Australian Tales - Setis

trunk. At that moment Dr. O'Flaherty opened his eyes to behold an
undefinable apparition darkening his chamber window and making a
rumbling noise on the roof, like a barrowful of bricks, so that in far less
time than it takes me to record it, the fiery little Celt decided upon a
course of prompt action to punish the bold invader of the sanctity of his
chamber, and the noisy disturber of his slumbers.
It is said that an Hibernian sire once gave this parting advice to his son,
who was starting out on his travels in foreign lands. “Phelim, me bhoy!
whiniver yez hear of a row hurry to it; an whiniver yez see a head, hit it
wid yer sthick.” Dr. O'Flaherty probably held similar views respecting
the policy of hitting heads; at any rate he was not disposed to allow heads
or bodies either to intrude upon his privacy unmolested, so he sprang out
of bed in a twinkling, seized his shillelah, which was always handy, and
dealt Mr. McSkilly a mighty crack — or rather thud — not on his head
exactly, because his head was outside the window. He hit him very hard,
however, and his head very soon came inside the window to see what
was the matter behind him, and to ascertain who it was that had behaved
so inhospitably; and then commenced an awful fight between the doctor
and the dentist, which I must describe in my next chapter, where I will
also explain the primary cause of all these extraordinary occurrences.
Chapter IV.
DOCTOR O'FLAHERTY was not deterred from hitting Mr. McSkilly
on the head, in the first instance, by any particular respect for that
member, but merely because the head was outside the attic looking after
the trunk. The correctness of that assumption is very clear; for no sooner
had the astounded Scotchman drawn his head inside, than the choleric
little doctor began to rap at it like a volunteer bandsman beating a kettle
drum.
“Hook toot mon!” cried McSkilly. “Dinna be fechtin me, I'll gang out
of yer hoose agen, if I'm na welcome intil it. I wadna fecht for ony
money, I'd rather rin awa ony day.”
“What do you mane by poking your ugly carcase inside my window?
You cat-a-walling thief!” With that the doctor made his stick rattle again
on McSkilly's head, while the poor bewildered fellow stood for a
moment, uncertain whether to fight or flee.
“Don't you know better manners than to come into a gintleman's
apartment in that haythinish fashion? And is this the way you trate your
supariors, in this part of the worrld?” saying which the little Celt
moistened his hand to grip his shillelah again, and hopping round the
astonished Scot, alternately attacked his head and his shins, until his
peaceable spirit was aroused to fighting pitch, in pure self-defence. With
a rapid outpouring of Caledonian compliments, he rushed upon his