"Gracious Heaven! Connell, is the man dead?" she inquired.
"Faith, thin, he is, ma'am,--for a while, any how; but, upon my credit,
it's a burnin' shame, so it is,"--
"The man is drunk, my dear," said her husband--"he's only drunk."
"--a burnin' shame, so it is--to be able to bear no more nor about six
glasses, an' the whiskey good, too. Will you ordher one o' thim to show
me his bed, ma'am, if you plase," continued Peter, "while he's an me?
It'll save throuble."
"Connell is right," observed his landlord. "Gallagher, show him John's
bed-room."
Peter accordingly followed another servant, who pointed out his bed, and
assisted to place the vanquished footman in a somewhat easier position
than that in which Peter had carried him.
"Connell," said his landlord, when he returned, "how did this happen?"
"Faith, thin, it's a burnin' shame," said Connell, "to be able only to
bear"--
"But how did it happen? for he has been hitherto a perfectly sober man."
"Faix, plase your honor, asy enough," replied Peter; "he began to
lecthur me about! dhrinkin' so, says I, 'Come an' sit down behind the
hedge here, an' we'll talk it over between us;' so we went in, the two
of us, a-back o' the ditch--an' he began to advise me agin dhrink, an'
I began to tell him about her that's gone, sir.
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