LIFE IN IRELAND 231 



— his punch, and yourself into the bargain. By Jasus, 

 I'll punch your eye out if ever you disturb me in 

 gentlemen's company again. By my soul, said the boy, 

 and it 's the first time I ever seed you in it, and likely 

 'twill be the last, for you can't behave yourself no more 

 than a drunken turf cutter. Be off, said Raffert}\ I 've 

 a pound note in my pocket, and I '11 pound your skull 

 to a consistency, like a turf bog. 



MooNEY had nearly given up the search in despair, 

 when looking into a hat on the table he saw his name, 

 which he knew from being in printing hand; but to the 

 Poet, who had in view Ovid's Meta7no7'pJioses, it gave a 

 practical illustration of the Roman text. 



The gold band was removed, and the gold rim dipt 

 fairly off all round, and a bit of black tape tied round it 

 for a show — nothing could exceed his rage — he attacked 

 the poor Poet, and a battle royal ensued; Mooney 

 came off victorious, and with a black eye and blemished 

 hat proceeded to his master's room. 



Brian and Captain Blake enjoyed the thing heartily, 

 and poor Mooney w^as ordered to return the remains of 

 his castor to the Bard, and buy himself another. 



Affairs were thus settled, when they were roused by a 

 universal shout of — war hawk, war hawk — which shook 

 the prison walls down. They ran, and the yard pre- 

 sented a perfect Irish scene. — An unhappy bailiff, who 

 had ventured in to serve a prisoner with a latitat, was 

 stripped naked, and under the pump ; it was in vain he 

 roared for help and mercy, neither would hear him ; 

 and after being beat black and blue, he was kicked into 

 the street. 



It was a miracle the wretch got off with his life, as 



