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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 594 pages of information about Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent.
you said this day; but as his sarvint, and gettin’ bread through him, and undher him, I can’t, nor I won’t, suffer his honor to be backbitten before his own face—­for it’s next to that.  Now,’ says I, ’be guided by me, and all will be right.  In the first place, you know, he’s entitled to duty-fowl*—­in the next place, he’s entitled to duty-work.’  ‘Ay, the landlord is,’ said they, ‘but not the Vul——­’ ‘Whisht,’ says I, in a friendly whisper, puttin’ my hand across Dan’s mouth, an’ winkin’ both my eyes at him; ’send his honor down a pair of them fine fat turkeys—­I know his honor’s fond o’ them; but that’s not all,’ says I—­’do you wish to have a friend in coort?  I know you do.  Well and good—­he’s drawing gravel to make a new avenue early next week, so, Sheemus O’Shaughran, if you wish to have two friends in coort—­a great one and a little one’—­manin’ myself, God pardon me, for the little one, your honor—­’you will,’ says I ’early on next Monday mornin’, send down a pair of horses and carts, and give him a week’s duty work.  Then,’ says I, ’lave the rest to somebody, for I won’t name names.’—­No, your honor, I did’nt bring Hanlon in.—­By the same token, as a proof of it, there’s young Bandy Shaughran, the son, wid a turkey under aich arm, comin’up to the hall door.”

     * These were iniquitous exactions, racked from the poor
     tenantry by the old landlords or their agents.

“Well,” proceeded M’Clutchy, without a single observation, “did you call on the Slevins?”

“Yes, sir; they’re ready.”

“The Magonnels?”

“Not ready, sir; but a pair of geese, and two men on next Thursday and Saturday.  On Friday they must go to market to buy two slips.” (* young pigs).

“Widow Gaffney?”

“Not ready, sir; but that I may never die in sin, a ’cute shaver.”

“Why so—­what did she say?”

“Oh, Mr. Hickman, sir, the head agent, your honor; that’s the go.  Throth, the same Mr. Hickman is—­but, God forbid, sir, I’d spake a word against the absent; but any way, he’s a good round thrifle, one way or the other, out of your pocket, from Jinny-warry to December.”

“Darby, my good man, and most impertinent scoundrel, if you wish to retain your present situation, never open your lips against that excellent gentleman, Mr. Hickman.  Mark my words—­out you go, if I ever discover that you mention him with disrespect.”

“Well, I won’t then; and God forgive me for spakin’ the truth—­when it’s not right.”

“Did you see the Mulhollands?”

“Mr. Hickman again, sir, an’ bad luck to——­ Beg pardon, sir, I forgot.  Throth, sir, when I mentioned the duty work an’ the new aveny, they whistled at you.”

“Whistled at me!”

“Yes, sir; an’ said that Mr. Hickman tould them to give you neither duty fowl nor duty work, but to do their own business, and let you do yours.  Ay, and ’twas the same from all the rest.”

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