ee wives
upon getting a bit of money with each, and received this answer:--

'Well, your reverence, I did not do badly at all, but between the
weddings and the funerals, your reverence took care it was not all clear
profit.'

There is plenty of hard barter about the terms of these ceremonies, and
on one occasion at Brosna, when the curate stood out for three pounds as
his fee for performing the marriage service, the would-be bridegroom
held out a thirty shilling note, saying:--

'Marry yourself to this, your reverence, and we'll be happy with your
blessing.'

As the persuasive eloquence of another man could not abate the price
which his priest demanded for a funeral, he blurted out:--

'Why, the blessed corpse in purgatory would shiver at the thought of
costing so much to put away, and we but poor folk, with the pig that
contrary we don't know whether the litter will survive.'

Here is a fish story connected with a member of my own family, Miss
Clarissa Hussey, who was my aunt, and also a pious Roman Catholic. She
used to hospitably entertain her confessor Father Tom, a priest with a
keen appreciation of the good things of the table. Among his
parishioners it was known that he indicated the value he put on the
coming fare by the length of his preliminary grace.

On a certain Friday in Lent he dined with her, and on a huge dish being
put down in front of his hostess, he expected a fine salmon, and
shutting his eyes proceeded to pronounce a benediction the length of
which greatly gratified my aunt. On the cover being removed, however,
his face fell, and in severe tones he rebuked her:--

'Was it for bake, ma'am, that I offered up the full grace?'

Nor could he be appeased all through the meal.

That leads me to relate the funeral sermon delivered by a clergyman on a
lady who had died suddenly at her morning meal:--

'You all, dear brethren, well know the loss we have sustained in our
departed sister. She was ever alert and kindly, ever bountiful though
without extravagance. To the last she preserved her characteristics. On
the fatal morning of her removal from among us, she rose as usual and
came to the family breakfast-table. With no premonition of what was to
come she took her egg-spoon and cracked her egg, an egg laid by one of
her own hens. In another moment failure of the heart transferred her to
a higher sphere. She began that egg on earth, she finished it in
heaven.'

CHAPTER XIII

CONSTABULA