“Hut, sir,” replied Phaddhy, determined to take what he afterwards called a rise out of the priest; “they knew little about it--as rich as they said, sir! no, but three times as rich, itself: but, any how, he was the man that could make the money.” “I'm very happy to hear it, Phaddhy, on, your account, and that of your children. God be good to him--_requiescat animus ejus in pace, per omnia secula seculorum_, Amen!--he liked a drop in his time, Phaddhy, as well as ourselves, eh?” “Amen, amen--the heavens be his bed!--he-did, poor man! but he had it at first cost, your Reverence, for he run it all himself in the mountains: he could afford to take it.” “Yes, Phaddhy, the heavens be his bed, I pray; no Christmas or Easter ever passed but he was sure to send me the little keg of stuff that never saw water; but, Phaddhy, there's one thing that concerns me about him, in regard of his love of drink--I'm afraid it's a throuble to him where he is at present; and I was sorry to find that, although he died full of money, he didn't think it worth his while to leave even the price of a mass to be said for the benefit of his own soul.” “Why, sure you know, Father Philemy, that he wasn't what they call a dhrinking man: once a quarther, or so, he sartinly did take a jorum; and except at these times, he was very sober. But God look upon us, yer Reverence--or upon myself, anyway; for if he's to suffer for his doings that way, I'm afeard we'll have a troublesome reck'ning of it.” “Hem, a-hem!--Phaddhy,” replied the priest, “he has raised you and your children from poverty, at all events, and you ought to consider that. If there is anything in your power to contribute to the relief of his soul, you havs a strong duty upon you to do it; and a number of masses, offered up devoutly, would--” “Why, he did, sir, raise both myself and my childre from poverty,” said Phaddhy, not willing to let that point go farther--“that I'll always own to; and I hope in God that whatever little trouble might be upon him for the dhrop of dhrink, will be wiped off by this kindness to us.” “He hadn't even a Month's mind!”* * A Mouth's Mind is the repetition of one or more masses, at the expiration of a month after death, for the repose of a departed soul. There are generally more than the usual number of priests on such occasions: each of whom receives a sum of money, varying according to the wealth of the survivors--sometimes five shillings, and sometimes five guineas. “And it's not but I spoke to him about both, yer Eeverence.” “And what did he say, Phaddy?” “'Phaddy,' said he, 'I have been giving Father M'Guirk, one way or another, between whiskey, oats, and dues, a great deal of money every year; and now, afther I'm dead,' says he, 'isn't it an ungrateful thing of him not to offer up one mass for my sowl, except I leave him payment for it?'” “Did he say that, Phaddhy?” “I'm giving you his very words, yer Reverence.”