his monks to say a thousand craydos, an'
two thousand paters an' aves, an' afther that was done, he got in his boat
an' crassed the lake. He climbed up to his bed above ye there, an' said
his baids agin an' went to slape, but the divil was watchin' him like a
hawk, for he'd laid a thrap fur the blessed saint to catch him wid, that
was thish-a-way.

"Every body knows how that Satan is shlicker than a weasel, an' has a
mem'ry like a miser's box that takes in everything an' lets nothin' go
out. When ye do anything, sorra a bit av it 'scapes the divil, an' he hugs
it clost till a time comes when he can make a club av it to bate ye wid,
an' so he does. The owld felly remimbered all that passed betune Kathleen
an' the blessed saint, an' he knewn how hard it was fur Saint Kevin to
forgit her, so he thought he'd put him in a fix. Afther the saint had
cuddled up in his shtraw wid his cloak over him an' was shnoring away as
snug as a flea in a blanket, comes the divil, a-climbin' up the rock, in
the exact image o' the young Kathleen. Ye may think it quare, but it's no
wondher to thim that undherstands it, fur the divil can take any shape he
plazes an' look like any wan he wants to, an' so he does for the purpose
av temptin' us poor sinners to disthruction, but there's wan thing be
which he's always known; when ye've given up to him or when ye've baten
him out o' the face, no matther which, he's got to throw aff the disguise
that's on him an' show you who he is, an' when he does it, it isn't the
iligant, dressed-up divil that ye see an' that I was just tellin' ye av,
but the rale, owld, black nagur av a rannychorus, widout a haporth o' rags
to the back av him, an' his horns an' tail a-shtickin' out, an' his eyes
as big as an oxen's an' shinin' like fire, an' great bat's wings on him,
an', savin' yer prisince, the most nefairius shmell o' sulfur ye ever
shmelt. But before, he looks all right, no matther phat face he has, an'
it's only be the goodness o' God that the divil is bound fur to show
himself to ye, bekase, Glory be to God, it's his will that men shall know
who they're dalin' wid, an' if they give up to the divil, an' afther
findin' out who's in it, go on wid the bargain they've made, sure the
fault is their own, an' they go to hell wid their eyes open, an' if they
bate him, he's got to show himself fur to let thim see phat they've
escaped.

"Well, I was afther sayin', the divil was climbin' up the rock in the form
o' Kat