Then there’s Bardolphus, who, as there was a prophet wid the red mouth, is called ‘the prophet wid the red nose.’ Ireland was, it appears from ancient books, undher wather for many hundred years before her discovery; but bein’ allowed to become visible one day in every year, the enchantment was broken by a sword that was thrown upon the earth, an’ from that out she remained dry, an’ became inhabited. ‘Woe, woe, woe,’ says Bardolphus, ‘the time is to come when we’ll have a second deluge, an’ Ireland is to be undher wather once more. A well is to open at Cork that will cover the whole island from the Giants’ Causeway to Cape Clear. In them days St Patrick will be despised, an’ will stand over the pleasant houses wid his pasthoral crook in his hand, crying out _Cead mille failtha_ in vain! Woe, woe, woe,’ says Bardolphus, ‘for in them days there will be a great confusion of colours among the people; there will be neither red noses nor pale cheeks, an’ the divine face of man, alas! will put forth blossoms no more. The heart of the times will become changed; an’ when they rise up in the morning, it will come to pass that there will be no longer light heads or shaking hands among Irishmen! Woe, woe, woe, men, women, and children will then die, an’ their only complaint, like all those who perished in the flood of ould, will be wather on the brain--wather on the brain! Woe, woe, woe,’ says Bardolphus, ‘for the changes that is to come, an’ the misfortunes that’s to befall the many for the noddification of the few! an’ yet such things must be, for I, in virtue of the red spirit that dwells in me, must prophesy them. In those times men will be shod in liquid fire an’ not be burned; their breeches shall be made of fire, an’ will not burn them; their bread shall be made of fire, an’ will not burn them; their meat shall be made of fire, an’ will not burn them; an’ why?--Oh, woe, woe, wather shall so prevail that the coolness of their bodies will keep them safe; yea, they shall even get fat, fair, an’ be full of health an’ strength, by wearing garments wrought out of liquid fire, by eating liquid fire, an’ all because they do not drink liquid fire--an’ this calamity shall come to pass,’ says Bardolphus, the prophet of the red nose. Two widows shall be grinding at the Mill of Louth (so saith the prophecy); one shall be taken and the other left.” Thus would Barney proceed, repeating such ludicrous and heterogeneous mixtures of old traditionary prophecies and spurious quotations from Scripture as were concocted for him by those who took delight in amusing themselves and others at the expense of his inordinate love for prophecy. “But, Barney, touching the Mill o’ Louth, of the two widows grindin’ there, whether will the one that is taken or the one that is left be the best off?”