196 LIFE IN IRELAND 



When the hour of nine hath stricken, 



Up the nine stairs slow we crawl ; 

 Crowds of Pads the alleys thicken, 



That convey them to straw hall. 



All are lock'd in SNUG and quiet, 



Safely snores each jolly soul ; 

 Welcome brother — 'tis our fiat — 



You shall pay another bowl. 



This dittv had scarce been concluded, and a fresh 

 row of candles put into the hoop, that hung, by way 

 of chandelier, over the table, and in the centre of the 

 room, when the door opened by Crofton, introduced 

 Sir Shawn O'Dogherty and Captain Grammachree, 

 who very sincerely shook Brian by both hands ; they 

 did not put on long Limerick faces, they were none of 

 Job's comforters ; they had long expected this event, 

 and were determined to make it turn to the advantage 

 of Brian Boru ; they had watched all his motions, 

 and honest Patrick Mooney announced to them that 

 his master was in the Clink. — Brian looked very sad, 

 and self disapprobation rose into his cheeks at sight of 

 those real friends he had so long and so shamefully 

 neglected. 



For a few moments he could not utter a single 

 sentence ; at length he said — ' By God, you are too 

 kind to come near me, 1 'm unworthy of your friend- 

 ship.' — 'That be damned,' bawled Grammachree, 'you 

 are my auld hearty Brian still, and shall be, whether 

 we're out campaigjii^ig^ or shut up in barracks — all's 

 one for that. Crofton, tip us a jug of the best within 

 the walls, and tip us a stool to sit upon ; for, by Jasus, 

 I shall wear out my leg by standing upon it.' 



