he, brandishing it over my head.  “My good father,” said I, “do you remember, since nothing else will restrain you, that the laws of the country will not recognize such horsewhip Christianity?” “The laws of the country.  Oh, God help it for a country!  Yes! yes! excellent.  Here Michael—­I say, come here—­drive out this follow.  I’ll be calm; I’ll not, put myself in a passion—­out with him! this fellow.”  On turning round to contemplate the person spoken to, we recognized each other as slight aquaintances.  “Bless me,” said he, “what’s the matter?  Why,” he added, addressing me, “what’s this?” “How? do you know him, Michael?” “Tut, I do—­isn’t he for the mission?” “Oh—­ho!—­is that it? well, I’m glad I know so much; good-bye to you, for the present; never fear but I’ll keep my eye upon you.”  So saying, we separated.  Michael followed me out.  “This is an awkward business,” said he, “you had better make submission, and ask his pardon; for you know he can injure your prospects, and will do so, if you don’t submit; he is not of the most forgiving cast—­but that’s between ourselves.”  “What o’clock is it?” said I.  “Near three.”  “Well, good-bye, and God bless you; if he had a spark of humanity in him, I would beg his pardon at once, if I thought I had offended him; but as to making submission to such a man, as you call it—­why—­this is a very sultry day, my friend.”  I returned directly to the old man and his son; and, let purity or motive go as it may, truth to tell, they were no losers by the priest’s conduct; as I certainly slipped them a few additional shillings, out of sheer contempt for him.  On tasting a little refreshment in one of the cabins, the son fainted—­but on the whole they were enabled to accomplish their journey home; and the father’s blessing was surely a sufficient antidote against the Priest’s resentment.

I was now ready to depart; and on my way to the boat, found my two old female companions watching, lest I should pass, and they might miss my company on the way.  It was now past three o’clock, and we determined to travel as far as we could that night, as the accommodations were vile in Petigo; and the spokeswoman mentioned a house of entertainment, about twelve miles forward, where, she said, we would find better treatment.  When we got on terra firma, the first man I saw was the monosyllabic humorist, sitting on a hillock resting himself—­his eyes fixed on the earth, and he evidently in a brown study on what he had gone through.  He was drawing in his breath gradually, his cheeks expanding all the while, until they reached the utmost point of distention, when he would all at once let it go with a kind of easy puff, ending in a groan, as he surveyed his naked feet, which were now quite square, and, like my own, out of all shape.  I asked him how he liked the station; he gave me one of the old looks, shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing—­it was, however, a shrug condemnatory.  I then asked him would he ever make another pilgrimage?  He answered me by another shrug, a grave look, dryly raising his eye-brows, and a second appeal to his feet, all of which I easily translated into strong negatives.  We refreshed ourselves in Petigo.