“The very time, Briney; but God be thanked, Father Philip settled him to the day of judgment.” “And where did he put him, Phaddhy?” “Why, he wanted to be put anundher the hearth-stone; but Father Philip made him walk away with himself into a thumb-bottle, and tied a stone to it, and then sent him to where he got a cooling, the thief, at the bottom of the lough behind the house.” “Well, I'll tell you what I'm thinking I'll be apt to do, Phaddhy, when I'm a clargy.” “And what is that, Briney?” “Why, I'll--but, Phaddhy,don't be talking of this, bekase, if it should come to be known, I might get my brains knocked out by some of the heretics.” “Never fear, Briney, there's no danger of that--but what is it?” “Why, I'll translate all the Protestants into asses, and then we'll get our hands red of them altogether.” “Well, that flogs for cuteness, and it's a wondher the clargy* doesn't do it, and them has the power; for 'twould give us pace entirely. But, Briney, will you speak in Latin to Father Philemy on Thursday?” * I have no hesitation in asserting that the bulk of the uneducated peasantry really believe that the priests have this power. “To tell you the thruth, Phaddhy, I would rather he wouldn't examine me this bout, at all at all.” “Ay, but you know we couldn't go agin him, Briney, bekase he promised to get you into the college. Will you speak some Latin, now till I hear you?” “Hem!--_Verbum personaley cohairit cum nomnatibo numbera at persona at numquam sera yeast at bonis moras voia_.” “Bless my heart!--and, Briney, where's that taken from?” “From Syntax, Phaddhy.” “And who was Syntax--do you know, Briney?” “He was a Roman, Phaddhy, bekase there's a Latin prayer in the beginning of the book.” “Ay, was he--a priest, I'll warrant him. Well, Briney, do you mind yer Latin, and get on wid yer larnin', and when you grow up you'll have a pair of boots, and a horse of your own (and a good broadcloth black coat, too) to ride on, every bit as good as Father Philemy's, and may be betther nor Father Con's.” From this point, which usually wound up these colloquies between the father and son, the conversation generally diverged into the more spacious fields of science; so that by the time they reached home, Briney had probably given the father a learned dissertation upon the elevation of the clouds above the earth, and told him within how many thousand miles they approached it, at their nearest point of approximation. “Katty,” said Phaddhy, when he got home, “we're to have a station here on Thursday next: 'twas given out from the altar to-day by Father Philemy.” “Oh, wurrah, wurrah!” exclaimed Katty, overwhelmed at the consciousness of her own incapacity to get up a dinner in sufficient style for such guests--“wurrah, wurrah! Phaddhy, ahagur, what on the livin' earth will we do at all at all! Why, we'll never be able to manage it.”