“I did, your reverence.” “And you know me to be Father Toban?” “I do, your reverence.” “How do you know me to be Father Toban?” “Och, why because many’s the good time that I have heard your reverence, Father Toban, say mass.” “And what is it you want me to do?” “Why, see here, your reverence, we are going to embark in the dirty steamer yonder for ould Ireland, which starts as soon as the tide serves, and we want your reverence to bless us before we goes.” “You want me to bless you?” “We do, your reverence; we want you to spit out a little bit of a blessing upon us before we goes on board.” “And what good would my blessing do you?” “All kinds of good, your reverence; it would prevent the dirty steamer from catching fire, your reverence, or from going down, your reverence, or from running against the blackguard Hill of Howth in the mist, provided there should be one.” “And suppose I were to tell you that I am not Father Toban?” “Och, your reverence will never think of doing that.” “Would you believe me if I did?” “We would not, your reverence.” “If I were to swear that I am not Father Toban?” “We would not, your reverence.” “On the evangiles?” “We would not, your reverence.” “On the Cross?” “We would not, your reverence.” “And suppose I were to refuse to give you a blessing?” “Och, your reverence will never refuse to bless the poor boys.” “But suppose I were to refuse?” “Why, in such a case, which by the bye is altogether impossible, we should just make bould to give your reverence a good bating.” “You would break my head?” “We would, your reverence.” “Kill me?” “We would, your reverence.” “You would really put me to death?” “We would not, your reverence.” “And what’s the difference between killing and putting to death?” “Och, sure there’s all the difference in the world. Killing manes only a good big bating, such as every Irishman is used to, and which your reverence would get over long before matins, whereas putting your reverence to death would prevent your reverence from saying mass for ever and a day.” “And you are determined on having a blessing?” “We are, your reverence.” “By hook or by crook?” “By hook or by crook, your reverence.” “Before I bless you, will you answer me a question or two?” “I will, your reverence.” “Are you not a set of great big blackguards?” “We are, your reverence.” “Without one good quality?” “We are, your reverence.” “Would it not be quite right to saddle and bridle you all, and ride you violently down Holyhead or the Giant’s Causeway into the waters, causing you to perish there, like the herd of swine of old?” “It would, your reverence.” “And knowing and confessing all this, you have the cheek to come and ask me for a blessing?” “We have, your reverence.” “Well, how shall I give the blessing?” “Och, sure your reverence knows very well how to give it.” “Shall I give it in Irish?” “Och, no, your reverence—a blessing in Irish is no blessing at all.” “In English?”