ert the world, no race has provided so many missionaries,
no race has preached the gospel more frequently to the heathen; and
once we realise that we have to die, and very soon, and that the
Catholic Church is the only true church, our ideas about race and
nationality fade from us. They come to seem very trite and foolish. We
are here, not to make life successful and triumphant, but to gain
heaven. That is the truth, and it is to the honour of the Irish people
that they have been selected by God to preach the truth, even though
they lose their nationality in preaching it. I do not expect you to
accept these opinions. I know that you think very differently, but
living here I have learned to acquiesce in the will of God."

The priest stopped speaking suddenly, like one ashamed of having
expressed himself too openly, and soon after we were met by a number of
peasants, and the priest's attention was engaged; the inspector of the
relief works had to speak to him; and I did not see him again until
dinner-time.

"You have given them hope," he said.

This was gratifying to hear, and the priest sat listening while I told
him of the looms already established in different parts of the country.
We talked about half an hour, and then, like one who suddenly
remembers, the priest got up and fetched his knitting.

"Do you knit every evening?"

"I have got into the way of knitting lately; it passes the time."

"But do you never read?" I asked, and looked towards the book-shelves.

"I used to read a great deal. But there wasn't a woman in the parish
that could turn a heel properly, so that I had to learn to knit."

"Do you like knitting better than reading?" I asked, feeling ashamed of
my curiosity.

"I have constantly to attend sick-calls, and if one is absorbed in a
book one experiences a certain reluctance in putting it aside."

"The people are very inconsiderate. Now, why did that man put off
coming to fetch you till eleven o'clock last night? He knew his wife
was ill."

"Sometimes one is apt to think them inconsiderate."

"The two volumes of miracle plays!"

"Yes, and that's another danger, a book puts all kinds of ideas and
notions into one's head. The idea of that playhouse came out of those
books."

"But," I said, "you do not think that God sent the storm because He did
not wish a play to be performed."

"One cannot judge God's designs. Whether God sent the storm or whether
it was accident must remain a matter