I’m tellin’ of, his name was Callaghan; he was a dark-haired I’ll-lookin’ fellow, with a squint and a stutther; but for all that, he had a daicent, quiet, well-behaved family that offended nobody—­not like our proud horsewhippin’ neighbors; an’, indeed, his daughters did not mount their side-saddles like some of the same neighbors, but sure we all know the ould proverb, set a beggar on horseback, and we needn’t tell you where he’ll ride to.  Well, I’m forgettin’ my story in the mane time.  At that time, a party of about sixty of us made up our minds to pay Callaghan a nightly visit.  The man, you see, made no distinction betune the rich and poor, or rather he made every distinction, for he was all bows and scrapes to the rich, and all whip and fagot to the poor.  Ah, he was a sore blisther to that part of the counthry he lived in, and many a widow’s an’ orphan’s curse he had.  At any rate, to make a long story short, we went a set of us, a few nights afore we called upon him—­that is, in a friendly way, for we had no intention of takin’ his life, but merely to tickle him into good humor a bit, and to make him have a little feelin’ for the poor, that he many a time tickled an’ got tickled by the sogar’s bagnet to some purpose; we went, I say, to a lonely place, and we dug sich a grave as we thought might fit him, and havin’ buttoned and lined it well with thorns, we then left it covered over with scraws for fraid anybody might find it out.  So far so good.  At last the appointed night came, and we called upon him.

“‘Is Mr. Callaghan in?’ said one of us, knockin’ at the door.

“‘What’s your business wid him?’ said a servant girl, as she opened the door.

“‘Tis to pay some tithe I want,’ says the man; and no sooner was the word out of his mouth than in we boulted betther than a score of us; for the rest all stayed about the place to act accordin’ to circumstances.

“‘How do you do, Misther Callaghan?’ says our captain, ’I hope you’re well, sir,’ says he, ‘and in good health.’”

“’I can’t say I am, sir,” said Callaghan, ’I haven’t been to say at all well for the last few days, wid a pain down my back.’

“‘Ah, indeed no wondher, Mr. Callaghan,’ says the other; ’that’s the curse of the widows and orphans, and the poor in general, that you have oppressed in ordher to keep up a fat an’ greedy establishment,’ says he, ’but in the mane time, keep a good heart—­we’re friends of yours, and wishes you well; and if the curses have come down hot and heavy on your back, we’ll take them off it,’ says he, ’so aisily and purtily, that if you’ll only shut your eyes, you’ll think yourself in another world—­I mane of coorse the world you’ll go to,’ says he;—­’we have got a few nice and aisy machines here, for ticklin’ sich procthors, in ordher to laugh them into health again, and we’ll now set you to rights’ at wanst.  Comes, boys,’ says he, turnin’ to us, ’tie every sowl in the house, barrin’ the poor sick procthor that we all feel for, bekaise you see, Misther Callaghan, in ordher to do the thing complate, we intind to have your own family spectawthers of the cure.’