“Well, then,” says his Riv’rence, “in considheration ov the needcessity,” says he, “I’ll let you off for this time; but mind, now, afther I say præstho, the first of us that spakes a word of English is the hare—præstho!”
Neither ov them spoke for near a minit, considhering wid themselves how they wor to begin sich a great thrial ov shkill. At last, says the Pope—the blessed man! only think how ’cute it was ov him!—“Domine Maguire,” says he, “valde desidhero, certiorem fieri de significatione istius verbi eversor quo jam jam usus es”—(well, surely I am the boy for the Latin!)
“Eversor, id est cyathus,” says his Riv’rence, “nam apud nos tumbleri, seu eversores, dicti sunt ab evertendo ceremoniam inter amicos; non, ut Temperantiæ Societatis frigidis fautoribus placet, ab evertendis ipsis potatoribus.” (It’s not every masther undher the Boord, I tell you, could carry such a car-load ov the dead langidges.) “In agro vero Louthiano et Midensi,” says he, “nomine gaudent quodam secundum linguam Anglicanum significante bombardam seu tormentum; quia ex eis tanquam ex telis jaculatoriis liquorem faucibus immittere solent. Etiam inter hæreticos illos melanostomos” (that was a touch of Greek). “Presbyterianos Septentrionales, qui sunt terribiles potatores, Cyathi dicti sunt faceres, et dimidium Cyathi hæf-a-glessus. Dimidium Cyathi vero apud Metropolitanos Hibernicos dicitur dandy.”—
“En verbum Anglicanum!” says the Pope, clapping his hands,—“leporem te fecisti;” as much as to say that he had made a hare ov himself.
“Dandæus, dandæus, verbum erat,” says his Riv’rence—oh, the dear man, but it’s himself that was handy ever and always at getting out ov a hobble—“dandæus verbum erat,” says he, “quod dicturus eram, cum me intherpillavisti.”
“Ast ego dico,” says the Pope, very sharp, “quod verbum erat dandy.”
“Per tibicinem qui coram Mose modulatus est,” says his Riv’rence, “id flagellat mundum! Dandæus dixi, et tu dicis dandy; ergo tu es lepus, non ego—Ah, ha! Saccavi vesthram Sanctitatem!”
“Mendacium est!” says the Pope, quite forgetting himself, he was so mad at being sacked before the sarvints.
Well, if it hadn’t been that his Holiness was in it, Father Tom ’ud have given him the contints of his tumbler betuxt the two eyes, for calling him a liar; and, in troth, it’s very well it was in Latin the offince was conweyed, for, if it had been in the vernacular, there’s no saying what ’ud ha’ been the consequence. His Riv’rence was mighty angry anyhow.—“Tu senex lathro,” says he, “quomodo audes me mendacem prædicare?”
“Et tu, sacrilege nebulo,” says the Pope, “quomodo audacitatem habeas, me Dei in terris vicarium, lathronem conwiciari?”