“Here, Larry Brady, take the door off the hinges, an' lay it down on the flure, till Dick Malone dances the _Humors of Glynn_: silence, boys, not a word; but just keep lookin' an.” “Who'll sing, sir? for I can't be afther dancin' a step widout the music.” “Boys, which of yez'll sing for Dick? I say, boys, will none of yez give Dick the Harmony? Well, come, Dick, I'll sing for you myself: “Tooral lol, lorral lol, lorral lol, lorral, lol-- Toldherol, lorral lol, lorral lol, lol,” etc., etc. “I say, Misther Kavanagh,” said the strange master, “what angle does Dick's heel form in the second step of the treble, from the kibe on the left foot to the corner of the door forninst him?” To this mathematical poser Mat made no reply, only sang the tune with redoubled loudness and strength, whilst little Dicky pounded the old crazy door with all his skill and alacrity. The “boys” were delighted. “Bravo, Dick, that's a man,--welt the flure--cut the buckle--murder the clocks--rise upon suggaun, and sink upon gad---down the flure flat, foot about--keep one foot on the ground and t'other never off it,” saluted him from all parts of the house. Sometimes he would receive a sly hint, in a feigned voice, to call for “Devil stick the Fiddler,” alluding to the master. Now a squeaking voice would chime in; by and by another, and so on until the master's bass had a hundred and forty trebles, all in chorus to the same tune. Just at this moment the two gentlemen altered; and, reader, you may conceive, but I cannot describe, the face which Mat (who sat with his back to the door, and did not; see them until they were some time in the house), exhibited on the occasion. There he sung ore rotundo, throwing forth an astonishing tide of voice; whilst little Dick, a thin, pale-faced urchin, with his head, from which the hair stood erect, sunk between his hollow shoulders, was performing prodigious feats of agility. “What's the matter? what's the matter?” said the gentlemen. “Good morning, Mr. Kavanagh!” ----Tooral lol, lol---- Oh, good---Oh, good morning---gintlemen, with extrame kindness,” replied Mat, rising suddenly up, but not removing his hat, although the gentlemen instantly uncovered. “Why, thin, gintlemen,” he continued, “you have caught us in our little relaxations to-day; but--hem!--I mane to give the boys a holiday for the sake of this honest and respectable gintleman in the frize jock, who is not entirely ignorant, you persave, of litherature; and we had a small taste, gintlemen, among ourselves, of Sathurnalian licentiousness, _ut ita dicam_, in regard of--hem!--in regard of this lad here, who was dancing a hornpipe upon the door, and we, in absence of betther music, had to supply him with the harmony; but, as your honors know, gintlemen, the greatest men have bent themselves on espacial occasions.” “Make no apology, Mr. Kavanagh; it's very commendable in you to bend yourself by condescending to amuse your pupils.”