“I would be glad to know,” he inquired, “by what beautiful invintion a man could contrive to strike another in his absence?  Have you good grammar for that?”

“And did you never hear of detraction?” replied his opponent; “that is, a man who’s in the habit of spaking falsehoods of his friends whin their backs are turned—­that is to say, whin they are absent.  Now, sure, if a man’s absent whin his back’s turned, mayn’t any man whose back’s turned be said to be absent—­ergo, to strike a man behind his back is to strike him whin he’s absent.  Does that confound you? where’s your logic and grammar to meet proper ratiocination like what I’m displaying?”

“Faith,” replied the other, “you may have had logic and grammar, but I’ll take my oath it was in your younger years, for both have been absent ever since I knew you:  they turned their backs upon you, man alive; for they didn’t like, you see, to be keepin’ bad company—­ha, ha, ha!”

“Why, you poor crathur,” said his antagonist, “if I’d choose to let myself out, I could make a hare of you in no time entirely.”

“And an ass of yourself,” retorted the other:  “but you may save yourself the throuble in regard of the last, for your frinds know you to be an ass ever since they remimber you.  You have them here, man alive, the auricles,” and he pointed to his ears.

“Hut! get out wid you, you poor Jamaica-headed castigator, you; sure you never had more nor a thimbleful o’ sinse on any subject.”

“Faith, an’ the thimble that measured yours was a tailor’s, one widout a bottom in it, an’ good measure you got, you miserable flagellator! what are you but a nux vomica? A fit of the ague’s a thrifle compared to your asinity.”

The “boys” were delighted at this encounter, and utterly forgetful of the pacific occasion on which they had assembled, began to pit them against each other with great glee.

“That’s a hard hit, Misther Costigan; but you won’t let it pass, any how.”

“The ague an’ you are ould acquaintances,” retorted Costigan; “whenever a skrimmage takes place, you’re sure to resave a visit from it.”

“Why, I’m not such a hare as yourself,” replied his rival, “nor such a great hand at batin’ the absent—­ha, ha, ha!”

“Bravo, Misther Connell—­that’s a leveller; come, Misther Costigan, bedad, if you don’t answer that you’re bate.”

“By this and by that, man alive, if you don’t mend your manners, maybe I’d make it betther for you to be absent also.  You’ll only put me to the throuble of men din’ them for you.”

“Mend my manners!” exclaimed his opponent, with a bitter sneer,—­“you to mend them! out wid your budget and your hammer, then; you’re the very tinker of good manners—­bekase for one dacency you’d mend, you’d spoil twenty.”

“I’m able to hammer you at all events, or, for that matther, any one of your illiterate gineration.  Sure it’s well known that you can’t tach Voshther (Voster) widout the Kay.”