'Tisn't all as one, then, as that thistle-browsing
quadruped. Barney Heffeman, who presumes, in imitation of his betters,
to write Philomath after his name, and whose whole extent of literary
reputation is not more than two or three beggarly townlands, whom, by
the way, he is inoculating successfully wid his own ripe and flourishing
ignorance. No, sir; nor like Gusty Gibberish, or (as he has been most
facetiously christened by his Reverence, Father O'Flaherty) Demosthenes
M'Gosther, inasmuch as he is distinguished for an aisy and prodigal
superfluity of mere words, unsustained by intelligibility or meaning,
but who cannot claim in his own person a mile and a half of dacent
reputation. However, _quid multis_ Mr. Hyacinthus; 'tis no indoctrinated
or obscure scribe who now addresses you, and who does so from causes
that may be salutary to your own health and very gentlemanly fame,
according as you resave the same, not pretermitting interests involving,
probably, on your part, an abundant portion of pecuniarity.
"In short, then, it has reached these ears, Mr. Hyacinthus, and between
you and me, they are not such a pair as, in consequence of their
longitudinity, can be copiously shaken, or which rise and fall according
to the will of the wearer; like those of the thistle-browser already
alluded to; it has reached them that you are about to substantiate a
a disreputable--excuse the phrase--co-partnership wid four of the most
ornamental villains on Hibernian earth, by which you must understand me
to mane that the villains aforesaid are not merely accomplished in all
the plain principles and practices of villainy, but finished off even
to its natest and most inganious decorations.
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