It was not a school language, to acquire which was
considered an imperative duty; no, no; nor was it a drawing-room
language, drawled out occasionally, in shreds and patches by the ladies
of generals and other great dignitaries, to the ineffable dismay of poor
officers' wives. Nothing of the kind; but a speech spoken in out-of-the-
way desolate places, and in cut-throat kens, where thirty ruffians, at
the sight of the king's minions, would spring up with brandished sticks
and an 'ubbubboo, like the blowing up of a powder-magazine.' Such were
the points connected with the Irish, which first awakened in my mind the
desire of acquiring it; and by acquiring it I became, as I have already
said, enamoured of languages. Having learnt one by choice, I speedily,
as the reader will perceive, learnt others, some of which were widely
different from Irish.
* * * * *
I said: 'Now, Murtagh, tit for tat; ye will be telling me one of the old
stories of Finn-ma-Coul.' 'Och, Shorsha! I haven't heart enough,' said
Murtagh. 'Thank you for your tale, but it makes me weep; it brings to my
mind Dungarvon times of old--I mean the times we were at school
together.' 'Cheer up, man,' said I, 'and let's have the story, and let
it be about Ma-Coul and the salmon and his thumb.' 'Well, you know Ma-
Coul was an exposed child, and came floating over the salt sea in a chest
which was cast ashore at Veintry Bay. In the corner of that bay was a
castle, where dwelt a giant and his wife, very respectable and dacent
people, and this giant, taking his morning walk along the bay, came to
the place where the child had been cast ashore in his box.
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