“Be my soul,” says I, “ye’ve made a nate kettle of fish of it!--Arrah, Dick, _avourneeine_--ar’n’t ye in the centre of a hobble--coorting’s one thing, and marryin’s another--Wouldn’t the priest be proud of ye to go back with Miss Callaghan under ye’re arm?--and with about as much money as would pay turnpike for a walking stick.” Feaks, things looked but quare the more we considered them; so we thought we would order a chaise, push on to Moate, and lave Sophy Callaghan to her own amiable family, as she was too valuable for us. But, as matters turned up, we wer’n’t allowed to set off as asy as we intended. Before the chaise could come round, we heard feet upon the stairs, and the door opens, and in comes five as loose lookin’ lads as ye would meet in a day’s walk. They were all fresh, as if they had been hard at the drinkin’,--and they were bent on mischief,--for the second fellow had a twist in the eye, and a pistol-case under his arm. “Mister Macnamara,” says the first, “my name’s Callaghan. There’s no use for any rigmarole, as the light’s goin’ fast, so I just stepped in to ask you consarnin’ your intentions towards my sister Sophy.” “The divil an intention have I, good or bad, about ye’r sister Sophy,” replied Dick, as stiff as a churchwarden. “Then ye can be at no loss to guess the consequence?” “Feaks, an’ I am,” says Dick; “as I’m no conjuror.” “If ye don’t marry her within an hour,” says he, “I’ll be after sayin’ something disagreeable.” “I’ll not keep ye in suspense half the time,” replied Dick. “Then ye’ll marry her?” says he. “You were nivir more astray,” replied Dick, “since ye were born.” “Then I’ll trouble ye for satisfaction,” says he. “With all my heart,” says Dick. “What time in the mornin’,” said the other, “would fit ye’r convanience?” “We’re rather in a hurry,” says Dick, pointin’ to the post-chay that had come round, and on which the hostler was tyin’ the traps, “to-night would be a great accommodation, if it was the same to you.” “Ye ca’n’t do better,” says one of the others, “than step up to the ball-room. There’s good light still, and the room’s long enough.” Be gogstay! Dick Macnamara closed with the offer like a man. I was sent for the pistols, and the gentlemen called for a bottle of sherry. You see, in case of accident, it would come well before a jury that they drank each other’s healths, and fought in perfect friendship, for that would benefit the survivor. They slipped into the ball-room, and every body thought the thing was settled, they were so quiet and civil with each other as they went up stairs. The pistols were charged--“An’ now,” says Callaghan, “for the last time, I ask ye, will ye have my sister Sophy?” “Arrah, don’t lose the light in talkin’--ye have my answer already,” says Dick Macnamara. Well, they were placed in the corners of the room, and a man with a red nose asked, “if they were ready?” Both said, “Yes!”