which they tend; and having found them,
the mutual interchange of good takes place. Father Finnerty--whose
heart, though a kind one, had, probably, been too long out of practice
to remember the influence and working of the domestic affections--could
not comprehend the singular conduct of the two O'Shaughnessys.

"What the devil is the matter with you?" he inquired. "Have you lost the
use of your speech?"

"Push an' avourneen," said the father to Denis--"push an; lay the spur to
him. Isn't your spur on the right foot?"

"Most certainly," said Denis, now as pedantic as ever--"most certainly
it is. You are not to be informed that our family spur is a right-foot
spur."

"Well, then, Peter Gallagher's spur that I have an is a left-foot spur,
for it's an my left foot."

"You are a bright pair," said the priest, somewhat nettled at their
neglect of him--"you are a bright pair, and deeply learned in spurs.
Can't you ride asier?"

"Never heed him," said the father, in a whisper; "do you, give the mare
the right spur, an' I'll give her the left. Push an! that's it."

They accordingly dashed forwrard, Denis plying, one heel, and the father
another, until the priest found himself gradually falling behind.
In vain he plied both spurs; in vain he whipped, and wriggled on the
saddle, and pressed forwrard his hack. Being a priest's horse, the
animal had been accustomed for the last twelve years to a certain
jog-trot-pace, beyond which it neither would nor could go. On finding
all his efforts to overtake them unsuccessful, he at last shouted after
them.

"Do you call that gratitude, my worthy friends? To lave me creeping over
the ups and downs of this villanous road without company?"

"Lay an, aroon," said the father. "Let us get home. Oh, how your poor
mother will die with joy, an' Susy, an' Nanny, an' Brian, an' Michael,
an' Dick, an' Lanty, an' all o' them. Glory be to Heaven! what a meetin'
we'll have! An' the nabors, too! Push an' avick machree."

"My curse upon you, Friar Hennessy!" exclaimed the priest, in a
soliloquy, "it was you who first taught this four-footed snail to go
like a thief to the gallows. I wish to Heaven you had palmed him on some
one else, for many a dinner I have lost by him in my time. Is that your
gratitude, gentlemen? Do I deserve this?"

"What is he sayin'?" said the father.

"He is declaiming about gratitude," replied Denis.

"Lay-an' her," said the father. "Poor Mave!"

"Such conduct do