Síle. A Ṫiarcais! a Ṗeg, baḋ ḋóiġ liom, dá ḃfeicinn é, go dtuitfeaḋ an t‑anam tur te asam.[1]
Cáit. Cad é an ṁaiṫ ḋuit ḃeiṫ ag caint mar sin? Ná dúḃairt sé ná feudfaḋ aon-ne’ é ḟeiscint aċt Seaḋna féin?
Síle. Á! a Ċáit, a ġráiḋ ḋil,[2] ca ḃfios duit an raiḃ sé ag innsint na fírinne? Ní ċreidfinn focal ó ’n rógaire.
Cáit. Naċ maiṫ a ṫug sé an t‑airgead do Ṡeaḋna?
Gob. Ca ḃfios duit ar ḃ’ airgead é? D’airiġeas duine dá ráḋ go raiḃ sean Ṁiċeál Réamoinn lá i dtiġ taḃairne, i Sráid an Ṁuilinn, ⁊ go raiḃ a dó ⁊ dá ṫistiún ag bean an taḃairne air, ⁊ go raiḃ sí ag coiméad a hata i ngeall leis an airgead. Do ċuaiḋ Miċeál amaċ sa’ ċlós, ⁊ do ṗioc sé suas a ceaṫair nó a cúig de licíníḋiḃ slinne, ⁊ tar éis diaḃlaiḋeaċt’ éigin do ḋeunaṁ orṫa, ṫug sé ċúice isteaċ iad, ⁊ nuair ḋ’ḟéaċ sí orṫa, ċeap sí gur ḃ’ airgead dleaġṫaċ iad, ⁊ ṫug sí an hata ḋo. Deirtí gur ḟoġluim Miċeál “fraoimésean” ó ’n Ridire, ⁊ go ḃféadfaḋ sé gaḃar do ḋeunaṁ ḋíot, aċt dá n‑aisdreoċaḋ an ġaoṫ ⁊ tu ad’ ġaḃar, ná feudfaḋ sé ṫu ċasaḋ ṫar n‑ais.
Séamus ua Buaċalla. Bail ó Ḋia oraiḃ ann‑so!
Peg. Ó, Dia ’s Muire ḋuit, a Ṡéamuis. Do ḋeirḃṡiúr atá uait, is dóċa.
Séamus. Dúḃraḋ léi teaċt a ḃaile láiṫreaċ. Ṫáinig Nell.
Cáit. Airiú greadaḋ ċugat![3] a Ṡéamuis. Ca ṡoin?
Séamus. Ó ċianaiḃ beag.[4]
Cáit. Go dtugaiḋ Dia oiḋċe ṁaiṫ ḋuit, a Ṗeg, ⁊ díḃ go léir.
Peg. Go dtéiḋir slán, a Ċáit!
Cáit. Ní ’neosair a ṫuilleaḋ anoċt, a Ṗeg?
Peg. Tá go maiṫ, a Ċáit.
(Leanfar de seo.)
TRANSLATION—(Continued).
Seadhna was content. “Thirteen years!” said he in his own mind, “and leave to draw out of it as hard as I can. He put the virtue of the Holy Things on me, but I pledge you every oath and vow, little purse, that there will be music taken out of you! Good bye to you,” said he to the black man.
He turned on his heel to come home, and if he did, on comes the black man beside him. He quickened his pace. The other quickened his pace as well. “What shall I do?” said Seadhna in his own mind. “The neighbours will see him.”
“Don’t be uneasy,” said the black man. “No person will see me but yourself. I must convev you home and acquire the knowledge of the way, and get a look at that soogaun chair of yours, and at the malivogue, and at the apples.”
“Confound them! for a chair, and for a malivogue, and for an apple-tree. Beautiful are the three things that were spoiled on me to‑day on their account,” said Seadhna.”
“That is not the worst end of the story,” said the black man.” But if a neighbour comes in, and that he sits in the chair, you will have to give him house-room free from rent, because it will not be in your power to put him out and you having him clung in the chair.”
“Good gracious me! What shall I do if there are three people clung at home before me now ?” said Seadhna.” Perhaps, sir, you would be able to release them. Come along! You are welcome a thousand times!”
“Patience! patience! Seadhna,” said the black man. “There is no one clung yet. You were churlish a while ago, and now ‘I am welcome a thousand times.’ Ah! Seadhna, that is the welcome for your own good.”
“Why! ’Tis how the case stands, sir,” said Seadhna, and he looked down at the hoof and up at the horns.
“Oh! I understand," said the black man. “You don’t like the make of this shoe, nor the sort of ornamentation on that is my head. Don’t mind that. When you get used to them you will find no fault at all with them.”
“Why then indeed, and indeed now, sir,’ said Seadhna, “it is not to them I was (at all). But if the neighbours were to see you they would become terrified, and mischief would be done perhaps.” “Above all you ever saw! Am I not after saying to you that there is no danger any person will see me but yourself?” said the black man. “Very well,” said Seadhna. “Come along.”
Sheila. Oh, law! I should think that if I were to see him, the life would drop dry (and) hot out of me.
Kate. What good is it for you to be talking that way? Did he not say that no one could see him but Seadhna himself?
Sheila. Ah Kate, my darling! How do you know was he telling the truth? I would not believe a word from the rogue.
Kate. Is it not well he gave the money to Seadhna?
Gob. How do know was it money (at all)? I heard a person saying that old Mick Redmond was one day in a public-house in Mill-street, and that the landlady had (a claim of) two-and-eightpence on him, and that she was keeping his hat in pledge for the money. Mick went out into the yard and picked up four or five little slate flags, and, after doing some witchcraft on them, he brought them into her, and when she looked at them she considered that they were lawful money, and she gave him the hat. It used to be said that Mick learned “Freemashun” from the Ridire, and that he could make a goat
