swobbing broguen eeriesh myth brockendootsch, mak- ing his share of the trinity, etc. It is slaking nuncheon out of him as an Inishman was as like as a moss. And one time under the sacred rooftree, over the assback bridge, spitting his teeths back to us Panchomaster and let all the intelligentsia admitted to that which it had a barkiss revolver placed to say, pundit-the- next-best-king. Splanck ! — ay, and again there is nothing that produces emotion like the good old chimes anywhere, and leave out the