tried another,--it was no less excellent; and when he had swallowed the
third he found his heart expand, and put forth its fibres, as willing to
embrace all mankind! Surely then there is Christian love and charity in
wine!

I said he sung a good song. Now though psalms are good songs, and in
accordance with his vocation, I did not mean to imply that he was a mere
psalm-singer. It was well known to the brethren, that wherever Father
Cuddy was, mirth and melody were with him. Mirth in his eye, and melody on
his tongue; and these, from experience, are equally well known to be
thirsty commodities; but he took good care never to let them run dry. To
please the brotherhood, whose excellent wine pleased him, he sung, and as
"_in vino veritas_," his song will well become this veritable history.

"O, 'tis eggs are a treat
When so while and so sweet
From under the manger they're taken;
And by fair Margery,
Och! 'tis she's full of glee,
They are fried with fat rashers of bacon.

"Just like daisies all spread
O'er a broad sunny mead
In the sun-beams so beauteously shining,
Are fried eggs, well displayed
On a dish, when we've laid
The cloth, and are thinking of dining."


Such was his song. Father Cuddy smacked his lips at the recollection of