he Bible."

"Me an enemy to the Bible! no such thing, sir; but, Captain, begging
your pardon we will have nothing more about the bible; you see we are
met here, as friends and good fellows, to enjoy ourselves after the
severity of our spiritual duties, and we must relax a little; we can't
always carry long faces like Methodist parsons--come, Pairah More, let
the Bible take a nap, and give us a song."

His Reverence was now seconded in his motion by the most of all present,
and Parrah More accordingly gave them a song. After a few songs more,
the conversation went on as before.

"Now, Parrah More," said Phaddhy, "you must try my wine; I hope it's as
good as what you gave his Reverence yesterday." The words, however, had
scarcely passed his lips, when Father Philemy burst out into a fit
of laughter, clapping and rubbing his hands in a manner the most
irresistible. "Oh, Phaddhy, Phaddhy!" shouted his Reverence, laughing
heartily, "I done you for once--I done you, my man, cute as you thought
yourself: why, you nager you, did you think to put us off with punch,
and you have a stocking of hard guineas hid in a hole in the wall?"

"What does yer Rev'rence mane," said Phaddhy; "for myself can make no
understanding out of it, at all at all?"

To this his Reverence only replied by another laugh.

"I gave his Reverence no wine," said Parrah More, in reply to Phaddhy's
question.

"What!" said Phaddhy, "none yesterday, at the station held with you?"

"Not a bit of me ever thought of it."

"Nor no mutton?"

"Why, then, devil a morsel of mutton, Phaddhy; but we had a rib of
beef."

Phaddhy now looked over to his Reverence rather sheepishly, with the
smile of a man on his face who felt himself foiled. "Well, yer Reverence
has done me, sure enough," he replied, rubbing his head--"I give it up
to you, Father Philemy; but any how, I'm glad I got it, and you're all
welcome from the core of my heart. I'm only sorry I haven't as much more
now to thrate you all like gintlemen; but there's some yet, and as much
punch as will make all our heads come round."

Our readers must assist us with their own imaginations, and suppose the
conversation to have passed very pleasantly, and the night, as well
as the guests, to be somewhat far gone. The principal part of the
conversation was borne by the three clergymen, Captain Wilson, and
Phaddy; that of the two nephews and Peter Malone ran in an under current
of its own; and in the preceding