Simpson's snipe 57 



" We've twenty minutes to meet the train, Billy," 

 I observed, giving the reins a jerk. 



" Is it for to ketch the tin-o'clock thrain from 

 Dublin ? " he asked. 



" Yes." 



" Begorra, ye've an hour ! She's like yourself — 

 she's always late." 



** There's a gentleman coming down to spend the 

 day and shoot," I said, without noticing Billy's 

 sarcasm. 



" Shoot ! Arrah, shoot what ? " 



" Why, snipe, plover — anything that may turn 



up-" 



" Be jabers, he'll have for to poach, thin." 



" What do you mean, Billy ? " 



" Divvle resave the feather there is betune 

 this an' Ballybann ; they're dhruv out av the 

 cunthry." 



" Nonsense, man. We'll get a snipe in Booker's 

 fields." 



" Ye will, av ye sind to Dublin for it." 



I felt rather down in the mouth, for I had dur- 

 ing the season given unlimited permission to my 

 surrounding neighbours to blaze away — a privilege 

 which had been used, if not abused, to the utmost 

 limits. Scarce a day passed that we were not 

 under fire, and on several occasions were in a state 



