sary truth.

And being delivered from error, endeavour to deliver others. Hate and abhor the antiscriptural doctrines and practices of Popery; but love, and pray for, and instruct the Papist. Farewell, Murphy. May the Lord bless you, and make you a blessing.

D

DIALOGUE II.

ON TRANSUBSTANTIATION.

John and Patrick.

John. WHY in such haste, Patrick? You could not walk faster were you going for a doctor, or marching from a Sheriff's officer, or on your way to a prize fight, or to the Catholic Association, to listen to the eloquence of Messrs. O'Connel, Shiel, and Co., who form a bright constellation in our political hemisphere ; and to whom the British empire, but especially our beloved country, the Emerald Isle, is under the deepest obligations for the peace and prosperity which it enjoys; and especially for that vigour and activity with which they have inspired all parties, rousing them on the right hand and on the left, from a political lethargy, either to hope or fear the scenes of 1798,scenes, Patrick, which you and I both remember, and which will never be forgotten whilst

DIALOGUES ON POPERY.

51

the names of Wexford-bridge, Arklow, and Vinegar-hill are remembered.

Patrick. I shall never forget them. They were bloody times; but, though many of the Priests had much to do in that rebellion, I confess I could never cordially approve of all that was done.

John. The Priests, Patrick! Yes, the Priests, if not the sole cause of it, were, many of them, among the most active of the rebels. Who but the Priests occasioned the horrible piking of Protestants at Wexford, and on Wexford-bridge? They could have prevented the whole. One Priest, Father C, at the intercession of a rich Popish lady, the wife of a Protestant gentleman, who was actually brought out to be piked, went down to the bridge and rescued him from the hands of the Popish savages. And had he used his priestly authority, he might have saved them all. Now, Patrick, I hold that the man who has it in his power to save life, and does not, is a murderer. But waving this at present, pray, where are you going in such haste?

Patrick. I am neither going to hear the orators you mention, nor to see a prize fight, nor am I marching from a Sheriff's officer, but am hastening to mass. I am rather too late; for last night Peter O'Flaherty, and Father Dominic, and a few others, and myself, met at the

sign of St. Joseph, where, the whisky being good, and the company agreeable to each other, we drank noggin after noggin, the good Father and others every now and then treating us with a glee, or a catch, in both of which he excels, till not a soul of us could go home without help. The consequence of which is, that I am later than I otherwise should have been. Nor, indeed, am I quite so well as usual; for though we sometimes say of whisky, there is not a head-ache in a bucket-full, yet, though I did not drink half that quantity, my head aches quite enough.

John. But, Patrick, are you in a fit state to go to mass?

Patrick. Who can doubt it? I am neither a thief nor a murderer. As to the whisky, the Priest drank as much as I did; and he will not only attend mass, but will solemnly celebrate it. Now, if he who celebrates it, he who converts the wafer and the wine into the body and soul, the flesh and blood and bones, the divinity and humanity, of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and then swallows him with much solemnity,-if, I say, the Priest is fit for all this, surely I cannot be unfit to cross myself with holy water, and attentively to listen to prayers in an unknown tongue, and to bow to the paintings of the Saviour and his mother, and the other saints who kindly dwell

in the chapel, whilst they pray for us in heaven.

John. And do you, Patrick, believe the Priest can do all this?

Patrick. Yes, as firmly as I believe that my namesake—if I may speak so familiarly of the great St. Patrick-drove all venomous reptiles into the sea.

John. Do you believe your Priest can make a mouse-trap?

Patrick. I am not sure that he has genius enough for that. But what has that to do with it?

John. Do you think he could build a ship?

Patrick. I don't believe he could; for that requires great strength, and he is but a feeble man; it also requires great mechanical skill, to which I believe he is a stranger.

John. Do you think he could create a goose, or a goat, or a donkey?

Patrick. To be sure not. I cannot conceive what you mean.

John. I simply mean what I say, Patrick. I am not speaking parables. Do you think he could in an instant transplant Dublin to Liverpool, and Liverpool to Dublin, with all their inhabitants, through the air, without a single individual being injured, or a single brick or tile being disordered, or a piece of furniture being moved?