I say, Murtagh, the Irish owe much to the Danes.

.

." "Devil a bit, Shorsha, do they owe to the thaives, except many a bloody bating and plundering, which they never paid them back.

Och, Shorsha! you, edicated in ould Ireland, to say that the Irish owes anything good to the plundering villains--the Siol Loughlin." "They owe them half their traditions, Murtagh, and amongst others Finn-ma- Coul and the burnt finger; and if ever I publish the Loughlin songs, I'll tell the world so." "But, Shorsha, the world will never believe ye--to say nothing of the Irish part of it." "Then the world, Murtagh--to say nothing of the Irish part of it--will be a fool, even as I have often thought it; the grand thing, Murtagh, is to be able to believe oneself, and respect oneself.

How few whom the world believes, believe and respect themselves." "Och, Shorsha! shall I go on with the tale of Finn ?" "I'd rather you should not, Murtagh; I know all about it already." "Then why did you bother me to tell it at first, Shorsha?
Och, it was doing my ownself good, and making me forget my own sorrowful state, when ye interrupted me with your thaives of Danes! Och, Shorsha! let me tell you how Finn, by means of sucking his thumb, and the witchcraft he imbibed from it, contrived to pull off the arm of the ould wagabone, Darmod David Odeen, whilst shaking hands with him--for Finn could do no feat of strength without sucking his thumb, Shorsha, as Conan the Bald told the son of Oisin in the song which I used to sing ye in Dungarvon times of old;" and here Murtagh repeated certain Irish words to the following effect:-- "O little the foolish words I heed, O Oisin's son, from thy lips which come; No strength were in Finn for valorous deed, Unless to the gristle he suck'd his thumb." "Enough is as good as a feast, Murtagh, I am no longer in the cue for Finn.