_O’Bla._ Of all the employments in life, this eternal balancing of accounts, see-saw, is the most sickening of all things, except it would be the taking the inventory of your stock, when you’re reduced to _invent_ the stock itself;--then that’s the most lowering to a man of all things! But there’s one comfort in this distillery business--come what will, a man has always _proof spirits_. _Enter PAT COXE._ _Pat._ The whole tribe of Connaught men come, craving to be _ped_ for the oats, counsellor, due since last Serapht[1] fair. [Footnote 1: Shrovetide.] _O’Bla._ Can’t be ped to-day, let ‘em crave never so.--Tell ‘em _Monday_; and give ‘em a glass of whiskey round, and that will send ‘em off contint, in a jerry. _Pat._ I shall--I will--I see, sir. [_Exit PAT COXE._ _O’Bla._ Asy settled that!--but I hope many more duns for oats won’t be calling on me this day, for cash is not to be had:--here’s bills plenty--long bills, and short bills--but even the kites, which I can fly as well as any man, won’t raise the wind for me now. _Re-enter PAT._ _Pat._ Tim McGudikren, sir, for his debt--and talks of the sub-sheriff, and can’t wait. _O’Bla._ I don’t ax him to wait; but he must take in payment, since he’s in such a hurry, this bill at thirty-one days, tell him. _Pat._ I shall tell him so, plase your honour. [_Exit PAT._ _O’Bla._ They have all rendezvous’d to drive me mad this day; but the only thing is to keep the head cool. What I’m dreading beyant all is, if that ould Matthew McBride, who is as restless as a ferret when he has lodged money with any one, should come this day to take out of my hands the two hundred pounds I’ve got of his--Oh, then I might shut up! But stay, I’ll match him--and I’ll match myself too: that daughter Honor of his is a mighty pretty girl to look at, and since I can’t get her any other way, why not ax her in marriage? Her portion is to be-- _Re-enter PAT._ _Pat._ The protested note, sir--with the charge of the protest to the back of it, from Mrs. Lorigan; and her compliments, and to know what will she do? _O’Bla._ What will _I_ do, fitter to ax. My kind compliments to Mrs. Lorigan, and I’ll call upon her in the course of the day, to settle it all. _Pat._ I understand, sir. [_Exit PAT._ _O’Bla._ Honor McBride’s portion will be five hundred pounds on the nail--that would be no bad hit, and she a good, clever, likely girl. I’ll pop the question this day. _Re-enter PAT._ _Pat._ Corkeran the cooper’s bill, as long as my arm. _O’Bla._ Oh! don’t be bothering me any more. Have you no sinse? Can’t you get shut of Corkeran the cooper without me? Can’t ye quarrel with the items? Tear the bill down the middle, if necessary, and sind him away with a flay (flea) in his ear, to make out a proper bill--which I can’t see till to-morrow, mind. I never pay any man on fair-day.