“Bliss my sowl! and Briney, did ye consther that out of yer own head?”
“Hogh! that's little of it. If ye war to hear me consther Gallus Gallinaceus, a dunghill cock?”
“And, Briney, are ye in Greek at all yet?”
“No, Phaddhy, I'll not be in Greek till I'm in Virgil and Horace, and thin I'll be near finished.”
“And how long will it be till that, Briney?”
“Why, Phaddhy, you know I'm only a year and a half at the Latin, and in two years more I'll be in the Greek.”
“Do ye think will ye ever be as larned as! Father Philemy, Briney?”
“Don't ye, know whin I'm a clargy I will but I'm only a lignum sacerdotis yet, Phaddhy.”
“What's ligdum saucerdoatis, Briney?”
“A block of a priest, Phaddhy.”