"And why don't you tell his reverence about the rice puddin'?" 223 "It broke in my fingers and revealed the little dreams and ambitions of nearly forty years ago" 262 "Was there anything wrong with the chicken?" facing 294 "I read that over three times to make quite sure of it" 321 "Ahem!--Reginald Ormsby, wilt thou take Mrs. Darcy--" facing 390 "Come down to Mrs. Haley's; there isn't a better dhrop betune this and Dublin" facing 450 "Come on, you ruffian!" 451 "For the love of God, Jem, is 't yourself or your ghost?" 453 "Hallo, there!... who the ---- are ye?" facing 460 Waiting for my New Curate 479 _MY NEW CURATE_ _Gathered from Stray Leaves of an Old Diary by an Irish Parish Priest_ CHAPTER I THE CHANGE It is all my own fault. I was too free with my tongue. I said in a moment of bitterness: "What can a Bishop do with a parish priest? He's independent of him." It was not grammatical, and it was not respectful. But the bad grammar and the impertinence were carried to his Lordship, and he answered: "What can I _do_? I can send him a curate who will break his heart in six weeks." I was not too much surprised, then, when one evening my dear old friend and curate, Father Tom Laverty, came to me, with tears in his eyes and an open letter in his hand:-- "I am off, Father Dan. Look at this!" It was a succinct, laconic order to present himself to a parish priest twenty miles distant, and to be in time to discharge his duties in that parish the following Saturday and Sunday, for his jurisdiction was transferred, etc. It was a hard stroke. I was genuinely attached to Father Tom. We had the same tastes and habits,--easy, contented, conservative, with a cordial dislike of innovations of any kind. We held the same political opinions, preached the same sermons, administered the Sacraments in the old way, and had a reverence for antiquities in general. It was a sad break in my life to part with him; and it is a harmless vanity on my part to say that he was sorry to part from me. "I suppose there's no help for it?" said he. "No," said I; "but if you care--" "No use," said he; "when _he_ has made up his mind you might as well be talking to a milestone." "And you must be off to-morrow?" said I, consulting the bishop's letter. "Yes," said he, "short shrift." "And who am I getting?" I wondered. "Hard to guess," said he. He was in no humor for conversation.