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was roarin' like mad for the drooth, and his mouth like a coal of fire. And sure, sir, as the story goes, they couldn't find any wather in the ditch!

"Millia murther! millia murther!' cries the king. 'Will no one take pity an a king that's dyin' for the bare drooth?'

"And they thrimbled again with the fair fright, when they heerd this, and thought of the ould bishop's prophecy.

"Well,' says the poor king, 'run down to the Shannon,' says he, and sure, at all events, you'll get wather there, says he.

"Well, sir, away they run with pails and noggins, down to the Shannon, and-God betune us and harm!-what would you think, sir, but the river Shannon was dhry! So, av coorse, when the king heerd the Shannon was gone dhry, it wint to his heart; and he thought o' the bishop's curse an him, and, givin' one murtherin' big screech, that split the walls of the palace, as may be seen to this day, he died, sir -makin' the bishop's words good, that he would die of drooth yet!'

"And now, sir," says my historian, with a look of lurking humour in his dark gray eye, “isn't that mighty wonderfuliv it's thrue?"—" Legends and Stories of Ireland."

The Blarney

Oн, did you ne'er hear of the Blarney
That's found near the banks of Killarney?

Believe it from me,

No girl's heart is free,

Once she hears the sweet sound of the Blarney.

For the Blarney's so great a deceiver

That a girl thinks you're there, though you leave her, And never finds out

All the tricks you're about

Till she's quite gone herself, with your Blarney.

Oh, say, would you find this same Blarney?
There's a castle not far from Killarney;
On the top of its wall

(But take care you don't fall)

There's a stone that contains all this Blarney

Like a magnet, its influence such is,

That attraction it gives all it touches.

If you kiss it, they say,

From that blessed day

You may kiss whom you please with your Blarney.

Lanty Leary

LANTY was in love, you see,

With lovely, lively Rosie Carey; But her father can't agree

To give the girl to Lanty Leary. Up to fun, "Away we'll run,"

Says she; "my father's so conthrairy. Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?" "Faith, I will!" says Lanty Leary.

But her father died one day

(I hear 'twas not by dhrinkin' wather);

House and land and cash, they say,

He left by will to Rose his daughter;
House and land and cash to seize,

Away she cut so light and airy.

"Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?"
"Faith, I will!" says Lanty Leary.

Rose, herself, was taken bad,

The fayver worse each day was growin'; "Lanty, dear," says she, "'tis sad,

To th' other world I'm surely goin'.

You can't survive my loss, I know,

Nor long remain in Tipperary.

Won't you follow me? Won't you follow me?"
"Faith, I won't!" says Lanty Leary.

Andy as Waiter at Table and Messenger to the Post-Office

THE first time Andy was admitted into the mysteries of the dining-room, great was his wonder. The butler took him in to give him some previous instructions, and Andy was so lost in admiration at the sight of the assembled glass and plate, that he stood with his mouth and eyes wide open, and scarcely heard a word that was said to him. After the head man had been dinning his instructions into him for some time, he said he might go until his attendance was required. But Andy moved not; he stood with his eyes fixed by a sort of fascination on some object that seemed to rivet them

with the same unaccountable influence that the snake exercises over its victim.

"What are you looking at?" said the butler.

"Them things, sir," said Andy, pointing to some silver forks.

"Is it the forks?" said the butler.

Oh, no, sir! I know what forks is very well; but I never seen them things afore."

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What things do you mean?"

"These things, sir," said Andy, taking up one of the silver forks, and turning it round and round in his hand in utter astonishment, while the butler grinned at his ignorance, and enjoyed his own superior knowledge.

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"Well!" said Andy after a long pause, the divil be from me if ever I seen a silver spoon split that way before."

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The butler laughed a horse-laugh, and made a standing joke of Andy's split spoon. But time and experience made Andy less impressed with wonder at the show of plate and glass, and the split spoons became familiar as household words" to him; yet still there were things in the duties of table attendance beyond Andy's comprehension; he used to hand cold plates for fish, and hot plates for jelly, etc. But " one day," as Zanga says-" one day" he was thrown off his centre in a remarkable degree by a bottle of soda

water.

It was when that combustible was first introduced into Ireland as a dinner beverage, that the occurrence took place, and Andy had the luck to be the person to whom a gentleman applied for some soda-water.

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Sir?" said Andy.

Soda-water," said the guest, in that subdued tone in which people are apt to name their wants at a dinner-table.

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Andy went to the butler. "Mr. Morgan, there's a gintle

man—”

"Let me alone, will you?" said Mr. Morgan.

Andy manœuvred round him a little longer, and again essayed to be heard.

"Mr. Morgan!"

"Don't you see I'm as busy as I can be! Can't you do it yourself?"

"I dunna what he wants."

"Well, go and ax him," said Mr. Morgan.

Andy went off as he was bidden, and came behind the thirsty gentleman's chair, with "I beg your pardon, sir." "Well!" said the gentleman.

"I beg your pardon, sir; but what's this you ax'd me for?" 66 Soda-water."

"What, sir?"

Soda-water. But perhaps you have not any."

Oh, there's plenty in the house, sir! Would you like it hot, sir?"

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The gentleman laughed, and, supposing the new fashion was not understood in the present company, said, "Never mind."

But Andy was too anxious to please, to be so satisfied, and again applied to Mr. Morgan.

"Sir!"

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'Bad luck to you! Can't you let me alone?"
"There's a gintleman wants some soap and wather."
"Some what?"

"Soap and wather, sir."

"Divil sweep you! Soda-wather, you mane.

it under the sideboard."

"Is it in the can, sir?"

You'll get

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