1830.] The Irish Priest and his Niece. 415 



In the mean time the melancholy revelry went forward, hushed into 

 occasional attention only when some divers-keyed song broke upon 

 the din and clatter of voices; or when some inspired relative of the 

 deceased stood forward, in a sudden frenzy of eloquence, to depict his 

 virtues and bewail his loss.* 



Father Macdermott moved quietly towards a corner, where a middle* 

 aged woman, of the lower class, sat alone. .She appeared to be an 

 observer, rather than a partaker of the merriment. Rut it must not, 

 therefore, be inferred that she was either moody or temperate j for she 

 frequently joined in the loud roar, and never allowed the jorum to pass 

 untasted. Still she did not mingle in the group, but enjoyed it with a 

 sort of solitary recklessness. The priest was soon seared at her side. 

 There was a look of mutual intelligence, checked by strong feelings ; 

 but the embarrassment soon wore off, and an undertoned tete-a-tete 

 ensued. 



" And is the cratur well ?" inquired the woman, in a subdued and 

 uncheerful voice. 



" Hearty hearty !" returned the priest. 



"And how is her sparals 2"t 



" Troth, Mrs. Martin, I can't complain. She's as well as can be 

 expected." These last words were accompanied by a very intelligent 

 smirk, that conveyed a meaning which could not be mistaken. 



" Again ? poor sowl I" and the woman cowered in her corner, and 

 rocked to and fro with an agitated expression of countenance. 



The buzz still rang thrillingly through the low room ; and but snatches 

 of the conversation were here and there audible. 



" Father, avourneen !" exclaimed an old woman, approaching the 

 Priest with great reverence, " how is the niece this blessed night ?" 



" Thank your axing, she's mighty well," returned his Reverence. 



" Ah ! then, wasn't it a pity not to bring her along wid you to 

 the wake ? Sure never a one of her gets any diversion at all, she's so 

 given up to the books and the chapel." 



"True for you," interrupted Mrs. Martin ; " but there's raison in all 

 things. May-be, it's better as it is." 



" What should you mean by that, Mrs. Martin ?" inquired the 

 Priest. 



" Och ! nothing nothing at all. Only it's a sad sight to see a young 

 thing, the likes of her, shut up morning, noon, and night, all as one as 

 a fairy in a 'baccy-box. If the cratur is like other young sowls and 

 why shouldn't she, Father Macdermott ?" whispered Mrs. Martin 

 <( you know best you know best." 



" Well, I wonder at you to put such thoughts in her head. Did you 

 ever know of a priest's niece go gadding abroad like other girls. Am I 

 not saving p the penny for her" and then applying his ear close to 

 her's, he added " won't you be the better of all I have ? You'll be the 

 ruin of her if you don't keep your tongue easy/' 



(t Augh ! it's an ugly deed. What's the use of talking? the heart's 



* This is a very common occurrence at the wakes of the Irish peasantry. Curran is said 

 to have imbibed his earliest taste for oratory from the impassioned address of an old 

 woman on one of these occasions. There is frequently, in their spontaneous laments, an 

 extraordinary mixture of the pathetic and humorous, with poetry and eloquence. 



j- Anglice, animal spirits. 



