“‘We, munseer,’ says he. “‘Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,’ says I, ‘and bad scram to you.’ “Well, bad win to the bit of it he’d gi’ me, and the ould chap begins bowin’ and scrapin’, and said something or other about a long tongs. [Footnote: Some mystification of Paddy’s touching the French n’tends.] “‘Phoo!--the divil swape yourself and your tongs,’ says I; ‘I don’t want a tongs at all at all; but can’t you listen to raison?’ says I. ‘Parly voo frongsay?’ “‘We, munseer.’ “‘Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,’ says I, ‘and howld your prate.’ “Well, what would you think, but he shook his old noddle as much as to say he wouldn’t; and so says I, ‘Bad cess to the likes o’ that I ever seen! Throth, if you wor in my counthry, it’s not that away they’d use you. The curse o’ the crows an you, you ould sinner,’ says I; ‘the divil a longer i’ll darken your door.’ “So he seen I was vexed; and I thought, as I was turnin’ away, I seen him begin to relint, and that his conscience throubled him; and says I, turnin’ back, ‘Well, I’ll give you one chance more, you ould thief. Are you a Chrishthan at all? Are you a furriner,’ says I,’ that all the world calls so p’lite? Bad luck to you, do you understand your own language? Parly voo frongsay?’ says I. “‘We, munseer,’ says he. “‘Then, thunder an’ turf,’ says I, ‘will you lind me the loan of a gridiron?’ “Well, sir, the divil resa’ve the bit of it he’d gi’ me; and so, with that, ‘The curse o’ the hungry an you, you ould neygarly villain,’ says I; ‘the back o’ my hand and the sowl o’ my foot to you, that you may want a gridiron yourself yit,’ says I. And with that I left them there, sir, and kem away; and, in throth, it’s often sense that I thought that it was remarkable.” THE EMERGENCY MEN BY GEORGE H. JESSOP The fourth morning after his arrival in Dublin, Mr. Harold Hayes, of New York, entered the breakfast-room of the Shelbourne Hotel in a very bad humour. He was sick of the city, of the people, and of his own company. Before leaving London he had written to his friend, Jack Connolly, that he was coming to Ireland, and he had expected to find a reply at the Shelbourne. For three days he had waited in vain, and it was partly, at least, on Jack’s account that Mr. Hayes was in Ireland at all. When Jack sailed from New York he had bound Harold by a solemn promise to spend a few weeks at Lisnahoe on his next visit to Europe. Miss Connelly, who had accompanied her brother on his American tour, had echoed and indorsed the invitation.