_Fardy:_ What is on you? _Hyacinth:_ I wish I had never left Carrow. I wish I had been drowned the first day I thought of it, and I’d be better off. _Fardy:_ What is it ails you? _Hyacinth:_ I wouldn’t for the best pound ever I had be in this place to-day. _Fardy:_ I don’t know what you are talking about. _Hyacinth:_ To have left Carrow, if it was a poor place, where I had my comrades, and an odd spree, and a game of cards—and a coursing match coming on, and I promised a new greyhound from the city of Cork. I’ll die in this place, the way I am. I’ll be too much closed in. _Fardy:_ Sure it mightn’t be as bad as what you think. _Hyacinth:_ Will you tell me, I ask you, what way can I undo it? _Fardy:_ What is it you are wanting to undo? _Hyacinth:_ Will you tell me what way can I get rid of my character? _Fardy:_ To get rid of it, is it? _Hyacinth:_ That is what I said. Aren’t you after hearing the great character they are after putting on me? _Fardy:_ That is a good thing to have. _Hyacinth:_ It is not. It’s the worst in the world. If I hadn’t it, I wouldn’t be like a prize mangold at a show with every person praising me. _Fardy:_ If I had it, I wouldn’t be like a head in a barrel, with every person making hits at me. _Hyacinth:_ If I hadn’t it, I wouldn’t be shoved into a room with all the clergy watching me and the police in the back yard. _Fardy:_ If I had it, I wouldn’t be but a message-carrier now, and a clapper scaring birds in the summer time. _Hyacinth:_ If I hadn’t it, I wouldn’t be wearing this button and brought up for an example at the meeting. _Fardy:_ (_Whistles._) Maybe you’re not, so, what those papers make you out to be? _Hyacinth:_ How would I be what they make me out to be? Was there ever any person of that sort since the world was a world, unless it might be Saint Antony of Padua looking down from the chapel wall? If it is like that I was, isn’t it in Mount Melleray I would be, or with the Friars at Esker? Why would I be living in the world at all, or doing the world’s work? _Fardy:_ (_Taking up parcel._) Who would think, now, there would be so much lies in a small place like Carrow? _Hyacinth:_ It was my mother’s cousin did it. He said I was not reared for labouring—he gave me a new suit and bid me never to come back again. I daren’t go back to face him—the neighbours knew my mother had a long family—bad luck to them the day they gave me these. (_Tears letters and scatters them._) I’m done with testimonials. They won’t be here to bear witness against me. _Fardy:_ The Sergeant thought them to be great. Sure he has the samples of them in his pocket. There’s not one in the town but will know before morning that you are the next thing to an earthly saint.