only difference between
you is, that you are fat and lazy by toleration, whereas the others are
fat and lazy by authority. You are fat and lazy on your ould horses,
jogging about from house to house, and stuffing yourselves either at the
table of other people's parishioners, or in your own convents in Dublin
and elsewhere. They are rich, bloated gluttons, going about in their
coaches, and wallying in wealth. Now, we are the golden mean, Frank,
that live upon a little, and work hard for it.'

"'Why, you cormorant,' says the friar, a little nettled, for the dhrop
was beginning to get up into his head, 'sure if we're fat by toleration,
we're only tolerably fat, my worthy secular!'

"'You see,' says the friar, in a whisper to my uncle, 'how I sobered
them in the larning, and they are good scholars for all that, but not
near so deep read as myself.' 'Michael,' says he, 'now that I think on
it--sure I'm to be at Denis O'Flaherty's Month's mind on Thursday next.'

"'Indeed I would not doubt you,' says Father Corrigan; 'you wouldn't be
apt to miss it.'

"'Why, the widdy Flaherty asked me yesterday, and I think that's proof
enough that I'm not going unsent for.'

"By this time the company was hard and fast at the punch, the songs, and
the dancing. The dinner had been cleared off, except what was before
the friar, who held out wonderfully, and the beggars and shulers were
clawing and scoulding one another about the divide. The dacentest of
us went into the house for a while, taking the fiddler with us, and the
rest, with the piper, staid on the green to dance, where they were soon
joined by lots of the counthry people, so that in a short time there was
a large number entirely. After sitting for some time within, Mary and I
began, you may be sure, to get unasy, sitting palavering among a parcel
of ould sober folks; so, at last, out we slipped, and the few other
dacent young people that were with us, to join the dance, and shake our
toe along with the rest of them. When we made our appearance, the flure
was instantly cleared for us, and then she and I danced the _Humors of
Glin_.

"Well, it's no matter--it's all past now, and she lies low; but I may
say that it wasn't very often danced in better style since, I'd wager.
Lord, bless us, what a drame the world is! The darling of my heart you
war, avourneen machree. I think I see her with the modest smile upon her
face, straight, and fair, and beautiful, and--hem--and when the d