"Never heed the filly," Ned would reply, "I'll get Charley Lawdher (*
A blacksmith, and an honest man) to dock her--but it's not her I'm
thinking of: did you hear the news about the tobacky?"

"No; but I hope we won't be long go."

"Well, any how, we wor in luck to buy in them three last rowls."

"Eh?--in luck? death-alive, how, Ned?"

"Sure there was three ships of it lost last week, on their way from the
kingdom of Swuzerland, in the Aist Indians, where it grows: we can rise
it thruppence a-pound now."

"No, Ned! you're not in airnest?"

"Faith, Nancy, you may say I am; and as soon as Tom Loan comes home from
Dublin, he'll tell us all about it; and for that matther, maybe it may
rise sixpence a-pound; any how we'll gain a lob by it, I'm thinking."

"May I never stir, but that's luck! Well, Ned, you may thank me for
that, any way, or sorra rowl we'd have in the four corners of the
house; and you wanted to persuade me against buying them; but I knew
betther--for the tobacky's always sure to get a bit of a hitch at this
time o' the year."

"Bedad, you can do it, Nancy: I'll say that for you--that is, and give
you your own way."

"Eh!--can't I, Ned? And, what waa betther, I bate down Pether M'Entee