part of the night, those who occupied
the bottom of the table, spoke to each other rather in whispers, being
too much restrained by that rustic bashfulness which ties up the tongues
of those who feel that their consequence is overlooked among their
superiors. According as the punch circulated, however, their diffidence
began to wear off; and occasionally an odd laugh or so might be heard
to break the monotony of their silence. The youngsters, too, though at
first almost in a state of terror, soon commenced plucking each other;
and a titter, or a suppressed burst of laughter, would break forth from
one of the more waggish, who was put to a severe task in afterwards
composing his countenance into sufficient gravity to escape detection,
and a competent portion of chastisement the next day, for not being able
to "behave himself with betther manners."

During these juvenile breaches of decorum, Katty would raise her arm
in a threatening attitude, shake her head at them, and look up at the
clergy, intimating more by her earnestness of gesticulation than met
the ear. Several songs again went round, of which, truth to tell,
Father Philomy's were by far the best; for he possessed a rich, comic
expression of eye, which, added to suitable ludicrousness of gesture,
and a good voice, rendered him highly amusing to the company. Father
Con declined singing, as being decidedly serious, though he was often
solicited.

"He!" said Father Philemy, "he has no more voice than a woolpack;
but Con's a cunning fellow. What do you think, Captain Wilson, but
he pretends to be too pious to sing, and gets credit for piety,--not
because he is devout, but because he has a bad voice; now, Con, you
can't deny it, for there's not a man in the three kingdoms knows it
better than myself; you sit there with a face upon you that might go
before the Lamentations of Jeremiah the Prophet, when you ought to be as
jovial as another."

"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 Bri