s everything."

"Ay, to be sure he does; all the languages' that's spoken through the
world, Phaddhy."

"And must all the priests know them, Briney?--how many are they?"

"Seven--sartainly, every priest must know them, or how could they lay
the divil, if he'd, spake to them in a tongue they couldn't understand,
Phaddhy?"

"Ah, I declare, Briney, I see it now; only for that, poor Father Philip,
the heavens be his bed, wouldn't be able to lay ould Warnock, that
haunted Squire Sloethorn's stables."

"Is that when the two horses was stole, Phaddhy?"

"The very time, Briney; but God be thanked, Father Philip settled him to
the day of judgment."

"And where did he put him, Phaddhy?"

"Why, he wanted to be put anundher the hearth-stone; but Father Philip
made him walk away with himself into a thumb-bottle, and tied a stone
to it, and then sent him to where he got a cooling, the thief, at the
bottom of the lough behind the house."

"Well, I'll tell you what I'm thinking I'll be apt to do, Phaddhy, when
I'm a clargy."

"And what is that, Briney?"

"Why, I'll--but, Phaddhy,don't be talking of this, bekase, if it should
come to be known, I might get my brains knocked out by some of the
heretics."

"Never fear, Briney, there's no danger of that--but what is it?"

"Why, I'll translate all the Protestants into asses, and then we'll get
our hands red of them altogether."

"Well, that flogs for cuteness, and it's a wondher the clargy* doesn't
do it, and them has the power; for 'twould give us pace entirely. But,
Briney, will you speak in Latin to Father Philemy on Thursday?"

* I have no hesitation in asserting that the bulk of the uneducated
peasantry really believe that the priests have this power.

"To tell you the thruth, Phaddhy, I would rather he wouldn't examine me
this bout, at all at all."

"Ay, but you know we couldn't go agin him, Briney, bekase he promised
to get you into the college. Will you speak some Latin, now till I hear
you?"

"Hem!--_Verbum personaley cohairit cum nomnatibo numbera at persona at
numquam sera yeast at bonis moras voia_."

"Bless my heart!--and, Briney, where's that taken from?"

"From Syntax, Phaddhy."

"And who was Syntax--do you know, Briney?"

"He was a Roman, Phaddhy, bekase there's a Latin prayer in the beginning
of the book."

"Ay, was he--a priest, I'll warrant him. Well, Briney, do you mind yer
Latin, and get on wid yer larnin', and when you grow up you'll have