“It was one night in winter, when all nature shone in the nocturnal beauty of tenebrosity:  the sun had set about three hours before; an’, accordin’ to the best logicians, there was a dearth of light.  It’s the general opinion of philosophers—­that is, of the soundest o’ them—­that when the sun is down the moon an’ stars are usually up; an’ so they were on the night that I’m narratin’ about.  The moon was, wid great respect to her character, night-walkin’ in the sky; and the stars vegetated in celestial genuflexion around her.  Nature, Phadrick, was in great state; the earth was undher our feet, an’ the sky above us.  The frost, too, was hard, Phadrick, the air keen, an’ the grass tendher.  All things were enrobed wid verisimilitude an’ scrupulosity.  In this manner was the terraqueous part of our system, when Parra Ghastha’s mare, after havin’ taken a cowld collation on Barny Branagan’s grass, was returnin’ to her master’s side o’ the merin; an’ Barny Branagan’s goats, havin’ tasted the sweets of Parra Ghastha’s cabbages, were on their way acrass the said merin to their own side.  Now it so happened that they met exactly at a narrow gap in the ditch behind Rosha Halpin’s house.  The goats, bein’ coupled together, got one on each side of the rift, wid the rope that coupled them extended acrass it.  The mare stood in the middle of it, so that the goats were in the way of the mare, an’ the mare in the way of the goats.  In the meantime they surveyed one another wid great composure, but had neither of them the politeness to stir, until Rosha Halpin came suddenly out, an’ emptied a vessel of untransparent wather into the ditch.  The mare, who must have been an animal endowed wid great sensibility of soul, stooped her head suddenly at the noise; an’ the goats, who were equally sentimental, gave a start from nervishness.  The mare, on raisin’ her head, came in contact wid the cord that united the goats; an’ the goats, havin’ lost their commandin’ position, came in contact wid the neck o’ the mare. Quid multis? They pulled an’ she pulled, an’ she pulled an’ they pulled, until at length the mare was compelled to practise the virtue of resignation in the ditch, wid the goats about her neck.  She died by suspinsion; but the mettlesome ould crathur, wid a love of justice that did her honor, hanged the goat’s in requital; for they departed this vale of tears on the mountain side along wid her, so that they had the satisfaction of dyin’ a social death together.—­Now, Phadrick, you quadruped, the case of conscience is, whether Parra Ghastha has a right to make restitution to Barny Branagan for the loss of his goats, or Barny Branagan to Parra Ghastha for the loss of his mare?”

“Bedad, that’s a puzzler!”

“Isn’t it, Phadrick?  But wait till you hear how he’ll clear it up!  Do it for Phadrick, Dinny.”