"Well, I'll tell you what I'm thinking I'll be apt to do, Phaddhy, when
I'm a clargy."

"And what is that, Briney?"

"Why, I'll--but, Phaddhy,don't be talking of this, bekase, if it should
come to be known, I might get my brains knocked out by some of the
heretics."

"Never fear, Briney, there's no danger of that--but what is it?"

"Why, I'll translate all the Protestants into asses, and then we'll get
our hands red of them altogether."

"Well, that flogs for cuteness, and it's a wondher the clargy* doesn't
do it, and them has the power; for 'twould give us pace entirely. But,
Briney, will you speak in Latin to Father Philemy on Thursday?"

* I have no hesitation in asserting that the bulk of the uneducated
peasantry really believe that the priests have this power.

"To tell you the thruth, Phaddhy, I would rather he wouldn't examine me
this bout, at all at all."

"Ay, but you know we couldn't go agin him, Briney, bekase he promised
to get you into the college. Will you speak some Latin, now till I hear
you?"

"Hem!--_Verbum personaley cohairit cum nomnatibo numbera at persona at