The mirth and fun now grew "fast and furious;" and Father Malachi, rising with the occasion, flung his reckless drollery and fun on every side, sparing none, from his cousin to the coadjutor. It was not that peculiar period in the evening's enjoyment, when an expert and practical chairman gives up all interference or management, and leaves every thing to take its course; this then was the happy moment selected by Father Malachi to propose the little "contrhibution." He brought a plate from a side table, and placing it before him, addressed the company in a very brief but sensible speech, detailing the object of the institution he was advocating, and concluding with the following words:--"and now ye'll just give whatever ye like, according to your means in life, and what ye can spare." The admonition, like the "morale" of an income tax, having the immediate effect of pitting each man against his neighbour, and suggesting to their already excited spirits all the ardour of gambling, without, however, a prospect of gain. The plate was first handed to me in honour of my "rank," and having deposited upon it a handful of small silver, the priest ran his finger through the coin, and called out:-- "Five pounds! at least; not a farthing less, as I am a sinner. Look, then,--see now; they tell ye, the gentlemen don't care for the like of ye! but see for yourselves. May I trouble y'r lordship to pass the plate to Mr. Mahony--he's impatient, I see." Mr. Mahony, about whom I perceived very little of the impatience alluded to, was a grim-looking old Christian, in a rabbit-skin waistcoat, with long flaps, who fumbled in the recesses of his breeches pocket for five minutes, and then drew forth three shillings, which he laid upon the plate, with what I fancied very much resembled a sigh. "Six and sixpence, is it? or five shillings?--all the same, Mr. Mahony, and I'll not forget the thrifle you were speaking about this morning any way;" and here he leaned over as interceding with me for him, but in reality to whisper into my ear, "the greatest miser from this to Castlebar." "Who's that put down the half guinea in goold?" (And this time he spoke truth.) "Who's that, I say?" "Tim Kennedy, your reverence," said Tim, stroking his hair down with one hand, and looking proud and modest at the same moment. "Tim, ye're a credit to us any day, and I always said so. It's a gauger he'd like to be, my lord," said he, turning to me, in a kind of stage whisper. I nodded and muttered something, when he thanked me most profoundly as if his suit had prospered. "Mickey Oulahan--the lord's looking at ye, Mickey." This was said piannisime across the table, and had the effect of increasing Mr. Oulahan's donation from five shillings to seven--the last two being pitched in very much in the style o a gambler making his final coup, and crying "va banque." "The Oulahans were always dacent people--dacent people, my lord."