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She has taken such an aversion to Whitford since Argemone's death, that she has ceased to have any connection with that unhealthy locality, beyond the popular and easy one of rent-receiving. O'Blareaway has never entered the parish to his knowledge since Mr.
Now Argemone did not think the Reverend Panurgus O'Blareaway, incumbent of Lower Whitford, at all a sainted young man, but, on the contrary, a very vulgar, slippery Irishman; and she had, somehow, tired of her late favourite, Lord Vieuxbois; so she answered tossily enough, 'Really, mamma, a week of Lord Vieuxbois will be too much.
O'Blareaway, who has been discovered not to be quite as young as he appeared, his graces being principally owing to a Brutus wig, which he has now wisely discarded. Mrs.
Two sermons were preached in Whitford on the day of his funeral; one by Mr. O'Blareaway, on the text from Job, provided for such occasions; 'When the ear heard him, then it blessed him, etc. etc.: the other by the Baptist preacher, on two verses of the forty-ninth Psalm 'They fancy that their houses shall endure for ever, and call the lands after their own names.
'And she just the beautifulest creature that ever spilte shoe-leather, barring Lady Philandria Mountflunkey, of Castle Mountflunkey, Quane's County, that shall be nameless. 'Upon my word, O'Blareaway, you seem to be better acquainted with my matters than I am. Don't you think, on the whole, it might be better to mind your own business? 'Me own business!
'One word more Unless you tell your father within twenty-four hours after receiving this letter, I will. As Lancelot walked up to the Priory that morning, the Reverend Panurgus O'Blareaway dashed out of a cottage by the roadside, and seized him unceremoniously by the shoulders.
O'Blareaway complained sadly to me the other day that the poor-rates were becoming 'heavier and heavier' had nearly reached, indeed, what they were under the old law. . . . But there is one who does not complain, but gives and gives, and stints herself to give, and weeps in silence and unseen over the evils which she has yearly less and less power to stem.
Lavington now sits in state under her husband's ministry, as the leader of the religious world in the fashionable watering-place of Steamingbath, and derives her notions of the past, present, and future state of the universe principally from those two meek and unbiased periodicals, the Protestant Hue- and-Cry and the Christian Satirist, to both of which O'Blareaway is a constant contributor.
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