MEMORIES OF GLENAUGH. 89 



rect term or not. It was capital when served 

 on toast. 



I am now going to tell you how I saw the 

 devil at the Pill. It isn't often we see the devil 

 out of the opera, and when a sportsman falls 

 in with black game of so quaint a kind he is 

 bound to record it. I had been dining with a 

 friend in the neighbourhood, who had excel- 

 lent stories, capital whisky, or claret if you 

 preferred it, and a keen Irish sense of fun. 

 When we had disposed of the repast, to us 

 enters Tim Dennehy, ostler, greyhound trainer, 

 and handy man in general to the establish- 

 ment. 



Cold night, Tim." 



" Yis, Sir, could it is." (Tim looked at the 

 decanter. His master poured out a glass. Tim 

 took it in hand, and it seemed to disappear down 

 his sleeve, 1 think, so unconscious did his face 

 appear of having swalloived it.) 



" How's the tide, Tim ?" 



"An ould man, yer honour" (high-water, 

 on the point of going out). 



"Would the gentleman have a chance of 

 getting at the duck, do you think ?" 



