("Give him the money, Pether," from a hundred voices--"give his
Reverence the money, you nager you--give him the silver, you dirty
spalpeen you--hand it out, you misert.")

"Pether, if you don't give it dacently, I'll not take it; and in that
case--"

"Here, here, your Reverence--here it is; sure I wouldn't have your
ill-will for all I'm worth."

"Why, you nager, if I wasn't the first orathor livin', barrin' Cicero or
Demosthenes himself, I couldn't schrew a penny out o' you! Now, Pether,
there's a specimen of logic for you; an' if it wasn't good, depind upon
it the money would be in your pocket still. I've never known you to give
a penny for any charitable purpose, since ever I saw your face: but I'm
doin' a good action in your behalf for once; so if you have any movin'
words to say to the money in question, say them, for you'll never finger
it more."

A burst of the most uproarious mirth followed this manoeuvre, in which
the simple priest himself joined heartily; whilst the melancholy
of Peter's face was ludicrously contrasted with the glee which
characterized those who surrounded him.

"Hem!--Secondly--A man, you see, may have money, or he may not, when his
follow creature who stands in need of it makes an appale to his dacency
and his feelings; and sorry I'd be to think that there's a man before
me, or a woman either, who'd refuse to assist the distresses of any
one, of any creed, church, or persuasion, whether white, black, or