“Throth, I don’t care if I have a glass wid an ould friend.  But, I hope your whiskey won’t overtake me, Phadrick?”

“The never a fear of it, your father’s son has too good a head for that.  Ough! man alive, if you could stay for the weddin’!  Divil a sich a let out ever was seen in the county widin the mimory of the ouldest man in it, as it’ll be.  Denis is the boy that ’ud have the dacent thing or nothin’.”

The grazier and Phadrick Murray then bent their steps to Owen Connor’s house, where the wedding was held.  It is unnecessary to say that Phadrick plied his new acquaintance to some purpose.  Ere two hours passed the latter had forgotten his bullocks as completely as if he had never seen them, and his drovers were left to their own discretion in effecting their sale.  As for Andy Cahill, like many another sapient Irishman, he preferred his pleasure to his business, got drunk, and danced, and sung at Denis O’Shaughnessy’s wedding, which we are bound to say was the longest, the most hospitable, and most frolicsome that ever has been remembered in the parish from that day to the present.