"Well, Ned," said his
father, "didn't we spend a pleasant evenin' in Gerald Cavanagh's last
night? Isn't Kathleen a darlin'?"
"She is a delightful girl," replied Edward, "it can't be denied; indeed,
I don't think I ever saw so beautiful a girl, and as for her figure, it
is perfect--perfect."
"Ay," said the father, "and it's she that knows the difference between a
decent sensible boy and a--gintleman--a highflyer. She was both kind and
civil to you, Ned."
"I don't know as to the kindness," replied Edward; "but she was
certainly civil and agreeable, and I don't think it's in her nature to
be anything else."
"Except when she ought," said his father; "but listen, Ned--dress
yourself up, get a buff waistcoat, a green jockey coat, a riding whip,
and a pair o' shinin' top-boots, titivate yourself up like a dandy, then
go to her wid lavendher water on your pocket-handkerchy, an' you'll see
how she'll settle you. Be my sowl, you'll be the happy boy when you get
her; don't you think so, Misther Hycy?"
"Unquestionably, Mr. Burke, when you speak you shame an Oracle; as for
Master Ned--why--
"'I'm owre young,--I'm owre young,
I'm owre young to marry yet,
I'm owre young, 'twould be a sin
To take me from my Daddy yet.'
I think, Master Edward, the Boy-god has already taken occupation;
the vituline affection for the fair Katsey has set in; heigho, what a
delightful period of life is that soft and lickful one of calf love,
when the tongue rolls about the dripping lips, the whites of the eyes
are turned towards the divine, the ox-eyed Katsey, and you are ready to
stagger over and blare out the otherwise unutterable affection.
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