“Faith, an' I don't know that either,” says another segment. “The parsons, bad as they're spoken of, was, for the most part, willin' to live among us; and, begad, you all know that they're kind friends and good neighbors, an' that the money they get out of the parish comes back into the parish agin--not all as one as absentee landlords. They give employment as far as they're able, an' thar's no doubt but their wives and daughters does a great dale of good among the poor, and so, begad, does the parsons themselves often.” “Who is that wiseecre that spoke last?” asked the Buck; “if I don't misteek he leebors with Dennis Purcel, the procter.” “Ay, an' a very good masther he is,” replied the spokesman of the segment; “gives plenty of employment anyhow--although the pay's no great shakes--an' that's more than some that abuses him does.” “There's no one aboosin' him here, my good friend, so don't imegine it--at leest I should be extremely sorry to do so. I respect himself and his family in a very elevated manner, I assoore you. An' what's more, my friend, I'll thank you to report to him that I said so.” Here he looked significantly among the mob, especially as he perceived that the man's eyes were not fixed upon him whilst he spoke, and having thrust his tongue into his cheek, half in derision, and half as it were by a natural action, he succeeded at all events in creating a general laugh; but so easily is a laugh, among such an audience, created, that it is not altogether within our power or penetration to determine the point which occasioned their mirth, unless it were the grimace with which his words were accompanied--or stay--perhaps it was the strong evil odor in which Purcel, the subject of their conversation, must have been held. “Talk of the devil, Mr. English,” replied a stern voice from the listeners, “and he will appear; look down the road there and you'll see Purcel himself an' his family drivin' to mass on the sweat and groans of the people!” “Not all of them,” replied another voice, in a different tone; “there's only himself, his wife, and their two spankin' daughters, upon the jauntin' car; but, blood alive, look at the sons! Devil so purty a lot of sweat and groans I seen this twelvemonth as the two is riding on, in the shape of a pair of blood-horses, so that you may put the blood, Barney, along wid the sweat and the groans, agra. Well done, tithes!--ha! ha! ha!” The individual laugh that accompanied these last observation was cruel, revolting, and hideous. The Buck sought out the speaker among the crowd, and gave him first a nod of approval--and almost instantly afterward added, with a quick change of countenance, but not until he perceived that this double expression was pretty generally understood--