“None of your back jaw,” said M'Cabe; “don't you know, sirra, that in spite of this Methodist Lord and the proud parson's temptations, you are commanded to renounce the devil, the world, and the flesh? Don't you know that?”
“But,” replied Darby, “are we commanded to renounce the devil, the world, and a bit o' fresh mait?”
“Ha—you snivelling scoundrel,” said the curate, “you've got their arguments already I see—but I know how to take them out of you, before you leave my hands.”
“Surely,” continued Darby, “you wouldn't have a naked man renounce a warm pair o' breeches, or a good coat to his back—does the Scriptur forbid him that?”
“You will have it,” replied the curate, who felt for the moment astounded at Darby's, audacity, “you are determined on it; but I will have patience with you yet, a little, till I see what brought you over, if I can. Don't you admit, as I said, that you are commanded to renounce the devil, the world, and the flesh—particularly the flesh, sirra, for there's a peculiar stress laid upon that in the Greek.”
“Well, but does it go in the Greek against a flitch o' bacon and a wisp o' greens, your reverence? Faith, beggin' your pardon, if you were to see some o' the new convarts, how comfortable they are wid their good frieze coats, and their new warm blankets, sittin' beside their good fires, you'd maybe not blame them so much as you do. Your religion, sir, only provides for the sowl; but theirs, you see, provides any how for the body—and faith, I say, the last is a great advantage in these hard times.”
The priest's astonishment increased at the boldness with which Darby continued the argument, or rather, which prompted him to argue at all. He looked at him, and gave a smile.
“Well,” said he, almost forgetting his anger—for he was by no means deficient in a perception of the humorous—“but no matter—it will do by and by. You villain,” said he, forced into the comic spirit of the argument; “do you not know that it said—cursed is he who becometh an apostate, and eateth the flesh of heretics.”
“Aitin' the flesh of heretics is forbidden, I dare say, sure enough,” replied Darby; “an' troth it's a commandment not likely to be broken—for dirty morsels they are, God knows; but is there anything said against aitin' the flesh of their sheep or cows—or that forbids us to have a touch at a good fat goose, or a turkey, or any harmless little trifle o' the kind? Troth myself never thought, sir, that beef or mutton was of any particular religion before.”
“Yes, sir; beef and mutton, when they're good, are Catholic—but when they're lean, why, like a bad Christian, they're Protestant, of course, and that's well known,” said the priest, still amused, against his will, by Darby's arguments.