For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin’s parade in the city of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter called the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E. Geraghty, esquire, of 29 Arbour hill in the city of Dublin, Arran quay ward, gentleman, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed crystal, at threepence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to said vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence sterling:  and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the sole and exclusive property of the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser to the said vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part.

—­Are you a strict t.t.? says Joe.

—­Not taking anything between drinks, says I.

—­What about paying our respects to our friend? says Joe.

—­Who? says I. Sure, he’s out in John of God’s off his head, poor man.

—­Drinking his own stuff? says Joe.

—­Ay, says I. Whisky and water on the brain.

—­Come around to Barney Kiernan’s, says Joe.  I want to see the citizen.

—­Barney mavourneen’s be it, says I. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe?

—­Not a word, says Joe.  I was up at that meeting in the City Arms.

—–­What was that, Joe? says I.

—­Cattle traders, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease.  I want to give the citizen the hard word about it.

So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the courthouse talking of one thing or another.  Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.  Jesus, I couldn’t get over that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber.  For trading without a licence, says he.

In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of holy Michan.  There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar.  There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown.  A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated.  In the mild breezes of the west and of the east the