POTEEN THE REAL MOUNTAIN DEW. 259 



stills have been so hunted down that it is next to 

 impossible to get a dhrap of the real crather nowa- 

 days ; and the palers and the gaugers keep such 

 a bright look-out that any puff of smoke coming 

 from any quarter but a well-known chimney causes 

 suspicion at once. 



In the days long ago, when I used to frequent 

 the Land of Praties, and, with my fishing-rod on 

 my shoulder, poke my nose into various out-of-the- 

 way places, there was poteen to be had ; and a 

 mighty pleasant thrink it was, provided that it was 

 not too new. Parliament whiskey was hot, smoky 

 stuff, and set your inner man on fire unless taken 

 with the materials. On the other hand, poteen was 

 soft and mellow, and had a pleasant taste of the 

 barley of which it was made ; and as it went 

 down it promoted a most gratifying, comfortable 

 feeling, such as the Clown in a pantomime doubtless 

 has when, after drawing his tongue down the piece 

 of bacon he has stolen from the grocer's shop-door, 

 he expresses his delight and the satisfaction it affords 

 him by rubbing down the stomach of his friend 

 Pantaloon. 



Difficult as poteen was to be obtained even in those 

 days, still, in spite of gaugers, palers, and various 



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