Bedad, 'twas meself was as plaised as could be
When they tould me the vote had bin given to me.
"St. Pathrick," ses Oi, "Oi'm a gintleman too,
An' Oi'll dine ivry day off a grand Oirish stew."
The words was scarce seen slippin' off of me tongue
When who but the Colonel comes walkin' along!
"Begorrah, 'tis callin' he's afther, the bhoy,
Oi'm a gintleman now wid a vingeance," ses Oi.
The Colonel come in wid an affable air,
An' he sat down quite natteral-loike in a chair.
"So, Rory," ses he, "'tis a vote ye've got now?"
"That's thrue though ye ses it," ses Oi, wid a bow.
"Deloighted!" ses he, "'tis meself that is glad,
For shure ye're desarvin' it, Rory, me lad.
An' how are ye goin' to use it?" ses he,
"Ye could scarcely do betther than give it to me."
Oi stared at the Colonel, amazed wid surprise.
"What! Give it away, sorr?--Me vote, sorr?" Oi cries
"D'ye think that Oi've waited ontil Oi am gray,
An' now Oi'm jist goin' to give it away?"
The Colonel he chuckled, an' "Rory," ses he.
But "No, sorr," Oi answers, "ye don't diddle me."
Thin he hum'd an' he haw'd, an' he started agin,
But he'd met wid his equal in Rory O'Flynn.
Thin the smoile died away, an' a frown come instead,
But for all that he tould me, Oi jist shook me head,
[Illustration: NOT QUITE THE SAME THING.--_Merciful Traveller._ "Your
little horse has been going well. When do you bait him?" _Pat._ "Ah,
shure, it's been a purty livel road, sor: but Oi'l have to bate him
goin' up Sloggin Derry Hill, sor!"]
An' he gnawed his moustache, an' he cursed an' he swore,
But the more that he argued, Oi shook it the more.
Thin he called me a dolt an' an ignorant fool,
An' he said that Oi ought to go back to the school,
An' he flew in a rage an' wint black in the face,
An' he flung in a hullaballoo from the place.
Bedad, Oi was startled. Him beggin' me vote,
An' he'd three of his own too!--The gradiness o't!
Ye could scarcely belave it onless it was thrue,
An' him sittin' oop for a gintleman too!
Was it betther he thought he could use it than Oi?
Begorrah, Oi'll show he's mistaken, me bhoy.
Oi'll hang it oop over me mantelpace shelf,
For now that Oi've got it, Oi'll kape it meself.
* * * * *
IRISH METEOROLOGY.--There surely must be some constant cause existing
whose agency maintains the chronic disaffection of Ireland. Perhaps it
is some disturbing element ever present in the atmosphere. That may
possibly be a predominance of O'Zone.
* * * * *
_Old Gentleman (who has not hurried over his Dinner, and has just
got his Bill.)_ "Waiter, what's this? I'm charged here twopence for
stationery. You know I've had none----"
_Irish Waiter._ "Faix! yer honour, I don't know. Y'ave been sittin'
here a long t-h-ime, anyhow!!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE CONSEQUENCE OF THE CHAIR.--_Chairman of the
Home-Rule Meeting._ "'The chair' will not dispute the point with
Misther O'Pummel----" _The O'Pummel._ "'The chair' had betther
not, onless he loikes to stip out, and take his coat off!!"
[_Confusion--exeunt fighting._
* * * * *
THE HEADLESS MAN AGAIN.--_Stock-jobber (to new Irish clerk, who is
working out the Bull and Bear list)._ "Hullo, why do you write "B"
against your results?"
_Clerk._ "Shure, sir, that's for "Bull," to distinguish them from
"Bear.""
* * * * *
VERY IRISH RENDERING OF AN OLD SONG.--"'Tis my _day_light on a shiny
night!"
* * * * *
A TASTE OF THE TIMES.--_Mr. Molony, Irish Farmer (to Mr. Flynn, the
Agent)._ "Sure, I've come to ask yer honner to say a word to the
masther for me, for the Black Boreen haulding."
_Agent._ "No, Molony, the masther won't take a tenant without capital."
_Mr. Molony._ "And is it capital? Sure, I've three hundred pounds in
the bank this minit!"
_Agent._ "Oh, I thought I saw your name to that petition for a
reduction of rents, as you were all starving!"
_Mr. Molony._ "Tare an' agers! Mr. Flynn, darlin'! Is the petition gone
to the masther yet? If your honner could just give me a hoult av it,
that I may sthrike my name out!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Tourist._ "Have you not got Scotch whiskey?"
_Waiter (in an Irish hotel)._ "No, sorr, we don't kape it. And them as
does only uses it to water down our own!"]
[Illustration: "AS CLEAR AS MUD."--_Irish Waiter._ "An' will yer 'anner
have an inside kyar or an outside kyar?" _Inexperienced Saxon._ "Oh,
an outside car, of course; I don't want a covered conveyance; I want
to see the country." _Irish Waiter._ "Oh, shure, nayther of 'em's
covered." (_Closing door and preparing for a luminous explanation._)
"It's this way, it is, sir. They call 'em inside kyars bekase the
wheels is outside, an' they call 'em outside kyars by rason the wheels
is inside!!"]
[Illustration: A GOOD LISTENER.--_Reverend Gentleman._ "Well, Tim, did
you leave the letter at the squire's?" _Tim._ "I did, your riv'rence. I
b'lieve they're having dinner company to-day----" _Reverend Gentleman_
(_angrily_). "What business had you to be listening about? How often
have I told you----" _Tim._ "Plaze your riv'rence, I only listened with
my nose!!"]
[Illustration: _O'Brien._ "Oh, murther aloive! Barney, come and help
me! Pat has fallen into the mortar, and he's up to the ankles!"
_McGeorge._ "Och, if he's only up to the ankles, he can walk out."
_O'Brien._ "Oh, bedad, but he's in head first!"]
[Illustration: _Irish Pat (to Bashful Bridget)._ "Look up, Bridget me
darlin'. Shure an' I'd cut me head off ony day in the week for a sight
of yer beautiful eyes!"]
[Illustration: TRUSTWORTHY AUTHORITY
_Host._ "Michael, didn't I tell you to decant the best claret?"
_Michael._ "You did, sorr." _Host._ "But this isn't the best."
_Michael._ "No, sorr; but it's the best you've got!"]
[Illustration: "THE HARP IN THE AIR"
_Irish Gentleman (who has vainly endeavoured to execute a jig to the
fitful music of the telegraph wires)._ "Shure! whoiver y'are ye can't
play a bit! How can a jintleman dance--(_hic!_)--iv ye don't kape
thime?"!!
* * * * *
The Cockney who said he valued Switzerland for its mountain hair has a
supporter in a writer in the _Irish Independent_, who remarks: "There
are many mountains in the country now bare and desolate, whose brows,
if whiskered with forests, would present a striking appearance."
* * * * *
GEOGRAPHICAL CATECHISM.--_Q._ What do we now call the Isle of Patmos?
_A._ Ireland.
* * * * *
REFRESHMENT FOR MAN AND BEAST.--_Traveller in Ireland (who has been
into a shebeen)._ "But are you not going to bait the horse?"
_Pat._ "Is it bate him? Sure, and didn't I bate him enough coming
along?"
* * * * *
_Irish Gent (paying debt of honour.)_ "There's the sovereign ye kindly
lint me, Brown. I'm sorry I haven't been able----"
Saxon (_pocketing the coin_). "Never thought of it from that day to----
By Jove! 'forgot all about it----"
_Irish Gent._ "Bedad! I wish ye'd tould me that before!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Surgeon (examining in the practical methods of reviving
the apparently drowned)._ "Now, how long would you persevere in those
motions of the arms?" _Bluejacket (from the Emerald Isle)._ "Until he
was dead, sir!"]
[Illustration: _Squire (rather perplexed)._ "Hullo, Pat! Where did you
get the hare?" _Pat._ "Shure, surr, the cr'atur' was wand'rin' about,
an' I thought I'd take't to the 'Wanes'!" _Squire._ "But did the keeper
see you?" _Pat._ "Bliss yer honour, I've been lookin' for him iver
since I caught it!!"]
[Illustration: WAITING FOR THE LANDLORD.--_Ribbonman (getting
impatient)._ "Bedad, they ought to be here by this toime! Sure,
Tirince, I hope the ould gintleman hasn't mit wid an accidint!!!"]