' "Oh," says my father, "I'm only a
foolish, ignorant poor man," says he.

' "You're nothing else," says the squire:
"but any way," says he, "it's not to be
listenin' to your gosther, nor convarsin'
with the likes iv you, that I came UP--
down I mane," says he--(an' as little as
the mistake was, my father tuk notice iv
it). "Listen to me now, Terence Neil,"
says he: "I was always a good masther
to Pathrick Neil, your grandfather," says
he.

' " 'Tis thrue for your honour," says my
father.

' "And, moreover, I think I was always
a sober, riglar gintleman," says the squire.

' "That's your name, sure enough," says
my father (though it was a big lie for him,
but he could not help it).

' "Well," says the sperit, "although I
was as sober as most men--at laste as
most gintlemin," says he; "an' though I
was at different pariods a most extempory
Christian, and most charitable and inhuman
to the poor," says he; "for all that