r---from one of the best botanists in
the three kingdoms; certainly from the best Irish botanist living--my
friend, Mr Mackay, of the College Botanic Gardens. My lord, I wish you
good morning; but before I go, accept my thanks for your kindness to my
young friend. I assure you he will be a useful man; for he is even now
no indifferent casuist."

"And I, my lord," said Denis, "return you my most grateful--hem--my most
grateful--and--most supercilious thanks for the favor--the stupendous
favor you have conferred upon me."

"God bless you, my dear child," returned the bishop; "but if you be
advised by me, speak more intelligibly. Use plain words, and discard all
difficult and pedantic expressions. God bless you! Farewell!"

On coming down, they found old Denis in the stable-yard in rather a
ridiculous kind of harness. The saddle that had been on the colt was
strapped about him with the bridle, for both had been borrowed from a
neighbor.

"Dionnisis an' I must both ride the same horse," said he, "an' as we
have two saddles, I must carry one of them."

An altercation then ensued as to which should ride foremost. The son,
now in high glee, insisted on the father's taking the seat of honor; but
the father would not hear of this. The lad was, in his opinion, at least
semi-clerical, and to ride behind would be a degradation to so learned
a youth. They mounted at length, the son foremost, and the father on the
crupper, the saddle strapped about him, with the stirrups dangling by
the horse's flanks. Father Finnerty, who accompanied them, could not,
however, on turning from the bishop's grounds into the highway, get a
word out of them. The truth is, both their hearts were full; both were,
therefore, silent, and thought every minute an hour until they reached
home.

This was but natural. A man may conceal calamity or distress even from
his dearest friends; for who is there who wishes to be thrust back from
his acknowledged position in life? Or who, when he is thrust back, will
not veil his misfortunes or his errors with the guise of indifference or
simulation? In good fortune we act differently. It is a step advanced;
an elevation gained; there is nothing to fear, or to be ashamed of, and
we are strongly prompted by vanity to proclaim it to the world, as we
are by pride to ascribe its occurrence to our own talents or virtues.
There are other and purer motives for this. The affections will not be
still; they seek the hearts to