His parish lay near a small town in the eastern part of the
county Cork, and for forty-five years he lived amongst his flock,
performing all the duties of his office, and taking his dues (when he got
them) with never-tiring good-humour. But age, that spares not priest nor
layman, had stolen upon Father Frank, and he gradually relinquished to his
younger curates the task of preaching, till at length his sermons dwindled
down to two in the year--one at Christmas, and the other at Easter, at
which times his clerical dues were about coming in. It was on one of these
memorable occasions that I first chanced to hear Father Frank address his
congregation. I have him now before my mind's eye, as he then appeared; a
stout, middle-sized man, with ample shoulders, enveloped in a coat of
superfine black, and substantial legs encased in long straight boots,
reaching to the knee. His forehead, and the upper part of his head, were
bald; but the use of hair-powder gave a fine effect to his massive, but
good-humoured features, that glowed with the rich tint of a hale old age.
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