162 A MEDLEY OF SPORT 



Micky, to go an' get dhrunk on ; and God forgive me for 

 mentionin' it, but it's the only way to get a minit's pace 

 from their wicked, labellin' tongues. Be off home to 

 your mothers, ye pack iv rebelly scoundhrels, an' tell 

 them, wid Denis 0' Grady's compliments, that ye're a 

 disgrace to their up-bringin'." 



" Not till we've seen ye tap the keg iv stout Tom 

 Daly give ye for the fine dive ye made from ould Kitty's 

 back to sarch for eels in the brook." 



Denis opened on the enemy with a volley of strange 

 Gaelic oaths, and then made a sudden onslaught with 

 the poker, causing them to beat a hasty retreat from 

 the taproom. He then returned to the fire, and was 

 continuing the graphic account of his exploits, and 

 explaining how, when he was leading by a good quarter 

 of a mile, and was just charging the brook at something 

 over a thousand miles an hour, some murtherin' gallows- 

 bird jumped out from behind a bush with a terrific 

 whoop, causing his mount to stop dead just as she was 

 taking off : the shock bursting the girths, with the result 

 that he was precipitated into the water still astride of 

 the saddle, and so lost the race. " An' sure, Micky," 

 said he, almost tearfully, " 'twas a clane walk over till 

 that divil's imp thripped me up." 



The Squire and his cousin at that moment happened 

 to call at the inn, and during the course of conversation 

 with the landlord, learnt that Denis was giving a lecture 

 to the village cobbler, illustrated by diagrams on the 

 hearth. They therefore made their way to the tap- 



