“Is the man serious, Mr. Finnerty?”

“I never saw a man in my life having a more serious appearance, I assure you,” said the priest.

“By Jove, it’s a queer business,” replied the other:  “a most extraordinary affair as I ever witnessed!  Why, it would be madness to destroy such a fine animal as that!  The horse is an excellent one!  However, I shall certainly not accept him, until I ascertain whether I can prevail upon the bishop to elect his son to this vacancy.  If I can make the man no return for him, I shall let him go to the dogs.”

“Go up and set to work,” said the priest; “but remember that tace is Latin for a candle.  Keep his lordship in the dark, otherwise this scion is ousted.”

“True,” said the other.  “In the meantime bring them into the parlor until I try what can be done.”

“Take the Bishop upon the father’s affection for him,” said the priest.

“You are right.  I am glad you mentioned it.”

“The poor man will break his heart,” said the priest.

“He will,” responded the Counsellor smiling.

“So will the mother, too,” said the priest, with an arch look.

“And the whole family,” replied the Counsellor.

“Go up instantly,” said the priest; “you have often got a worse fee.”

“And, perhaps, with less prospect of success,” said the other.  “Gentlemen, have the goodness to walk into the parlor for a few minutes, while I endeavor to soften my brother a little, if I can, upon this untoward business.”

When the priest and his two friends entered the parlor, which was elegantly furnished, they stood for a moment to survey it.

Old Denis, however, was too much engaged in the subject which lay nearest his heart to take pleasure in anything else; at least until he should hear the priest’s opinion upon the posture of affairs.

“What does your reverence think?” said Denis.

“Behave yourself,” replied the pastor.  “None of your nonsense!  You know what I think as well as I do myself.”

“But will Dionnisis pass?—­Will he go to Maynooth?”

“Will you go to your dinner to-day, or to your bed to-night?”

“God be praised!  Well, Docthor, wait till we see him off, then I’ll be spakin’ to you!”

“No,” said the priest; “but wait till you tike a toss upon this sofa, and then you will get a taste of ecclesiastical luxury.”

“Ay,” said Denis, “but would it be right o’ me to sit in it?  Maybe it’s consecrated.”

“Faith, you may swear that; but it is to the ease and comfort of his lordship!  Come, man, sit down, till you see how you’ll sink in it.”

“Oh, murdher!” exclaimed Denis, “where am I at all?  Docthor dear, am I in sight?  Do you see the crown o’ my head, good or bad?  Oh, may I never sin, but that’s great state!—­Well, to be sure!”

“Ay,” said the priest, “see what it is to be a bishop in any church!  The moment a man becomes a bishop, he fastens tooth and nail upon luxury, as if a mitre was a dispensation for enjoying the world that they have sworn to renounce.  Dionysius, look about you!  Isn’t this worth studying for?”