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he quitted his native country; but I am happy to assure you that he looked very well when I took my leave of him a short time back.'

“Paddy. Well, the Lord be praised! I'll be bound he was axing you about the beautiful crap of praties he sowed in the field by the brook afore he wint away, sir ?'

“ Mr. Beamish. “No, I rather think he did not mention that cir. cumstance. It was as my physician he attended me.'

“Paddy. “Oh, I daar say, sir. Tom's a clever chap, a great phy. sicianer. He'd pick up anything, sir, from tare and trett to trigonometry ; and as for Latin and Greek, he'd bother the bishop at them before he was bigger than a huxter's pint. Betty, darling, dust the ould chair there for the jintleman. Oh, she 'll never

Sit down, sir, if you playse. And so Tom is grown clever and lusty ?'

“Mr. Beamish. Why, he really looks the picture of rude health.'

“ Paddy. • Rude !-rude, did you say, sir ? He was rared clane and daycent, and

“Mr. Beamish. “Oh, really, Mr. Flynn, you mistake my meaning. I merely wished to say that he was in excellent health.'

“ Paddy. “Ay, ay, it's quite sartin that he'll fall into flesh; he takes asther his mother, sir. (Aside.) Arrah blur-an-ouns, Betty, come out of that glory-hole: your ould face is clane enough. One would think that you'd never have done scrubbing it. (To Mr. Beamish.) Sit down, sir, sit down, if you playse.'

“Mr. Beamish. · Excuse me; I had rather not at present ; for I have some calls to make, and my time is somewhat limited. I shall be delighted to tell you some pleasing news about your son,

if you

will do me the favor of dining with me to-day.

“Paddy. "Oh, Mr. Baymish, is it in airnest you are, or making fun of me?'

“ MR. BEAMISH. "By no means, my dear sır; I shall be delighted if you dine with me, and I shall have the pleasure of introducing you to Mrs. Beamish.'

“Paddy. •In troth, sir, to be plain wid you, I'd rather dine at home.'

MR. BEAMISH. "Oh, come, come, Mr. Flynn, you must make yourself at home with me. Upon my honour you shall-indeed you must dine with me to-day.'

“Paddy. “And what time do you dine, sir ? “Mr BEAMISH. • At six o'clock.'

“ PADDY. “Oh, murder! I'd never be able to howld out till six. I couldn't

go, sir. I never get my dinner later than two o'clock. Sure, sir, a man ought to have a couple of tumblers of punch and his tay under his waistcoat at six. Does Tom keep such bad hours ?though I daar say he does. When he was at home he was just as outlandish; for he wouldn't be done his breakfast till he'd be near going to bed, though he used to begin it when he'd get up, and he made but the one male in the day, but it lasted from morning till night.'

* MR. BEAMISH. “But about dinner to-day, Mr. Flynn? I really will take no excuse. You must dine with us at six.'

“Paddy. •Arrah, Bettty, jewel, d’ye hear all this?

“ Betty. You can't refuse the jintleman's politeness, Pat (aside in a whisper); go, Paddy, mavourneen; it may sarve Tom.'

“ Paddy. •Faith, and may be so. Well, sir, as you won't be put off, I'll go dine with you at six.'

“ MR. BEAMISH. Agreed, then, Mr. Flynn. At six, remember, we shall expect you.

Good bye! * And here Mr. Beamish made his bow and withdrew. As the subsequent part, however, of my narration cannot be well given in the third person, I must leave it to Mr. Flynn himself to describe the memorable events of the evening. His own account of the dining-out part of the affair was after the following fashion.

• • Whin Misthur Baymish left the shop, by gor, I wint and brushed up my duds, and polished my pumps, and brightened my buckles, and thin, when at last I put them on, didn't I look clane and dacent. “You're looking young again, Paddy dear,' says Betty, wid a tear in her eye as big as a gooseberry.

But when two o'clock came, I felt something inside of me crying, 'cupboard.' At three, I felt morthal hungry. At four, I couldn't stand it out much longer; but at five, I thought the bowels would fall out of me. Howsomdever, says I to myself, • Paddy Flynn, avich, you must bear it all, for the sake of your son Tom and his mother;' so I passed over the mighty inconvaynience as well as I could, although I thought it was a week long, tiil Betty told me that it was a quarter to six. Thin I jumped up off the chest, and says I to myself

, • Paddy Flynn, it's time for you to be off, for you have a good mile of ground to walk to the Parade. Well, then, I took my cane in my fist, and rowled up my bran new pair of gloves in the other for fear of dirtying them, and I sauntered along quite leisurely, that I mightn't get into a sweat, until I came to the Parade. Now, Paddy,' says I, 'you're just going for to make your first step into high life; the Lord send you safe over the trouble,' says I, looking about for Mr. Baymish's doore. I had the number of the house reckoned on my fingers, so I couldn't be mistaken. At last I made it out, and the divil a finer house I ever laid my two morthal eyes upon than that same, wid its beautiful clane steps, that you could take your tay off, and its iligant hall-doore, big enough for an archbishop, and the full of your fist of a brass rapper upon it, not to say nothing at all of a purty litt:e plate that was on it, with a beautiful printed B, and an E, and an a, agus an M,' says I, • and that makes Beam, all the world over ; and thin an I, and an s, agus an H-right,' says I, agus a Beam, agus an ish,—BEAMISH, to be sure.' Whack wint the rapper in a minute, wid a single pelt that would astonish a twintypenny nail, if it only got it fair on the head. The door flew open before you could bless yourself. •D'ye mayne to knock down the house, Misther Impudence ? said a mighty fine-looking gintleman, wid a green coat and red breeches, popping out his powdered pate, and putting his fat chops close up to my face. “No, sir, I don't,' says Î, quite politely. I wouldn't hurt a hair of its head, honey, nor a dog belonging to it.'—*Thin what do you want ? says he to myself, quite snappishly intirely. “I want Mr. Baymish,' says I, just as indepindantly. You can't see him,' says Saucepan, slapping the doore in my face. • Blur an' turf !' says I, and may

Isn't this purty tratement I'm suffering for you, Tom, avich ? Well, I scratched my head, and waited a bit, and rapped again for Tom's sake. The same nice man opened it in a giffey. • You're a smart chap, I don't think,' says I, winking at him good-humour'dly; and

be so.

in spite of his angry looks, I made bowld just to step past him into the hall. I believe this is the house,' says I, “and this is the right side of the doore.' - D’ye think so ?'

says

he. • You'd betther get out again, thin, as quick as you came in,' says he-Not immaydiately,' says I; and thin I ris my voice like a counsellor's, and says I, • I’m come to dine wid Mr. and Mrs. Baymish at six, and, beg. ging your pardon, sir, I think this is a mighty quare welcome.' What's your name ? says he.—Pat Flynn,' says 1.—Beg your pardon, sir,' says he.—No offince,' says I, as I thought he looked frightened.—Walk this way,' says he, bowing and scraping towards the stairs like a Frenchman at a fiddle. • Will you show me your hat, sir ?' says he. And welcome, sir,' says I: 'it was made by my own cousin jarmin, Pat Beaghan, of Patrick Street, and cost but twelve and sixpence; rale bayver, your sowl, and as honest a man as ever you dealt with—indeed he is a mighty dacent man.'Oh, sir, I beg your honour's pardon,' says he, tittering wid the laughing ; ‘you mistake me, sir, intirely,' says he: “playse to give me your hat.'- For what? Would you have me go home in the night air to Betty without a hat ? says 1.—Oh, no, sir, you don't understand me,' says he; “I merely want to put by your hat for you till you are going home.'— The divil trust your rogue's face ! says I, . how mighty polite you are. Can't I take care of it myself ?

Oh, sir,' says he, thrusting his hand out for it, “every gintleman that dines here layves his hat wid me.'—*Thin if I must, I must,' says I; .there it's for you and my blessing wid it; but by the holy poker, if you don't put it by in a clane place, I 'll give you the lingth and breadth of this,' says I, shaking my cane, which was whipt out of my hand by another powdered gintleman; and before I could say trapstick, it was in safe keeping. Take care of it for you, sir,' says he, grinning at me. • Thank'ee, sir,' says I, grinning back at him. • Your gloves, sir,' says the black foot-boy. • Oh Lord !'

says
I, . has

your
mother
many more of

you,

Snowball ?. Can't I put my owo gloves in my own pocket, you baste ? says

1.-Oh no, sir,'

says
the

naygur, dat's not de way in dis house, massa.' Well, I gave him my gloves, and the first chap,-he that opened the doore and looked like a drum-major, beckoned me after him up the stairs, wid a shamrogue carpet on them as green as nature's own petticoat of a May-day morning, and as soft as the daisies, and so delicate and iligant that you wouldn't hear a robin's foot if he hopped on it, much less the sound of your own. Up thin I climbed for high life and for Tom's sake, and whin I got to the top step, I pulled up the waist-band of my breeches to give myself ayse, for I was desperately out of breath. The dirty blackguard in the red breeches afore me never minded me at all, but flung open a shining mahogany doore, and shouted out as loud as a tinker at a fair, · Mr. Flynn!' says he.—Here I am, sir,' says I, quite angry; "and what the divil do you want wid me in such a hurry? But he never minded me a pin's point, only stepped into the room another step or two, and roared out as if there was an evil sperrit in his sto. mach, · Mr. Flynn !'Och, then, sweet bad luck to your assurar

rance, says I ; 'is it for this that yes made me lave my cane below stairs, for fear I'd make you know your distance, you set of spalpeens ?' says I, looking about me to try was there any more of them at my heels. But the fellow was only laughing at me in his cheek, when out

walked Mr. Baymish himself. Mr. Flynn, you're welcome, sir,' says he.—Thank'ee, sir,' says I.-I hope there's nothing the matter with you, sir? says he. Nothing particular, sir,' says I, • barring the liberty that gintleman in the red breeches is taking wid my name.'— Pooh, pooh, Mr. Flynn,' says he, we must only laugh at those trifles,' says he, taking me under the arm and gintly shoving me in before a whole lot of beautiful ladies, who sad tittering and laughing, and stuffing their little muslin aprons and redicules into their mouths the moment they put their eyes upon poor Paddy Flynn.

• Your sar. vint, ginteels,' says I, in rale quality form, bowing down to the ground. My dear,' says Mr. Baymish to the misthress, who stood up, God bless her purty face! to meet us, “this is Mr. Thomas Flynn's worthy father, and my very particular friend; allow me to introduce him to you, and to all of you, ladies and gentlemen,' says he, taking me by the hand, and bowing with me. Well, d'ye see, they all rose like a congregation to get the priest's blessing after mass, and kept bowing at me till they nearly bothered me. So says I in return, 'God save all here, barring the cat,' not forgetting my manners. But the quality said nothing but nodded at me, which I thought was anything but ginteel or daycent. Well,' says I to myself, the poor crathers may be rich and proud, but good manners is another thing ; and I don't think they are so much to be blamed, see. ing that they never took lessons from Pat Flynn, tacher of dancing, good manners, and all other kinds of music.'

* * Mr. Beamish at last made me sit down, and I thin began to admire at the beautiful picthurs, and the mighty big looking glasses, and the varnished tables, that you could see your phiz-mahogany in, and the foreign tay-pots full of flowers, and the carpets that you'd sink up to your hamstrings in, and oh, the darlings--the ladies! But the sorra sign of dinner myself saw, although I thought all as one as if the Frinch and English were fighting in my bowels, wid the downright famishing hunger. "Oh, Tom, Tom, avich ma chree,' says I, giving them a squeeze for every twist they gave myself, isn't this cruel tratement intirely, I'm suffering for your sake? But there was no use in complaining, so I turned up my phiz-mahogany to look at the beautiful window-curtains, and there were two beautiful goolden sarpints over them peeping out at us, and ready to pounce down on us, when all of a sudden in pops my gintleman in the red breeches, and roars out, to my great joy, Din. ner's on the table.' Thin it was that they took a start out of Paddy Flynn, for on looking about, the divil a sign of a wall was there but what was whipt away by enchantment, and there stood the dinner on a bran new table-cloth, as white and as beautiful as a corpse at a wake. All the ladies and gintlemen stood up, and of course so did myself. • Mr. Flynn,' says Mr. Beamish.—Sir ? says I. -Will you take Mrs. Beamish’s hand ? says he.- For whát, sir ?' says I ; . what call have I to Mrs. Beamish's hand ? It's yourself that's her husband has the best right to it, sir,' says I.—Oh do, Mr. Flynn; be good enough to take Mrs. Beamish's hand; we are only going to dinner, and it is merely to lead her to her chair,' says he.* Indeed, faith, sir,' says I, if it wasn't to oblige your honour, it would be contrary to my religion to do the likes wid any man's wife, while Betty's alive and kicking.'—But they all fell a-laughing at me, while I took Mrs. Beamish's hand an'led her to her sate. When

everybody had taken their places, Mr. Beamish said to me, Mr. Flynn, will you sit next me ? says he.—Thankee, sur,' says I, quite glad to be axed; for I was afeard of my life to sit among the young divils in the petticoats, that were all tittering and bursting their sides at me. Let me give you some soup,' says he.— Broth, if you plase,' says I, winking at him.-Well, no matter, Mr. Flynn,' says he, smiling at myself, and he helped me to two big spoonfuls of the turreen that was afore him. The first sup I tuck scalded my mouth, until I thought my two eyes would leap out of my head; so I blew into the remainder, and thin made it lave that. Whin Mr. Beamish saw that my hollow plate was empty, •Mrs. Beamish is looking at you, Mr. Flynn,' says he.— For what, sir ?' says I.—She's looking at you,' says he, laying his hand on a decanter.—She's welcome, sir," says I; .but, blur an' ouns, I hope I'm all right, looking at myself all over to see if my buttons were fast.—Oh, she only wants you to pledge her. Tim,' says he, help the wine.'—*Thank you and her a thousand times, sir,' says I; but the stingy fellow in the red breeches only helped us each to a thimble-full.— Blur and ouns,' says I to myself, * the masther, I suppose, orders her to be helped, as he likes her.' So I was determined to watch my oppor. tunity; and when I thought no one was looking, I nodded to the misthress, and pointed to a decanter that stood near her, and lifted my glass at the same time, which she understood, for the women al. ways understand you, and she smiled and nodded to me in return. But she was so much afeard of him, that the divil a toothful she put into it, in spite of all my nods and winks, and shrugging my showl. ders, and pointing to my full glass, that I could throw at her. • Tundher and turt,' says I to myself, "hasn't he her under great controwl ? and I thought of somebody who used to clap her wings and crow at home.- What fish do you choose, Mr. Flynn ?” says his honour.— I never take none but on Fridays, and then bekaise I can't help it, sir,' says I.-_ You'll find that turbot delicious, sir,' says Mrs. Beamish.— I prefer mate, ma'am,' says I.-Well, look round the table, Mr. Flynn, and say what you will have,' says Mr. Beam. ish.—Some of that pork, sir, fornent that gintleman in the specs,' says 1.- It's ham, sir,' says ould Goggles, quite snappish. Ham's pork, Mr. Fore-sight,' says I; and the whole company roared out laughing; and, as I didn't like them to have all the laugh to themselves, I laughed louder and longer than any of them. • You’re quite right,' says he, making the best of what he didn't bargain for, and sending me a plate full well bowlstered on cabbage ; and, faith, I stuck into it like a hungry hawk.-Mr. Fynn,' says his honour. Sir,' says I, laying down my knife and fork quite gin

teelly on my plate, and looking him full in the face. “I hope you are and to your liking,' says he. Mighty well, I thank you ;'... help

wil a plate I had, for the thief in the red breeches had but the air while I was talking to his masther. • Oh, murther, whipt it away

myself, “isn't this purty thratement I am suffering, murther,"

says

I to m, avick!' But before I could say another and all for your sake, Tom fellow popped down aforeme word, the ugly black-faceu I could do no better, I began dish of chopped nettles ; so secing

6

1

a

Whipt it again from afore bowlting them, when he runs back ana

• Oh, Tom, me, and said, • The missus wants some spinich,

hey gave me somen Tom,' says I again, isn't this too bad ? Well, w

says he.

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