At this moment Phil, who was determined to back the steward’s request, approached them.

“Paddy,” said the gentleman, anticipating him, “I have ordered you sacks and straw in the barn, and your breakfast in the morning before you set out.”

“Thrath,” said Phil, “if there’s e’er a stray blissin’ goin’, depind an it, sir, you’ll get it fwhor your hanerable ginerosity to the sthranger.  But about the ‘slip,’ sir—­if the misthress herself ’ud shake the whisp o’ sthraw fwhor her in the far carner o’ the kitchen below, an’ see her gettin’ her supper, the crathur, before she’d put her to bed, she’d be thrivin’ like a salmon, sir, in less than no time; and to ardher the sarwints, sir, if you plase, not to be defraudin’ the crathur of the big phaties.  Fwhor in regard it cannot spake fwhor itself, sir, it frets as wise as a Christyeen, when it’s not honestly thrated.”

“Never fear, Paddy; we shall take good care of it.”

“Thank you, sir, but I aften heered, sir, that you dunno how to feed pigs in this counthry in ardher to mix the fwhat an’ lane, lair (layer) about.”

“And how do you manage that in Ireland, Paddy?”

“Fwhy, sir, I’ll tell you how the misthress Gad bless her, will manage it fwhor you.  Take the crathur, sir, an’ feed it to-morrow, till its as full as a tick—­that’s for the fwhat, sir; thin let her give it nothin’ at all the next day, but keep it black fwhastin’—­that’s fwhor the lane (leap).  Let her stick to that, sir, keepin’ it atin’ one day an’ fastin’ an-odher, for six months, thin put a knife in it, an’ if you don’t have the fwhat an’ lane, lair about, beautiful all out, fwhy nirer bl’eve Phadrumshagh Corfuffle agin.  Ay, indeed!”

The Englishman looked keenly at Phil, but could only read in his countenance a thorough and implicit belief in his own recipe for mixing the fat and lean.  It is impossible to express his contempt for the sense and intellect of Phil; nothing could surpass it but the contempt which Phil entertained for him.

“Well,” said he to the servant, “I have often heard of the barbarous habits of the Irish, but I must say that the incidents of this evening have set my mind at rest upon the subject.  Good heavens! when will ever this besotted country rise in the scale of nations!  Did ever a human being hear of such a method of feeding swine!  I should have thought it incredible had I heard it from any but an Irishman!”

Phil then retired to the kitchen, where his assumed simplicity highly amused the servants, who, after an hour or two’s fun with “Paddy,” conducted him in a kind of contemptuous procession to the barn, where they left him to his repose.