Gearry, from The Shops, he's mad enough to swear,
An' durst n't spake a word but grin, the whilst that Chairley's
there!
Oh! Chairley! Chairley! Chairley Burke! ye divil, wid yer ways
O' dhrivin' all the throubles aff, these dark an' gloomy days!
Ohone! that it's meself, wid all the griefs I have to drown,
Must lave me pick to resht a bit, sence Chairley Burke's in town!
"Before we turn back, now," said the smiling Major, as I stood
lingering over the indefinable humor of the last refrain, "before we
turn back I want to show you something eminently characteristic. Come
this way a half dozen steps."
As he spoke I looked up, to first observe that we had paused before a
handsome square brick residence, centering a beautiful smooth lawn,
its emerald only littered with the light gold of the earliest autumn
leaves. On either side of the trim walk that led up from the gate to
the carved stone ballusters of the broad piazza, with its empty easy
chairs, were graceful vases, frothing over with late blossoms, and
wreathed with laurel-looking vines; and, luxuriantly lacing the border
of the pave that turned the further corner of the house, blue, white
and crimson, pink and violet, went fading in perspective as my gaze
followed the gesture of the Major's.
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