The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XLIX, Issue 41, 19 October 1922, Page 3

The Storyteller

(By. Mrs. J. Sadliee.)

Alice Riordan

CHAPTER IX.— (Continued.) Next night, when ten o’clock came round, neither Alice nor Bridget went up to worship, but said their prayers quietly together in the kitchen, not forgetting the Litany, which Alice had promised her father to say every night. Archy told next day before all the servants that his papa was quite cross over-night. “He was mad as a hatter,” said he, “but he didn’t want to let us see it, but I saw the anger in his very nose, for when papa’s angry, it always swells, and gets quite red. I think he was all the time trying to invent some plan; for even when he was reading the chapter for —I don’t remember what it was about —but when he was reading it, you could see - him, as Biddy would say, ‘ cudgelling his brains’ ; at any rate, between you both, you pair of unfortunate Papists, you spoiled poor papa’s prayers last night. Except when he was praying for the downfall of the man of sin, that was the only petition he put up. Hurrah, Bill, come and get my pony saddled; —quick, now!” and away he ran to the stable to superintend the equipping of his steed. “By the hole o’ my coat, Alice,” said Bridget, as she reached up to a high nail for her best broom; “by the hole o’ my coat, I’ll never be bamboozled again with their worship. I see there’s nothing like standing up for one’s own. Now, I never had either love or likin’ for their prayers, an’ God help me, it used to go to my heart to hear the master goin’ on about Popery, but still I daren’t refuse to go in, until you come, an’ set me the good example. It’ll be a lesson to me all my life, plase the Lord.” By this time Cecilia was gone to school, and Mrs. Finlay called Alice upstairs. “Alice,” said she, “Bridget tells me that you have got some very good books; will you just let me see them? I should like to read some Catholic books, in order to see whether your religion is as bad as it is said to be —though, indeed, I know it is not.” Alice brought down three books which Father Smith had given her, together with a small copy of the “Imitation of Christ,” which Mrs. Dempsey had given her as a keepsake. “Here’s all the books I have, ma’am, except my prayer-book. That little one, 1 The Grounds of the Catholic Doctrine,’ I’m readin’ now myself, an’ I want to read it over an’ over again, till I get it all into my head.” Mrs. Finlay smiled. “So you are laying in your ammunition, Alice.” “Ma’am?” said Alice, inquiringly, the last word being too long for her understanding. “I mean to say- that you are preparing your answers.” “Well, indeed, you’ve just guessed it, ma’am. It seems that people lay themselves out for turnin’ Catholics, if they can find them ignorant of their religion, so with God’s help, I’ll try to be up to them. I hope you're not angry with me, ma’am, for sayin’ so?” “Not at all, Alice, not at all. I think it is your duty to study the grounds whereon your religion is based, so that you may be able to defend it when attacked in your presence, ♦ Will you lend me these other books? I have often heard of them, and should like much to read them.” “Oh, you’re heartily welcome to them, ma’am,” said Alice, “an’ as soon as ever I’m done with the other you’ll have it, too. Will you please to give me that spencer of Miss Cecilia’s, ma’am, that you want me to alter?” The spencer was given, and Mrs. Finlay told Alice to sit down and do it where she was, “so that I ■•may"show you the way I wish to have it done.” Mrs. Finlay gradually drew her young seamstress into little confidential stories of Wlife in Irelknd,” and as she , listened to the simple, unpolished accounts of things that had of old made the sum and substance of Alice’s life, she former her own esetimate, and drew her own deductions, and her heart began to soften towards the kindly, an-

sophisticated peasantry of Ireland, with their beautiful superstitions—grounded, for the most part, on the virtues which shine brightest in the national character —and above (all with their simple, earnest faith, and profound veneration for all that concerns religion. She could not help observing, too, that her young protege was endowed with no ordinary share of penetration and good sense, while her mind was as guileless as that of a young child. When it was near the hour for Mr. Finlay’s appearance, Alice was sent upstairs with her work, and Mrs. Finlay, trying on her bonnet, and throwing a shawl over her shoulders, walked to meet her husband and son, for the latter, who attended the High School, usually came home with his father. When all three had reached the house they found Cecilia there before them, and dinner was immediately ordered up. Just then Alice came in again to ask some question about her work, and while Mrs. Finlay was arranging it for her, Archy asked his mamma whether she had heard the joke about old Busby. % “No, my dear; what is. it?” “Why, you know, mamma, he goes to Mr. M’Clintock’s meeting, and on Sunday last- he was there, as usual. It happened that the minister was a little late, and made the congregation cool their heels waiting for him ” “Archy,” interposed his father, “I request that you will speak more reverently of that godly man, Mr. M’Clintock.” “Certainly, sir,” said Archy. “Well, mamma, as I was telling you, that godly man, the Rev. Jonas Ezekiel M’Clintock —will that do, papa?” “Go on, sir!” “Yes, papa. Well, ma’am ‘silence reign’d’ (as some of the poets say), and you might have heard a pin fall on the floor, when all of a sudden somebody burst out laughing, and then another, and then another—hip, hip, hurrah! was laugh, laugh, until the whole place was in an uproar. ‘ Why, what in the world is it ?’ cried Samuel Hopkins, who told me the story. ‘ Oh! look behind, and you’ll see,’ said another.’ ‘Look at old Busby.’ Sam looked, and, sure enough, there was my old gent in quiet possession of his pew, with his feet stretched on the opposite seat, and he leaning back most luxuriouslyhis coat taken off, his pocket-handkerchief thrown over his head, and he reading a newspaper, spread out at full stretch before him. Oh! for the pencil of Hogarth,” continued Archy, ‘ bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughing. “Why, mamma, did ever you hear a better joke?” Mrs. Finlay laughed heartily, but not even a smile broke in on the sombre gravity of her husband’s visage, though even Cecilia joined in the general merriment. Mr. Finlay sat looking from one to another, apparently waiting till the laugh was over. Then he spoke. “Really, Mrs. Finlay, it is no wonder that your son has no greater respect for religion and its ministers, since you encourage him to mock at both.” “I beg your pardon, Charles: it was neither at the church nor the minister we laughed, it was at the easy nonchalance of our old friend Busby, who made such good use of his time while he waited for the preacher. I grant you the joke would not tell well at one of our Bible meetings; but no matter, even Bible Christians must come down off their stilts at times, and enjoy a good laugh. We’re not at a meeting now, you know — here’s the dinner. Oh, pray, forgive poor Archy; he meant no harm, I assure you.” “But why did he begin to tell such a story before that Alice? I should not have minded it half so much had not she been there ; but now it will get wind amongst all these Jesuit people, who have their spies everywhere, and are always on the watch for what we say and do:’’ “Trust me, not half so often as you seem to think, (Charles, replied his wife. “I am inclined to believe -.that the Catholic clergy—Jesuits, if you will — not give themselves very much trouble about our affairs, so long as we let them and theirs alone.” When the servants were withdrawn, after dinner, Mrs. Finlay gave her husband an account of her morning’s conversation with Alice, omitting, however, all that related to the books she had borrowed. “I tell you what, Charles,” she concluded, “that same little girl has a very superior mind.” “Indeed!” cried Mr. Finlay; “if so, we must en-

deayorto bring her over at all risks. Now we are to have a meeting in the course of a few weeks, and we must positively try to -secure her before then, or, at least, to get her into the right path. To-morrow, before I go into town, I shall have a conversation with her. Mrs. Harley tells me that her girlthat Miss Hanlon perfectly willing to give testimony. She describes her as being a most promising subject.” » “For perdition!” said Mrs. Finlay to herself; but aloud she said, “Very well, Charles, you can try your persuasive powers on my girl, though I rather fear you will not succeed,” “We shall see that, Harriet, we shall see. What say you all to a walk now ? —the moon will soon rise, and the evening is very fine.” The proposal was joyfully accepted by all his hearers, and the whole quartette sallied forth to see the mellow moon of September raise her disc from behind the blue line of the river, and the far-off mountain of Beloeil. They talked of the natural curiosity embosomed amongst those mountains, and Mr. Finlay described to his children how the lake is situated on the top of one of them, in a wild and Alpine region. “It reminds one,” said he, “of the accounts given by travellers of one of the Swiss Alps, which' is called by the neighboring peasantry Pontius Pilate, for it, too, has a small lake on its summit. When a storm is at hand, they can always tell by the black cloud that encircles that dreary mountain, which cloud they call ‘Pontius Pilate’s nightcap.’ ” ! “Papa,” said Archy, “why don’t you always talk as you do now? When you’re talking away at the Papists I’d as soon be a hundred miles, away, for I am sick of that. I think I wouldn’t like Catholics half so'well as I do, if I didn’t hear them all the time abused. And then I love to hear you talk about anything else, father—you do speak so well.” Mr. Finlay condescended to smile, and merely saying, “You will be of a different opinion when you arc older,” he purposely changed the conversation. The next day was Saturday, and early in the afternoon Mrs. Hailey called. Alice was at work in the sittingroom, and Mrs. Finlay said, with a smile, as she rose to go up to the drawing-room, “I am now going to be regaled with some spicy anecdotes of Popish superstition or Popish persecution, or perchance some dark tale of priestly magic. Oh! for the patience of the patriarch of old!” When Mrs. Finlay entered the drawing-room she found her visitor standing in entranced admiration before an engraved likeness of John Wesley, and Mrs. Finlay had to repeat her salutation a second time before it was heard. “Good-morning, Mrs, Harley,” and she touched her aim; why, you appear quite wrapped up in admiration of that engraving. I believe you have not seen it before.” “Oh! dear, Mrs. Finlay, how you did startle me! Yes, I have been gazing with manifold emotions on the saintly countenance of that great and good man, the illustrious reformer of the Anglican Church. You are very fortunate, I assure you, in possessing such a treasure.” Mrs. Finlay bowed slightly, and then asked for Mrs. Harley’s family. “They are all in excellent health,” said, she, “with the exception of myself.” I am sorry to hear you make such an exception, my dear Mrs. Harley. What is the matter with you?” “Oh! the old complaint—my nerves, I have had -a most fearful shock since I saw you last.” “Indeed!” cried Mrs. Finlay; “of what nature, may I ask?” “Why, our old butler, Tom Carney, is Head, and what do you think, when he found himself getting near death, he called out for a. priest. Only think of that, my dear Mrs. Finlay! when the wretched old man had been so long passing himself off for a. good Protestant.” “It was a great disappointment, indeed!” said*. Mrs. Finlay, trying to keep from laughing. “But how did it end? Did you send for a priest, as he desired?” . - (To be continued.)