"Why shouldn't I--in the house of an ould acquaintance and particular friend--just the place to feel at home, eh, Stevens ?" then folding his arms and tilting back his chair, he asked, coolly: "You haven't a cigar, have ye ?" "No," replied Stevens, surlily; "and if I had, you should not have it.

Your insolence is unbearable; you appear," continued he, with some show of dignity, "to have forgotten who I am, and who you are." "Ye're mistaken there, squire.

Divil a bit have I.I'm McCloskey, and you are Slippery George--an animal that's known over the 'varsal world as a Philadelphia lawyer--a man that's chated his hundreds, and if he lives long enough, he'll chate as many more, savin' his friend Mr.McCloskey, and him he'll not be afther chating, because he won't be able to get a chance, although he'd like to if he could--divil a doubt of that." "It's false--I never tried to cheat you," rejoined Stevens, courageously, for the liquor was beginning to have a very inspiriting effect.

"It's a lie--I paid you all I agreed upon, and more besides; but you are like a leech--never satisfied.

You have had from me altogether nearly twenty thousand dollars, and you'll not get much more--now, mind I tell you." "The divil I won't," rejoined he, angrily; "that is yet to be seen.