MEMORIES OF THE COUNTRY PEOPLE 93 



We were all coming up from Cork races one day 

 when a very large farmer, good-temperedly drunk 

 got into the carriage. Except to produce a bottle 

 of neat whisky from which he drank, he was quite 

 inoffensive, but one of the ladies in the carriage 

 was afraid, and deputed her male companion 

 whose weight was about ten stone, to order the 

 man to leave at Blarney. 



" Leave is it. I will go on to Mallow where FU 

 be changin'." A peppering of abuse fell on un- 

 moved shoulders. Threats were resorted to vainly. 



" Twill cheer ye. Have a dhrop," remarked 

 the giant blandly proffering the black bottle. 

 " Jameson's best, or if the lady '11 take a dhrain 

 . . . an' welcome." 



A second man now joined the first, they slowed 

 down, and the big man was ordered to go at once 

 or he'd be put out. 



A twinkle rose in the good-humoured eyes. 

 Possibly he might have gone for persuasion. 



" Put me out," he said softly, leaning back, 

 " an' welcome, //y^ can." 



He was at least seventeen stone, and he simply 

 lolled back master of the situation, they could not 

 stir him. There he remained until Mallow, kindly 

 offering drinks to everyone, saying it would 

 strengthen them, when he went like a lamb for 

 the first porter who spoke to him. 



" The ginthry is sorrowful wakely," was his 

 mild parting shot as he lurched off. " An' any- 



