“Father Finnerty, there’s only one thing, indeed I may say two, a wantin’ to complate our happiness—­I mean Denis and Father Molony!  What on earth does your Reverence think can keep them?”

     * This, about thirty years ago, was usual at weddings
     and other feasts, where everything went upon a large
     scale.

To this he received not a syllable of reply, nor did he consider it necessary to urge the question any further at present.  Father Finnerty’s powers of conversation seemed to have abandoned him; for, although there were some few expressions loosely dropped, yet the worthy priest maintained an obstinate silence.

At length, in due time, he began to let fall an occasional remark, impeded considerably by hiccups, and an odd Deo Gratias, or Laus Deo, uttered in that indecisive manner which indicates the position of a man who debates within himself whether he ought to rest satisfied or not.

At this moment the tramping of a horse was heard approaching the door, and immediately every one of Denis’s family ran out to ascertain whether it was the young candidate.  Loud and clamorous was their joy on finding that they were not mistaken; he was alone, and, on arriving at the door, dismounted slowly, and received their welcomes and congratulations with a philosophy which perplexed them not a little.  The scene of confusion which followed his entrance into the house could scarcely be conceived:  every hand was thrust out to welcome him, and every tongue loud in wishing him joy and happiness.  The chairs and stools were overturned as they stood in the way of those who wished to approach him; plates fell in the bustle, and wooden trenchers trundled along the ground; the dogs, on mingling with the crowd that surrounded him, were kicked angrily from among them by those who had not yet got shaking hands with Denis.  Father Finnerty, during this commotion, kept his seat in the most dignified manner; but the moment it had subsided he stretched out his hand to Denis, exclaiming: 

“Mr. O’Shaughnessy, I congratulate you upon the event of this auspicious day!  I wish you joy and happiness!”

“So do we all, over and over agin!” they exclaimed; “a proud gintleman he may be this night!”

“I thank you, Father Finnerty,” said Denis, “and I thank you all!”

“Denis, avourneen,” said his mother, “sit down an’ ate a hearty dinner; you must be both tired and hungry, so sit down, avick, and when you’re done you can tell us all.”

“Bonum concilium, mi chare Dionysi—­the advice is good, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, and I myself will, in honor of this day, although I have already dined, just take another slice;” and as he spoke he helped himself.  “Anything to honor a friend,” he continued; “but, by the by, before I commence, I will try your own prescription, Denis—­a whetter of this poteen at intervals.  Hoch, that’s glorious stuff—­pure as any one of the cardinal virtues, and strong as fortitude, which is the champion of them all.”