"'Oh! Morieen!' says he, after looking awhile at them, 'what white legs
you have got!'

"'Have I?' says she, laughing, 'and how do _you_ know that?'

"Immediately the Saint remimbered himself, and being full of remorse and
conthrition for his fault, he laid his commands upon the well, that its
water should never wash anything white again.--and, as I mentioned before,
all the soap in Ireland wouldn't raise a lather on it since. Now that's
the thrue histhory of St. Fineen's blessed well; and I hope and thrust it
will be a saysonable and premonitory lesson to all the young men that
hears me, not to fall into the vaynial sin of admiring the white legs of
the girls."

As soon as his reverence paused, a buzz of admiration ran through the
chapel, accompanied by that peculiar rapid noise made by the lower class
of an Irish Roman Catholic congregation, when their feelings of awe,
astonishment, or piety, are excited by the preacher.[4]

[4] This sound, which is produced by a quick motion of the tongue
against the teeth and roof of the mouth, may be expressed thus;
"tth, tth, tth, tth, tth."

Father Frank having taken breath, and wiped his forehead, resumed his
address.

"I'm going to change my subject now, and I expect attintion. Shawn Barry!
Where's Shawn Barry?"