"
"But which do you think the more handsome?"
"Thrath, I do, my lady; the Irish and English women would flog the
world, an' sure it would be a burnin' shame to go to sot them agin one
another fwhor beauty."
"Whom do you mean by the 'darlin's beyant?'" inquired the blue-stocking,
attempting to pronounce the words.
"Faix, miss, who but the crathers ower the wather, that kills us
entirely, so they do."
"I cannot comprehend him," she added to the lady of the mansion.
"Arrah, maybe I'd make bould to take up the manners from you fwhor a
while, my lady, Plase yer haner?" said Phil, addressing the latter.
"I do not properly understand you," she replied, "speak plainer."
"Troth, that's fwhat they do, yer haner; they never go about the bush
wit yez--the gintlemen, ma'am, of our country, fwhin they do be coortin'
yez; an' I want to ax, ma'am, if you plase, fwhat you think of thim,
that is if ever any of them had the luck to come acrass you, my lady?"
"I have not been acquainted with many Irish gentlemen," she replied,
"but I hear they are men of a remarkable character."
"Faix, 'tis you may say that," replied Phil; "sowl, my lady, 'tis well
for the masther here, plase yer haner, sir, that none o' them met
wit the misthress before you was both marrid, or, wit riverence be it
spoken, 'tis the sweet side o' the tongue they'd be layin' upon you,
ma'am, an' the rough side to the masther himself, along wit a few
scrapes of a pen on a slip o' paper, jist to appoint the time and place,
in regard of her ladyship's purty complexion--an' who can deny that,
any way? Faix, ma'am, they've a way wit them, my counthrymen, that the
ladies like well enough to thravel by.
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