of so great labor in their behalf. For they
themselves are given much to lying, theft, and drunkenness, vain
babbling, and profane dancing and singing; and are still, as S. Gildas
reports of them, 'more careful to shroud their villainous faces in bushy
hair, than decently to cover their bodies; while their land (by
reason of the tyranny of their chieftains, and the continual wars and
plunderings among their tribes, which leave them weak and divided,
an easy prey to the myrmidons of the excommunicate and usurping
Englishwoman) lies utterly waste with fire, and defaced with corpses of
the starved and slain. But what are these things, while the holy virtue
of Catholic obedience still flourishes in their hearts? The Church cares
not for the conservation of body and goods, but of immortal souls.

"If any devout lady shall so will, you may obtain from her liberality a
shirt for this worthless tabernacle, and also a pair of hose; for I am
unsavory to myself and to others, and of such luxuries none here has
superfluity; for all live in holy poverty, except the fleas, who have
that consolation in this world for which this unhappy nation, and those
who labor among them, must wait till the world to come.*

"Your loving brother,

"N. S."

* See note at end of chapter.

"Sir Richard must know of this before daybreak," cried old Cary. "Eight
hundred men landed! We must call out the Posse Comitatus, and sail with
them bodily. I will go myself, old as I am. Spaniards in Ireland? not a
dog of them must go home again."

"Not a dog of them," answered Will; "but where is Mr. Winter and his
squadron?"

"Safe in Milford Haven; a messenger must be sent to him too."

"I'll go," said Amyas: "but Mr. Cary is right. Sir Richard must know all
first."

"And we must have those Jesuits."

"What? Mr. Evans and Mr. Morgans? God help us--they are at my uncle's!
Consider the honor of our family!"

"Judge for yourself, my dear boy," said old Mr. Cary, gently: "would
it not be rank treason to let these foxes escape, while we have this
damning proof against them?"

"I will go myself, then."

"Why not? You may keep all straight, and Will shall go with you. Call a
groom, Will, and get your horse saddled, and my Yorkshire gray; he will
make better play with this big fellow on his back, than the little pony
astride of which Mr. Leigh came walking in (as I hear) this morning. As
for Frank, the ladies will see to him well enough, and glad e