Patrick: "this is our chapter-night, and myself and brethren are here
'assembled on merry occasion.'--You know who I am?" "God bless your
reverence," said Larry, "it's I that do well. Often did I see your
picture hanging over the door of places where it is"--lowering his
voice--"pleasanter to be than here, buried under an ould church." "You
may as well say it out, Larry," said St. Patrick; "and don't think I'm
going to be angry with you about it; for I was once flesh and blood
myself. But you remember, the other night, saying that you would think
nothing of pulling your master out of purgatory, if you could get at him
there, and appealing to me to stand by your words.
"Y-e-e-s," said Larry, most mournfully; for he recollected the
significant look he had received from the picture. "And," continued St.
Patrick, "you remember also that I gave you a wink, which you know is as
good, any day, as a nod--at least, to a blind horse." "I'm sure, your
reverence," said Larry, with a beating heart, "is too much of a gintleman
to hould a poor man hard to every word he may say of an evening, and
therefore"--"I was thinking so," said the saint, "I guessed you'd prove a
poltroon when put to the push.
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