"Stop a bit," says the Pope, "I can't althegither give in to your second minor--no--your second major," says he, and he stopped. "Faix, then," says he, getting confused, "I don't rightly remimber where it was exactly that I thought I seen the flaw in your premises. Howsomdiver," says he, "I don't deny that it's a good conclusion, and one that 'ud be ov materi'l service to the Church if it was dhrawn wid a little more distinctiveness." "I'll make it as plain as the nose on your Holiness's face, by superbaton," says his Riv'rence. "My adversary says black is not another color, that is, white! Now, that's jist a parallel passidge wid the one out ov Tartullian that me and Hayes smashed the heretics on in Clarendon sthreet, 'This is my body--that is, the figure ov my body.' That's a superbaton, and we showed that it oughtn't to be read that way at all, but this way, 'This figure ov my body _is_ my body.' Jist so wid my adversary's proposition, it mustn't be undherstood the way it reads, by no manner ov manes; but it's to be taken this way--'Black--that is, white, is not another color'--green, if you like, or orange, by dad, for anything I care, for my case is proved. 'Black,' that is, 'white,' lave out the 'that,' by sinnalayphy, and you have the orthodox conclusion, 'Black is white,' or by convarsion, 'White is black.'" "It's as clear as mud," says the Pope. "Begad," says his Riv'rence, "I'm in great humor for disputin' to-night. I wisht your Holiness was a heretic jist for two minutes," says he, "till you'd see the flaking I'd give you!" "Well, then, for the fun o' the thing, suppose me my namesake, if you like," says the Pope, laughing, "though, by Jayminy," says he, "he's not one that I take much pride out ov." "Very good--divil a betther joke ever I had," says his Riv'rence. "Come, then, Misther Pope," says he, "hould up that purty face ov yours, and answer me this question. Which 'ud be the biggest lie, if I said I seen a turkey-cock lying on the broad ov his back, and picking the stars out ov the sky, or if I was to say that I seen a gandher in the same interestin' posture, raycreating himself wid similar asthronomical expiriments? Answer me that, you ould swaddler?" says he. "How durst you call me a swaddler, sir," says the Pope, forgetting, the dear man, the part that he was acting. "Don't think for to bully me!" says his Riv'rence, "I always daar to spake the truth, and it's well known that you're nothing but a swaddling ould sinner of a saint," says he, never letting on to persave that his Holiness had forgot what they were agreed on.