And that's what we'll be, when the Irish is gone from us.
Wouldn't there be work enough for you to do, now, if you were to buy Thady Durkan's boat, and stay here and help to keep the people to the old tongue and the old ways ?' Hyacinth shook his head.

His mood was altogether too heroic to allow him to think highly of what the priest said to him.

He loved the Irish language as his native speech--loved it, too, as a symbol, and something more, perhaps--as an expression of the nationality of Ireland.

But it did not seem to him to be a very essential thing, and to spend his life talking it and persuading other people to talk it was an obscure kind of patriotism which made no strong appeal to him--which, indeed, could not stand compared to the glory of drawing the sword.
'You've listened to what I've told you, Father Moran, and you say that you understand what I feel, but I don't think you really do, or else you wouldn't fancy that I could be satisfied to stay here.

What is it you ask of me?
To spend my time fishing and talking Irish and dancing jigs.
Ah! it's well enough I'd like to do it.