But what you most admire is the witty and ingenious way in which they turn a mistake. A young Irishman stepped up to a gentleman the other day, and with a musical brogue inquired:
“I’m thinkin’, sir, that you are Mr. Blake.”
“You’re thinkin’ wrong,” was the surly reply.
“I beg yer honor’s pardon; I sez to mysilf, when I seen you, sez I, that must be Mr. John Blake for whom I have a missage; but if it’s not, sez I to mysilf, it’s a moighty fine upsthanding young gintleman, whoiver he may be.”
Sometimes there is a tinge of sarcasm, as when an old hag asked: “Won’t yer lordship buy an old woman’s prayers for a penny; that’s chape.”
“The hivins be your bed, me darlin’,” was the way an old beggar woman expressed her thanks.
Sir Walter Scott says: “I gave a fellow a shilling on one occasion when a sixpence was the proper fee.
“‘Remember you owe me a sixpence, Pat,’ I said.
“‘May yer honor live till I pay ye!’”
When he was leaving the ruins of the Seven Churches at Glendalough, Lord Plunkett, his escort, whispered to the custodian: