Perceiving a small space yet unoccupied in the party, I made my way thither by the stair near it, and soon had the satisfaction to find myself safely installed, without attracting any other notice from the party than a proud stare from the lady, as she removed a little farther from beside the priest.
As to his reverence, far too deeply interested in his immediate pursuits to pay any attention to me, he had quite enough on his hands with his three antagonists, none of whom did he ever for a moment permit to edge in even a word. Conducting his varied warfare with the skill of a general, who made the artillery, the infantry, and the cavalry of mutual aid and assistance to one another, he continued to keep the church, the courtship, and the cards all moving together, in a manner perfectly miraculous—the vehemence with which he thumped down a trump upon the table serving as a point in his argument, while the energy of the action permitted a squeeze of the lady's hand with the other.
'There ye go, six of spades! Play a spade, av ye have one, Mr. Larkins—— For a set of shrivelled-up craytures, with nothing but thee and thou for a creed to deny the real ould ancient faith, that Saint Peter and—— The ace of diamonds! that tickled you under the short ribs——- Not you, Mrs. Carney; for a sore time you have of it, and an angel of a woman ye are; and the husband that could be cruel to you, and take—— The odd trick out of you, Mr. Larkins——
No, no, I deny it—nego in omnibus, Domine. What does Origen say? The rock, says he, is Peter; and if you translate the passage without—— Another kettleful, if you please. I go for the ten, Misther Larkins. Trumps! another—another—hurroo! By the tower of Clonmacnoise, I'll beggar the bank to-night. Malhereux au jeux, heureux en amour, as we used to say formerly. God forgive us!'
Whether it was the French, or the look that accompanied it, I cannot aver, but certainly the lady blushed and looked down. In vain did the poor Quaker essay a word of explanation. In vain did Mrs. Carney herself try to escape from the awkward inferences some of his allusions seemed to lead to. Even the old farmer saw his tricks confiscated, and his games estreated, without a chance of recovery; for, like Coeur de Lion with his iron mace, the good priest laid about him, smashing, slaying, and upsetting all before him, and never giving his adversaries a moment to recover from one blow, ere he dealt another at their heads.
'To be sure, Mrs. Carney, and why not? It's as mild as mother's milk. Come, ould square-toes, take a thimbleful of it, and maybe it'll lead you to a better understanding. I play the five fingers, Mr. Larkins. There goes Jack, my jewel! Play to that—the trick is mine. Don't be laughing; I've a bit of fat in the heel of my fist for you yet. There now, what are you looking at? Don't you see the cards? Troth, you 're as bad as the Quaker; you won't believe your own eyes—— And ye see, ma'am'—here he whispered something in the lady's ear for a few seconds, adding as he concluded—'and thim, Mrs. Carney, thim's the rights of the Church. Friends, indeed! ye call yourselves friends! Faix, ye're the least social friends I ever forgathered with, even if the bare look of you wasn't an antidote to all kinds of amusements—— Cut, Mr. Larkins—— And it's purgatory ye don't like? Ye know what Father O'Leary said, “Some of ye may go farther and fare worse,” not to speak of what a place heaven would be, with the likes of you in it—— Av it was Mrs. Carney, indeed. Yes, Mary, your own beautiful self, that's fit to be an angel any day, and discoorse with angels—— Howld, av you please, I've a club for that—— Don't you see what nonsense you're talking—the little kettle is laughing at you—— What's that you 're mumbling about my time of life? Show me the man that'll carry twelve tumblers with me; show me the man that'll cross a country; show me the man that 'll—— Never mind, Mrs. Carney—— Time of life, indeed! Faix, I'll give you a song.'
With these words, the priest pushed the cards aside, replenished the glasses, and began the following melody to an air much resembling 'Sir Roger de Coverley':—
'To-morrow I 'll just be three-score;
May never worse fortune betide me
Than to have a hot tumbler before,
And a beautiful crayture beside me!
If this world 's a stage, as they say,
And that men are the actors, I 'm certain,
In the after-piece I 'd like to play,
And be there at the fall of the curtain.
Whack! fol lol.
'No, no, Mrs. Carney, I'll take the vestment on it, nothing of the kind—the allusion is most discreet; but there is more.
'For the pleasures of youth are a flam;
To try them again, pray excuse me;
I 'd rather be priest that I am,
With the rights of the Church to amuse me.
Sure, there's naught like a jolly old age,
And the patriarchs knew this, it said is;
For though they looked sober and sage,
'Faith, they had their own fun with the ladies!
Whack! fol lol.