“Well,” said my brother, in reply to him, “after dinner we will probably throw some light upon that circumstance; for I believe my brother here knows something about it.”

“So, sir,” said the priest, “I perceive you have been amusing yourself at their expense.”

I seldom spent a pleasanter evening than, I did with Father Miloy (so he was called), who was, as my brother said, a shrewd, sensible man, possessed of convivial powers of the first order.  He sang us several good songs; and, to do him justice, he had an excellent voice.  He regretted very much the state of party and religious feeling, which he did every thing in his power to suppress.  “But,” said he, “I have little co-operation in my efforts to communicate knowledge to my flock, and implant better feelings among them.  You must know,” he added, “that I am no great favorite with them.  On being appointed to this parish by my bishop, I found that the young man who was curate to my predecessor had formed a party against me, thinking, by that means, eventually to get the parish himself.  Accordingly, on coming here, I found the chapel doors closed on me:  so that a single individual among them would not recognize me as their proper pastor.  By firmness and spirit, however, I at length succeeded, after a long struggle against the influence of the curate, in gaining admission to the altar; and, by a proper representation of his conduct to the bishop, I soon made my gentleman knock under.  Although beginning to gain ground in the good opinion of the people, I am by no means yet a favorite.  This curate and I scarcely speak; but I hope that in the course of time, both he and they will begin to find, that by kindness and a sincere love for their welfare on my part, good-will and affection will ultimately be established among us.  At least, there shall be nothing left undone, so far as I am concerned, to effect it.”

It was now near nine o’clock, and my brother was beginning to relate an anecdote concerning the clergyman who had preceded Father Molloy in the parish, when a messenger from Mr. Wilson, already alluded to, came up in breathless haste, requesting the priest, for God’s sake, to go down into town instantly, as the Kellys and the Grimeses were engaged in a fresh quarrel.

“My God!” he exclaimed—­“when will this work have an end?  But, to tell you the truth, gentlemen, I apprehended it; and I fear that something still more fatal to the parties will yet be the consequence.  Mr. D’Arcy, you must try what you can do with the Grimeses, and I will manage the Kellys.”

We then proceeded to the town, which was but a very short distance from the Priest’s house; and, on arriving, found a large crowd before the door of the house in which the Kellys had been drinking, engaged in hard conflict.  The priest was on foot, and had brought his whip with him, it being an argument, in the hands of a Roman Catholic pastor, which tells so home that it is seldom gainsaid.  Mr. Molloy