“Unworthy of respect,” he proceeded, “as it appears by some of my relations I am held,” and he glanced at his brother, “yet I beg permission to state, that our worthy parochial priest, or I should rather say, the Catholic Rector of this parish, is of a somewhat different habit of thought or contemplation.  I dined with him to-day—­ehem—­dined with him upon an excellent joint of mutton—­I say, father—­the mutton was good—­and with his proud, pertinacious curate, whom I do not at all relish; whether, as Homer says—­I enumerate his scurrilous satire, or his derogatory insinuations.  His parochial pastor and spiritual superior is a gentleman, or, as Horace says, homo factus ad unguem—­which is paraphrastically—­every inch a gentleman—­or more literally, a gentleman to the tops of his fingers—­ehem—­hem—­down to the very nails—­as it were.

“Well—­having discussed that—­observatis observandis, quoad sacerdolem—­having passed my eulogium upon Father Finnerty—­upon my word and credit though, punch is prima facie drink—­and father, that brings me to remember an omission which I committed in my dialogue with you this morning.  I forgot to say, that after my dinner, in the manner I expounded to you, it will be necessary to have a tumbler of punch—­for, as Father Finnerty says, there is nothing which so effectually promotes the organs of digestion.  Now, my introduction of this, in the middle of my narrative, is what the hypercritics call a Parenthesis, which certainly betrays no superficial portion of literary perusal on my part, if you could at all but understand it as well as Father Finnerty, our Worthy parochial incumbent, does.  As for the curate, should I ever come to authority in the Irish hierarchy, I shall be strongly disposed to discountenance him; if it were only for his general superciliousness of conduct.  So there’s another clause disposed of.

“Well—­to proceed—­I say I have intelligence regarding myself, that will be by no means unsavory to you all.  Father Finnerty and I had, about an hour before dinner this day, a long and tedious conversation, the substance of which was my future celebrity in the church.  He has a claim on the Bishop, which he stated to me will be exercised in my favor, although there are several candidates for it in this parish, not one of whom, however, is within forty-five degree’s of being so well qualified for college as myself.  Father, is there not a jar—­an amphora—­as that celebrated satirist Juvenile has it—­an amphora—­in the chimly-brace, filled with liquor—­get it, and let us inter animosity—­I’ll not be long a member of the domestic circle with you—­so, upon the basis of the communication I have to make, let us, as I said, be—­become sextons to animosity and care.  ‘Dionysius,’ said Father Finnerty, addressing me, which shows, at all events, that I am not so unimportant as some of my friends would suppose—­’Dionysius,’ said he ’inter nos—­between