LIFE IN IRELAND 309 



Now, by my credit, says Gram, as you have it in the 

 song,— 



' I must see, for you see I can't stand ' ; 



and here 's my President's hammer, to knock any one 

 of you down for a song or a toast, or a good story, 

 whenever I choose. 



Ring the bell, you Tim Shagpole, and be d d to 



you. 'Tis done. Major. Oh, Jerry, is it you ? Be 

 after taking these materials, said the Major, unbuckling 

 his straps ; be after taking these materials to Stone, 

 the timber inerchaut^ in Dame-street, and tell him to 

 send me, in a pig's whisper, an ebony stumps of the 

 same make, but better stuff, and tell him to put it 

 down to me cheap, for I am a good customer, for every 

 time I get malty, I have a new leg to buy; and by the 

 powers of a militia colonel, it was one of the luckiest 

 things ever happened to me, having my leg shot off; 

 for what an expense in doctor's stuff would it have 

 been, if I had broken a leg of fleshy bloody and bofie^ 

 every time I had the whiskey fever. 



Away wid you, you green-eyed spalpeen ; pull foot, 

 and make no delay, except you call at Mother Norman's, 

 at the corner of the bridge, and tell her to give you 

 half a pint of the best, and chalk it up to me behind 

 the window shutter. 



Away went the waiter ; and the Major, now in a 

 talkative mood, continued — I always rendezvous at 

 Mother Norman's ; her husband is an iimbrella maker ; 

 and she has a snug little parlour within the bar, made 

 by three tilbury umbrellas, that just come 'head high,' 



