Never were such songs heard as Phelim could sing, nor such a
voice as that with which he sang them. His attitudes and action were
inimitable. The droop in his eye was a standing wink at the girls;
and when he sang his funny songs, with what practised ease he gave the
darlings a roguish chuck under the chin! Then his jokes! "Why, faix,"
as the fair ones often said of him, "before Phelim speaks at all, one
laughs at what he says." This was fact. His very appearance at a wake,
dance, or drinking match, was hailed by a peal of mirth. This heightened
his humor exceedingly; for say what you will, laughter is to wit what
air is to fire--the one dies without the other.
Let no one talk of beauty being on the surface. This is a popular error,
and no one but a superficial fellow would defend it Among ten thousand
you could not get a more unfavorable surface than Phelim's. His face
resembled the rough side of a cullender, or, as he was often told in
raillery, "you might grate potatoes on it." The lid of his left eye,
as the reader knows, was like the lid of a salt-box, always closed; and
when he risked a wink with the right, it certainly gave him the look of
a man shutting out the world, and retiring into himself for the purpose
of self-examination. No, no; beauty is in the mind; in the soul;
otherwise Phelim never could have been such a prodigy of comeliness
among the girls.
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