* That frank, cordial manner of address which brings
     strangers suddenly to intimacy.

“‘And may worse never happen you, Jack, my bouchal,’ says the dog, putting in his tongue, then wagging his tail, and houlding out his paw to shake hands with Jack.

“‘Gintlemen,’ says Jack, never minding to give the dog his hand, bekase he heard it wasn’t safe to touch the likes of him—­’Gintlemen,’ says he, ‘ye’re sitting far from the fire this frosty night.’

“‘Why, that’s true, Jack,’ answers the ould fellow; ’but if we’re sitting far from the fire, we’re sitting very near the makins of it, man alive.’  So, with this, he pulls the bag of goold over to him, that Jack might know, by the jingle of the shiners, what was in it.

“‘Jack,’ says dark-face, ’there’s some born with a silver ladle in their mouth, and others with a wooden spoon; and if you’ll just sit down on the one end of this clamp with me, and take a hand at the five and ten,’ pulling out, as he spoke, a deck of cards, ’you may be a made man for the remainder of your life.’

“‘Sir,’ says Jack, ’with submission, both yourself and this cur—­I mane,’ says he, not wishing to give the dog offence, ’both yourself and this dacint gintleman with the tail and claws upon him, have the advantage of me, in respect of knowing my name; for, if I don’t mistake,’ says he, putting his hand to his caubeen, ’I never had the pleasure of seeing either of ye before.’

“‘Never mind that,’ says the dog, taking back the pipe from the other, and clapping it in his mouth; ’we’re both your well-wishers, anyhow, and it’s now your own fault if you’re not a rich man.’

“Jack, by this time, was beginning to think that they might be afther wishing to throw luck in his way; for he had often heard of men being made up entirely by the fairies, till there was no end to their wealth.

“‘Jack,’ says the black man, ’you had better be led by us for this bout—­upon the honor of a gintleman we wish you well:  however, if you don’t choose to take the ball at the right hop, another may; and you’re welcome to toil all your life, and die a beggar after.’

“‘Upon my reputation, what he says is true, Jack,’ says the dog, in his turn, ’the lucky minute of your life is come:  let it pass without doing what them that wishes your mother’s son well desire you, and you’ll die in a ditch.’

“‘And what am I to do,’ says Jack, ’that’s to make me so rich all of a sudden?’

“’Why only to sit down, and take a game of cards with myself says black-brow, ‘that’s all, and I’m sure its not much.’

“‘And what is it to be for?’ Jack inquires; ’for I have no money—­tare-nation to the rap itself’s in my company.’

“‘Well, you have yourself,’ says the dog, putting up his fore-claw along his nose, and winking at Jack; ’you have yourself, man—­don’t be faint-hearted:  he’ll bet the contents of this bag;’ and with that the ould thief gave it another great big shake, to make the guineas jingle again.  ’It’s ten thousand guineas in hard goold; if he wins, you’re to sarve him for a year and a day; and if he loses, you’re to have the bag.’