power to cheer him with the hope of a drubbing; told him he lived
in an excellent country for a man afflicted with his malady; and
promised, if it were at all possible, to create him a private enemy
or two, who, they hoped in heaven, might trounce him to some purpose.

This sustained him for a while; but as day after day passed and
no appearance of action presented itself, he could not choose but
increase in courage. His soul, like a sword-blade too long in the
scabbard, was beginning to get fuliginous by inactivity. He looked
upon the point of his own needle and the bright edge of his scissors
with a bitter pang when he thought of the spirit rusting within
him; he meditated fresh insults, studied new plans, and hunted out
cunning devices for provoking his acquaintances to battle, until
by degrees he began to confound his own brain and to commit more
grievous oversights in his business than ever. Sometimes he sent home
to one person a coat with the legs of a pair of trousers attached
to it for sleeves, and despatched to another the arms of the aforesaid
coat tacked together as a pair of trousers. Sometimes the coat was
made to button behind instead of before; and he frequently placed
the pockets in the lower part of the skirts, as if he had been in
league with cutpurses.

This was a melancholy situation, and his friends pitied him
accordingly.

"Don't be cast down, Neal," said they; "your friends feel for you,
poor fellow."

"Divil carry my frinds," replied Neal; "sure, there's not one o'
yez frindly enough to be my inimy. Tare an' ouns! what'll I do?