“You are welcome to our mansion, Paddy Corbett,” interrupted the hospitable master of the cavern; “the house is covered in, the rent paid, and the cruiskeen of brandy unadulterated; so eat, drink, and be merry. When the moon rises, we can proceed to business.” Paddy Corbett was about to return thanks when the interminable Shane Glas again broke in. “I never saw a man, beggin’ yer pardon, Misther Cronin, lade a finer or rolickinger life than your own four bones--drinking an’ coorting on land, and spreading the canvass of the Colleen Ayrigh over the salt say, for the good o’ thrade. _Manim syr Shyre_, if I had Trig Dowl the piper forninst me there, near the cruiskeen, but I’d drink an’ dance till morning. But here’s God bless us, an’ success to our thrip, Paddy, avrahir;” and he drained his glass. Then when many a successive round went past, and the famished-looking wretch grew intoxicated, he called out at the top of his voice, “Silence for a song,” and in a tone somewhat between the squeak of a pig and the drone of a bagpipe, poured forth a lyric, of which we shall present one or two stanzas to the reader. I thravelled France an’ Spain, an’ likewise in Asia, Fal de ral, &c &c. And spint many a long day at my aise in Arabia, Fal de ral, &c &c. Pur-shoeing of their ways, their sates an’ their farims, But sich another place as the lakes o’ Killarney I never saw elsewhere, the air being most charming, Fal de ral, &c &c. There the Muses came to make it their quarthers, Fal de ral, &c &c. An’ for their ray-creation they came from Castalia, Fal de ral, &c &c. With congratulations playing for his lordship, A viewing of that place, I mean sweet Killarney, That the music been so sweet, the lake became enchanted, Fal de ral, &c &c.