Darby honored the gift by immediate acceptance.

“Well, Owen Reillaghan,” said he, “you make me take more o’ this stuff nor any man I know; and particularly by rason that bein’ given, wid a blessin’, to the ranns, an’ prayers, an’ holy charms, I don’t think it so good; barrin’, indeed, as Father Donnellan towld me, when the wind, by long fastin’, gets into my stomach, as was the case today, I’m often throubled, God help me, wid a configuration in the—­hugh! ugh—­an’ thin it’s good for me—­a little of it.”

“This would make a brave powdher-horn, Darby Moore,” observed one of Reilla-ghan’s sons, “if it wasn’t so big.  What do you keep in it, Darby?”

“Why, avillish, (* my sweet) nothin’ indeed but a sup o’ Father Donnellan’s holy water, that they say by all accounts it costs him great trouble to make, by rason that he must fast a long time, and pray by the day, afore he gets himself holy enough to consecrate it.”

“It smells like whiskey, Darby,” said the boy, without any intention, however, of offending him.  “It smells very like poteen.”

“Hould yer tongue, Risthard,” said the elder Reillaghan; “what ’ud make the honest man have whiskey in it?  Didn’t he tell you what’s in it?”

“The gorsoon’s right enough,” replied Darby.  “I got the horn from Barny Dalton a couple o’ days agone; ‘twas whiskey he had in it, an’ it smells of it sure enough, an’ will, indeed, for some time longer.  Och! och! the heavens be praised, I’ve made a good dinner!  May they never know want that gave it to me!  Oxis Doxis Glorioxis—­Amin!” + + +

“Darby, thry this again,” said Reillaghan, offering him another bumper.

“Troth an’ I will, thin, for I find myself a great dale the betther of the one I tuck.  Well, here’s health an’ happiness to us, an’ may we all meet in heaven!  Risthard, hand me that horn till I be goin’ out to the barn, in ordher to do somethin’ for my sowl.  The holy wather’s a good thing to have about one.”

“But the dhrame, Darby?” inquired Mrs. Reillaghan.  “Won’t you tell it to us?”

“Let Mike follow me to the barn,” he replied, “an’ I’ll tell him as much of it as he ought to hear.  An’ now let all of yez prepare for the Midnight Mass; go there wid proper intuitions, an’ not to be coortin’ or dhrinkin’ by the way.  We’re all sinners, any way, an’ oughtn’t to neglect our sowls.  Oxis Doxis Glorioxis.  Amin!”

He immediately strided with the horn under his arm, towards the barn, where he knelt, and began his orisons in a tone sufficiently loud to be heard in the kitchen.  When he was gone, Mrs. Reillaghan, who, with the curiosity natural to her sex, and the superstition peculiar to her station in life, felt anxious to hear Darby’s dream, urged Mike to follow him forthwith, that he might prevail on him to detail it at full length.

Darby, who knew not exactly what the dream ought to be, replied to Mike’s inquiries vaguely.