a thousand welcomes,—­take it, agrah, from poor Pat.”  I took it with infinite delight; and holding it in my claws, and peeling it with my beak, began to mutter “Poor Pat! poor Pat!” “Oh, musha, musha! oh, by the powers!” He cried, “but that’s a great bird, any how—­just like a Christian—­look here, boys.”  A crowd now gathered round my cage, and several exclamations, which recalled my old friends of the Propaganda, caught my attention.  “Oh! queen of glory!” cried one; “Holy Moses!” exclaimed another; “Blessed rosary!” said a third.  I turned my head from side to side, listening; and excited by the excitement I caused, I recited several scraps of litanies in good Latinity,—­There was first an universal silence, then an universal shout, and a general cry of “A miracle! a miracle!” “Go to Father Murphy,” said one; “Off with ye, ye sowl, to the Counsellor,” said a second; “Bring the baccah to him,” cried an old woman; “Mrs. Carey, where is your blind son?” said a young one.  Could faith have sufficed, I should indeed have worked miracles.  In the midst of my triumphs, Mr. O’Gallagher returned, carried me off, put me in a carriage, and drove away, followed by the shouting multitude.—­That night we put up at an hotel in Sackville-street, and the next morning the street re-echoed with cries of “Here is a full account of the miraculous parrot just arrived in the city of Dublin, with a list of his wonderful cures, for the small charge of one halfpenny.”  Shortly after we set off by the Ballydangan heavy fly, for Sourcraut Hall.  I was placed on the top of the coach, to the delight of the outside passengers; where I soon made an acquaintance with the customary oratory of guards and coachmen, which produced much laughter.  I rapidly added to my vocabulary many curious phrases, among which the most distinct were—­“Aisy, now, aisy,” “Get along out of that,” “All’s right,” &c. &c. &c. with nearly a verse of “The night before Larry was stretched,” tune and all, and the air of “Polly put the kettle on,” which the guard was practising on his bugle, to relieve the tedium of the journey.  Like all nervous animals, I am extremely susceptible to external impressions; and the fresh air, movement, and company, had all their usual exhilarating effects on my spirits.  Our lady of Sourcraut Hall, Lady C——­, received myself and my protector with a ceremonious and freezing politeness; asked a few questions concerning my treatment, gentleness, and docility; and desiring my kind companion to put me on the back of a chair, she bowed him out of the room.  When he was gone, the lady turned to a gloomy-looking man, who sat reading at a table, and who looked so like one of the Portuguese brothers of the Propaganda, that I took him for a frate—­“What a poor benighted creature that young man seems to be!” she said.  The grave gentleman, who I afterwards found was known in the neighbourhood by the title of her ladyship’s “moral agent,” replied, “What, madam, would you have of an O’Gallagher—­a family of the blackest Papists in the county?” My lady shook her head, and threw up her devout eyes.—­Dinner was now announced, and the moral agent giving his hand to the lady, I was left to sleep away the fatigue of my journey.