Whoo—­hurroo! my darlings—­success to the Findramore boys! 
Hurroo—­hurroo—­the Findramore boys for ever!”

“Boys, did ever ye hear the song Mat made on Ned Mullen’s fight wid
Jemmy Connor’s gander?  Well here is part of it, to the tune of ’Brian
O’Lynn’—­

     ’As Ned and the gander wor basting each other,
     I hard a loud cry from the gray goose, his mother;
     I ran to assist him, wid very great speed. 
     But before I arrived the poor gander did bleed.

     ‘Alas!’ says the gander, ’I’m very ill-trated,
     For traicherous Mullen has me fairly defated;
     Bud had you been here for to show me fair play,
     I could leather his puckan around the lee bray.’

“Bravo!  Matt,” addressing the insensible schoolmaster—­“success, poet.  Hurroo for the Findramore boys! the Bridge boys for ever!”

They then commenced, in a tone of mock gravity, to lecture him upon his future duties—­detailing the advantages of his situation, and the comforts he would enjoy among them—­although they might as well have addressed themselves to the stone on the other side.  In this manner they got along, amusing themselves at Mat’s expense, and highly elated at the success of their undertaking.  About three o’clock in the morning they reached the top of the little hill above the village, when, on looking back along the level stretch of road which I have already described, they noticed their companions, with Mat’s wife and children, moving briskly after them.  A general huzza now took place, which, in a few minutes, was answered by two or three dozen of the young folks, who were assembled in Barny Brady’s waiting for their arrival.  The scene now became quite animated—­cheer after cheer succeeded—­jokes, laughter, and rustic wit, pointed by the spirit of Brady’s poteen, flew briskly about.  When Mat was unsacked, several of them came up, and shaking him cordially by the hand, welcomed him among them.  To the kindness of this reception, however, Mat was wholly insensible, having been for the greater part of the journey in a profound sleep.  The boys now slipped the loop of the sack off the straddle-pin; and, carrying Mat into a farmer’s house, they deposited him in a settle-bed, where he slept unconscious of the journey he had performed, until breakfast-time on the next morning.  In the mean time, the wife and children were taken care of by Mrs. Connell, who provided them with a bed, and every other comfort which they could require.

The next morning, when Mat awoke, his first call was for a drink.  I should have here observed, that Mrs. Kavanagh had been sent for by the good woman in whose house Mat had slept, that they might all breakfast and have a drop together, for they had already succeeded in reconciling her to the change.  “Wather!” said Mat—­“a drink of wather, if it’s to be had for love or money, or I’ll split wid druth—­I’m all in a state of conflagration; and my head—­by the sowl of Newton, the inventor of fluxions, but my head is a complete illucidation of the centrifugal motion, so it is.  Tundher-an’-turf! is there no wather to be had?  Nancy, I say, for God’s sake, quicken yourself with the hydraulics, or the best mathematician in Ireland’s gone to the abode of Euclid and Pythagoras, that first invented the multiplication table.”