“Very well,” replied the other, “I make jou a present of the two fair rustics; give me the interesting Maria. Ah, Harry, see what education and manner do. Maria is a delightful girl.”
“She is an amiable and a good girl,” said her brother; “but, in point of personal attractions, quite inferior to either of the two we have been speaking of.”
“Finigan,” said Hycy—“I beg your pardon, O'Finigan—the great O'Finigan, Philomath—are you a good judge of beauty?”
“Why, then, Mr. Hycy,” replied the pedagogue, “I think, above all subjects, that a thorough understanding of that same comes most natural to an Irishman. It is a pleasant topic to discuss at all times.”
“Much pleasanter than marriage, I think,” said Clinton, smiling.
“Ah, Mr. Clinton,” replied the other, with a shrug, “de mortuis nil nisi bonum; but as touching beauty, in what sense do you ask my opinion?”
“Whether now, for instance, would your learned taste prefer Miss Cavanagh or Miss Dora M'Mahon? and give your reasons.”
“Taste, Mr. Hycy, is never, or at least seldom, guided by reason; the question, however, is a fair one.”
“One at least on a fair subject,” observed Clinton.
“Very well said, Mr. Clinton,” replied the schoolmaster, with a grin—“there goes wit for us, no less—and originality besides. See what it is to have a great janius!—ha! ha! ha!”