and that am excadingly will proportioned all over to match? And it is
ralelly more than three fut and a bit that there is, inny how, of the
little ould furrener Frinchman that lives jist over the way, and that's a
oggling and a goggling the houl day, (and bad luck to him,) at the purty
widdy Misthress Tracle that's my own nixt-door neighbor, (God bliss her!)
and a most particuller frind and acquaintance? You percave the little
spalpeen is summat down in the mouth, and wears his lift hand in a sling,
and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that I'm going to give you the
good rason.

The truth of the houl matter is jist simple enough; for the very first day
that I com'd from Connaught, and showd my swate little silf in the strait
to the widdy, who was looking through the windy, it was a gone case
althegither with the heart o' the purty Misthress Tracle. I percaved it,
ye see, all at once, and no mistake, and that's God's truth. First of all
it was up wid the windy in a jiffy, and thin she threw open her two
peepers to the itmost, and thin it was a little gould spy-glass that she
clapped tight to one o' them and divil may burn me if it didn't spake to
me as plain as a peeper cud spake, and says it, through the spy-glass:
"Och! the tip o' the mornin' to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt,
mavourneen; and it's a nate gintleman that ye are, sure enough, and it's
mesilf and me forten jist that'll be at yur sarvice, dear, inny time o'
day at all at all for the asking." And it's not mesilf ye wud have to be
bate in the purliteness; so I made her a bow that wud ha' broken yur heart
altegither to behould, and thin I pulled aff me hat with a flourish, and
thin I winked at her hard wid both eyes, as much as to say, "True for you,
yer a swate little crature, Mrs. Tracle, me darlint, and I wish I may be
drownthed dead in a bog, if it's not mesilf, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,
Barronitt, that'll make a houl bushel o' love to yur leddyship, in the
twinkling o' the eye of a Londonderry purraty."