hand upon them."

"Perhaps they would be always at mass," said Paddy, "and in that case
your honour would not be likely to see them."

"Masses!" said I. "There are more masses said in Ireland in one hour
than here in two years."

"The people would be heathens, then?" said Paddy, aghast.

"Not precisely," said I. "But they have reformed themselves several
times, and a number of adequate reformations is a fine thing to
confuse the Church. In Ireland we are all for being true to the
ancient faith; here they are always for improving matters, and their
learned men study the Sacred Book solely with a view to making needed
changes."

"'Tis heathen they are," said Paddy with conviction. "I was knowing
it. Sure, I will be telling Father Corrigan the minute I put a foot on
Ireland, for nothing pleases him so much as a good obstinate heathen,
and he very near discourses the hair off their heads."

"I would not be talking about such matters," said I. "It merely makes
my head grow an ache. My father was knowing all about it; but he was
always claiming that if a heathen did his duty by the poor he was as
good as anybody, and that view I could never understand."

"Sure, if a heathen gives to the poor, 'tis poison to them," said
Paddy. "If it is food and they eat it, they turn black all over and
die the day after. If it is money, it turns red-hot and burns a hole
in their hand, and the devil puts a chain through it and drags them
down to hell, screeching."

"Say no more," said I. "I am seeing you are a true theologian of the
time. I would be talking on some more agreeable topic, something about
which you know less."

"I can talk of fishing," he answered diffidently. "For I am a great
fisherman, sure. And then there would be turf-cutting, and the deadly
stings given to men by eels. All these things I am knowing well."

"'Tis a grand lot to know," said I, "but let us be talking of London.
Have you been hearing of London?"

"I have been hearing much about the town," said Paddy. "Father
Corrigan was often talking of it. He was claiming it to be full of
loose women, and sin, and fighting in the streets during mass."

"I am understanding something of the same," I replied. "It must be an
evil city. I am fearing something may happen to you, Paddy,--you with
your red head as conspicuous as a clock in a tower. The gay people
will be setting upon you and carrying you off. Sure there has never
been anything like you in London."

"