"Don't meddle with the head, friend, that's not your trade. Oh, by the bye," Shuffle continued, "talking of heels, I want to consult you about a new sort of elastic sole and heel, after my own invention: one that shall enable a man to swim along the river like a goose, at the rate of fifteen miles an hour! I have just discovered that the goose owes its swiftness to the shape of its feet. Now, my water-shoe must be made to spread itself open, when the foot is extended, and close as it advances." "Well done, gentleman," interposed the poor Irish traveller, "this bates the cork jacket anyhow in life!" "Who the devil are you, sir?" asked Shuffle, "and what business have you to crack jokes?" "The only little objection that I see to your contrivance," continued Pat, "is that the patent shoe will be just after turning into a clog as soon as it gits under water, good luck to it." "The devil take me if that warn't a capital joke! So well done, master Pat," said Hodson. "Is that an Irish wig you have got on your head, Pat?" Shuffle asked, by way of being even with him. "For God's sake sink the shop, Shuffle, and let's have a little genteel conversation," said Hodson, imitating Shuffle's late affectation of voice and manner. "Pray what do you Irish know about wig-making?" asked Shuffle, disregarding Hodson. "And may be you would not approve nather, of their nate, compact little fashion of breaking a head, perhaps?" inquired Pat very quietly. "Come, come, my comical fellow," said Hodson, "don't be so hot. Mr. Shuffle only meant to remark that it was a pity to wear a red wig over your fine head of hair." "Arrah, by my sowl! and is it under it you'd have me wear it?" asked the Irishman. "You're a funny chap! but I loves to see a man in good spirits," Hodson remarked. "Is it in good spirits then, you reckon me? Sure and you're out there anyhow in life; for the devil a drop of spirits have I poured into me, good, bad or indifferent since yesterday, worse luck to me!" "What, are you out of employment then?" Mrs. Hodson inquired. "No my dear lady, in regard to my being employed just now, looking out for work." Shuffle inquired how long he had left Ireland. "Not more than a month, your honour; and four weeks out of that time have I been wandering about the great, gawky village of London, up one strate and down the tother, in search of a friend, and sorrow bit of the smallest intelligence can I gain, anyhow in the world, of poor Kitty O'Mara." "And is that absolutely necessary?" I asked. "And did I not promise Mistress Kitty, the mother of him, that I would stick by her darling till the breath was clane out of his body? and then, after our death, wasn't it by mutual agreement between Kitty and me, that we should dig each other a nate, tight bit of a grave, and bury each other, in a jontale, friendly manner? so that, what with disappointment, fatigue, and the uncommon insults which have been put upon me lately, sure and I'm completely bothered!"