“Well, then, in that case,” proceeded the kind-hearted priest, “I think you had better take a tumbler of punch: it will comfort you, and make you sleep like a top.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied the curate, “I am much obliged to you; but I don't require it, I have no particular wish for it.”
“But I tell you, man alive, that it will do you good; and lest you might feel solitary, I think I will take one with you, merely to keep you in countenance;—here Katty!”
Katty, a complacent, kind-looking woman, somewhat past the middle period of life, then made her appearance. “Well, your reverence?”
“Get hot water and tumblers—Father Pettier is starved after his long ride such a night, and must have a tumbler of punch to warm him, poor fellow, and I am going to keep him in countenance; and see, Katty, bring the poteen that's in Ould Broadbottom, at the right-hand side o' the cubbard. Stir the fire a little, Pettier, and throw on a sod or two—it's getting dull.”
This was complied with; and Father Peter observed, after he had trimmed the grate a little:—
“The country, sir, is in a frightful state. This tithe rebellion is quite general. On my way out to Drumfurrar and home again, I met large crowds on the roads, cold as the night is; and on speaking to, and remonstrating with them, upon meeting and being abroad at such hours, they desired me to mind my own business, and allow them to mind theirs. The country is literally alive with them night and day.”
“Very well,” replied Father Anthony, “let them work out their own purposes, provided they keep within the limits of the law. You know the Established Church is nothing else than an English garrison to support and keep alive British interests in this country; but the people are going the right way to work; for I tell you, Pettier, that, by strictly observing the doctrine of passive resistance, they will starve the same garrison clane and clear out o' the country. And won't that be a great day for Ireland, Pettier?”
“Yes, sir, no doubt of it; but in the meantime the unfortunate parsons are suffering dreadfully: many of them are starving literally, and it is those who have not hoarded up the mammon of unrighteousness, but have been charitable and benevolent to the poor, who are now suffering most.”
“Ay, faith, that's not a bad thought, Pettier; but I tell you the mammon of unrighteousness is by no means a bad thing. We may say as we will, we priests and parsons, but I say to you, what is a man worth in this world without money? Not a thraneen. A complete nonenity, and sorras thing else. And whisper, Pettier; what is the starving of the parsons to us? They had the fat an' marrow of the land long, enough, and I think it's full time that we should come in for a lick at last. Think of you or I living to see ourselves rolling about in a rich carriage, with a lump of a mithre, like a pair of ass's ears stuck together, painted on the outride of it, and we waiting, and drinkn' of the best. Arra, salvation to me, but the prospect's a born beauty, so it is, and will be rayalized yet, plaise God.”