t argue
with enlightened people. They have not a leg to stand upon, and they
know it.

"Consider the fulminations of Archbishop Walsh with regard to that
Dublin Freemason Bazaar in aid of orphan children. As you must have
heard, the Sacraments were refused to any Catholic attending this
purely charitable movement. The Church said in effect--Any one who
aids the orphans of freemasons by going to this bazaar, or by
patronising the function, whether directly or indirectly, will be
damned everlastingly. And the Catholics kept away, frightened by this
threat. What would you expect of a people who believe such rubbish? Do
you think that a people powerfully influenced, supremely influenced,
by the word of a priest are fit to govern themselves? Can you depend
on the loyalty of the Catholic priesthood? You surely know better than
that. Suppose you gave Ireland Home Rule, and the Church turned rusty?
With matters in the hands of an Irish Parliament, who would have the
pull in weight of influence, John Bull or the priests? You are
walking into a snare with your eyes open. Soon you will be punching
your own head and calling yourself a fool. And you will be quite
right. England is giving herself away at the bidding of a crowd of
fellows who in Ireland are not received into decent society, and few
of whom could get 'tick' for a week's board or a week's washing. Not
that the latter would be much hardship. Clean linen is a novelty to
the bulk of them. And seventy-one out of eighty of these upstarts must
do the bidding of the priests.

"Poor old Bull! The fine fellow he was. Respected by everybody. Strong
but good-humoured, never hurting a soul. Slapping his breeches pocket
now and then, and looking round the world with an eye that seemed to
say, 'I could buy and sell the lot of ye; look what a fine fellow I
am!' And he was. And he knew it, too. His only fault. Ready to lend a
deserving friend a trifle, and apt to poke his nose into what didn't
concern him, especially when a small country was being put upon. Then
John would come up and say, 'Let him alone, will yer.' A
laughing-stock in his old age. But yesterday he might have stood
before the world: now none so poor to do him reverence,--Shakespeare!
That's what's coming. Poor old Bull! In his dotage making a rod to
whip himself. Well, well."

There are Presbyterians at Salthill. Wherever they are they always
wear good coats, have good houses, well-clad children. To be
comfortably