“Arrah, Barny, what is it—­ha, ha, ha!—­what is it he’s sayin’?  The Lord spare him among us, anyhow, the darlin’ of a man!  Eh, Barny, you that’s in the inside the English?” This, of course is spoken in Irish.

Barny, however, is generally too much absorbed in the fun to become interpreter just then; but as soon as the joke is nearly heard out, in compliance with the importunity of his neighbors, he gives them a brief hint or two, and instantly the full chorus is rung out, long, loud, and jocular.

On the Sunday in question, as the subject could not be called strictly religious, the priest, who knew that a joke or two would bring in many an additional crown to Jemmy’s caubeen,* was determined that they, should at least have a laugh for their money.  The man, besides, was benevolent, and knew the way to the Irish heart; a knowledge which he felt happy in turning to the benefit of the lad in question.

     * Such collections were generally made in hats—­the
     usual name for an Irish peasant’s hat being—­caubeen.

With this object in view, he addressed the people somewhat in the following language:  “’Blessed is he that giveth his money to him that standeth in need of it.’”

“These words, my brethren, are taken from St. Paul, who, among ourselves, knew the value of a friend in distress as well as any other apostle in the three kingdoms—­hem.  It’s a nate text, my friends, anyhow.  He manes, however, when we have it to give, my own true, well-tried, ould friends!—­when we have it to give.  It’s absence althers the case, in toto; because you have all heard the proverb—­’there is no takin’ money out of an empty purse:’  or, as an ould ancient author said long ago upon the same subject: 

‘Cantabit whaekuus coram lathrone whiathur!’

—­(Dshk, dshk, dshk*—­that’s the larnin’!)—­He that carries an empty purse may fwhistle at the thief.  It’s sing in the Latin; but sing or fwhistle, in my opinion, he that goes wid an empty purse seldom sings or fwhistl’es to a pleasant tune.  Melancholy music I’d call it, an’ wouldn’t, may be, be much asthray al’ther—­Hem.  At all evints, may none of this present congregation, whin at their devotions, ever sing or fwhistle to the same time!  No; let it be to ‘money in both pockets,’ if you sing at all; and as long as you have that, never fear but you’ll also have the ‘priest in his boots’ into the bargain—­("Ha, ha, ha!—­God bless him, isn’t he the pleasant gentleman, all out—­ha, ha, ha!—­moreover, an’ by the same a token, it’s thrue as Gospel, so it is,")—­for well I know you’re the high-spirited people, who wouldn’t see your priest without them, while a fat parson, with half-a-dozen chins upon him, red and rosy, goes about every day in the week bogged in boots, like a horse-trooper!—­("Ha, ha, ha!—­good, Father Dan!  More power to you—­ha, ha, ha!  We’re the boys that wouldn’t see you in want o’ them, sure enough.  Isn’t he the droll crathur?”)