people come prepared.

The conversation already detailed between father and son took place
on Friday, and on Saturday, a day on which the priest never holds a
Station, and, of course, is generally at home, Dominick M'Evoy went to
his house with the object already specified in view. The priest was
at home; a truly benevolent man, but like the worthies of his day, not
over-burdened with learning, though brimful of kindness and hospitality
mixed up with drollery and simple cunning.

"Good morning, Dominick!" said the priest, as Dominick entered.

"Good morrow, kindly, Sir," replied Dominick: "I hope your Reverence is
well, and in good health."

"Troth I am, Dominick! I hope there's nothing wrong at home; how is the
wife and children?"

"I humbly, thank your Reverence for axin'! Troth there's no rason for
complainin' in regard o' the health; sarra one o' them but's bravely,
consitherin' all things: I believe I'm the worst o' them, myself, yer
Reverence.. I'm gettin' ould, you see, an' stiff', an' wake; but that's
only in the coorse o' nathur; a man can't last always. Wait till them
that's young an' hearty now, harrows as much as I ploughed in my day,
an' they won't have much to brag of. Why, thin, but yer Reverence stands
it bravely--faix, wondherfully itself--the Lord be praised! an' it warms
my own heart to see you look so well."

"Thank you, Dominick. Indeed, my health, God be thanked, is very good.
Ellish," he added, calling to an old female servant--"you'll take a