* Irish frieze is mostly manufactured at home, which
     accounts for the expression here.

“Thunder-an-ages, what’s this for, at all, at all!  I wish I hadn’t begun to manuscript an account of it, any how; ’tis like a hungry man dreaming of a good dinner at a feast, and afterwards awaking and finding his front ribs and back-bone on the point of union.  Reader, is that a black-thorn you carry—­tut, where is my imagination bound for?——­to meet the other, I say.

“’Where’s the rascally O’Callaghan that will place his toe or his shillely on this frieze?’ ’Is there no blackguard O’Hallaghan jist to look crucked at the coat of an O’Callaghan, or say black’s the white of his eye?’

“‘Troth and there is, Ned, avourneen, that same on the sod here.’

“‘Is that Barney?’

“‘The same, Ned, ma bouchal; and how is your mother’s son, Ned?’

“’In good health at the present time, thank God and you; how is yourself, Barney?’

“’Can’t complain as time goes; only take this, any how, to mend your health, ma bouchal.’ (Whack.)

“’Success, Barney, and here’s at your sarvice, avick, not making little of what I got, any way.’ (Crack.)

“About five o’clock on a May evening, in the fair of Knockimdowny, was the ice thus broken, with all possible civility, by Ned and Barney.  The next moment a general rush took place towards the scene of action, and ere you could bless yourself, Barney and Ned were both down, weltering in their own and each other’s blood.  I scarcely know, indeed, though with a mighty respectable quota of experimentality myself, how to describe what followed.  For the first twenty minutes the general harmony of this fine row might be set to music, according to a scale something like this:—­Whick whack—­crick crack—­whick whack—­crick crack—­&c, &c, &o.  ’Here yer sowl—­(crack)—­there yer sowl—­(whack).  Whoo for the O’Hallag-hans!’—­(crack, crack, crack).  ’Hurroo for the O’Callaghans!—­(whack, whack, whack).  The O’Callaghans for ever!’—­(whack).  ’The O’Hallaghans for ever!’—­(crack).  ’Mur-ther! murther!—­(crick, crack)—­foul! foul!—­(whack, whack).  Blood and turf!—­(whack, whick)—­tunther-an-ouns’—­(crack, crick).  ’Hurroo! my darlings! handle your kip-peens—­(crack, crack)—­the O’Hallaghans are going!’—­(whack, whack).

“You are to suppose them, here to have been at it for about half an hour.

“Whack, crack—­’oh—­oh—­oh! have mercy upon me, boys—­(crack—­a shriek of murther! murther—­crack, crack, whack)—­my life—­my life—­(crack, crack—­whack, whack)—­oh! for the sake of the living Father!—­for the sake of my wife and childher, Ned Hallaghan, spare my life.’

“’So we will, but take this, any how’—­(whack, crack, whack, crack).

“’Oh! for the love of.  God, don’t kill—­(whack, crack, whack).  Oh!’—­(crack, crack, whack—­dies).

“‘Huzza! huzza! huzza!’ from the O’Hallaghans.  ’Bravo, boys! there’s one of them done for:  whoo! my darlings! hurroo! the O’Hallaghans for ever!’