funeral, sure enough, and a dacent one it was, for indeed she was a
woman that had everybody's good word--and, between you and me, she made
a happy death, that's as far as we can judge here; for, after all, there
may be danger, Phaddy, there may be danger, you understand--however,
it's your own business, and your duty, too, to think of that; but I
believe you're not the man that would be apt to forget her."

"Phaddhy, ye thief o' the world," said Jim Dillon, when Father Philemy
was gone, there's no comin' up to ye; how could you make sich a fool of
his Rev'rence, as to tell im that Katty was dead, and that you had
only four childher, an' you has eleven o' them, an' the wife in good
health?"

"Why, jist, Tim," replied Phaddhy, with his usual shrewdness, "to tache
his Reverence himself to practise truth a little; if he didn't know
that I got the stockin' of guineas and the Linaskey farm by my brother
Barney's death, do ye think that he'd notish me at all at all?--not
himself, avick; an' maybe he won't be afther comin' round to me for a
sack of my best oats,* instead of the bushel I used to give him, and
houldin' a couple of stations wid me every year."

* The priest accompanied by a couple of servants each
with a horse and sack, collects from such of his
parishioners as can afford it, a quantity of oats,
varying with the circumstances of the donor. This
collection--called _Questing_--is voluntary on the part
of his parishioners who may refuse it it they wish;
very few are found however, hardy enough to risk the
obloquy of declining to contribute, and the consequence
is that the custom operates with as much force as if it