of severity from his heavy overhanging eyebrows, and
there was a stern determination in his compressed lips that every moment
gave way to some burst of jocular good-humour, as he accosted one or
other of his friends. His voice, however, was the most remarkable thing
about him; for while at one moment he would declaim in the full round
tone of a person accustomed to speak in public, in the next he would
drop down into an easy and familiar accent, to which the mellowness of
his brogue imparted a raciness quite peculiar. His dress was a suit of
rusty black, with leather breeches of the same colour, and high boots.
This costume, which pronounced him a priest, might also, had I known
more of the country, have explained the secrets of that universal
understanding he maintained with all on board. He knew every one's
business, whither they were going, where they had been, what success had
attended them in the market, how much the black heifer brought, what the
pigs were sold for; he asked why Tim didn't come to his duties, and
if Molly's child was well of the measles; he had a word too for the
shopkeeper's wife, but that was said in a whisper; and then producing a
copper snuff-box, about the size of a saucer, he presented it to me with
a graceful bow, saying--

'This is not the first time I have had the honour of being your
fellow-traveller, Captain. We came over from Liverpool together.'

I now remembered that this was the same priest whose controversial
powers had kept me awake for nearly half the night, and whose convivial
ones filled up the remainder. I was delighted, however, to renew my
acquaintance, and we soon cemented an intimacy, which ended in his
proposing that we should sit together at dinner, to which I at once
assented.

'Dacent people, dacent people, Captain; but _bastes_, after all, in the
ways of the world--none of the _usage de societe_, as we used to say
at St. Omer's. No, no; _ferae naturae_, devil a more. But here comes the
dinner; the ould story--leg of mutton and turnips, boiled chickens and
ham, a cod and potatoes! By the Mass, they would boil one's father if
they had him on board,' while he added in a whisper--'by rason they
can't roast! So now, will you move down, if you please?'

'After your reverence, if you'll permit. _Arma cedant togae_.'

'Thrue for you, my son, _sacerdotes priores_; and though I am only a
priest----'

'More's the pity,' said I, interrupting.

'You're right,' said he, wit