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Now the grandest ould pazon, I'll be bail,
That ever was, was ould Pazon Gale.
Aw, of all the kind and the good and the true !
And the aisy and free, and—“ How do you do?
And how's your mother, Tom, and—the fishin ? "
Spakin that nice, and allis wishin
Good luck to the boats, and—“How's the take?”
And blessin us there for Jesus' sake.
And many a time he'd come out and try
A line, and the keen he was, and the spry!
And he'd sit in the stern, and he'd tuck his tails,
And well he knew how to handle the sails.
And sometimes, if we were smookin, he'd ax
For a pipe, and then we'd be turnin our backs,
Lettin on never to see him, and lookin
This way and that way, and him a smookin
Twis' as strong and as black as tar,
And terrible sollum and regular.
Bless me! the sperrit that was in him too,
Houldin on till all was blue !
And only a little man, but staunch,
With a main big heart aback of his paunch!
Just a little round man—but you should ha' seen him agate
Of a good-sized conger or a skate :
His arms as stiff, and his eye afire,
And every muscle of him like wire.

But avast this talk! What! what did you say?
Tell us more about the Pazon-eh?
Well, well! he was a pazon-yis !
But there's odds of pazons, that's the way it is.
For there's pazons now that's mortal proud,

And some middlin humble, that's allowed.
No. 163.-TOL. XXVIII.

And there's pazons partikler about their clothes,
And rings on their fingers, and bells on their tocs :
And there's pazons that doesn know your names,
“ Shut the gate, my man !” and all them games,
And there's pazons too free-I've heard one cuss
As hard and as hearty as one of us.
But Pazon Gale—now I'll give you his size,
He was a simple pazon, and lovin and wise.
That's what he was, and quiet uncommon,
And never said much to man nor woman;
Only the little he said was meat
For a hungry heart, and soft and sweet,
The way he said it: and often talkin
To hisself, and lookin down, and walkin.
Now there's some of them pazons they're allis shoutin,
And tearin at you, and ravin and routin,
And they gets you pinned with a lot of others
In a coop, and they calls you sisthers and brothers;
And you can't get out, so the beggars raises
Their vice, and gives it you like blazes.
What's the good of all that surt!
Sweatin and actin and bustin their shirt;
Shiverin the verry roof to splanthers-
[ never liked them roarin ranthers.
Yes! our pazon was quite, but, mind ye! don't doubt
But the same man knew well what was he about.
Aye, many a time I've seen his face
All slushed with tears, and him tellin of grace
And mercy and that, and his vice so low,
But trimblin-aw, we liked him though!

And he wasn livin above the bay Where I was livin, but a bit away, Over the next, and betwix the two The land ran out to a point, and a screw Of the tide set in on the rocks, and there He'd stand in the mornin, and listen to hear The dip of our oars comin out, and the jealous We were of the Derbyhaven fellows ! And the way we'd pull to try which would be fuss! And “ Pazon !" we'd say, "are you comin with us?” And the Derbyhaven chaps would callAnd the way he'd smile and say nothing at all ! Well, that's the Pazon, you'll understand, Aye, the very man, the very man. Aw, if I once get agate of himBut some night again, if I'll be in the trim, I'll maybe be tellin you more, if so be You'll be carin to listen, and all agree.

Well, the Pazon was walkin on the gravelMy conscience! the slow that man did travel ! Backwards and forrards, and stoppin and thinkin, And a talkin away to hisself like winkin ;

And a pickin a flower, or a kickin a stone,
There he was anyway all alone.
And I felt like a reg'lar blund'rin blockit,
And I stowed the quid in my waistcoat pocket,
And I said, “Here goes! I don't care a fardin,"
And I opened the gate, and into the garden.
And—“ Pazon !” I says, “ I've come to you."
"Is it true, Tom Baynes ?” he says, “is it true? "
And he looked-“ No, it isn?” I said, quite pale ;
“So you needn look that way, Pazon Gale!
It isn true ! ” So the ould man smiled,
And says he, “ Well, don't be angry, child !”
Child he called me-d'ye see? d'ye see?
Child !and he takes my hand, and says he,
I suppose you've got a yarn to spin :
Come in, Tom Baynes, come in, come in!”
So in we went, and him smilin like fun,
Into the parlour ; but the Misthress run
Quite shamed lek, a whiskin through the door,
And droppin her things upon the floor.
And the sarvant keeked over the landin-top--
A dirty trouss, with her head like a mop-
And she gurned like a cat, but I didn care,
Though they're middlin spiteful them craythurs are.

So I tould the Pazon all that I had, And he says, “God bless ye! God bless ye! my lad ! " Aw, it's himself that knew my very soul, And me so young, and him so oul'. And all the good talk ! and never fearAnd leave it to him, and he'd bring me clearAnd Anthony wanted talkin toAnd on with the hat—and away he'd goAnd young Misther Taylor (a son of ould Dan!) Was a very intelligent young man. “ Aisy! Pazon," says I, and he went; . And all the road home—“ in-tel-li-gentI said, “ what's that?” some pretty name For a — deng it! these pazons just like crame. They're talkin that smooth--aw, it's well to be civil“ A son of ould Dan's !” and Dan was a divil.

That was a Monday; a Thursday night
The Pazon come, and bless me the fright
The ould woman was in, and wipin the chair,
And nudgin and winkin—“ Is Thomas there?"
He says—“Can I see him ?” So up I got,
And out at the door, and I put a knot
On my heart, like one of you, when he takes
A turn and belays, and houlds on till it breaks.
And—“ Well?” I says—then he looked at me,
And “Have you your pipe, Thomas ?” says he
“ Maybe you'd better light it,” he said,
“ It's terrible good to study the head.”

And he wouldn't take rest till I had it lit;
And he twisses and twisses, and—“Wait a bit!"
He says, and he feels, and “ We're all alone,”
Says he, and behould ye! a pipe of his own.
And “I'll smook too,” he says; and he charges,
And puffs away like Boanarges.
I never knew the like was at him afore :
And so we walked along the shore.
And if he didn behove to spin a yarn
About the stars—and Aldebarn,
And Orion--and just to consedher
The grand way God had put them together,
And wasn it a good world after all,
And—what was man—and the Bible—and Paul-
Till I got quite mad, and I says-—" That'll do!
Were you at the Brew, Pazon ? were you at the Brew?"
Aw, then it all come out, and the jaw
Ould Anthony had, and the coorts, and the law;
And—Jane Magee and her mother both-
He had gone there twice, but she stuck to her oath-
And—what could he do ? “I'm going," says I-
“ Keep up your heart now!” “I'll try, I'll try.”
“Good night, and mind you'll go straight to bed!
God bless ye, Tom !” “ And you, Sir!” I said.
" Come up in the mornin! Good night! good night!
Now mind you'll come !” “ All right! All right !”

And it's into the house, and “ Mawther," I says, “ I'm off.” “What's off ?” says she, “ if you plaze ! Off! what off !” says she, “ you slink !” And she was sharplin a knife upon the sink, And she flung it down, and she looked that wayStraight and stiff ; and “ What did you say? Off! off where ?" and the sting of a light Snapped quick in her eye—“ All right ! all right !” I says, and away to the chiss I goes— “ Stand by!” I cried, “I want my clothes ; " And I hauled them out-aw she gev a leap, And “ Lave them alone !” she says, “you creep!” And she skutched them up, and she whisked about As lithe as an eel, and still lookin out Over her shouldher, and eyein me, Like a flint, or some dead thing—" Let be, Mawther," I says, “ let go! you'd batther!” Aw, then if she didn begin no matther! And she threw the things upon the floor, And she stamped them, and down on her knees, and she toor And ripped, and ragged, and scrunched away, Aw, hands and teeth,—I'll be bound to say Them shirts was eighteen pence the yard ! Rael good shirts! aw, the woman was hard. Hard she was, and lusty, and strongI've heard them say when she was young,

She could lift a hundred-weight and more,
And there wasn a man in the parish could throw her.
And as for shearin and pickin potatoes—
Aw, well she bet all, and always as nate as
A pin, and takin a pride in it-
For there's some ould women, they're hardly fit,
They're that dirty and stupid, and messin and muddin,
I wudn live with the like-No! I wudn!
But yandhar woman-asleep or awake-
Was a clane ould craythur and no mistake.
But hard-aw hard ! for the ould man died,
And she looked, and she looked, but she never cried-
And him laid out as sweet as bran,
And everything white,-like a gentleman.
And brass nails—bless ye ! and none of your 'sterrits,
But proud in herself, and sarvin the sperrits.
And “ Misthress Baynes, now! was he prepared ?”
God knows!” eays she-aw the woman was hard.
But if you could have prised the batches
Of that strong sowl, you would have seen the catches
She made at her heart, choked up to the brim,
And you'd ha' knew she was as dead as him.
But mind me! from that very day
The woman's-juice, as you may say,
Was clean dried out of her, and she got
As tough and as dry, and as hard as a knot,
Hard—but handy, and goin still,
Not troublin much for good or ill;
Like the moon and the stars God only touched
Once long ago, and away they scutched;
And now He never minds them a bit,
But they keep goin on, for they're used of it.

Goin on! Well, she did go on that night,
And up from the floor, and her back to the light
Of the fire (it was burnin middlin low),
And the candle capsized, and she looked to grow
That big in the dark, and never a breath,
But standin there like the shadda of death-
Never a breath—for maybe a minute,
Just like a cloud with the thunder in it-
Dark and still, till its powder-bags
Burst—and the world is blown to rags.
Aw, she gave it them with a taste-she did,
“ And was it that flippity-flappity Alid
Of a Betsy Lee ? and she knew well enough
What I'd come to at last with my milkin and stuff,
And sniffin about where I hadn no call,
And the lines hangin rottin upon the wall,
And the boat never moored, and grindin her bones
To sawdust upon the cobblin stones-
And the people talkin—And who were the Lees?
Who were they now after all, if you please?

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