wn?"

"For the money, sirra; I have seven o' them, and we'll all go. You
may christen us if you wish, sirra. 'Deed I'm tould we must all be
christened over agin, an' in that case, maybe it 'ud be plaisin' to you
to stand godfather for me, yourself, your reverence."

"What do you mean?--but I suppose I understand you."

"I mean, sirra, to become a Protestan--I an' my family, I'm Nickey
Feasthalagh, that was in on suspicion o' the burnin' of Nugent's hay;
and by them five crasses I was as innocent of that as the child onborn,
so I was. Sure they couldn't prove an me, becoorse I came out wid flying
colors, glory be to God! Here I am now, sir, an' a right good Prodestan
I'll make when I come to understand it. An' let me whisper this, sirra,
I'll be dam useful in fairs and markets to help the Orangemen to lick
ourselves, your honor, in a skrimmage or party fight, or anything o'
that kidney."

"I am sorry, Nick Fistula, as you say your name is--"

"Mickey, sirra."

"Well, Nickey, or Nick, or whatever it may be, I am sorry to say that
you won't do. You are too great an ornament to your own creed ever to
shine in ours. I happen to know your character--begone."

"Is Misthre Lucre widin?" asked a third candidate, whose wife
accompanied him--"if he is, maybe you'd tell him that one Barney Grattan
wishes to have a thrifle o' speech wid his honor."

"Come in," said the servant with a smile, after having acquainted his
master.

The man and his wife accordingly entered, having first wiped their feet
as they had been ordered.

"Well, my good man, what's your business."

"Rosha, will you let his honor know what we wor spakin' about? She'll
tell you, sir."

"Plaise your honor," said she, "we're convarts."

"Well," said Mr. Lucre, "that is at least coming to the point. And pray,
my good woman, who converted you?"

"Faix, the accounts that's abroad, sir, about the gintleman from Dublin,
that's so full of larnin', your reverance, and so rich, they say."

"Then it was the mere accounts that wrought this change in you?"

"_Dhamnu orth a Rosha, go dhe shin dher thu?_" said the husband in
Irish; for he felt that the wife was more explicit than was necessary.
"Never heed her, sir; the crathur, your reverence, is so through other,
that she doesn't know what she's sayin', especially spakin' to so
honorable a gentleman as your reverence."

"Then let us hear your version, or rather your conversion."

"Myself, sir, does be thin