becoming dignity towards the abbey.

The stillness of the bright and balmy hour was broken by the heavy
footsteps of the zealous father: at the sound the startled deer, shaking
the dew from their sides, sprang up from their lair, and as they bounded
off, "Hah," exclaimed Cuddy, "what a noble haunch goes there!--how
delicious it would look smoking upon a goodly platter."

As he proceeded, the mountain bee hummed his tune of gladness around the
holy man, save when buried in the foxglove bell, or revelling upon a
fragrant bunch of thyme; and even then the little voice murmured out
happiness in low and broken tones of voluptuous delight. Father Cuddy
derived no small comfort from the sound, for it presaged a good metheglin
season; and metheglin he considered, if well manufactured, to be no bad
liquor, particularly when there was no stint or usquebaugh in the brewing.

Arrived within the abbey garth, he was received with due respect by the
brethren of Irelagh, and arrangements for the embarkation of the wine were
completed to his entire satisfaction.--"Welcome, Father Cuddy!" said the
prior, "grace be on you."

"Grace before meat then," said Cuddy, "for a long walk always makes me
hungry, and I am certain I have not walked less than half-a-mile this
morning, to say nothing of crossing the water."

A pasty of choice flavour felt the truth of this assertion as regarded
Father Cuddy's appetite. After such consoling repast, it would have been a
reflection on monastic hospitality to have departed without partaking of
the grace-cup; moreover, Father Cuddy had a particular respect for the
antiquity of that custom. He liked the taste of the grace-cup well; he