ve and charity in
wine!

I said he sung a good song. Now though psalms are good songs, and in
accordance with his vocation, I did not mean to imply that he was a mere
psalm-singer. It was well known to the brethren, that wherever Father
Cuddy was, mirth and melody were with him. Mirth in his eye, and melody on
his tongue; and these, from experience, are equally well known to be
thirsty commodities; but he took good care never to let them run dry. To
please the brotherhood, whose excellent wine pleased him, he sung, and as
"_in vino veritas_," his song will well become this veritable history.

"O, 'tis eggs are a treat
When so while and so sweet
From under the manger they're taken;
And by fair Margery,
Och! 'tis she's full of glee,
They are fried with fat rashers of bacon.

"Just like daisies all spread
O'er a broad sunny mead
In the sun-beams so beauteously shining,
Are fried eggs, well displayed
On a dish, when we've laid
The cloth, and are thinking of dining."

Such was his song. Father Cuddy smacked his lips at the recollection of
Margery's delicious fried eggs, which always imparted a peculiar relish to
his liquor. The very idea provoked Cuddy to raise the cup to his mouth,
and, with one hearty pull thereat, he finished its contents.

This is, and ever was, a censorious world, often construing what is only a
fair allowance into excess; but I scorn to reckon up any man's drink like
an unrelenting host; therefore, I cannot tell how many brimming draughts
of wine, bedecked with _the venerable Bead_, Father Cuddy emptied into his
"soul-case," so he figuratively termed the body.

His respect for the goodly company of the monks of Irelagh detained him
until adjournment to vespers, when he set forward on his return to
Innisfallen. Whether his mind was occupied in philosophic contemplation or
wrapped in pious musings, I cannot declare; but the honest father wandered
on in a different direction from that in which his shallop lay. Far be it
from me to insinuate that the good liquor, which he had so commended, had
caused him to forget his road, or that his track was irregular and
unsteady. Oh, no!--he carried his drink bravely, as became a decent man
and a good Christian; yet, somehow, he thought he could distinguish two
moons. "Bless my eyes," said Father Cuddy, "everything is changing
now-a-days!--the very stars are not in the same places they used to be; I
think _Camceachta_