Darby was certainly confounded by the unwelcome intelligence respecting the loss of the Gaolership, which was conveyed to him in such an unpleasant manner by Mr. Topertoe.  He knew his own powers of wheedling, however, too well, to despair of being able, could he see Lucre, to replace himself as firmly as ever in his good opinion.  With this purpose in view, he wended his way to the Glebe House, where he understood the newly made bishop yet was, having made arrangements to proceed the next morning to Dublin, in order to be consecrated.  There was, therefore, no time to be lost, and he accordingly resolved to effect an interview if he could.  On arriving, the servant, who was ignorant of the change against him which had been produced in his master’s sentiments, instantly admitted him; and the bishop, who had expected a present of game from his neighbor, Lord Mountmortgage, desired him to be admitted—­the servant having only intimated that the man was come.”

“How is this?” said the Prelate in a loud and angry voice; “how did you get in, sir?”

“Plaise your Lordship,” replied Darby, “I came in by the door, of course—­an’ that, your Lordship, is generally the right way; for as holy Scripture says,” he proceeded, anxious to let his Lordship see how deeply he was imbued with Scriptural truth—­“as holy Scripture says, ’Verily, verily, I say unto you, he that entereth not by the door into the sheep-fold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber,’ Indeed, my Lord, I never knewn the consolation that’s in Scripture antil lately, glory be to God!”

The bishop looked at him with an angry and scrutinizing eye; for Darby’s deportment, to say truth, puzzled him very much.  Whether his conduct proceeded from audacity, or shear simplicity, he felt unable to determine, from anything that he could see in Darby’s imperturbable features.

“What is your business with me now? asked the prelate.

“Why, your Lordship,” replied Darby, “I’ve made out a couple of proserlytes, that will be a credit to our blessed Establishment, as soon as they’re convarted.  One of them, my Lord, is called Barney Butther, an’ the other Tom Whiskey, in regard of—­”

“Go about your business, sir,” replied the prelate, reddening with indignation; “begone.”

“I will, my Lord; only, my Lord, just before I go—­about the Undher Gaolership?”

“Your appointment to it is cancelled,” replied the other, “for many reasons; you avoided prosecuting that wild priest.”

“But sure I said, my Lord, that when I’d get into my situation—­”

“Your appointment to it is cancelled, I repeat; the fact is, O’Drive, I have too much regard for your morals and the advances you have recently made in scriptural knowledge to place you in such a situation.  It is only some hardened sinner, some irreclaimable knave, and not an honest man like you, that oughht to be appointed to such an office; the nature of its duties would only draw you into bad habits and corrupt your principles.  The fact is, your very virtues and good qualities; prevent you from getting it—­for get it, you assuredly shall not.”