Well，mydear，itwasaisyseentherewassomethingwrongavidBillyMalowney，forhepaidnoattintiontherestoftheeveningtoanysoartofdivarsionbutthewhiskyalone；an’everyglasshe’ddrinkit’swhathe’dbewishingthedivilhadthewomen，an’theworstivbadlucktoallsoartsivcourting，until，atlast，widthegoodnessivthesperits，an’thebadnessivhistemper，an’theconstantflusthrationivcursin’，hegrewallasoneasyoumightsayalmost，savingyourpresince，bastelydrunk!
Well，whoshouldhefallinwid，inthatchildishcondition，ashewasdeployingalongtheroadalmostasstraightastheletterS，an’cursin’thegirls，an’roarin’formorewhisky，buttherecruiting-sargentivtheWelshConfusileers。
So，cuteenough，thesargentbeginstoconvarsehim，an’itwasnotlonguntilhehadhimsittinginMurphy’spublic-house，widanelegantdandyivpunchbeforehim，an’theking’smoneysafean’snuginthelowestwrinkleofhisbreeches-pocket。
Soawaywidhim，andthedhrumsandfifesplaying，an’adozenmoreunforthunatebliggardsjustlistedalongwithhim，an’
heshakin’handswidthesargent，andswearin’aginthewomeneveryminute，until，bethetimehekemtohimself，begorra，hewasagoodtenmilesontheroadtoDublin，an’Mollyandallbehindhim。