"Now, your honor, I hope I'll do." Lucre saw it was useless to remonstrate with him, and said, with more temper than could be expected-- "Man, what's your business ?" "I come, sirra,"-- this man had a habit of pronouncing sir as sirra, which he could never overcome--"to tell your reverence to enther me down at wanst." "For what purpose should I enter you down ?" "For the money, sirra; I have seven o' them, and we'll all go.

You may christen us if you wish, sirra.

'Deed I'm tould we must all be christened over agin, an' in that case, maybe it 'ud be plaisin' to you to stand godfather for me, yourself, your reverence." "What do you mean ?--but I suppose I understand you." "I mean, sirra, to become a Protestan--I an' my family, I'm Nickey Feasthalagh, that was in on suspicion o' the burnin' of Nugent's hay; and by them five crasses I was as innocent of that as the child onborn, so I was.

Sure they couldn't prove an me, becoorse I came out wid flying colors, glory be to God! Here I am now, sir, an' a right good Prodestan I'll make when I come to understand it.

An' let me whisper this, sirra, I'll be dam useful in fairs and markets to help the Orangemen to lick ourselves, your honor, in a skrimmage or party fight, or anything o' that kidney." "I am sorry, Nick Fistula, as you say your name is--" "Mickey, sirra." "Well, Nickey, or Nick, or whatever it may be, I am sorry to say that you won't do.