“’And was it by way of accident, Mr. Secular, that I got you and that illoquent young gintleman, your curate, here before me?  Do you feel that, man of the world?  Father James, your health, though—­you’re a good young man as far as saying nothing goes; but it’s better to sit still than to rise up and fall, so I commend you for your discretion,’ says he; ’but I’m afeared your master there won’t make you much fitter for the kingdom of heaven any how.’

“‘I believe, Father Corrigan,’ says my uncle, who loved to see the priest and the friar at it, ’that you’ve met with your match—­I think Father Rooney’s able for you.’

“‘Oh, sure,’ says Father Corrigan, he was joker to the college of the Sorebones (* Sorbonne) in Paris; he got as much education as enabled him to say mass in Latin, and to beg oats in English, for his jokes.’

“‘Troth, and,’ says the friar, ’if you were to get your larning on the same terms, you’d be guilty of very little knowledge; why, Michael, I never knew you to attempt a joke but once, and I was near shedding tears, there was something so very sorrowful in it.’

“This brought the laugh against the priest—­’Your health, Molshy,’ says he, winking at my mother-in-law, and then giving my uncle, who sat beside him, a nudge; ‘I believe, Brian, I’m giving it to him.’ ’’Tis yourself that is,’ says my uncle; ‘give him a wipe or two more.’  ’Wait till he answers the last,’ says the friar.

“‘He’s always joking,’ says Father James, ’when he thinks he’ll make any thing by it.’

“‘Ah!’ says the friar, ’then God help you both if you were left to your jokes for your feeding; for a poorer pair of gentlemen wouldn’t be found in Christendom.’

“‘And I believe,’ says Father Corrigan, ’if you depinded for your feeding upon your divinity instead of your jokes, you’d be as poor as a man in the last stage of a consumption.’

“This drew the laugh against the friar, who smiled himself; but he was a dry man that never laughed much.

“‘Sure,’ says the friar, who was seldom at a loss, ’I have yourself and your nephew for examples that it’s possible to live and be well fed without divinity.’

“‘At any rate,’ says my uncle, putting in his tongue, ’I think you’re both very well able to make divinity a joke betune you,’ says he.

“‘Well done, Brian,’ says the friar, ’and so they are, for I believe it is the only subject they can joke upon! and I beg your pardon, Michael, for not excepting it before; on that subject I allow you to be humorsome.’

“‘If that be the case, then,’ says Father Corrigan, ’I must give up your company, Frank, in order to avoid the force of bad example; for you’re so much in the habit of joking on everything else, that you’re not able to accept even divinity itself.’

“‘You may aisily give me up,’ says the friar, ’but how will you be able to forget Father Corrigan?  I’m afeard you’ll find his acquaintance as great a detriment to yourself, as it is to others in that respect.’