“First, plase your honor, as I have him on my shouldhers, will you tell me where his bed is?” replied Peter. “I may as well lave him snug, as my hand's in, poor fellow. The devil's bad head he has, your honor. Faith, it's a burnin' shame, so it is, an' nothin' else--to be able to bear so little!” The lady, children, and servants, were now all assembled about the dead footman, who hung, in the mean time, very quietly round Peter's neck. “Gracious Heaven! Connell, is the man dead?” she inquired. “Faith, thin, he is, ma'am,--for a while, any how; but, upon my credit, it's a burnin' shame, so it is,”-- “The man is drunk, my dear,” said her husband--“he's only drunk.” “--a burnin' shame, so it is--to be able to bear no more nor about six glasses, an' the whiskey good, too. Will you ordher one o' thim to show me his bed, ma'am, if you plase,” continued Peter, “while he's an me? It'll save throuble.” “Connell is right,” observed his landlord. “Gallagher, show him John's bed-room.” Peter accordingly followed another servant, who pointed out his bed, and assisted to place the vanquished footman in a somewhat easier position than that in which Peter had carried him. “Connell,” said his landlord, when he returned, “how did this happen?” “Faith, thin, it's a burnin' shame,” said Connell, “to be able only to bear”-- “But how did it happen? for he has been hitherto a perfectly sober man.” “Faix, plase your honor, asy enough,” replied Peter; “he began to lecthur me about! dhrinkin' so, says I, 'Come an' sit down behind the hedge here, an' we'll talk it over between us;' so we went in, the two of us, a-back o' the ditch--an' he began to advise me agin dhrink, an' I began to tell him about her that's gone, sir. Well, well! och, och! no matther!--So, sir, one story an' one pull from the bottle, brought on another, for divil a glass we had at all, sir. Faix, he's a tindher-hearted boy, anyhow; for as myself I begun to let the tears down, whin the bottle was near out, divil resave the morsel of him but cried afther poor Ellish, as if she had been his mother. Faix, he did! An' it won't be the last sup we'll have together, plase goodness! But the best of it was, sir, that the dhrunker he got, he abused me the more for dhrinkin'. Oh, thin, but he's the pious boy whin he gets a sup in his head! Faix, it's a pity ever he'd be sober, he talks so much scripthur an' devotion in his liquor!” “Connell,” said the landlord, “I am exceedingly sorry to hear that you have taken so openly and inveterately to drink as you have done, ever since the death of your admirable wife. This, in fact, was what occasioned me to send for you. Come into the parlor. Don't go, my dear; perhaps your influence may also be necessary. Gallagher, look to Smith, and see that every attention is paid him, until he recovers the effects of his intoxication.” He then entered the parlor, where the following dialogue took place between him and Peter:--