Jack never woke till the next morning, and then he was in a sad way. "'Tis to no use for me thinking to make that old Rapparee drunk," said Jack, "and how in this world can I help the poor souls out of the lobster-pots?" After ruminating nearly the whole day, a thought struck him. "I have it," says he, slapping his knee; "I'll be sworn that Coo never saw a drop of _poteen_, as old as he is, and that's the _thing_ to settle him! Oh! then, is not it well that Biddy will not be home these two days yet; I can have another twist at him." Jack asked Coo again, and Coo laughed at him for having no better head, telling him he'd never come up to his grandfather. "Well, but try me again," said Jack, "and I'll be bail to drink you drunk and sober, and drunk again." "Anything in my power," said Coo, "to oblige you." At this dinner Jack took care to have his own liquor well watered, and to give the strongest brandy he had to Coo. At last says he, "Pray, sir, did you ever drink any poteen?--any real mountain dew?" "No," says Coo; "what's that, and where does it come from?" "Oh, that's a secret," said Jack, "but it's the right stuff--never believe me again, if 'tis not fifty times as good as brandy or rum either. Biddy's brother just sent me a present of a little drop, in exchange for some brandy, and as you're an old friend of the family, I kept it to treat you with." "Well, let's see what sort of thing it is," said Coomara. The _poteen_ was the right sort. It was first-rate, and had the real smack upon it. Coo was delighted: he drank and he sung _Rum bum boodle boo_ over and over again; and he laughed and he danced, till he fell on the floor fast asleep. Then Jack, who had taken good care to keep himself sober, snapt up the cocked hat--ran off to the rock--leaped in, and soon arrived at Coo's habitation.