vate tutor for
fifteen months in the house of one now deceased, whose name I would
gladly mention for honour and affection;--but I withhold my pen. While
he repaid me munificently for my services, he behaved towards me as a
father, or indeed as an elder brother, and instantly made me feel as
a member of his family. His great talents, high professional standing,
nobleness of heart and unfeigned piety, would have made him a most
valuable counsellor to me: but he was too gentle, too unassuming, too
modest; he looked to be taught by his juniors, and sat at the feet of
one whom I proceed to describe.

This was a young relative of his,--a most remarkable man,--who rapidly
gained an immense sway over me. I shall henceforth call him "the Irish
clergyman." His "bodily presence" was indeed "weak!" A fallen cheek,
a bloodshot eye, crippled limbs resting on crutches, a seldom shaven
beard, a shabby suit of clothes and a generally neglected person, drew
at first pity, with wonder to see such a figure in a drawing-room.
It was currently reported that a person in Limerick offered him a
halfpenny, mistaking him for a beggar; and if not true, the story was
yet well invented. This young man had taken high honours in Dublin
University and had studied for the bar, where under the auspices of
his eminent kinsman he had excellent prospects; but his conscience
would not allow him to take a brief, lest he should be selling his
talents to defeat justice. With keen logical powers, he had warm
sympathies, solid judgment of character, thoughtful tenderness, and
total self-abandonment. He before long took Holy Orders, and became
an indefatigable curate in the mountains of Wicklow. Every evening
he sallied forth to teach in the cabins, and roving far and wide
over mountain and amid bogs, was seldom home before midnight. By such
exertions his strength was undermined, and he so suffered in his limbs
that not lameness only, but yet more serious results were feared. He
did not fast on purpose, but his long walks through wild country and
indigent people inflicted on him much severe deprivation: moreover,
as he ate whatever food offered itself,--food unpalatable and often
indigestible to him, his whole frame might have vied in emaciation
with a monk of La Trappe.

Such a phenomenon intensely excited the poor Romanists, who looked
on him as a genuine "saint" of the ancient breed. The stamp of heaven
seemed to them clear in a frame so wasted by austerity,