' "Hould your tongue, ye fool," said the
squire, "an' I'll tell you why I'm unasy on
my leg," says he. "In the place, where I
spend most iv my time," says he, "except
the little leisure I have for lookin' about me
here," says he, "I have to walk a great dale
more than I was ever used to," says he,
"and by far more than is good for me either,"
says he; "for I must tell you," says he,
"the people where I am is ancommonly
fond iv cowld wather, for there is nothin'
betther to be had; an', moreover, the
weather is hotter than is altogether plisant,"
says he; "and I'm appinted," says he,
"to assist in carryin' the wather, an' gets
a mighty poor share iv it myself," says he,
"an' a mighty throublesome, wearin' job it
is, I can tell you," says he; "for they're
all iv them surprisinly dthry, an' dthrinks
it as fast as my legs can carry it," says he;
"but what kills me intirely," says he, "is
the wakeness in my leg," says he, "an' I
want you to give it a pull or two to bring
it to shape," says he, "and that's the long
an' the short iv it," says he.

' "Oh, plase your honour," says my
father (for he didn't like to handle the
sperit at all), "I wouldn't have the
impidence to do the likes to your honour,"