table, with his back to an immense fire. On his right hand sat Father
Con; on his left, Phaddhy himself, "to keep the-clargy company;" and,
in due succession after them, their friends and neighbors, each taking
precedence according to the most scrupulous notions of respectability.
Beside Father Con sat "Pettier Malone," a "young collegian," who had
been sent home from Maynooth to try his native air, for the recovery
of his health, which was declining. He arrived only a few minutes after
Father Philemy, and was a welcome reinforcement to Phaddhy, in the
arduous task of sustaining the conversation with suitable credit.

With respect to the breakfast, I can only say, that it was
superabundant--that the tea was as black as bog water--that there were
hen, turkey, and geese eggs--plates of toast soaked, crust and crumb, in
butter; and lest there might be a deficiency, one of the daughters sat
on a stool at the fire, with her open hand, by way of a fire screen,
across her red, half-scorched brows, toasting another plateful, and, to
crown all, on each corner of the table was a bottle of whiskey. At
the lower board sat the youngsters, under the surveillance of Katty's
sister, who presided in that quarter. When they were commencing
breakfast, "Father Philemy," said Katty, "won't yer Rev'rence bless the
mate (* food) if ye plase?"

"If I don't do it myself," said Father Philemy, who was just after
sweeping the top off a turkey egg, "I'll get them that will. Come," said
he to the collegian, "give us grace, Peter; you'll never learn younger."

This, however, was an unexpected blow to Peter, who knew that an
English grace would be incompatible with his "college feeding," yet was
unprovided with any in Latin--The eyes of the company were now
fixed upon him, and he blushed like scarlet on finding himself in a