Part 7 (2/2)

”Well, Father Philemy,” said Phaddhy, ”as he won't sing, may be, wid submission he'd examine Briney in his Latin, till his mother and I hear how's he doing at it.”

”Ay, he's fond of dabbling at Latin, so he may try him--I'm sure I have no objection--: so, Captain, as I was telling you--”

”Silence there below!” said Phaddhy to those at the lower end of the table, who were now talkative enough; ”will yez whisht there till Father Con hears Briney a lesson in his Latin. Where are you, Briney? come here, ma bouchal.”

But Briney had absconded when he saw that the tug of war was about to commence. In a few minutes, however, the father returned, pus.h.i.+ng the boy before him, who in his reluctance to encounter the ordeal of examination, clung to every chair, table, and person in his way, hoping that his restiveness might induce them to postpone the examination till another occasion. The father, however, was inexorable, and by main force dragged him from all his holds, and, placed him before Father Con.

”What's come over you, at all at all, you unsignified s.h.i.+ngawn you, to affront the gintleman in this way, and he kind enough to go for to give you an examination?--come now, you had betther not vex me, I tell you, but hould up your head, and spake out loud, that we can all hear you: now, Father Con, achora, you'll not be too hard upon him in the beginning, till he gets into it, for he's aisy dashed.”

”Here, Briney,” said Father Philemy, handing him his tumbler, ”take a pull of this and if you have any courage at all in you it will raise it;--take a good pull.” Briney hesitated.

”Why, but you take the gla.s.s out of his Reverence's hand, sarrah,”

said the father--”what! is it without dhrinking his Reverence's health first?”

Briney gave a most melancholy nod at his Reverence, as he put the tumbler to his mouth, which he nearly emptied, notwithstanding his shyness.

”For my part,” said his Reverence, looking at the almost empty tumbler, ”I am pretty sure that that same chap will be able to take care of himself through life. And so, Captain,--” said he, resuming the conversation with Captain Wilson--for his notice of Briney was only parenthetical.

Father Con now took the book, which was AEsop's Fables, and, in accordance with Briney's intention, it opened exactly at the favorite fable of Gallus Gallinacexis. He was not aware, however, that Briney had kept that place open during the preceding part of the week, in order to effect this point. Father Philemy, however, was now beginning to relate another anecdote to the Captain, and the thread of his narrative twined rather ludicrously with that of the examination.

Briney, after, a few hems, at length proceeded--”_Gallus Gallinaceus_, a dung-hill c.o.c.k--”

”So, Captain, I was just after coming out of Widow Moylan's--it was in the Lammas fair--and a large one, by the by, it was--so, sir, who should come up to me but Branagan. 'Well, Branagan,' said I, 'how does the world go now with you?'----”

”_Gallus Gallinaceus_, a dunghill c.o.c.k----”

----”Says he. 'And how is that?' says I.

”_Gallus Gallinaceus_----”

-----”Says he, 'Hut tut, Branagan,' says I--'you're drunk.' 'That's the thing, sir' says Branagan, 'and I want to explain it all to your Reverence.' 'Well,' said I, 'go on---”

”_Gallus Gallinaceus_, a dunghill c.o.c.k----”

----”Says he,----Let your Gallus Gallinaceus go to roost for this night, Con,” said Father Philemy, who did not relish the interruption of his story; ”I say, Phaddhy, send the boy to bed, and bring him down in your hand to my house on Sat.u.r.day morning, and we will both examine him, but this is no time for it, and me engaged in conversation with Captain Wilson.--So, Captain ____'Well, sir,' says Branagan, and he staggering,--'I took an oath against liquor, and I want your Reverence to break it,' says he. 'What do you mean?' I inquired. 'Why, please your Reverence,' said he, 'I took an oath against liquor, as I told you, not to drink more nor a pint of whiskey in one day, and I want your Reverence to break it for me, and make it only half a pint; for I find that a pint is too much for me; by the same token, that when I get that far, your Reverence, I disremember the oath entirely.”

The influence of the bottle now began to be felt, and the conversation absolutely blew a gale, wherein hearty laughter, good strong singing, loud argument, and general good humor blended into one uproarious peal of hilarity, accompanied by some smart flashes of wit and humor which would not disgrace a prouder banquet. Phaddhy, in particular, melted into a spirit of the most unbounded benevolence--a spirit that would (if by any possible means he could effect it) embrace the whole human race; that is to say, he would raise them, man, woman, and child, to the same elevated state of happiness which he enjoyed himself. That, indeed, was happiness in perfection, as pure and unadulterated as the poteen which created it. How could he be otherwise than happy?--he had succeeded to a good property, and a stocking of hard guineas, without the hard labor of acquiring them; he had the ”clargy” under his roof at last, partaking of a hospitality which he felt himself well able to afford them; he had settled with his Reverence for five years' arrears of sin, all of which had been wiped out of his conscience by the blessed absolving hand of the priest; he was training up Briney for the Mission, and though last, not least, he was--far gone in his seventh tumbler!

”Come, jinteels,” said he, ”spare nothing here--there's las.h.i.+ngs of every thing; thrate yourselves dacent, and don't be saying tomorrow or next day, that ever my father's son was nagerly. Death alive, Father Con, what are you doin'? Why, then, bad manners to me if that'll sarve, any how.”

”Phaddhy,” replied Father Con, ”I a.s.sure you I have done my duty.”

”Very well, Father Con, granting all that, it's no sin to repate a good turn you know. Not a word I'll hear, yer Reverence--one tumbler along with myself, if it was only for ould times.” He then filled Father Con's tumbler with his own hand, in a truly liberal spirit. ”Arrah, Father Con, do you remember the day we had the leapin'-match, and the bout at the shoulder-stone?”

”Indeed, I'll not forget it, Phaddhy.”

”And it's yourself that may say that; but I bleeve I rubbed the consate off of your Reverence--only that's betune ourselves, you persave.”

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