“I suppose, so,” said Mike; “an’ I wish the same slip was as dacent an’ inoffensive as he is.  I don’t know a boy livin’ I’d go farther for nor the same Micaul.—­He’s a credit to the family as much as the other’s a stain upon them.”

“Well, any how, you war Frank’s match, an’ more, last night.  How bitther he was bint on bringin’ Peggy aff’, when he an’ his set waited till they seen the country clear, an’ thought the family asleep?  Had you man for man, Mike?”

“Ay, about that; an’ we sat so snug in Peggy’s that you’d hear a pin fallin’.  A hard tug, too, there was in the beginnin’; but whin they found that we had a strong back, they made away, an’ we gave them purshute from about the house.”

“You may thank me, any how, for havin’ her to the good; but I knew by my dhrame, wid the help o’ God, that there was somethin’ to happen; by the same a token, that your mother’s an’ her high horse about that dhrame.  I’m to tell it to her, wid the sinse of it, in the evenin’, when the day’s past, an’ all of us in comfort.”

“What was it, Darby? sure you may let me hear it.”

“Maybe I will in the evenin’.  It was about you an’ Peggy, the darlin’.  But how will you manage in regard of brakin’ the oath, an’ sthrikin’ a brother?”

“Why, that I couldn’t get over it, when he sthruck me first:  sure he’s worse off.  I’ll lave it to the Dilegates, an’ whatever judgment they give out, I’ll take wid it.”

“Well,” observed Darby, sarcastically, “it made him do one good turn, any way.”

“What was that, Darby? for good turns are but scarce wid him.”

“Why, it made him hear mass to-day,” replied the mendicant; “an’ that’s what he hadn’t the grace to do this many a year.  It’s away in the mountains wid his gun he’d be, thracin’, an’ a fine day it is for it—­only this business prevints him.  Now, Mike,” observed.  Darby, “as we’re comin’ out upon the boreen, I’ll fall back, an’ do you go an; I have part of my padareem to say, before I get to the chapel, wid a blessin’; an’ we had as good not be seen together.”

The mendicant, as he spoke, pulled out a long pair of beads, on which he commenced his prayers, occasionally accosting an aquaintance with the Gho mhany Deah ghud, (* God save you) and sometimes taking a part in the conversation for a minute or two, after which he resumed the prayers as before.

The day was now brightening up, although the earlier part of the morning had threatened severe weather.  Multitudes were flocking to the chapel; the men well secured in frieze great-coats, in addition to which, many of them had their legs bound with straw ropes, and others with leggings made of old hats, cut up for the purpose.  The women were secured with cloaks, the hoods of which were tied with kerchiefs of some showy color over their bonnets or their caps, which, together with their elbows projecting behind, for the purpose of preventing their dress from being dabbled in the snow, gave them a marked and most picturesque appearance.