The Budget.

Begorra there's goin' to be a mighty purty ruction in the Kabinet betchune meself an' the rest o' the boys; an' faix I'm sorry for it, for sure ye know asthore, that I've been the right-hand man o' the Provinshil Party from the outset. But human indurance has its limits, an' Be the piper that played before Moses I'll not stand it any longer, so I wont, that's the soart o' man that I am. The long an' the short on it is that meself an' me callaiges are split on the Budget. It's a tuppinny-ha'pinny consarn from first to last, an' though some people may call it a finc-anshil statement, Be the hokey I can't see anything fine about it. It's about as mane a Ballance-sheet as I've iver clapped eyes on. The Threasurer has no idays beyant a hapinny bekaise he says it's a "homely coin" that reminds him o' the first Glasgow magisthrate he made the acquaintance of, whin he first wint over to Scotland rapin' the harvest, for sure he's a counthryman o' mine, but Be the powers I'm not the laste taste proud of him, so I'm not. Betwixt you an' me I've a notion that he must have sarved his time to the tinkerin' thrade, from the contints o' his budget. It's nayther fish, flesh, nor good red herrin'. An' talkin' o' red herrin', be dad he's not capable o' raichin' even to a sprat.

It's a ha'pinny on this, an' three ha'pince on that, all through the piece. An' thin, look at the duty on beer! Why, it's ridikilous in the ixthrame, for sure we'll have to imploy half-a-dozen gangers to watch ivery brewery. Now if Misther Ballance had tuk my advice an' taxed the malt an' the hops, there would have been some sinse in the procaidin; but, begorra, whin I mintioned the matther to him he flew in a passhin, an' ses he, "Is it tax the hops? Why, bad cess to yer thick head, Paddy aroon, all the colleens in the counthry would go stark, starin' mad if we tax'd the hops." N="ow, I can stand a dale o' nonsince from Mac, an' Stout, an' Sir George, bekaise we know one another so well, an' work into one another's hands; but be jabers I can't stand the Threasurer at all at all, so I can't, so I answers him back in the followin' words; "Why, ye mane, dirty, ignorant bostkoon, ye low-lived, ill-bred varmint, ye incultivated ommadhaun, how daar ye talk to me like that." Well, he comminced to soother me whin he saw me timper risin', an' ses he, "Be the vartu o' me oath, I hadn't the laist intintion to insult ye," ses he, "but sure, ye know, achorra, that the girls can't do widout hops," ses he. "Musha, faith thin, they can," ses I, "for sure ivery little saimstress an' sowin'-machine girl, instead of attendin' to their threadles an' iling their machines properly, must go off ivery night to the Assimbly wid young M'Sausage, the imbryo butcher, dandy Thrimmins, the couather jumper, or Wigson, the barber's clerk. Faix nothin' less will do them than Bal Maskews (Friuch) an' Karnivals, and Im Sees, and sich rubbish. If the hops consisted av good Irish jigs an' reels, there would be some sinse in it," ses I, "an' the long an' the short of it is," ses I, gettin' mighty warm on the subject, "unless hops are tax'd, I'll lave the Kabinit." Jist at that moment, Mac and Sir George dhropp'd in, and thried to pacify me, but" No Sur- rendher" is the motto o' the Murphies (at laist of our branch o' the family), and unless the Threasurer gives way, be jabers there'll be a row in the House. More particulars in me nixt.