“I don’t know you, sir!” roared the doctor in an agony, hoping by his ferocity to overawe the countryman into silence; but Paddy had taken too much punch to notice the tone, and seemed incapable of entertaining or following up more than one idea at a time, and the one now before him was that of forcing himself, will he nill he, upon the recollection of the worthy doctor. “Ye don’t know me!--well, listen to that!--ye don’t know me!--oh, well, iv that does’nt flog! Arrah, thin, maybe ye don’t recollect the bog-hole that ye wanted me to carry ye over, an’ ye war so mortial heavy that my fut slipped, an’ I had the luck to fall an my face, jist at the very edge iv the slush, an’ ye pitched right-over, head foremost, into the very middle iv id; an’ iv id was’nt for the good luck that yer legs stuck out, jist the laste taste in life, by which I got a hould iv ye, sure would’nt ye be lost intirely? An’ don’t ye”---- “Hold your tongue, you infernal scoundrel!” roared the enraged doctor, who saw that every eye was fixed upon him, and every one’s attention drawn to the spot, from the eagerness of manner and stentorian voice of Paddy, whose reminiscence had produced a roar of laughter. Escape, too, was utterly hopeless, for the tent had been filling, and the doorway was blocked up by those who were pressing forward from the outside to get a view of the speaker. “Hold your tongue, sirrah; you mistake me for some one else. I never was thrown into a bog-hole in my life.” “Oh! pillelieu! meellia murther! listen to that--as iv any one that iver seen Docthor M-- ov Thrinity College could iver mistake him agin; bud sure Docthor H-- there ’ill may be help out yer mimory [Dr H-- gave a writhe, for he had hoped to have escaped, at least]; sure he was at the colonel’s whin ye war brought home in the muck.” This announcement of the names and address of both the unfortunate betrayed, was received with a shout, whilst Paddy’s earnestness to free himself from the charge of having blundered, increased every moment, and reminiscence followed reminiscence, each in a louder tone than the preceding, until his argument became a perfect shout, whilst the unlucky S.F.T.C.D.’s strove to out-bellow him with their denials, and the audience laughed, shouted, and danced with glee at the fun. “I protest,” bawled Dr H--, “that I do not know Colonel Trench. You mistake, my honest man; I never was at his place in my life. My friend here, Dr M--, knows him, and has been there often; but I have not, I assure you.” “Oh! you ass,” bellowed Dr M--, “what do you acknowledge my name for? ’Tis no wonder they call you ‘Leatherhead H--.’” A renewed roar followed this piece of blundering recrimination.