"Mat," replied Nancy, scarcely preserving her gravity, "keep yourself
from talkin', an' fall asleep, then you'll be well enough."

"Is there e'er a sup at all in the house?" said Mat; "if there is,
let me get it; for there's an ould proverb, though it's a most
unmathematical axiom as ever was invinted--'try a hair of the same dog
that bit you;' give me a glass, Nancy, an' you can go for Father Connell
after. Oh, by the sowl of Isaac, that invented fluxions, what's this
for?"

A general burst-of laughter followed this demand and ejaculation; and
Mat sat up once more in the settle, and examined the place with keener
scrutiny. Nancy herself laughed heartily; and, as she handed him the
full glass, entered into an explanation of the circumstances attending
his translation. Mat, at all times rather of pliant disposition, felt
rejoiced on finding that he was still compos mentis; and on hearing what
took place, he could not help entering into the humor of the enterprise,
at which he laughed as heartily as any of them.

"Mat," said, the farmer, and half a dozen of the neighbors, "you're a
happy man, there's a hundred of the boys have a school-house half built
for you this same blessed sunshiny mornin', while your lying at aise in
your bed."

"By the sowl of Newton, that invented fluxions!" replied Mat, "but I'll
take revenge for the disgrace you put upon my profession, by stringing
up a schoolmaster among you, and I'll hang you all! It's death to steal
a four-footed animal; but what do you desarve for stealin' a Christian
baste, a two-legged schoolmaster without feathers, eighteen miles, and