Flann, Again

LITERALLY FROM THE IRISH
M
I was a day in Dingle and Paddy James, my sister's man, in company with me and us in the direction of each other in the running of the day.

A man he was that would not have a glass of whiskey long between the hands, or a pint of black porter either, without shooting them backwards; but he got no sweet taste ever on the one he would buy himself, and great would be the pleasure with him that another man should nudge him in the back to ask him to have one with him.