“And never will, Mr Modesty, till you think fit to change your tune.” “Pray inform me how I shall accommodate myself to your taste, Mr Rivers.” “There are tit-two mim-methods open to you. Either you shall pra-hactise what you pre-heach, or pre-heach what you pra-hactise!” “You are pleased to speak in riddles, Mr Rivers; be kind enough to explain.” “Ho! ho! tha-hat is mim-more than I intended. Fu-hoo men blame me for con-ce-ling my thoughts. But I shall try to be clear. You pre-heach cha-harity, and you pra-hactise rir-rir-robbery. Ho! ho! but you are a saint! Now, I am a knave; and how lies the difference? In my fif-favour to be sure, for I give the world fif-fair play--every body knows my cha-haracter.” “Your character _is_ generally known,” interposed the priest; “and, as you admire candour, allow me to add, as generally execrated.” “And what is that yoo-hoore affair, Mr Law-long-tongue. Why meddle in other men’s fif-fif-feuds?” “You mistake, Mr Rivers; he who interrupts the harmony of society is accountable to every member. You have rudely burst the bounds of decorum to-night; you have unfeelingly assailed a mild and amiable gentleman; your charge is as unjust as your manner is coarse and vulgar, and both are as execrable as any thing, save the malice that prompted the attack.” “Ho! ho! I might as well have rir-roused a hive of hornets. You black-coats fight among you-yourselves like cat and dog, but you will not allow others to interfere with the claw-hoth, I perceive.” “The deevil stop your tongue, but it’s gleg the nicht, Jack Rivers,” said the host; “can you no gie us peace?--sure nae ither man would insult the rector.” “Ho! ho! but you’re in a wonderful pucker, Mr Numskull. Let the rector defend himself.” “Mr B---- is too gentle a character to manage you,” said the priest. “Your greatest enemy wo-on’t brand you with _that_ crime,” replied Rivers, “for you ride rough-shod over all that come in your way.” “Nothing gives me greater pleasure, I admit, when I meet such characters as you; for history furnishes no likeness of you, and among living men we would seek in vain for your fellow.” “Ho! ho! your French politeness is less polished than stringent to-night, I think. I don’t admire it much. I would rather see your native talent in its native Irish dress. Out with the sentiments of your heart, plainly, man, and at once say, ‘Out of h----, Rivers, you’re matchless.’” “Oh no, I cannot profit by your advice. I felt my own want of ability, and therefore left the picture to be dashed off by an abler hand. The truthfulness of your sketch no person will venture to dispute.”