Father Tom and the Pope : $b Or, a night in the VaticanFerguson, Samuel
Religion
Father Tom and the Pope : $b Or, a night in the Vatican
Ferguson, Samuel
Catholic Church -- Fiction; Christian fiction; Clergy -- Fiction; Popes -- Fiction
"It's my mule," says the Pope, "and if you were to offer her goolden
oats and clover off the meadows o' Paradise, sorra taste ov aither
she'd let pass her teeth till the first mass is over every Sunday or
holiday in the year."
"Well, and what 'ud you say if I showed you a baste of mine," says his
Riv'rence, "that, instead ov fasting till first mass is over only,
fasts out the whole four-and-twenty hours ov every Wednesday and Friday
in the week as reg'lar as a Christian?"
"Oh, be aisy, Misther Maguire," says the Pope.
"You don't b'lieve me, don't you?" says his Riv'rence; "very well, I'll
soon show you whether or no," and he puts his knuckles in his mouth,
and gev a whistle that made the Pope stop his fingers in his ears. The
aycho, my dear, was hardly done playing wid the cobwebs in the cornish,
when the door flies open, and in jumps Spring. The Pope happened to be
sitting next the door, betuxt him and his Riv'rence, and, may I never
die, if he didn't clear him, thriple crown and all, at one spang.
"God's presence be about us!" says the Pope, thinking it was an evil
spirit come to fly away wid him for the lie that he had tould in
regard ov his mule (for it was nothing more nor a thrick that consisted
in grasing the brute's teeth): but, seeing it was one ov the greatest
beauties ov a grayhound that he'd ever laid his epistolical eyes on, he
soon recovered ov his fright, and began to pat him, while Father Tom
ris and went to the sideboord, where he cut a slice ov pork, a slice
ov beef, a slice ov mutton, and a slice ov salmon, and put them all on
a plate thegither. "Here, Spring, my man," says he, setting the plate
down afore him on the hearthstone, "here's your supper for you this
blessed Friday night." Not a word more he said nor what I tell you;
and, you may believe it or not, but it's the blessed truth that the
dog, afther jist tasting the salmon, and spitting it out again, lifted
his nose out o' the plate, and stood wid his jaws wathering, and his
tail wagging, looking up in his Riv'rence's face, as much as to say,
"Give me your absolution, till I hide them temptations out o' my sight."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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