“I hope it may.” “Well yer parents isn't both livin' it's likely?” “No.” “Aye! but yell jist not forget that same, ye see; I b'lieve I sed so--your father dead, I suppose?” “No, my mother.” “Your mother; well, avick, I didn't say that for a sartinty; but still, you see, avourneen, maybe somebody could a tould ye it was the mother, forhaps, afther all.” “Did you know them?” I asked. “You see, a lanna, I can't say that, without first hearin' their names.” “My name is B------.” “An' a dacent bearable name it is, darlin'. Is yer father of them da-cent people, the B------s of Newtownlimavady, ahagur!” “Not that I know of.” “Oh, well, well, it makes no maxim between you an' me, at all, at all; but the Lord mark you to grace, any how; it's a dacent name sure enough, only if yer mother was livin', it's herself 'ud be the proud woman, an' well she might, to see such a clane, promisin' son steppin' home to her from Lough Derg.” “Indeed I'm obliged to you,” said I; “I protest I'm obliged to you, for your good opinion of me.” “It's nothin' but what ye desarve, avick! an' more nor that--yer the makin's of a clargy I'm guessin'?” “I am,” said I, “surely designed for that.” “Oh, I knew it, I knew it, it's in your face; you've the sogarth in yer very face; an' well will ye become the robes when ye get them on ye: sure, an' to tell you the truth (in a whisper, stretching up his mouth to my ear), I feel my heart warm towardst you, somehow.” “I declare I feel much the same towards you,” I returned, for the fellow in spite of me was gaining upon my good opinion; “you are a decent, civil soul.” “An' for that raison, and for your dacent mother's sake (_sobies-coat inpassy, amin_), (* Requiescat in pace.) I'll jist here offer up the _gray profungus_ (* De profundis) for the release of her sowl out o' the burning flames of pur-gathur.” I really could not help shuddering at this. He then repeated a psalm for that purpose, the 130th in our Bible, but the 129th in theirs. When it was finished, with all due gesticulation, that is to say, having thumped his breast with great violence, kissed the ground, and crossed himself repeatedly, he says to me, like a man confident that he had paved his way to my good graces, “Now, avick, as we _did_ do so much, you're the very darlin' young man that I won't lave, widout the best, maybe, that's to come yet, ye see; bekase I'll swap a prayer wid you, this blessed minute.” “I'm very glad you mentioned it,” said I. “But you don't know, maybe, darlin', that I'm undher five ordhers.” “Dear me! is it possible you're under so many?” “Undher five ordhers, acushla!”--“Well,” I replied, “I am ready.”--“Undher five ordhers--but I'll lave it to yourself; only when it's over, maybe, ye'll hear somethin' from me that'll make you thankful you ever gave me silver any way.”