Having satisfied himself of this, he got under the shade of a hedge, a movement in which he was instantly imitated by the stranger.
Each stood concealed for some time, with a, hope that the other might advance and turn probably out of his way; but neither seemed disposed to move.

At length, Father Anthony gave a kind of inquisitive, dry cough, by way of experiment, which was instantly responded to by another cough equally dry and mysterious.

These were repeated two or three times without success, when at last Father Anthony advanced a little under shadow of the hedge, and found as before that the strange individual did the same; and thus, in fact, they kept gradually, coughing at each other and approaching until they fairly met face to face, each with a sack upon his shoulders.
"Con M'Mahon!" exclaimed the priest, "why, what on earth brought you out at this hour of the night, and--aisy, what is this you're' carrying ?" "Faix, your reverence," replied the other, "I might as well ask yourself the same two questions." "I know you might," said Father Anthony; "but in the manetime you had better not." The priest spoke like one whose wind had not been improved by the burthen he carried; and M'Mahon, anxious if possible to get rid of him, determined to enter into some conversation that might tire out his strength.

He consequently selected the topic of the day as being best calculated for that purpose.
"Isn't these blessed times that's coming, plaise your reverence," said M'Mahon, "when we'll be done wid these tithes, and have the millstone taken from our necks altogether ?" This was spoken in a most wheedling and insinuating tone replete with the the confidence of one who knew that the stronger he spoke the more satisfaction he would give his auditor, and the more readily he would avert any suspicion as to his object and appearance at such an hour.
"Yes," returned the priest, giving his burthen an uneasy twitch, "we have had too weighty a load upon our shoulders this many a day, and the devil's own predicament it is to be overburthened with anything--we all know that." "Sorra doubt of it," replied the other, easing himself as well as he could by a corresponding hitch; "but it's one comfort to myself anyhow, that I done my duty against the same tithes--an' bad luck to them!" "If you did your duty, you weren't without a good example, at all events," replied the priest; "I taught you how to hate the accursed impost--but at the same time, you know I always told you to make a distinction between the tithes and the--hem--" "An' what, your reverence ?" "Hem--why you know, Con, that we're commanded to love our enemies, and it was upon this ground that I always taught you to make a distinction, as I say, between the tithes and the parsons themselves.

And by the way, now, I don't know but it would be our duty," he proceeded, "to render the same parsons, now that they're suffering, as much good for evil as possible.