nscious of his own dishonesty, and its detection, he felt his bad
passions overpower him.

"You must," said the priest, whose anger was now excited by his
extraordinary assurance--"you must renounce their religion, you must
renounce M'Slime and Lucre--their flitches, flannels, and friezes. You
must--"

"Beggin' your pardon," said Darby, "I never received any of their
flitches or their flannels. I don't stand in need of them--it's an
enlightened independent convart I am."

"Well, then," continued the priest, "you must burn their tracts and
their treatises, their books and Bibles of every description, and return
to your own church."

"To become acquainted," replied Darby, "with that piece o' doctrine
in your hand there? Faith and I feel the truth o' that as it is, your
reverence; and it is yourself that can bring it home to one. But, why,
wid submission, don't you imitate Father Roche? By me sowl, I tell you
to your face, that so long; as you take your divinity from the saddler's
shop, so long you will have obedient men, but indifferent Catholics."

"What!" replied M'Cabe, in a rage, "do you dare to use such language to
my face--a reprobate--a brazen contumacious apostate! I've had this
in for you; and now (here he gave him a round half dozen) go off to
M'Slime, and Lucre, and Lord------, and when you see them, tell them
from me, that if they don't give up perverting my flock, I'll give them
enough of their own game."

Darby's face got pale, with a most deadly expression of rage--an
expression, indeed, so very different from that cringing, creeping one
which it usually wore, that M'Cabe, on looking at him, felt startled, if
not awed, intrepid and exasperated as he was. Darby stood and looked at
him coldly, but, at the same time, with unflinching fearlessness in the
face.

"You have done it," he said, "and I knew you would. Now, listen to
me--are you not as aiger to make convarts as either M'Slime or Lucre?"

"You will have it again, you scoundrel," said the curate, approaching
him with uplifted whip.

"Stand back," said Darby, "I've jist got all I wanted--stand back, or by
all the vestments ever you wore, if your whip only touches my body,
as light as if it wouldn't bend a feather, I'll have you in heaven, or
purgatory, before you can cry 'God forgive me.'"

The other still advanced, and was about to let the whip fall, when Darby
stretched his right hand before him, holding a cocked and loaded pistol
presente