Saize the day. An' along wid them goes the parsons,
procthors, tithes an' taxes, all to the devil together. That day's not
very far off, d----d villains! An' now I tell ye, that if a hair o' my
head's touched--ay, if I was hanged to-morrow--I'd lave them behind me
that 'ud put a bullet, wid the help an' blessin' O Grod, through any one
that'll injure me! So lay that to your conscience, an' do your best. Be
the crass, O'Connell I'll make you look nine ways at wanst for this!
He's the boy can put the pin in your noses! He's the boy can make yez
thrimble, one an' all o' yez--like a dog in a wet sack! An', wid the
blessin' o' God, he'll help us to put our feet on your necks afore
long!"
"That's a prudent speech," observed the jailer; "it will serve you very
much."
Phelim consigned him to a very warm settlement in reply.
"Bring the ruffian off" added the jailer; "put him in solitary
confinement."
"Put me wid Foodie Flattery," said Phelim; "you've got him here,
an' I'll go nowhere else. Faith, you'll suffer for givin' me false
imprisonment. Doesn't O'Connell's name make you shake? Put me wid Foodie
Flattery, I say."
"Foodie Flattery! There is no such man here. Have you got such a person
here?" inquired the jailer of the turnkey.
"Not at present," said the turnkey; "but I know Foodie well. We've had
him here twice.
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