6o LIFE IN IRELAND 



think ? It wasn't for you, nor me, for the Viceroy or 

 Kilmainham gaoler, or Major Sirr, or the finisher of 

 the law in Green Street, or any other great man in 

 Dublin ; but it was for the King ! Aye, blood and 

 turf! for the King himself! the King of Ireland! 

 ' Long looked for come at last ! ' bellowed Captain 

 Grammachree, as he rushed into Sir Shawn O'Dog- 

 herty's bedroom, and continued dancing up and 

 down like the fellow in London Streets, who walks a 

 hornpipe in a wooden platter upon his timber toe. 

 'What is the meaning of this intrusion so early?' 

 exclaimed Sir Shawn, as he rubbed his eyes and 

 scratched his nightcap. 



' Paddy, now the King 's come ! 

 Paddy, now the King 's come ! 

 Every one shall dance and sing, 

 Paddy, now the King's come ! ' 



This was the only intelligible answer to be extracted 

 from Grammachree for some minutes, when he pro- 

 ceeded to state that the royal yachts were in the Bay 

 of Dublin, and every preparation made for the King 

 to land at Dunleary. ' By the holy poker, which never 

 stirred an infidel fire ! ' said the Captain, ' 'tis true. I 

 boarded Major Sirr about an hour ago, going on horse- 

 back in a curricle and pair to clear the way, and make 

 a fair road upon the zvater for His Majesty's landing. 

 All Dublin has gone off to the Black Rock, and there 

 is not a living soul in the town but a parcel of dead 

 pigs run over by the jingles and jaunting cars thunder- 

 ing down Bagot Street. Every thing that will swim 

 has left the Liffey bang-up full of company to see the 



