"What's _ligdum saucerdoatis_, Briney?"

"A block of a priest, Phaddhy."

"Now, Briney, I suppose Father Philemy knows everything."

"Ay, to be sure he does; all the languages' that's spoken through the
world, Phaddhy."

"And must all the priests know them, Briney?--how many are they?"

"Seven--sartainly, every priest must know them, or how could they lay
the divil, if he'd, spake to them in a tongue they couldn't understand,
Phaddhy?"

"Ah, I declare, Briney, I see it now; only for that, poor Father Philip,
the heavens be his bed, wouldn't be able to lay ould Warnock, that
haunted Squire Sloethorn's stables."

"Is that when the two horses was stole, Phaddhy?"

"The very time, Briney; but God be thanked, Father Philip settled him to
the day of judgment."

"And where did he put him, Phaddhy?"

"Why, he wanted to be put anundher the hearth-stone; but Father Philip
made him walk away with himself into a thumb-bottle, and tied a stone
to it, and then sent him to where he got a cooling, the thief, at the
bottom of the lough behind the house."