"'I've an idea that I've too many fleas about me to confess to you just now, Father M'Grath, and that's the truth on it. So a pleasant walk back to you.'
"So you'll perceive, my son, that having got all the information from Mrs O'Rourke, it's back I went to Ballyhinch, till I heard it whispered that there were doings down at the old house at Ballycleuch. Off I set, and went to the house itself, as priests always ought to be welcomed at births, and marriages, and deaths, being, as you know, of great use on such occasions--when who should open the door but Father O'Toole, the biggest rapparee of a priest in the whole of Ireland. Didn't he steal a horse, and only save his neck by benefit of clergy? and did he ever give absolution to a young woman without making her sin over again? 'What may be your pleasure here, Father M'Grath?' says he, holding the door with his hand.
"'Only just to call and hear what's going on.'
"'For the matter of that,' says he, 'I'll just tell you that we're all going on very well; but ar'n't you ashamed of yourself, Father M'Grath, to come here to interfere with my flock, knowing that I confess the house altogether?'
"'That's as may be,' says I; 'but I only wanted to know what the lady had brought into the world.'
"'Indeed!' says I; 'many thanks for the information; and pray what is it that Mary Sullivan has brought into the world?'
"'That's a _child_ too,' says he; 'and now that you know all about it, good evening to you, Father M'Grath.' And the ugly brute slammed the door right in my face.
"'Who stole a horse?' cries I; but he didn't hear me--more's the pity.
"So you'll perceive, my dear boy, that I have found out something, at all events, but not so much as I intended; for I'll prove to Father O'Toole that he's no match for Father M'Grath. But what I find out must be reserved for another letter, seeing that it's not possible to tell it to you in this same. Praties look well, but somehow or another, _clothes_ don't grow upon trees in ould Ireland; and one of your half-quarterly bills, or a little prize-money, if it found its way here, would add not a little to the respectability of the family appearance. Even my cassock is becoming too _holy_ for a parish priest; not that I care about it so much, only Father O'Toole, the baste! had on a bran new one--not that I believe that he ever came honestly by it, as I have by mine--but, get it how you may, a new gown always looks better than an old one, that's certain. So no more at present from your loving friend and confessor,