old man's eye, it was clear to see that his
triumph consisted in this,--that not only he had but one Protestant
in the parish, but that that Protestant should have learned so little
from his religion.

But this is an episode. And nowadays no episodes are allowed.

And now Mr. Carter had come over to see that if possible certain
English funds were distributed according to the wishes of the
generous English hearts by whom they had been sent. For as some
English, such as the three Miss Walkers, feared on the one hand that
the Babylonish woman so rampant in Ireland might swallow up their
money for Babylonish purposes; so, on the other hand, did others
dread that the too stanch Protestantism of the church militant in
that country might expend the funds collected for undoubted bodily
wants in administering to the supposed wants of the soul. No such
faults did, in truth, at that time prevail. The indomitable force of
the famine had absolutely knocked down all that; but there had been
things done in Ireland, before the famine came upon them, which gave
reasonable suspicion for such fears.

Mr. Townsend among others had been very active in soliciting aid
from England, and hence had arisen a correspondence between him and
Mr. Carter; and now Mr. Carter had arrived at Drumbarrow with a
respectable sum to his credit at the provincial bank, and an intense
desire to make himself useful in this time of sore need. Mr. Carter
was a tall, thin, austere-looking man; one, seemingly, who had
macerated himself inwardly and outwardly by hard living. He had a
high, narrow forehead, a sparse amount of animal development, thin
lips, and a piercing, sharp, gray eye. He was a man, too, of few
words, and would have been altogether harsh in his appearance had
there not been that in the twinkle of his eye which seemed to say
that, in spite of all that his gait said to the contrary, the cockles
of his heart might yet be reached by some play of wit--if only the
wit were to his taste.

Mr. Carter was a man of personal means, so that he not only was not
dependent on his profession, but was able--as he also was willing--to
aid that profession by his liberality. In one thing only was he
personally expensive. As to his eating and drinking it was, or might
have been for any solicitude of his own, little more than bread
and water. As for the comforts of home, he had none, for since his
ordination his missions had ever been migrating. But he always
dres