"It's a blissin' we've got baccy, any how.

Tis mesilf that could niver git on without it." "I wish you joy of it, Barney.

It may fill your mouth, but it can't stop your hunger." "Och, boy, it's little ye know! Sure it stops the cravin's o' hunger, and kapes yer stumick from callin' out for iver, till ye fall in with somethin' to ate." "It does not seem to stop the mouth then, Barney, for you call out for grub oftener than I do; and then you say that you couldn't get on without it; so you're a slave to it, old boy.

I wouldn't be a slave to anything if I could help it." "Martin, lad, ye're gittin' deep.

Take care now, or ye'll be in mettlefeesics soon.