PAT AND THE BEES.

Dunstan Times, Issue 1124, 16 November 1883, Page 4

PAT AND THE BEES.

'fhe following rich passage occurs in Charles Lover’s ‘ O’Donoghuo’; it remarkably lli ii«*v»ir.ps the relations subsiding between an improving land. Iceland an wulutoivd tenant. The agent- presents the tenants of the worthy innovator, who inquires into tlie condition of the grumbling and dissatisfied recipients of his favours. At length on a tenant presenting hnnself. whom the agent fail? to recognise, the baronet turns to the figure before him, which, with tace and head •swollen out of all proportions, awaits Ids address in snl.en silence. * Who a- e you, my good man ? What has happened to yon 1’ ‘ it’fdx, and it’s well ye may ash ! My own mother wouldn’t know me tltis blessid mornin’. ’ Tis all your ■own doin’ intoirely.’ ‘ My doing?’ replied the astonished baronet. ‘ What can 1 have to do with the state you are’ in, my good man V ‘ Yes, it is your doin’;’ answered the enraged proprietor of the swollen head ‘ Tis all your doing’, and well ye may be proud' of it. Twits them blesdii bees ye gov me. We .brought the divi(s into the house-lost night, an’ where did we put them, but in the pig’s corner. Well, after Katfcv and the chiider and myself was a while in bid, the pig goes rootin’ about the house, an’ he wasn’t aisy till he hooked his nose in the hive and spilt the bees •out about the flare; and then, when I got out of hid to let out the pig that was a-roarin’ through the house, and the bees sittled down on me, an’ began stingin’ me, and 1 jumped into bed agin’ with the whole of them after am, to Katty and the chiider; and thin, what wid the bees a buzzin’ and a-stingin’ ns under the clothes, out we all jumped again, and the devil such a night was ever spent in Ireland as we spent last night. "What wid Katty and the chiider a-roarin’ and a-bullin’, and the p;g titlin’ up and down like mad, and Katty wid the besom, and myself wid the frying-pan flattenin’ the bees again the wall till mornin’, and thin the si.Jit we wor in in the mornin’— begor, it’s ashamed of yourself ye ought to be.’