as the _right_ foot, said in a grave voice:--

"'We feel obliged, sir, but we never take anything but water; moreover, our
business now is to relate to you some of the singular adventures of our
life, convinced, that in your hand they will be given to the world in three
handsome volumes.'

"My curiosity was instantly awakened, and I drew my chair closer to my
communicative friends, who, stretching out their legs, prepared to commence
their recital."

"'Hem!' cried the right foot, who appeared to be the spokesman, clearing
his throat and turning to his companion--'hem! which of our adventures
shall I relate first, brother?'

"'Why,' replied the left foot, after a few moments' reflection, 'I don't
think you can do better than tell our friend the story of Terence Duffy and
the heiress.'

"'Egad! you're right, brother; that was a droll affair:' and then,
addressing himself to me, he continued, 'You remember your Uncle Terence? A
funny dog he was, and in his young days the very devil for lovemaking and
fighting. Look here,' said the speaker, pointing to a small circular
perforation in his side, which had been neatly patched. 'This mark, which I
shall carry with me to my grave, I received in an affair between your uncle
and Captain Donovan of the North Cork Militia. The captain one day asserted
in the public library at Ballybreesthawn, that a certain Miss Biddy
O'Brannigan had hair red as a carrot. This calumny was not long in reaching
the ears of your Uncle Terence, who prided himself on being the champion of
the _sex_ in general, and of Miss Biddy O'Brannigan in particular.