maybe expec' it of thim to be throublin' thimselves talkin' fine for the
pack of us, as ignorant as dirt, in the middle of th'ould bog."

And his wife said, "'Deed, now, I wouldn't won'er meself if the raison
was his Riverence 'ud think bad of usin' his Latin words for anythin'
else on'y prayers and such. It might be somethin' the same as if he went
and took his grand vistments to go dig pitaties in; and that 'ud be a
great sin, God knows."

But old Felix, who was, as we have seen, a rather touchy person,
construed this suggestion into an implied censure on his own wishes in
the matter, and he said, huffily--

"Sorra the talk of sin I see in it at all, ma'am. 'Tis a dale liker they
just couldn't get out wid it convanient offhand. The same way that I'd
aisy enough bate out a shoe on me anvil there, when it's bothered I'd be
if you axed me to make a one promiscuous here of a suddint on the
roadside."

Mr. Polymathers himself meanwhile was perhaps dimly conscious that he
had disappointed hopes, and failed to rise duly to the occasion; and
this may have been why he slipped indoors, and fetched out a small book
he had never produced before, bound in a dingy greenish blue, with a
white paper label.

"D'you know what that is, sir?" he questioned, rhetorically, handing it
to Felix O'Beirne. "It's the Calendar, let me tell you, of the College
of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, _juxta_ Dublin. There's a print of
the Front of the Buildings attached to the fly-leaf. I'm after pickin'
it up this spring at Moynalone. 'Twas new the year before last, and
comprises a dale of information relative to terms, examinations, fees,
and so forth."

"Begor, then, it looks to be a wide house," said Felix, confining
himself to the picture as a comprehensible point. "It's apt to be an
oncommon fine place, sir, I should suppose."

"You may say that, me man," said Mr. Polymathers, emphatically. "Not its
match in the kingdom of Ireland. The home of literature and the haunt
of science. And it's there I'll be, plase God, next October."

"Musha, and will you be thravellin' that far--to Dublin?" said Felix.

"Ay will I, and would have gone last month on'y for the fever delayin'
me till after the midsummer entrance. Me savin's amount to somethin'
over thirty pound, so I may venture on the step, and prisint meself at
the Michaelmas term. In short," said Mr. Polymathers, re-poising himself
upon his rickety stool, "I might describe myself as an un