"Why, the clergy of his faith have a habit of defending the strong and crushing the weak, I believe; that's all. He once thought I was dull enough to damn my fortune, and then he had some strange doubts for my soul; now he thinks me wise enough to become prosperous, and it is astonishing what a respect he has conceived for my principles." "Ha! ha! ha!--you have a spice of your uncle's humour in you; and, 'Gad, you have no small knowledge of the world, considering you have seen so little of it." A hit at the popish clergy was, in my good uncle's eyes, the exact acme of wit and wisdom. We are always clever with those who imagine we think as they do. To be shallow you must differ from people: to be profound you must agree with them. "Why, Sir," answered the sage nephew, "you forget that I have seen more of the world than many of twice my age. Your house has been full of company ever since I have been in it, and you set me to making observations on what I saw before I was thirteen. And then, too, if one is reading books about real life, at the very time one is mixing in it, it is astonishing how naturally one remarks and how well one remembers." "Especially if one has a genius for it,--eh, boy? And then too, you have read my play; turned Horace's Satires into a lampoon upon the boys at school; been regularly to assizes during the vacation; attended the county balls, and been a most premature male coquette with the ladies. Ods fish, boy! it is quite curious to see how the young sparks of the present day get on with their lovemaking." "Especially if one has a genius for it,--eh, sir?" said I. "Besides, too," said my uncle, ironically, "you have had the Abbe's instructions." "Ay, and if the priests would communicate to their pupils their experience in frailty, as well as in virtue, how wise they would make us!" "Ods fish! Morton, you are quite oracular. How got you that fancy of priests?--by observation in life already?" "No, Uncle: by observation in plays, which you tell me are the mirrors of life; you remember what Lee says,-- "''Tis thought That earth is more obliged to priests for bodies Than Heaven for souls.'" And my uncle laughed, and called me a smart fellow. CHAPTER XII. THE ABBE'S RETURN.--A SWORD, AND A SOLILOQUY. THE next evening, when I was sitting alone in my room, the Abbe Montreuil suddenly entered. "Ah, is it you? welcome!" cried I. The priest held out his arms, and embraced me in the most paternal manner. "It is your friend," said he, "returned at last to bless and congratulate you. Behold my success in your service," and the Abbe produced a long leather case richly inlaid with gold. "Faith, Abbe," said I, "am I to understand that this is a present for your eldest pupil?"