UNFAIR PROTESTANT ATTACKS

New Zealand Tablet, 9 August 1917, Page 6

UNFAIR PROTESTANT ATTACKS

It is but natural that Lord Bryce and other Protestants should advocate the doctrines of their sects. That Catholics of course understand. But why should they not do so without criticising Catholics unfairly ? Their , attacks upon the Spaniards are endless, and have done a vast amount of mischief, as has been very plainly evident to visitors to the country since the commencement of the war. The chief aim of religion is to teach spiritual truths and to maintain a high standard of morality. We do not think that in these matters the Spaniards need fear comparison with any Protestant people. Witnesses who have had the ample opportunities for studying their lives afforded by long residence amongst them have often attested that the pictures of them drawn by Protestant controversialists are gross caricatures. As for Portugal, for what is amiss in the moral condition of the country the State and not the Church is to blame. Neither -in Spain nor Portugal, nor amongst the South Americans has Protestantism in the centuries of its existence wrought any work for morality comparable with what the Catholic Church has done. The people have refused to accept it. Its efforts to win them have proved failures. Such failures are no doubt painful to reflecting Protestants, but they are not redeemed by onslaughts on the Catholic Church.

then, with so many and such wholesale evictions staring us in the face, that there should be agrarian discontent too often breaking forth in wild justice of self-defence or banded violence?” v

“That is, that they would murder us is it?” .said Mr. Baker; for Mr. Baker always took care to identify himself with the higher class, though on account, of his harmless blustering disposition he often, unconsciously, told bitter truths against them.” “That they would murder us, is it? ay, the pa- hem, ha ! yes, they would if they could ; but you see I don’t care that about them,” and Mr. Baker held up a small teaspoonful of punch for inspection, and then drank it off. “Not that, faith! Hand the decanter down, Frank, my boy ; that will do. Why, you are taking nothing. I would recommend it to you ; nothing like a good glass of punch to keep up the spirits; I could never have done all I did but for it.” “There is no danger, Mr. Baker, that any one will attack you; you have given them too many wholesome lessons to mind you now,” said Kate, raising her eyes from the book, and looking smilingly at Mr. Baker.

As I said before, or, as I should have said, if I did not say it, Mr. Baker was a great admirer of the fair sex, and though a heavy-looking man, never missed acknowledging a compliment from a lady, so he got up to make a bow, but in attempting to do so he upset his glass of punch, and walked on Fid. It happened that Fid and the cat were enjoying themselves most comfortably on the hearth-rug, so when Mr. Baker disturbed their tete-a-tete. Fid protested against it in sundry angry yelps. “Choke that dog!” said Mr. O’Donnell.

“Poor little Fid : come here, poor thing. Where are you hurt ? There now, don’t cry, and I’ll cure you. Sure, he couldn’t help it,” said Bessy, and Bessy took Fid to nestle in her mamma’s lap with her. Fid felt that he fell into kind hands, for he only whined a little, and then laid his little silky head to rest beside Bessy’s.

“No, Miss, no, I couldn’t help him — l’m blowed if I could, for I could not : see, I spilt all the punch. I beg your pardon, Miss Kate.” “Don’t mind, Mr. Baker, no harm done,” and she wiped away the streaming liquid, and placed a clean glass for Mr. Baker. “I think, Mr. Baker, you were going to tell us about some fellows that attacked you, or something of that kind.”

“Oh, yes; did I ever tell you, Mr. ?” and he nodded at Willy. “Mr. Shea,” suggested Willy. “Well, Mr. Shea — good name, too —where is this 1 was ?”

"Some adventure you were going to relate,'' said Willy. * " "Oh, yes: you see, I was coming from Cashel one night, and I had a large sum of money about me. Just as I was coming by the grove I saw two men, and they slunk into the ditch as soon as they saw me. Begad, something struck me, so I out with my pistols. When I came up one of them jumped out and seized the reins. • ' Out with your arms and money, or you are a dead man,' he shouted: the other fellow was standing beside me with a gun presented. 'Here,' said I, putting my hand in, as if for them, but before he had time to look about him I out with the pistol and blazed at him. He turned about like a top and fell dead. My horse jumped with the fright, and that saved me, for the other fellow missed me with his shot : I turned at him, but he jumped over the ditch. Just as he was going out I picked him behind." "That was well done," said Willy: "did you bury the dead man " No, the pa , rascals, I mean, took him away; at least he was never got." "You had more adventures than that, though," said Frank. "More! it would keep us till morning to tell you, by jove; but the villains are now so much afraid, they

are shunning me. I suppose I shot about a dozen in all!" ; ■ • . ,_■;..-; ..;: -'..'. : ' _,,] "A dozen! really the government ought to pension you." ;.." ' --; ■'- " ■-,,..., a "So they ought, boy; so they ought; that's what I do be telling Lord Clearall, for we are particular friends. Shove over the decanter; I hadn't a glass of punch this two hours." . .-:: Mr. Baker's measure of time . must have . been guided by no chronometer but his own, for the hand of Mr. O'Donnell's clock had not revolved over ten minutes since he had filled his last glass. "I suppose you will not go home to-night, Mr. Baker," said Frank "Certainly, boy; certainly. Why not?" "It is rather late and the roads are said not to be too honest." "Ha, ha, ha! no fear of that: they know old Jack Baker too well for that; many a one of their skins I tickled." "Won't you be afraid, Mr. Baker?" said Kate. "Afraid! ha, ha, ha, afraid—Jack Baker—afraid!

by jove that is a good one ! I assure you, Miss Kate, it would not be well for a man that would tax Jack Baker, old as he is, with cowardice; ha, ha, ha, ha ! Jack Baker afraid! look at these bull dogs, Frank; need a man be afraid having them?” Frank took the pistols to the side table, and under pretence of examining them, he extracted the balls, no doubt with the charitable intention of preventing Mr. Baker from committing murder; he then went into the kitchen. While Frank was in the kitchen, Mr. O’Donnell was taking a doze, and Willy being engaged in a cosy chat with Kate and Mrs. O’Donnell, and Bessy, and puss, and Fid, held a council on the sofa, so Mr. Baker thought the best thing he could do was to take a nap ; and in order to make his doze comfortable, he first emptied his glass. Certain sonorous sounds emitted from Mr. Baker’s nasal organs betokened plainly as words could that he was enjoying rather a heavy doze. “Come, Bessy, child,” said Mrs. O’Donnell, “let us leave Fid and puss now to sleep for themselves, and say your prayers.” The pretty little thing knelt at her mother’s knee and rested her closed hands upon her lap. As she finished her little prayers she naively asked —“ ‘Our Father, Who art in heaven!’ What does that mean, mamma? Is it that God is our father?”

"Certainly, my dear child. He is the father of the fatherless, and he has called little children to Him, for of such, He says, is the kingdom of heaven." Bessy was silent for some time, then she said : "Mamma, is heaven a beautiful place?" "Yes, my lov.e ; no words could paint its beauty, for ears have not heard, nor eyes seen, nor has it entered into the heart of man to conceive the glory of heaven." "Mamma, I would like to go to heaven: would you like me to go?" "Mrs. O'Donnell looked at that quiet, ethereallooking child, with her pale cheeks and bright eyes, and a pang of anguish struck her heart at these words, and she thought what would she do if she lost her darling child, and a tear trickled and fell on Bessy's little hand. "What ails you, mamma? sure you would not grudge me to go to heaven : if so, mamma, and if you'd be very sorry, I will pray to the good God not to take me, and I know as He is so good He will not refuse me." "No, child, no! do not; God will take you in His own wise time: but not now, Bessy; what, darling, would I do after you," and she pressed her to her bosom.

Bessy remained silent for some time, and then looked up and said ; “Mamma, are Richard and Ellen in heaven; but I know they are.” “They are, child.”

“Why, then, 'do you be crying for them if they are so happy in such a beautiful place “I don’t know, pet; I feel lonesome after them, and yet I know'they are with God.” “'Our Father Who art in Heaven.’ Oh, how good God is mamma, and how grand heaven is, when it is the kingdom of God’s glory and of His angels and saints.”

While this conversation was going on between Bessy and her mamma, and while Kate and Willy held an equally interesting conversation at the other side—a conversation which seemed to please them both very much, for they often smiled, and looked at each other and then at the book, for I am sure there was something very interesting in that book. We will take a look into the kitchen to see what Frank was about. A farmer of the wealthier class must have a large establishment of servants in order to cultivate his farms and to collect in his crops. Besides the regular staff he generally hires additional hands, while cutting and saving his corn and hay, and digging his potatoes. Mr. O'Donnell had not all his potatoes dug as yet, and therefore was not able to dispense with his additional hands. When Frank went into the kitchen, most of the servants were collected around a large table playing cards. A few were sitting at the fire enjoying a comfortable shanachus with the housemaids.

“Arrah, sthop, James Cormack, and don’t be going on with your pallavering,” said a roguish, funnyeyed damsel to a good-looking young fellow, that seemed to be making love to her by the process of teasing her as much as possible. “Sarra a haporth I’m doin’ to you, Mary : you are only drainin’, achorra.” “Well, sthop now, and let me doze away: you know how early I was up to-day, or faix if you don’t, maybe it’s the mishtress I will be calling down.” “You’d like it, indeed, Mary,” said the other, with a most provoking look. Mary threw her arm carelessly over the back of the chair and leant her head upon it, and closed her two roguish eyes as if to sleep. James had a feather, with which he tickled her face and nose, which, of course, set her sneezing. James turned towards the table and asked, “how is

the play going, boys?" "Och! only middling," said a fellow, who had just turned his hat inside out to bring him luck. "Divil a haportli we are getting: Hill is winning all before him ; some of the colleens must have sthuck a comb or needle in his clothes." "1 have the five," said another fellow, hitting a thump upon the table: "that's our game." "Ye needn't laugh so," said Mary to the company at the fire, who were enjoying her bewilderment. "Faith it is pleasant," said Shemus-a-Clough. "Begor, Mary, if you were to s'ee the purty faces you were makin' you'd laugh yourself—turning up your nose this way, just like the hounds when they'd get tho scent."

Sheinus cocked up his big nose, and made some ludicrous faces for Mary’s special enlightenment. Mary didn’t seem to know -well whether she were better laugh or cry at Shemus’ rude comparison ; however, she compromised the thing by moving up from the fire and placing her apron to her face. “Ye think I didn’t know who did it. That I may never sin, but if I were shure it was you that did it, James Cormack, I never would speak another word to you.” “Mary, alanna,” said James, “don’t blame me, now : that’s a good girl ; shure 1 was looking at the card players.”

“Git out: maybe I didn’t see you,” said Mary: giving him a slight kick with her little foot. “Och, murther, Mary,” said he rubbing his leg, though the kick would not hurt Uncle Toby’s fly, “sarra a one but you blackened my leg. If you do be as crass as that when you are married, God help

the man that gets you. • Och, ■ I am sure when you have a couple of childers, there will be no sthauding you.” , . : v 'i ,■ „ -v i J p. ■, y y ;

“There is more of it,” said Mary; though from the little laugh she gave, and the slight red that gleamed on her cheek, it was evident she was well pleased.

“ Whisper, Mary,” said James, after a pause. Mary held down her little head towards him, and James whispered something into her ear, and in doing so, her face came so near his, that he could not resist the temptation of trying a kiss. Whether it was the kiss or the whisper, I can’t say, but Mary blushed up and struck him a slap on the cheek that might frighten a fly, and then bounced away, vowing that “nobody could live near the schemer, at all at all.” James rubbed his face, exclaiming,' “See now a body’s thanks for telling a purty little girl the truth and as for the kiss, upon my souckens, if we were in the dark, it is dozens of them she’d give me.” “Sorra a one at all, though: and I hope you will never have the impudence to try another : shure it was only my hand you kissed.” “Oh, never mind. I’ll do better the next time.”

"Arrah, maybe you'd thry : I'd advise you to look to your ears, then, James, and not be trying your come-; hether upon me. Shure maybe I didn't see you wid somebody at Mrs. Butler's last Sunday : take that, now, James." "Phew! Upon my veracity, Mary, I am afered you are getting in a little fit of jellessy ; shure, sorra one was wid me but my own first cousin." "Ha, ha, James; maybe I didn't know who was in it : if you think it shutable to be in consate wid Miss O'Brien, that's nothing to me," and Mary looked as if it were everything in life to her.

“Oh, wurrah, do hear that : there’s no coming up to yez for girls ; what differs there be betune the hearts an’ tongues of some people, and the way they speaks behind others’ backs; shure you know that Miss O’Brien is going to be married, and I as only wishing her joy. Faix I know a nice, plump little girl, w r id two roguish eyes like two shinin’ stars, that’s not a hundred miles from me this minute, I’d rather than Miss O’Brien, or any other miss any day ov my life.”

He looked at Mary with a soft, smiling kind .of look that told as plainly as words—it's your own darling self I mean. Mary blushed again, and found something astray with her apron-string. "Faith its pleasant." said Shemus-a-Clough; "ye are like two that wud be courting, going on wid ye'r droll ways ; ay, my purty little Colleen, it's thrue for UK'." This address of Shenius' created a roar of laughter. "What will they do, Shemus?" said one of the party. "Faix, they knows themself : my purty Colleen here, with her roguish eyes; aye, alanna, may be ye won't do it."

While these amatory scenes were going on near the fire, the players were not idle either, for they enlivened their games with snatches, songs, and stories ; their leading spirit was Shaun the Hover. "Mind your play there, and hould your whist, Shaun, will ye, bad's grant from you, why didn't you stick your king in there," said one of his partners, towards the end of the game. "Whist,'' said another, "here is Masther Frank coming." (To be continued.)