“Here, your Rivirence,” replies a voice from the depth of the crowd.
“Come up here, Shawn, ’till I examine you about your Catechism and docthrines.”
A rough-headed fellow elbowed his way slowly through the congregation, and moulding his old hat into a thousand grotesque shapes, between his huge palms, presented himself before his pastor, with very much the air of a puzzled philosopher.
“Well, Shawn, my boy, do you know what is the meaning of Faith?”
“Parfictly, your Rivirence,” replied the fellow, with a knowing grin. “Faith means when Paddy Hogan gives me credit for half-a-pint of the best.”
“Get out of my sight, you ondaycent vagabond; you’re a disgrace to my flock. Here, you Tom M’Gawley, what’s Charity?”
“Bating a process-sarver, your Rivirence,” replied Tom, promptly.
“Oh! blessed saints! how I’m persecuted with ye, root and branch. Jim Houlaghan, I’m looking at you, there, behind Peggy Callanane’s cloak; come up here, you hanging bone slieveen55. A sly rogue. and tell me what is the Last Day?”
“I didn’t come to that yet, sir,” replied Jim, scratching his head.
“I wouldn’t fear you, you bosthoon. Well, listen, and I’ll tell you. It’s the day when you’ll all have to settle your accounts, and I’m thinking there’ll be a heavy score against some of you, if you don’t mind what I’m saying to you. When that day comes, I’ll walk up to Heaven and rap at the hall door. Then St. Pether, who will be takin’ a nap after dinner in his arm-chair, inside, and not liking ta be disturbed, will call out mighty surly, ‘Who’s there?’”