ever be out of the kennel, and that the Orange boys will ever walk
round the brass man and horse in College Green as they did of
ould?"

"Who knows?" said I. "But suppose all that were to happen, what
would it signify to you?"

"Why then divil be in my patten if I would not go back to
Donnybrook and Dublin, hoist the Orange cockade, and become as good
an Orange boy as ever."

"What," said I, "and give up Popery for the second time?"

"I would, your hanner; and why not? for in spite of what I have
heard Father Toban say, I am by no means certain that all
Protestants will be damned."

"Farewell," said I.

"Farewell, your hanner, and long life and prosperity to you! God
bless your hanner and your Orange face. Ah, the Orange boys are
the boys for keeping faith. They never served me as Dan O'Connell
and his dirty gang of repalers and emancipators did. Farewell,
your hanner, once more; and here's another scratch of the illigant
tune your hanner is so fond of, to cheer up your hanner's ears upon
your way."

And long after I had left him I could hear him playing on his
fiddle in first-rate style the beautiful tune of "Down, down,
Croppies Lie Down."