"
Owen now heard anecdotes and narratives of all occurrences, whether
interesting or strange, that had taken place during his abscence. Among
others, was the death of his former landlord, and the removal of the
agent who had driven him to beggary. Tubber Derg, he found, was then the
property of a humane and considerate man, who employed a judicious and
benevolent gentleman to manage it.
"One thing, I can tell you," said Frank; "it was but a short time in the
new agent's hands, when the dacent farmers stopped goin' to America."
"But Frank," said Owen, and he sighed on putting the question, "who is
in Tubber Derg, now?"
"Why, thin, a son of ould Rousin' Redhead's of Tullyvernon--young Con
Roe, or the Ace o' Hearts--for he was called both by the youngsters--if
you remimber him. His head's as red an' double as big, even, as his
father's was, an' you know that no hat would fit ould Con, until he sent
his measure to Jemmy Lamb, the hatter. Dick Nugent put it out on
him, that Jemmy always made Rousin' Red-head's hat, either upon the
half-bushel pot or a five-gallon keg of whiskey. 'Talkin' of the keg,'
says Dick, 'for the matther o' that,' says he, 'divil a much differ the
hat will persave; for the one'--meanin' ould Con's head, who was a hard
dhrinker--' the one,' says Con, 'is as much a keg as the other--ha! ha!
ha!' Dick met Rousin' Redhead another day: 'Arrah, Con,' says he, 'why
do you get your hats made upon a pot, man alive? Sure that's the rason
that you're so fond o' poteen.
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