“An' I say that, too,” exclaimed the drunken ruffian--“A say that; A do. A'm married to his daughter; an' A say stull, that d------my blood, bit A'll stick to my father-in-laa! That's the point!”--and again he nodded his head, and looked round him with a drunken swagger:--“A'll stick to my father-in-laa! A'll do that; feth, A wull!”* * This dialect is local. It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader, that the Colonel's address to Carson soon got among the assembled tenantry, and a vehement volley of groans and hisses followed the discarded agent up the street. “Ha! bad luck to you for an ould villain. You were made to hear on the deaf side o' your head at last! You may take the black wool out o' your ears now, you rip! The cries an' curses o' the widows an' orphans that you made and oppressed, has ris up agin you at the long run! Ha! you beggarly nager! maybe you'll make us neglect our own work to do yours agin! Go an' gather the dhry cow-cakes, you misert, an' bring them home in your pocket, to throw on the dunghill!” “Do you remimber the day,” said others, “you met Mr. M., an' you goin' up the street wid a cake of it in your fists, undher your shabby skirts; an' whin the gintlemen wint to shake hands wid you, how he discovered your maneness? Three groans for Yallow Sam, the extortioner! a short coorse to him! Your corner's warm for you, you villain!” “But now, boys, for the Colonel!” they exclaimed.--“Huzza for noble Colonel B------ the rale Irish gintlemen, that wouldn't see his tenants put upon by a villain!--Huzza! Hell resave yees, shout! Huzza! Huzza! Huzza! Huz--tundher-an'-ounze, my voice is cracked! Where's his coach?--where's his honor's coach? Come, boys, out wid it,--out wid it! Tattheration to yees, come! We'll dhraw it to the divil, to hell an' back agin, if it plases him! Success to Colonel B------! Blood-an-turf! what'll we do for a fight? Long life to noble Colonel B------, the poor man's friend!--long life to him for ever an' a day longer! Whoo! my darlins! Huzza!” etc. The warm interest which the Colonel took in M'Evoy's behalf, was looked upon by the other tenants as a guarantee of his sincerity in all he promised. Their enthusiasm knew no bounds. They got out his carriage from the Inn-Yard, and drew it through the town, though the Colonel himself, beyond the fact of their shouting, remained quite ignorant of what was going forward. After Carson's departure, the Colonel's friends, having been first asked to dine with him at the inn, also took their leave, and none remained but M'Evoy, who waited with pleasing anxiety to hear what the Colonel proposed to say--for he felt certain that it would be agreeable.