UNSUCCESSFUL FLATTERY.

Auckland Star, Volume XVIII, Issue 148, 25 June 1887, Page 3 (Supplement)

UNSUCCESSFUL FLATTERY.

A Brilliant Effort Thrown Away Un.

availJngly.

(From the " Detroit Free Press.")

His name was Duffy—Michael Duffy,

He awoke' one morning last week from a deep dream of beer. As he was a superstitious man he felt called upon to rise, put on his clothes and sally out directly by

his dreams,

His vision would have been easily fulfilled, but when he searched his pockets to find his pence he found he had no coin of the realm. Now, Michael's credit was a long-lost remembrance. Running over the list of his supply agents; he could think of no one who had not struck. At last he bethought himself of the wife of a dog fancier who kept a variegated bar at the West End. Going to thedoor with hope-winged feet, he saw°to his delight that, the dog fancier was out and his wife, Mrs Murphy, was behind the bar with a child in her arms.

" Ah, good mornin', Mrs Murphy; it's an illegant day we have entirely." -ii Eight ye are, Mr Duffy; it's a fine mornin' indade."

"An'what a swate place ye have here, Mrs Murphy, ye kape it as clean as a \xavlour, ye do." " "Ah, well, Mr Duffy, I do what I can, but the children make a mess of it, tJiey do," " Ah, what a child ye have there, Mrs Murphy ; the eyes of him go through me complately. Och, the pritty little divil— he's the image of Dinnis, that he is !" " Ah, Mr Duffy !" "An" Dinnis, himself - there's a nice man for ye's ; a fine provider, I'll be bound, Mrs Murphy—an' he takes care of the family, Mrs Murphy ! " Vis, Mr Duffy, Dinnis is a fine man as 3>-ou say—an' he gives me money every Saturday night." " I thought so, Mrs Murphy—an' it's right he is, Mrs Murphy, an' he thinks highly of ye, ay coorse, an' well he might, for it's a well-preserved woman ye are, Mrs Murphy. An' ye've been a beauty in yer day, an' there's more than one boy that knows it to his cost, Mrs Murphy—an' couldn't yp give me a drink of beer, Mrs U ♦ * piiy r " ** fed, I paimot, Mr Duffy—and Dinnis told me to turn ye out if ye came for it, an' to call tlie polace." . . " Mrs Murphy, it's an old hag ye are, an' Dinnis is top mane for dog's meat, an' yer baby-well, I was givin' yer a stiff—you baby is that cross-eyed that the flies fall off the saylin when they look at him."