knife and fork
but himself. In the morning, when the family were to be seen around
the kitchen table at their plain but substantial breakfast, Denis was
lording it in solitary greatness over an excellent breakfast of tea and
eggs in another room.
It was now, too, that the king's English, as well as the mutton, was
carved and hacked to some purpose; epithets prodigiously long and
foreign to the purpose were pressed into his conversation, for no other
reason than because those to whom he spoke could not understand them;
but the principal portion of his time was devoted to study. The bishop,
he had heard, was a sound scholar, and exceedingly scrupulous in
recommending any to Maynooth, except such as were well versed in the
preparatory course. Independently of this, he was anxious, he said, to
distinguish himself in his examination, and, if possible, to sustain
as high a character with the bishop and his fellow-students, as he did
among the peasantry of his own neighborhood.
At length the day approached. The bishop's residence was not distant
more than a few hours' ride, and he would have sufficient time to arrive
there, pass his examination, and return in time for dinner. On the eve
of his departure, old Denis invited Father Finnerty, his curate and
about a dozen relations and friends, to dine with him the next day;
when--Denis having surmounted the last obstacle to the accomplishment of
his hopes--their hearts could open without a single reflection to check
the exuberance of their pride, hospitality, and happiness.
I have often said to my friends, and I now repeat it in print, that
after all there is no people bound up so strongly to each other by the
ties of domestic life as the Irish. On the night which preceded this
joyous and important day, a spirit of silent but tender affection dwelt
in every heart of the O'Shaughnessys. The great point of interest was
Denis. He himself was serious, and evidently labored under that strong
anxiety so natural to a youth in his circumstances. A Roman Catholic
bishop, too, is a personage looked upon by the people with a kind of
feeling that embodies in it awe, reverence, and fear. Though, in this
country, an humble man possessing neither the rank in society,
outward splendor, nor the gorgeous profusion of wealth and pomp
which characterize a prelate of the Established Church; yet it is
unquestionable that the gloomy dread, and sense of formidable power with
which they impress the
|