“By what rule Pether?”
“Why, sir, there's a phrase in Corderius's Colloquies that I could condimn you from, if I had the book.”
“Pether, you think you're a scholar, and, to do you justice, you're cute enough sometimes; but, Pether, you didn't travel for it, as I did—nor were you obliged to lep out of a college windy in Paris, at the time of the French Revolution, for your larning, as I was: not you, man, you ate the king's mutton comfortably at home in Maynooth, instead of travelling like your betters.”
“I appale to this gintleman,” said Father Peter turning to the stranger. “Are you a classical scholar, sir—that is, do you understand Latin?”
“What kind?” demanded the stranger dryly.
“If you have read Corderius's Colloquies, it will do,” said Father Peter.
“No, sir,” replied the other, “but I have read his commentator, Bardolphus, who wrote a treatise upon the Nasus Rubricundus of the ancients.”
“Well, sir, if you did, it's probable that you may be able to understand our dispute, so”—
“Peter, I'm afeard you've got into the wrong box; for I say he's no chicken that's read Nasus Rubricundus, I can tell you that; I had my own trouble with it: but, at any rate, will you take your punch, man alive, and don't bother us with your Latin?”
“I beg your pardon, Father Ned: I insist that. I'm right; and I'll convince you that you're wrong, if God spares me to see Corderius to-morrow.”