verything
dispense not yourself from it. Now, I know that you will make a
thousand slips a day over all this, and that your great natural
activity will be always breaking out; but I do not trouble myself
about this provided that it is not your will, your deliberation;
and that, when you perceive these movements, you always try to calm
them. Equableness of mind and of outward demeanor is not a
particular virtue, but the interior and exterior ornament of a
friend of Jesus Christ." (Letter VII.)

Now, here's the difficulty. Undoubtedly he is impetuous, he rushes at
conclusions too rapidly, he judges hastily; and with an imperfect
knowledge of human nature, which is a mass of irregularities, he worries
himself because he cannot bring a whole parish up to his level in a few
weeks. That impetuosity shows itself everywhere. He is an anachronism, a
being from another time and world, set down in sleepy Kilronan. For the
first few weeks that he was here, whenever he slammed his hall door and
strode down the village street with long, rapid, undulating steps, all
the dogs came out and barked at him for disturbing their slumbers, and
all the neighbors came to their doors and asked wildly, "Who's dead?
What happened? Where's the fire?" etc., and the consequence was that the
wildest rumors used to be circulated; and then, when a few days'
experience disproved them, the cumulative wrath of the disappointed
villagers fell on Father Letheby's devoted head.

"Why the mischief doesn't he go aisy? Sure, you'd think he was walking
for a wager. He'll kill himself in no time if he goes on that way."

He used to laugh airily at all this commotion. And now here was the
puzzle. No doubt whatever he can do more work in one day than I or
Father Tom Laverty could do in a month. And if I clip his wings, and
put lead in his shoes, as he remarked, he may take to slippers and the
gout, and all his glorious work be summarily spoiled. That would never
do. I have no scruple about what I said regarding the Office and Mass;
but if I shall see him creeping past my window in a solemn and dignified
manner, I know I shall have qualms of conscience. And yet--

It was in the beginning of December, and one day I had occasion to go
down through the village. It was not a day to attract any one out of
doors; it was one of those dreadful days which leave an eternal landmark
behind them in the trees that are bent inwards toward