protestations of innocence, turned almost naked from the house. When
peace was restored, a hymn was sung as an exorcism of the evil spirit
that had gotten among the assembly; when, being determined to exculpate
the poor postilion, I joined with all my force in the chorus, with my
Catholic "_Gloria in excelsis_," which I abruptly changed into
"Polly put the kettle on." Thus taken in the fact, I was, without
ceremony, denounced as an emissary from Clongowes, brought to Sourcraut
Hall by the Papist O'Gallagher, with a forged letter, to disturb the
community. I was immediately cross-examined by a religious attorney, as
if I had been a white-boy or a ribbon-man. "Come forward," he said, "you
bird of satan!--speak out, and answer for yourself, for its yourself can
do it, you egg of the devil! What brought you here?" I answered, "It was
all for my sweet sowl's sake, jewel!"--and the answer decided my fate,
without more to do. And now loaded with all the reproaches that the
_odium theologicum_ could suggest, I was cuffed, hunted, and
finally driven out of the gates by the serious coachman, to perish on
the highway. On recovering from my fright, I found myself at the edge
of a dry ditch, where the poor shivering postilion sat lamenting his
martyrdom. I went up to him, cowering and chattering; and at the sight
of me the tears dried on his dirty cheeks--his sobs changed to a laugh
of delight; and when I hopped on his wrist, and cried "Poor Pat," all
his sufferings were forgotten. While thus occupied, a little carriage,
drawn by a superb horse, with the reins thrown loose on his beautiful
neck, ascended the hill. At the sight I screamed out "Get along out of
that!" which so frightened the high-blooded creature that he started,
and flung the two persons in the carriage fairly into the middle of the
road. One of them, in a military dress, sprung at once on his feet, and
laying the whip across the naked shoulders of the postilion, exclaimed,
"I'll teach you, you little villain, to break people's necks." "Oh!
murther! murther!" cried the poor boy, "shure, it was not me, plase