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 a dish. About eighty years ago a well-known military gentleman of Baltinglass in the County Wicklow—whose daughter told me the story—had on one occasion a large party of friends to dinner. On the very day of the dinner the waiter took ill, and the stable boy—a big coarse fellow—had to be called in, after elaborate instructions. All went well till near the end of the dinner, when the fellow thought things were going on rather slowly. Opening the diningroom door he thrust in his head and called out in the hearing of all:—'Masther, are ye ready for the roasthers?' A short time ago I was looking at the house and diningroom where that occurred.


 * Rocket; a little girl's frock. (Very common in Limerick.) It is of course an old application of the English-French rochet.


 * Rodden; a bohereen or narrow road. (Ulster.) It is the Irish róidín, little road.


 * Roman; used by the people in many parts of Ireland for Roman Catholic. I have already quoted what the Catholic girl said to her Protestant lover:—'Unless that you turn a Roman you ne'er shall get me for your bride.' Sixty or seventy years ago controversial discussions—between a Catholic on the one hand and a Protestant on the other—were very common. I witnessed many when I was a boy—to my great delight. Garrett Barry, a Roman Catholic, locally noted as a controversialist, was arguing with Mick Cantlon, surrounded by a group of delighted listeners. At last Garrett, as a final clincher, took up the Bible, opened it at a certain place, and handed it to his opponent, with:—'