. . .larney ye, and git away wid the ould story of both ye’r mothers being Roscommon women.”

“I wish the Lord would send in a dacent customer, any how, that could pay his way,” said a second charlie: “if iver I was drier in my life!”

“Feaks!” observed the third, “and it’s myself that has got a cobweb in my throat. But, whisht! boys—look out there! Who knows our luck yet?”

Up jumped one of the smokers, and craning his head over the hatch, communicated the gratifying intelligence that the patrol were coming up with divers delinquents in close custody. The charlies pocketed their pipes, Mr. Bradley mounted his spectacles, while the shuffling of feet, and an uproar of many voices talking and arguing at their highest pitch, joined to the maudlin singing of a noisy drunkard, announced. . . Read More