as much power over obstinate priests, as over stubborn horses, and that you could whisper old Delany into

reason."

And may be I have," said the Whisperer. "I know," said Jerry, sighing, "that I had rather than twenty pounds that your words were true."

66

Twenty pounds!" said Terence O'Sullivan, ye quite in earnest ?"

"Perfectly so," said the amorous bachelor.

"Well," quoth the Whisperer, "have it your own way; a time may come, my boy, when you would give twenty pounds to get rid of a wife, as I know for a reason I'll not disclose. But I was not joking in the least. Give me the twenty pounds, and if you are not married by this day week to Mary Mulcahy, may never set foot in

stirrup to the hour of my death."

Jerry Ryan did not half believe the Whisperer, and yet his fame was great. At length he made up his mind, and gave Terence the twenty pounds, making him swear upon the mass-book, that if he did not succeed, the money should be put back again safe and sound in his hands.

Away went the Whisperer, but not at once to the priest. He knew the world better; and he waited until after dinner, when his reverence was over his tumbler of punch. Nothing softens a man's heart so much, as Terence knew from his own experience.

"Is it about the bay mare you are come to me,

Terence, my friend? You'll take a glass of punch, I am sure."

"Ay," replied the Whisperer, or two of them if it would do any good to your reverence."

So he sate down, and they talked away as fast as they could, about the heat of the weather, the potatoe crop, the price of whiskey, Squire Johnson's last hunt, Catholic emancipation, the new road under the hill-every thing in the world. And at last, when the priest was in the height of good humour, the Whisperer brought in the business of Jerry Ryan, in the easiest way he could." "Don't talk to me about it," said the Doctor, "Terence O'Sullivan, but drink your punch in peaceit can't be. They are too near a-kin. Its clearly against the law of the church."

And he quoted Saint Augustine, and Thomas Aquinas, and Sardanapalus, and Nebuchadnezzar, and other fathers of the church; which he well knew how to do, being regularly bred in the famous University of Salamanca, where he took his degree of Doctor of Canon law, in the year eighty-one.

The Whisperer waited to the end of the Doctor's speech, and then said:

man.

"It's a mighty fine thing, Doctor, to be so learned a How your head holds all that knowledge, is more than I can say."

On which the Doctor smiled.

"But," continued Terence," there was not a Saint

among them who would not listen to reason, and if your reverence would just let me whisper one minute to you, may be you'd think better of it.”

"Whisper to me, man," said the priest, "do you take me for a horse."

"God forbid," said the Whisperer, "that I should compare your reverence to a brute baste.

try."

But let me

Well," said the priest, "this is one of the foolishest things I ever heard of; but if you insist upon it, you may follow your own vagary, only I tell you its of no use, for I never

"Don't be rash, father Delany," said the Whisperer, and putting his mouth close to the ear of the priest, he whispered something to him.

"O!" said the priest, "but you are a wonderful man, Terence O'Sullivan-that alters the case. I see the thing in quite a different light. The poor young creatures! Send them to me, and we'll settle the matter." And he buttoned up his breeches pocket.

Now what did the Whisperer say?—I can't guess. But whatever it was, Jerry Ryan and Mary Mulcahy were married that day week, and the Whisperer danced at the wedding.

"It would be a quare (queer) thing," said he, " if I, who could tame the strongest horse in the country, would not be able to tame an ould priest."

STANZAS

Written on seeing Flags and other Ensigns of War, hanging in a Country Church.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

I.

OH! why amid this hallowed scene,
Should signs of mortal feud be found;
Why seek with such vain gauds to wean
Our thoughts from holier relics 'round?
More fitting emblems here abound

Of glory's bright, unfading wreath ;—
Conquests, with purer triumphs crowned ;
Proud victories over Sin aad Death!

II.

Of these how many records rise
Before my chastened spirit now;
Memorials, pointing to the skies,
Of Christian battles fought below.

ON SEEING FLAGS IN A COUNTRY CHURCH. 111

What need of yon stern things to shew

That darker deeds have oft been done?

Is't not enough for Man to know

He lives but through the blood of ONE!

III.

And thou, mild delegate of God,

Whose words of balm, and guiding light, Would lead us, from earth's drear abode, To worlds with bliss for ever bright,— What have the spoils of mortal fight

To do with themes 'tis thine to teach ?

Faith's saving grace-each sacred rite

Thou know'st to practice as to preach!

IV.

The blessings of the contrite heart,

Thy bloodless conquests best proclaim; The tears from sinners' eyes that start, Are meetest records of thy fame.

The glory that may grace thy name

From loftier triumphs sure must spring; The grateful thoughts thy worth may claim, Trophies like these can never bring!

V.

Then, wherefore on this sainted spot,

With peace and love, and hope imbued,—