the conflict was conducted on the part of the Irish pigs with a fertility of expediency that did credit to their country, and established for those who displayed it, the possession of intellect far superior to that of their opponents.  The pigs now began to direct their course towards the sties in which they had been so well fed the night before.  This being their last flight they radiated towards one common centre, with a fierceness and celerity that occasioned the woman and children to take shelter within doors.  On arriving at the sties, the ease with which they shot themselves over the four-feet walls was incredible.  The farmer had caught the alarm, and just came out in time to witness their return; he stood with his hands driven down into the pockets of his red, capacious waistcoat, and uttered not a word.  When the last of them came bounding into the sty, Hodge approached, quite breathless and exhausted: 

“Oh, measter,” he exclaimed, “these be not Hirish pigs at oll, they be Hirish devils; and yau mun ha’ bought ’em fra a cunning mon!”

[Illustration:  Page 911—­ These be not Hirish pigs at oll]

“Hodge,” replied his master, “I’se be bit—­I’se heard feather talk about un.  That breed’s true Hirish:  but I’se try and sell ’em to Squoire Jolly to hunt wi’ as beagles, for he wants a pack.  They do say all the swoine that the deevils were put into ha’ been drawn; but for my peart, I’se sure that some on un must ha’ escaped to Hireland.”

Phil during the commotion excited by his knavery in Yorkshire, was traversing the country, in order to dispose of his remaining pig; and the manner in which he effected his first sale of it was as follows: 

A gentleman was one evening standing with some laborers by the wayside when a tattered Irishman, equipped in a pair of white dusty brogues, stockings without feet, old patched breeches, a bag slung across his shoulder, his coarse shirt lying open about a neck tanned by the sun into a reddish yellow, a hat nearly the color of the shoes, and a hay rope tied for comfort about his waist; in one hand he also held a straw rope, that depended from the hind leg of a pig which he drove before him; in the other was a cudgel, by the assistance of which he contrived to limp on after it, his two shoulder-blades rising and falling alternately with a shrugging motion that indicated great fatigue.

When he came opposite where the gentleman stood he checked the pig, which instinctively commenced feeding upon the grass by the edge of the road.

“Och,” said he, wiping his brow with the cuff of his coat, “mavrone orth a muck,* but I’m kilt wit you.  Musha, Gad bless yer haner, an’ maybe ye’d buy a slip of a pig fwhrom me, that has my heart bruck, so she has, if ever any body’s heart was bruck wit the likes of her; an’ sure so there was, no doubt, or I wouldn’t be as I am wid her.  I’ll give her a dead bargain, sir; for it’s only to get her aff av my hands I’m wanting plase yer haner—­husth amuck—­husth, a veehone!** Be asy, an’ me in conwersation wid his haner here!”