her, shook the dust of courts off his feet, and
became a humble aspirant after the priesthood at the missionary
College of St. Omer. He had always a great desire to be sent to the
land of his fathers, the land of faith and hope, of which he had heard
from many an Irish refugee, and in due time his desire was fulfilled.
He reached the Island one wintry day, flung up out of the teeth of
storms, and was in the Island thirty years, till the _reveille_ of his
Master called him to the muster of the Heavenly host.

Father Anthony seems to have been innocently ready to talk over his
days of fighting. He was not at all averse from fighting his battles
over again for these simple children of his who were every day in
battle with the elements and death. Peter Devine remembers to have
squatted, burning his shins by the turf fire, and watching with
fascination the lines in the ashes which represented the entrenchments
and the guns, and the troops of King Frederick and the French line, as
Father Anthony played the war-game for old Corney Devine, whose
grass-grown grave is under the gable of the Island Chapel.

Now and again a fisherman was admitted by special favour to look upon
the magnificent clothing which Father Anthony had worn as a colonel of
French Horse. The things were laid by in lavender as a bride might
keep her wedding-dress. There were the gold-laced coat and the
breeches with the sword-slash in them, the sash, the belt, the plumed
hat, the high boots, the pistols, and glittering among them all, the
sword. That chest of Father Anthony's and its contents were something
of a fairy tale to the boys of the Island, and each of them dreamt of
a day when he too might behold them. The chest, securely locked and
clamped, stood in the sacristy; and Father Anthony would have seen
nothing incongruous in its neighbourhood to the sacred vessels and
vestments. He generally displayed the things when he had been talking
over old fighting days, to the Island men mostly, but occasionally to
a French captain, who with a cargo, often contraband, or wines and
cigars, would run into the Island harbour for shelter. Then there were
courtesies given and exchanged; and Father Anthony's guest at parting
would make an offering of light wines, much of which found its way to
sick and infirm Island men and women in the days that followed.

Father Anthony had been many placid years on the Island when there
began to be rumours of trouble on the mainlan