say I never saw the Rubrics half so well carried out in
England as here at home. In fact, this complaint appears to be one of
these satires on racial characteristics that are only half true, and
take all their force from traditional misrepresentations."

Isn't that fine language? You see, he's taking a leaf or two out of my
book.

"Well, but you can't deny that this question of Scriptural exegesis is
one of these dominant questions that must arrest the attention of all
who are interested in ecclesiastical or hieratical studies," said I,
trying to keep pace with him.

"Quite true," he said; "and yet I should like to see these new-fangled
theories about Scriptural inspiration, plenary or otherwise, lifted from
the shaking quagmires of conjecture onto the solid ground of
demonstration."

"You cannot deny whatever," I replied, just before giving in, "that
Crolly's 'Contracts' is solid and well-reasoned and coherent argument;
and look at its vast importance. It touches every question of social and
civil life--"

"It is an excellent heliograph in sunny weather," he said; "but what
about a muggy and misty day?"

"Well, God bless the bishop, whatever," I replied, throwing up the
sponge; "if we haven't the ablest theologians, the smartest Master of
Ceremonies, and the best Orientalists in Ireland, it won't be his fault.
Dear me, how far-seeing and practical he is!"

"But about his ring and his mitre, sir?" said my curate. "You were
pleased to make some observations a few minutes ago--"

"That'll do now," I replied. "My mare will be ready the morning of the
Conference. You'll drive, and we must be in time."

That was a pleasant drive. May in Ireland! What does it mean? It means
coming out of a dark tunnel into blinding sunshine; it means casting off
the slough of winter, and gliding with crest erect and fresh habiliments
under leafy trees and by the borders of shining seas, the crab-apple
blossoms, pink and white, scenting the air over your head, and primroses
and violets dappling the turf beneath your feet; it means lambs frisking
around their tranquil mothers in the meadows, and children returning at
evening with hands and pinafores full of the scented cowslip and the
voluptuous woodbine; it means the pouring of wine-blood into empty
veins, and the awakening of torpid faculties, and the deeper, stronger
pulsations of the heart, and the fresh buoyancy of drooping and
submerged spirits, and white clouds full of bird-m