"Here, your Rivirence," replies a voice from the depth of the crowd.

"Come up here, Shawn, 'till I examine you about your Catechism and
docthrines."

A rough-headed fellow elbowed his way slowly through the congregation, and
moulding his old hat into a thousand grotesque shapes, between his huge
palms, presented himself before his pastor, with very much the air of a
puzzled philosopher.

"Well, Shawn, my boy, do you know what is the meaning of Faith?"

"Parfictly, your Rivirence," replied the fellow, with a knowing grin.
"Faith means when Paddy Hogan gives me credit for half-a-pint of the
best."

"Get out of my sight, you ondaycent vagabond; you're a disgrace to my
flock. Here, you Tom M'Gawley, what's Charity?"

"Bating a process-sarver, your Rivirence," replied Tom, promptly.

"Oh! blessed saints! how I'm persecuted with ye, root and branch. Jim
Houlaghan, I'm looking at you, there, behind Peggy Callanane's cloak; come
up here, you hanging _bone slieveen_[5] and tell me what is the Last Day?"

[5] A sly rogue.

"I didn't come to that yet, sir," replied Jim, scratching his head.

"I wouldn't fear you, you bosthoon. Well, listen, and I'll tell you. It's