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Updated: May 1, 2025
I had arranged to stay with Father MacTurnan till Monday, and I had driven many miles along the road that straggles like a grey thread through the brown bog. On either side there were bog-holes, and great ruts in the road; the horse shied frequently, and once I was preparing to leap from the car, but the driver assured me that the old horse would not leave the road.
"Yes," said his Grace, "do you see it?" "It's under your Grace's hand, those blue papers." "Ah, yes," and his Grace leaned back in his arm-chair, leaving Father MacTurnan standing. "Won't you sit down, Father MacTurnan?" he said casually. "You've been writing to Rome, I see, advocating the revocation of the decree of celibacy.
"The call I received was too distinct and too clear for me to hesitate." "Tell me about this call." Father MacTurnan told the Bishop that the poor man had come out of the work-house because he wanted to be married, and that Mike Mulhare would not give him his daughter until he had earned the price of a pig.
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