“Come,” said he, with a very droll expression of countenance, shaking the plate at the same time up near my brother's nose,—“Come, Mr. D'Arcy, down with your offerings, if you wish to have a friend with St. Peter when you go as far as the gates; down with your money, sir, and you shall be remembered, depend upon it.”
“Ah,” said my brother, pulling out a guinea, “I would with the greatest pleasure; but I fear this guinea is not orthodox. I'm afraid it has a heretical mark upon it.”
“In that case,” replied his Reverence laughing heartily, “your only plan is to return it to the bosom of the church, by laying it on the plate here—it will then be within the pale, you know.”
This reply produced a great deal of good-humor among that part of the crowd which immediately surrounded them—not excepting his nearest relations, who laughed heartily—
“Well,” said my brother, as he laid it on the plate, “how many prayers will you offer up in my favor for this?”
“Leave that to myself,” said his Reverence, looking at the money; “it will be before you, I say, when you go to St. Peter.”
He then held the plate over to me in a droll manner; and I added another guinea to my brother's gift; for which I had the satisfaction of having my name called out so loud, that it might be heard a quarter of a mile off.
“God bless you, sir,” said the priest, “and I thank you.”
“John,” said I, when he left us, “I think that is a pleasant and rather a sensible man?”
“He's as jovial a soul,” replied my brother, “as ever gave birth to a jest, and he sings a right good song. Many a convivial hour have he and I spent together; and a more hospitable man besides, never yet existed. Although firmly attached to his own religion, he is no bigot; but, on the contrary, an excellent, liberal, and benevolent man.”