broken hints which he dealt out with similar mystery.

Faith, he'll take it like a duckyoung Blackthorn will-an' that was borried from Molsh, the daisey; an' it's all right so long as the intintion's good in Father M'Flewsther. Wather enough for the say crament, any how hagh, agh, och, och, ho, ho."

"Bosthoon," said Creepy O'Sleeveen, "you have the fun all to your self."

"Divil a word o' falsity in that, Creepy-but be me sowl you're not Creepy O'Sleeveen, or there'll be another story to tell afore the christenin's over, Creepy; put that in your sleeve. I'll not have all the fun to myself, Creepy-eh, Sleeveen? Miss Lilly, take care of him, or be the posey he'll clap his comedher an you, for all you'd think that butther 'udn't melt in his mouth-och, hoch, ho!"

"Miss Lilly has too much sinse to mind your palavers, Bosthoon. Never heed him, Miss Lilly, you know him of ould; anyhow, he's crack'd for this week past."

"Come, my thracle," said Bosthoon, "never heed me, but keep an eye to business; you know we'll be wantin' a small collation in the shape of breakfast, by-an-by, an' be the powdhers if there's a famine, I'll have you read out for a nager. Go an' put the robes on Blackthorn; the clargy 'ill soon appear what the dickens is keepin' them? sure they might know very well, there wont be a dear summer here this day at all evints."

Now, we cannot disguise the fact, that Bosthoon had a double card to play from the moment of Norry Flat tery's arrival, up until the appearance of the parish priest and his curate. He was by no means dull, and of course could perceive that most of his guests, ever and anon snuffed the air of his kitchen with a remarkably sweet zest, after which they looked into each other's faces, evidently without knowing exactly what to think. When Bosthoon saw this, he laboured with double assiduity to distract their attention to other objects, and in short, did every thing that mortal man could do, to put them on a wrong scent. In this it was difficult to say whether he succeeded or not. One observation of Creepy O'Sleeveen's inclines one to think he failed.

"Bosthoon," said Creepy," you have a murdherin' fine smell in the house."

"Faix no wondher, Creepy, there's a lot o' right good things in it."

"A strong smell o' punch, Bosthoon; I think you might as well do the dacent thing, an' come out wid a sup."

Creepy," said Bosthoon, vehemently, "be the mortial Caysar, there's not the shadow of punch undher my roof. I an' a friend or two had a sup last night, an' may be the smell of it is an the bottles. But sure, man," he continued, in his own ludicrous logic; "the whisky an' suggre is in the house, an' the hot wather boilin' too, an' be Granua Waile's punch jug, it 'ud go hard, or you'd smell punch out o' the matayrials at all evints-but as for made punch, be the blessed sunbame St. Pathrick hung his shirt upon, I'm tellin' thruth-God pardon me for swearin' in the manetime."

It is not to be supposed, that during the period which elapsed from the time of their assembling until the arrival of the clergymen, the other guests did not indulge in conversation of a light and lively cast. On the contrary, the hilarity of the occasion, and the abundant prospect of the good cheer before them, had a wonderful effect in raising their spirits, and loosening their tongues. Many a joke, and laugh, and anecdote, and many a morsel of choice scandal, fresh from the fact, enlivened the meeting, and fell like a blessing from heaven into the ears of the females who heard them. We must not neglect to say that pots and kettles were boiling; beef-steaks and mutton-chops piled before their eyes; bowls of eggs lying about, and every thing visible that was calculated to harmonize the hearts and feelings of all who were present.

Bosthoon's last deprecation against swearing was scarcely uttered when Father M'Flewsther and the Rev. Bartle O'Fag, his curate, both arrived, and

1

But we cannot introduce two such important personages upon the stage of this our history without paying them the compliment of a short prologue.

Father Darby M'Flewsther was, in the true and proper acceptation of the word, what has been called a "hedge priest," a term which at one time embraced a tolerably numerous class-of which we question if there be a single specimen now alive. Of the hedge priest and the continental priest it may be truly said that they repelled each other like the poles of a magnet. The continental pricst despised the hedge

498

priest, but never hated him; for he could not but remember that he himself had, generally speaking, been a hedge priest before he became a continental one. The facts are these. During the existence of the penal laws, and before the establishment of Maynooth the most pernicious piece of policy by the way that ever Britain adopted-such was the scarcity of Roman Catholic priests in the Irish market, that they were always at an immense premium. The consequence was, that young men fresh from the potato ridge often took it into their heads to go to the next hedge school, where they made themselves acquainted with a little Latin. Education at the time was both rare and limited, and the appearance of a young man capable of even reading Latin, much less of understanding it properly, was a matter of such importance that the Roman Catholic Bishops were glad to lay hands upon them, and by the ready process of ordination metamorphosed them into priests. These young fellows were drilled into a knowledge of their duty by practising the ceremony of what is called Dry Masses-that is, they went through the process of mass-saying, omitting the words that are supposed to transubstantiate the elements, and thus degraded the form of worshipping God into the hackneyed task of an apprentice. As soon as the colt priest, for in point of fact he was not even a regular apprentice, was capable of going without a blunder through the various ceremonies of the dry mass, he was then permitted to utter the words. At all events, after this he "he tore away at the masses," as the people say was appointed to a curacy, and then received strict injunctions from the bishop to study divinity with as much attention as he could devote to it. This was ordaining them upon Mrs. Glass's plan of making hare soup: -first catch your hare-first ordain your priest. Many of these men had never read the Bible, and some of them had never handled it. Of this class was Father Darby M'Flewsther. And now for the bland and gentlemanly continentals. Of these there were two or three classes. Oue-the sons of Catholics who were capable of giving them at home a tolerably liberal education, and afterwards of supporting them in the continental colleges. These were never ordained in Ireland, but beyond all comparison they were on their return the most accomplished,

gentlemanly, and liberal class of the priesthood that Ireland ever saw. The next was a class of Irishmen capable of educating their sons here, but not in point of pecuniary circumstances able to support them in the foreign colleges. These men, no more than the others, received not holy orders in Ireland, but were supported by burses, established in several of the continental universities by Irishmen and others for the education of Irish Roman Catholic priests. The third was a class of the same kidney as Father M'Flewsther, who upon the classical accomplishments of Virgil's Eclogues and Ovid's Metamorphoses were themselves, as I have already said, transubstantiated into priests, in order, be it observed, that they might on the continent be enabled, by saying masses, to acquire the education necessary for the functions of the priesthood, and to worship God for the purpose of earning a livelihood.

This which we have written, might, by some people, be considered a very sufficient illustration of the matter in hand. Our travelled readers, however, may possibly know, that in France, Spain, and Italy, the Catholic chapels, independently of the Grand Altars, contain a number of subordinate ones— side altars, on which, every morning, the piety, or guilt, or superstition of individuals, places a certain sum of money, accompanied by a written paper, as a guide for the priest in saying the mass. Now, the fact is, that many a poor breakfastless Irishman, in the shape of a priest, has thought himself in great good fortune, on being selected to rasp his mass for the shilling, crown, or half-crown that lay upon the aforesaid altar-according to the intention of the donor-without knowing either his name, or what the intention itself was. Of course, after hurrying through this blindfold ordinance, he made a hearty breakfast upon the said intention, and prayed fervently, that many such might come in his way. Of this description was third class, and in such would Father M'Flewsther have ranked, had he gone to the continent; the poor man, on the contrary, never had a bushel of salt water under him since he was born, and never saw the sea in his life.

the

Father M'Flewsther, like most men possessing little knowledge and much authority, was a vastly consequential person, as well in his own eyes as in those of his flock. He possessed, how

ever, a kind heart, was foolishly fond of flattery, and never felt happy, except when stuck in the heart of a knot of women. Indeed he acted as a kind of general arbitrator among the sex, and was eternally engaged in hearing complaints, redressing grievances, composing quarrels, making matches, tracing scandal, rating husbands, and reclaiming wives. He was, consequently, a prodigious favourite, and woe betide the husband or brother that durst open a lip against him. I have said he was fond of flattery, but not a whit more anxious to get than to give it. As the proverb goes, it's he that could lay it on thick-a fact which, in itself, is sufficient to account for his popularity among females. He was a stout man, rather good-humoured looking than handsome, wore a black coat and waistcoat, each too full for his size; his breeches were of black corduroy, and his stockings a dark-coloured ridge and fur. His boots and shoes were in general greased, except at Christmas and Easter, when he generously treated himself to a barrel of lampblack. One of his peculiarities, however, will place him more clearly before the eye of the reader, than anything I have said, it was this, he could not, for the soul of him, wear his hat three days, until it became turned up behind, a shape for which all his hats were remarkable. His curate, or, as they called him, the Cowjutherer, Father Bartle O'Fag, was an honest, sincere creature, as simple and credulous as a child. In point of education, it was a dead match between them. Father Bartle believed in ghosts, dreams, fairies, miracles, and all such kinds of nonsensical superstition. He,

himself had attempted miraculous cures, both upon men, women, and cattle, and on one occasion was near starving himself to death, in order to arrive at the proper degree of sanctity. He possessed, however, many talents that made him as popular with the males, as Father M Flewsther was with the other sex. Indeed, at confession, the former all went to him, and the latter to Father Mac; and it was observed, as a compliment to his rapid powers of absolution, that he could absolve three men whilst Father Mac absolved one woman, the latter gentleman being often rather tedious and dilatory. Father Bartle could also say a mass in less time than any other priest in the kingdom, for which reason, his masses were far more crowded than the parish priest's.

Such, good reader, is a slight sketch of Father Darby M'Flewsther, and his Cowjutherer, the Rev. Bartle O'Fag, who have just arrived to join the christening, and admit young Blackthorn into the bosom of the church-so far contravening Bosthoon's system, who, in compliment perhaps to a good number of the cloth, was anxious to have his son a priest before he had become a Christian.

And now every thing being ready

But, gentle reader, this famous christening must be postponed until the Easter holidays, during which time my spirits, I trust, will be up, and sufficiently buoyant to enable me-please the fates to detail it in a manner worthy of the occurrence.

Ever thine, gentle reader,
PHEDLIM M'FUN.

OUR readers may recollect that in a former number of this Journal there appeared some comments upon the controversy which arose out of the act of his Grace the Archbishop of Dublin, in issuing the inhibition against the preaching of Mr. Nolan in the Church of St. John's. We believe that this occurrence has not been one destined to create a transitory sensation and leave no permanent effects. The matter at issue in this controversy was not merely the adjustment of a personal dispute, or the decision of the propriety or impropriety of a particular act of authority. If it were so, our feelings would have led us to leave the settlement of the controversy to others, and to have taken no part in its progress, perhaps no interest in its issue. But it is because we believe that this inhibition, and the circumstances immediately connected with it are but the indications of a current that is running deeper than a superficial observer might suppose—that we think it well to pause and calmly look back upon the character of the events which excited so much interest, and gave rise, we regret to say, to so much angry discussion.

With these feelings we gladly avail ourselves of the opportunity presented by the appearance of the volume before us, to review the entire transaction of which it is intended to be a record. We think it well that of that transaction some memorial should remain; and while we confess, upon reading over all the correspondence which is here preserved, that there is much upon all sides of evidence of an unbecomingly excited spirit-much that we would wish should be forgotten-we still have no hesitation in saying, that it is of more importance, of infinitely more importance, that the mind should be preserved, than that the incidental causes

of regret which are preserved with it, should be forgotten. And though we desire that less asperity had been manifested, and more forbearance of love exhibited between those members of the Church who held different sentiments upon the point we neither regret that the question has been agitated, nor that there is a memorial of the discussion; and perhaps it is censorious to complain, that when men's feelings are excited, there should be occasionally manifested something of a temper of which calm reflection cannot altogether approve.

The circumstances attending on this inhibition have been simply these; we desire to state them as generally as possible, and without any reference to irritating topics. Archdeacon Magee, incumbent of St. John's Church, in this city, had invited the Rev. Dr. Nolan, formerly a Roman Catholic clergyman, but now, we believe, a licensed curate in the diocese of Meath, to preach a controversial sermon in the Church of St. John's-an inhibition was issued by his Grace the Archbishop, preventing Mr. Nolan from preaching. This inhi bition was issued on the plea of an authority vested in the diocesan of excluding a clergyman from any other diocese from officiating within the limits of his own,

The assertion of this authority contains really the entire interest of the question; we must, however, fill up our sketch by relating the events which followed. Archdeacon Magee, though he yielded in this instance to the inhibition, did so with a protest against the power assumed by the Archbishop, and resolved to try his right over his own pulpit, by apprising his Grace of his intention to invite strangers to preach in his Church without his Grace's permission. Of the strangers whom he named, Mr. Trail was the ouly one who came