SPECIMENS OF HUSH FAITH. 61 



" f Och !' sis he, ' we'll be singin' hems an' saams, and suppin' am- 

 brozia.' 



" Murther ! but this bother'd me clane out, for the divil a bit iv me 

 could make out what was ambrozia. 



" ' Sur/ sis I, not knowing what I'd say, ' If your riverince 

 plaises, sur, what's ambrozia ? for the niver a bit o' me ever tasted 

 bite or sup iv id in all my born days ' sis I. 



' e c Why/ sis he, f ambrozia ambrozia you know is ambro- 

 zia.' 



" ' Och ! is it, sur?' sis I ' thank you kindly, your riverince ; I un- 

 derstands it now intirely an' complate ; (though the divil a wiser my 

 self was all the time). 



" ' Ah ! thin, father Muluahy,' sis I, < if you plaise/ sis I, f will 

 Oliver Cromwell be in hiven ?' 



" ' To be sure he will,' sis he, ' if he repinted iv his sins an' died 

 in the thrue church, like a good Catholic,' sis he. 



" e An', sur,' sis I, ' will Owen Rowan O'Neale be there ?' * 



" ' There can be no manner of doubt iv that,' sis he, ' if so be 

 that he confessed his sins, an' repinted an' got absolushin.' 



" ' Will, thin, Father Muluahy/ sis I, ' you take this air (ear) 

 down aff me/ sis I, ' but there'll be a row atween Owen Rowan 

 O'Neale an' Oliver Cromwell.' 



" ' What, you spalpeen/ sis he, in a tuntherin' big passion, ' what, 

 a row afore all the saints, an' Saint Pathrick himself to the fore ?' 



" ' By my sowl/ sis I, ' Father Muluahy, Owen Rowan O'Neale 

 will have one poultrogne at Oliver Cromwell before Saint Pathrick 

 himself (although he's got a good eye for a row, an' why would'nt 

 he ?) knows a single thing about it at all, at all, that he will/ 



(t Wid that, Father Muluahy was risin' iv the divils own heat and 

 passhin ; whin myself took to my throtthers, an' run off, afeard he'd 

 take the absolushin aff me, an' the nixt fair so handy by, an' I to be 

 in id, plaise the saints." 



HOW TO SAVE ONE S BACON. 



EARLY one fine morning, as Terence O'Fleary was hard at work 

 in his potatoe-garden, he was accosted by his gossip, Mick Casey, 

 who he perceived had his Sunday clothes on. 



" God's 'bud ! Terry, man, what would you be afther doing there 

 wid them praties, an' Phelim O'Loughlan's berrin' goin to take 

 place ? Come along, ma bochel ! sure the praties will wait." 



" Och ! no, sis Terry ! I must dig this ridge for the childer's 

 breakfast, an' thin I'm goin' to confesshin to Father O'Higgins, who 

 houlds a stashin beyont there at his own house." 



"Bother take the stashin!" sis Mick, "sure that 'ud wait, too." 

 But Terence was not to be persuaded. 



Away went Mick to the berrin' ; and Terence, having finished 

 " wid the praties," as he said, went over to Father O'Higgins, where 

 he was shewn into the kitchen, to wait his turn for confession. He 

 had not been long standing there before the kitchen-fire, when his 



* An Irish chieftain much opposed to Cromwell. 



