{"character_count": 2214, "word_count": 435, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9769999980926514], "ccnet_perplexity": [1972.300048828125], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
house he was speaking about But when
the sorpint saw the nine great bouts upon
the chest. he thought he was souid, (be-
tragedy and was for making off with himself
as fast ever he could.


'Tis a nice warm house, you see,' says
Saint Patrick, 'and It's good friend AM
10 YOU


i thank you kindly, Saint Patrick, for
your civlity,' says the sorpint, but think
it's too small il is for me'-meaning it for
an excuse, and away he was going.


TOO small!' says Saint Patrick, stop,
if you please, says he, 'you re out in that,
my boy, any howl am sure twill fit you
completely; and, I'll tell you what, says he;
IN bet you a gallon of porter, says he,
that if you'll only try and get in, there'l
be plenty of room for you.


The sarpint was as thirsty as could be
with his walk, and twas great JOY to him
the thoughts of doing St Patrick out of
the gallon Of porter; so, swelling himself
up as big as he could, in he got into the
chest all bu, little bit Of his tail. There
now says he, 1've won the gallon, for you
see the house is too small for me, for
can't get in my tail When, what does
Saint Patrick do, but he comes behind the
great heavy lid of the chest, and putting
his Two hands 10 it, down he slaps it with
bang like thunder. When the rogue of
sa,pim saw the lid coming down, in went
his tail like a shot, for fear of being whip
ped off him, and Saint Patrick began at
once TO bout the nine iron bouHs.


OH murder Won't you let me out,
SAINT Pntrlck?' says the surpint-l've lost
the bet fairly, and I'll pay you the gallon
like man.


let you out, my darIingp says Sdint
Patrick, TO be sure will. by all manner
of means; but, you see, | havnt time now.
so you must wait till Tomorrow. And so
he took the iron chest, with the sarpim in
it, and pitches it into the lake here, where
it is to this hour, for certain; and 'tis the
sarpint struggling down at The bottom that
makes the waves upon it, Many is the liv-
ing man, continued Picket, besides myself,
has heard the sarp'nt crying out, from with
in the chest under the water. Is it to-mor-
row vet?-Is it tomorrow yet" which, TO
be sure, it never can be; and that's the
way Saint Patrick settled the last of the
sarpints, sir.'-Croker's Legends Killarmy.