Τουτοις μεν δρυμοις ανθων ανασσα, Ο κόσμος ευρυς και Ιερνα πασα Ιχθυες αει και πεσσευουσι, Καλησι ροης εν Πυργ-Ὕδεῳ. Βλαρνεας υλαι και Βαλλη-Κενεαλη, Το Θωμας-αστυ και ιλαρον, Ραθκορμακος τε φιλ ̓ Αββηφαιλη Θαμα μευ κραδιην εβάσκανον, Εωρακα μεν Σεννανου ροας Βαρρου ρέεθρα και Βρυδεου, Αλλ' ουδαμ' οψω ρεεθρ' η ποας, Ομοια τουτων Πυργ-Ὕδεου. The richest groves in this Irish nation In fine plantations you'll find them there The rose, and tulip, and fine carnation, All vie with the lily fair. The buck, the doe, the fox, the eagle, The trout and salmon they play back-gammon I rode from Blarney to Bally-Kenealy, The river Shannon and pleasant Boyne 56 CHAPTER II. . A SECOND LETTHER FROM MR. BARNEY BRALLAGHAN, PIPER, ETC., TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQUIRE ; IN WHICH HE CONTINUES HIS ACCOUNT OF THE DEIPNOSOPHIST CLUB, AND ITS MIMBERS; THEIR FURST MEETIN' AND DOCTHOR MAGINN'S INAUGURAL SARMINT ON THE DHRINK. Paddy's Goose, Ratcliffe Highway. DEAR SIR,-Well, well af that Crofty Croker ai'nt the dearest darlintist little fella that ever swigged punch I'm a Dutchman. I supposes Misther Yorke ye remimbers that in my furst letther to your worship, which created so much talk in the Clubs, I gev a passin' kind of a random invitayshin to the little linnet of a crayture to get dhrunk with me and my family on the Twelft Nite. Small noshin I had thin that Masther Croughty 'ud look on it in any other light than a joak or may be a plug to fill up a broken crevice in a sintince. But by the hokey 'twas quite differint. Down he came sure enuff in the 'bus to Ratcliffe Highway; and whin I heerd some one inquirin' for Misther Brallaghan, of the Paddy's Goose, faix at furst my heart lept into my mouth, for I was beginnin' to think that it might be a bum bailiff with a writ from my taylor Misther Stultz, whom I regrets much to say I have'nt ped any time these five years. But judge my delight and sattisfaxshin, whin instead of a ketchpole I beheld the purty little gim of a fellar comin into me with his identicle oaken shilaylee in his hand, and his shinin' gray eye lit up by the laste taste in life of the ginuine potheen. "Barney darlint," sez he, I come to except yer invitashin, This day's the 66 Twelft Night; and wo'nt we have a rale roarin' supper of pulloneys, purl, and Irish whiskey?" I declare the tears kem into my eyes, and I was'nt able to mutther a word. I only shuck him by the fist, and tuck the little joaker into my wife Judy and the childher who was dhrinkin a dhrop o' gin punch in the bed chamber. The minnit Judy seen Misther Tom, ye'd think she'd fly out of her chemise with rapture. Up she jumpt from the bed where she was settin', and lettin' fall the youngest o' the babbies in her hurry, (loud enuff bedad the imp of darkness roared whin his head kem in conthract with the floor, and I suppose he'd be roaring still only Misther Tom gev him a slice o' Jarman sassage out of his breeches pocket) she tuck little Croker in her arms, and af she did'nt kiss him and hug him, till I thought she'd never have done. Be gogsty ye'd imagine she had'nt seen him for a score o' twelvemonths, so much she rejoiced at havin' him again. 'Tis thrue that a long time had elapsed sence we last saw him ;-for Misther Crofty is, they say, too much taken up with Grandukes and Dutchasses, and people o' that kidney, to think much of a poor piper like me; yet, howsomever, he has a real likin' for uss-bless his little heart, I know he has and so we're all as fond of him as if he was our own natherral flesh and blood. Well be Jewpether we all sat down to the puddin' and whiskey, and what a glorious night we had. Misther Croughton sang and danced, joaked and laft, and tould sich stories and lagends all about joyants and fairies, and Docthor Maginn's romance of Dannel O'Rourke, and dandled the childher on his knee, and kist my wife, and hugged myself, and did all the ludicrousest things possible, and a dale more I'll go bail than aither of us can recollickt; until we both woke on the mornin' of the seventh of January, and found ourselves lyin' undher the table and poor Judy, the Lord between us and harm, with her arms round about Misther Croker fast asleep, and the childher without a screed or scrap o' clothes on 'em (not so much as a shirt as I hopes to be saved,) and the table upset, the purl and sassages on the floor, and the praties thrown about like ould rags. Arrah how quare we looked whin we opened our eyes! However Misther Tom and me only made it the subject for more joakin' and afther a good brekwist of bacon, ingyuns, and gin and wather, Croughty shuck hands wid us all, and kist us agen, and wint away himself and his wattle in a cabriolay to the Admiralthry. I'd lay a good round o' punch that he had'nt sich lots and lashins and lavins of fun this long |