LIFE IN IRELAND 31 



that God did not d n him either for the love he 



bore his wife, or making use of His name to show it. 

 An Irishman can no more refrain from rapping out an 

 oath when he is delighted, than an Englishman can 

 help grumbling when he is well off. ' Curse your ugly 

 mug ! ' said Terence O'Flanagan to English Bob, whom 

 he met at the corner of Dirty Lane, ' but I 'm glad to 

 see you look so well : 'tis long since we met, and I 

 haven't a rap to jingle upon a tomb-stone ; sure we 



can't part without a drop, 'tis so d d unlucky.' 



Terry after a little consideration slapped his canister, 

 crying, ' I 've got it here ! wait a minute and I '11 be 

 wid you in a kick ! ' Bob had not long to stand before 

 Terry with joy beaming from under his ragged red pole, 

 returned and dragged him into a punch house ; here 

 over ' sweet pea,' they talked old adventures o'er and 

 o'er, till the two-and-nine penny piece was melted down 

 their throttles. ' I suppose, Terry, you went to raise 

 the wind when you left me standing sentry at the 

 corner?' 'You may say that with your ugly mouth, 

 for by Saint Patrick ! I pawn'd my breeches and shirt 

 to raise the drop.' It was an absolute fact ; he threw 

 back his reagan (great coat) and appeared a perfect 

 sans culotte. Bob was shocked at this naked proof of 

 real friendship, but Terence enjoyed it heartily, and at 

 parting said, ' Bad luck to the fellow that wouldn't part 

 with his hide if he could sarve an ould friend in need ; 

 my reagan 's a fine cross buttocker, nobody knows 

 what 's within ; three trips from the Coal Quay to the 

 Bloody Bridge and then I '11 be rigged again ; in the 

 mean time you go to hell till we meet again.' 



Some may think it strange that a man should strip 



