TWO Irish soldiers being stationed in a borough in the west of England,
got into a conversation respecting their quarters. "How," said the one,
"are you quartered?" "Pretty well." "What part of the house do you sleep
in?" "Upstairs." "In the garret, perhaps?" "The garret! no, Dennis
O'Brien would never sleep in the garret." "Where then?" "Why, I know not
what you call it; but if the house were turned topsy turvy, I should be
in the cellar."