ut it's the blessed truth that the dog, afther jist
tasting the salmon, and spitting it out again, lifted his nose out o'
the plate, and stood wid his jaws wathering, and his tail wagging,
looking up in his Riv'rence's face, as much as to say, "Give me your
absolution, till I hide them temptations out o' my sight."

"There's a dog that knows his duty," says his Riv'rence; "there's a
baste that knows how to conduct himself aither in the parlour or the
field. You think him a good dog, looking at him here; but I wisht you
seen him on the side ov Slieve-an-Eirin! Be my soul, you'd say the hill
was running away from undher him. Oh I wisht you had been wid me," says
he, never letting on to see the dog at all, "one day, last Lent, that I
was coming from mass. Spring was near a quarther ov a mile behind me,
for the childher was delaying him wid bread and butther at the chapel
door; when a lump ov a hare jumped out ov the plantations ov Grouse
Lodge and ran acrass the road; so I gev the whilloo, and knowing that
she'd take the rise ov the hill, I made over the ditch, and up through
Mullaghcashel as hard as I could pelt, still keeping her in view, but
afore I had gone a perch, Spring seen her, and away the two went like
the wind, up Drumrewy, and down Clooneen, and over the river, widout his
being able ons't to turn her. Well, I run on till I come to the
Diffagher, and through it I went, for the wather was low and I didn't
mind being wet shod, and out on the other side, where I got up on a
ditch, and seen sich a coorse as I'll be bound to say was never seen
afore or since. If Spring turned that hare ons't that day, he turned her
fifty times, up and down, back and for'ard throughout and about. At last
he run her right into the big quarryhole in Mullaghbawn, and when I went
up to look for her fud, there I found him sthretched on his side, not
able to stir a foot, and the hare lying about an inch afore his nose as
dead as a door-nail, and divil a mark of a tooth upon her. Eh, Spring,
isn't that thrue?" says he. Jist at that minit the clock sthruck twelve,
and, before you could say thrap-sticks, Spring had the plateful of mate
consaled. "Now," says his Riv'rence, "hand me over my pound, for I've
won my bate fairly."

"You'll excuse me," says the Pope, pocketing his money, "for we put the
clock half an hour back, out ov compliment to your Riv'rence," says he,
"and it was Sathurday morning afore he came up at all."

"Well, it's no ma