I will, with these conditions, give you a letter to an old man in Dublin, who may give you, on this very subject, more information than any other person I know, with one exception." "My dear sir," replied the stranger, getting on his legs--"I am quite satisfied with that proposal, and I feel that it is very kind of you to make it." "Yes, but you won't go," said the priest, "till you take some refreshment.

It's now past two o'clock." "I am much obliged to you," replied the other, "but I never lunch." "Not a foot you'll stir then till you take something--I don't want you to lunch--a bit and a sup just--come, don't refuse now, for I say you must." The other smiled, and replied--"But, I assure you, my dear sir, I couldn't--I breakfasted late." "Not a matter for that, you must have something, I say--a drop of dram then--pure poteen--or maybe you'd prefer a glass of wine?
say which; for you must taste either the one or the other"-- and as he spoke, with a good-humored laugh, he deliberately locked the door, and put the key in his pocket--"It's an old proverb," he added, "that those who won't take are never ready to give, and I'll think you after all but a poor-hearted creature if you refuse it.

At any rate, consider yourself a prisoner until you comply." "Well, then," replied our strange friend, still smiling, "since your hospitality will force me, at the expense of my liberty, I think I must--a glass of sherry then, since you are so kind." "Ah," replied his reverence, "I see you don't know what's good--that's the stuff," he added, pointing to the poteen, "that would send the radical heat to the very ends of your nails--I never take more than a single tumbler after my dinner, but that's my choice." The stranger then joined him in a glass of sherry, and they proceeded to Mr.Birney's..