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By me sowl, I tell you to your face, that so long; as you take your divinity from the saddler's shop, so long you will have obedient men, but indifferent Catholics." "What!" replied M'Cabe, in a rage, "do you dare to use such language to my face a reprobate a brazen contumacious apostate!
M'Cabe and he had never met, or, at least, never spoke; but the priest had, since the commencement of the new movement, sent him a number of the most ludicrous messages, and transmitted to him, for selection, a large assortment of the most comical and degrading epithets.
He told me that I must spake nary a word about what I've seen and heard, and if I should thry to turn an honest penny by givin' a knowin' wink or two where they wud pay for the same, that 'ud be the ind of Pat M'Cabe at the big office.
Now, it so happened, that on the day in question, Bob was wending his way to Father M'Cabe's, to communicate some matter connected with his religious feelings, and to ask his advice and opinion. "How confoundedly blind the world is," thought Bob, "not to see that Popery " he never called it anything else "is the true faith! Curse me but Priest M'Cabe is a famous fellow!
"No," said Bob; "I will not." "You will then die in mine, of course?" said Mr. M'Cabe. "No," replied Bob; "I will not." "How is that?" said the priest. "Explain yourself," said Mr. Lucre. "I'll die a Christian," replied Bob. "You're both anything but what you ought to be; and if I wasn't on my death-bed you'd hear more of it. Here is a Christian clergyman, and under his ministry I will die."
Lucre, with an interest which he could not conceal; "what has M'Cabe to do with him?" "Why,", returned the woman, "he has made him a Papish, but I want him to die a True Blue, and not shame the family." "I shall attend," said Lucre; "I shall lose no time in attending. What's your husband's name?" "Bob Beatty, sir." "Oh, yes, he is subject to epilepsy." "The same, sir."
If you do not like sentiment and symbolism, you do not like Christmas; go away and celebrate something else; I should suggest the birthday of Mr. M'Cabe. No doubt you could have a sort of scientific Christmas with a hygienic pudding and highly instructive presents stuffed into a Jaeger stocking; go and have it then.
Faitha, sir, there was mighty fine discoorsin' in it about rail-ligion?" "O! the sermon did you hear it, my good man?" "Faitha, sir, I was there sure enough, in spite o' Father M'Cabe, an' all." "Sit down, my good friend, sit down well, you attended the sermon, you say pray how did you like it?"
In that blessed book I read these words this mornin', 'love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and parsecute you. Sir, when I read these words, I felt them slidin' into my heart, and I couldn't help repeatin' them to myself, ever since and, even when Father M'Cabe was playin' his whip about my ears, I was as hard at work prayin' for his sowl."
And, indeed, to tell the truth, a day or two in bed was not calculated to do him the least harm, but a great deal of good; for what, between the united contributions of Father M'Cabe and Bob Beatty, he was by no means an unfit subject for the enjoyment of a few days' retirement from public life. A Beautiful but Cowardly Method of Destroying Female Reputation.
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