“And what is that yoo-hoore affair, Mr Law-long-tongue. Why meddle in other men’s fif-fif-feuds?”
“You mistake, Mr Rivers; he who interrupts the harmony of society is accountable to every member. You have rudely burst the bounds of decorum to-night; you have unfeelingly assailed a mild and amiable gentleman; your charge is as unjust as your manner is coarse and vulgar, and both are as execrable as any thing, save the malice that prompted the attack.”
“Ho! ho! I might as well have rir-roused a hive of hornets. You black-coats fight among you-yourselves like cat and dog, but you will not allow others to interfere with the claw-hoth, I perceive.”
“The deevil stop your tongue, but it’s gleg the nicht, Jack Rivers,” said the host; “can you no gie us peace?—sure nae ither man would insult the rector.”
“Ho! ho! but you’re in a wonderful pucker, Mr Numskull. Let the rector defend himself.”
“Mr B—— is too gentle a character to manage you,” said the priest.
“Your greatest enemy wo-on’t brand you with that crime,” replied Rivers, “for you ride rough-shod over all that come in your way.”
“Nothing gives me greater pleasure, I admit, when I meet such characters as you; for history furnishes no likeness of you, and among living men we would seek in vain for your fellow.”
“Ho! ho! your French politeness is less polished than stringent to-night, I think. I don’t admire it much. I would rather see your native talent in its native Irish dress. Out with the sentiments of your heart, plainly, man, and at once say, ‘Out of h——, Rivers, you’re matchless.’”
“Oh no, I cannot profit by your advice. I felt my own want of ability, and therefore left the picture to be dashed off by an abler hand. The truthfulness of your sketch no person will venture to dispute.”