"
"Filthy!" replied Mrs. Purcel, who felt herself called upon to defend
the character of the pig, as well as her own, "why, one would think,
sir, that any crathur that's among Christyen childhre, like one o'
themselves, couldn't be filthy. I could take it to my dyin' day, that
there's not a claner or dacenter pig in the kingdom, than the same pig.
It never misbehaves, the crathur, but goes out, as wise an' riglar, jist
by a look, an' that's enough for it, any day--a single look, your haner,
the poor crathur!"
"I think," observed Phil, from the hob, "that nobody has a betther right
to the run of the house, whedher up stairs or down stairs, _than him
that pays the rint_."
"Well said, my lad!" observed the landlord, laughing at the quaint
ingenuity of Phil's defence. "His payment of the rent is the best
defence possible, and no doubt should cover a multitude of his errors."
"A multitude of his shins, you mane, sir," said Phil, "for thruth he's
all shin."
In fact, Phil from his infancy had an uncommon attachment to these
animals, and by a mind naturally shrewd and observing, made himself
as intimately acquainted with their habits and instincts, and the best
modes of managing them, as ever the celebrated _Cahir na Cappul_* did
with those of the horse. Before he was fifteen, he could drive the most
vicious and obstinate pig as quietly before him as a lamb; yet no one
knew how, nor by what means he had gained the secret that enabled him to
do it.
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