Howsumdever, detarmined the chaps should pursaive
What I thought of their doin's, before I tuk lave,
"In regard of all that," says I--there I stopt short--
Not a word more would come, tho' I shtruggled hard for't.
So, shnapping my fingers at what's called the Chair,
And the owld Lord (or Lady, I believe) that sat there--
"In regard of all that," says I bowldly again--
"To owld Nick I pitch Mortimer--_and_ Docthor Den";--
Upon which the whole company cried out "Amen";
And myself was in hopes 'twas to what _I_ had said,
But, by gor, no such thing--they were not so well bred:
For, 'twas all to a prayer Murthagh just had read out,
By way of fit finish to job so devout:
That is--_afther_ well damning one half the community,
To pray God to keep all in pace an' in unity!
This is all I can shtuff in this letter, tho' plinty
Of news, faith, I've got to fill more--if 'twas twinty.
But I'll add, on the _outside_, a line, should I need it,
(Writin' "Private" upon it, that no one may read it,)
To tell you how _Mortimer_ (as the Saints chrishten him)
Bears the big shame of his sarvant's dismisshin' him.
(_Private outside_.)
Just come from his riv'rence--the job is all done--
By the powers, I've discharged him as sure as a gun!
And now, Judy dear, what on earth I'm to do
With myself and my appetite--both good as new--
Without even a single traneen in my pocket,
Let alone a good, dacent pound--starlin', to stock it--
Is a mysht'ry I lave to the One that's above,
Who takes care of us, dissolute sawls, when hard dhrove!
[1] "I am of your Patriarchs, I, a branch of one of your antediluvian
families--fellows that the Flood could not wash away.
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