“He, then, up with his arm, and came down—­why, you would think that the stroke he gave the Slip had druv his right hand into his body:  but, any way, it’s he that took full satisfaction for what his cousin got; for if the Slip’s fingers had been cut off at the tops, the blood couldn’t spring out from under his nails more nor it did.  After this the Slip couldn’t strike another blow, bekase his hand was disabled out and out.

“The next play they went to was the Sitting Brogue.  This is played by a ring of them sitting down upon the bare ground, keeping their knees up.  A shoemaker’s leather apron is then got, or a good stout brogue, and sent round under their knees.  In the mane time one stands in the middle; and after the brogue is sent round, he is to catch it as soon as he can.  While he stands there, of course, his back must be to some one, and accordingly those that are behind him thump him right and left with the brogue, while he, all the time, is striving to catch it.  Whoever he catches this brogue with must stand up in his place, while he sits down where the other had been, and then the play goes on as before.

“There’s another play called the Standing Brogue—­where one man gets a brogue of the same kind, and another stands up facing him with his hands locked together, forming an arch turned upside down.  The man that houlds the brogue then strikes him with it betune the hands; and even the smartest fellow receives several pelts before he is able to close his hands and catch it; but when he does, he becomes brogueman, and the man who held the brogue stands for him, until he catches it.  The same thing is gone through, from one, to another, on each side, until it is over.

“The next is Frimsy Framty, and is played in this manner:—­A chair or stool is placed in the middle of the flure, and the man who manages the play sits down upon it, and calls his sweetheart, or the prettiest girl in the house.  She, accordingly, comes forward, and must kiss him.  He then rises up, and she sits down.  ‘Come, now,’ he says, ’fair maid—­Frimsy framsy, who’s your fancy?’ She then calls them she likes best, and when the young man she calls comes over and kisses her, he then takes her place, and calls another girl—­and so on, smacking away for a couple of hours.  Well, throth, it’s no wonder that Ireland’s full of people; for I believe they do nothing but coort from the time they’re the hoith of my leg.  I dunno is it true, as I hear Captain Sloethern’s steward say, that the Englishwomen are so fond of Irishmen?”

“To be sure it is,” said Shane Fadh; “don’t I remimber myself, when Mr. Fowler went to England—­and he as fine looking a young-man, at the time, as ever got into a saddle—­he was riding up the street of London, one day, and his servant after him—­and by the same token he was a thousand pound worse than nothing; but no matter for that, you see luck was before him—­what do you think, but a rich dressed livery servant came out, and stopping the Squire’s man, axed whose servant he was?