he
uninitiated knew nothing. The square, the line, the trowel, were not
wanting, and the hammer was lying in front of the chair. Labour, however,
was over, and the time for refreshment having arrived, each of the stony
brotherhood had a flagon before him; and when we mention that the Saints
were Irish, and that St. Patrick in person was in the chair, it is not to
be wondered at that the mitres, in some instances, hung rather loosely on
the side of the heads of some of the canonized compotators. Among the
company were found St. Senanus of Limerick, St. Declan of Ardmore, St.
Canice of Kilkenny, St. Finbar of Cork, St. Michan of Dublin, St. Brandon
of Kerry, St. Fachnan of Ross, and others of that holy brotherhood; a
vacant place, which completed the four-and-twentieth, was left for St.
Colman, who, as every body knows, is of Cloyne; and he, having taken his
seat, addressed the president, to inform him that he had brought the man.
The man (viz. Larry himself) was awestruck with the company in which he
so unexpectedly found himself; and trembled all over when, on the notice
of his guide, the eight-and-forty eyes of stone were turned directly upon
himself. "You have just nicked the night to a shaving, Larry," said St.
Patrick: "this is our chapter-night, and myself and brethren are here
'assembled on merry occasion.'--You know who I am?" "God bless your
reverence," said Larry, "it's I that do well. Often did I see your
picture hanging over the door of places where it is"--lowering his
voice--"pleasanter to be than here, buried under an ould church." "You
may as well say it out, Larry," said St. Patrick; "and don't think I'm
going to be angry with you about it; for I was once flesh and blood
myself. But you remember, the other night, saying that you would think
nothing of pulling your master out of purgatory, if you could get at him
there, and appealing to me to stand by your words.

"Y-e-e-s," said Larry, most mournfully; for he recollected the
significant look he had received from the picture. "And," continued St.
Patrick, "you remember also that I gave you a wink, which you know is as
good, any day, as a nod--at least, to a blind horse." "I'm sure, your
reverence," said Larry, with a beating heart, "is too much of a gintleman
to hould a poor man hard to every word he may say of an evening, and
therefore"--"I was thinking so," said the saint, "I guessed you'd prove a
poltroon when put to the push. What do you think, my bret