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you thief, and the tailor that made your breeches, you're made for wrestling but I'll niek you.' Paddy pulled out his tobacco knife, and gave him a prod in the right place, and down he fell to rise no more. 'O murther; what will become of me now?' says he— 'I've killed this big, ugly black blackguard, and I'll be hanged for him. O murder, murder! O what will become of me!' A proprietor of the plaee eomes up at the moment, 'What is all this about?—what's the matter, my good fellow?' 'Oh, your honour's glory, I'm a stranger—I'm from Cushendall, your honour, I never seen a blaekamoor before, and I just asked one of them to take a drop with me; but he would do dothing but make fun of me, so I gave him a prod, for I eould not get hold of him—Stop, stop there's a bear lying there, take eare.'—'the blackamoor,' 'By the holy father', says Paddy, 'is that a bear! faith then I'll engage I'll drop them to you for a tester a-dozen.' The gentleman admired his courage so much, that he went to Baltimore, bought off his time, and made him an overseer of his estate, which he filled with integrity; and after seventeen years, came home to his native country, left what he had saved to old Snouter's grand-children, and had his bones laid in the same grave with his old and loving master.
FINIS
