so is Mick Maguire's.'
“'I've every wish in the world to travel into all foreign parts.' “'And so have I, sir.'
“'But a snail's better off than I am.—Can't he take a trip, with his house on his back, and look about him whin he likes?' “'That's just my own case,' says I; 'there's John Carroll, the pedlar, takes his pack on his shoulther, and travels from Clonmell to Carrick,—from Carrick to Stradbally, and all over the rest of the world, two or three times a week.'
“'Oh! musha! Mick,' says he, 'don't grumble; you're not half so bad off as I am:—it's tied by the back, I am, to the floor of my house, and I can't stir a foot.'
“'It isn't much money yourself spinds in brogues and stockings, thin,' says I.—'Ah! thim brogues ates a man out of house and home, intirely!—Does your honour know one Darby Walsh, a brogue-maker?'
“'No, I don't.'
“'Then, mark this, sir,' says I; 'if ever you shake the fist of him, you'll have a rogue in your gripe.'
“'I knew one Jack Walsh,' says he, 'at Calcutta?'
“'And was your honour ever at Calcutta?' says I.