“‘Very true, Frank,’ says Father Corrigan, ’I believe there’s a great dearth and poverty of spirituality about you, sure enough.  But of all kinds of poverty, commend me to a friar’s.  Voluntary poverty’s something, but it’s the divil entirely for a man to be poor against his will.  You friars boast of this voluntary poverty; but if there’s a fat bit in any part of the parish, we, that are the lawful clargy, can’t eat it, but you’re sure to drop in, just in the nick of time, with your voluntary poverty.’

“‘I’m sure, if we do,’ says the friar, ’it’s nothing out of your pocket, Michael.  I declare I believe you begrudge us the air we breathe.  But don’t you know very well that our ordhers are apostolic, and that, of coorse, we have a more primitive appearance than you have.’

“‘No such thing,’ says the other; ’you, and the parsons, and the fat bishops, are too far from the right place—­the only difference between you is, that you are fat and lazy by toleration, whereas the others are fat and lazy by authority.  You are fat and lazy on your ould horses, jogging about from house to house, and stuffing yourselves either at the table of other people’s parishioners, or in your own convents in Dublin and elsewhere.  They are rich, bloated gluttons, going about in their coaches, and wallying in wealth.  Now, we are the golden mean, Frank, that live upon a little, and work hard for it.’

“‘Why, you cormorant,’ says the friar, a little nettled, for the dhrop was beginning to get up into his head, ’sure if we’re fat by toleration, we’re only tolerably fat, my worthy secular!’

“‘You see,’ says the friar, in a whisper to my uncle, ’how I sobered them in the larning, and they are good scholars for all that, but not near so deep read as myself.’  ‘Michael,’ says he, ’now that I think on it—­sure I’m to be at Denis O’Flaherty’s Month’s mind on Thursday next.’

“‘Indeed I would not doubt you,’ says Father Corrigan; ’you wouldn’t be apt to miss it.’

“’Why, the widdy Flaherty asked me yesterday, and I think that’s proof enough that I’m not going unsent for.’

“By this time the company was hard and fast at the punch, the songs, and the dancing.  The dinner had been cleared off, except what was before the friar, who held out wonderfully, and the beggars and shulers were clawing and scoulding one another about the divide.  The dacentest of us went into the house for a while, taking the fiddler with us, and the rest, with the piper, staid on the green to dance, where they were soon joined by lots of the counthry people, so that in a short time there was a large number entirely.  After sitting for some time within, Mary and I began, you may be sure, to get unasy, sitting palavering among a parcel of ould sober folks; so, at last, out we slipped, and the few other dacent young people that were with us, to join the dance, and shake our toe along with the rest of them.  When we made our appearance, the flure was instantly cleared for us, and then she and I danced the Humors of Glin.