430 Father Murphy s Dream. [OCT. 



your little toe pinch you for rain too : and the ducks wander about as 

 if they were after swallowing love-powders, when the weather's going to 

 be uncommon hot. And just like that is a priest's dream, only with this 

 difference that the wonder o' the world, instead of a paltry puddle of 

 a shower, or a splitting heat, is coming upon you. A priest wouldn't 

 waste his time dreaming for rain, hail, or snow, or fine weather, or any 

 thing o' the kind ; for he can get them at any time for the bare asking 

 o' them : no, he dreams for a vortex or a cornucopia ; and them are 

 mysteries that you know nothing at all about. 



The night before the meeting that was last Tuesday (how is your 

 head now, Father Audy ?) we were sitting, Father Audy and myself, 

 settling all the points that were to be unravelled the next day. I don't 

 know how it was, but for the soul of me I couldn't persuade myself but 

 that there was a drop of Protestant poison in the whiskey you know 

 they stop at nothing so I was resolved to see it out, arid then, if I 

 found that they poisoned me, to work a miracle upon myself that would 

 frighten them out of their wits. With this pious resolution, Father 

 Audy and myself penetrated to the very bottom of the only two or three 

 bottles we had ; and then, as well as we could, considering the poison, 

 went to sleep. You may be sure I was determined that if I awoke and 

 found myself dead, not to lose a minute until I'd bring myself to life 

 .again, extract the poison, and send it in a letter to Dr. Doyle. 



I wasn't over an hour in bed, when I thought I heard somebody call- 

 ing, " Father Murphy." " That's me," says I ; " who wants me ?" 

 " Only a friend of your's, Father Tom," says the voice. " It's lucky 

 you're come," says I, thinking it was daylight; "for if you'd been 

 five minutes later, you might be groping for me at the fair of Athy." 



With that, I thought I sat up in my arm-chair, for I had no notion 

 that I was fast asleep in bed ; and who do you think it was that was 

 standing beside me ? You may save yourselves the trouble of guessing, 

 for you couldn't guess who it was if you were to get a new set of eyes, 

 and think until you were stone-blind. It was a beautiful young angel, 

 spick and span out of heaven ; and such an angel as I, that have seen 

 bushels of them, never saw before. 



" The top o' the morning to you, ma'am !" says I, for she was a lady, 

 one of the ould sort " it's welcome you are to me this blessed day." 



" Father Tom," says she, shaking me by the hand as friendly as if 

 she knew me all her life, " I want you to come out and take a walk 

 with me." 



" And what'll you take, ma'am," says I, c( before you go ?" for as I 

 was beholden to her for her goodness, I was bound to treat her respect- 

 fully. 



Never a word she said to that, but putting her finger, that was as white 

 as a shaving, and as taper as sparrow-grass, upon her little mouth, she 

 shook her head, and walked on before me. There she went without 

 making the least noise, just as if her feet for, like yourselves, the angels 

 never wear shoes were made of velvet. Well, I thought, I'd follow 

 her in the same manner ; but, as if there was an evil eye over me, the 

 first step I took I tripped up an old basket that was lying on the ground, 

 and the angel turning one look at me, as much as to say, " What's 

 coming over you, that you're making such a clatter, Father Tom ?" 

 shook her pretty little hand at me, and then, with a beautiful laugh all 

 over her face, walked on again as if nothing at all had happened 



