him very much. Whether his conduct
proceeded from audacity, or shear simplicity, he felt unable to
determine, from anything that he could see in Darby's imperturbable
features.

"What is your business with me now? asked the prelate.

"Why, your Lordship," replied Darby, "I've made out a couple of
proserlytes, that will be a credit to our blessed Establishment, as soon
as they're convarted. One of them, my Lord, is called Barney Butther,
an' the other Tom Whiskey, in regard of--"

"Go about your business, sir," replied the prelate, reddening with
indignation; "begone."

"I will, my Lord; only, my Lord, just before I go--about the Undher
Gaolership?"

"Your appointment to it is cancelled," replied the other, "for many
reasons; you avoided prosecuting that wild priest."

"But sure I said, my Lord, that when I'd get into my situation--"

"Your appointment to it is cancelled, I repeat; the fact is, O'Drive, I
have too much regard for your morals and the advances you have recently
made in scriptural knowledge to place you in such a situation. It is
only some hardened sinner, some irreclaimable knave, and not an honest
man like you, that oughht to be appointed to such an office; the nature
of its duties would only draw you into bad habits and corrupt your
principles. The fact is, your very virtues and good qualities; prevent
you from getting it--for get it, you assuredly shall not."

"Is that your last detarmination, my Lord?"

"My last respecting that matter," replied the prelate.

"Then, upon my conscience," returned Darby, "according to that rule,
hell resave the ha'porth of the kind there was to prevent you from bein'
a bishop. I hear you're goin' up to Dublin to be consecrated, and be me
sowl, you want it; but I'd take my book oath that all the grace in your
church won't be able to consecrate you into thrue religion. The back o'
my hand to you, I say; for I hate everything that is ungrateful."

It often happens that a petty insult, coming from an unexpected source,
excites our indignation more than an offence from a higher quarter. The
new made prelate actually got black in the face, and giddy in the
head, with the furious fit of passion which seized him on hearing this
language from Darby.

In the meantime, we leave him to cool as best he can, and follow Darby
to Castle Cumber, where he thought it probable he might meet Father
M'Cabe; nor was he mistaken. He found that very zealous gentleman
superintendin