“Mas’r Owl, sah,” said he, rolling up his eyes and spreading out his hands,--“Mas’r Owl, sah, good morn, sah. I’se so drefful glad to see you, sah!--such a ’mendious honna, sah!” He then made another low bow, after which he went on with an attempt at more scathing sarcasm than ever, in which there was also visible a tinge of something like indignation. “Mas’r Owl, sah, ar you awah, sah, dat you hab ben ’ferin berry much wid de ’pose ob an aged but spectb’l gem’n ob colla, sah? a pus’n, sah, dat’s bettan a dozen ob you, sah--bein as he is a Granpanderdrum, an ’sides bein fessa ob de cool and airy ’partment in dis yah ’Cad’my--fessa, sah, ob ebba so many yeahs’ stan’in, sah--fren ob de docta, sah, an not a pus’n to be ’posed on, sah? Do you know what you are, sah? You’re a mis’ble darky, sah--no better’n a crow, sah! Do you know what I’m gwino to do, sah, dis bressed moment, sah? I’ve biled turkeys, an chickens, an geese, an ducks, an pattidges, an quails, an snipes, but I hab nebba biled a owl. Wal, dat ar’s jest what I’m a gwine to do now, sah. Yes, sah, I’m ’termined ’pon dat ar. In you go to de pot, body, bones, an beak--horns, tail, an all, sah.” “An what’s the use?” said Pat: “shure he isn’t a poll parrot, that can talk back at ye an give ye as gud as he gets. He’s ony an owl, an he can’t spake a wurrud, so he can’t. “Any how, I’se gwine to bile him dis bressed minit.” “Ah, now, be aff wid ye; go long, an don’t be foolin,” cried Pat, as Solomon made an effort to take the owl; “shure he niver did ye any harrum at all at all. Shure he’s Misther Slocum’s tame owl, so he is, that’s run away, an ben livin in our garret--an I’m takin him back to his owner.” “Mis’r Sloc’m,” said Solomon. “Well, Mis’r Sloc’m doesn’t lib down heah--he doesn’t. What you a bringin him heah for?” “Sure he ony wants his mate.” “His mate,” cried Solomon. “Hab his mate flowed off sides him. Ef I fin dat ar mate ’bout dese yah primises, I’ll bile her to pieces.” “Ah, be aff wid ye! Shure it’s ony a paice av mate that I want fur the owl.” “A piece ob meat!” cried Solomon. “Nebba, sah. Dat ar bird hab ’sulted me.” And he drew up his aged form with severe dignity. But Pat coaxed and pleaded, and the end of it was, that Solomon was prevailed on to give him a piece of meat. The owl devoured it greedily, and then Pat took him away to his owner.