e now, be quiet, will ye! Here goes.
Peter, stand to me now and give me the word."

This admonition was addressed to a figure on a barrel behind the priest,
who, as well as the imperfect light would permit me to descry, was the
coadjutor of the parish, Peter Nolan. Silence being perfectly established,
Father Rush began:--

"When Mars, the god of war, on high,
Of battles first did think,
He girt his sword upon his thigh,
And--

and--what is't, Peter?"

"And mixed a drop of drink."

"And mixed a drop of drink," quoth Father Rush, with great emphasis; when
scarcely were the spoken words than a loud shout of laughter showed him his
mistake, and he overturned upon the luckless curate the full vial of his
wrath.

"What is it you mean, Father Peter? I'm ashamed of ye; faith, it's may be
yourself, not Mars, you are speaking of."

The roar of merriment around prevented me hearing what passed; but I could
see by Peter's gestures--for it was too dark to see his face--that he was
expressing deep sorrow for the mistake. After a little time, order was
again established, and Father Rush resumed:--

"But love drove battles from his head,
And sick of wounds and scars,
To Venus bright he knelt, and said--

and said--and said; what the blazes did he say?"

"I'll make you Mrs. Mars,"

shouted Peter, loud enough to be heard.

"Bad luck to you, Peter Nolan, it's yourself's the ruin of me this blessed
night! Here have I come four miles with my speech in my pocket, _per imbres
et ignes_." Here the crowd crossed themselves devoutly. "Ay, just so; and
he spoiled it for me entirely." At the earnest entreaty, however, of the
crowd, Father Rush, with renewed caution to his unhappy prompter, again
returned to the charge:

"Thus love compelled the god to yield
And seek for purer joys;
He laid aside his helm and shield,
And took--took--took--"

"And took to corduroys,"

cried Father Nolan.

This time, however, the good priest's patience could endure no more, and he
levelled a blow at his luckless colleague, which, missing his aim, lost him
his own balance, and brought him down from his eminence upon the heads of
the mob.

Scarcely had I recovered the perfect convulsion of laughter into which this
scene had thrown me, when the broad brim of Father Nolan's hat appeared at
the window of the carriage. Before I had time to address him, he took it
reverently from his head, di