LIBRARY 
 
 OF THL 
 UNIVERSITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 ArlEc 
 v.l 
 
 J
 
 CAmVL MORE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SELF-LOVE AND SELE-CONTEOL 
 
 BY AKAML 
 
 PER ARDUA AD ALIA. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 W. SHOBEEL, PUBLISHER, 
 
 20, GREAT MARLBOHOUGH STREET. 
 
 1852.
 
 rA3 
 
 TO MY FIUEND 
 
 RAMIA, 
 
 
 I DEDICATE, AS H VERY MEET. 
 
 THIS book; 
 
 rOU IF THERE BE SOME SPARKS OF TRUTU 
 
 ^ SCATTERED TUROUGU ITS I'AGES, 
 
 TUEY UAVE LLEX STRUCK OUT !>' OUR 
 PAST COXYERSE.
 
 C A T H A L M U E. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I AM an old man, and have observed some curious 
 passages in the hves of others. Strange events 
 occm- to most people, though perhaps unnoticed 
 by their neighbours, and an interesting story 
 might be made of the most apparently uneventful 
 life, if its under cm-rents were made known. 
 
 The study of mankind has ever been more inte- 
 resting to me than poring over men's works, and 
 as all have not leisure nor inclination for the dis- 
 section of minds, in which many of my leisure 
 hours have been spent, I offer some rough notes 
 of what I have observed in the narrow sphere 
 in which circumstances have ])kiced me ; and y(^ 
 not narrow, for it is the mind, and not the ex- 
 terior condition, that circumscribes or enkargc^s 
 our circle of being. The greatest king, vu 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 (' \TH \f, M'tin* 
 
 the f^rcalisl lliroiu', may he sliul up in a *' black 
 holr" of* inonil existence, wliile his closest pri- 
 soner is master of mifettcretl thoughts. As a 
 (lis|)ensary doctor, in an out-of-the-way part of 
 Ireland, I have been unceasinjj:ly occupied for 
 fifty years in the exercise of iny profession, but 
 even in this course of uvy life, monotonous as it 
 may seem, I have, thank (jlod, made many friends, 
 and I think I have lost none but by death. 
 Among them none arc more dear to me than tlio 
 Mores of Cappagh ; and Cathal More, tiie present 
 head of the family, 1 have loved as a son from 
 liis infancy, when he lost his father ; and well he 
 deserves my love, and of late, almost my venera- 
 tion, though forty years my junior. 
 
 On the ICth of December, 1844, I was seated 
 \\\\\\ him and his mother, Jifter dinner, in the 
 anticjue hall of Capj)agh House. They were the 
 only surviving mend)ers of this once large familv, 
 when assembled for the Christmas festival. 
 
 I was at that time almost a daily guest, for, 
 before the troubled times which have of late come 
 (»n inland, no one was more liospitable than 
 Cathal More, no mother kinder to a son's guests 
 than his; and the eaiTcd oak panellings and po- 
 lished beams of the hall, retiintid many a gather- 
 ing of his cousins and friends, it is customary
 
 CATIIAL MORE. O 
 
 to describe Irish society as if it were for the most 
 part composed of half-drunken fools, and vulgar 
 Messieurs and Mesdames Malaprop. My fifty 
 years' experience has not led me into such scenes, 
 and I think those who depict them cannot have 
 known our upper classes at all, or at most, only 
 their discarded members. 
 
 We were alone on the evenhig of which I write. 
 ^Irs. More sat on one side of the wide hearth, read- 
 ing that day's newspaper, while her son, in the op- 
 posite arm-chair, studied a map of his estate, with 
 ))amplilets, estimates, and plans of all kinds for 
 the im})rovemcnt of his tenantry — his constant 
 care — on a table by his side. In appearance, he 
 was tall, but his figure was strong and well made, 
 so his height was not ungainly ; he had black hair, 
 a low Greek forehead, and rather feminine fea- 
 tiu'es, but his complexion was dark and bronzed 
 by travel. His forehead, however, was white, 
 and the "blue blood" was almost visible as it 
 coursed through the prominent frontal vein. lie 
 was not strictly handsome, for his features were 
 too finely cut for masculine b(uuity, but the shape 
 of his head was perfect, and a glint of his deep- 
 set eyes lighted up his whole countenance with a 
 peculiar beauty. 
 
 Yet, much as I luvc Cathal, good and elivcr 
 
 B 2
 
 4 CATRAL MORE. 
 
 as he was, his uiothcr was superior to him. I'or 
 nearly thirty years slic had l)iin a w i(h)\\ , with 
 the heavy trust of a property, (lifHcult to manage, 
 committed to her ; and never have I known her 
 fail in the rightful fullilment of it. But she wa3 
 now grown old, and glad to tind a substitute in 
 her son, when he returned from his long travels. 
 The union between this mother and son was of a 
 degree seldom seen in these indc])endent days, 
 he, looking to her experience in ail per|)lexed 
 matters ; she, connnnnicating it without the os- 
 tentation of age, and with rare wisdom acknow- 
 ledging the j)ower and youth-strength of her 
 son's int( lliGrenee. 
 
 She was in form a slight, witliered old woman, 
 worn by care and thought, grave and gentle in 
 her manner, generally silent, but when she chanced 
 to speak of a topic interesting to her, she became 
 calmly, l)ut impressively elo(pient. One did not 
 perceive the power of her words at the moment 
 of Llieir ntteranct\ but liny Kit a deeper after-im- 
 pression than sueli orators as 1 have heard sj)vak, 
 ever produced on me. The charm was given to 
 then\ by her wise life, devoted to the cause of 
 truth, and her hearty faith in her own sincerity ; 
 for these are the corni r-stones of eloquence, on 
 which, indeed, it is good to erect an arch of \\\\\-
 
 CATIIAL MORK, 
 
 sounding words ; but without wliicli for foun 
 
 (fa- 
 
 tion, the finest edifice of hmguage will be but an 
 unsafe height to both the speaker and the hearer. 
 Even her silence was " eloquent repose," the elo- 
 quent repose of life's sunset, glowing in the soft- 
 ened brightness that succeeds a burning day, 
 diu-ing which nnich good work in the vineyard 
 has been done. 
 
 But I forget time and space in speaking of 
 those 1 love. That IGth of December was a rough 
 night, and we drew close to the fire, and the two 
 favourite spaniels had cowered as near to the 
 springing wood flames as their fears would allow, 
 every now and then starting away in fright, when 
 some brighter jet flashed up. 
 
 I had just spoken of our good fortune in being 
 within doors on such a night, when one of the 
 dogs cocked his ears and growled, and a sharp 
 ring at the entrance-bell instantly followed. 
 
 " What can that be, Catlml?" said Mrs. More. 
 
 " Some magistrate's business, I suppose," he 
 replied, as he hastily left the room to see what it 
 might be. Almost immediately, he returned with 
 two gentlemen, and addressing liLs mother, he 
 said — 
 
 " Let me introduce you to these strangers, 
 whose carriage broke down as they were travel-
 
 rATIIAI, Mnur,. 
 
 linsr ^)V the tratf. ' Mis. More bowed, and said 
 kindly she was j^lad she and her son had tho 
 pleasure of l>einf^ ot any ns'. and expressed a 
 liojM' that they wonhl not think of going on that 
 night. Tiu' cidrr traxclirr i-cpjicd, that one of 
 their horses had fallen, coming down a steej) hill 
 near the gate, and the j)ole of their carriage was 
 broken ; hearing that a gentleman's house was 
 80 near, he had, he said, come to borrow a liglit, 
 that he might see if the horse was nnieh Innt. 
 If it coidd go on, he would not tax their kindness 
 furtlier, as he wished to be in llngland on the 
 following day. 
 
 While he was thus explaining the matter to 
 Mrs. More, Cathal had gone out to order more 
 assistance to be given to the stranger's servant, 
 but \w returned, saying, " 1 trust it will not nuieh 
 ineonvenienee you to remain here to-night. The 
 horse is cpiite disabled, the post-boy says, and a 
 
 fresh one can hardly be got from , our nearest 
 
 posting town, in tiiiu^ for you to go on bctore 
 morning." "1 fear then. I nnist give up my j»nr- 
 pose of a fpiick journey, and take \nuv very kind 
 offer of beds," replied the strangir. " Let nn; 
 introduce you to my son, liupert Sehelling, as 
 we are to be your guests." The very graceful 
 fair-haired yoiuig man so called, bowed low to
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 Mrs. More ; and now that his name suggested tlie 
 idea, I fancied I saw something foreign in \\iv, 
 looks of both father and son. They were alike 
 fair, alike slight and tall, and both had finely-cut 
 
 r 
 
 Teutonic features ; but the world and the world's 
 god, Mannnon, had set his seal on the forehead 
 of the elder. His eyes were bright, but keen and 
 cold, his mouth well curved, but cautious ami 
 scornful, his whole countenance handsome, yet it 
 was that of a spy, suspicious of all around, and 
 as if expecting an enemy at every corner. 
 
 I did not discover all this at a glance, but I 
 saw him often afterwards, and his face, wdicn in 
 repose and wearing its natural look, always left 
 the same disagreeable impression on my mind. 
 
 His manner did not bear it out ; it was frank, 
 and so refined as to satisfy even j\Irs. ^lore. The 
 younger gentleman was very cpuet, and spoke 
 little, and I observed a look of delicacy and sorrow 
 on his countenance ; his features were not so 
 regularly handsome as his father's, but liis eyes 
 were — 
 
 Stars, very stars, 
 
 And all eyes else dead coals. 
 
 They had their higgage brought up to tlie 
 house, and we were soon again listening to the 
 storm without, with the pleasant sensation of 
 shelter.
 
 8 CATHAL MORK. 
 
 llic strinifj^crs ([iiickly inndc llu'ir prcsoncc frit, 
 and wt' toiiiul tliat the cldor Mr. Srhcllinp: was 
 pliigiilarly clover in conversation ; lie liad Ix'cn 
 lravillin<x thronirli niucli of Ireland, and hi> re- 
 marks on its condition were slin^wd. 
 
 Catlial was, moreover, pleased to find that liis 
 new accjuaintance agreed very nmeh in jjolitieal 
 views with him; for they were both, of those who 
 drew great angnry from the prosperity of Ireland 
 in those years, and who joyfully proj)]iesied its 
 ia})id advance in national greatness ; and he felt 
 a kindliness growing in his heart towards an 
 Englishman, (for Mr. Sehelling, though of German 
 stock, had ado])ted England for his country), who 
 could so well ap})reciate the resources of his 
 country. 
 
 They discussed various ])lans of im])rovenient ; 
 how railways were to traverse Ireland, and connect 
 lingland with America ; how Irish ])eat was to 
 replace the exhausted coal-mines ; and how, at the 
 sani;* time, the very bogs that supplied it were to 
 heeome fertile land, after making, 1 don't know 
 how many pounds of caudles out of each acre 
 of turf? At last, my head swam in schemes, 
 and turning to the younger stranger, and Mrs. 
 More, who appeared in e(pially interesting con- 
 verse, I sought a footing on dry ground — rather
 
 CATHAL MORE. 9 
 
 dry ground indeed it seemed to he, for I heard his 
 voice say, " Then if you do not allow our supe- 
 riority over our ancestors, you do not admit the 
 progression of mankind." 
 
 " I am not very well read in history," ]\Irs. 
 More answered, " but it seems to me that though 
 the world's general progress towards perfection 
 cannot be doubted, still it does not necessarily 
 follow that anyone nation is in the vanguard. It 
 is not in a regidar line we march, and some great 
 interruptions have occurred. One of the best 
 proofs of oiu' superiority would be, I think, our 
 not fancying ourselves better than our fore- 
 fathers — for the more knowledge we attain, 
 the more we see of what we have not yet at- 
 tained." 
 
 " But surely you believe in individual perfecti- 
 bility?" 
 
 " God forbid that I should doubt the eventual 
 possibility of pcrfectness — but we do not know 
 what existence we may be in when we attain to 
 it, whether it be possible in this, or will be de- 
 ferred to a future state. But do not think, by 
 perfectness, that I mean a state of shdessness 
 produced by our own volition. I mean, that by 
 a continued faith in the Atonement, and an ex- 
 ercise of the moral acts, which are the offspring 
 
 B 3
 
 10 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 of faith, we iiuiy come to tliat coiidition — that 
 no sin !)(' iiiij)Ul((l to us hy our ju>t .Iiid^a-." 
 
 W hill' sh(' thus spoke, the countenance of her 
 listi'Utr giTW overcast and, resuniiu*j^, his reserved 
 and cokl manner, which for a moment he luid 
 hiid aside — *' I ought to tell you," he said, *' that 
 juy fatlier ;uul 1 arc Unitarians, and he lias im- 
 posed ou me, as a condition, which 1 have pro- 
 mised to fulfil, that, until I am twenty-one, I 
 shall not discuss the points in which our faiths 
 disagree, or read any books on the subject. 1 
 liave found it very needless, generally, to an- 
 nounce this to acquahitances ; but it is plain 
 that you take too dee]) an iutenst in religion to 
 leave it in the back groimd, and you might think 
 my silence strange, if I did not tell you the cir- 
 cumstances which cause it." 
 
 Mrs. More looked nuich ])aincd, and remained 
 silciu for some moments — at last, she said — 
 
 " .\nd, wluii you are twenty-one, will yonr 
 father assist you in using your free judgment ? 
 ihit free, I fear, it cannot be. for habit is the 
 greatest fetter on free-will." 
 
 " Yes ; my father wishes me to study, and 
 weigh the dilhTences between his faith and 
 othrr creeds ; he is very certain 1 shall greatly 
 prefer the Unitarian tenets."
 
 CATHAL MORE. H 
 
 " And wlicn will the time come for your dc- 
 cision ?" asked Mrs. More. 
 
 *' I shall be of age in June. I intend then to 
 devote six months at least, and more, if I am 
 shaken in my present faith, to reading on the 
 subject." 
 
 They remained silent. It was a topic of the 
 gravest interest, and yet one which might not be 
 approached. 
 
 It grew late, and Mrs. More rang for the 
 bed-room candles ; but, before she went, she 
 said to the elder Mr. Schelling — " I trust my 
 son can prevail on you not to leave us to-morrow, 
 if the need for your going be not very m'gent. 
 You will confer real pleasure on us by remaining. 
 — If you are really interested in Ireland, Cathal 
 w^ill show^ you some Irish remahis of the past." 
 
 ]\Ir. Schelling bowed, and, with some coiuteous 
 words, accepted the invitation, warmly pressed as 
 it was by her son, who seemed much pleased 
 with his new acquaintance. 
 
 The next morning rose clear, aiul soft, and 
 sunny, with more of sunnner in it than many 
 a July day — at least, its summerness was more 
 valued than if it had come at a time when we 
 think we have a right to fine weather. The 
 night had been so stormy, that Cathal had in-
 
 12 CATIIAL MORK. 
 
 sistcd Oil my not leaving; Ins lioiisc, inid, as I am 
 an early riser, 1 saw tlic niorninp^ break over the 
 beautiful woods of Cappa^h. It stiMick me, as 
 I gazed, tliat \]\r sun Avould not be so bcaiitiful 
 if it had not the (lin<^v earth as a 'n-ound on 
 which to exhibit the glory of its beams ; and 
 thus, I thought to myself, the glory of the Sun 
 of our faith is most shown wiiere his rays fall on 
 us erring mortals — even our sinfuhiess, the clouds 
 and mists of our moral world, seem to add to 
 it. WhOe I was so meditating, Mr. Rupert 
 Schelling joined me in my morning walk, and 
 in my admiration of the landscape before us. 
 
 Cappagh is on the side of a large heathy 
 mountain ; the greater ])art of the grounds is 
 covered with natural oak, a renmant of the 
 ancient forests, which at one time, shadowed Ire- 
 land. But out of this, glades and breaks were cut 
 for pasture-land, and round them the okl trees 
 stretch tluir arms wide, as if seeking their lost 
 companions. There was an extensive view from 
 the house, which stood high, over a flat cidtivated 
 tract, stretching away for thirty or forty miles, 
 and bomuh (1 by a |)ale nusty outline of hills. 
 The lights and shades passing over so great a 
 space were, on a dappled day, as varied as a 
 kaleidoscope, aiul a larg( tract of bog, about four
 
 CATHAL MORE. 13 
 
 miles broad, returned the glance of the sun 
 witli a peculiar beauty. To my eyes, avIio love 
 coloming more than outline in a landscape, this 
 bog was one of the most beautiful features in the 
 prospect. It was distant enough to allow its 
 own to mingle with the prismatic colours ; on a 
 " gray-day" it was as blue as the March sea ; if 
 a sun-burst fell upon it, it was a second " field 
 of the cloth of gold" — but, on this morning, it 
 seemed in the rising sun, of a pale amethyst 
 colour. 
 
 The chiu*ch spire, with its cross, rose bright 
 and clear over the dark-colom-ed wood ; the fore- 
 ground was a sea of moving colours, which the 
 level rays reflected from the wet leaves, and the 
 fields seemed steeped in a rainbow. 
 
 My companion and I had scarcely time for 
 conversation, for there was too much to admii'e. 
 At last, we turned into a shady avenue — it was 
 the lining of nature's glorious di'ess. 
 
 " Is Mr. More much attached to this beautiful 
 place ?" said Rupert. 
 
 " Next to his mother, it is his dearest pos- 
 session." 
 
 " Are he and his mother the only residents 
 here ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Yes," I said, " th( y are tlic only ones remain-
 
 II CATHAL MORE. 
 
 iiig of tlu'ir iiniiKMliate family. Mrs. More has 
 lost many children here, and 1 scarcely know 
 whether the memorials of them in every object 
 aroimd, or her living son, arc most dear to her." 
 
 *' She seems more thoughtfnl, and less con- 
 ventional, than most women," said he ; *' 1 am 
 sure she has a superior mind." 
 
 " She has been thrown on its resources, and 
 made to exercise it, more than female life gene- 
 rally requires. Iler husband died while she was 
 yet young ; by his will, his son could not be de- 
 clared of legal age until he was thu'ty, — every 
 power was vested in her, and her husband on his 
 death-bed earnestly besought her to reside here. 
 All these conditions she has fnlfilled almost un- 
 aided ; as, to avoid the annoyances Cathal would 
 liave encountered from his legal powerlessness if 
 he had remained at home, she induced him to 
 spend most of his time in travelling and study- 
 ing abroad." 
 
 " But, if Mrs. More has lived so secludedly, 
 how is it she is so well informed and agreeable ?" 
 
 *' My dear sir," 1 answered, " a few really 
 philosophic books, which will provoke original 
 thought, do more for education than a tliousand 
 modern volumes of ready-made reasonings and 
 discoveries. Our mental powxrs require work as
 
 CATHAL MORE. 15 
 
 well as any other part of our frame. But too 
 often we lazily read, when we ought to think, 
 and clog our memories with a load of undigested 
 facts, and ' useful knowledge,' badly remem- 
 bered and always out of repau', if we do happen 
 to need it. ^Irs. More has often been forced to 
 use her own mind, therefore, it has a good ap- 
 petite, and is able to digest almost any food. 
 That is the essence of her agreeability ; she has 
 thought of what she talks about, and has not 
 merely learned it by rote out of a book." 
 
 Rupert was about to answer, when my servant 
 came nmning up to tell me there was a case of 
 croup in the village, which required my imme- 
 diate offices. I begged my young acquaintance 
 to excuse me to Mrs. More, and thoughtlessly, 
 said, " I suppose I shall see you at church." He 
 replied — 
 
 '' After your service is over, I hope so." 
 I had not time to apologize, but hastily bow- 
 ing, I left him for my professional duties.
 
 16 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The village and neighbourhood of which I write, 
 owed much of their prosperity and comfort to our 
 rector, Mr. Hyde, and his family. He did not con- 
 fine his labours to performing the graver duties 
 of a clergyman, but rightly judging that im- 
 provement in the well-being of what was mortal 
 in his charge, contributed also to their moral 
 improvement, he sought by precept and example 
 to encourage thrift, cleanliness, and order among 
 his neighbours of all persuasions. His rectory 
 was in a nook of the Capj)agh demesne, the 
 small farm attached to it w^as a model of plain, 
 economical good management ; and his garden, 
 though well stocked with useful vegetables, was 
 so small and unpretending, that it could be 
 imitated by any cottager. He cultivated bees, 
 reared poultry, was au fait in all the details of 
 a peasant's life, and was ahvays ready to com- 
 municate this knowledge. 
 
 His influence did nuich in raising his cottier 
 neighboms in the scale of civilization. I do not
 
 CATHAL MORE. 17 
 
 think that such were his favourite pursuits, but 
 he adopted thcni as part of his duty as. a country 
 parson. He was of a high family, and had 
 distinguished himself much in his youth, but the 
 ties of society and the w^orld were broken, that 
 he might become a " servant of servants." Surely, 
 it will be said to him, "Friend, go up higher." 
 
 His wife had been some years dead, and his 
 family only numbered his two daughters and 
 himself; they were models of benevolence, and 
 besides being good, they were more accomplished 
 than one could have expected, living in such 
 retirement. Mrs. More had been as a mother 
 to them since their own parent's death, and in 
 all things they sought to follow her example. 
 We were a most united society in our little vil- 
 lage, unlike most others one has ever read of. 
 There was no hete noir amongst us — no shadoAv 
 could be well within the influence of Mrs. 
 More's sunhght. 
 
 On the Sunday I am chronicling, we met, as 
 was our weekly wont, in the church-yard after 
 service. Mrs. More asked me to finish the day, 
 I had so unsociably begun with them. 
 
 The Miss Hydes always spent Sunday after- 
 noon with her, and their father was to join us at 
 dinner, for before then he had many visits to
 
 IS CATHAL MORE. 
 
 pjiy — congratulatory visits on the recurrence of 
 tlie weekly festival. AVe had not walked far uj) 
 the avenue, when we were joined by the two 
 strangers, who had been strolling about, ad- 
 miring the lie of the grounds. Mr. Schelling 
 looked older and more careworn, than by the 
 candle-light on the preceding evening, I had ima- 
 gined him to be, and there was something anxious 
 and unquiet too about his expression, more 
 evident by daylight. After their introductions 
 to the young ladies, we all walked on abreast, 
 taking up the broad avenue with our large party. 
 
 A man, one of the villagers, came up hat in 
 liand to Cathal and asked, " if he might get the 
 key of the summer-house, as he would be obliged 
 for leave to show it to some of his friends ; and, if 
 his honour had no objection, he hoped they might 
 liave a little party in it." 
 
 " It is in your territories, mother," said Cathal. 
 " What do you say ?" 
 
 " By all means," said Mrs. More, in answer to 
 a bow from the farmer, " I hope you will enjoy 
 yourselves. I am sure you will be careful, Reilly, 
 not to let my flowers be injured, or allow any 
 mischief." 
 
 " Of course not, madam, I am greatly obliged 
 to you." And he walked away, looking much
 
 CATHAL MORE. 19 
 
 gratified; for a kindness like this engages an 
 Irishman's gratitude more than even a sohd 
 benefit which does not speak to his feehngs. 
 
 " I did not know, mother," said Cathal, " that 
 you would allow, or encourage these kind of 
 amusements on Sunday." 
 
 " I will not say that I do," answered his 
 mother, '' for ' amusements' admit of so many 
 varieties. I think the dissipation which always 
 injures, is also prejudicial on Sunday, but inno- 
 cent recreation is suited to the day." 
 
 " But, dear Mrs. More," said Miss Catherine 
 Hyde, '' is not the fourth Commandment equally 
 binding as the others ?" 
 
 " Certainly," answered Mrs. More, reverently. 
 " And in that fom^th commandment, I think we 
 may see provision made for the futm-e Christian 
 festival, which we have united to the Sabbath; 
 we do not find in it any injunction against re- 
 joicing, or enjoying pleasure on that day. But 
 the question could not arise if people would only 
 consider that pleasure, or rather happiness, if 
 based on right, (though not always attainable,) is 
 one of the ends of religion. The Puritans have 
 much to answer for, in clothing our Enghsh 
 national faith with gloom and sadness. Tearful 
 of imitating the Roman Catholic good works,
 
 20 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 they adopted iiistrad uiucli of the Jewish cerc- 
 nionial law, especially the observance of the Jew- 
 ish Sabbatli." 
 
 " But do you tliink the Puritan spirit still has 
 sway in England ?" asked Rupert. 
 
 " It is long ere ])rejudices allied with the 
 cause of liberty and religion, the two great 
 agitators of the p\d)lie mind, can be removed." 
 
 " It seems," said Cathal, " as if we could not 
 devote more than one day in the week, in our 
 connnercial England, to religions purposes, and 
 so we join the mortifications of Friday, to the 
 Sunday rejoicings ; bnt, mother, how arc we to 
 carry this advice of yours into execution ? Wliat 
 can we do woi'th enjoying ?" 
 
 '* We nuist first honour the festival by eating 
 something, when we go in ; I do not know if 
 that will be worth enjoying ; and then you must 
 liave a walk across country, and show our guests 
 the ruins of Cappagh More, that you may con- 
 vince them how great we were in the old times 
 that no one knows anv thincr about," answered 
 Mrs. More smilingly. 
 
 " Very well ; but, Mr. Schelling, you must con- 
 sent to stay at least another day, i;nd we will 
 have an expedition through our mountain-pass 
 to the watrrtMll. Would you like it?" And 
 Cathal turned appcalingly to Mr. Schelling.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 21 
 
 *'You are very kind, and I will give myself 
 the enjoyment of another day in Ireland," he 
 answered. " We will have our walk to-day." 
 
 They started gaily after our Sunday luncheon 
 — the pleasantest meal generally enjoyed by the 
 best appetite of all the week. I do not know 
 w4iy; I suppose the digestive organs are healthier 
 for the moral exercises we have just gone through 
 at chm'ch. It is certainly extraordinary how^ 
 the morale is connected with the physique : — 
 Compare tw^o children, as nearly equally strong 
 as may be, in their com^se through life, and 
 it will be seen, if one be influenced by high 
 principle, he will be far healthier than his com- 
 panion, who does not act from good motives. I 
 mean, supposing them to have run nearly the 
 same track." 
 
 Mrs. More and I remained behind, and not 
 long after, j\Ir. Hyde joined us ; w^e talked of 
 the strangers, and she told us how very nuich 
 they had fascinated Catlial — and even herself — 
 but yet she said she could not quite get rid of 
 the painful impression their Unitarianism gave 
 her. At the moment she was most charmed 
 with tlieir agreeability, it came upon her with 
 a chilling feeling, she tokl us. I quite under- 
 stood her — I had often felt the same when
 
 22 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 attending patients whose death w.is :it hand, 
 and who would not believe it. 
 
 At last, tlie others came home from tlieir walk, 
 just as twilight was settling into a winter night's 
 darkness. j\lr. Schelling, Cathal, and Miss 
 Catherine Hyde in one group — Rupert and her 
 sister Agnes following. They were graver than 
 w^hen they set out. There is something peculiarly 
 solemn in the darkness of a winter's evening 
 walk — a soft winter's evening, in which the 
 sympathies of our nature come out all the more 
 w^arm and fresh from having been iced by the past 
 frosts and snows. This summer in winter is as 
 injurious as are all things that are out of place, 
 and such days remind us somewhat of oiu: 
 national character, which often shows warmth and 
 kindness when it is hurtful and wrong to do so. 
 
 Even the gentlemen did not refuse Mrs. More's 
 cup of tea — it really is wonderful how we eat 
 and drink on Sunday — and we gathered round 
 the springing fire. Conversation fell on ghosts 
 and diablerie, for when does not a ])arty of 
 young people naturally recur to the mysterious 
 sid)j('(^t, while they look at the fantastic light 
 a Ihckering wood fire casts on all round, and the 
 dark back-ground behind? Mr. Schelhng was 
 German m his tiieories and belief in some un-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 23 
 
 known agent, which, accordmg to liim, accounted 
 for all that seems to ordmary people unac- 
 countable in the mysteries which are daily occm'- 
 ring ; and he told us many interesting stories not 
 then published, but which have since appeared 
 in Mrs. Crowe's " Nightside of Nature." This 
 power he maintained was not evil, nor was it 
 new ; it had existed since the Creation, but its 
 uses had not yet been fully discovered. 
 
 " But," said Cathal, " all other discoveries of 
 the ao-e are in some wav tano;ible. We under- 
 stand how the wonderful powers of gas and 
 steam, for instance, are evoked. Nothing could 
 be more magical to a man perfectly ignorant of 
 how they were managed, than the ascent of a 
 balloon, or the progress of a locomotive engine. 
 We are let behind the scenes in those cases, and 
 can see how they are shifted ; but the wonders of 
 mesmerism seem to occur accidentally and un- 
 certainly, and so they give good cause for a 
 suspicion that they are but clever tricks, or 
 singular coincidences." 
 
 *' The science of mesmerism is yet in its in- 
 fancy," j\Ir. Schelling answered : " we have not 
 yet got command over this unseen power, but 
 that makes nothing against its existence ; we do 
 not precisely know in what the polar attraction
 
 24 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 of the magnet needle consists, but yet we doubt 
 it not, simply because one petty residt is 
 vulgarized to us in the compass." 
 
 " Still," replied Cathal, '* tluTe is such perfec- 
 tion in machinery and sUght of hand now in the 
 world, that I always gave Alexis and Julie credit 
 for more ingenuity than truth." 
 
 " I do not, any more than you," Mr. Schelling 
 answered, " believe in many of the public exhi- 
 bitions of mesmerism. Gulling the public is too 
 tempting and profitable a trade not to have 
 many followers, who do not care how much they 
 injure the cause of truth. IMesmerism is not fit 
 for the public gaze. Its mysteries are ill calcu- 
 lated by their nature for general exhibition. The 
 imperfect results we do sometimes attain, are too 
 uncertain to be generally satisfactory, and even 
 when we succeed, they are too far beyond what 
 is ordinarily deemed possible to be commonly 
 believed." 
 
 " In a former age, they were more freely be- 
 lieved," remarked Rupert ; *' for nuieh of the 
 then called witchcraft may be exj)lained by mes- 
 merism ; but all that was then mysterious, was 
 attributed to infernal agencies." 
 
 " Yes, and the superstition of those times, and 
 the scepticism of the last century, both worked
 
 CATHAL MORE. 25 
 
 against the development of this science," said 
 Mr. ScheUing. " I trust our age will prove 
 itself superior to either, and I hope much from 
 the rapid increase of knowledge. The greatest 
 generator of faith in all imaginable possibilities 
 is knowledge ; for who that knows the gigantic 
 discoveries, the new powers, the new combina- 
 tions of matter, which late years have brought 
 forth, must not be forced to believe in the like- 
 lihood of still surpassing w^onders ? Knowledge 
 brings us to the confines of those great fields of 
 untrodden space, over which w^e see dimly brood- 
 ing the shapes of future marvels. We are ad- 
 vancing rapidly among them ; and shall we not 
 believe in the greatness of what is before us, by 
 the greatness of those we have touched and felt?" 
 
 '' * Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers,' " 
 said Mrs. More, half to herself; and she added, 
 aloud, " There is a deeper scepticism hidden 
 imder this belief in our unlimited powers for 
 ^vorld-work." 
 
 Mr. ScheUing did not reply ; and there was a 
 pause in the conversation, until Cathal said — 
 
 '' Still one cannot believe the account any man 
 may give of what he thinks he has seen iu this 
 unknown land." 
 
 " No, not the account of any man, but learned 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 :?() CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 anil clever men have given tlieir testimony to 
 the truth of sti-niiirc fiiets j)ro(luei(l hy nirs- 
 inerism. " 
 
 • 1 nrvcr heard a (h tinition ot" mesmerism,'* 
 said Mrs. More. " Is the power you speak of, 
 physical or mental?" 
 
 " I will try and ex[)lain my notion of it," 
 replied Mr. Sehelling. '' We have always felt 
 that our bodies, while we are in our |)resent ex- 
 istence, have au intimate connexion with our 
 minds — or rather, that ])art of us which is called 
 our spirit. It has not been ever exactly ascer- 
 tained in what this connexion consists ; but I 
 understand this missinir link in the chain of onr 
 
 'n 
 
 beinj^, to be magnetism. It belongs to both oiu* 
 material and in\uiaterial parts — ourphysi(|ue and 
 our morale — and is a mediating power between 
 them, miiting their separate creations into one 
 man." 
 
 *' So you make out this invisible power to bo 
 the cause of the singidar influence our minds and 
 bodies seem to exercise over each other?" asked I. 
 
 " Just SO; and as in (me man we see the will 
 and mind exercising an extraordinary power over 
 his material j)art, so 1 believe the sjune agents 
 can, through the mediation of iiuignetism, in- 
 fluence the material part of another man."
 
 CATHAL MORE. Zt 
 
 '* And could your will })rodiicc any effect on 
 one of us?" I asked. 
 
 " No visible eflect, unless, perhaps, I were, by 
 the usual means, to produce a stronger magnetic 
 rapport than at present exists." 
 
 '' There are certainly singular results often 
 produced," said Mrs. More, " nor is it wise to 
 be incredulous. If T understand you aright, you 
 say, that there is a third part besides the two, 
 commonly believed to exist in the being of man. 
 This part you say forms the connexion which 
 certainly exists between our mortal and immortal 
 parts ; and what we call mesmerism is, you 
 think, the effect of the action of this part. 
 Whether this be so, is a question for waser heads 
 than mine ; — but there is certainly some pro- 
 bability in what you say." 
 
 " It is the solution of the mystery which has 
 Beemed most satisfactory to myself," he replied. 
 *' Of course, when I spoke of an unseen active 
 agency, I did not intend one exterior to man. 1 
 should hardly have dared to insult your reason 
 by so largely taxing yom* faith." 
 
 '* The noblest act of reason is to bow to faith," 
 Mrs. More replied gravely. 
 
 *' I know," he answered, with a smile, " that 
 some say there is a void left by our reasoning 
 
 c2
 
 2S CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 powers wliicli fjiith must lill , but 1 do not 
 think any one rntliusiastic enough to deny that 
 taitli must not only be based on, but be bounded 
 by reason. We must understand why and what 
 we beUeve." 
 
 " Do not get mcta])hysical," exclaimed Cathal, 
 ' or we, in this corner, shall be outstripped." 
 
 I lis mother did not reply to Mr. Schelling, 
 and the conversation became general, and on less 
 interesting subjects. The elder stranger asked 
 many questions of Capi)agh and of the Mores. 
 He said that he had heard of Cathal's father, 
 from some mutual friends in England, many 
 years ago, and of his high character as an Irish 
 liuidlord, who had been foremost in the improve- 
 ment of his tenantry. 
 
 The coincidence gained for him almost the 
 welcome of a long-known friend — for praise of 
 Mr. More was to his widow and his son ever a 
 passport to their kindness ; and, before we sepa- 
 rated lor the night, Cathal had laid bare to his 
 guest most of his wishes and })lans for the well- 
 being of his pe()j)le — his clan, I had almost said ; 
 lor the feeling of clanshij) had l)een much c\dti- 
 \at(d b( twcen his ancestors and their poorer 
 neighbours, and uuit((l them by a closer bond 
 than leases and rents.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Nearly a week passed aftertliat Sunday evening, 
 before I had again an opportunity of visiting Ca])- 
 pagh House, but I occasionally saw Cathal and his 
 guests, as, riding or driving, they passed through 
 the village. I was surprised that Mr. SchelUng 
 delayed so long to go, as he had said, the evening 
 of his arrival, that he was in haste to return to 
 London. I was curious to know the cause, so I 
 walked up on the Thursday following to see Mrs. 
 More. I found her busy planning a terrace, which 
 was, she told me, to connect the drawing-room 
 side of the house, with a grass-garden about five 
 minutes' walk from it, and enjoying with all the 
 delight of a landscape-gardener, the improvement 
 that had been effected, in even the few days she 
 had been at work. 
 
 " I have missed you so much Doctor," she 
 said, after our first greeting. *' I wanted you to 
 help me in the indulgence of my old fancy. 
 Don't you remember," she continued, " my often 
 telling you how much I wished for this."
 
 30 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 "Tell mc first, my dear madam, " T said, for a 
 definite plan had hardly then bc^en shaped out of 
 the chaos of felled trees and loose stones which 
 was around, '' what it is to be." 
 
 '' Don't you see ?" she exclaimed wdth the as- 
 tonished air of a planner, who forgets that his 
 scheme is as yet only sketched in his own brain. 
 "It is my long hoped-for terrace. Mr. Schelling 
 has arranged the practical part of the design, 
 and Cathal tells me that his rents have been so 
 well paid, that he insists on my having the use of 
 a splendid sum of money. Before he came of 
 age, I felt it would not be honest to spend his 
 income in such things." 
 
 " I am no great judge," I replied, " but I am 
 sure from the fall of the ground, a terrace here 
 would be an ini])rovement." 
 
 " Will you get up on that rock. Doctor," she 
 said, " that will be about its height when it is 
 finished." 
 
 With some difficulty and sundry injuries to 
 my best suit, which it never recovered, I did as 
 I was desired, and I was certainly well repaid by 
 a new view of my favourite part of the grounds. 
 It was different in its character from that of the 
 front, which I have described. I have said the 
 Park lay on the side of a mountain, but the
 
 CATHAL MORE. 31 
 
 house was, however, situated on the top of the 
 first ascent, and immediately behind it a deep 
 gorge, or chamber, was formed by a mountain - 
 torrent ; which gathered into a httle tarn under 
 thedrawing-room^^dndows, picturesquely walled in 
 by overhanging rocks. Escaping through them on 
 the side of the valley, the stream fell sheer down 
 a height of about thirty feet, dashing its spray 
 over the mountain ash and natural birch which 
 clung to the steep side of the ravine. A mist 
 hung like smoke over it, and when the sun shone 
 up the little glen, a rainbow spanned it for hom-s. 
 The terrace was to command a view of this scene, 
 and from it, one could look into the depths of the 
 gorge over the trees which had hitherto intercepted 
 the view. Though they were not now^ in leaf, the 
 hoar frost gave them softness, and the long icicles 
 hano;inor from the branches near the waterfall 
 gleamed and sparkled in the light. 
 
 I admired the scene in silence, for I always feel 
 that the nameless charm of natural beauty ceases, 
 when we try to praise it. There is a meaning in 
 the old stories of fairy enchantments which a 
 mortal word could disperse. It is so with many 
 of our most refined pleasures ; above all, our love 
 of what is beautiful. 
 
 " Have we not cause to be glad of Mr. Schel-
 
 32 CATHAI, MOUK. 
 
 linpj's visit," said Mrs. More — his son liad hct'ii 
 assisting her when 1 joiniMl thcni, bnt lie had re- 
 mained with tlie workiiu n when we aseendedthe 
 httle height to see the view. " I le aiiaiiired it all." 
 slie eontinned. " and lie seems to hav(^ e\eell(Mit 
 taste, indeed he excels in all that we have seen 
 him nndertake. ^ly son enjoys his society very 
 nnieli." 
 
 There is always, T believe, a smart of jealonsy 
 in an old tVicMid's mind, when he finds some chance 
 ac(jnaintanee suddenly favoured. — I said, drily : 
 
 " Your first im])ression was not so pleasant." 
 
 •* The charm of his manner," she replied more 
 gravely, " has sometimes made me forget his 
 prineij)les; however, as Cathal takes him out shoot- 
 ing and over his estate, I have not seen much 
 of him except in the evenings. His son has been 
 my chief comj)anion." 
 
 ** And is he as pleasing as hisfatherr" 1 asked. 
 
 "He is not nearly so clever,"she answered, "but 
 young as he is, his tone of thought seems pitched 
 80 high that 1 cannot but admire him." 
 
 " It is singnlar, I said, " how in all sects bright 
 examples of exeellenci^ exist." 
 
 " Yes," she replied, *' but surely most so among 
 Catholics ; in the darknesa of error, the few noble 
 examples which do aj)pcar, show more brightlv
 
 CATHAL MORE. 33 
 
 than if they Avere in the sun-Hght of ovir 
 truth." 
 
 *' And yet," I said, " at first sight it appears 
 that such instances deserve all the more admira- 
 tion, for even gUnmiering througli the darkness 
 which is about them." 
 
 ** I cannot think it so strange as some do, that 
 we should see moral excellence among the * bar- 
 barous people,' for all possess within them th(^ 
 faculty of perceiving natural religion, which is the 
 ground work of revelation." 
 
 " And do you think," I asked, with some cu- 
 riosity, as it was a question which had often per- 
 plexed me, " that those who attain the moral ex- 
 cellence you speak of, will be hereafter ranked with 
 those who have taken no pains to do right?" 
 
 " I could not think so," she replied, " thougli 
 this subject is involved in the doubt which hangs 
 over our futiu-e ; but of one thing I feel convinced, 
 that however those w4io are in ignorance of re- 
 vealed religion may be judged, there is little ex- 
 cuse for men wlio, in an enlightened country, and 
 a christianized age, still remain in glaring error." 
 
 " Then you consider the position of your guests 
 to be a dangerous one?" I asked. 
 
 " I fear so, if indeed they hold in all tilings 
 the Unitarian tenets." 
 
 c 3
 
 34 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 " And do you not think such condemnation 
 uncharitable?" 
 
 " Can conch innation of false doctrine be too 
 strong?" she replied, " wc cannot certainly know 
 how far men may hohl these doctrines, and it is 
 right to 'believe all things good' of our neigh- 
 bour ; but it seems to mc a wrong timidity which 
 shrinks from acknowledging the evil of those who 
 rejc^ct the advantages offered by their living in a 
 Christian country." 
 
 A rustling among the trees Ijclow us interrupted 
 our conversation, and a moment after Cathal's 
 bead and shoulders showed through the copse, as 
 he actively climbed up the steep ; Mr. Schelling, 
 his companion, chose an easier way, but both were 
 soon at our sid(\ well loaded with woodcocks and 
 snipe, which they had met during their walk. 
 
 " Well, Doctor," exclaimed Cathal, when he had 
 n cov('n;d breath enough to speak. " How do 
 you like our new work ': Do you think it an im- 
 provement ?" 
 
 " Certainly, when such a view as this is gained." 
 
 "To please me," said Mrs. More, "though 
 this is very pretty, I like beauty on a larger scale, 
 the view frouj the hall-door, for instance." 
 
 *' Y(;t that ha.s no striking feature," said Mr. 
 ScIh lling.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 35 
 
 " Perhaps few people would agree with nie," 
 replied Mrs. More, " but I like the unobtrusive 
 scenery, which has no particular points, as it were, 
 demanding attention. I dont like what art 
 called ' views.' A tourist would most likely think 
 scarce looking at, what I most admire, a wild broad 
 moor, for instance, undulating in purple waves." 
 
 " I think I know what you mean," said Mr. 
 Schelling, " a kind of limitless beauty which you 
 cannot lay hold of, or say it is here, or it is there, 
 because it is everywhere, and pervades the whole 
 scene. It is the beauty of the sea, not the beauty 
 of a cliff, or bay." 
 
 " That is partly my meaning," she answered, 
 *' one grows tired of a ' pretty view,' though it 
 at first pleases the taste for graceful outlines. 
 When we cannot see the end of a broad expanse, 
 it does not tire." 
 
 '* No," said Rupert, '' one may be tired of one's 
 own finite capacity, but never of immensity." 
 
 " One may lose oneself in it, however," said 
 his father, " and that is just as bad." 
 
 *' I, and your son," said Mrs. More, turning to 
 him, " were debating after you left us this morn- 
 ing, whether there should be, at the end of the 
 terrace, a gravel slope, or steps with a balustrade. ' 
 
 ''The latter plan by all means," he answered,
 
 3G CATnAL MORE. 
 
 " gravel would be washed oft' a hill-side like 
 this." 
 
 " That will exceed our estimate, I fear," she re- 
 phed, "anything; of cut stone is so ex])ensive." 
 
 " But do not think of that — common mason- 
 work covered with cement can be made to imitate 
 Portland stone wonderfully." 
 
 She shook her head ; ''I have an old-fashioned 
 rule, Mr. Schelling, never to allow any false seem- 
 ing even in mason-work. It seems to me the 
 most excellent pretence is a deformity." 
 
 " No one could distinguish the imitation I 
 speak of." 
 
 " That is all the worse, your pseudo stone-pillars 
 would be positive cheating," said she, half-laugh- 
 ingly. 
 
 "I confess," he replied, "I am one of the 
 school who think in such a matter, any means that 
 produced th(^ desired effect are allowable." 
 
 " Hut besides the question of truth," said Mrs. 
 More, '' is it not selfish only to work for oiu-selves? 
 Most of these architectural falsehoods can only 
 maintain their fair-seeming for a generation ; then, 
 at least, we shall be found out, and our descendants 
 will imdowith contempt the ruins of our works." 
 
 " After all, what liarm will be done ; the school 
 of design will have i unproved, our children will 
 know better how to work for themselves, than if
 
 CATHAL MORE. 37 
 
 we had cumbered thein with our lasting mis- 
 takes." 
 
 " Perhaps they may know how to build roofs 
 and walls quickest and cheapest. I fear, however, 
 the increasing restlessness of men is bad for the 
 spirit of true art in architecture." 
 
 " What ! do you think the increased know- 
 ledge, gained by traveUing, can injure any art ? 
 Is not our taste refined : are not our prejudices 
 removed ?" 
 
 " And we get a 'little learning' on subjects of 
 which the common sort of men can know but 
 very little; we profess our opinions all the more 
 strongly that they are erroneous, and the archi- 
 tect, either to make money or a name, forsakes the 
 bent of his own genius, if he have one, to follow 
 the dictum of the crowd. Now a ])uilder, in 
 the middle ages, worked to satisfy his own instinct 
 of beauty. I fear the 'useful knowledge' of the 
 many, is a sad fetter to the genius of individuals." 
 
 " I cannot join you in disliking knowledge to 
 be widely spread," answered Mr. Schelhng, " for 
 it often leads to great attainments, and travelling 
 and seeing are one of the best ways to acquire 
 it. Even in building, whose taste is not the better 
 for having seen St. Peter's ?" 
 
 " But we become too cosmopoUtan to love our
 
 38 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 homes and native towns, with the deep-seated 
 affection which formerly inspired their inhabi- 
 tants. They worked, not witli hith and plaister 
 but in the hardest stone to be had, for they were 
 earnest men, and loved excellence more than mere 
 vulgar api)lause. Such buildings remind us of 
 the past, and lead on our minds to the future. 
 Repose is their chief characteristic, and a calm 
 heedlessness of passing events, which could scarcely 
 exist with the restless seeking for present utility, 
 now rife hi the world." 
 
 " Yet, surely, my dear madam," said Mr. 
 Schelhng — and, as he spoke, I fancied I detected 
 a slight sneer in his manner — '' those exalted 
 ideas of art will scarcely prevent your consulting 
 your own convenience about the terrace-steps." 
 
 " You laugh at my earnestness in so small a 
 matter," said Mrs. More, somewhat gravely ; 
 ** and yet, I fear, if we did not use our right prin- 
 ciples even in trifles, they would rust in the 
 scabbard." 
 
 ** Can you imagine how far my mother carries 
 her refinement ?" said Cathal. " I ordered a 
 carved frame, for tlie mirror of her morning 
 room, of gutta percha, in imitation of oak. It 
 would have been thought an improvement on 
 the present old-fashioned wooden one ; but when
 
 CATHAL MORE. 39 
 
 she saw it she begged me to return it to the 
 maker, because it was ' a pretence/ she said/' 
 
 " I had many doubts about my rightfulness, 
 however," answered his mother, affectionately ; 
 " for the kindness which prompted you, was, at 
 least, not ' a pretence/ " 
 
 During oiu- conversation, we had walked to- 
 wards the house, and as it was nearly dark, I 
 prepared to leave them at the hall-door, but both 
 Cathal and his mother pressed me so warmly to 
 join their dinner-party, that I willingly stayed. 
 The gentlemen commenced a discussion on shoot- 
 ing and dogs, so I followed Mrs. More to the 
 dramng-room. 
 
 *' How well Mr. Schelhng seems to suit your 
 son !" I said, when we were alone. "Have 
 you heard anything more of who and what 
 he is ?" 
 
 " Nothing, except that he is a rich London 
 merchant — he said something the night of his 
 arrival, of his having known my husband — and, 
 I have an indistinct remembrance of having heard 
 the name of Schelling before now, but, with 
 what connected, I cannot call to mind." 
 
 " It is singular," I said, " how we see, as in 
 your son's case, sudden sympathies and antipa- 
 thies unaccountable to others/'
 
 40 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 " And, sometimes," she added, " these meet- 
 ings of unknown friends and enemies precede 
 changes in" our views and actions. I liavc, at 
 least, thought I couhl trace strange effects from 
 these sudden frien(lshi|)s. I cannot quite approve 
 of my son's admiration for all that his new friend 
 says and does," she continued, gravely. 
 
 I saw that she was annoyed, and, as I was an 
 old and privileged friend, I ventured to ask if 
 she had any urgent cause for disapproving of 
 Mr. Schclling. 
 
 " I am what the world calls bigotted," she 
 replied, " and I do not think strong ties should 
 exist between persons so opposed in the principles 
 of their conduct, as, I trust, my son, and a Uni- 
 tarian would be. He seems singularly anxious 
 to propagate his belief, and to preach, what I 
 esteem very false doctrines of toleration. I fear, 
 lest my son shoidd be imbued with them, for 
 anything, however far from the reality, which 
 but bears the title of religious liberty is attrac- 
 tive to Cathal." 
 
 " And have you heard Mr. Schelling advance 
 such theories?" 
 
 " Many of his remarks tend that way, and 
 Cathal seems to have adopted some of his notions, 
 which, I don't think he formerly held ; but, my
 
 CATHAL MORE. 41 
 
 fears may be groundless — a mother's ear is 
 quickly alarmed . ' ' 
 
 " It is not likely," I said, " that your son, at 
 his age, and having seen so much of the world, 
 should swerve from his settled convictions." 
 
 " I don't think, what is called ' seeing much of 
 the world ' at all fixes principle. ]\Ien travel, and 
 a great deal of knowledge is undoubtedly forced in 
 by their eyes and ears, but the very quantity they 
 see and hear makes it the more difficult for them 
 to put it in order, and draw their own conclusions 
 from it." 
 
 ''Tridy," I agreed, ''they do get a farrago of 
 opinions, and ' a dust of systems and of creeds ' 
 collected from all classes and all nations, and 
 seldom decide, or even try to discriminate which 
 is the best of all the theories or practices which 
 they have seen in action." 
 
 " It shoidd be quite otherwise," she repHed ; 
 " but, I think, now-a-days, in proportion as men 
 have grown active bodily, their thoughts have 
 been left asleep. There is such a rage and 
 fashion of haste in the world, that our thoughts, 
 when we travel, are mostly employed in consider- 
 ing how we may go fastest. We learn to travel 
 now-a-days, instead of travelling to learn." 
 
 '' And yet," said I, and I spoke from personal
 
 42 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 recollection of having been often unceremoniously 
 contradicted by these scaniperers through the 
 world, " one hears strong opinions on the most 
 puzzling foreign questions, from those who have 
 spent a summer or two in steam-boats and rail- 
 way-carriages." 
 
 " In their hurry," she replied, " thc^ can only 
 look at that side of the matter which happens to 
 present itself to their pre-conceived notions — 
 What can they gain but prejudices ?" 
 
 " They think themselves very enlightened tra- 
 vellers, if they look at all," I said ; " and, after 
 all, one can scarcely expect Lord So-and-so and 
 his tutor, and families of ' stuck up people' to do 
 much more." 
 
 "It is strange how we get into a conventional 
 way of not ' expecting ' people to be wise, and not 
 recognising that they are responsible both for 
 thought and opinion. My son has, however, I 
 think, learned and thought much, and I am far 
 from fearing that what I have said applies to 
 him." 
 
 " You have, truly, no reason," I said earnestly; 
 " he is, T think, all that you could wish. I know 
 not a more promising young man — Promising ! 
 he is performing his early promise." 
 
 '* And, yet," she said — and paused. I waited
 
 CATHAL MORE. 43 
 
 for her to continue. " I fear he is weak/' she 
 Avent on ; " easily led by those around him. He 
 takes his opinions too much from those of his 
 companions, without inquiring for himself.'* 
 
 " I think you find fault," said I, " with what 
 is but an excellence in him. He acknowledges 
 that he can yet learn much from his fellow-men ; 
 the contrary is too frequently seen." 
 
 " To do so is wise, but not to follow blindly 
 the leadinoj of others. We must think, as we 
 shall be judged, by ourselves." 
 
 Though I would not appear to agree with 
 !Mrs. More lest I might increase her anxiety, I 
 could not but think the same of Cathal, and yet 
 it was not that he was weak : his indecision arose 
 more from a constitutional indolence of his mind, 
 for, once roused, I had seen him resolute enough 
 in opposing wrong. 
 
 The dressing-bell distiu"bed our conversation, 
 and nothing worth recording marked the rest of 
 the evening. Mrs. More and Rupert conversed 
 much together, while the elder Mr. Schelling and 
 Cathal spoke of Irish affairs, and the intricate 
 questions connected with the management of 
 landed property. 
 
 I w^as glad to see that Rupert had interested 
 my friend, for, even during the slight acquaint-
 
 44 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 ance I had had with him, I had been pleased by 
 his quiet and unobtrusive, yet earnest manner. 
 
 At the close of the evening, he and his father 
 bade adieu to Mrs. More, for tliey had arranged 
 to start early the following morning ; and, at half- 
 past seven, I saw their carriage passing through 
 the village, from my window. My early rising 
 gained for me a graceful bow from Mr. Schelling, 
 and a quieter one from Rupert, in which I felt 
 there was more real kindness.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The following Sunday, I again saw my friends 
 at Cappagh, as I always spent the afternoon of 
 festivals with them. 
 
 There had been a violent storm the night be- 
 fore, and all nature looked desolate; the last 
 flowers had been blown away; the last leaves 
 had fallen, leaving no promise of more ; dead 
 branches lay on the avenue, impeding the way, 
 for, as it was Sunday, no labourer had been em- 
 ployed to remove them. The clouds covered the 
 sky, leaving no break, and without even a shade 
 of hghter colour to give hope they might rise. 
 The wind seemed to have entirely passed away, 
 and gone on to a farther country, except when 
 a gust, which had been caught in some corner, 
 or round one of the old trees, rose, and swept 
 mournfully after its companions. The whole 
 dreary scene reminded me of what, in practice, 
 I had often seen, affliction falling on a worldly 
 mind, and sweeping away the dead flowers and
 
 46 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 sere branches of present hopes and pleasures. 
 A summer-storm is like Christian sorrow: when 
 it is past, the landscape rises as if from a bath, 
 softened and smiling, the air is purified, and the 
 liowc^rs (piickly grow again in the room of their 
 broken fellows ; all shows signs of improvement 
 and increased life. After the winter wind, nothing 
 is left but destruction — it worketh \mto death. 
 
 I had seen a large party in the More pew at 
 church, so I was not unprepared to find Cathal's 
 room full of gentlemen, with one or two of whom 
 I had been before acquainted. Sir Hamilton 
 Savage bowed distantly to me as I entered ; he 
 was a distant connection of the Mores, and I 
 had frequently met him at Cappagh, but he 
 thought further greeting needless to a dispensary 
 doctor. There were also Mr. Guy de Burgli, 
 a gentleman living in our country, and two Hus- 
 sar Officers from , to whom Cathal intro- 
 duced me as Major Wyndham and Mr. Amyot 
 Parks, belonging to the same regiment, but very 
 different in both manner and a})pearance. Major 
 Wyndliam was dark, and would have been very 
 handsome, but for a certain superciliousness of 
 expression. His eyebrows were arched, as if 
 he kept his eyes open only by an effort ; and, 
 after a slight acknowledgment of my introduc-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 47 
 
 tion, he remained silently lounging before the 
 fire, one hand deep in his pocket, while the other 
 played with his whiskers and moustaches. Mr. 
 Parks, on the contrary, nervously started when I 
 entered the room, and abruptly held out his 
 hand, drawing it back and blushing, when he 
 perceived that I was a stranger. His hair and 
 whiskers were of a whity-brown colour, pecuhar 
 to haberdashers' parcels ; indeed, that was his 
 pervading colour, only relieved by his large, bright 
 blue, expressionless eyes. 
 
 " I think my mother would be glad if you 
 joined her," said Cathal, who saw readily enough 
 that I should enjoy her society more than that of 
 his visitors. 
 
 I found Mrs. ]\lore in her morning-room, and 
 alone ; she received me with her usual kindness. 
 
 " You have a large party," I said, after our first 
 words of greeting. " Are there any ladies ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. de Burgh, and Miss Savage, and 
 the two dear children from the Rectory." 
 
 " It was too wet for you to go to church this 
 morning?" I asked. 
 
 " I have had a cold since the evening we stood 
 out so late on the new terrace, and I must im- 
 prison it for a day or two."
 
 48 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 *' Are Major Wyndham and Mr. Parks friends 
 of your son's ?" I asked. 
 
 " No, he met them accidentally at , and, as 
 
 they spoke very disconsolately of the dulhiess of 
 the neij^hbourhood, he asked them to come here. 
 I do not think either of them very agreeable, but 
 that may be my own fault." 
 
 " Surely," I said, *' such opposites must either 
 of them be pleasant in some way." 
 
 '' One cannot but perceive that Major Wynd- 
 ham is ridiciding every thing Irish." 
 
 " But you do not mind that," I said. 
 
 " It is disagreeable to feel that one has not 
 succeeded in giving pleasure to a guest." 
 
 " I do not know," said I, " why it is, that men 
 like this Major Wyndham, are always made so 
 nnieh of in Ireland." 
 
 " There is no csj)ril de corps among most of us, 
 and we fancy we can no better prove our supe- 
 riority than by our intense admiration of an Eng- 
 lishman, of Major AVyndham's class, of course 
 joining him in his laughter at anything peculiar 
 to us." 
 
 •* And yet it is a pity," I said, " that there 
 should be such a mania among us of having every 
 thing a V Anglaise ; however superior their nation- 
 ahty may be to ours, we make a sad hybrid of
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 49 
 
 our character, when we graft their customs and 
 ideas on it." 
 
 " Neither Cathal nor I admire satire ; he would 
 not have asked Major Wyndham, had he known 
 that it was a characteristic of his." 
 
 '' What do you think of Sir Hamilton Savage 
 and his daughter?" I asked. "He is especially 
 severe to Irish faults, though an Irishman." 
 
 ''It is unlucky that he should meet Major 
 Wyndham. When he is only with plain Irish- 
 men, he forgets to show off." 
 
 " These are very different from, your last guests," 
 said I. 
 
 " Very," she echoed ; " yet, however we may 
 enjoy the society of intellectual people, one must 
 seek rather for goodness in one's companions." 
 
 " Yet talent is such a means of great 
 works." 
 
 " Still, without goodness, it is a poor possession. 
 Rorn of earth, it exercises itself on earthly things, 
 and looks not beyond them. What place will 
 talent hold in our future ? Genius, even, though 
 ever seeking for something better than earth can 
 afford, yet cannot satisfy itself. Goodness alone 
 is imchangcable and always to be prized." 
 
 It was pleasant to see Mrs. More's countenance 
 w hen she spoke of such matters ; she looked 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 so thoroughly imbued with that goodness she 
 ])raisod. 
 
 *' But wlicrc do you find good people ?" I said. 
 'J'herc was tridy one before me, but where were 
 her equals ? 
 
 " Goodness in all," she said ; " and we are de- 
 void of the love of it, if we do not seek for it, 
 and encom-age the germ of it, in whoever we may 
 have companionship Avith/' 
 
 Our conversation was interrupted by Cathal, 
 Avlio joined us, he said, to have a few minutes of 
 rv'lief before dinner. " I am bored to death with 
 these people, this wet day ; you look interesting 
 and interested — great contrasts to those I have left. 
 They are each drawing out the worst propensity 
 of his companion ; Sir Hamilton is on six-feet 
 stilts before AVyndham, and they are all making 
 a butt of Parks, except De Burgh, who looks afraid 
 to join, lest they should turn and make one of 
 him." 
 
 "You don't like your new acquaintances, then?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " Wyndhain ought to have something in 
 him," he replied ; " I met his brother in Syria, 
 aud he was a very good fellow; Parks seems a 
 niiuiy. I said something about 'the house that 
 .lack buih,' and he wanted to know who Jack
 
 CATHAL MORE. 51 
 
 was, and if he lived near here ? Then Wyndham 
 told him that it was in this country that ' three 
 children slid on ice, all on a summer's day,' and 
 the rest of the rhyme, appealing to Sir Hamilton, 
 as an Irishman, if it were not so. It was excellent 
 to see him imitating Wyndham's quiet manner, 
 and saying, ' Really, not having been much in Ire- 
 land, I don't know many of the country stories.'" 
 
 " Come in," said Mrs. More, in answer to a 
 knock at the door. 
 
 The Miss Hydes came in. 
 
 "We thought you were alone, dear Mrs. More, 
 or we should not have disturbed you." 
 
 " Have you really walked up ?" exclaimed Ca- 
 thal, seeing their bonnets and shawls. 
 
 " It is fine now," Miss Hyde said, '' and we 
 know our way so well ; a little darkness does 
 not signify. We took your message to papa ; 
 he says he cannot come to-night, but he will to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " You must go and take off your damp clothes 
 at once," said Mrs. More ; ''it is time to dress." 
 
 '* Is it really so late ? have we missed oiu* even- 
 ing half hour ?" said Agnes Hyde. 
 
 " You have indeed, and now you must prepare 
 to help me to entertain our guests," said, Mrs. 
 More. 
 
 D 2 
 
 IfBRARY 
 
 UNiVERSmr OF HUflOS
 
 52 f'ATIIAL MOl.i,. 
 
 Tlic (lnn\ in^-i'oom at ('appn^Li^li was never \rr\ 
 hriLrlitly liirlited before diniur, so 1 had not a dis- 
 tinct view of Miss Savap^e till we went into the 
 dinint^-rooni. 1 was cnrious about lier, for I had 
 oftrn heard of her, and knew many of her con- 
 nexions. Wc sat o])])ositc to each other, and 
 I was nuich diverted at observing the customs of 
 a thorough '* young lady," as she certainly was. 
 Her dress seemed, to my inexperienced eye, 
 to ])e very smart, and she had pretty features ; 
 but tliey were all long and pointed : her nose 
 was pointed, her elbows Avere pointed, she had 
 ])()ints all over her, and they were all red ; still 
 she possessed the glitter of good society, and 
 that is very dazzling to a *' harndess villager" 
 like myself. 
 
 I have not described the i\Iiss Ilydes ; they 
 were like each other, for both had fair hair and 
 calm blue eyes, but the elder, Agnes, was the 
 mon* beahtiful, and, though she reseml)led her 
 sister, it was with an idealized likeness. If Ca- 
 therine's eyes were the colour of forget-me-nots, 
 Agnes' were like '' the forget-me-nots of the 
 angels." Catherine's brilliant colour ])roved her 
 excclli^nt h( alth, Agnes' beauty looked immortal, 
 as if health or sickness coidd scarce interfere to 
 change it Catherine's figure might be called
 
 CATHAL MORE. 5 '3 
 
 by some luxuriant ; Agnes' did not conic into any 
 particular class ; it was simply bcautifid. 
 
 On tliis occasion, they wore wreaths of ivy- 
 k'aves twined in their hair. Catherine looked a 
 Bacchante; Agnes a Sybil. The difference in their 
 appearance agreed with the difference in their 
 characters, and perhaps w^as caused by it, for L 
 have always observed that the mind influences tht^ 
 exterior form. Perhaps the perfecthig of the 
 Without in a future state, Avill be but the conse- 
 quence of the purified interior of our being ; ami 
 Agnes' mind w^ as as much more akin to the Ideal 
 as lier form was. They had many tastes in 
 conmion, yet the elder sister's was ever tlie 
 most refined. Catherine, for instance, loved ca- 
 ricature, and enjoyed the Dutch school of art, 
 but Agnes had a positive aversion for any dis- 
 tortion or ugliness ; and, when she took a like- 
 ness or sketched from nature, she cast upon her 
 drawing the beauty of her mind. Theyboth sang; 
 Catherine, the sparkhng florid songs of modern 
 Italian masters ; Agnes, the cold, stately, " soU-nui 
 nuisic" of former centuries. Catherine was i\ 
 pleasant conn)anion on a fresh spring day ; Agnes 
 sorted best with sunmier twilight. 
 
 Major Wyndham was late for dinner, and a 
 servant was sent three times to announce it to
 
 54 CATllAL MORE. 
 
 him ; at last, lie took his place, and very delibe- 
 rately went through the eours's he had missed, in 
 silence, until hearing the word hunting, he asked, 
 
 " Is there not a hunt in Ireland ? I heard of one 
 in Kil — something or another." 
 
 " You mean Kilkenny, perhai)s," said Cathal. 
 
 " Yes, that is the name ; is it anywhere near 
 here ?" 
 
 " The town of Kilkenny is about fifty miles off." 
 
 " And do you ride fifty miles to hunt ? I've 
 done that in South Africa, but then there was 
 some sport at the end/' 
 
 " There certainly is nothing to do in Ireland,'* 
 said Sir Hamilton Savage, in a deprecating tone 
 of voice. 
 
 " Perhaps not, for some tastes," remarked Mrs. 
 More. 
 
 ** I can't conceive how people can exist in this 
 stupid country," he continued. 
 
 " I manage it," said Cathal, " though I've spent 
 ten years in other scenes of the world. I have 
 come to the conclusion, after all, that we abuse 
 Ireland only because we want to be in the fashion I" 
 
 ** It is very odd," said Major AVyndham, "how 
 Irish people always fail in their efforts to attain to 
 it, though they sacrifice every thing to fashion !" 
 
 Miss Savage seemed discomposed at hearing
 
 CATHAL MORE. 55 
 
 this verdict from one to whom she looked up as 
 so good a judge, and her father instantly began 
 a discussion on the origin of different Irish fami- 
 lies with Mrs. iVIore, proving that his had cer- 
 tainly only settled in Ireland within the last hun- 
 dred years. 
 
 " Of ail the people I have met in Ireland," 
 said Major Wyndham, " the most absurd are the 
 would-be Anglo-Irish." 
 
 Mrs. More tried good-naturedly to change the 
 subject, (for a round table made the conversation 
 general ; and Miss Savage, notwithstanding her a 
 2jIoy/ib looked uncomfortable,) and said, "You, 
 Mrs. de Burgh, are fresh from the perfect country, 
 which England seems to be, and yet you can give 
 a tolerably good account of us." 
 
 " Oh yes," answered the quiet little lady, " Ire- 
 landhas many advantages over England; the people 
 are so obliging, and there are scarcely any taxes." 
 
 Major Wyndham turned towards her, when he 
 heard her English accent ; but her remark seemed 
 to check in him any desire to make her further 
 acquaintance, for he relapsed into silence, and said 
 little more during dinner-time. 
 
 " Are you going immediately to Leamington ?" 
 asked Cathal of Miss Savage, to break the pause. 
 
 " We are, for papa's old friend, the Duke of
 
 56 (ATI FA I, y\on\:. 
 
 , is to !)(' there next week, and they \v(juhl 
 
 iK)t miss each other on any account." 
 
 " Dill you not know our nei'^dihour, Mi . 
 O'Ncil?" said Mrs. .More; "he was there last 
 winter.'* 
 
 *' l^ipa would not allow nie to be introduced 
 to liini ; he never likes getting among Irish 
 ])eople in England, and anybody whose name 
 began with an ' () ' was suspicious." 
 
 "That was a pity !" said Mrs. i\Iorc, smilhig ; 
 *'hc is very much to be liked, and he has nearly 
 eleven thousand a-year, two beautiful places in 
 Ireland, and a shooting-lodge in the Highlands." 
 
 " Oh, how charming the Highlands are !" ex- 
 claimed Miss Savage ; " we spent a month at 
 
 the Duke of A 's this autunm, and I enjoyed 
 
 deer-stalking so much." 
 
 " I tried deer-stalking when we were quartered 
 in Scotland," said Mr. Parks, who sat next Mrs. 
 More; "bat I coidd not stand the fatigue, and 
 1 jun subj(x-t to a giddiness in my head." 
 
 No one seemed to sym})athize with him, for 
 his comj)laint was left nnanswered ; indeed, con- 
 versation languished sadly, and 1 began to spe- 
 culate on when tlu^ ladies would move. Mr. 
 Parks, 1 think, was similarly occupied ; for wlu n 
 at length Mrs. More made the appointed signal,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 57 
 
 he ruslied with great alacrity to open the dour, 
 but catching his feet in a stray napkin, he fell, 
 to the amusement of some of the ladies who 
 were passing at the moment, and the pity of the? 
 amiably disposed. Mrs. de Burgh said — " Poor 
 man ! I hope he is not hm't," and moved on. 
 Miss Savage, with quiet indifference, asked Agnes 
 if she did not think the night cold. Catherine 
 looked cmiously at him for a moment, and after- 
 wards showed me an excellent sketch of his atti- 
 tude, and Mrs. More alone stopped to help him 
 up, and heard his confession. 
 
 " That dreadful giddiness ! it is always getting 
 me into scrapes." 
 
 I w^as amonor the first to o^o to the drawiii^;- 
 room, wdiere I found Mrs. More and ]\Irs. de 
 Burgh conversing on plans for cottages for the 
 poor, which the latter lady proposed to ornament 
 with chrysanthemum plants and passion-flowers. 
 Miss Savage was rather absently watching Ca- 
 therine, who was sketching absurd figm-es with 
 a pen and ink on a sheet of paper ; amongst 
 which I saw Miss Savage's own many-peaked form, 
 unrecognised, however, by its original. Agnes 
 was looking over a book of etchings, or rather 
 she was gazing at one dreamily. It was a St. 
 Joseph and the infant Savioiu*, by Guercmo. 
 
 D 3
 
 58 CATIIAT. MORK. 
 
 "That is an odd, coarsely done print," said 
 Miss Savage. "Have you seen the new l^ook 
 of Beauty ? It only arrived on Friday, at Lord 
 Atherly's ; but we had time to look over it be- 
 fore we left." 
 
 It was a very disenchanting speech. The rest 
 of the gentlemen came in at the moment, which 
 prevented Miss Savage from attending to Miss 
 Hyde's reply. Catherine shut up her drawings 
 hastily. 
 
 " Do let me see them," said Mr. Parks, who 
 thought it a duty to look at what ladies were 
 doing ! 
 
 " I was only sketching some scenes, scarcely 
 worth remembering," she replied. 
 
 " You have a box of letters, I see," said Miss 
 Savage ; "do you ever give words to each 
 other ?" 
 
 " We have played so often with each other," 
 rr])lied Agnes, " that I think we have exhausted 
 our stock of difficult words — you will, however, 
 contribute some new ones." 
 
 "A game!" said Mr. Parks; "how do you 
 do it?" 
 
 There was a despairingness about his accent 
 which amused me. He seemed to live under a
 
 CATHAL MORE. 59 
 
 constant depression of spirit, and his eyes helped 
 the idea, for they were weak and tender. 
 
 " You had better try," said Major Wyndhain. 
 *' If you can spell a word, pick out the letters 
 which form it, and give them in a handful to 
 somebody else, that is all." 
 
 Mr. Parks began to do as he was told. 
 
 "Don't you see?" said Major Wyndham ; 
 "you publish the word you are thinking of, if 
 vou choose the letters in their consecutive order." 
 
 After a silence of some moments, Mr. Parks 
 exclaimed, still more dolefully than before — 
 
 " I can't do it. How can you expect a man 
 to spell backwards ?" 
 
 Cathal, who had joined us, did not quite like 
 to have a guest of his laughed at, so he asked for 
 some music. 
 
 " I don't know any sacred music," said Miss 
 Savage, " and, I suppose, nothing else is allow- 
 able on Sunday." 
 
 " You'll sing something?" said Cathal, looking 
 relieved, and turning to Miss Hyde. 
 
 " Yes, if Mrs. More wishes," was the quiet 
 answer. Consent was readily gained ; and in a 
 few moments her voice arose, softly and myste- 
 riously at first, but gradually increasing, until the 
 mellow sound filled the whole room with a biu-st
 
 GO CATUAL MORE. 
 
 of praise and joy, j^radually dying away, whili' tlic 
 acconii)aninicnt was licard, like the (piivering of 
 many wings in rapid flight. 
 
 "Thank you, my love," whispered Mrs. IMore, 
 bending over Agnes ; " you have made us re- 
 member that this is Christmas eve." 
 
 "Anything of Donizetti's?" asked Sir Ha- 
 milton ; " young ladies all rave about liis 
 nuisic." 
 
 "Were you in London last summer?" asked 
 Major Wyndham. " Gluck's Orfeo had quite 
 beaten the modern Italian school out of the 
 field." 
 
 " Of course, I was — Gluck — a German fellow, 
 is he not ? I saw him at Lord Hun don's ; he 
 has a w^hite moustache, I think." 
 
 Major Wyndham arched his eyebrows a little, 
 as he repUed — 
 
 " Really, a good ghost-story ! or, perhaps, you 
 are a clainoyant. Sir Hamilton." 
 
 "By the way," interrupted Cathal, anxious 
 to change the subject, " I begin to believe there 
 is something in mesmerism ; I have been half 
 persuaded by a Mr. Schelling, who has been 
 stayhig here, and is one of the cleverest men I 
 ever met." 
 
 " Rather a rarity in thi:? country," said Major
 
 CATHAL MOBS. 61 
 
 W}Tidham ; " one does not often meet people 
 one can talk to." 
 
 " Yet there is no lack of both clever and agree- 
 able conversation; where can the feult he?'' 
 quietly remarked Mrs. More. 
 
 He looked surprised, and for the rest of the 
 evening he was much more pleasing than before. 
 I heard a few words between him and Sir Ha- 
 iiiiltou Savage afterwards, which pleased me. Sir 
 Hamilton said — 
 
 * Sm*ely, my dear fellow, you won't stay long 
 here ; you will find it fearfully Irish. We go in 
 a day or two." 
 
 " I think I shall begin to enjoy myself very 
 much in a day or two," Major AVyndham rephed. 
 
 I confess I enjoyed the rebuff, and the imphed 
 praise of my friends at Cappagh.
 
 C2 CATHAL .MORE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The following morning was bright and sunny, 
 whitened by a severe frost, which had followed 
 the storm. I was glad to see its wholesome 
 face, for I have lived long enough to become a 
 lirra believer in the truth of the old saying — " A 
 green Christmas makes a full churchyard." How 
 true old sayings are ! How true what is handed 
 down through long ages always is ! Time de- 
 stroys what is false, but sets liis seal as a witness 
 to truth ; and it is from this beUef, and not from 
 prejudice, that I delight to read old books, aiul 
 trust them rather than new ones, in spite of the 
 " march of intellect," I hear so loudly trumpeted 
 on every side. 
 
 The More pew was filled to overflowing by 
 their guests. Mr. Hyde gave us an excellent 
 sermon, eloquent, yet plain ; and Major Wynd- 
 ham, as he listened, again arched his eyebrows 
 and looked astonished, and after church, I heard 
 him say to Cathal —
 
 CATHAL MORE. G3 
 
 " Is not that an Englishman who preached ?" 
 " No," he rcphed; " Mr. Hyde is Irish." 
 '' It is the first sermon I have heard, in Ire- 
 land, which had not some allusion to the errors 
 of Roman Catholics." 
 
 " Yet some of our clergy are liberal enough." 
 '' Don't say liberal, my dear Cathal," said 
 Mrs. More. " It is such a hackneyed, disgraced 
 word." 
 
 '' I have been to hear some of your popidar 
 preachers," continued Major Wyndham ; " and 
 I have been astonished at their prejudice and in- 
 temperate language. My mother ^vas a Roman 
 Catholic, and equal to, if not better, than any one 
 I ever knew, and it sounds strange to me to hear 
 professors of her creed so abused." 
 
 " I wish that such preachers were more con- 
 vinced of the truth that true Catholicism has no 
 party — it is universal." 
 
 " But they totally disclaim the title of Catho- 
 lic," replied Major Wyndham. "I heard a 
 clergyman say, from the pulpit, that * Anglo- 
 Catholics were but bad Protestants ;' and he de- 
 claimed against putting the cross on any build- 
 ing, or, indeed, allowing its use anywhere, be- 
 cause to do so, was a custom of the Roman 
 chiurch. Unfortunat'vlv, for the reverend gentle-
 
 C4 CATllAL MOKE. 
 
 man's wishes, every line intersecting anotlicr, pro- 
 duces a cross." 
 
 " Irreverend gentleman ! yon shonld rather 
 call him," intcrrnptcd Cathal, waiiiily, " so to 
 speak of the universal symbol ot" our iaith." 
 
 " He must be Catholic, at all events," said 
 Mrs. More, "and make allowance for the excite- 
 ment of party." 
 
 '' In a merely political })oint of view," said 
 Cathal, "it is ruin to a country to have it dis- 
 tracted by religious controversies. I think every 
 one who encourages, or even goes to hear violent 
 preachers on either side, is deeply injuring his 
 fatherland." 
 
 " Jkit then, 1 suppose, if your ' staunch Protes- 
 tant ' defenders slackened in their attack, theii* 
 opponents would reaj) ;ui easier victory." 
 
 "What of that?" exclaimed Mrs. More. 
 " If all Ireland became Pagan, in consequence 
 of our acting right, we nmst still persevere. I 
 think, however, more forbearance on the part of 
 the Anglican-Irish, would [)roduce a happier state 
 of things among us." 
 
 " I quite agree with you, mother," said Cathal ; 
 " toleration is truly the virtue most needed in this 
 age of many sects."
 
 CATIIAL MORE. G5 
 
 " Yes, but not at a sacrifice of our own prin- 
 ciples," she replied, gravely. 
 
 " I think toleration should influence us yet 
 farther," he replied ; " how can we bo certain wu 
 are right?" 
 
 " How can we live uncertain ?" his mother 
 replied. *' Life is given, that we may read and 
 learn, and be certain." 
 
 '' But," said Major Wyndham, "surely doubts 
 will ever exist. It seems to me, that we are 
 often certain on such intricate pomts, because we 
 are too lazy to examine them." 
 
 " I thhik it is generally that very indolence," 
 said Mrs. More, " which produces doubts. If 
 we use the powers we possess, in sincerity, we 
 shall probably come to some decision." 
 
 " And if a wrong one ?" said her son. 
 
 " That is scarce likely, if Ave have humility. 
 There are, on every side, beacons to lead to truth, 
 held up to us by the great thinkers before us. 
 There is, besides,'anotlier guide," she added reve- 
 rently. 
 
 We had reached the house as she spoke ; the 
 rest of the party stood on the door-steps await- 
 ing the decision of their hosts, as to how they 
 should emjjloy the afternoon.
 
 C6 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 "Any shooting to-day, More?" asked Sir 
 llainilton. 
 
 'Must as you ])lcasc ; but if it freezes as hard 
 to-night as now seems Hkely, it would be ahnost 
 a pity to disturb the covers before to-morrow." 
 
 "Have you good sliooting ?" asked Major 
 AVyndham. 
 
 It was curious liow much his manner had 
 changed. The day before, he would have " sup- 
 posed there was none." It was settled that the bh'ds 
 should enjoy a Christmas, and Ave all, even Mrs. 
 More, started for a walk. ]\Ir. Parks alone did 
 not join us, for I heard him complain to Mrs. 
 IVIore that he was suffering from his head, which 
 felt more than usually light that morning ! 
 
 We had not gone very far, however, on a pri- 
 vate road through the park, before we were startled 
 by the sound of a horse galloppiug violently behind 
 us — we (piickly arranged ourselves on either side, 
 to leave free passage for whatever it might be to 
 pass. A moment after, a large, bony, powerful 
 animal, which I Recognised as belonging to a horse- 
 breaker in the neighbourhood, came up to us 
 carrying a rider, who was already unseated, aiul 
 only held on by the mane. 
 
 It shyed, first to one side and thi'u to the other, 
 as it went past our two parties, and poor ^h.
 
 CATIIAL MORE. G7 
 
 Parks, for it was he, overcome by the double mo- 
 tion, came to the ground in a more safe, than dig- 
 nified attitude. 
 
 Cathal picked him up, and we all crowded round 
 to hear how the accident had occurred. 
 
 " Why, Parks, you don't often ride a strange 
 horse," said Major Wyndham. 
 
 " Nor did I intend to, but an Irish ruffian 
 made me." 
 
 "Made you," repeated Cathal, " how was 
 that ?" 
 
 "A dreadful man, with a blackened face, met 
 me, and insisted that I slioidd try the vicious 
 brute ; he said it was quiet, too. He persisted 
 in his story that I shoidd be ' killed intirely,' 
 if I went on walking, because I had this bearskin 
 overcoat on ; and he said that all that remained 
 for me was to mount his vile animal. What 
 could I do ? they certainly wanted my coat, and it 
 was a dark retired spot, fit for a robbery." 
 
 "You got on the horse, and it ran away, then?" 
 asked Major Wyndham. 
 
 " No, that was not all," said Mr. Parks ; " when 
 I was on it, the beast began to kick in a frightful 
 way. I asked the rascal to hold its head, that 1 
 might get oft*. ' Pay me half-a-guinea, and I 
 will,' he said, with a fiendish smile that convinced
 
 GS CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 iiu' of Ills cliaiactcr ; l)iit as I would not ])(.' im- 
 posed on, I ti'icd to juiiij) down. Evcrv time I 
 moved, liowever, tlie horse j)limii;ed. It's very 
 well for you to laiijj:li, Wyndliaiii," he said, sud- 
 denly breaking off in his story, "but I'd like to 
 have seen you in my })lace, and with a craeked 
 rein, too ; you know I can manage my chargers." 
 
 " I know the fellow," said Cathal, *' he is always 
 playhig some trick. I hope you did not pay the 
 money, however." 
 
 " I had not any about mc. I told the man so, 
 and then he gave a loud whistle ; 1 did not know 
 but that it was a signal for some companions, so, 
 as it was better to trust to luck than to White- 
 boys, I struck the horse, he ran awjiy, and you 
 saw the end." 
 
 " It was all a joke," said Cathal ; '' I am sure 
 the man did not really intend any harm." 
 
 " It is no joke to me, getting such a fall," nmt- 
 tercd Mr. Parks ; *' my mother told me to avoid 
 falls," he added disconsolately, in a low tone. 
 
 '* Come and walk with us," said Cathal, " and 
 you will be safe." 
 
 " 1 should ])refer returning, but 1 don't hke 
 meeting that fellow again." 
 
 '■ I will walk with you," said Cathal, good-na- 
 turedly, " and 1 w ill join you again, mother, at the
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 69 
 
 Moiiruc gate. Leave a little piece of wood on the 
 top bar, if you pass it before I am there." 
 
 " Parks is a good-natured fellow," said ]\Iajor 
 Wyndhani, when we had Avalked on, " but he is 
 thoroughly weak-headed, and he was spoilt by his 
 mother ; he is a great annoyance to me, for he 
 gives me the trouble of pitying him ; if he were 
 less of a fool, one would not care about his 
 troubles, he might shift for himself." 
 
 " Yet a wise man feels misfortunes more," 
 said I. 
 
 " Perhaps, but it is my feelings, not other 
 people's, I am thinking of; at any rate, pray don't 
 disarrange my ideas, it is such a bore putting 
 them in order again." 
 
 *' I no longer wonder at the doubts you spoke 
 of this morning," said Mrs. More. 
 
 " On the contrary," he said, " I avoid doubt, 
 by never thinking on debated questions." 
 
 " Yet some day perplexed thoughts will rush in 
 upon you, in spite of yom' present unthinking- 
 ness." 
 
 "Do, I entreat, let me enjoy it as long as I 
 may !" he replied. 
 
 '' Indeed you must not," she said, earnestly. 
 " It is most wrong to neglect so great a talent as 
 thought, the noblest gift we have."
 
 70 CATIIAl. MORK. 
 
 " Vou arc fi)r<j;(ttiii<]; goodiR'ss," 1 iiit(M*p()sc(l, 
 *' which you so higlily exalted the other day." 
 
 " Hill that is not a tah'nt," she rrphrd, " it is a 
 direct emanation from above. 4'liere may be 
 mncli or httlc of it in us, hut it is in us, not of 
 us, as our tah'uts arc." 
 
 *' It is beyond me, evidently," said .Major 
 \\'yndham. 
 
 "This kind of conversation would suit my friend, 
 Sehelling," said Cathal, who had rejoined us; " ])y 
 the bye, I have not yet heard, mother, youi* opinion 
 of him." 
 
 "He was very agreeable, and much cleverer 
 than most people," she replied, " but I coidd not 
 approve of his princi])les." 
 
 *• Oh you mean his Unitarianism," Cathal 
 answered (juiekly ; " but in (nery thing else, 
 surely you think with me, that he is very superior." 
 
 " In talent, perhaps ; what I chiefly disliked in 
 him was a certain second meaning, which seemed 
 to lurk behind all that he said." 
 
 " Why he rather boasts of that," said her son ; 
 " he often says, the strings by which we work our 
 schemes, must be hidden from the world, or thev 
 will not succeed." 
 
 " And what are his schemes ?" 
 
 " Those of which he has spoken to me are
 
 CATHAL MORE. 71 
 
 very good, mostly plans for the improvement of 
 the poor ; he is, besides, singularly devoted to 
 rehgion, and that is respectable in all." 
 
 " And do you, an Anglican Catholic, trust his 
 plans for good ?" 
 
 "Of course, not in theological matters ; still I do 
 not see but that he may be a good guide in 
 present alfairs." 
 
 " Can we thus separate present from future ?'* 
 asked Mrs. More. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," asked Major Wynd- 
 liam, who had been listening with interest, "that 
 there is so extremely intimate a connection be- 
 tween them ? In every-day occupations, our walk 
 at this moment, for instance, what is there of 
 the future ?" 
 
 " Even in our walk there may be worship, the 
 worship of thankfulness, which is, perhaps, the 
 most acceptable. ' Catholic' is truly a good name 
 for our religion, for in its universality it enters into 
 our most trifling acts." 
 
 " Mr. Schelling told me," said Cathal, " that he 
 had devoted his life to Rupert's advantage. I 
 think his care-worn look may be ascrib^^l to some 
 latent fear, that his son may desert the Unitarian 
 creed." 
 
 " He has then adopted a bad plan to retain
 
 72 CATHAT. MORE. 
 
 Iiiiii," said Mrs. More. " llal)it and prfjiidicc arc; 
 strong tics ; and, as lie has neglected tlieni, I 
 scarcely think liis son is of a character to I'ollow 
 in Ins father's stej)s." 
 
 " After all, 1 think it is only in appearance 
 that Mr. Schellinp; leaves his son to jndge for 
 liiniself. lie did not neglect early impressions, 
 l)ut he knew the tendency young men have to 
 cpiarrel with systems authoritatively laid down 
 for them." 
 
 "System," repeated ]\Irs. More, *'yes, you 
 have called Uuitarianism by its right name ; 
 but," she continued, " I did not like in your 
 friend the way he adapted every view, every new 
 thought to general expediency. No sooner did he 
 strike out an idea, than he began to consider how 
 it would dovetail into the world's ways ; and if 
 it happened to be inconsistent with them, he 
 dismissed it." 
 
 " Your ^notions seem to me too high," said 
 Major AV^yndham, '' and imattainable by common 
 folk. What is the use of ideas if they are not 
 intended for the service of the world ?" 
 
 ." Granting that to be an object," replied she, 
 "I cannot see how wc serve tht^ world by debasing 
 our better thoughts to its level ; avc injure by so 
 doing both ourselves and it, instead of, by 
 example, helping to raise its standard."
 
 CATHAL MORE. (6 
 
 "In that case," he replied, smilmg, "you go 
 into the clouds, and the world forgets you." 
 
 " Some individuals will probably look up and 
 follow you ; they will lead others, and so you may 
 originate much good. Even if you only encourage 
 one to rise above the earth-clouds, and seek for 
 truth, is there not something gained ?" 
 
 " You are a great advocate for ideal truth, and 
 rightly so," her son replied ; " yet consider how 
 usefully Schelling has advanced science. One 
 must at least admire his mechanical knowledge." 
 
 " A very valuable gift to the rest of the world," 
 said Mrs. More, " and yet I fear, as far as he 
 himself is concerned, it will not enable him to 
 build a bridge, or raise a ladder which will reach 
 to Heaven." 
 
 "Do you know," said Cathal, after some minutes' 
 silence, " Miss Savage will be very cross if we 
 do not talk to her, AVyndham." 
 
 " I detest young ladies, and never have any 
 thing to say to them," was his answer. 
 
 " I at least must go on, she is looking back." 
 
 " Go by all means," said Major Wyndham, at 
 the same time offering his hand to Mrs. More, 
 for the path was rough. 
 
 The interruption had diverted our thoughts, 
 and there was little more conversation between 
 
 VOL. I. £
 
 74 CATIIAL MORB. 
 
 US ; I may say between Mrs. More and Major 
 Wyndhani, for I prefer listening to sjx'aking. 
 
 The evening was passed as merrily as Christmas 
 time deserved. Major Wyndham exerted him- 
 self to ])lease, and perfectly succeeded, for he was 
 singularly clever in small things, and but that he 
 Avanted energy and enthusiasm to devote himself 
 ^o any one pursuit, he possessed all the materials 
 for success in the world. As it was, his talents 
 were squandered on the fancy of the moment. 
 
 However, as small attainments, and smatterings 
 of dift'erent branches of knowledge, often suc- 
 ceed best in general society, Major Wyndham 
 especially shone when he chose, and on this even- 
 ing, I think he did his best to make up for his 
 past indifference and scornfulness. 
 
 Sir Hamilton followed his example, though 
 his unbending was a very different affair, but 
 anmsing too in its way. 
 
 Miss Savage no longer refused an introduc- 
 tion to Mr. O'Neil who had arrived, Catherine 
 Hyde was well pleased to caricature and laugh 
 at Mr. Parks, and her sister and Catlial generally 
 enjoyed each other's society. As for the remain- 
 ing members of the circle, it was generally much 
 the same to them who they met and what they 
 did. '
 
 CATHAL MORE. 75 
 
 But even perfect pleasure will not keep one 
 awake all night, and towards one o'clock j\Ir. 
 Hyde yawned. 
 
 Mrs. de Burgh looked at him, and followed his 
 example — the yawns became general. 
 
 " Now is not that magnetism ?" exclaimed 
 Cathal ; " why did we all yawn together?'' 
 
 " Because we w^ere all tired," said Mr. Hyde ; 
 " reaching the same climax of fatigue together !" 
 
 '' My dear ]\Ir. More, pray do not talk of any 
 thing so horrible as magnetism," exclaimed Mrs. 
 de Bm-gh. " I was present at a mesmeric experi- 
 ment not long ago, and it ended so awfully, I 
 scarcely like to think of it." 
 
 Everybody was anxious tohear more of the story, 
 so Mrs. de Burgh continued, " I will tell it to you, 
 that you may be warned from trying experiments. 
 I was staying at Mr. de Burgh's brother's 
 
 place in the county ; two nieces of his were 
 
 of the party, the elder of them was an extremely 
 intelhgent, clever person, very well educated, 
 though she was but eighteen, but rather fond of 
 taking up singular theories, and a firm believer 
 in mesmerism. Her sister was a complete con- 
 trast ; if she were well-informed, she did not ap- 
 pear so ; she was reserved and grave in her 
 manner ; remarkably common-sensible, and quite 
 
 E 2
 
 76 CATIIM, MORE. 
 
 sci'ptical al)()iit phrriiolo'^ry and ;ill (hose sciences, 
 <'S|)ecinlly tliis imfortmiatc mesmerism. Indeed, 
 she never ti'oiihled lur head about tlieiii, exee{)t 
 to hui^di at them when they were mentioned. 
 W'liile 1 was staying there, an old friend of my 
 brother-in-law's arrived, who was an amateur 
 njesmerist. Of course, the merits of his hobby 
 were discussed; most of our party were un- 
 believers, and Mr. Stanton, for that was his name, 
 otiered to show us an example of his skill. 
 Miss Hudson, the elder sister, I have described 
 to you, was enthusiastically anxious to see some 
 one mesmerised ; she w'ould not, how^ever, be the 
 subject on wdiom the experiment was to be made, 
 because she wished to be an observer. Every one 
 was ecpially curious, and equjilly unwilling to be 
 operated on, so wt ran a risk of having nothing 
 done. At last, Miss Charlotte Hudson, the second 
 sister, said, as she had neither curiosity nor be- 
 lief, she would do very well for a subject. Mr. 
 Stanton placed her in tlu^ usual position, and 
 under his j)asses she soon became insensible. 
 Her nimt, in whose house she was stavinu:, fjrew 
 alarmed, and desired her to come to the fire where 
 %\\c was standing, but the young lady did not 
 \no\c. Mr. Stanton, the mesmerist, walked over 
 and told her to follow him; she immediately did 
 so, but in a verv rigid unnatural wav, and when
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 77 
 
 she reached the hearth, she said, shivering, ' It 
 is very cold, tell my aunt that the fire is out.' 
 It had been let out, uhile we were watching 
 her. Her aunt became seriously alarmed, and 
 begged Mr. Stanton to restore her to conscious- 
 ness. He employed the usual means, but inef- 
 fectually, and he had to place her in a strong 
 draught between the hall-door and a window , 
 before she at all recovered. At last, her senses 
 returned, though she remained still confused, so 
 much so, that her aunt, to try if she were herself 
 again, asked her to read some pages of a book, 
 which, however, she got through correctly enougli. 
 The next morning she breakfasted as usual, and 
 when we asked her if she recollected what had 
 been done to her the night before, she answered, 
 that she remembered nothing about being mes- 
 merised, or any thing of what had occurred." 
 
 '' There now," said Cathal, " who can doubt 
 the powers of magnetism?" 
 
 "No one, indeed," ansAvered j\Irs. de Burgh, 
 gravely, " for in three days after, tlie young lady 
 died from a brain affection, almost certainly 
 caused by this dreadful experiment, as her medical 
 attendant assured us." 
 
 We were all shocked and solenuiizcd by this 
 sad story, and shortly after, we broke up for the 
 night.
 
 73 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I iiKARD on the following Wednesday that most 
 
 of the strangers had left Capi)agh. So as Mrs. 
 
 More was alone, I walked up to see how she was, 
 
 for she had coniplauied of cold on the preceding 
 
 Sunday ; and also to ]\vnY how she had liked her 
 
 guests. It is always ])leasant to return to the 
 
 undisturbed enjoyment of our friends, after they 
 
 have been separated from us by an intervening 
 
 crowd of acquaintances, for I do not know any 
 
 season in which their absence is more felt. I 
 
 found j\lrs. i\Iore looking ill, with an expression 
 
 of disquiet on her countenance which I had never 
 
 seen before, even in the time of her trouble and 
 
 sorrow, after Ikt husband's death. She sat in 
 
 the drawing-room working busily, and I saw the 
 
 traces of tear-drops on the clothes for the poor, 
 
 she was cutting out. Her favourite spaniel, 
 
 Sheelah, seemed to sympathi/A' with her mistress* 
 
 sorrow, whatever it was, for she was lying close to 
 
 her, looking up wistfully in her face. 
 
 *' 1 fear vou have over-exerted yourself, mv
 
 CATHAL MORE. 79 
 
 dear madam," said I, after some moments of in- 
 different conversation ; " you do not look very 
 well." 
 
 " I do not feel very well," she answered, *' but 
 you cannot prescribe for me ; perhaps, however, 
 you will enable me to reconcile myself better to 
 what Cathal is about to do." 
 
 " Surely, your son can have given you no cause 
 for anxiety," I exclaimed. 
 
 " Cathal himself has not, but Mr. Schellinghas 
 infected him with his false theories of toleration. 
 From what my son told me this morning, I learn 
 that Mr. Schelling has asked him to permit, and 
 even to assist in having a Unitarian chapel built 
 here, and I fear Cathal is half-persuaded to con- 
 sent." 
 
 " But your son does not at all agree with ^Ir. 
 Schelling's creed." 
 
 *' No, he does not, and, doctor, I should almost 
 hope better for him if he did. It seems to mv 
 very wrong to believe in one faith, and encoiu'age 
 the contrary. I would rather he were earnest 
 even in mistaken religion, than indifferent to all." 
 " My dear madam, your sou is far from being 
 indifferent ; it is probably from principles of reli- 
 gion his toleration proceeds." 
 
 '' They are not the principles of the Christian 
 religion, then," she answered. '' We are to be to-
 
 so CATHAL MORE. 
 
 Iti-aiit to iiirii, i)ut uiH'i)ni|)r()nusingly opposed to 
 error itself; wo cannot support two oppositcs at 
 once." 
 
 " My daw niotlicr," interrupted Cathal, who 
 had come hi from his study unperccived, " I may 
 be opposed to error as much as you hke, but that 
 is no reason why I shouhl tie down others to my 
 standard, or insist on tlieir thinking a creed to be 
 erroneous, which I may beheve to be mistaken." 
 
 " But we must not affect neutrality on such a 
 subject," said his mother ; " it is our duty to 
 maintain truth, to advance it by every means in 
 our power ; we nnist not stand by, and see error 
 prevail, if we can })revent it." 
 
 " But truth, you say yourself, ever must prevail, 
 why then fear the attacks of error?" he said. 
 
 " Error cannot injure truth, but it may injure 
 US; we may be lost, while the divine essence pro- 
 ceeds in its eternal existence." 
 
 " You say, you said only the other day, men 
 believe for themselves, they are responsible for their 
 own belief ; why then not leave them to choose it 
 for themselves ? why not put before them the 
 various forms of religion, that they may select 
 what their conscience tells them is best ?" 
 
 "Simply, because our religion couimandsus not. 
 We are told that ' Charity ' is the first Christian 
 virtue ; is it agreeable to Charity to see oiu*
 
 CATHAL MORE. 81 
 
 brother led into error, and not try to preserve 
 him ? It is surely worse to aid and abet those who 
 seek to lead him astray." 
 
 '' But I do not believe that our form of religion 
 is the only true one ; and, when there are others 
 equally good, why should I intolerantly support 
 only my ow^n?" 
 
 " There may be many tolerable forms, though 
 I firmly believe that ours is the best, but there is 
 only one religion, ' one Lord,' ' one faith,' whereby 
 we may be saved. The Unitarians reject this 
 faith. Can we then be justified in exposing our 
 fellow-creatures to be led into such hopeless error 
 as theirs ?" 
 
 " But if it be such error, no one will fall into 
 it, especially when we have so good a rector to 
 guard our parish. I only say, let truth and false- 
 hood have a fair field, and no favour. Of coiu-se, 
 I should be very sorry to see truth beaten, or any 
 of our people become Unitarians ; still I do not 
 think it wrong or dangerous to comply, so far as 
 I am required, with Mr. Schclhng's wishes." 
 
 "When two opposing powers have ccpially 
 fair claims, that principle may be just, but cer- 
 tainly not, when both natural and revealed re- 
 liorion teach us that whatever is evil is to be 
 checked, and good encouraged." 
 
 E 3
 
 S2 CATHAT. ^rORK. 
 
 *' But, in fact, persecution always adds zeal 
 and vigour to a sect, and 1 think false doctrine 
 would often die a natural death, if it was cjuietly 
 let to run to seed." 
 
 ** That may be politic or expedient, but be- 
 fore policy or cx])ediency, or even our considera- 
 tion of what is right or wrong for others, should 
 come our own obligations. Now, my dear Ca- 
 thal, you cannot get over the fact, that it is con- 
 trary to our duty to assist a false religion." 
 
 " I think tolerance, and an acknowledgment 
 of the freedom of others in matters of faith, are 
 right." 
 
 " Ai*e we to deny our religion, to help others 
 in tluirs ?" 
 
 " Deny our religion ! my dear mother, why do 
 you say such things ? Wlio spoke of denying it ?" 
 
 ** Yes ! because it is a })rinciple in our religion 
 that we cannot hold it, and encourage another 
 faith opposed to it at the same time. To be 
 tolerant of falsehood, you nuist be intolerant of 
 truth, for one must always destroy the other ; 
 they cannot be co-existent." 
 
 " But you will not see that I do not wish to 
 encourage error — on the contrary, I detest Soci- 
 nianism, or whatever name you give it — but why 
 should 1 judge for others ? I do not assume or
 
 CATHAL MORE. 83 
 
 even wish to have any right or influence over 
 any one in such matters." 
 
 " You cannot help having influence ; the ex- 
 ample of every man influences those about him, 
 and we have been given this power that we may 
 use it rightly. Nothing given to us is intended 
 to remain in abeyance. Influence, especially, 
 cannot; moreover in its workings it knows no 
 neutrality. It must incline either to right or 
 wrong ; if the latter, consider your fearful re- 
 sponsibihty. It is impossible for any man to 
 divest himself of influence." 
 
 " I wish you coidd hear Schelling, my dear 
 mother ; he argues most convincingly on the side 
 of toleration. I will not attempt to repeat what 
 he said, because you are settled in your opinions 
 the other w^ay, and argument would not do any 
 good — at least, I will leave it to him to try ; how- 
 ever, I will shew you a kind letter I have just 
 received from him. One characteristic of his I 
 am sure you must admire as much as I do — he 
 is perfectly upright and sincere." 
 
 " Excellent qualities, for which, I confess, I 
 did not give him credit." 
 
 " Come, mother, you never do Schelling justice. 
 I like him better than almost any one I ever met, 
 and you have no notion how clever he is. Next
 
 84 CATHAL MORK. 
 
 time lie comes, lie iimst let you know liiiii better ; 
 \\lien he was here you only talked to that boy, 
 l{u|)ert." 
 
 •' I liked 'that buy, Rupert,' niueh better, there 
 was more truth in him than in his father." 
 
 " You still suspect Schelling's sincerity, I see, 
 but 1 cannot conceive how you found out Rupert 
 was truer than his father." 
 
 " I do not mean that either of them ever said 
 what was not true, but I think that the son, in 
 all his studies and thoughts, sought more for the 
 truth, which exists in all things ; he looked be- 
 hind the result for the originating cause ; his 
 father rather studied the practical uses of the 
 results." 
 
 " And is it not better to be of use to men, 
 than to spend one's days in idle dreams about 
 the nature of things ?" 
 
 *' There is a cant now-a-days about benefitting 
 mankind, which I do not at all admire ; we are 
 apt to forget that each man is born to look after 
 himself, and not after other people." 
 
 "And would you have selfishness govern the 
 world ?" 
 
 " Not selfishness, but self-love, which is often 
 oppposed to selfishness. Selfishness is, 1 think, 
 to our animal nature, what self-love is to that
 
 CATHAL MORE. 85 
 
 part of us which is immortal ; the one con- 
 siders the interest of the soul, the other grasps 
 at a momentary gratification of the body." 
 
 " But it is the interest of the soid to be virtuous; 
 it is virtuous to assist others, therefore, self-love 
 leads us to phdanthropy." 
 
 " And so it does, as long as philanthropy is a 
 virtue, but when the desire to be of use to others 
 jars with any duty of om- own, it ceases to be so." 
 
 " I do not understand you, mother. You say 
 one is to help others in one breath, and in the 
 next that it is wTong. How can benevolence be 
 
 w^ 
 
 rong 
 
 r 
 
 " I mean that it is right to do good to others 
 when it does good to ourselves, and wrong when 
 it injures ourselves." 
 
 *' But, do you know, notwithstanding what 
 you have said, that sounds very selfish ?" 
 
 " No ! because by ourselves, I mean our 
 whole selves, our future as well as our present 
 interests." 
 
 "And so you think we may overlook oiu* own 
 duties to ourselves from excessive philanthropy ?" 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Then you place our duty to ourselves, above 
 our duty to others." 
 
 '' Yes ; every gift, every faculty we possess, is
 
 80 CATIIAT, MORK. 
 
 given to us to liclj) oursdves, and oacli man's 
 occupation is solely to advance his real interests. 
 Our duty to otliers is contained in our duty to 
 ourselves, but it is secondary, though the two 
 always harmonize." 
 
 "Well I 1 think we differ more in words than 
 in sense," replied Cathal ; " however, I came in 
 to shew you Schelling's letter. Here it is. 1 
 must go back to Major AVyndham now. His 
 letters will be late for the post, unless I tell him 
 to make haste." 
 
 When she had finislied reading the letter, Mrs. 
 IVIore gave it to me. It touched on many interest- 
 ing subjects, well handled ; towards the end, there 
 was this passage — 
 
 " If, by this time, you have well considered 
 the arguments in favour of my pro])Osal, which I 
 laid before you in our last conversation, I am 
 sure you have, ere now, found them convincing. 
 Toleration is the marked virtue of our age, and 
 believe me, we shall, before long, see the fusion of 
 sects into one universal amity, which is predicted 
 by all far-seeing men. 
 
 " The process is going on, even now, and will 
 you not be a laboiu-er in the great work — a })ro- 
 moter of the universal charity, so consonant to 
 both natural and divine law ?
 
 CATHAL MORE. 87 
 
 "Agree to my request — I am sure you will, — 
 which you must allow is not unreasonable, that 
 you will sell me, or let on lease for ever, enough 
 of land from your park for the erection of a 
 chapel. I would not ask this of you, but that 
 there is such bigotry among the Enghsh and 
 Roman Catholic clergy in your vicinity, that they 
 will not allow their superstitious flocks to dispose 
 of land for the purpose, which I stupidly told them. 
 
 " You shall have the sum of money you require 
 at once — on this condition — I think you said 
 £20,000, as a mortgage over your whole property. 
 Four per cent will quite satisfy me, as I am really 
 anxious to serve you, and by this measure you will 
 much reduce your present yearly payments, leaving 
 over a good capital for your proposed improve- 
 ments. If you send over your title-deeds, map 
 of the estate, &c., and an abstract of the rental, 
 soon, you may rely on it, I will urge my solicitor 
 to give no delay, as you are, I know, anxious to 
 begin draining as early as possible in the spring." 
 
 *' You see, Cathal has not yet given his con- 
 sent," said I. "I agree with you, he will be 
 mistaken if he does, but I inn sure he will sec 
 the justice of what you have said." 
 
 "I fear not!" she answered; "Cathal is a 
 purely Irish cluu-acter, and it is a singidar feature
 
 88 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 in most of us, tliat wo always esteem tlie advice 
 and opinions of strangers, more tlian even the 
 soundest counsels, if they come U'o\n uuv own 
 immediate circle." 
 
 ** But, in this case," 1 said, " the right seems 
 very clearly on your side of the argument. How 
 is it Cathal is at all inclined to allow this bargain ? 
 I cannot understand why Mr. Schelling should 
 have fixed on this locality, or why your son 
 should abet him." 
 
 " There is some mystery in it, that I cannot 
 understand," replied Mrs. More. '' It is strange 
 that a comparative stranger should act in this way. 
 I have always distrusted Mr. Schelling ; but 
 Cathal imagines him to be high-principled and 
 upright. Besides, his personal inliuence, too : 
 you see he has offered my son what he has so 
 long tried to get— £20,000 at low interest." 
 
 " But one cannot imagine he would allow such 
 a motive as that to influence him." 
 
 "I do not know, doctor ; he might not allow 
 it, and yet it would perhaps influence him in 
 S])ite of himself. I am sure Cathal really believes 
 that there is a great deal of truth on Mr. Schel- 
 ling's side ; he probably argues to himself that 
 there is some virtue and right in what he is asked 
 to do — and nothing positively wrong ; if he con-
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 80 
 
 sents, lie will be able to obtain this £20,000, 
 which he intends to make the means of doing 
 good among his tenants. One cannot wonder 
 very nuich at his yielding." 
 
 *' The safest rule," I said, " is always, I think, 
 when two lines of action present themselves, 
 which appear equally fair, to follow that whicli 
 leads farthest from our own personal wishes, for 
 they cast a mist over our duty which we seldom 
 see through." 
 
 " Yes ! and so self-denial forms a part of self- 
 love, though we are accustomed to consider them 
 opposed." 
 
 " Because," I said, " people judge by their 
 every-day selves, their mere superficial being. 
 But self-love is a bad rule for conduct, because it 
 is a law, which often, through our human in- 
 firmities, we cannot decipher. I mean, few people 
 will believe, or clearly see, that to do right is 
 invariably for their real interests." 
 
 " No, — and it is not ordained to be tlic only 
 spring of our actions." 
 
 " I think I understand you," I answered ; '* all 
 good actions are agreeable to self-love, but nnist 
 not proceed from it." 
 
 " Yes, for we owe a higher duty to our Creator 
 and emplo} er, than we do to ourselves or our
 
 90 
 
 CATIIAl. MORK. 
 
 fcllow-nicn. IIo, ^vith the harmony wliicli is 
 found in all his provisions, has arran j^cd that 
 these duties are contained one within the other ; 
 but the fact that his w ill is above all other consi- 
 derations, yet exists, and the perfornuvnce of this 
 should be the object j)erpetually before us. In 
 obedience is contaimd the satisfaction of self-love 
 and charity." 
 
 ** We are so accustomed to men's laws not ex- 
 actly fitting into one another," I replied, " that 
 we find it difficult to understand this threefold 
 harmony of neighbourly charity, self-love, and 
 religion, a trinity iu unity of duties." 
 
 " You mean, then, that our obedience to the 
 will of our Creator should be the cause of our 
 eflbrts to do right." 
 
 " Yes ! and we may perceive that it is accord- 
 ing to the nature of things that it should be so ; 
 for, if we act solely from motives of neighbourly 
 charity, we soon find we have sacrificed superior 
 duties ; if we alone work from self-love for the 
 attainment of even lu^avenly rewards, we become 
 but spiritualized egotists ; but we cannot give 
 ourselves up too much — sacrifice too much, in 
 the performance^ of the will of (Jod, because that 
 is the sole legitimate end which he has ordained
 
 CATHAL MORE. 91 
 
 for our labours. In that duty alone consists 
 the perfection to which all that is good in us 
 tends." 
 
 "These things are hard to understand, still 
 more hard to define," I answered, " and they 
 seem almost unnecessary questions — for of what 
 practical use are they ? If we set the law of 
 the ten commandments before a man, and tell 
 him simply, that it is his duty to obey them, he 
 will be more likely to go right than if we confuse 
 him wdth first principles." 
 
 " No ! I do not think he will ; bhnd obedience if 
 shaken — and in these times it is sure to be shaken — 
 leads to scepticism, than which state nothing could 
 be worse. Let men know^ and study the great 
 principles on which good actions are founded. 
 Set before them the whole of the Law% natural, 
 reasonable, and divine, and they will see its beauty 
 and its harmony ; and gain a firm standing ground, 
 on which may be built up all the lesser virtues of 
 daily life. It seems to me immense mischief is 
 done by neglecting to teach men from their own 
 nature ; they are taught from without, and nut 
 from within, generally speaking." 
 
 " You mean that what is ronnnonly called re- 
 vealed religion is made the sole rule of life." 
 
 " I do not think it is intended so to be ; we
 
 92 CATIIAI, MOllR. 
 
 should not in our rule of conduct disrcprard tlic 
 laws of nature and reason ; hut rather, 1 think, 
 they should be shown to be the elements of 
 supernatural law. When it is enforced and 
 tauj^ht without this fouiulation being laid in men's 
 minds, the whole su])erstructure of religion is ni- 
 secure." 
 
 " Still, my (K'ar madam," I remarked, " one 
 must not undervalue faith ; for the whole Chris- 
 tian scheme is a mystery, requiring an exalted 
 faith." 
 
 " Undervalue ! I would rather exalt it to the 
 higliest, for it is that ])art of our uj)ward road 
 which arrives at our Creator ; but to travel by it 
 safely, we must first have followed the ways 
 of reason ; making a short cut to heaven by 
 avoiding them, reminds me of Ignorance, in the 
 * Pilgrim's Progress,' who arrived near the celestial 
 city, and yet failed to enter in, because he had not 
 travelled on the tirst part of the way." 
 
 " But to carry on the metaphor, reason and faith 
 sometimes seem to lead dillerent ways." 
 
 " They may seem, but it is because we look 
 wrongly upon them. True reason, and true faith ^ 
 must always agree. We nnist remend)er that 
 there is no discord among any true princi])les ; all 
 the voices of truth joiu in harmony. If there
 
 CATHAL MOKE. 03 
 
 seem disagreement it is our own faults, and we 
 must try to bring ourselves right, and not in our 
 presumption suppose that God's ai)pointments 
 contradict each other." 
 
 ''It is hard to imagine this perfectness and 
 harmony," said I, '' for we are so used to imper- 
 fection and discord." 
 
 " Yes ! hut in these matters one must look be- 
 yond the sphere of mankind ; if we do, we shall 
 see that all that is without us, all the j)rinci[)les of 
 life are ' very good,' and it should be the ob- 
 ject of life to understand their excellence, and act 
 in accordance with them." 
 
 " And yet," said I, nuisingly, "reason must ever 
 bean insufficient judge of religion. It cannot make 
 us understand the attributes of God ; the means 
 he uses ; all the mysteries of Christianity." 
 
 " No, but in these matters reason is especially 
 needed to instruct us of its own incapacity, to 
 teach us the necessity of faith. Reason points 
 out to us the duty of a religion ; faith shows us 
 the nature of that religion." 
 
 " Still, though reason may lead to right results, 
 faith is liable to every variety of error, because 
 we have no rule within ourselves to try it by." 
 
 "There again reason comes in ; froui internal 
 evidence, and many reasonable pnjofs, wc arc
 
 1)4 CATIIAL MOllK. 
 
 convinced of the anthority of Scri|)ture, which is 
 our supcrnutural hiw, or rule of faith. In the 
 objections made by one party against reason, 
 and by the other a^^ainst faith, they seem to forget 
 that every rule and ])rinciple, natural and super- 
 natural, are but })arts of the whole system ; we 
 cannot take an isolated principle, and say this is 
 the true one. The truth is like light, perfect and 
 indivisible ; we are prisms, many sided, and we 
 break the light into different parts, and every one 
 chooses a favourite part or colonr — and each man 
 says, 'This is my colour, this is light, this is truth.' 
 It may l)e part of light, ])art of truth, but it is 
 very dilierent from the whole light, and from the 
 whole truth. Join the colours together again, 
 unite reason and religion, natural and supernatural 
 laws, and we may obtain truth, we may see the 
 real pure light again, and ' walk in it.' " 
 
 I did not reply, for at the moment Major 
 Wyndham and Cathal joined us, having finished 
 their dispatches for the post.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mrs. More, after luncheon, proposed a walk 
 down to the Rectory, and as the gentlemen had no 
 particular occupation for that day, they willingly 
 joined her. Mr. Parks, I heard, had gone back to 
 his quarters, but Major AVyndham had remained 
 a few more days at Cappagh. He had dismissed 
 his sneering manner, and Mrs. More seemed to 
 like him well enough now. It was she, I think, 
 who had effected the change in him, and we 
 always like our own converts. He showed him- 
 self well informed and agreeable in conversation, 
 but a severe censor of the many follies and 
 faults that abound in society. Contempt was 
 his general feeling when speaking of others ; but 
 notwithstanding this great fault, he possessed 
 many counterbalancing good quahties. He had 
 a refined mind, and it was an excessive though 
 mistaken love for what is beautiful and good, 
 which caused his scorn of those people in whom 
 either quality did not appear. He loved refine- 
 ment, but he valued more its form than its reality ;
 
 96 CATIIAL MOUR. 
 
 hi) liked tiic boaiity which he coiikl Sv'c, and feci, 
 and touch ; all he cared lor at that time was the 
 good taste which regulates our exterior conduct ; 
 the hidden beauty, the hidden good, he did not 
 look for. 
 
 Mrs. More possessed both exterior and in- 
 terior refinement ; he was attracted by the first, 
 and he was beginning to appreciate her whole 
 character. It seems to me, a great hindrance 
 to the perception of true beauty, is an encourage- 
 ment of the spirit of ridicule. Satire and con- 
 tem])t are earth-born ; they are like evil flies 
 which are born of decay, and feed on decay ; 
 thev have their origin and their end in the cor- 
 ruption of the world, and they will disappear 
 for ^vant of food when we attain to a perfect 
 state. Some men spend their lives, give all their 
 faculties to satire — they may be useful, as the dogs 
 of Constantinople are, in clearing away garbage, 
 and all the pursuits of men are turned to the 
 general good by Providence — but it is Avell to 
 avoid their scavenger - w ork. Contempt and 
 ridicule will die with earth, unless indeed they 
 be heightened into scorn, luul become worthy of 
 companionship with Satan. 
 
 Major Wyndluuu had been one of these con- 
 temners, and in despising the superficial errors
 
 CATHAL MORE. 97 
 
 and faults of men, he had looked only to what is 
 superficial, either goodness, or badness, in them. 
 In truth, we must only see the outside of things, 
 if we laugh at our fellows. An insight into the 
 depths of their natiu-e will fill us with joy and 
 sorrow incompatible with ridicule. As Words- 
 worth says — 
 
 " He who feels contempt 
 For any living thing, hath faculties 
 Which he has never used." 
 
 Mrs. More had roused these faculties in Major 
 Wyndham ; he did not now feel so inclined to 
 laugh at his companions, as before he knew her. 
 I perceived the beginning of this change on our 
 w^alk to the rectory ; for, though he sometimes told 
 us absurd traits, of which he had been a witness 
 in society, yet his conversation was not all 
 ridicule. 
 
 We found Mr. Hyde busily engaged in the 
 plot of ground before his house, which contained 
 his flower-garden. He was showing a farmer from 
 the mountain how to take honey from hives and 
 yet preserve the bees ; for our rector was a great 
 bee-master, and his success had encouraged 
 many in oiu* neighbourhood to follow his ex- 
 ample. We stood and watched the operation of 
 stupifying them with fungus smoke, until they 
 
 VOL. I. V
 
 OS CATIIAL MOIU:. 
 
 hv^nn to revive and take to tlie new hive ; and 
 we were j)resently found by the Miss llydes, 
 who had seen our party from their drawing-room 
 window. Iksides the rector's daughters, there 
 was another young lady ; and, as visitors were not 
 frequent at tlie rectory, I took the earhest oppor- 
 tunity of asking Catherine who she was. I had 
 not seen her before. She was a Miss Peter, I 
 heard ; her mother had been an acquaintance of 
 Mr. Hyde's, many years ago, m Enghmd, and 
 she and her daughter w^ere both staying at the 
 rectory for a few days. 
 
 " Mrs. Peter," said Catherine, "is the daughter 
 of a clergyman with whom j)a])a read before his 
 ordination ; but he had never met her since, so 
 you may fancy how astonished he was, wdien she 
 introduced herself and her daughter, the other 
 (hiy. She had established herself for a short 
 time, she said, at the inn, which you know is not 
 very comfortable, so ])apa felt called upon to ask 
 her, for the sake of okl times." 
 
 Miss Peter, *' Barby," as her mother called 
 her, was certainly not a prize specimen of Avoman- 
 kind, though decidedly pretty. She was very 
 tall, and bent herself in a manner that quite 
 puzzled my theories of anatomy. To this day, I 
 am inclined to think she was a phenomenon, and
 
 CATHAL MORE. 99 
 
 had neither ribs, nor back-bone. Pier conversa- 
 tion was mainly composed of bows ; there was 
 the " Yes" bow, and the " No" bow, the sweetly- 
 appeaUng bow, and the gently disapproving bow. 
 When Major Wyndham, or Cathal, approached 
 her, she went into a flutter of bows ; and, if no one 
 addressed her, her head hung pensively at an angle 
 which I should, from my experience of dissected 
 necks, have only supposed compatible with 
 hanging. If she had been my daughter, I would 
 certainly have bandaged her up in splints. 
 
 HoAv often do we see contrasts between pa- 
 rents and children ! Mrs. Peter was as stiff" as her 
 daughter was pliable ; her head revolved, I think, 
 on an average, about once a day on its axis. Not- 
 withstanding her daughter's diversity of manner, 
 however, she seemed quite lost in admiration of 
 all her motions, and spent hours in recapitulating 
 the merits of " My Barby," to every stray bachelor. 
 
 The three young ladies joined us, as I have 
 said, at the bee-house. Miss Peter swaying to 
 and fro strangely as she walked. It took some 
 minutes to get through the storm of l^ows 
 which followed her introduction. She was a 
 pretty young lady ; and no matter who, or what 
 they are, pretty young ladies excite at first a 
 pleasant sensation. And it was, I suppose, in
 
 100 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 consideration of her fair long flaxen hair and 
 sj)arkUng swanshot — they were not hu'ge enough 
 to be called bullet-eyes — that Cathal drew 
 his mother aside, and said, " Ask her to dine at 
 Cappagh." When we went into the house, Mrs. 
 Peter, who had chosen the stitfest backed chair 
 in the room to sit in, was introduced to Mrs. 
 More in due form, and the whole party were in- 
 vited for that evening. 
 
 Mrs. Peter was flattered, gratified, and honoured 
 at the distinction Mrs. More had conferred on her 
 unworthy self. She was sure her " Barby" was 
 charmed ; and " Barby" bowed, and fluttered at 
 every word. 
 
 *' Are those samples of English or Irish 
 growth ?" asked Major Wyndham, when our visit 
 was over. 
 
 " I have heard of Mrs. Peter," answered Mrs. 
 More; "she is English, but she married an Irish for- 
 tune-hunter, \vho(lied,leavingher and herdaughter 
 very poor. She had to live for a year or two on 
 the subscriptions of her friends, but she is much 
 better oft' now ; however, she and her daughter 
 seem to have caught a chronic humility since that 
 time." 
 
 " Take care of yourself, Wyndham," ex- 
 claimed Cathal. '' Those kind of people are the
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 101 
 
 most dangerous going, to us solitaires. Wlicji 
 mothers have known what poverty is, they work 
 heaven and earth to make good matches for their 
 daughters." 
 
 " Tu quoque More, officers are always safe ; 
 but here is your visible estate for Peterkin to set." 
 
 " Just Hke you, young gentlemen," said Mrs. 
 More ; " how do you know but that ^Irs. Petir 
 looks with equal fear on you ?" 
 
 " Now, my dear Mrs. More," answered ]\Iajor 
 Wyndham, '' do you carry your charity so far as 
 to disbelieve in maternal scheming ?" 
 
 " I do not remember ever having indulged any 
 plans myself." 
 
 " You are not a fair judge of her," he ex- 
 claimed; "what is there in common betw^een you 
 and Mrs. Peter?" 
 
 " A great deal, I dare say, and very likely she 
 has the better part ; you judge too much by the 
 exterior." 
 
 " By your rule, if things signify most, which 
 are most lasting, manner is of great consequence. 
 Do not you think there will be the perfection ot 
 good manners in a future state ?" 
 
 " Yes ! I am sure there will — but formed alter 
 a very different standard to yours in London."
 
 102 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 ** Then you define refinement, in some out-of- 
 the-way manner/' 
 
 ** Perliaps you would think it very out-of-the- 
 way. 1 tliink manner is entirely dependent on re- 
 finement of mind, and by that I understand to 
 mean our assimilation to a state of perfection. " 
 
 *' But I do not understand what refinement 
 in this world lias^ to do with perfection in the 
 next." 
 
 " You put too wide a gulf between this world 
 and the next. Remember, our state here is 
 joined to our future state. Did you ever watch 
 at dawn the light on one side and the darkness 
 on the other, how they merge into one an- 
 other ? so, I believe, we shall get by im])erce])- 
 tible degrees from our darkness at our birth, 
 into the pure light of future excellence. Death 
 is but the last shade of night passing away — ■ 
 the last brush from her heavy wings — refine- 
 ment is a ray of the future light." 
 
 " But, though T admire refinement of maimer, 
 I do not exactlv see what there is so exalted 
 m it." 
 
 " You would not admin^ i( if there were not — 
 but take, now, Mrs. Peter's manner, whieh has 
 ott'ended you so much. All that flattery proceeds 
 from her over-estimation of worldly position and
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 103 
 
 advantages, discontent at her present station, 
 and an unscrupulous desire to get into a higher 
 one, which makes her fawn on every one who she 
 thinks can assist her." 
 
 " AVell, you may account for cringing snobbisni 
 in that way, but then, there is the purse-proud, 
 overweening snob." 
 
 " His ill manners come from a most evil pride, 
 and a want of charity and due consideration for 
 others." 
 
 " Then, again, there are men whose rank and 
 wealth make them gentlemen, but their want of 
 refinement exhales in coarse sentiments — in fifty 
 little traits — which one sees in even the best 
 society every day." 
 
 " You will find that such traits are contrary 
 to refinement, just because they are contrary to 
 perfection." 
 
 "It is singular, I confess, how this perfection - 
 ing principle enters into everything — still, what- 
 ever be the origin of these people's vulgarity, it 
 will be an amusing study to-night. They will 
 be good foil for your beautiful god-daughters." 
 
 " Wliich of the Ilydes do you admire the 
 most?" asked Mrs. More. 
 
 " Let me see — ]\Iiss Hyde's is the most perfect 
 beauty, but I like her sister's style the best. 
 What do you say, More ?"
 
 104 CATRAT- MORE. 
 
 Cathal had been talking to a woodman during 
 the last few minutes. " AVlicn I am in a very 
 good state of mind I like Agnes, so 1 suppose 
 she is really my favourite," he re})licd. 
 
 " Yes ! but one has to look up to her so very 
 much, it gives me a moral crick in the neck." 
 
 " I must say, I think women should be as ex- 
 cellent as may be," answered Cathal, " and in 
 my experience I have noticed that the better a 
 woman is, the more obedient she is to authority." 
 
 " So you think Agnes would be obedient to 
 you ?" asked Mrs. More, smiling. 
 
 " No, not to me," he answered, rather gravely ; 
 " I am not good enough to be an authority for 
 her." 
 
 *' But is obedience always right if a wife's duty 
 to herself clashes with her duty to her hus- 
 band?" said ^lajor Wyndham. 
 
 " Her duty to her husband is generally her 
 duty to herself — because, her obedience to him 
 is right, and to do right is the sunnnary of our 
 duty to ourselves." 
 
 " But suppose a man ordered his wife to com- 
 mit nuu'der ?'* 
 
 *' Of course, she must not go against positive 
 moral laws — but, in cases of doubtful right and 
 wrong, I think the wrong, if she commits it by
 
 CATHAL MOUE. 105 
 
 command of a husband, and from no personal mo- 
 tive, is abrogated by the virtue of her obedience." 
 
 " What a very serious consideration marriage 
 must be to a woman who has such principles," 
 observed Major Wyndham. 
 
 " Yes ! and what great responsibility the man 
 undertakes," said Cathal. 
 
 " Which is it easiest, to be obedient or to 
 govern well, do you think?" asked Major 
 Wyndham. 
 
 " For women to be submissive, and for men to 
 rule, because it is the law of nature," answered 
 Mrs. More ; '' but, after all, it is but a mortal 
 law. I think women will be equal to men in a 
 future state. I understand their inferiority here 
 to be a punishment for the hrst sin." 
 
 "You think of nothing but a future state," 
 exclaimed Major AVyndham. " It is very ne- 
 cessary sometimes to consider the present — is 
 it not?" 
 
 " Yes ! but always Avith reference to the future 
 — it is a moral childishness not to do so — for 
 women especially, and their lives here are an 
 almost constant reminder of it." 
 
 " Perhaps that is the reason," said Cathal, 
 " why we see women more religious, more be- 
 lieving, generally than men. They are in a 
 
 F 3
 
 106 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 maniK'r driven to aspirations for the future, and 
 coiitcniplations of coming lia])])iness, by their 
 weakness and state of subjection to men, to 
 uhom they are often morally superior, in their 
 present existence." 
 
 " Yes !" answered Mrs. More, " if women have, 
 as a class, more faith, it is probably because 
 they have ])een forced out of merely natural re- 
 ligion, by their internal sense that they are in an 
 unnatural condition ; for it is moral goodness 
 which constitutes the true superiority of men 
 ovtr their fellows. Women possess equal, some- 
 times superior moral goodness to men, and yet 
 they are always inferior in condition to them. 
 There is an injustice in this, which is only ex- 
 plained by revelation. No wonder women should 
 so fervently cling to it, and possess such a strong 
 faith in their Magna Cliarta— the Bible." 
 
 " That mingled equality and superiority which 
 exist hi the relations of men and Avomen, appear 
 to me a strong presumption of some future right- 
 ing of things," said Cathal ; " it shows that our 
 being has reference to some final condition be- 
 yond this earth." 
 
 *' Who would have thought that Mrs. and 
 Miss Peter would have led us from earth to 
 heaven," said Major Wyndham. " However, to
 
 CATHAL MORE. 107 
 
 come back again to firm footing — have the 
 Miss Hydes any mother?" 
 
 '' No ; their mother died when they were yet 
 young. She was a great friend of mine, very 
 like what Agnes is now." 
 
 "But I want to know%" said Major Wynd- 
 ham, " how, Hving in this country, they contrive 
 to be so charming. Really, they have as good 
 manners as any people." 
 
 " Partly, because they are very refined, accord- 
 ing to my principle of refinement," answered 
 Mrs. More, " and they have an English aunt, 
 who contributes what is needed of manner. They 
 pay her a visit once a year, in Staftbrdshire." 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Major Wyndham, *' 1 
 thought they must have been in England — but 
 wdio is their aunt ?" 
 
 " Lady Hunsdon, of Ilunsdon Grange," an- 
 swered Mrs. More. " But you must ask Cathal 
 about her, for he has seen her, and I have not." 
 
 ** I have been at her parties in London," said 
 Major Wyndham. ** She is rather fast — is she 
 not. More?" 
 
 "Rather too much so, to please mc," he re- 
 plied. " My first introduction to her was iii 
 the Highlands. I thought, for some time, I 
 must have misunderstood the name I had lieard,
 
 108 CATRAL MOKE. 
 
 fur she wore a (ileiigarry boiuiet, and carried a 
 rifle; and, during our day's shooting, she distin- 
 guished herself by doing the wildest, and most 
 (huigerous feats." 
 
 " Your neighbours do not seem to haveleamed 
 nmeh from her example — they are not in that 
 Hue, I am sure." 
 
 " They have my mother before them for eleven 
 months and their aunt for only one, so they 
 are not likely to be contaminated," answered 
 Cathal. 
 
 "Besides," added Mrs. More, ''the whole 
 stream of good Irish society sets against un- 
 feminineness. Whatever may be their taults, one 
 never, scarcely, hears of an Irish lady doing 
 masculine acts. I assure you, some English 
 women who have come to this country, have 
 (juite astonished us Irish." 
 
 " Did you hear," asked Cathal, '' of Lady 
 Louisa Chetwode ? She headed a large party 
 of her guests in a scramble across hedges and 
 ditches, dressed in a Jim Crow hat, a shootim?- 
 coat covered with pockets, a short petticoat, and 
 men's shoes, and worsted stockings completing 
 the costiune. The peasants were shocked." 
 
 " Perhaps it was a sensible dress," said Mrs.
 
 CATHAL MOKE. 109 
 
 More, apologetically; " she might have been going 
 to walk through a very rough country." 
 
 '' Sensible ! my dear mother, it is more incum- 
 bent on a woman to be feminine ; if such a dress 
 was necessary for her walk, she s-hould not have 
 taken such a walk." 
 
 " I agree with you," said Major Wyndham, 
 "it's quite a duty to be feminine, but it is one 
 unthought of now, by some ladies." 
 
 " Miss Savage is infected with the unfemininc 
 mania," said Cathal ; " she said the other day to 
 me, ' Young ladies do not go down now, unless 
 they can talk a httle slang.' " 
 
 "Bah!" said Major AVyndham, "what next? 
 But who is this Lady Louisa Chetwode ?" 
 
 "O'Neil told me," he answered, " that she was 
 a Miss Waldegrave, rather a nice girl, before she 
 got into Chetwode' s set." 
 
 " Waldegrave 1" repeated ]\Iajor Wyndham, 
 with a slight start ; " Is she come here ?" 
 
 " Do you know her ?" said Mrs. More. 
 
 " Yes ! very intimately," he answered ; *' 1 had 
 no idea she was married."
 
 110 CATIIAr. MORE. 
 
 Tlic tnitli was, as I afterwards heard, tliat Major 
 Wyndliaiu had admired her a «^ood (k'al when siie 
 first came out, but his ^^^ood taste had been some- 
 what shocked by the very marked advances her 
 mother made to him, not aUogether iinseconded, 
 lie fancied, by the young huly. lie went abroad in 
 (hsgust, and not hearing of lier marriage, he had 
 not recognised her identity with the Lady Louisa 
 Chetwode, of whom such strange stories were 
 circulated ; besides, she had acquired her ennoble- 
 ment by courtesy, since he knew^ her, on the suc- 
 cession of lier l)rothcr to his cousin's peerage. 
 
 " That's what 1 hke in Agnes Hyde," said 
 Cathal, after a moment's silence, " she is so above 
 all that." 
 
 " I am afraid she is above me, too," said Major 
 Wyndham. "Though a perfect woman might obey 
 the best, I, an erring man, would never feel I 
 had a right to connnand her." 
 
 " I do not think it is men's goodness or bad- 
 ness w'hicli gives them authority over their wives 
 — it belongs to the nature of things," remarked 
 Mrs. More ; " and, when they act disobediently 
 to this order, how absurd and painful the results 
 are!" 
 
 " You are one of those, I sec, w ho think that
 
 CATHAL MORE. Ill 
 
 doing wrong is repugnant to our nature ?" asked 
 Major Wyndham. 
 
 " Yes, always ; we ahvays involuntarily try to 
 gloss over our wrong before we commit it, from 
 that very reason," said Mrs. More. 
 
 " What would popular preachers say to such 
 an idea ?" 
 
 " Popular preachers, in their anxiety to make 
 God's mercy seem infinite, have blackened men's 
 nature. Now, men's nature is, after all, a 
 work of God's, still presenting divine outlines. 
 It is like a well in autumn, choked by rotten 
 leaves, and the scum of decay, but yet the clear 
 water bubbles up through it here and there, and 
 presently the rubbish will be gone, and the spring 
 will remain clear as crystal." 
 
 " It is a pious fraud to debase man unduly, that 
 they may elevate his Creator," saidCathal. 
 
 " Who that regards the great Beginning and 
 End, will think that He needs human contrivances 
 to exalt Him ?" said Mrs. More. 
 
 "Then you acknowledge that error creeps in, 
 even into the Anglican worship?" asked Cathal. 
 
 " When men add to it their own error ; ami 
 these pious frauds have spread much among the 
 more enthusiastic members of our church ; they 
 arc very dangerous, for they attack our unguarded
 
 112 CATIIAL MORI'. 
 
 side, and thry Irad, with |)('r]iaj)s iniiorcnt in- 
 tiMitions, to grievous results. It' we once leave the 
 side of tnith, we go, quick as thouglit can go, 
 astray." 
 
 "1 am really beginning to tliink like you," 
 said Major Wyndliani ; " one must keep perpetu- 
 ally looking beyond men, b(Tond the world, if one 
 Avould at all judge of the rules of actions." 
 
 " Yes, we can learn no more of them, bv the 
 experience this world aflbrds us, than we could 
 learn of the theory of steam engines, by watch- 
 ing the paddles of a ste.am -packet. We must 
 leave the passengers on deck, and go down into 
 the engine-room of truth, if we would rightly 
 understand them." 
 
 " Apropos of steamers," exclaimed Cathal. *' I 
 see by the papers, Schelling's new improvement 
 in printing by steam, is generally approved of. 
 1 le is certainly a very clever fellow; the most extra- 
 ordinary mixture I ever saw, tilled with Gi'rman 
 extravagancies, and yet a rationalist." 
 
 " I should say," answered Mrs. More, " credu- 
 lousncss was his character, and he follows it in 
 believing readily all the wonders man may p(T- 
 form ; but rationalism in his religion, and that 
 govtTus all his theories concerning the wonders 
 God may do."
 
 CATIIAL MOllE. 113 
 
 " He must be sincere," said Catlial, '' lie is so 
 devoted to his creed." 
 
 " I do not see how that follows," said Mrs. 
 More ; " but do you know why he is so ? Unita- 
 rians are generally an un proselytising sect." 
 
 " I fancy he is, and was, particularly in his 
 youth, a good deal stung by the antipathy and 
 disgust which some relations of his expressed for 
 his creed. Since then, he has devoted himself to 
 the propagation of what he believes to be the 
 truth." 
 
 "The cause in which he stniggles is little worthy 
 of so much energy," said Mrs. !More, gravely ; 
 " but now, as we are at the hall door, I must go 
 in, and tell the servants there will be guests to 
 dinner." 
 
 She left us ; the gentlemen went their way, 
 and I to visit a patient, which occupied me until 
 dinner-time.
 
 114 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIT. 
 
 Mrs. and Miss Peter, Mr. Hyde and liis 
 daughters, punctually arrived at precisely halt- 
 past seven. Some minutes before they actually 
 came into the room, while they were walking up 
 the long corridor, which led from the hall-door 
 to where we sat before dinner, we heard a rustling 
 and rattling, as if there were a high wind. 
 
 " A stormy night," remarked I, innocently, 
 thinking that a gust had entered by the hall- 
 door ; but I discovered my mistake, when Miss 
 Peter Avrithed up to Cathal. She was like a cloud 
 in chains, if my readers can comprehend what I 
 mean ; a cirrus of blue and white gauze, hung 
 with eveiy variety of noisy bracelet. She wore 
 the first of those extraordinary bunches of 
 charms, which many ladies now carry, that had 
 come to Caj)])agh. I counted five hearts appended 
 to different chains about her ; and, when 1 asked 
 rather bhmtly, in the course of the evening, if 
 there were any meaning attached to them, she 
 told me siniperingly — pointing to a little crack
 
 CATHAL MORE. 115 
 
 across each — that they were the emblems of her 
 dominions. 
 
 Mrs. Peter walked as stiffly as a ram-rod, and 
 as if she had no legs ; she looked as if she was 
 made of the celebrated yellow starch. A speci- 
 men of the severe school of art ; plenty of severity, 
 plenty of art. 
 
 " You are very punctual," said Mrs. More to 
 her, as the first dinner-bell rang. 
 
 " Madam, such is my invariable rule ; and on 
 such a festive occasion as this, you may be sure I 
 would not forego it." 
 
 " It is a good plan," said Catherine Hyde, '' to 
 put on the clock a few minutes, and then one is 
 siu-e to be in time." 
 
 " A moral falsehood! a dereliction from duty !" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Peter. 
 
 " Which I was guilty of to-day," quietly re- 
 marked Catherine, " for papa is always late." 
 
 " What a sumptuously splendid apartment !" 
 resumed Mrs. Peter, finding that her high school 
 of morality was not applauded ; " but its inha- 
 bitants are indeed worthy of such a palace." 
 
 As Cappagh house was plain and old-fashioned, 
 even good natured Mrs. More looked a little 
 disgusted. 
 
 The announcement of dinner, however, saved
 
 110 CATUAL MORE. 
 
 her from replying ; and, after many speeches from 
 Miss Peter, and protestations of undeserved honour, 
 by lier motlier, tliey were taken into the dining- 
 room by the two young men. The conversation 
 did not flag, for Miss Peter emulated her bracelets 
 in kee])ing up a perpetual rattle. She sat next to 
 jNlajor Wyndham and poured the rival noises into 
 liis ears ; he unmovedly eat his dinner, and occa- 
 sionally made a remark to Catherine Hyde, who 
 sat on the other side, at which she seemed much 
 amused. Surprised at his indifference, Miss 
 Peter tunKnl to me, and asked, in a whisper, if her 
 neighbour was deaf. 
 
 " No 1 but the conversation wns well supported 
 by ]\Iiss Peter," answered Major Wyndham, who 
 liad overheard the whisper. 
 
 " My Barby," interposed her mother, whose 
 eyes were never ofl" her daughter, " you fatigue 
 i\Iajor Wyndham, with yom' little innocent ])lea- 
 san tries." 
 
 *' I assure you," said Major Wyndham, ** I 
 am excessively fond of nuisic, and Miss Peter's 
 voice and bracelets join in complete harmony." 
 
 Her mother could not make him out, so she 
 let the subject drop ; and in a few minutes the 
 ladies were gone. 
 
 When we joined them again, Mrs. Peter was
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 117 
 
 discussing, with upturned eyes, some very sad 
 subject — at least, she looked solemnity itself. 
 
 " My dear Madam," I heard her say, as we 
 came in, " they are all like the Church of the 
 Lacedemonians, neither hot nor cold, the worst 
 of all states." 
 
 " The Spartans, I believe, were celebrated for 
 endm-ing cold," said IMajor Wyndham. 
 
 ]\Irs. Peter looked round, savagely ; but seeing 
 who had spoken, the wrinkles on her face were in 
 a moment dispersed. 
 
 " How can you pretend to know anything about 
 it ?" cried Miss Peter, with naivete, as she came 
 with a dancing step from the piano, to where we 
 were standing. 
 
 " Pray continue your music ; do not let me dis- 
 turb you," said Major Wyndham. 
 
 " How rude he is !" said the young lady in an 
 audible whisper, addressing her mother. 
 
 " Will you not give us some music ?'* asked 
 Cathal, civilly, coming to the rescue at an implor- 
 ing look from Agnes. 
 
 '' Oh ! I really do not sing, do I, dear ?" said 
 Miss Peter, turning to Catherine. 
 
 " I am a bad judge," she answered, " but pray 
 try ' Les yeux noirs d'une ^/o;/c/^/ which you sang 
 last night.''
 
 118 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 *' Oil, wy son^. Now, Mrs. More, this was 
 written for mc ;" and she sat down and sang one 
 of those triUing IVench chartsonettes — turning 
 her eyes about to suit the description of their 
 various powers, which the verses of the song con- 
 tained. ]\lajor Wyndhani took up the bracelet 
 which had been left on the piano, and opened a 
 miniature knapsack which was one of the appen- 
 dant charms ; it contained another small gold 
 heart. 
 
 *' Do not look at my little possession,'* ex- 
 claimed its owner, ** it is a sweet souvenir of the 
 gallant and the brave," she murmured with a sigh. 
 
 Miss Hyde had a cough, and coukl not sing, 
 so we commenced some small plays. 
 
 " Do let us try consequences," exclaimed IMiss 
 Peter, who foresaw great opportimities for flirt- 
 ing, in the coupling of gentlemen's and ladies' 
 names, which is part of the game. We all 
 agreed. 
 
 ** I really do not like to write your nnnie, it's 
 so very ngly," said Major Wyndhani, coolly. ** I 
 think I will put down A^^•n(lhanl, instead of 
 Peter." 
 
 " Oh, that would be wrong, but it would be 
 very nice," she replied, not unconsciously. 
 
 " Do you not think it is nearly time to go.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 119 
 
 Papa?" said Agnes Hyde, almost impatiently, to 
 her father. 
 
 " Oh no ! do not dream of going yet," ex- 
 claimed Cathal. 
 
 " I am afraid you are dreaming," said Major 
 Wyndliam to Catherine, who looked dispirited, 
 a very different mood from her general one. 
 
 " It makes me micomfortable," she replied in 
 a low voice, "to see one's fellow-creatures so 
 painfidly absurd." 
 
 " Do you not always, then, like laughing at 
 people ?" asked Major Wyndham, in the same 
 subdued voice. 
 
 " I am not sure that I ever really liked it, but 
 it is sometimes irresistible," she answered. 
 " I thought you were never in earnest." 
 She replied by Longfellow's line, '* Life is 
 real, life is earnest." 
 
 " It is,'* said Major Wyndham, thoughtfully, 
 and then half to himself, " these arc strange 
 people; but," he continued addressing Cathe- 
 rine, " I thought you, at least, were a link with 
 the world. Do you, too, partake of Mrs. More's 
 idealism ?" 
 
 " Everything about her is real, and not ideal," 
 said Catherine, earnestly, " and Agnes is like
 
 120 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 her ; as for iiic, I am a long way behind them — 
 but I hope to follow in their steps.'* 
 
 "Really, dear, you are (piite engrossing tlu; 
 Major/* interrupted Miss Peter's harsh thin 
 voice. " We are going now." 
 
 When their carriage wheels had ceased to 
 sound, we began the discussion which invariably 
 is held over departed guests. ]\Iajor Wyndhani, 
 however, seemed silent and dreamy, and the 
 evening was quickly brought to a close. 
 
 A few days after, as I was returning from 
 attending a branch dispensary, I called for a 
 moment at the rectory. Major Wyndhara was 
 sitting by Catherine's side, cutting pencils for 
 her as she drew. Miss Peter, to my surprise, as I 
 knew Mrs. Hyde did not expect her mother to 
 stay, was in the drawing-room busily crocheting 
 a purse. Mrs. Peter, as usual, sat bolt upright 
 in an uncomfortable cane-chair, holding in her 
 hand a book of sermons, but instead of reading, 
 she watched intently with her leaden eyes, every 
 movement of the young people. 
 
 " Where is Cathal?" I asked, rather w^onder- 
 ing how his friend came to be there without him. 
 
 " 1 left him going to write some tremendously 
 long letter to his friend Mr. Schelling ; his 
 mother and he were holding a council over it,
 
 CATnAL MOKE. 121 
 
 SO I came away." None of them seemed to want 
 my society much, and I went in search of my 
 friend, Hyde ; he was in his study, looking over a 
 modern book of the Lockite school. 
 
 "Come out and have a walk," said I. "You 
 do not take exercise enough ; and reading books 
 like that, overstrain the brain." 
 
 " Cause confusion in it, if you like," replied he, 
 smiling ; " for its theories lead to a disagreement 
 between experience and rehgion, and the reader 
 does not know which to adopt as his guide in 
 life." 
 
 "How so?" I asked. 
 
 " Why, the writer rests our knowledge of every 
 fact upon sensation. By this, he at once places 
 a barrier against revelation, which never can rest 
 upon experience, because by the nature of it, it 
 is a miracle." 
 
 " Those trimmers between rationalism and 
 Christianity, I believe, intend oiu- faith to be 
 entirely independent of reason." 
 
 " Exactly, but a faith like that is always ready 
 to fail ; and so the disciples of Locke, an ho wire 
 not such firm believers as himself, have mostly 
 degenerated into mere Deists." 
 
 " But still, it is a [)l!Uisil)le theory riu)nu;Ii/' 
 said I, " that all our knowledge is ae(|uired from 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 ^vitllout, because ctTtiiinly it is evident that most 
 of it is, and you cannot easily prove a single idea 
 to be born with us/' 
 
 " 1 think we can ; but even granting wc can- 
 not, the weight of proof lies with the Lockists, 
 for the analogy of nature is with us." 
 
 " Why ? Can you prove annuals to have ori- 
 ginal ideas ?" 
 
 " What is instinct but an innate idea ? why 
 M ill a bird, without ever seeing other birds do 
 the same — sit and hatch its young ? why does 
 salmon-fry, the moment it is vivified, begin its 
 journey to the sea? Those instincts are born 
 with them, and I believe man has instincts, or 
 innate ideas, as they are called, as wtII as in- 
 ferior animals. Some truths we feel to be 
 antecedent to experience, and to govern our 
 reception of it, though finally it will confirm 
 them." 
 
 " But you do not mean to say that all ideas 
 are born with us ?" 
 
 " No 1 but I think we have innate ideas of 
 {abstractions, of abstract virtue, for instance, which 
 idea we are accustomed to cidl the rule of con- 
 science ; of abstract justice, which we know as 
 the spirit of fair play, and so on. All that we 
 perceive about man, his inventions and discoveries,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 123 
 
 and about this visible earth, I grant you we learn 
 by experience." 
 
 "But your adversaries say, they come at 
 those abstract ideas through a course of expe- 
 rience." 
 
 " I think the dissimilitude in the way we pos- 
 sess the knowledge of experienced facts, proves 
 the different ways through which we have come by 
 these two sets of ideas. We are born with 
 abstract notions fresh from God ; and they show 
 their soiu'ce, by being universal, true, perfect, 
 and exact. Those results, the knowledge of 
 which we have arrived at by the imperfect sources 
 of men's observation and reason, are differing 
 and uncertain." 
 
 *'No," said I, ''there is the sun's appearance, for 
 instance ; all nations have had experience of that, 
 and all nations are agreed about it." 
 
 "Are they?" answered the Rector. " Now there 
 is one of the best experienced facts, yet look at 
 the diversity of opinions on that very point. 
 Some nations thhik the sun to be a God ; some 
 a shield of gold, as big as a round table ; there 
 is nothing certain known of what it is, even by 
 the most learned. Now take the abstract idea 
 of truth ; we know what it is, in what it consists, 
 all about it, in all ages, in all nations. We could 
 
 G 2
 
 1:24 CATll \L MORE. 
 
 not coiuo by tliis certainty from cx])eri('nco, unless 
 \vv were omniscient nnd onmipresent." 
 
 " Certainly," said I. " 1 have often wondered 
 that the school of ('\j)(ri('neers (hd not see tliat. 
 Their theory would only suit an iiilinitt; being, 
 if we coidd imagine such a one, launched com- 
 pletely ignorant into creation." 
 
 " Yes ! and how can they, whose experience 
 must be dirt'erent with every man, and gathered 
 from diftering facts, ever arrive at positive prin- 
 ciples ? Now such are necessary to man's morality. 
 So God has mercifully implanted some great 
 truths, to be guiding stars for our conduct." 
 
 '* Then I suj)pose you think the religious prin- 
 ciple which is found throughout the world, to be 
 iiniate," 
 
 *' Yes ! because I cannot see that by expe- 
 rience we are led to religion." 
 
 ** But by it, one may discover that there is 
 a moral governor, though 1 confess with difHculty ; 
 and besides, it leads to the belief that there 
 exists a Creator — a first cause." 
 
 " Allowing that it does, it do( s not teach us 
 to worship that first cause ; nor does it instruct 
 us what are the morals that Creator enforces. 
 Because oiu' liuiteness leads us into unavoid-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 1:25 
 
 able error, we are, I think, given an instinct of 
 what is perfect, and whenever we follow it, it 
 will lead us to right. Wliatever we are taught 
 in this manner, is true and exact ; whatever we 
 learn from our own experience, is fallible, though 
 sometimes almost true and almost exact.'* 
 
 " If that be so then,'' I said, " Ave should 
 judge all acquired truth by the principles we 
 have derived from a higher source." 
 
 " Just so ; and I think most of the error which 
 has arisen in the world, has been caused by re- 
 versing the process, and judging of abstract trutli 
 by experience. I think experience is not capable 
 of domg so ; it is like a man judguig God. \\c 
 should rather take the original great rules of our 
 innate ideas, or abstract truths, and square the 
 results of our discoveries to fit into them." 
 
 " You agree on these points well wnth Mrs. 
 More," said I. 
 
 " We have often talked the matter over to- 
 gether ; it is extraordinary, for a woman, \\\n\\ 
 correct notions she has." 
 
 " Have you heard of Mr. Scli(^lling's proposi- 
 tion to Catiial More ?" 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " Mrs. More asked nie, as 
 an old friend, to advise him against accepting it." 
 And have you done so ?"
 
 126 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 " 1 was there this very iiioriiiiig, and said what 
 I eoidd ; but he cut mc sliort, by telUng me, tliat 
 I was of course, as a minister of the Enghsh 
 churcli, a prejudiced person." 
 
 " His mother is very unhappy about it," said I. 
 
 ** Yes ! but she will not ask Cathal for her 
 sake to refuse Mr. Sehelling, nor will she even 
 let him perceive that it is pressing on her 
 mind.'' 
 
 ** I am siu'e he would not refuse her, for he is 
 very affectionate, and attached to her ; but why 
 will she not ask him?" 
 
 " Because she wishes him to act from his own 
 feeling of right, and not from an impulse of 
 kindness." 
 
 *' But suppose he does introduce Unitarianism ; 
 surely, it would be wiser of her to prevent that, 
 by any means." 
 
 " Why, she has very fixed notions of each man 
 being responsible for his own actions ; she hopes 
 her son may discover his error by his own re- 
 searches into his conduct, which he would pro- 
 bably never make, if he let the matter drop 
 now, to please her. — Love for strict right," 
 he continued, '' and her atlc ction for her son, 
 make her wish him to act from principle ; she 
 would not have him led merely by his impulses,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 127 
 
 into doing even an action that would have good 
 results." 
 
 " You did not expect your present guests to 
 stay so long, did you ?" I asked. 
 
 " I did not expect them to stay at all/' he an- 
 swered ; " but, of course, a certain amount uf 
 hospitality is required from me, as rector." 
 
 " I suppose," said I, " Mrs. Peter is attracted 
 by Cathal and his rich friend." 
 
 *' Yes ; I had the ill luck, the evening she ar- 
 rived, to tell her More's rental, and what I had 
 heard from him about Major Wyndham. I saw 
 her interchange a look with her daughter, and 
 since then they have not said a word about 
 going." 
 
 " They must be a great plague in your house ; 
 do not you know any thing more about them, 
 than your old boyish acquaintance ?" 
 
 " When ]Mr. Peter died insolvent, I helped ;i 
 subscription for his wife, and I have heard oc- 
 casionally of them since ; they live in DubHn 
 now, for some one gave them a ho\ise there." 
 
 " What do your daughters say to them ?" 
 
 "Agnes is kind to them, because she thinks it 
 right ; and Catty is rather anuised by their o(hl 
 ways. I think Major Wyndham is a little cauglit 
 by the giil, for he is here almost every morning."
 
 128 CATIIAL MOIIK. 
 
 *' lie was in the drawiii'^'-room when 1 was 
 there ; bnt do not supjjose he is a(hniring ' My 
 Barby ;' it is evident that she drags liiiu abont, 
 and kee])s him in eonversation, ahnost against 
 his will." 
 
 '* Mrs Peter tohl me yesterday, that there was 
 every probal)ility of their being married," he said 
 with an anmsingly perplexed air. 
 
 " Hush," I eried, '* there is the lady in ques- 
 tion walkhig with a book in her hand ; let us 
 turn down this path." We were not destined 
 to be alone, however, for in a moment we came 
 across Major Wyndham and Miss Peter, in a 
 parallel walk to the one her mother had taken. 
 
 Mr. Hyde turned to me triumphantly. " Did 
 not I tell you so ? Major Wyndham is certainly 
 paying his addresses to the young lady." 
 
 " Her mother and she are paying theirs to 
 him, you mean,'* I exclaimed. 
 
 '* Well, whichever it is, I will go in now, while 
 the house is quiet ; for I have had no peace lately, 
 Miss Peter sings and plays so violently." 
 
 We went into the di'awing-room, and found 
 the rector's daughters still drawing. 
 
 " Why did you not go out with Miss Peter, 
 girls ?" asked their father. 
 
 *' She wished, and wished to go out, and com-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 129 
 
 plained of having no one to walk with, until 
 she fairly tormented Major Wyndham into going 
 with her," said Catherine. 
 
 " And why did not you go ?" 
 
 " I offered to do so, but Mrs. Peter looked 
 so annoyed that I withdrew my proposal." 
 
 " But what was very strange," said Agnes, 
 ** Mrs. Peter, who had been complaining of 
 rheumatism all the morning, WTut and put on 
 her bonnet and shawd, the moment her daughter 
 was gone," 
 
 " Yes ! we met her w^alking," I said. " How do 
 you like her ?" 
 
 '' Not at all," said Catherine ; " everything is 
 stiff about her, except her notions of right and 
 ^\Tong." 
 
 " My dear Catty," said Agnes, reprovingly. 
 
 " Now you know, Agnes, it is no harm telhng 
 
 Doctor , is it ? So I will. She is always 
 
 saying how she ' gets on,' as she calls it, anil 
 what tricks she plays to succeed in her schemes ; 
 and then, when Agnes looks grave, she repeats 
 for the occasion a form of cant she knows by 
 heart, about the *one thing needful.' " 
 
 '* And what is her one thing needful ?" I asked. 
 
 " I am sure, in truth, it is money." 
 
 G 3
 
 130 CATHAL MORE, 
 
 " What would papa say, if he heard you ?" said 
 Agues, tryiug to look grave, but smiliug iu spite 
 of herself. jNlr. Hyde had gone into his study. 
 
 " And her daughter is still more extraordinary," 
 continued Catherine, when she saw the smile on 
 her sister's face. " She told us she was writing 
 a novel — we asked what it was about — and she 
 said, it was to exemplify her experiences of love 
 and valour, and that she was engaged just now 
 on a moonlight scene." 
 
 " Military men, by moonlight,! suppose," said I. 
 
 " Moonshine, perhaps," she answered, laugh- 
 ing ; " but besides, she showed me a collection of 
 letters she had written to an imaginary suitor, and 
 his supposed answers." 
 
 " Could you persuade her to let us see them?" 
 asked 1. 
 
 " Very likely," she answered ; " for I assure you 
 she is excessively proud of them ; she calls them 
 * Broken words of burning hearts.' " 
 
 " Here they come," said Agnes; " do stop, Ca- 
 therine." 
 
 Major Wyndham entered alone. Catherine 
 looked inquiringly at him. 
 
 " 1 have had a narrow escape, and been in ini- 
 mineut peril," he said.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 131 
 
 " You are not hiu't, I hope," said Agnes, who 
 did not observe his air of badinage. 
 
 "Can I do anything for you? anything broken ? 
 Any vessel of the heart ?" I inquired, meaningly. 
 
 " No. I saved myself by presence of mind, 
 and great skill ; but I really cannot tell the parti- 
 culars, it would too much alarm the young ladies." 
 
 "Is it anything about Miss Peter?" asked 
 Miss Hyde. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh, then do not tell it to us ; she is our 
 guest, you know." 
 
 " What nonsense, Agnes ! as if w^e cared for 
 her ; shut up your ears, for I want to hear it," 
 said Catherine. 
 
 " Pray do not," answered Agnes, gravely ; "papa 
 would not like it." 
 
 " You are right, Agnes, as you always are ; yo\i 
 must not tell your adventure, Major Wyndham," 
 said her sister. 
 
 " I must tell it to some one," he said ; " so 
 come, doctor, I will walk with you, whichever way 
 you are going." 
 
 I was rather astonished at the invitation, for 
 the first day I was introduced to Major Wyndham 
 he was as supercilious as an Englishman wtll 
 could be. However, he had changed much since
 
 182 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 then, and seemed to have t'oiind ont tliat the in- 
 habitants of Cappagli were not utter savages. I 
 assented to his proj)Osal ; and, when we were out 
 of hearing, he burst into the heartiest fit of huigh- 
 ing I ever heard liiin indulge in, for lie rarely ever 
 went beyond a quiet smile. 
 
 •' Those women !" he exclaimed ; " if I had not 
 met Mrs. More and the Hydes, I should certainly 
 have imagined that it was the Irish custom." 
 
 '* What is the Irish custom?" I asked. 
 
 '' 1 must tell you ; I must tell every one ; I 
 really cannot keep so good a story secret." 
 
 " Do not spare Miss Peter," I said ; *' she is one 
 of those women who deserve to be well laughed at." 
 
 " You must know she has attacked me ever 
 since that evening they dined with the Mores. I 
 saw it at once, but I felt a kind of curiosity to 
 see what such wild animals would do ; and I 
 often came down to the rectory in the morning. 
 To-day, Miss Peter asked me to go out walking 
 with her; she was very sentimental, in the broad 
 farce styl(\ until at last she got rather too earnest, 
 and talked of our future fate, and all that kind of 
 thing — so I informed her that I had just got 
 leave, and that I was going to England next week. 
 No answer was made ; then I said I should like to 
 get back to Wyndham manor ; no answer still,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 133 
 
 but a half-groan instead. ' I beg your pardon/ 
 said I, ' did you speak ?' She muttered some- 
 thing which I did not catch ; as I stooped down 
 to try and hear, Mrs. Peter rushed from behind a 
 hedge, and seizing both our hands, exclaimed, ' I 
 see how it is ; I congratulate you.' ' On having 
 got leave of absence,' I answered ; ' yes, I am very 
 lucky, and just now too, when there is nothing 
 to do here.' You should have seen their anger — it 
 was charming ; they could neither of them trust 
 themselves to speak. Miss Peter pulled her arm 
 out of mine, where it had been lying ; and she 
 and her mother walked off at a tremendous pace 
 to the rectory. I could scarcely manage to keep 
 from a good fit of laughter, until they were out 
 of hearing." 
 
 " But perhaps she is really disappointed," I said. 
 
 " I am quite sure she is ; and to comfort her, 
 I said, just as we came in, 'I will introduce a sub- 
 altern of mine to you, Miss Peter ; he is very rich, 
 and not very wise.' " 
 
 " And will you do so ?" 
 
 " I think I will; it wiU serve him right, for being 
 such a silly fellow." 
 
 '* She shows badly by the side of Mrs. More, 
 certainly."
 
 131 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 *' As to that, if she was by tlio side of Anicri- 
 caii squaws, she would be intolerul)le. 
 
 '' AVliat a contrast she is to the Miss Ilydcs," 
 he continued ; " tliey are really refined ; there is 
 the refinement of good about them as well as 
 fashion. Mrs. More was right ; she herself is 
 the least vulgar woman I ever met — she as- 
 tonishes me ; and in Ireland, too." 
 
 " I think you are mistaken about Irish people," 
 I answered. 
 
 " You cannot imagine what odd society I 
 have seen, since I came over ; at one house, I 
 found a party made up almost entirely of En- 
 glishmen, to meet me, they said. I was talking to 
 one of the grooms one morning, and I asked 
 some of their names. ' There is Mr. Jones, and 
 there is Mr. Perkins, and Mr. Penny,' he said, 
 with a grin ; ' you know, sir, we likes to be rubbin 
 up against the English.' I found too, the master 
 and mistress of the house had given up their 
 room for my accommodation, and gone to an attic. 
 Now what can one think of such slavish people ?" 
 
 *' Very badly, I allow; but there are many causes 
 
 for this slavishness, and the English have not 
 
 been altogether guiltless of producing it. There 
 
 are yet, nevertheless, specimens of a better class.'* 
 
 " They must be very rare, for I have scarcely
 
 CATHAL MORE. 135 
 
 met any people since I came to Ireland, who 
 have not been tinged with this cringing to every- 
 thing English." 
 
 "It is the result of an ill-assorted union," I 
 could not help replying. 
 
 " The two nations are certainly hopelessly dif- 
 ferent now/' said Major Wyndham. 
 
 " Hopefully different !" I exclaimed; " we are a 
 separate people, of separate natures from the 
 English ; we may be loyal subjects, faithful allies, 
 but we cannot merge into their existence. From 
 the attempt to force us to do so, has arisen many 
 of the anomalies of Ireland. We are under the 
 worst of all tyranny— the tyranny of a stranger 
 nation. It w^ould be better for Ireland if there 
 were a Napoleon on the English throne." 
 
 " Well, we must not get on politics," said 
 Major Wyndham. " English and Irishmen never 
 agree about them, and here is More looking very 
 grave." 
 
 Cathal joined his friend ; and, while they went 
 on with their walk, I U ft them to have haU' an 
 hour's conversation with Mrs. More.
 
 136 CATIIAL MOKE. 
 
 ClLVrTER IX. 
 
 I MUST apologize to the reader, if I luive writ- 
 ten down too many of the conversations, which 
 were uidneed by the events I liave described. 
 They remained fixed on my mind — so that I 
 have been able to recall them, nearly word 
 for word as they were spoken ; and I know no 
 better w^ay of setting forth the character of 
 ^Irs. More, than by leaving her to speak for her- 
 self : those who tire of what she says, and love 
 an exciting and qnickly-ehanging story, nuist 
 needs be wearied by these pages. I only write 
 the sunple events as they occurred ; bnt 1 am 
 particiUar to note down my old friend's senti- 
 ments, as 1 think they are worthy of being 
 known, and I am sure they will please those 
 who, like her, go on to perfection. I pray the 
 reader to forgive me, if they be somewhat tedious. 
 I found her when I went in, as usual, occupied 
 in some employment which had the good of the 
 poor for its object ; she was making up the ac- 
 counts of her penny-club, and preparing the 
 papers belonging to it for the new year.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 137 
 
 " Catlial lias decided on accepting Mr. Scliel- 
 ling's proposal," she said, as I closed the door 
 behind nie. 
 
 " So I guessed, from -what ^lajor Wyndhani 
 told me," I answered. 
 
 " I can only trust, that my son has acted 
 strictly as he thought right ; but I do not agree 
 in his views." 
 
 " I am sorry — " I began. 
 
 " No, doctor, now that it is settled, let us say 
 no more about it. I may be wrong, and, per- 
 haps, over strict in my views ; at all events, 
 Cathal must be the judge of his own affairs." 
 
 " He looked very grave," said I, " as I m(,^t 
 him." 
 
 " Yes ; I do not think he is quite decided 
 that he is right, and indecision of conduct is al- 
 ways painfid." 
 
 She, indeed, looked very sorrowful ; the fiu*- 
 rows were more deeply marked on her counte- 
 nance ; her figure was more stooped, her fingers 
 more tremulous than usual. Sorrow had beckoned 
 to old age, and he had cast uj)()u her a withering 
 breath. She looked years older tliau when she 
 sat by the blazing fire, on the night of Mr. Sehel- 
 ling's arrival, but yet she would not comjilain. 
 She spoke cheerfully ; she did everything in its
 
 138 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 order — but a keen blii^lit liad })assc'd over her. 
 She tried to Ixlirvc tluit Catlial was acting con- 
 scientiously ; but yet she thouglit, was not con- 
 science the same in all men, aiul what hers so 
 loudly protested against, could his sanction ? 
 Besides, she had noticed his gloom, his avoidance 
 of the subject, his ceasing to have those half- 
 hours of quiet intercoiu"se with her, in which he 
 had formerly delighted. She saw that he was 
 not content ; and she could foresee still greater 
 gloom, still greater self-reproach, when the con- 
 sequences of his present deviation fi'oni the strict 
 line of duty were tested. She knew his upright 
 nature, and that the strong twisted ropes of evil 
 reasonhig, the cords of vanity, would, when too 
 late, recoil, and that he would suffer intensely 
 when he saw the evil he had allowed ; and, besides 
 lier alarmed affection for Cathal, she sorrowed for 
 those who might be led astray by his means. She 
 sorrowed through foresight of the ravages that 
 would be committed among his neighbours, by 
 the evil spirit of heresy and unbelief. Sun^ly, 
 there was good reason why the lines on her coun- 
 tenance should b(^ more deeply furrowed, why her 
 form should be bent with care, and her fingers 
 trembling from anxiety. Cathal could not have 
 marked this sorrow and this grief; he could not.
 
 CATUAL MORE. 139 
 
 if he had, have persisted m his course. Some signs 
 of it he must have perceived ; but now he felt a 
 desire to assert his independence ; he would ''judge 
 for himself ; the world's opinion was on his side." 
 
 What contradictions we run into when we 
 give into a temptation ! he would " judge for 
 himself," yet he was swayed by the world ! As 
 for independence, what is it ? a mere chimera — 
 luring men to evil, " V independenza e un tcsoro 
 inalienahile di Bio Solo,'' — for man to assume 
 it, is a treason against God. And it was treason 
 to God, and treason to the Christian rehgion, 
 and treason to his ow^n conscience, to admit this 
 Unitarian heresy. And why did he admit it ? 
 What object could be sufficiently great to en- 
 courage him to such an act ? A mistaken desire 
 to do good — he was cramped by w^ant of capital, 
 — he thought that if he had this capital, he could 
 improve the condition of his tenants — he did not 
 see the evils he was bringhig about ; or rather, 
 he was wilfully bhnd to them, for he thought he 
 was acting for the advantage of others, and he 
 piu'posely overlooked his own ])ers()nal duty, 
 from false phihuithroj)y. 
 
 Personal duty should hv our engrossing care ; 
 true self-love, the spring of all our actions. And 
 no one may be kind to others, if it in one jot
 
 110 
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 injures liis real intiM'csts ; tlicsi; arc true princi- 
 ])l('s, thougli tlicy sound souicwhat strange; l)ut 
 men who deviate from them, not only act wrongly, 
 but seldom bring about any certain good to 
 others. AVe hear great talk of philanthropy, of 
 neighboiu'ly charity and toleration ; yet, if bene- 
 volence infringes on the shghtest injunction of 
 conscience, it becomes sin. We forget this, and 
 commit })ious frauds, tell " white lies," do all 
 manner of evil, and gloss it over by imagining 
 it is done with a good intention of beneiitting 
 others. 
 
 This perversion of truth is too conmion in 
 Ireland ; the lower class carry it so far, that per- 
 jury seems to them a light oftence, if it assists 
 their friends ; they become accessories to murder 
 sooner than injure a neighbour, and even the 
 uj)perclasseswill strain a point — in plain English, 
 act against their sense of right — to help their 
 party. Cathal More " strained a point :" he wrote 
 to Mr. Schelling, promising him a site for his 
 chapf^l, and his countenance in building it, if he 
 would transmit the £20,000 before the spring. 
 A favourable answer came in return ; Mr. Schel- 
 ling expressed himself well ])lcased that Cathal 
 had not been blinded by ujutow bigotry, and 
 promised, that without delay the money should
 
 CATHAL MORE. 141 
 
 be placed to his friend's credit, on liis sending 
 over his title-deeds, and the usual papers. 
 
 So far the matter was concluded. Mr. Schel- 
 ling was, as Mrs. ]\Iore had said, a singidar con- 
 tradiction of his creed. Unitarians arc usually, 
 from their rationalism, a calm and unproselytising 
 sect ; their religion has for its votaries a class of 
 unenthusiastic, cold, but subtle thinkers, who 
 disdain to spread their opinions by the influence 
 of men's mortal affections. They make our finite 
 reason the originator and judge of religion, and 
 so they leave their doctrines to be determined by 
 its narrow deductions. 
 
 It is a system which men have invented, 
 simple, and agreeable to reason, perhaps, but not 
 appealing to nature, and not calculated to find 
 favour with the multitude. Such is modern 
 Unitarianism ; but Mr. Schelling seemed to have 
 in him the spirit of the Arian persecutors in the 
 third century. An inveterate hostility to Christian- 
 ity, an eager propagandism of his infidel creed, 
 were his leading characteristics ; they were th(; 
 objects of his life, and the greater part of it liad 
 been spent in pursuing them. Unscrupulous in 
 the means he used, he att'ected the most humane 
 and generous character ; and seeing in Cathal a 
 philanthropist, with unfixed principles on the
 
 142 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 subject of religious requirements, lie advocated 
 before him tlie most uuboundid toleration, and 
 by his talent and sophistries, completely deranged 
 his already wavering ideas ; in reality, inducing 
 him to attack the Christian religion by thus coun- 
 tenancing her adversary, while the young man 
 imagined he was only encouraging freedom of 
 opinion. It was not religion, nor even fanaticism, 
 which caused his bitterness against the Anglican 
 church. 
 
 In his youth he had been domesticated in 
 the family of an English clergyman for some 
 months ; he was only eighteen at the time, yet 
 he soon felt a most violent attachment for his 
 host's niece, who was staying at the same house. 
 Mr. Schelling w^as then comparatively poor apd 
 unknown. The young lady was strikingly beau- 
 tiful, and very much admired by men of rank 
 and fortune in the county ; and, when he avowed 
 his love to her, with all the confidence of inex- 
 perience, and presumption of conscious cleaniess ; 
 she harshly refused him, and spoke with cutting 
 contempt of his infidel creed and foreign origin. 
 
 JMtterly and sternly he resolved, as she tiu*ned 
 from him, that his best energies should be, for 
 life, devoted to damaging her religion, and tread- 
 ing down her nation.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 143 
 
 A single man can do little towards the ac- 
 complishment of such objects, without the aid of 
 wealth. The Unitarian felt this ; he devoted his 
 talents to speculation, and in our rich empire he 
 quickly amassed money ; he became a noble in 
 the aristocracy of wealth, highly considered by 
 the world; in consequence, he gained influence 
 and power, little lessened by the fact, that by 
 the tricks and unseen w^heels of his speculations, 
 he every year contrived to ruin many, and that 
 he always made the admission of Unitarianism a 
 condition in his loans. To the influence of mere 
 money, he added the weight of his supposed integ- 
 rity, maintaining the utmost regularity in his deal- 
 ings, that he might the better impose on the class 
 of moneyed men, so important in England ; and 
 he even put his name down to large subscrip- 
 tions for Christian purposes, that he might im- 
 press society with his philanthropy. 'Every act of 
 his had reference to the one object of propagating 
 his faith, more because it was opposite to that 
 of Catholics, than for any love he bore to his own. 
 
 Soon after his rejection by the young lady 
 which had so excited his anger, he married a 
 gentle quiet girl of his own persuasion, for the 
 sake of a considerable fortune she possessed, and 
 which he courted as the means of gaining more,
 
 144 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 and so advancing his darling end. She died in 
 giving birth to licr first son, tlir Rupert with 
 whom \]\v reader is ah-eady aecpiainted. Mr. 
 Scliclling, from the first, looked on the boy as an 
 additi(mal instrument for his purpose ; for, like 
 most planners of the future, he calculated over- 
 much on the obedience of those under his autho- 
 rity. And he had educated Rupert Anthout a 
 doubt of his future co-operation ; but latterly he 
 had perceived that his son had ideas of his own, 
 very decided, and deeply fixed. He had been 
 alarmed at one or two symptoms of difierence 
 from his views, and he immediately determined 
 to offer Rupert an apparently fair and unbiassed 
 choice, between his own long accustomed religion, 
 and the Catholic creed, lie knew the eftect this 
 seeming candour would produce on the young 
 man's mind, and he trusted that filial reverence 
 and affection would counterbalance any wish he 
 might have — if he had any — to adopt another re- 
 ligion. Still, he experienced great anxiety about 
 him ; forlMr. Schelling felt how unattractive his cold 
 and calcidating creed Avould be to a mind like 
 Rupert's. Even the fear of his possible secession 
 tortured his father's mind ; to tliink of //is son 
 joining his bitter foes; and such an u])right, 
 clever son ' Tlie mere report of such a thing
 
 CATHAL MORE. 145 
 
 would undo the work of liis life, and he dreaded 
 much to be so disappointed. After devoting so 
 much care to the education of his son — to his 
 preparation for the part he would have him play, 
 he feared to find him inclined contrariwise, *' the 
 engineer hoist by his own petard" — his own son ! 
 
 Mr. Schelling had not trusted in the deep- 
 seated principles of good in men ; he had believed 
 that characters were created by circumstances, and 
 he had formed Rupert by habit to disbelieve Chris- 
 tianity, and had tried to guard hiin from even 
 knowing its outlines. But the wind had blown 
 where it listed ; it had breathed upon his son's 
 mind, and taught him that there is another 
 power than reason, that men are ever unsatisfied, 
 and thirsting for a distant perfection, that on ac- 
 count of sin, we cannot of ourselves attain to it, 
 and that through the justness of the Creator, 
 God alone by His advent could purchase the 
 happiness, in other words, the perfection of man- 
 kind. 
 
 Mr. SchellinfT thoucrht not of these tliinirs ; lie 
 studied men as men, not as creatures ; his faith 
 was unbonnded,but it was a faith in his fellows; he 
 looked not to the giver of their intelligence, and 
 he cared not who inspired thought when dis- 
 coveries were made ; he believed in mesmerism, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 14G CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 because it was a limiian jjowcr ; he trusted any 
 visionary who j)ro})hcsir(l of mortal greatness, 
 though he felt ahnost a coiiti iii[)t lor tlie author 
 of the Bible. 
 
 His son, on the other hand, sought to explore 
 the dimly-seen regions Avhicli lie beyond the 
 confines of sensuous experience ; he had been a 
 sickly child, and he had had much time for 
 thought, and for the exercise of his imagination 
 — that true imagination which is the mirror of 
 truths intangible to reason — not fancy, which 
 only repeats ])icturcs of earth. 
 
 His early love for whatsoever was pure, for 
 whatsoever was lovely, his thoughts of virtue, 
 and of praise, had strengthened in him the long- 
 ing Avhich some men feel for truth. Religion, 
 the link between man and his Creator, was of 
 singular strength in him ; his own creed could 
 not satisfy him, for it did not get beyond num, 
 and he wanted to come at God. 
 
 His thoughts were nuich occupied on these 
 subjects, during thr, winter on which accident 
 had introduced him to the Mores. Before then, 
 he had met with nothing but disa})j)()intment in 
 the society of his father's friends. I'hey appeared 
 to him to be ever looking down at the earth, 
 and the earth's produce, instead of, like him,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 147 
 
 gazing upward. Their thoughts seemed con- 
 centrated, on the operations of themselves, or 
 their fellows. Even their religion was selfish ; 
 and if they thought at all on the subject, it was 
 but with reference to their own rewards, or 
 punishments. 
 
 This disregard of the beauties around them, 
 brutish as it seemed to a mind organized as his 
 was, disgusted him with his fellow men, and he 
 was rapidly approaching the dangerous ground 
 of misanthropy, when Mrs. ]\Iore crossed his 
 path. Pier conversation was like a summer rain 
 to his parched spirit. She thought as he did of 
 the excellence in all things ; and, though he 
 spoke not of controverted points to her, her mere 
 character filled him with admiration for the 
 Catholic belief, in the light of which she had 
 grown up in all goodness. 
 
 A week seems short for such utter strangers 
 to have thus seen into the depths of each others' 
 characters, but minds rush quickly to their kin- 
 dred minds, when they chance to meet, and htth} 
 intro(hiction is needed by fellow-seekers for truth. 
 And Mrs. More was an earnest searcher for the 
 scattered grains of it, which lie In re and there, 
 in all around us, and though her form was bent 
 by old age, and withered from ill health, gloom 
 
 n 2
 
 148 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 iirvor sliowcd itself on lior countenance. Sorrow, 
 indeed, there often was — dee]) sorrow ; ])ut lier 
 tears were a sliower throuj^h wliicli the sun 
 slione — the sun of licr constant content, for at 
 no time was her mind sniiercd to be over-cast 
 by care. 
 
 It is customary to s])eak largely in ])raise of 
 self-abnegation in these days. It is not a right 
 word to express, that " doing unto others what 
 we would they should do to us ;" and mischief, 
 it seems to me, may result from its being made so 
 prominent a virtue ; for it is contrary to our na- 
 ture, and, consecpiently,a sin. I will not, therefore, 
 in the fashional)le language of the day, say that 
 Mrs. More's greatest excellence was her self-sacri- 
 fice. It was rather her self-love, which prompted 
 her unwearied care of the poor, and her self- 
 denial of every mmecessary ])leasure, that she 
 might aid others ; nor did she, as is too often 
 done, neglect to use her influence among those 
 C)f tlie uj)per classes whom she numbered in her 
 acquaintance. Not that she pursu(Ml the injudi- 
 cious plan of indiscriminately attacking the pre- 
 judices of others ; but she lost no opportunity of 
 instilling good, and she considered this a prior 
 duty to instructing the poor, at least one, that in 
 the order of things, should be first attended to.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 149 
 
 She had done niiich good, and tlu! tone of the 
 society in which she moved, had been raised, 
 not to a sectarian austerity, but to CathoHcism. 
 Through her friends, her principles filtered down 
 to the i)oor, and as, in country parts, tlie rich are 
 often the chief sources of wrong or right princi- 
 ples, among those who are below them in station, 
 she set herself to make friends, and to encourage 
 society, that she might perform her due part in 
 its improvement. 
 
 It may be said, that Ave have no business to 
 interfere either for good or evil with the princi- 
 ples of our neighl)onrs. Mrs. More did not 
 think so ; she liekl that every man was a mis- 
 sionary, and that to improve his fellow men was 
 a duty second only to his own self-disrij)line 
 She had found Rupert Schelling eager for know- 
 ledge, and she earnestly endeavoured to assist 
 him, by leading him to the universal rehgion, 
 the harmony, to whose notes all creations accord ; 
 the harmony, of which the melody is Christianity. 
 
 ]\Iajor Wyndham, too, had felt tlu" charui of 
 her sweet intluenees ; a strange power seemed to 
 assist her — it was the power of lier earnestness 
 — because she worked for the Cause, and not for 
 her own success. 
 
 M'ith such auxietv Un' the good of others, and
 
 150 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 strict notions of oiir duty in ])romoting it, Mrs. 
 More's pain at her son's conntcnancc of an infidel 
 religion, may be imagined to have been intense, 
 but she woidd not interfere by a ])ersonal request ; 
 slie wouhl not let ali'ection outweigh his own 
 judgment, for she distrusted the permanency of 
 such a feeling, and she wished him to undertake 
 at once his own responsibility. lie had done so ; 
 he had consulted expediency, or at lea.st, fol- 
 lowed a doubtful course, and he had received 
 already the sum of money, which he intended to 
 work the counterbalancing good for the wrong 
 act, that he could not but feel he had committed. 
 She was confident that, one day, he would retrace 
 his steps, for his was not the character she 
 thought, to persevere in what conscience con- 
 demned. Cathal was like her in his admiration 
 of right, and his acknowledgement of the neces- 
 sity of following duty. 
 
 He had not, however, either her determination, 
 or her ])erseverance in sifting principles of action ; 
 his fault was indecision and weakness. He was a 
 true specimen of the Milesian family, ehivah'ous 
 in his sense of honom-, unblemished in his ac- 
 tions, and religious in his tone of mind, indeed, 
 almost superstitious ; but the indolence of his 
 race had deadened his powers of perception, and
 
 CATHAL MORE. 151 
 
 he failed to perceive clearly the fjillacies of Mr. 
 Schelling's arguments, because the weapons of 
 intelligence which had been committed to him 
 for his defence, had become hiefficient from disuse. 
 There were moments when it seemed to him that 
 he was wrong, but indolence checked his further 
 inquiry, — " the enemy took him unawares." 
 
 There is a common notion about the Milesian 
 race, which is most erroneous ; they are described 
 in the strange accounts of the Irish, which are 
 published now-a-days, by authors who must be 
 ignorant of theii* real character, as a merry rol- 
 licking people, possessing superficial characters, 
 and potato faces. No account could be more 
 opposed to the reality. The Milesian type is 
 rare now, but where it exists, it is strikingly 
 suggestive of its Castilian ancestry. Cathal's 
 silent reserve and dignified gravity, would have 
 suited the court of Ferdinand and Isabella ; his 
 dark lustrous eyes and regular features reminded 
 me of a still remoter age, when his forefathers 
 led the Phenician colonics to the boundaries 
 of the then known world, and when his race 
 excelled all others in splendour and civiliza- 
 tion. He could claim affinity with the 'godlike' 
 Greek of Homer's time, and he belonged to the 
 family of those Castilians, who appeared to the
 
 152 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 iiiluibitaiits of the new world, as deities, so noble 
 was their toiiii. lie was not unworthy of sueh 
 a descent, nor was nobility of mind wanting, but 
 the ori<;inal energy of his race had been worn 
 out, and this success had sowed in them the 
 seeds of indolence. 
 
 We may see in history how this inert spirit 
 creeps on the ohl age of nations, but especially on 
 that of those who have achieved the finest works, 
 and the greatest success In Greece and Spain, 
 the riienieian race yet exist in their decay, show^- 
 ing noble forms of the past. In their colony, 
 Ireland, too, the shadow of their greatness is fast 
 fading, and suffering the e()ntem])t and scorn 
 which fallen nobility ever receives from the 
 vulgar. Yet even among the encroachments of 
 the Northern races, some graceful pillars of the 
 ruined past yet remain, as types of its ancient 
 beauty, and Cathal was one of these, reminding 
 us of his forefathers, and causing us to sorrow 
 for their loss, when we look upon their noble 
 vestiges.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 153 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Not long after, Major Wyndham left us to go to 
 England, but he did not seem quite so eager for 
 the change, as he had maliciously informed Mrs. 
 Peter ; on the contrary, he evidently regretted his 
 friends at Cappagh, as he rode slowly and thought- 
 fully through the village on his departure. Nor 
 was he less missed by those he left : Mrs. More 
 had learned to like him much, and Cathal was sorry 
 to lose the agreeable and well-informed com- 
 panion, who, by his presence, served to render 
 less noticeable the slight constraint, which had 
 clogged his intercourse with his mother, since his 
 acceptance of ]\Ir. Schelling's proposal. At the 
 rectory, too, his morning visits were regretted ; 
 for there was a charm about liis manner, against 
 which none could be proof. Mrs. Peter and her 
 daughter had flitted from the neighbourhood 
 nearly as quickly as they came ; they knew that 
 after their discomfiture, by Major Wyndham, they 
 had little chance of pleasing his intimate friend ; 
 
 n 3
 
 154 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 their occupation was gone in tlie neighbourhood 
 of Cappagh. 
 
 Mrs. Peter, liowevcr, was not unniindfnl of 
 Major Wyndham's hhit about his rich sul)altern,for 
 she was determined to " leave no stone unturned," 
 which might conceal a treasure of gold ; and she 
 conveniently remembered that another " intimate 
 and old friend," lived within a mile or two of the 
 — th Hussars' head quarters. At her house she 
 established herself, and mana^.uvered so success- 
 fully, that before long Mr. Parks was fairly en- 
 snared by " My Barby." Meantime, Mr. Schel- 
 ling's loan was duly received by Cathal, and, after 
 the discharge of his father's debts, which had 
 been mostly incurred in small sums, he found 
 liimself with a sur[)lus of nearly two thousand 
 pounds, with which to carry on his projected 
 drainage works. 
 
 Nothing could be more prosperous than the 
 state of Ireland at that time ; those connected 
 with land were in the zenith of their prosperity, 
 and rapidly improving in the art of agrieidtiu-e. 
 Every side of affairs presented a fair view ; and 
 even political agitation, which has ever been the 
 misfortmu" of Ireland, was for the time hushed. 
 
 AVhen Cathal attained his majority, which he 
 did, the reader will remember, at an unusually late
 
 CATHAL MORE. If 
 
 ).'J 
 
 age, the condition of the More estate was so 
 thriving, that an increase of the rental was readily 
 made, from the low rate at which the tenants had 
 held nnder Mrs. More's management, to one more 
 suited to what was thought the risen value of the 
 land. The village of Cappagh too, had been 
 much added too, and it was one of the most 
 orderly and thriving in the country, for Ca- 
 thal's father had spent large sums of money in 
 building the neat rows of white-washed and 
 slated cottages, which lined nearly a quarter of a 
 mile of road. His hobby had been to encourage 
 the cottier system — and his wife, jMrs. j\Iore, 
 carrying out his intentions, had fostered by all the 
 means in her power, and assisted the growth, of 
 the picturesque hamlet. 
 
 It had been the landlord's plan, that by labour, 
 given either on his own grounds or by the neigh- 
 bourins; farmers, each cottier should be maintained; 
 and to each house was only attached sufficient 
 land to supply the necessary potatoes for a 
 family, including that cherished member of it — 
 the pig. 
 
 So favourable had the late Mr. More been to 
 the sub-division of his estate, that he had not even 
 guarded against the system of partitioning farms, 
 among the tenants' children, which is so common
 
 150 CATIIM. MORE. 
 
 in Ireland. He thought that increase of popula- 
 tion would only follow, in a safe proportion, in- 
 crease of industry and im})rovcd husbandry ; and 
 lie had tried to give a stimulus to this improve- 
 ment, by employing many labourers on his own 
 laiul, and building the village for their accommo- 
 dation. He did not live to carry out his schemes, 
 but at his death he committed the management 
 of his property to his wife, and that she might 
 uninterruptedly fulfil his wishes, he purposely de- 
 layed the majority of his son. 
 
 She followed his steps as closely as she coidd, 
 and during the twenty years of her unintermitting 
 labours, a swarming population had gathered in 
 the little town her husband had founded. 
 
 Under such circumstances, those who know 
 anything of Ireland can imagine to what an ex- 
 tent, what is called the ''con-acre system" was car- 
 ried on ; and the potato-crop became the chief 
 source of profit to the neighbouring farmers. It 
 was, indeed, the largeness of their gains in this 
 way, that enabled them with ease to pay rents to 
 Cathal which otherwise they could not have made. 
 
 No village could be prettier than was Cappagh 
 in 1 844 ; fine old elm-trees, shaded the row^s of 
 one-storied houses at either side, and trim hedges 
 of sweetbriars, and Scotch roses divided each well-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 157 
 
 stocked garden. The people under Mrs. More's 
 tutelage, seemed to have really gamed a love for 
 flowers, for here and there a good carnation 
 or double hollyhock showed itself in autumn. 
 
 A day seldom passed, during which some of 
 the cottages were not visited by Mrs. More, not 
 as a patroness, but as a friend ; treating her poorer 
 neighbours with the same regard and dehcacy of 
 feeling, as she would those of a higher class. She 
 carefully kept up the commemoration of holy days ; 
 admitting, on such occasions, any who wished, into 
 the park, or pleasure- gardens ; and often promot- 
 ing games and dancing, on condition that they 
 should not be prolonged till late in the evening. 
 
 The clergymen of both Anglican and Roman 
 churches, generally joined in presiding at these 
 merry-makings. Both were well-educated and 
 thinking men ; and their learning had led them 
 to discover the many points of union between the 
 chm'ches to which they were ministers. They 
 dwelt on this similitude, and avoided exhibiting 
 their dissensions, as is too often done, by contro- 
 versialists ; for even though important differences 
 do exist, why should feelings of ignorant ani- 
 mosity be kept up among the lower orders, by 
 only pointing out the disputed questions, and 
 ascribing the errors of individuals to the religion
 
 158 CATIIAT, MORR. 
 
 they profess ? Mr. Hyde and Fatlier Connor, at 
 least, thought it wisest to allay rather than to 
 excite religious irritation ; and sj)eaking to their 
 flocks, by their exani])le, as by their words, they 
 joined as much as might be in the observance of 
 the same great catholic festivals. 
 
 Our rector was not one of those who hold that 
 moroseness is a necessary sign of religion. It is, 
 he thought, but a symptom of that finite and im- 
 perfect worship, which looks not beyond the man 
 to the Creator. Truly it was suited, he said, to 
 our state, to om* fall, and its grievous conse- 
 quences ; but he exhorted his flock to look with- 
 out, to what had been done for them, and surely 
 they must rejoice. And I agree with him that it 
 is too much a custom, even among sincere Clu'is- 
 tians, to put ofi* their happiness to a future state ; 
 to think that because there we may hope for its 
 perfection, we are to possess none here ; but hap- 
 piness has descended, and many of the glorious 
 promises are already fulfilled. 
 
 We too much consider repentance and sorrow 
 as the chief acts of rehgion ; yet they refer only 
 to ourselves, and they are mere preparations for 
 worship. ]\Ir. Hyde used to say that this mourn- 
 ful ness in the exercise of religion was but ego- 
 tism, and that if we looked without ourselves,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 159 
 
 we must join in the chant of praise which every 
 created being, except man, continually offers up. 
 
 Shall I be misunderstood, if I say, that the 
 Roman faith inclines men to offer up this sacri- 
 fice of thanksgiving more than the Anglican ? I'or 
 even a needful reformation tends also to egotism 
 in religion ; it causes men to devote their thoughts 
 to seeing if they be right or wrong, and to mat- 
 ters of discipline. Reformers, of necessity, are 
 ever examining the weak parts of the ladder by 
 which Heaven is to be attained ; they test the 
 strength of each step, and in their zeal sometimes 
 forget the Great End. In the Anglican church, 
 I think we are still under the influence of this 
 failing, and we forget to rejoice in the Author of 
 all good, while we devote ourselves to consider- 
 ations of our own faith, and our ovna feelings, 
 some of us even attempting the task, so far be- 
 yond the powers of an individual, of arranging 
 our own system of belief. 
 
 The Italian church, on the other hand, defines 
 her articles of faith so clearly, to appearance at 
 least, that her votaries have less grounds for per- 
 plexity, and devote themselves with more entire 
 minds to the acts of religion. 
 
 Far be it from me in saying this to depreciate 
 the excellence of our church : I would only express
 
 ICO CATllAL MORE. 
 
 my belief that the custom of disputing, and tlic 
 many eccentricities of private judgment which 
 prevail among us, are injurious to pure worship. 
 
 Mr. Hyde, at least, thought so ; he seldom 
 touched u])on controverted points, and, treating 
 the foundations of our faith as indisputably secure, 
 most of his instructions were devoted to in- 
 culcating the common duties, and setting forth 
 the common privileges of Catholics. 
 
 On Sundays, the church and chapel bells tolled 
 together in harmony, and after the several ser- 
 vices the congregations separated, inuocent of 
 the self-sufficient pride with which a one-sided 
 controversial sermon generally fills its hearers, 
 but with their minds opened to the oneness of 
 the end that both Anglican and Roman profes- 
 sions have in view. 
 
 Many will say such could not be, for the two 
 creeds are antagonistic — diiFering they are — yet 
 not utterly opposed, I think. Our desire to make 
 the reformed cause seem the right one, — their 
 hatred of heresy, has widened the breach, when, 
 in reality, we are built on one and the same Rock. 
 
 When Cathal came of age, he seemed to be 
 entering on a life of hap})y usefulness. When 
 he undertook the management of his estates — 
 eager to commence his different plans for the
 
 CATHAL MORE. 161 
 
 improvement of his tenantry, — the possession of 
 capital was the main temptation to which he gave 
 way, in his bargain with Mr. Schelhng. It was 
 no personal advantage that swayed his decision, 
 but a desii'e to serve others. 
 
 His drainage works went rapidly on in 
 those early spring months, during which there is 
 but little common-place agricultural employment. 
 Every day he rode down to superintend the opera- 
 tions ; and soon the temporary annoyance of the 
 condition annexed to his friend's loan was for- 
 gotten in the active good which, by it, he had 
 been enabled to set going. 
 
 Towards the end of April, I was pleasantly 
 surprised to see Major Wyndham ride past my 
 dispensary, on his handsome chestnut horse, to- 
 wards the gate of Cappagh Park. He was kind 
 enough to stop and dismount when he saw me, 
 while he asked, with much interest, how all his 
 friends had been, durhig his two months' absence, 
 but inquiring more particularly for ]\Irs. More 
 and Miss Catherine Hyde. People generally 
 spoke without caution to me. I believe it 
 was because, in society, I was usually reserved, 
 and so I had acquired a good name in the 
 neighbourhood for never gossipping. It was not 
 difficult to see, by ]\Iajor Wyndham's manner,
 
 162 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 that he was especially interested in our rector's 
 second daughter ; perhaps, he thought it scarce 
 worth his while to conceal from nic that he was 
 so. Yet, I could not but be struck by the com- 
 ])lete absence of his first hauteur when he ad- 
 di'essed me, and a little flattered by the kindness 
 of her address ; for he was a great man to me — a 
 leader of fashion — heii- presumptive to his bro- 
 ther, a rich English baron, — and owner in his 
 own right of a manor in Derbyshire. 
 
 "I am really glad to return to my old quar- 
 ters," he said, as we went ; " when I first arrived 
 in this country, I did not anticipate such a sen- 
 sation." 
 
 " I am glad," I rephed, "you chanced to meet 
 some true specimens of our Milesian nobility ; 
 they are to the Irish what the Nonnans were in 
 England ; they are the conquered, not the con- 
 quering race, however." 
 
 '' The Northern nations have generally the 
 upperhand," he answered ; " but is not this the 
 path to the rectory ? Shall we try if they are 
 at home?" 
 
 We found the Miss Hydes busy in their gar- 
 den, sowing the tiny annual seeds, which seemed 
 just fitted for their taper fingers ; they readily 
 agreed to join us in oui' walk to Cappagh house :
 
 CATHAL MORE. 163 
 
 indeed, it would have been difficult to refuse 
 Major Wyndham's request, urged, as it was, 
 with an earnestness of manner unusual in him. 
 
 Mrs. More seemed to have felt the influence 
 of the bright spring day, for she met us with 
 even more than her accustomed pleasure. Cathal, 
 too, was fortunately at home, and he insisted 
 that his friend should stay that night, and that 
 our whole party, with the addition of Mr. Hyde, 
 whom he sent for, should dine that evening at 
 Cappagh. 
 
 ]\Iajor Wyndham had not before been tho- 
 roughly domesticated among us, and heretofore 
 his manners had been alloyed by the scorn and 
 satire which the follies of others had called forth ; 
 but, on this occasion, he appeared in a more pleas- 
 ing character. We discovered that he possessed 
 a really fine tenor voice ; for standing behind the 
 young ladies, as they were attempting to reduce 
 a trio into a duet, his voice quietly stole into 
 harmony with theirs, as he supphed the missing 
 part. 
 
 We begged them to continue; but Agnes, find- 
 ing that he was best acquainted with her sister's 
 favourite music, resigned her place to him, and 
 he and Catherine sang song after song, their voices 
 increasing in power and harmony, while we all
 
 ini CATRAL MORE. 
 
 sat silent and (jnictcd In tlic pleasant sonnds, 
 until the dock striking a late lionr warned iis to 
 separate. And then the (juiet Ijiglislnnan ran 
 hastily for shawls and cloaks, and was almost 
 moved to anxiety because it was raining, and 
 !Mr. Hyde's carriage was an open one. 
 
 I was not sur})rise(l tlu; next day to see him 
 sauntering towards the rectory, or to hear that 
 lie had promised to stay another week with the 
 Mores ; for, old man as I am, I was not blind to 
 the symptoms of this attachment for Catherine. 
 
 Spring time suggests such feelings : it is a season 
 of so much hapi)iness, that for the time w^e seem 
 to be imbued wdth the youth and hopefulness on 
 all sides. Even old age becomes green. 
 
 The increased gravity and yet the increased 
 content of Catherine Hyde's expression, which 
 I observed within the week of Major AVyndham's 
 arrival, explained to me what had ha])pened. 
 The shadow^ of her coming soul, to use the 
 beautiful allegory of Undine, had fallen upon 
 her — she had entered the enchanted ground of 
 love. Not the fabled h)ve, the son of mere beauty, 
 but that more exalted ])()wer, which has served 
 to typify the most sublime of all unions. It 
 comes on youth as a freshening breeze, before
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 165 
 
 men enter the parched planis of life — it is the 
 " shadow of a great rock in a wcarv land. " 
 
 But this is not a love-story, and there was 
 httle in Major Wyndham's and Catherine's affec- 
 tion to describe. It flowed in an even current ; 
 there were no objections on either side to the 
 match. Lady Hunsdon, Catherine's nearest rela- 
 tion on her mother's side, was delighted, and 
 wrote to offer her country place for their honey- 
 moon. Mrs. More was also much pleased, though 
 perhaps not for the same reasons ; she felt all 
 the happiness of a mother in Catherine's bright 
 prospect for life. 
 
 It was one of those occasions, when the fullest 
 amount of earthly prosperity seemed the lot of the 
 betrothed ; not a cloud darkened their horizon. 
 
 Why do we see this inequahty of happiness ? 
 Why have Major Wyndham and Catherine so 
 large a share, when, perhaps, others have better 
 deserved it ? 
 
 These questions almost involuntarily escaped 
 me, as, with Mrs. ]\Iore, I was sauntering among 
 the wilderness of Avild-flowers that carpeted Cap- 
 pagh woods in the month of May. 
 
 " To try the patience of the sufferers," she re- 
 plied ; "to teach us to work, not for rewiird, but 
 for the sake of right."
 
 166 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 " Yet it seems contrary to justice," I continued . 
 for tliough in reality I did not dispute the point, 
 I wished to know her thonglits on it — '' that even 
 in this present condition the good should often 
 suffer most." 
 
 " Can WT judge if they do ?" she rej)licd. " We 
 cannot wxigli the merits of any man ; and even 
 in cases of flagrant wrong, the instant punishment 
 in thepresent order of society, of the individual 
 who commits it, might involve the injury of in- 
 nocent people dependent on him — " 
 
 " Still," I said, " the existence of such a state 
 of things provokes doubts among the weak, as 
 to the exercise of a moral government." 
 
 " Because we are ignorant of the cause, to 
 deny the fact, is a common error. In this case, 
 however, I think our doubts will be removed by 
 looking to a future state, when the present ap- 
 parent inequalities in our being will be smoothed 
 away — when the crooked shall be made straight." 
 
 " But is not this doubtfulness of reward a 
 hindrance to our following virtue ?" 
 
 " Not if we look at the whole subject." 
 
 " I confess," I answered, *' though, of course, 
 I admit it as an acknowledged fact, I do not 
 quite understand why there shoidd be even this 
 appearance of injustice."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 1G7 
 
 " To prevent oiir acting from mercenary mo- 
 tives," she said. "For snch would negative 
 the virtue of every act which consists in doing 
 right for its own sake." 
 
 "But surely you believe," I said, "that virtue 
 will sooner or later reap its reward. Does not 
 that behef, according to your theory, nullify 
 virtue ?" 
 
 " Rewards in this life are so uncertain," she 
 replied, " that no man can count on them. Re- 
 vealed religion enters into the question of future 
 rewards, and interferes with our natural notions 
 of mere virtue and its recompense." 
 
 " That is scarcely a fair way of discussing the 
 difficulty," I replied ; " and, though Christianity 
 alters the condition of man, it does not change 
 the truths connected with our moral state." 
 
 " It is, rather, dovetailed into them," she 
 answered ; " but, to speak more correctly what 
 I meant to imply, we can only arrive at a certain 
 expectancy of future rewards tlirough faith. Now 
 this faith alone draws its evidence of rewards 
 not seen, from revelation, where side by side of 
 the promises of recompense, arc recorded, as- 
 surances that our virtue is of itself utterly inca- 
 pable of securing them ; as we have equal grounds 
 for doing so, so we equally receive these doctrines."
 
 1C8 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 *' Tlion yo\i think the assertions of our demerit 
 in Holy AVrit are thus a bahuicc to the effeet on 
 our motives, that promises of reward niij^^ht have?" 
 
 " It appears to me, that tliis design might be 
 traced, for it is as contrary to justice to su])pose 
 there will be no reward, as it would be to virtue, 
 to act merely in reference to future recompense." 
 
 "How can we distinguish them?" I asked. 
 " How can we get rid of the prospect of reward ?" 
 
 " It will not be for oiu* acts, but by the atone- 
 ment of another, that we may gain it." 
 
 *' There must still be a certain merit, to reap 
 the benefit of that atonement ; then it becomes a 
 reward, and om' acts will be in reference to it." 
 
 " No, for by the harmony in Christianity, it is 
 because it is our duty, not because of the re- 
 ward, that we are faithful ; but the prc^scnt in- 
 equality of the requital is also to be admired, for 
 it gives a field for the exercise of patience and 
 contentment, and leads us to look forward to a 
 futiu-e. For the principle of justice is innate in 
 us, and when we perceive its full measiu*e is not 
 given to us here, we turn to some hereafter, when 
 all will be righted according to its laws." 
 
 " It is certainly singular," I replied, " how we 
 arc constantly obliged to look to some Past and 
 some Future, when we think of these things."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 169 
 
 " So, ill all natural trutli," she replied, " we 
 may see the embryo of revealed religion." 
 
 " And yet how men separate them !" I said, 
 "as if natural religion and revelation were op- 
 posing systems — as if there were a different God 
 in each !" 
 
 " I think," she repHed, " preachers of revela- 
 tion neglect too much His aspect as origin of all, 
 in their representation of what we may call his 
 human form, and so they leave a space of natural 
 truth, on which free-thinkers and sceptics build 
 their creed. In this way, there has come an ap- 
 parent schism, in what is really but one universal 
 religion." 
 
 " I wish people w^ould remember that all truth 
 emanates from God, as much as the Christian 
 scheme. But," said I, after a pause, " one re- 
 mark of yours seems to militate against the doc- 
 trine of our insufficiency — you make the perform- 
 ance of faith as a duty obtain for us the benefit 
 of the atonement." 
 
 " I maybe wrong," she replied, "but it seems 
 to me there must be the fulfilment of a condition 
 on our parts, to do so : this condition is faith." 
 
 " Yet some maintain that every movement of 
 religion must emanate from God — that we are 
 powerless." 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 •' And so 1 believe it does ; but that we receive 
 at our birtli the capacity of being faithful, in 
 common with our other powers ; and that after 
 that first gift we are intended of ourselves to use 
 the means of religion given us. This, at least, is 
 my theory. 1 would make faith a work. Our 
 language does not express the difference between 
 the mere acknowledgment of a fact, and that 
 belief which is an act, and this creates confusion 
 in our way of speaking." 
 
 '* We have been discussing very difficult ques- 
 tions," I said, after a pause. 
 
 " Very ; but it is good to exercise the mind, 
 that we may be able to give a reason to ourselves 
 for the faith we profess."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Woodland scenery seems to have a peculiar 
 charm for lovers, and I often met Major Wynd- 
 ham and Catherine sauntering through the forest- 
 paths of Cappagh ; they sometimes asked me to 
 join them, an invitation I seldom accepted, for 
 I knew they were avaricious of private conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Catherine's blue eyes gained a darker, more 
 violet hue than before, and I fancied I could look 
 deeper into them, though perhaps they did not 
 possess such sparkling light as formerly. Her 
 cheek was paler, her walk was slower, and more 
 lingering, and sometimes of a calm May day, 
 as she sat by Major Wyndham, she seemed 
 over-burdened with happiness. And his cold 
 reserve and habitual contempt for the world 
 seemed to disappear, and his laugh often echoed 
 among the trees, as it had never before done. 
 
 After a very hard winter, the spring and sum- 
 mer were unusually fine, and Mrs. More, who 
 thoroughly delighted in promoting the pleasure 
 
 I 2
 
 172 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 of otlifTs, planned all manner of pleasant little 
 fetes and expeditions anion.i^ the mountains. 
 We lived almost together; — a day seldom passed 
 that the Mores did not dine at the rectory, or the 
 llydes at Capi)agh, and I was a constant guest 
 at either house. 
 
 Wg were preparing to start one morning for a 
 distant glen, — it was a service of danger, and they 
 insisted on the doctor being present ! — and busily 
 packing up our luncheon in the well of the Irish 
 (\^r, which was, on such occasions, oiu- favourite 
 vehicle, when Mrs. and Miss Peter drove up, 
 leading Mr. Parks after them, as if in celebration 
 of a triumph. 
 
 It was a disagreeable intciTuption, and our 
 ])arty looked blank enough at first ; but the 
 ludicrousncss of Mr. Parks' expression (piickly 
 (•hanged the annoyance into anmsement. The 
 redness of his eyes had become more visible 
 than before, for liis face had grown paler and 
 longer. ^liss Peter was very smartly dressed, 
 and seemed in overflowing spirits, and quite 
 wound up to bow and accpiiesce in everything. 
 Her mother's grim face '* wore a ghastly smile,'' 
 and she often spoke to Mrs. More of the evil of 
 worldliness, and tlu^ incalculable importance of 
 " the one thing needful." They did not fortunately
 
 CATHAL MORE. 173 
 
 detain us long, as they had some more visits to 
 pay; but, before they went, they entreated the 
 Mores to allow them to have a pic-nic at Cap- 
 pagh, and to join it. Mrs. More, however un- 
 willing, felt it would be churhsh and exclusi\e 
 to refuse, though I detected a look of annoy ane(; 
 on her countenance when Mrs. Peter announced, 
 with an important air, that Lady Louisa Chet- 
 wode had " consented to patronize the affair." 
 
 " Several of your brother officers," she con- 
 tinued, addressing Major Wyndham, " are com- 
 ing, at the instance of my dearest Parks, and it 
 only needs your consent to obtain your unrivalled 
 band for the auspicious occasion." 
 
 " What shall I sav ?" he asked of Mrs. More, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 " I suppose it must be," she replied, " if you 
 like, pray say yes." 
 
 And so it was settled, and the Peter party 
 drove away ; having a good deal disarranged our 
 previous peace of mind, by the announcement 
 of their intended invasion. Nevertheless, we 
 started for the glen, and during the drive, it was 
 determined that all the party should do their 
 best to be agreeable, and Catlial promised to 
 have a cottage in the park arranged for the 
 visitors to dine and dance in, if they wished.
 
 174 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 afterwards. Who would be there, was of course 
 discussed ; and as Mrs. Peter and the friend at 
 whose house she was staying — (a Mrs. Spratt, — ) 
 seemed to be chief managers of the party, some 
 reasonable doubts were expressed, of the class 
 of people who would form it. 
 
 " However," said Mrs. More, " let us, at all 
 events, do our duty as hosts, even though the 
 office has been somewhat forced upon us." 
 
 " Who is this Mrs. Spratt ?" asked Major 
 AVyndham. 
 
 " She is the wife of a distiller, at ; her 
 
 husband is, I believe, very rich, but I don't 
 think any friends of ours have had much inter- 
 course with her." 
 
 " I hear," remarked Cathal, " that these Chet- 
 wodes have taken her up, and she has been 
 giving a series of dinner parties this last month 
 on the strength of it, for every one goes, because 
 Lady Louisa will." 
 
 "llow very Lish !" exclaimed Major Wynd- 
 ham ; " she is English, and that gives her a 
 licence to reform the county society." 
 
 " Half her guests go to laugh," Cathal an- 
 swered ; " my friend O'Neil was at one of these 
 * re-vmions,' as she calls them, last week, but he 
 says he will not go again."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 175 
 
 " Why, what happened ?" we exclaimed. 
 
 " He was seeking a cool place for Miss Peter, 
 after a somewhat violent galop, and they wan- 
 dered into a conservatory which was not lighted. 
 It was before her engagement with Parks was 
 finaUy arranged, and she was enjoying rather a sen- 
 timental flirtation en attendant, when something 
 like a cold, clammy hand touched O'Neil's cheek. 
 He thought the sensation extraordinary, but 
 said nothing. However, as they were repass- 
 ing, his other cheek received a similar salutation." 
 
 " Do you feel anything ?" he asked with a 
 perturbed voice of ^liss Peter, who at the 
 moment was sighing like a furnace. 
 
 "Feel anything!" she replied; "I am a soul 
 made up of feeling." 
 
 This rather silenced O'Neil, who thought he 
 had better ask no more questions, and with a cold 
 shiver, he proposed returning to the light, where, 
 re-assured by a pair of wax-candles, he told his 
 story to some of the party. They determined to 
 storm the ghost en masse ; every one feeling it was 
 a kind of Mystery of Udolpho ; however, numbers 
 made them brave, and they marched in proces- 
 sion, each carrying a candle, to the haunted green- 
 house. O'Neil and Miss Peter, assuming the 
 right of discovery, led the way. And sure
 
 176 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 enoii^^Hi, when they had conic to tlic spot, they 
 were all aghast at the sight of a long white form, 
 with glassy eyes, and disfigured by gaping 
 wounds, hanging from the roof, rig) it across the 
 way." 
 
 " And w hat was it ?" asked Catherine. 
 
 " The mortal remains of a fat i)ig, which had 
 been hung there for convenience. As soon as 
 Miss Peter had found a favourable position for 
 the purpose, she fainted away, with much pomp 
 and circumstance. O'Ncil, however, by the help 
 of a watering-pot, brought her to." 
 
 " What strange people," said Agnes Hyde. 
 
 " Very good-natured vulgarians, but very rich. 
 It is said, that Chetwode owes him some thou- 
 sands, and that it is for that reason that he 
 encourages this kind of society. They were 
 never heard of until this spring." 
 
 " Hayward, I believe, took his wife there," 
 said Major Wyndham ; "I heard some stoiy 
 about preserved cucumbers." 
 
 " I heard of that, too," exclaimed Cathal ; 
 " Mrs. Hay ward praised some preserves there 
 were for dessert, and when she put her hand in 
 tile ])ocket of her carriage coming home, to find 
 a book, she drew it out daubed ^vith sticky sugar 
 syrup. Mrs. Spratt had ordered some of the
 
 CATIJAL MORE. 177 
 
 cucumbers to be sent ; her servants packed them 
 up in brown })aper, and tlie conse([uences were 
 most lamentable to Hay ward's carriage." 
 
 " It was almost a new brougham," said Major 
 Wyndham ; " Haywai'd was very angry." 
 
 " Haut-ton-ville, as they call it, is just tlie kind 
 of place for Mrs. Peter to luxuriate in," said 
 Cathal ; " for the Spratts are so good-natured, she 
 may stay there for ever, and they will manage tlie 
 wedding-breakfast for her daughter." 
 
 " What a female Napoleon she is," said Major 
 Wyndham ; " her tactics are wonderful. Why it 
 was rather brave, her proposing this party to you, 
 Mrs. More." 
 
 " Shall we ask any of our own friends ?" asked 
 Cathal. 
 
 '* I think not, we had best leave it entirely to the 
 proposers ; and if the guests are pleasant peo})le, 
 so nmch the better; if not, on them be the blame." 
 
 As she spoke, we drove into the village ; I was set 
 down at my own door, and I did not see my friends 
 again until the day of ]\lrs. Peter's party, which 
 they had pressed me to join. At the unfashion- 
 able hour of three o'clock, I found myself witii 
 Agnes Hyde, beginning to look out for the visitors ; 
 Major Wyndham and Catherine were, she told 
 me, reading " The Excursion " together ; and did 
 
 I 3
 
 178 CATHAl, MOHK. 
 
 not intend, until it was absolutely necessary, to 
 join the rest of the party. 
 
 At'tt r live o'cloek, Mrs. More thouj^dit shr must 
 have mistaken the day Mrs. Peter had named for 
 a morn in// party ; but at six a smoking tandem 
 appeared, driven b) a very gaily-dressed lady, 
 who carried an eye-glass, without setting, and 
 stared about her a good deal. 
 
 " Where is Chetwode ? and what can have be- 
 come of the horde that were behind usr" 1 heard 
 her ask. 
 
 "Here they are, notwithstanding the pace we 
 came at," said her companion, whom I recognised 
 as Captahi Ilayward ; and a (hag, a britschka, 
 and two hack cars came in sight. 
 
 " I'm glad they've come, for some one nnist 
 liavc m trod need me to these ])eople," said Lady 
 Louisa Chetwode, for it was her. 
 
 Miss Peter and Mr. Parks w( re seated together 
 on the highest pinnacle of the drag ; she looked 
 far more at her ease than he did ; for on such 
 occasions, I have heard, his chronic failing of the 
 head, came sadly against him. The rest of the 
 vehicles were crowded by ofhcers and young 
 ladies, whose faces were new to me ; however, that 
 was not to be wondered at, as 1 seldom go beyond 
 the bounds of my visiting district.
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 179 
 
 Mrs. More exerted herself to receive them 
 civilly ; the carriages and horses were sent to 
 the stables, and a walk was proposed round 
 the immediate pleasure-grounds, while dinner was 
 being prepared. Mrs. More guided Lady Louisa, 
 but so quiet a companion did not content the 
 " Uonnc;' and when she came to the steep grass 
 slope, which slanted down the glen to the river, 
 she proposed a general run down it, in the manner 
 of Greenwich fair. 
 
 All the party, even fat Mrs. Spratt, and stiff 
 Mrs. Peter, thought it was a new-fashioned game, 
 and as such, they felt obliged to join. Of course 
 Mrs. ^lore did not, and I stayed with her, but 
 every one else followed Lady Louisa. In the race 
 poor Mr. Parks was next to her, and, just as they 
 reached the edge of the river, I observed her add 
 to his already unmanageable impetus, by a slight, 
 and apparently accidental ])usli. 
 
 Li he went, splashing and floundering, for the 
 water was nearly four feet deep at the spot ; and 
 while Cathal was trying good-naturedly to flsh him 
 out. Lady Louisa, when she had sufficiently anuised 
 herself at the sight of his distress, walked away 
 with an air of graceful imconcern. 
 
 Poor man ! he was in a de})lorable state of wet 
 when he landed, and divided between anger and
 
 180 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 fear ; liowevcr, a change of clothes, and some hot 
 wine and water, enablid him to join us at dinner, 
 within half an hour. 
 
 It was such a dinner as is usual on such occa- 
 sions, when it is eaten in a rural cottage ; but 
 mifortunately, everybody had brought a cold ham 
 and cheese-cakes, most of which had suffered on 
 the road. Happily, Mrs. More's larder was at 
 hand, so such misfortunes could be remedied, and 
 the general good appetite did not seem to object 
 to the plentiful garnishing of flies and spiders 
 to every dish. 
 
 Before we sat down, ]\Iajor Wyndham and 
 Catherine joined us, as unobservedly as they 
 could — not, however, unspied by ^Irs. Peter, who 
 delivered a very formal address on the beauty of 
 youthful affection, expressing at the same time 
 her trust and hope, that the " one thing needful " 
 woidd never be forgotten by them. 
 
 Major Wyndham gravely thanked her, ob- 
 serving that to do so, he had but to follow her 
 and Miss Peter's example. " A late occasion," 
 he added, with a comical deference of manner, 
 '' had proved their sincerity and earnestness in 
 piu'suing this great object of their lives." 
 
 The smile that broke over Cathal's face as his 
 friend spoke, and the glinnner of irrepressible
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 181 
 
 amusement on Catherine's, quite disconcerted 
 Mrs. Peter, and her daughter looked for a mo- 
 ment uncomfortable ; but changing the subject 
 she tiu-ned to Mr. Parks, with a complacent smile, 
 (he had been carefully set by her side, by Mrs. 
 Peter,) and said — 
 
 "Do, love, eat some pepper with your potatoes; 
 you must let me nurse you after your accident." 
 
 " I feel so ill ;" he murmured, " I wish I had 
 never come to Ireland." 
 
 Mrs. More, with as little delay as possible, 
 made a signal for the ladies to adjom-n, while the 
 room was being cleared and got ready for a dance ; 
 and as they left it, I saw that Lady Louisa 
 offered her, Avith the kindest and most deferential 
 manner, her assistance in walking up the steep 
 hill leading from the cottage. Mrs. More seemed 
 a little surprised ; however, when we joined them 
 afterwards by the river-side, they seemed to have 
 found an interesting subject for conversation. In 
 truth. Lady Louisa was a person of some talent, 
 and a great deal of good nature. She had mar- 
 ried when very young ; and previously, when 
 Major Wyndham had admired her, she was hi 
 manner as quiet and lady-like as need be. Iler 
 husband, however, introduced her to the fast 
 society of which he was a member, and had re-
 
 182 CATilAL MOKE. 
 
 quired Iut to adoj)! their customs and pursuits. 
 What she would have herself refused to do, 
 became, under her husband's auspices, she 
 thought, allowable, and her talrnt soon gave her 
 a first place in his sit. Constant dissipation 
 blunted before long the feminineness of her 
 character, and with it, the respect and love for 
 lier husband, which had been the means of her 
 deterioration. In short, she became an untiring 
 flirt ; and longing for some fresh excitement, and 
 to achieve an apparently hn possible victory, she 
 resolved to draw her former admirer, Major 
 Wyndham, from Catherine, strengthened, pcrha[)s, 
 in her resolution by some mortifying recollections 
 of his former neglect to herself. 
 
 She was extremely pretty, and her small Ilcbe 
 face seemed to promise an amiable, feminine 
 character. Whatever she attempted she did well ; 
 and from being perfectly self-possessed and fear- 
 less, she could hunt and even shoot on certain 
 occasions, better than most men. When one 
 looked at her small hand and taper fingers, loading 
 a gun, one almost forgot that it was an instru- 
 ment of death ; and even the dress which Cathal 
 had described with so nuich disgust, did not look 
 masculine on her, for she possessed the peculiar 
 charm that belongs to some, of casting a grace
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 183 
 
 over all her acts, that made them only the more 
 fascmating for then- singularity — charming the 
 very man who, away from her glamour, would be 
 the first to condemn them. 
 
 Her rooms at Chetwode House were arranged 
 with a perfect taste even ; the whip and spurs, 
 hanging over the chimney-piece of her boudoir, 
 scarcely seeming out of place, for, they were a 
 foil to her, making one smile, to think of such 
 a slight, graceful person using them. But though 
 her chief piu^suit w^as admii*ation, she could be 
 really pleasing even to old ladies ; and as Mrs. 
 i\Iore ever sought for good in her companions, 
 and tried to draw out their best qualities, we 
 found them apparently, mutually pleased, when 
 I\Iajor Wyndham and I met them in their walk 
 l)y the river side. — He asked, in a low voice, 
 where he should find Catherine. 
 
 ** You must not monopolize her to night," she 
 rephed, smiling, " or you will incur some remai'ks 
 from Mrs. Peter." 
 
 " I do not wonder at your annoyance, Major 
 AVyndham," said Lady Louisa, in a low sweet 
 voice. He started, the sound was so different 
 from what he had expected — so like what he had 
 been attracted by six years before. 
 
 '' You know these beautiful grounds," she con-
 
 184- C'ATIIAI, MOHK. 
 
 tinned ; " will you hv, my f^uidc to tin; watcitall ? 
 for Mrs. More sccnis fatigiuid. If we meet Miss 
 Hyde, you must let me make her acquaintance." 
 
 Her voice and jnaniu r were irresistible, and 
 with a flattered air he accompanied her ; Mrs. 
 More withdrew to rest for a short time, and I 
 sauntered about, observing the difterent groups as 
 they w^andercd about, Watteau-like, on the shaven 
 lawns. 
 
 But, as was often the case, I fell into a reverie ; 
 and to indidge it undisturbed, I turned down a 
 terrace which ran parallel to the river, and sat 
 down by the stream, to listen, after the hot June 
 day, to its fresh sound, and to the distant voices, 
 which, gaining harmony from the twilight, echoed 
 clearly, in the still evening. 
 
 "Amongst them I could distinguish Major 
 AVyndham's and Lady Louisa Chetwode's, as they 
 came towards me from the more distant w^oods, 
 wliich they had been exploring. They spoke of 
 the past, and she seemed to be excusing herself 
 to him as I heard her say — 
 
 " The world's harsh judgment has I know 
 fallen upon me, but I do not deserve it ; j/ou can 
 understand my utter repugnance to the scenes in 
 which I am forced to act a part ; you know what 
 I was."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 185 
 
 " Do not remind me of the past, of what might 
 have been," he said hastily ; " but even now my 
 earnest sympathy may avail — we may still be 
 friends. Why, why did I beheve London reports 
 six years ago ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 I rose, that they might see me ; for I per- 
 ceived that their conversation was private, and 
 of a kind I could not trust myself patiently to 
 hear. I was turning away, when I saw that 
 Catherine Hyde had been standing silently a little 
 behind me, and by her pale, startled look, I saw 
 she had heard, as I did, what Major Wyndham 
 had said. — She seemed growing faint, and I an- 
 xiously offered her my arm, but not in time to 
 save her from sinking on the bank where I had 
 been sitting. At the same moment Major Wynd- 
 ham appeared ; he started when he saw her, for 
 the truth flashed upon him ; and I shall never 
 forget the deep sorrow, the misery of his expres- 
 sion, as he leant passionately over her. 
 
 Lady Louisa walked slowly and musingly away; 
 perhaps she was asking herself if the ])l('asure of 
 eocpietry was equivalent to the pain she had caused. 
 
 At last, Catherine somewhat recovered. I mo- 
 tioned Major Wyndham to stand a little l)a('k. 
 
 '* What has liappened?" she asked. 1 w as ai)out 
 to say something that might lead her thoughts
 
 186 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 IVoni the cause of licr illness, but lie started for- 
 ward inii)atiently. 
 
 "It is I, Catherine, 1, wlio am unworthy of 
 you ; I scarcely dare; hope for forgiveness, and 
 yet if a life of atonement " 
 
 She was for a nionunt silent, but collecting 
 herself, she said — 
 
 " You might again repeat those words. Major 
 Wyndham ; I will no longer tax your kindness." 
 She spoke with apparent coldness, but she was 
 pale with the effort. He seemed surprised at 
 her calmness, and tiu'ned away with a look of 
 deep suffering. 
 
 " Miss Hyde," I said, "I fear for your strength ; 
 let me take you home." 
 
 She mechanically took my arm, and we si- 
 lently w^alked towards the house. On the way, 
 we met Mrs. More, and I (piiekly explained I lie 
 the cause, as delicately as I could, to her. She 
 felt that it was necessary to draw a veil, if pos- 
 sible, over the unfortunate occurn^nce ; so she 
 forced herself to return to the painful society of 
 Lady Louisa Chetwode and her companions, 
 leaving Catherine under my charge. 
 
 She begged to be alone ; and as she really had 
 much recovered, I left Ikt, and joined tlu' rest of 
 the party. They were dancing, to the nuisic of
 
 CATHAL MORE. 187 
 
 a band ; and, except for the absence of Major 
 Wyndhani, and Agnes, \vlu) had gone to her 
 sister, all were as I had left them. Lady Louisa 
 looked softer and more fascinating than ever, 
 and I heard her account for the Miss llydes 
 and ^lajor A\ yndliam's absence, by some careless 
 remark about ' lovers quarrels !' " 
 
 " Can heartlessness really be carried so far ?'* 
 I thought ; and many fancies crowded into my 
 mind, as I tried to account for the selfishness at 
 every hand. 
 
 I stood leaning against the door, paying little 
 heed to the dancers, as they flitted before me, 
 when I was struck by a naive remark from 
 Mrs. Spratt's eldest daughter — 
 
 " How 1 should like to live in a drum !" 
 
 *' Oh dear ! it makes my head ache so," her 
 partner, Mr. Parks, replied. 
 
 *' How nice it will be," whispered to him 
 Miss Peter, who had taken his arm, the moment 
 the waltz had concluded ; " we can be married, 
 Amy," for so she abbreviated his name, ** on the 
 same day as Major Wyndhani and Catherine 
 Hyde." 
 
 '* I was just about to submit to your atten- 
 tion," said Mrs. Peter, in her most dignitied 
 manner, to Mrs. More, " the advantau:es which
 
 188 CAT HAL MORE. 
 
 would result fi'oiu the unious of our two dear 
 ones being fixed tor the same day." 
 
 It was a paiutul discussion tor Mrs. More, 
 and she replied — 
 
 " I do not know Major W'vudhani's or Cathe- 
 rine's wisJK^s on the subjeet. It is possible that 
 their intended marriage may not take place at 
 once." 
 
 " Indeed !" drawled ]\Irs. Peter, her leaden 
 eyes opening to their full width, as if eager to 
 liear of some untoward event. *' I always thought," 
 she added, " Major Wyndham was not quite to 
 be depended on." 
 
 '* I am at a loss to understand you," said 
 Mrs. More, (piietly. 
 
 " I should (piite feel for ])oor Catherine," said 
 Mrs. Peter. 
 
 "Ah, j)oor thing!" interrui)te(l her daughter. 
 "Has she met Avitli any disappohitment?" 
 
 Mrs. More looked thoroughly annoyed, and, 
 as it was growing late, she rose, and with a some- 
 what distant bow, she bade the company good 
 night. 
 
 Before she had been gone many mimites, Mrs. 
 Peter had spread a report that " Major Wynd- 
 ham's engagement was hrokeu off," and tli(> j)arty 
 broke u[) with uuich gossip and whis|)ering on
 
 CATHAL MORE. 189 
 
 the subject ; Lady Louisa Chetwode smiling, with 
 a pecuharly amiable expression, at the various 
 reports that were circulated. 
 
 While they were getting their carnages, and 
 arranging the order of their departure, I hurried 
 up to the house, and on the way I was overtaken 
 by Cathal, who hastily asked me what had given 
 rise to Mrs. Peter's impertinence. 
 
 " I saw Wyndham," he continued, " looking 
 very unhappy, in my study, but I had not time 
 to ask him the cause." 
 
 '* He has been much to blame," said I ; " in- 
 deed, I hardly know how he can repair the mis- 
 chief he has done." 
 
 " How — what was it ?" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Some words about his past and present pros- 
 pects," I replied, " which he spoke to Lady 
 Louisa Chetwode, by accident Catherine over- 
 heard them." 
 
 '' And she is very angry, of course — we must 
 try and soften matters," he replied ; " he seems 
 heartily sorry." 
 
 1 found Catherine still pale and ill, sutiVriug 
 much ; I prescribed some little soothing draught, 
 and while I was preparing it from the materials 
 I found in Mrs. More's well-stocked medicine 
 chest, a loud knock sounded at the hall door, and
 
 190 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 wc licard a voice asking for a liglit for Lady 
 Louisa Chetwode's cigarette. 
 
 I waited till the last sound of the carriage wheels 
 had died away, when I took my leave, sorrowing 
 much over this unfortunate party, and making 
 many reflections on the injury that may ensue 
 from the smallest deviation from right. Had 
 he but thought, I said to myself, he could not 
 have so foolishly erred.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 191 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Catherine Hyde was not very hard-hearted, 
 and Major Wyndham soon convinced her that his 
 conduct had been but a momentary forgetfulness, 
 and one of which he heartily repented. Mr. Hyde, 
 however, was seriously alarmed, and he and Mrs. 
 More determined not to part with their beloved 
 charge until the character of her betrothed had 
 been more fully tested. Their marriage was put 
 off for at least a year, notwithstanding the most 
 vehement remonstrances from Major Wyndham ; 
 still he was not exiled from Cappagh, and he re- 
 ceived a general invitation to come there when- 
 ever he got leave of absence. Of course, he did 
 not visit Chetwode House, nor join in any society 
 in which Lady Louisa was likely to appear 
 during his i)robation, he frequented Mrs. Morc's 
 society more closely than ever, and he seemed 
 to gain proportionately in strength of character 
 and refinement of mind. It was during the 
 autumn of the summer which I have described, 
 that the first nimour of the potato blight was
 
 192 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 hi'iird. — Well do 1 rcniciiiljcr the arrival of that 
 startling news. 
 
 TluTC was a ])arty at Ca|)pa<;h for the partridge- 
 shooting in SeptcQibcT, and one morning, while 
 we were reading our letters, a Mr. Daly from 
 Galway read a j)aragraph aloud, taken from the 
 re[)ort of his steward. It ran thus : — " A sin- 
 gular blight has appeared in your field of po- 
 tatoes, partieularly where the ground was most 
 manm'cd. I never saw^ anything like it before 
 nor did any of the neighbours ; the stalks are 
 black and withered, without there having been 
 severe frosts ; the roots are spotted with balck, 
 and have a bad smell when boik'd." 
 
 '' That is curious," said Cathal, '' I will tell 
 Reilly to examine mine." 
 
 " Oh it is only some partial failure," said Mr. 
 Daly. " 1 am a most unlucky fiirmer." 
 
 The potato croj) is always a matter of deep 
 interest to Irishmen, though from its healthiness, 
 and immense productiveness, we had got some- 
 what careless about its management ; and none of 
 the ptu:ty were altogether inattentive to the re- 
 port, though it was considered, according to Mr. 
 Daly's suggestion, only a partial injury ; so we all 
 sallied forth, first to the garden, and then to the 
 farm, to judge for ourselves. In the garden they
 
 CATHAL MORE. 193 
 
 were completely withered, and some roots which 
 had just been dug, quite answered the descrip- 
 tion that had been written of them. 
 
 For the first few days, no one seemed to ap- 
 preciate the great misfortune which had befallen 
 Ireland. Before a week was over, however, the 
 papers teemed with reports from all parts of the 
 land, of the fearful disease which had come like 
 a plague on the subsistence of the nation. All 
 manner of prophecies and strange coincidences 
 filled the thoughts of those who were supersti- 
 tiously predisposed, while active and stirring 
 minds sought on every side a remedy for the evil. 
 
 The resources of chemistry were tried ; its pro- 
 fessors wearied themselves with experiments on 
 the diseased plant. Many pam])hlets and public 
 letters were written, but all in vain. Men's 
 minds failed to discover the cause, or check the 
 ill effects of this supernatural injury. I call it 
 supernatural, — for when an event happens which 
 is totally unaccountable and incomprehensibh — 
 which plunges a nation into uncxainj)le(l ruin, and 
 which cannot be even ])alliate(l by the inventions 
 of man, in this age of many inventors — one nuist 
 be sceptical hideed, and blind, not to see the 
 Divine handwriting on the wall. 
 
 As, however, natiu*al causes must be examined, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 \0i CATnAL MORE. 
 
 and human palliations tried in every case, men 
 eagerly attempted to undo the misehief. Th(» 
 potatoes were kiln-dried, limed, made into stareh . 
 hut tile disease still spread, and we were at last 
 forced to confess that it was incurable. 
 
 Long-headed men saw anxiously, how fearfully 
 (Midangered the country was by this failure of its 
 chief produce, and the chief support of its swarm- 
 ing jMipulation. 
 
 Mrs. More was one of the most active hi trying 
 to remedy the evU of the potato disease, and in 
 teaching the people how best to procure and pre- 
 pare the grain which was partly substituted for 
 the former food. She was very anxious when she 
 pictured a repetition of the failure — but she 
 trusted that there would not probably be another. 
 It had, perhaps, she thought, been caused by 
 some hard frost, some baleful fog. Even if, as 
 some said, it was the work of an insect, it was 
 most likely, she hoped, but a temporary blight , 
 besides, new, and strange, and, therefore, alarming 
 as the loss was, there was still much left. The 
 early-sown plants had yielded more than half 
 thcnr due produce. 
 
 We had not then learned the bitter experience 
 of the successive and unaccountable annihila- 
 tions of the crop. In 1815, it was a matter of
 
 CATHAL MORE. 195 
 
 alarmed forethought and curious inquuy ; and the 
 great darkness which afterwards fell upon tlu' 
 nation, was then but a black shadow in the 
 distance, which few men regarded ; and, if they 
 did, they calcidated, with the pride of human in- 
 genuity, on being able to avert its nearer approach. 
 Cathal that year received his usual rents, and 
 exerted himself to give labour to those of the 
 villagers who had been dependant, either on con- 
 acre potatoes, or on the produce of their own 
 gardens.... He freely spent any sm*plus of Mr. 
 SchelUng's loan which remained, to this end ; and 
 both his estate and the poor were benefitted by 
 the works which he eagerly conducted. He made 
 all his own plans and arrangements ; and in the 
 busy occupation into which he was thus forced, 
 by his good-hearted anxiety for the welfare of his 
 people, he felt a more hearty pleasure than he had 
 ever before known. His afi'airs, too, were in a 
 thriving condition, and his estate was much re- 
 lieved by the reduction of incumbrances. His 
 hands were loosed, and he worked liard in active 
 usefulness. In return for his fir.st remittance of 
 mterest, he received the kindest letters from Mr. 
 Schelling, and many suggestions to assist liini in 
 the practical parts of his improvements. Some- 
 times, he felt a conscience sting, when he
 
 11)6 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 reflected on the condition his friend had an- 
 nexed ; but it had never been claimed — possibly 
 never would be. And, in the mean time, he was 
 adding to, doubhng, the well-bcung of all those 
 about him. Surely he was, he thought, right. His 
 mother never spoke on the subject of his con- 
 nexion with iMr. Schelling. Once, wlien I intro- 
 iluced it, she tohl me she was astonished at Mr. 
 Schelhng's dehiy ; it w^as strange, she said, his 
 liaving made so strict a condition, and yet not 
 to have made any use* of her son's consent to it ; 
 and she feared that he was but waiting for a good 
 opportunity to carry out his purpose. As thne 
 w ore on, even Mrs. ]\lore became less fearful ; she 
 began to allow that she might have done the 
 Unitarian injustice, and the sight of all the good 
 her son w^as elfecting, blunted even her acute 
 judgment. Besides, she w^as occupied with many 
 thoughts of Catherine and Major Wyndham's 
 iiappiness. It is time I should tell the reader 
 somewhat about them. AV'hen first he heard of 
 the sentence pronounced on him by Catherine's 
 father, and Mrs. More, it was some moments 
 before he coidd risk himself to incpiire if it was 
 to be a year of absolute exile, or whether he might 
 see, and plead forgiveness from Catherine herself. 
 "No!" said Mrs. More, who was Mr. Hyde's
 
 CATHAL MORE. 107 
 
 deputy ; for he, wise man ! knew little of such 
 matters — "No!" said Mrs. ]\Iore ; " your regi- 
 ment is quartered near. You are likely, T ]\o[h\ 
 to see us often here ; and Mr. Hyde has tliought 
 it better that there should be no restraint on your 
 intercoiu-se, as an acquaintance with his daughter, 
 but he trusts to your honour, Major Wyndham," 
 she added, gravely and anxiously, " that you will 
 not take advantage of any past engagement in 
 your manner to her." 
 
 "Past engagement '."repeated Major Wyndham, 
 bitterly ; " and for a moment's fault, is our en- 
 gagement to be broken off ?'' 
 
 " A moment's fault has caused Catherine many 
 hours of suffering," said Mrs. More. 
 
 "Does she forgive me?" he asked, eagerly. 
 
 ''You must learn that from herself presently," 
 she answered good-naturedly. 
 
 After a long pause, Major Wyndham again ad- 
 dressed her, with a voice weak from contending 
 pride and emotion. 
 
 *' You have taught me more than I ever thought 
 of before," he said ; " you have led me towards 
 th(; light ; this is a different atmosphere from the 
 world; one breathes a new hfe," he continued. 
 "' Will you guide me, will you help me to become
 
 198 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 like you — will you make lac worthy of Cathe- 
 rine r 
 
 " My dear Major Wyndlmm, I can do but little; 
 it is for yourself ; to be watchful to guard against 
 the evil influences which arc at work on all 
 sides." 
 
 " I will spend every moment 1 can with you," 
 he exclaimed ; " evil influences lose their power 
 in your presence/' 
 
 " This is strange from yon, Major Wyndham ; 
 you, a man of the world, sjxiaking so, to a humble 
 old wT)man." 
 
 *' You are the first to speak truth to me ; you 
 have show^n me the depths of my nature ; every 
 one else seems material — ignorant, compared to 
 you. 
 
 " Do not exalt me," she answTred, smiling , 
 " for, when you knew me better, you would see 
 that I was nought, and your belief in goodness 
 luight sufter ; but look to Truth itself — Tnith, as 
 it gliunners in all Creation, nay, shines in some 
 creations ; look through the dark shadows of 
 visible created things, to the spirit meanings 
 within. The senses are a veil before the soul ; 
 we see the veil, and think we are very wise, be- 
 cause we ])erceive its texture and colour ; but the 
 soul looks through and beyond it, to the clear
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 199 
 
 light, which is hidden from our senses. Learn 
 and know these things, Major Wyndhani." 
 
 " Under your tutelage," he added, earnestly. 
 
 " Under the tutehige of a higher power," slit 
 answered, reverently. There was a pause of some 
 moments. 
 
 " I have your promise," she said at length . 
 " that you will only be to Catherine as an ordi- 
 nary acquaintance, until the yeai* be over." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, dreamily ; and then start- 
 ing, he continued in his earnest manner, "It is 
 a just punislimeut" 
 
 And true to their promises, he and Catherine, 
 when they met were as strangers to each other, 
 except somtimes w^hen his earnest stedfast eye 
 fixed itself on her, and her pulses fluttered under 
 the glance. He was often at Cappagh, nearly 
 always spending his Sundays there, and he had 
 many conversations with my revered friend. 1 
 would that I could record some of them ; but 1 
 have not space, and they might weary the reader. 
 
 And, by degrees, the same man whom 1 had 
 Hrst met in the fullness of his supercilious con- 
 tempt, learned to accompany Mrs. More, an 
 active assistant in her charities ; and he who 
 before, with scorn, called charity hypocrisy, and
 
 200 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 treated tlic ])oor as savages, was now foremost in 
 doing practical good. 
 
 At first, lie vigorously began the change, as a 
 sort of penance for his folly towards Lady Louisa 
 Chetwode ; but afterwards, to do good, became 
 his ha])it and his pleasure. I need scarcely say 
 Catherine's love for him grew with his growth in 
 right, and strengthened with his strength. As 
 for him, the more he learned to value virtue and 
 goodness, the more he appreciated her in whom 
 they shone so brightly. It was a wise step that 
 Mrs. More and Mr. Hyde had taken to promote 
 Catherine's welfare, for it was wise to give a 
 year's education to Major Wyndham ; it Avas 
 wise not to drive him in his disappointment to 
 the world's school, but to keep him, as they did, 
 amongst themselves. 
 
 There are some, in this world of mistakes, who 
 think that reformation of a man's character is a 
 moment's work, and who imagine the excitement 
 ol' half-an-hour's fanaticism a complete conver- 
 sion. If such were true, how easy change 
 would be — a single field-preaching would effect 
 it ; but it is a life-long work. To use again 
 Mrs. More's simile — one must travel through the 
 many shades which change night into day, 
 before we can even approach the pure sunlight
 
 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 201 
 
 of our perfect state ; and during the journey, we 
 are in constant danger of turning away from thr 
 distant brightness, and phniging again into 
 darkness. 
 
 Mrs. More earnestly pointed the way out to 
 him ; he saw her footprints before him, and fol- 
 lowed them. 
 
 So it was not an unhappy time, this year of 
 delay, and it passed quickly over ; — as quick the 
 time seemed to Major Wynclliam, as his first 
 sleep is to a fevered man. Christmas season came 
 round ; and on Christmas eve we were assembled 
 at Cappagh at breakfast, occupied in the pleasant 
 work of reading letters and news, of the warm 
 and comfortable hue which tinges all the affairs 
 of life at that season. 
 
 '' A letter from Schelling !" exclaimed Cathal ; 
 and his brow flushed for a moment. 
 
 Mrs. More looked very grave ; it seemed as if 
 the frost had made its way through the well- 
 closed windows, for every one seemed to feel a 
 sudden chill. 
 
 " He says he will look in upon us here, if we 
 will give him a night's lodghig," said Cathal ; 
 *' he is coming from his estate in the county'' — 
 " Does he brinGf his son with him ?" asked 
 
 o 
 
 Mrs. More. 
 
 K 3
 
 202 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 ** 1 suppose SO ; 1 believe they are ([\iite iii- 
 sej)arable companions," he answered. 
 
 Neither Cathal nor his mother spoke more ; 
 and breakfast was finished with an uncomfort- 
 abhi constraint. Immediately after, Cathal went 
 to his study, as he said he had a great deal to 
 do, and Major Wyndham, Mrs. More, and 1, 
 adjourned to the drawing room. She was silent 
 and absent for some moments, but at last she 
 said to him, '' You nuist wonder what made ray 
 son and me so suddenly grave." 
 
 " Something about this i\Ir. Schelhng I per- 
 ceive," he replied. 
 
 She in a few words explained the matter, of 
 which neither she nor her son had ever spoken 
 to him before, and begged him to use his 
 influence with Cathal. 
 
 " T will, indeed," he replied, earnestly ; "for 
 you seem certainly right." 
 
 ** Yo\i used not to speak so," I said, in some 
 surprise. 
 
 " Major Wyndham was then an advocate of so- 
 c^nlled liberality," said Mrs. More, looking affec- 
 tionately at him ; " he was not enlisted on the 
 side of our church." 
 
 He was silent for a moment. " Do vou
 
 CATHAL MORE. 203 
 
 know," he said, " it looks like incoiisisteiicy — 
 this change of mine." 
 
 " I think the law of consistency," answered 
 Mrs. More, " has been invented by society, for 
 its own convenience. I do not think, in trutli, 
 that consistency is praiseworthy, or inconsis- 
 tency deserves blame ; it is only when we adhere 
 to right, that we do rightly. 
 
 " Why then is it so often made an excuse for 
 wrong ?" asked Major Wyndham. 
 
 " Because it is for the convenience of men to 
 know each other's opinions, and so they have 
 branded inconsistency, which may be a virtue, 
 as shameful ; we constantly meet these erroneous 
 laws in society, because we look not beyond 
 present convenience." 
 
 " But it is singular, its being so universal a 
 rule, and so generally received.'' 
 
 "In human ideas and laws we may often trace 
 a defaced likeness of some perfect truth ; and in 
 this yearning after consistency we may perceive 
 a longing for that perfection, which is indeed 
 consistent, because it is immutable." 
 
 *' Do you think," said Major Wyndham, " that 
 
 even our evil passions have their origin in good ?" 
 
 " I am convinced," replied Mrs. More, " that 
 
 sin has originated nothing, for the evil spirit hns
 
 204 CATIIAL MOUE. 
 
 no creative power ; he but tiinis and twists our 
 original good into sin/' 
 
 " You do not then ])eHeve that there are ab- 
 stract principles of sin combating those of virtue, 
 the spirit of avio-ice, for instance, fighting against 
 that of charity/' 
 
 " No ! I think there is no distinct abstraction 
 of sin ; and, to quote your example, I imagine 
 avarice to be but a malformation of the right in- 
 stinct of self-love/' 
 
 '' But you, who so highly exalt self-love — who 
 make it to consist of a right ap})reciation of 
 tilings future as well as present — how can you 
 make avarice of mere gold a part of that future- 
 scanning principle ?" 
 
 " I said a diseased })art ; avarice is, I think, tiic 
 abortion of the love of wealth. Now love of 
 wealth I hold to be in a certain measure blame- 
 less/' 
 
 '• Indeed !" he exclaimed, with an astonished 
 air ; " and do you, who are an advocate for con- 
 stant contemplation of what is beyond the world — 
 do you think the pursuit of wealth, whicli will 
 perish with us, right/' 
 
 '' Do not run away with tlie subject, my dear 
 frirnd, and prepare yourself for a very startling 
 observation of mine. — I think before every con-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 205 
 
 sideration, religious, reasonable, or charitable, in 
 the mind of man, exists the desire for all neces- 
 saries of life ; for how coiJd he be either of the 
 three without them ?" 
 
 " Granting that, desire for necessaries is very 
 different from love of wealth." 
 
 " Not so different as you imagine, because who 
 shall define what are necessaries ?" 
 
 " Why, food and clothing." 
 
 " So we say when we are providing for pau- 
 pers; and yet we know there are many things 
 besides, so desirable to us, that they become ne- 
 cessary to our well being. Love of wealth is the 
 natm*al desire to supply these wants." 
 
 "But love of wealth produces so many evils." 
 
 " I am not speaking of what it produces ; of 
 course, the moment it tempts us to commit any 
 wrong action, it is to be blamed ; but I think pure 
 love of wealth is a right instinct, for it is a mean 
 to the great end. Perfection." 
 
 " Perfection is the ocean to the river of your 
 thoughts.'* 
 
 " It should be the ocean to the river of all 
 human tendencies," said Mrs. More. 
 
 " But what has the desire of earthly riches to 
 say to a spirituahzed perfection ?" 
 
 " As much as any of the human instincts,
 
 206 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 wliicli all tend, 1 think, if rightly followed, to 
 good ; in this love of wealth we see a materialized 
 desire of advancement, an indefinite hankering 
 after that state of quiet and joyful contemplation 
 which we left at our ftdl. Money gives us, when 
 rightly gained and rightly used, a measure of 
 this quietness, though it be imperfect, and it 
 provides us with time and the means for pursu- 
 ing the great work of our lives. It is for these 
 secret reasons that I think, unknown to ourselves, 
 we follow so diligently, often without a defined 
 object, the gain of wealth." 
 
 " But you condemn our cultivating those tastes 
 which must perish with us ; surely the love of 
 gold will be the first to go." 
 
 " Not the love of what wealth can do. It is 
 not like time and space, a slang of mortality ; the 
 notions of value belong to every phase of our 
 being, unless its present powers be entirely over- 
 turned. Gold is made their imperfect represen- 
 tative on earth, but though it will perish, they 
 will not ; money is, I think, when rightly used, 
 a type of our future wealth." 
 
 " Then you think our hankering after money 
 in this state, is a shadow of our innate desire for 
 perfection in a future." 
 
 ** Yes ! for wealth is to men, if rightlv used,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 207 
 
 an immediate beneiit, though it is unsatisfying 
 in itself, because it is only a stepping-stone to a 
 higher good." 
 
 " But can it lead to a higher good ?" 
 
 " When rightly employed, I think so ; for it 
 frees us from a great part of the curse of labour — 
 it enables us to cultivate our imagination and 
 the powers of our mind ; and it is, besides, a lever 
 of doing good. Oh yes ! wealth, I think, is 
 desirable, legitimately so, as a mean to the end 
 of our improvement." 
 
 " Then would you say that every taste and 
 wish of ours is in reference to perfection ?" 
 
 "I do, though it seems often otherwise ; and 
 this I think also is the great division between us 
 and the lower animals. It is not reason that 
 separates us so completely from them ; it is this 
 tendency of all our powers to return to a higher 
 state from whence we have fallen." 
 
 " Well ! we have strayed far from our original 
 conversation," said j\Iajor Wyndham. " I think 
 from what your son says, that Mr. Schelling will 
 be here about Thursday or Friday." 
 
 *' And what do you think of Cathal's entangle- 
 ment with him ?" 
 
 " It is a pity, as Mr. Schelling seems a violent 
 Unitarian ; but perhaps he is rcaUy a gentleman
 
 208 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 and a man of honour, and may not ])ress tlie 
 point." 
 
 ** You agree with mv tliin in thinking my son 
 is mistaken." 
 
 ** Your teaching," he answered affectionately, 
 " has shown me that he is ; if I have any in- 
 fluence over him, I will try and avert the mischief 
 you fear." 
 
 What could Major Wyndham do against the 
 clever, unscrupiUous Unitarian ? little indeed, as 
 Mrs. More feared ; and yet she was grateful to 
 him, and she appreciated' his straiglft -forward 
 English character, cleared and ini])roved as it had 
 been diu-ing the past year.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Mr. Schelling and his son arrived on the 
 following Friday. I was asked to meet them ; 
 but Major Wyndham Avas obKged to be absent 
 on some regimental duties during the whole of 
 their visit, as he was the officer in charge of the 
 
 regiment at . The travellers were late, 
 
 and Cathal went to the hall-door often to listen 
 for their carriage wheels, with an impatience un- 
 usual in him. He was irritable and gloomy, too, 
 and seemed disinclined to join in our conversa- 
 tion, so it was rather a relief when his guests did 
 come. Mr. Schelling entered with a frank, win- 
 ning smile on his handsome features. Rupert 
 looked graver, more delicate than when I had 
 seen him the winter before. 
 
 " I fear we have detained you, my dear 
 Madam," said his father ; " the roads are heavier 
 than I calculated." 
 
 It was not the time for mistrust. The candles 
 shone brightly, the lire sprang uj) with joyous 
 flames ; comfort removes suspicion, and Unita-
 
 210 CATHAL MORB. 
 
 lianism was forgotten in {\w, cnjwd of pleasant 
 subjects of conversation which Mr. Schelhng in- 
 troduced. Catlial looked almost triuni])hantly 
 at his mother ; he, too, took a forward i)lace in the 
 gay discussions, and his dark grey eyes gleamed 
 with excitement, while lie stretched his mind 
 alone: side of Mr. Schelliner's. 
 
 'O 
 
 mg 
 
 " Your son travelled to learn," I said, in a low 
 tone, to Mrs. More, as Cathal w^as entertaining us 
 by his clever account of some scientific experi- 
 ments he had seen tried in Paris. 
 
 " How is it, More, you never say a word of all 
 these things to me ?" I asked ; " it was selfish 
 of you to keep it all for Mr. Schelling." 
 
 " The flint recjuires the steel," he answered. 
 
 *' Which personates the flint ?" 
 
 " Not I, certainly !" exclaimed Mr. Schelling. 
 
 Rupert gave a slight start, a kind of involun- 
 tary dissent. Mrs. More noticed it, and looked 
 at me significantly. I guessed her meaning ; and 
 observing earnestly his pale countenance, I saw- 
 in it painful signs of the mind's conflict within ; 
 his brow was slightly knit, and his lips were 
 pressed together, in the manner of one who is 
 strongly determined. He s])oke little, and his 
 absent look showed a mind far away, and in a 
 very difterent sj)here from our gay dinner table.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 211 
 
 His father, I observed, often looked at him witli 
 a dissatisfied and uneasy air — not the uneasiness 
 of alarmed affection, but with the suspicious sur- 
 veillance of one who fears to lose a prisoner. 
 
 I said something of Cathal's extraordinary 
 spirits to Mrs. More. 
 
 " He always enjoys Mr. Schelling's society," 
 she replied, with a faint smile ; and she added, in a 
 low voice — " Is it not singular how he has gained 
 this influence over my son ?" 
 
 In a few moments after, she left the dining- 
 room. 
 
 " Well, More," said Mr. Schelling, when she 
 had gone, " I cannot stay with you now for more 
 than a day ; you must forgive, therefore, my being 
 so unsociable as to ask your attention for some 
 matters of business." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " You have done what you intended ? I hope 
 you found everything satisfactory in the arrange- 
 ments between us ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I assure you I did my best to make all con- 
 venient for you, for I really valued your friend- 
 ship, and I made some saciifices to assist you ; 
 now you must help me in your turn, and fulfil 
 our joint compact." — I and Rupert were sitting at
 
 212 CATRAL MORE. 
 
 the other side of the tire-])lace, so Mr. SchelHng 
 and Cathal spoke as if they liad been tete-a-tete. 
 "You have no hesitation, have you?" he con- 
 tinued. 
 
 Cathal was silent. 
 
 " Let there be then a cancelling of our a^^ree- 
 nient, on both sides," said Mr. Schelling. " You 
 can return me the money, and we will say no 
 more about it, though J shall always be glad 
 that we have become ac(juainted with each 
 other." 
 
 I pitied Cathal, for I knew that it was utterly 
 impossible for him, at that time, to borrow the 
 twenty thousand pounds. There was no money 
 to be had at any terms, for Irishmen — and Mr. 
 Schelling was not ignorant of this ; he had calcu- 
 lated the tightness of the money-market — and 
 Cathal was completely in his power. 
 
 At last, making a violent effort over himself — 
 conquering conscience — he said, — 
 
 '* I have made the agreement, and I will adhere 
 to it. Y^ou shall have the ground." 
 
 " I will not take it in that way ; you must give 
 it to me without grudging," said Mr. Schelling, 
 sternly. 
 
 ** T (l<j freely give it to you," said Cathal, with 
 a faint smile.
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 213 
 
 " We will go and settle about the site to- 
 morrow, then.'' 
 
 " Any time you like." 
 
 " You must assist me in seeing the contracts 
 performed by the masons and workmen." 
 
 Cathal was silent. 
 
 *' Now, More," said his guest, " you acknow- 
 ledge that I have done you service ; in return, 
 you have passed me your word that you will give 
 me your countenance in establishing a chapel for 
 the beUevers in my creed. AVill you, or Avill you 
 not ? You see, I still give you the choice." 
 
 " I w^ill," said Cathal, almost inaudibly. 
 
 " That is right," said Mr. Schelling, resuming 
 his pleasant, courteous manner. " I am going to 
 build a really handsome piece of architecture, 
 and we will study to-morrow what site and plan 
 will look best in the park." 
 
 An ornamental Unitarian chapel ! I did not 
 wonder at the deep gloom which overspread 
 Cathal's countenance, nor at his silence and 
 reserve, in spite of his guest's entertaining con- 
 versation. His mother — how would she bear 
 it ? Bitter thoughts came into his mind, as he 
 reflected on the power Mr. SchelHng had attained 
 over him. lie felt his manner now almost in-
 
 214 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 sultinp;, and his very kindness served to remind 
 liiin that he was no longer his own master. 
 
 " Oh that I had never accepted his money on 
 snch terms," he mnttered to himself, as he walked 
 slowly across the wide hall to the room where his 
 mother sat ; but his annoyance was, however, 
 chiefly caused by the sensation, so galling to his 
 ])roud nature, that Mr. Schelling had acquired a 
 mastery over him, and it did not proceed from a 
 clear certainty that his act was wrong in itself. 
 When he first gave his consent, he had let himself 
 almost voluntarily be blinded by sophistries, and 
 he had had neither courage nor energy enough, 
 since, to think dee])ly on the subject. Mr. Schel- 
 ling knew this — he knew it would not be difficult 
 by persuasion to gain all he needed ; but private 
 reasons made him wish to give pain ; he deter- 
 mined to lead his captive in chains, and he al- 
 lowed Cathal to feel their first cold touch, as I 
 have described. It would not, however, do to gall 
 him too deeply, for he might break out of tlu^n — 
 he might gather strength from suffering, and ruin 
 Mr. Schelling's yet incom])lete scheme — and so 
 for the rest of the evening he exerted himself 
 agahi to please Cathal ; he entered wannly into 
 all his philanthropic plans, and gave him the assist- 
 ance of his clever practical head, opening to him
 
 CATHAL MORE. 215 
 
 such a vista of useful improvements which he was 
 to bring about, that he again nearly restored him 
 to his self-complacency. Nearly — but not (piite. 
 From that day, CathaFs eyes were opened to the. 
 fetters upon him, though they were handsomely 
 gilded. From that day, he at times suffered 
 acutely, and the happiness of his life was tar- 
 nished ; but he could not go back then ; he had 
 no means of cancelling his debt, and he felt that 
 he must perform the conditions on his side ; 
 there was nothing for it, he thought, but to deaden 
 conscience, to pour the oil of false reasoning on 
 its troubled waters ; and Mr. Schelling became 
 more than ever his guide, for Cathal could not 
 bear to appeal to his own conscience and to his 
 own rules of conduct — they reproached him too 
 painfully ; and, with the trust of a generous, true 
 mind, he believed in his professions of friendship : 
 he doubted not his sincerity, and he tried all the 
 more earnestly to be guided by him, and to be 
 persuaded by his arguments, that he had lost the 
 support of that staff of life, his own single-heart- 
 ed purpose of doing right, come what may. 
 
 The morning after the arrival of his guests, 
 Cathal, and the elder Mr. Schelling went out 
 soon after breakfast, to look for a site for 
 the new chapel, carrying with them many plans
 
 21G CATIIAL MORK. 
 
 Mild estimates, which were to guide tht'in in their 
 arrangements. He had not liad courage to 
 speak to his motlier on the subject ; hut, with an 
 einl)arrasse(l look, he told her he should be out 
 most of the day. 
 
 She easily guessed their ])ur|)ose ; and, though 
 she seldom showed external emotion, the paleness 
 of her face, and the tremulousness of lier hand, 
 when she tried to begin her morning occupations, 
 showed how she felt. 1 said nothing — for who 
 could interfere with such sorrow' as hers ? Rupert 
 looked also very grave, and concerned ; aiKl from 
 some words I had casually heard exchanged 
 between him and his father, as they came down 
 to breakfast, and the almost savage glance which 
 Mr. Schelling at the same time cast upon him — 
 I guessed that he had ventured to remonstrate 
 against introducing a religion into the neighbom*- 
 liood, which w^as evidently so repugnant to Mrs. 
 More. 
 
 There was an awkward silence for some 
 moments among us ; but at last it was broken 
 by Rupert's addressing Mrs. More, in the low 
 earnest voice, which w^as so great a charm of his. 
 
 " Vou do not wish my father to establish his 
 chapel here, do you dear Mrs. More ?" 
 
 " I am grieved that my son should not have
 
 CATIIAL MOKE. 217 
 
 more strictly followed the teaching of liis church," 
 she replied, stooping her head, that we might 
 not observe how her lips quivered with emotion. 
 
 Rupert was silent for a moment, but again he 
 said, " I am sorry we ever came across your 
 path." 
 
 " Do not be sorry for any event," she replied ; 
 " for miforeseen circumstances are ordained by a 
 higher power. I regret that Cathal shoiJd have 
 yielded, but not that I knew you." 
 
 '' If you knew," he replied, " how your teach- 
 ings and w^ords have echoed within me, since I 
 saw you — how much I ov»e you — you would 
 acknowledge that it is not in selfishness that I 
 regret our having visited youi* house ; but you 
 must hate us," he continued. 
 
 " I will confess to you," she answered, " I have 
 been uuicli pained since then, dear Ru})ert, and 
 j)erhai)s Cathal's failing in what is — for I know 
 it is — his duty, may have been caused by your 
 father. You see I speak frankly ; but we Uttle 
 know what events are truly desirable, and it may 
 be, that that visit was a blessing to me and to 
 my son." 
 
 '' I thank God, if you reaped any benefit 
 through my means!" he exclaimed. *' 1 feared you 
 would have been angry," he said. " and rightly 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 SO, at tlic unfortunate results of that visit. I do 
 not agree witli my fatlier ; I do not think this 
 unscrupulous advancement of even the purest 
 creed is riglit." lie spoke excitedly ; but she an- 
 swered calmly — 
 
 " The jidvancement of our creed, even when 
 wc are certain of its perfection, could never 
 excuse any act which in the smallest degree 
 infrmges on our duty to oiu'selves ; but we will 
 not speak of your father — parents should be 
 almost sacred subjects to thch' children." 
 
 Rupert said nothing, and an expression of 
 gloom passed over his countenance. 
 
 " Speak of yourself, dear Rupert," said Mrs. 
 More, kindly ; for she had before noticed his al- 
 most childish sensitiveness to the gentlest rebuke. 
 
 *' The interdict was taken oti' my study of 
 controversy," he continued, after a pause, "last 
 June ; and, from what I told you last winter, 
 you can imagine how eagerly I plunged into it." 
 
 *' And were you satisfied by it ?" 
 
 " No ! on every side there met me men ; their 
 opinions, their s(iual)bles, their attacks on, and de- 
 struction of truth, when it dared to oppose their 
 self-invented systems. Controversy seems but a 
 bitter fruit of ignorance and falsehood. You had 
 put me on a better track ; I felt but going
 
 CATHAL MOKE. 219 
 
 farther and fartlier from this, as I lost my way 
 in hnnian (lis])utes, arising from human error." 
 
 '' I agree with you/' said Mrs. More ; "1 have 
 ever found controversy an unsatisfactory study ; 
 for, though it affects to treat of truth, it is really 
 but a quarrelling of men, about theii' own mis- 
 takes." 
 
 " I always found my right apprehension of 
 things endangered," answered Kupert, " even 
 by the most orthodox controversialists ; for the 
 arguments they professed to answer, seemed to 
 me, often strengthened by their alleged disproof." 
 
 " I do not wonder r.t tliat," said Mrs. More ; 
 '' ^mters on your side must have a difficult 
 task ; but," she continued, " do not let us enter 
 on controversy, since we both dislike it ; I woidd 
 rather we spoke together of wliat all mankind 
 must acknowledge — general truths, which w^ill, 
 in time, perhaps, lead you to Christianity — with- 
 out entering into men's assertions or denials." 
 
 " I have read many different plans and sys- 
 tems of rehgion," he said ; " but they seem to 
 me, to fall short of what I desire. I will 
 acknowledge to you, that I am not content with 
 my father's creed ; I have not forsaken it, and yet 
 it is not satisfactory to me, and no system that I 
 can find among men is !" 
 
 L 2
 
 :2:2() cathai, more. 
 
 '' Probably not," replied .XFrs. More ; '' for 
 truth cannot be systematized by man — it is too 
 immense for him — juid iiinch of it nmst be a 
 mystery to him, for he cannot attain to its com- 
 prehension. Men pnt together very neat systems, 
 formed ont of scraps of the truth, that satisfy 
 the rules of logic ; and these nicely planned 
 machines satisfy their reasons and their intel- 
 lects — but such religion will never content the 
 whole spirit ; for though sense cannot take it in, 
 yet our higher powers can never be satisfied with 
 less than hifiniteness. We cannot by our nature 
 be happy, short of the presence of the true 
 God ; and no system which man's reason can 
 frame, could contain Him. Any creed, of whieh 
 every article is defined by our defective reason, is 
 to the truth, what an orn ry is to the universe." 
 
 ''But, my dear Madam," I could not avoid 
 saying, for I thought I spied an inconsistency ; 
 " I thought you were an advocate for using reason 
 in religion." 
 
 " Do you not see," she exclaimed, " that every 
 gift whieh we possess, is a mean necessary to 
 our religion ; for the end of created man is 
 rehgion, and no part of him is use less to that 
 end. Reason is like the otiiers necessary ; for 
 unless we were given reason, how eould we per-
 
 CATIIAL MOKE. '22 i 
 
 ceive the truth of those things of wliich wc have 
 spoken ? and without intellect, we could not know 
 the need of imagination and faith." 
 
 " Yes !" said Rupert, who appeared to have 
 been thinking much while Mrs. More spoke ; 
 '' yes, it is impossible, but, that to man in his 
 present state, there should be mysteries in truth 
 — we see them shadowing beyond the boundaries 
 of our powers. But yet I have been taught to 
 consider, that whatever cannot be dissected by 
 reason, is not to be received by men." 
 
 " It itself points out its own deficiency," 
 answered Mrs. More ; " for there are many facts 
 universally received, which yet cannot be proved 
 by reason, as we at present imperfectly possess 
 it ; and the existence of principles beyond its 
 ken, is plain to all men. This supernatm-al 
 ground we are admitted to by revelation — after, 
 mark you, through reason, we knew that sacli 
 terra incognita existed. From many proofs ad- 
 dressed to it also, we discover the authority oi 
 this revelation ; is it not then, apart from all 
 other considerations, unreasonable in us to dis- 
 believe one jot in it from its most simple nar- 
 rative, to its most supernatural announcement ?" 
 
 Rupert was silent ; her words were \ ery
 
 -:22 CATnAL MORE. 
 
 different from tlic teachings Iiis father had be- 
 stowed upon him. 
 
 " I wish," he said at length, " 1 wish you 
 were ever wi(h uie, to set these things so clearly 
 before rae/* 
 
 " No 1" she answered ; " tlie responsibility of 
 a right choice rests with you, dear Ru|)ert. In 
 yoiu" study of such subjects, you must remember 
 o'iy to forget, the bye-laws of human reasoning. 
 Do not be offended with its name ; but of all 
 creeds, you will find Catholicity, alone, rests not 
 ill man, for it is not invented by man ; it is 
 received from God, and leads liis creatures back 
 to him." 
 
 " Not yet," said Rupert, with a startled look ; 
 " there is much in my father's belief which I do 
 not yet perhaps understand ; it may satisfy me. 
 J)() not, dear Mrs. More, tell him what I said 
 ai)()ut its seeming insufficient to me ; after all, it 
 may be from my not rightly receiving it." 
 
 " Study still more then ; but 1 ask you to 
 remember my advice." 
 
 '' How could 1 forget it ?' he exclaimed ; " how 
 I wish that we belonged to the same faith, and 
 then I could, without restraint, receive your ad- 
 vice ; but 1 am forced to submit it to the
 
 CATHAL MORE. :223 
 
 gauge of our creed, before I can freely follow 
 it." 
 
 A pause ensued, when I, to break its un- 
 pleasantness, remarked, " You rather surprised 
 me, my dear Madam, by saying that we had need 
 of imagination, as well as faith. Faith, of course, 
 is necessary ; but what is imagination, but a 
 power of dreaming ingeniously ?" I found that, 
 on this point, w^hat t thought my plain common 
 sense, had two antagonists ; for Rupert ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 '' Why, imagination is the glass in which we 
 see heaven reflected !" 
 
 " That is all very fine," said I, " for poets and 
 those who know how to look into your magic 
 mirror ; but I ask again, what is the need of 
 imagination to common mortals ?" 
 
 " Greater than w^e are in the habit of sup- 
 posing," answxTed Mrs. More; "for man would 
 be as a brute without it." 
 
 " I thought, in my ignorance," said I, " that it 
 was by the gift of reason, that we are superior to 
 the brute creation." 
 
 " Reason would be but little superior to in- 
 stinct, if it were not allied to imagination. 
 I believe, Doctor, that man is distinguished 
 from inferior animals, chiefly by his innate desire
 
 224 CATITAL AIORE. 
 
 to prepare himself for that perfect future state, 
 which lie feels is before liini. Tliis desire 
 for perfection it is, I think, which elevates our 
 instinct to reason and wisdom ; and our sel- 
 fishness, to self-love. Now imagination, 1 think, 
 enables us to believe in this future perfection, 
 and so it applies the touch of this never-failing 
 divin(^ attraction to all our instincts, changing 
 them into heavenly aspirations." 
 
 " Faith," I said, " is good for this })urpose ; 
 but I think you give imagination too high a 
 place." 
 
 " There can be no faith without hungination, 
 for we must imagine the fact before we can 
 believe." 
 
 " But if we believed all we imagined, what a 
 sea of myths and follies we should be lost in !" 
 
 " I think you confuse imagination with fancy," 
 she replied ; " imagination I understand to be 
 the powTr of presenting to our mind's eye ab- 
 stract truth which exists, but which we cannot 
 know by experience, because it is beyond our 
 present powers to discover. Imagination is, in 
 short, the speculum on Avhich is mirrored all 
 specially revealed and supernatiu*al truth, which 
 faith then adopts." 
 
 " And what is fancy ?"
 
 CATHAL MORE. 225 
 
 " Fancy is a combination of human ideas — a 
 kaleidoscope of experienced facts — mixed up witli 
 some gaudy scraps of s 'nsuous colour, often 
 nicely arranged, and forming pretty pictures. 
 The great difference between fancy and inuigiiia- 
 tion is, that imagination sets before us truth, and 
 is thc> reflection of Heaven ; while fancy presents 
 pictures gleaned by our senses, from among the 
 scenes of earth." 
 
 " Yet Ave say that the most sensuous poets 
 have imagination. — Shelley, forin stance;." 
 
 " We say — ^but we often say sad nonsense — 
 Shelley is pecuharly a poet of fancy. Words- 
 worth has the imagination of which I speak, and 
 Tennyson." 
 
 " Why, some of his best poems are nic'ta^)hy- 
 sical and philosophical." 
 
 " And that just accounts for their being ima- 
 ginative — for philosophy is the chief sphere of 
 imag ination." 
 
 I could not Ih'lp exclaiming — " My dear ma- 
 dam, whjit do you nienur" 
 
 ** Why, if imagination bv- ever needed, it is by 
 a philosoph/r — for a i)rima facie view of principles 
 which his reason pr, sents to hiui, can never, [ 
 think, be in truth correct." 
 
 " In the name of offended reasun, why not?" 
 
 L 3
 
 226 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 '' Because wc caiiiiot see the whole bearings 
 of any trntli by the observation of onr reason, 
 until, by imagination, we come out of ourselves, 
 aijfl place ourselves in the centre of things." 
 
 " 1 do not understand." 
 
 " I will try to explain my meaning by a meta- 
 ])hor. — Su})i)ose we were living in a valley with 
 a mountain towering above us, we could not tell 
 tlu; bearings of the whole country around \uitil we 
 eiimbed to the highest point, and then, on every 
 side, we should sec how it rose out of the plain. 
 Now the view, which we get from the valley, of 
 the mountain, represents the relative view which 
 by reason we may get of truth ; we see it on the 
 side which is towards us ; but yet we know little, 
 nothing, of all its other bearings. Now, by 
 imaginati<jn, the philosopher elevates himself 
 from his present condition, until he sees the 
 whole truth as it absolutely exists, and not 
 merely as it relates to himself." 
 
 *' 1 understand you better now ; so then you 
 make imagination necessary to our perce])tion of 
 all abstract truth." 
 
 " I think reason may discover relative, sub- 
 jective truth; but I do think imagination is ne- 
 cessary to our perception of objective truth." 
 
 " Then you, indeed, give it a high j)lace,"
 
 CATHAL MORE. 227 
 
 I said. " I do not tliink philosophers recog- 
 nise it, however, so much as you do for them." 
 
 " Why, men generally think that they them- 
 selves are the ce^itre of things, and they judge 
 principles and truths under the influence of this 
 mistake, thereby often coming to false conchisions, 
 and, by their one-sided personal views, introduc- 
 ing all manner of error." 
 
 We were all silent for a tew moments. Mrs. 
 More's conversation often requii'cd a pause for 
 reflection, diff*erent from that of most people, 
 which only keeps alive attention by its unceasing- 
 ness. She broke our reverie, by saying — 
 
 " I promised to give a receipt for makhig pea- 
 bread to old Alice Keenan ; but the flrst ingre- 
 dient in cooking is the thing to be cooked, so I 
 must take her half a stone of the meal. Will 
 you help me to carry the basket ?" 
 
 We readily assented, and in a few minutes we 
 were on our way. 
 
 When we had walked some moments in .silence, 
 Rupert asked if the projected terracQ had been 
 finished. 
 
 " Yes !" Mrs. More replied, " it was completed 
 last spring ; we will go and see it, after we have 
 instructed Alice in the mysteries of pea-nu al." 
 
 As we passed the gate, we saw, near it, Catlial 
 and Mr. Schelling, giving orders to a labourer,
 
 228 CATMAL MORE. 
 
 who was cutting a line in tlic sod, — lock-spit ting, 
 — as we call it in rustic parlance. Mrs. Mori' 
 looked i'or a moment a little palrr than usual, 
 but she commanded herself, and walked towards 
 them. 
 
 Mr. v^ehelling advanced to meet her ; there 
 was the slightest possible expression of triumph 
 in his manner, Avhich was, however, as courteous 
 as ever. 
 
 " I am glad," said he, " you have come to hclj) 
 us in our work. I remendjer some very refined 
 and, doubtless, right ideas, which you expressed 
 last whiter on architecture." 
 
 "I know little of such matters," she replied ; 
 and added with emphasis, " in any case, I could 
 not offer you any assistance !" 
 
 " Do you not then appreciate my desire to 
 promote religion ?" he said with an air of dis- 
 a])[)ointment. 
 
 ** We shall not agree on such questions," she 
 replied, almost haughtily. " I did not know that 
 you were engaged in this place ; but, as T have 
 met you, Cathal," she continued, addressing her 
 son, '' I wish to remind you that you promised 
 this ground to old Dick Martin for his new 
 cottage." 
 
 " 1 have given land to him elsewhere," he re-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 229 
 
 plied, but in a reckless tone of voice, so unusual 
 with him, that I turned to see how he looked. 
 The forced smile, so discordant with the gloomy 
 expression of his brow and eyes, and the nervous 
 twitching of his mouth, belied his careless man- 
 ner. He saw^ his mother's pained look and his 
 strong affection for her suffered ; but pride forced 
 him to conceal what he felt, at any cost, for it is 
 a strange instinct in men, that however much 
 they may dislike an act, if they be forced into 
 it, they always make-believe its performance is 
 agreeable to them." 
 
 Mrs. More said no more, but tm-ned again to 
 pursue her walk. Rupert whispered something 
 in a low voice to his father. I heard his answer ; 
 it was an example of the species of influence he 
 possessed over the young man. The only hi- 
 flucnce, as he knew well, which has strong power 
 over a mind like his son's. 
 
 " Trust me !" he said ; '' 1 am acting from the 
 pm*est motives ; they will one day be made ck ar 
 to you." 
 
 And this, I thought, is what makes Rupert so 
 averse to his father's teachnig ; he beheves in his 
 sincerity ; he thinks he is devoted to right.
 
 ;230 ( ATIIAL MOHK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 When we returned for luncheon, after visiting 
 Alice Keenan, we found Mr. Sclielling and Ca- 
 tlial in the dining-room. 
 
 " I have been very selfish, mother," he said, 
 " but I nmst not monopolize Schelling any 
 more ; he wants to walk with you, to see the 
 terrace he planned during his last visit." 
 
 Though he tried to assume an unconcerned, 
 gay air, it was evident how ill at ease he really 
 was. His mother, however, exerted herself to 
 avoid any embarrassing pause, for she felt no 
 })ique, no annoyance, that her son had acted 
 contrary to her wishes ; her sorrow for his error 
 seemed rather to make him more dear to her — 
 more anxious to please him, in what she could, 
 if possible, than before. 
 
 He and Rupert went to look at the stables aiul 
 kennel, but I joined Mrs. More and Mr. Schel- 
 ling. 
 
 He tried several times to introduce subjects of a 
 religious cast into their conversation, — foi- lie was
 
 CATHAL MORE. 231 
 
 evidently anxious to gain his companion's good 
 opinion, — and to do so, he exerted all his clever- 
 ness to rise to her standard; but she always 
 avoided what are called " serious topics," — and 
 especially so in her intercourse with Mr. Schel- 
 lino-. Nor did she feel inclined to debate with 
 him, the best site for the building of his chapel. 
 
 At last, he saw that she was not to be led into 
 discussion, and he began to praise the taste with 
 which she had completed the pleasure-grounds 
 adjoining the new terrace. " The only improve- 
 ment I could imagine in this view," he said, 
 " w^ould be an additional picturesqueness. The 
 trees are too w^ell grown ; I should like to see 
 some gnarled trunks. A few lightning strokes 
 would improve them." 
 
 " I can hardly expect many to agree with me," 
 replied Mrs. More ; " but I think our love for 
 what are called picturesque objects, is a perver- 
 sion of our natural instinct for the beautiful." 
 
 " Then do you not admire the many eccen- 
 tricities of natm'e — that beautiful scarlet laurel- 
 leaf, for instance, diseased though naturalists 
 might call it?" 
 
 '' Hardly, for that is an imperfection." 
 
 Mr. ScheUing looked puzzled ; he was unac- 
 customed to such severe rules of beauty, and he
 
 232 C ATI I A I. MORE. 
 
 (lr()j)j)c(l the suhjcct, fearful lest lie might, out of 
 liis (lij)tli, j)liingc in a wi'oiig direction, and in- 
 crease the prejudice against liini in Mrs. More's 
 mind. While he was meditating on what sub- 
 ject he and she might meet on equal grounds, 
 Catlial and Rupert, accompanying Agnes and 
 Catherine Hyde, appeared within sight, and by 
 their coming, relieved him from his perplexity. 
 
 Catherine Hyde had grown quieter and graver 
 than when my readers first knew her. Fore- 
 thoughts of life and its duties had checked 
 her former high spirits ; for thoughtfulness and 
 graveness, even in the most blameless, must ever 
 go hand in hand. \Mien, by thought, we see 
 farther into the truths of our being than the 
 mere every-day events around us, we can scarce 
 be utterly light-hearted. It belongs to a perfect 
 state to enjoy the Infinite ; in our present con- 
 dition, it weighs upon us. 
 
 It may seem strange that a young nund, and 
 a girl's mind, should think so dee})ly ; but .Mrs. 
 More had ever encouraged her to do so. She 
 knew how insufficient is the narrowness of what 
 is called " a good English education" — how un- 
 satisfying is the religion which is not based on a 
 knowledge of the great truths of our being. As 
 far as she could, she set them before her pupils,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 233 
 
 teaching them rather to devote themselves to the 
 study of principles, than to that of mere facts. 
 
 Agnes Hyde had sooner learnt these lessons ; 
 for her temperament was more suited to them — 
 at least, until the pain Major Wyndham's con- 
 duct had given Catherine, had made a " con- 
 venient season," and had checked her former 
 almost exuberant gaiety. 
 
 And yet, though more resembling her sister 
 tlian formerly, she was still a very different cha- 
 racter — perhaps more loveable, to most tastes. 
 She gathered personal joy from every pleasure — 
 she entu'ely adopted the happiness which fell to 
 her lot as her own, and sunned herself in it 
 with the delight of a butterfly, as it opens its 
 wings on a bright day. And so her look was 
 more joyous, her step more gay, her laugh more 
 frequent than her sister's, though their circum- 
 stances were, to all appearance, equal. — Wliy 
 was this ? Because Agnes made an offering of 
 her joy to its Giver — because her happiness, all 
 her many blessings, were returned in a sacrifice 
 of thanksgiving. She did not adopt her plea- 
 sures as her own irresponsible possession ; there- 
 fore she did not revel in the sunshine of life as 
 though it were created solely for her, and as 
 Catherine did. Her mere pleasure was perhaps
 
 234 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 lessened l)y this sense of responsibility; slie was 
 more earnest tli.'in lur sister, h\\\ licr lia|)j)iness 
 was threat or. 
 
 Eut, as I liave said, Cathrrinc had bironic much 
 more thoughtful (hu*ing the six montlis of her 
 engagement; and it was without her foruur in- 
 cHnation to huigh at hiui for his melancholy air, 
 that she walked beside Rupert Schelling, to meet 
 us on the terrace. 
 
 During their former visit, she had showed me 
 many a caricature of his pale, sad face, but now 
 she felt interested in his darkened views of life, 
 for she had in the past year some of its turmoil 
 and care ; she now knew more of the meaning of 
 Longfellow's line, which, the winter before, she 
 had (|uoted to Major Wyndham — 
 " Life is real, life is earnest." 
 
 " I am glad you have come, for it has saved 
 my sending a messenger to the rectory," said 
 Mrs. More to the two young ladies; "you must 
 stay and dine with us. Do you think your father 
 would join our ])arty ?" 
 
 " We will return and ask him, if you like," 
 answered Agnes Hyde. 
 
 "Shall we all walk in tli;it direction?" said 
 Cathal. " Should you like it, mother?" 
 
 ** C(,'rtainly, if you wish," slu' rej)lied.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 235 
 
 "Do you know oiir rector, Schclling?" Catlial 
 asked. 
 
 " I have not the honour/' he replied, while a 
 curious gleam lighted his eyes — a mixture of 
 triumph and dislike. 
 
 " What new improvement are you setting on 
 toot, Mr. More," asked Catherine Hyde ; "we saw 
 some labourers marking out Avhat looked like a 
 plan, as we came up." 
 
 It was an embarrassing question ; but, while 
 Cathal was confusedly hesitating what to say, 
 Mr. Schelling answered for him, with a slight 
 smile — 
 
 " I have been persuading my friend to exercise 
 his architectural tastes on that piece of ground. 
 What the uses of the building will be, I beheve 
 he will keep for a surprise." 
 
 Cathal coloured, and looked angry ; but what 
 could he say to Mr. Hyde's daughters, to Agnes 
 especially ? His mother did not speak, as he 
 seemed to wish concealment, though her first 
 impulse prompted her to have none. She looked 
 pained at the power which, by this speech, she 
 saw Mr. Schelling possessed over her son ; for if 
 he were, as formerly, unshackled, slu' knew that 
 lie would not have let it remain unanswered. 
 
 Agnes Hyde seemed astonished, but she said
 
 286 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 notliing ; however, Catherine rather thoiiglit- 
 lessly exclaimed, " I am sure it will be something 
 to admire ; papa says all your late improvements, 
 Mr. More, arc so well planned." 
 
 ** Do not say more now," said his mother, in 
 a low voice, f(jr she saw a I'cd spot enlarging on 
 her son's brow ; "your fatlui- knows what it is ; 
 he will tell you about it." 
 
 " I received such a curious letter from that 
 strange Mrs. Parks," said Catherine, after a pause 
 of some moments ; " she ^vrote from Rome, where 
 they are spending the winter." 
 
 "You must let us read it," answered Cathal, 
 (juickly, for he was glad to change the subject. 
 " Wyndham must sec it, too." 
 
 " I will not make it quite pubhc," she repUed, 
 colouring ; for her would-be friend had made some 
 disagreeable remarks on the subject of her post- 
 poned engagement. 
 
 " Has her mother gone witli them ?" inquired 
 Mrs. More. 
 
 " Oh yes ! before they had been three weeks 
 married, she joined them, and she has not since 
 left them." 
 
 " Why he had a mother who niv( r left him ; 
 how have they managed ?" asked Cathal. 
 
 " Mrs. Peter eomph^tely dismissed her from
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 237 
 
 the establishment, and obliged her to retire on 
 her jointure, which was not a large one ; but Mrs. 
 Peter preached so incessantly, on the error of an 
 old lady not devoting her thoughts solely to the 
 " one thing needful/' that, out of sheer shame, she 
 gave up his afFau's to her son. Mrs. Peter at once 
 took the management, for Mr. Parks has no will 
 of his own, as the least arguing brings on his 
 giddiness." 
 
 " But how have you discovered all these 
 things?" said Mrs. More, with a look of kind 
 reproof to Catherine, for so ridiculing her cor- 
 respondent. 
 
 '' Mrs. Parks makes no secret of them," she 
 replied ; " and now that she thinks it cannot in- 
 jure her fortunes, she writes with open ridicule of 
 her mother, and the utmost contempt of her 
 husband." 
 
 '' One could make many wise reflections on 
 the evils her bad education has caused," said 
 Mrs. More ; " only it is uncharitable to moralize 
 over personal examples." 
 
 " But do you know her chief ground for 
 scoming her husband ?" said Catherine ; " she 
 says in this letter that ' he does not rise to her 
 tone of mind,' and that ' he never originates an 
 idea.' "
 
 238 C'ATriAi, vnrr.. 
 
 "Inciter than originatinu bad ones, however," 
 said (yathal. 
 
 "Then she insinuates that lie is a t' — 1, as she 
 lias written it." 
 
 ** or w hieh tlie chief evidence was iiis mar- 
 riage,*' replied Cathal. 
 
 " Those kind of marriages generally end mise- 
 rably/' observed Mrs. More. 
 
 " And yet she has got money — all she wanted," 
 replied Cathal. 
 
 " Just so — we desire money, and perhaps not 
 wTongly ; yet, like all means to perfection, if not 
 rightly used, it is a misfortune." 
 
 ** I hear your favourite word perfection. Ma- 
 dam," said Mr. Schelling. 
 
 " I wish," she said, " it were always my ruhnu: 
 thought." 
 
 Cathal abruptly changed the subj(ct, for he 
 dreaded any discussions involving moral questions, 
 between his mother and Mr. Schelling, while he 
 was present. It is a good test of whether our 
 consciences are easy or not, our liking to hear 
 right and wrong debated. 
 
 At the Rectory we found Mr. Ilyde to whom 
 Mr. Schelling was duly introduced. He had 
 before heard of him, ami he had been curious to 
 make his aecjuaintance, as a clever man will
 
 CATHAL MORE. 239 
 
 always be to test the prowess of his mental an- 
 tagonist. 
 
 They were great contrasts, these two men — 
 Mr. Hyde, with his high, slightly bald forehead, 
 his clear bright eye, the grey of which looked 
 black under his somewhat bushy eyebrows — his 
 firmly set mouth, well shaped, though too massive 
 for beauty, and his tall, strong figure, dressed in 
 rough black frieze — and Mr. Schelling, small, and 
 very thin and worn - looking, with beautiful, 
 regular featm-es. Yet the paleness of his face 
 and the smallness of his keen blue eyes injured 
 its expression. His mouth was generally curled 
 by a smile, but the deep line from his nostril to 
 his mouth showed that it was not the expression 
 of a kindly feeling. He was always scrupulously 
 neat and exact in his dress, on which I never 
 observed a speck of mud, or dust. His hands 
 were white, and his fingers w^ll shaped, and 
 tapering to their arched nails. As is usual among 
 those who possess beauty of form, his actions 
 were singularly graceful ; and I often envied him 
 the total absence of gaucherie with which he 
 noiselessly moved through the crowded china 
 and frail ornaments in Mrs. More's morning 
 room, for even on the Turkey carpet in the dining 
 room my boots are always perversely audible.
 
 "210 CATMM. MORK. 
 
 1 iiiav 1)1' prejudiced, or have a coarse taste; 
 l)iit I like a licarty noise. 1 like people to make 
 their presence known, otherwise than by the in- 
 definite and slightly awfid sensation our spirits 
 undergo when others are near them, until their 
 eyes or ears perceive that some mortal is at 
 hand. 
 
 Mr. Hyde readily promised to dine at Cap- 
 pagh, for he was curious to know more of Mr. 
 Schelling. 
 
 " I have certainly heard the name, many years 
 ago," he said to me, '' and I think, in some way 
 connected with my old friend, Catlial's father, 
 before his marriage ; but 1 remember nothing 
 distinctly." 
 
 I had been trying to make somewhat of an 
 interesting story out of these simple facts, and 
 1 had intended to have left unnientioned the fact 
 of Agnes' growing aflPection for Cathal, until it 
 might have come in with, perhaps, more interest, 
 and been a surprise to the reader ; but I try in 
 vain, and simple truth is all that I can describe. 
 1 would that I could write the whole truth of my 
 friends ; the almost perfected character of Mrs. 
 More, the many excellencies of the Hydes, and 
 the uidiappy contrast to them in Mr. Schelling. 
 1 can only tell a part of all tliis, and but badly
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 241 
 
 weave the little I do write into a story. Good 
 reader, forgive my want of ingenuity. I say 
 what I know, as I knew it myself ; and it was 
 during this spring that I first perceived the 
 young plant of Catlial and Agnes' mutual love. 
 It was deep-rooted before they themselves knew 
 aught of it ; and not for long after, was it ac- 
 knowledgcd by one to the other. Yet the germ 
 of it began to shoot in this winter of 1845-6. 
 
 Reader, you are perhaps angry with Cathal 
 More, and think him unworthy of so white a 
 lily as Agnes. You have seen prominently his 
 chief fault, and I have scarcely mentioned his 
 many excellenciL'S. I will not number them — 
 they were so many, that their recital miglit 
 weary you ; yet believe in them, that you may 
 think the growing affection in Agnes for him 
 not irreconcileable with her clear judgment and 
 high standard of right. She saw him as a son, 
 the "crown of his mother," — as a friend, the 
 unwearied helper of her father in all his works. 
 
 But why multiply causes for her love? she 
 never reasoned on his merits ; and the very ad- 
 miration she felt for him was to her a veil, which 
 hid from her, her deeper feelings. AVhen she 
 looked within herself, she saw respect for his 
 goodness ; underneath, though then unknown to 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 CATHAL MORF. 
 
 hv\\ was love for liiiiisclt', uiipciTiivodly tincturing 
 lur w hoh' bi'ini^. 
 
 I "guessed the secret, from a slif^lit accident 
 that Cathal met with one day, early in the month 
 of Decemlxr. We were watching him as he 
 "schooled ' an awkward young horse over some 
 railing in the })ark. The animal fell across it, 
 Ibrtunately, how^cver, flinging its rider clear of 
 it. He was not hurt, but I felt Agnes' ann, 
 which was drawn within mine, tremble exces- 
 sively, while she became suddenly pale. I said — 
 
 " 1 did not know you were so nervous." 
 
 " I jHii not generally so," she replied, simply ; 
 " I suppose on some days one is not so strong 
 as on others." 
 
 She knew nothing about herself ! It was not 
 some days, but some people that made the dift'er- 
 ence ; but unversed in novel lore, she was not on 
 the look out for " sensations," nor had Miss Peter, 
 or Mrs. Parks, as I should now^ call her, increased 
 her knowledge, by her i\IS. *' Burning words of 
 l)Vf)k(m hearts." 
 
 Hut, as I said, 1 should not have yet touched 
 on tiiis matter — for it was then unknown to all, 
 even to Agnes herself, though she felt uinnistake- 
 ably glad to walk up the long avenue, leaning on 
 Cathal, and to spend the long winter evening in 
 his and his mother's society.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 There was a sensation of embarrassment over 
 the chief speakers of our little party, which cast 
 a chill on their usually ready conversational 
 powers. I speak of Mrs. ]\Iore and Mr. Schcl- 
 ling ; for Mr. Hyde, though possessing the founda- 
 tion of fluency — accurate knowledge — seldom 
 spoke for what is called the sake of conversation. 
 When an idea came forcibly across him, it struck 
 words out of him, almost involuntarily ; but even 
 when paying a morning visit, he would often sit 
 silent and abstracted, only answering, by an in- 
 difl'erent monosyllable, any trivial remarks, ad- 
 dressed to him on the weather, or his neighbours. 
 
 Yet 1 have heard him, in the cabins of the 
 poor, eagerly and elocpiently speaking ; while, 
 among the richer and religiously careless members 
 of his flock, he was accused of chilling reserve and 
 iuditference. He was indiflerent, but it was to 
 I heir pursuits; he was silent, because they were 
 indiflerent to his; and he cared not to drag down 
 his thoughts to the level of theirs. He held that 
 
 M 2
 
 244 fATIIAT- MORE. 
 
 \vi' should ever look above, and strive to go 
 npwiird, and never, i'nv any reason, allow one of 
 our powers to turn earthwards ; not tor the best 
 friend's sak(% not even to sjive a sonl, would he 
 stint in his heavenward course ; far less to bring 
 down the mysteries of Heaven, and parade them 
 in a lowered form junong the grovellers of the 
 Avorld, even with the intent i(jn of convincing 
 them that their reality existed above. I have 
 often heard him speak with sorrow of those who, 
 in a mistaken zeal for doing good, stooi)ed to eartli, 
 that they might lift their fellows from it. " Never 
 descend," he taught, " or we lose the heavenly 
 clue. Never look back — remember Lot's wife. 
 Arise, let us go hence," was his continual impulse; 
 " check not in our race, that others may come 
 nj) with us ; they have Moses and the prophets. 
 They have reason and revelation; lose not your 
 prize for any one." ** This is not selfish," he said ; 
 " it is a duty ; for w'e assist those behind us far more 
 by our unflinching steadiness, than by turning 
 back to tell them of our imperfect knowledge." 
 
 But I nuist return to earth — to imperfection 
 and sin — to sense and mortality, our prison cells. 
 There was not much said during our walk ; twi- 
 light has always a silenchig influence on us ; per- 
 haps from an undefined sorrow for light. The
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 245 
 
 Ijlazins fire in Cathal's stiulv, round which we col- 
 Iccted, as was the family custom before dinner, 
 somewhat revived onr spirits. It is strange liow 
 lire-light and lamp-light, and all the invented 
 liglits of men, inspire feelings of greater self-gra- 
 tiilation, and self-satisfaction, than the appointed 
 lights of the Universe ; we feel our senses expand 
 — we become gay — our spirits rise — at night, be- 
 cause we are weighed down by the brightness of 
 day, for it is a continual contrast to our darkened 
 lives. I have often noticed this distinction be- 
 tween us and the rest of creation. — ^lost animals 
 dislike our invented lights, for they are as God 
 made them, pure ; w^e are depressed by the day, 
 and we grow elated in the sullied brightness of 
 our own fabrication, because we are also sullied. 
 
 Perhaps, I am too fond of searching for such 
 correspondences ; I should simply have said that 
 we all became comfortable in the fire-light. 
 
 " Have you ever thought since, of the conver- 
 sations on animal magnetism, that Ave had last 
 year ?" asked Mr. Schelling of Cathal. 
 
 " They were too interesting to forget," he 
 answered. " I am glad I did not consent to your 
 wish of trying experiments on me, however." 
 
 " We h(\ir(l a painful story of its eff'ects since," 
 said Mrs. More.
 
 246 CATIIAL MORK. 
 
 " Accidents only hM|)|)en w luii the mesmerist is 
 nervous," said Mr. Sehelliiig; " but as you seem 
 nervous too, More, perhaps it was as well not." 
 
 Ho spoke in a sneering tone, which brought a 
 flush of ann^er into Catiial's cheek. 
 
 " 1 have no lear (jf your niesnicrie ])ower," he 
 answered; " or oi' any human power," he added, 
 with emphasis. 
 
 ]\Ir. Scludling, who at first had scanned Cathal's 
 countenance with a look of disguised contempt, 
 said nothing in reply, for his strongest hold over 
 the young man's mind was in his ])rinciple of 
 honour, and gratitude' for his supposed kindness, 
 which woidd keep him to his promise to himself, 
 and he feared to loosen the tie before his plans 
 were ripe. 
 
 '' I do not experimentalize now in that way 
 nmch," he continued ; '' but it has not prevented 
 my still holding firmly the theory of animal mag- 
 netism, wjiich we discussed last winter." 
 
 " And that Avas, as well as I remember," said 
 Mrs. More, " that there was a ])roven connexion 
 between mind and matter, — that none knew 
 exactly in what this connexion existed, but that 
 you solved the problem, by imputing it to a third 
 existence in us, besides our souls and bodies, the 
 workings of which you called animal magnetism."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 247 
 
 " There must have been something of truth in 
 my idea, or it woukl not have remained so dis- 
 tinctly graven on your memory," he answered 
 coiu-teously. " That was, and is, my theory ; and 
 I think it fills a singular gap, which every think- 
 ing mind ;nast perceive to exist in the chain of 
 causation." 
 
 " Do you mean the agencies which connect the 
 will of the spirit with sensible acts." 
 
 " Yes ! I am glad that it has struck you too 
 as requiring some explanation ; how it is that 
 our physical powers obey our minds." 
 
 " There are so many things requiring explana- 
 tion, that one must take some of them for 
 granted," said Cathal. 
 
 " I should not feel satisfied to agree in that 
 easy way of disposing of difficulties," said Mr. 
 Schelling ; " on the contrary, I believe there is 
 no link missing in the causes of things ; I believe 
 that all natiu-e obeys determined laws." 
 
 " I agree with you," answered Mr. llydc, 
 " there is no chance even in the flickering of that 
 flame — no accident in the curls of smoke up the 
 chimney ; but though all is accordhig to natural 
 law, there is a power above law. Providence, 
 which may, and does sometimes, supersede it." 
 
 *' Are we not to think according to justice,
 
 248 CATIIAL MORK. 
 
 that perfect laws arc irreniovcable ])y a perfect 
 l)ein^ ? for the only reason \\]\y a law should ever 
 be abrogated is that it is wrong, or that it no 
 longer suits the times. The first objection applies 
 not to (li\ iiic law. 'The sccoiul, only belongs to 
 mortality, for the gnat first cause do;'s not ac- 
 knowledge time." 
 
 " I believe with you, that perfect laws are im- 
 mutable and irrecallable," re})lied ]\Ir. Hyde, 
 " and I quite agree that all creation was linked in 
 one circle of obedient order ; but man broke 
 through it — he put himself without the influence 
 of this unchanging law of perfect nature. — And 
 since the fall, I conceive he has strayed beyond 
 the precincts of the unbroken natural causation 
 in which he once existed." 
 
 " I cannot try conclusions with you on scrip- 
 tural ground," said Mr. Schelling, " our deduc- 
 tions from them are so difterent ; but I am glad 
 we arc so far agreed in our belief that there is 
 a contimious causation ruling all the apparently 
 accidental circumstances around us." 
 
 " Yes, I am a believer," ]VIr. Hyde answered, 
 *' in the self-supporting character of creation. I 
 will even go fartlicr, and say that 1 tliink tliere 
 is no peculiar interference with the order of 
 nature ; but man has put himself without her
 
 CATHAL MORE. 249 
 
 ])alc ; and for him has been appointed the super- 
 natural law of Providence. I cannot assent to 
 your implication, that he is in all his actions 
 necessarily following certain rules ; for I think 
 there are no rules or laws but what emanate 
 from God, and to say, we sinned according to 
 rule, would be to impute evil laws to Him." 
 
 " We cannot meet on fair grounds," said Mr. 
 Schelling ; " you are prejudiced, from your office ; 
 I, perhaps, from my love of reducing all facts 
 to natm'al law. It has always been a favoimte 
 theory with me, that no event ever was, which 
 could not be ascribed to a rule ; and that there 
 were no rides that were not caused by inevit- 
 able concurrences of circumstances." 
 
 " That leads to direct materialism," said j\Ir. 
 Hyde, gravely ; " but even granting that there 
 be a species of materialism in nature — allowing 
 that it has a self-producing, and self-existing 
 circle of laws, — man is completely removed from 
 this regularity of action, by his fall." 
 
 " Then if you reject the existence of necessary 
 laws, producing the combinations on every side of 
 us, how do you account for these combinations ? 
 why does one man fall from a scafiblding r 
 why is another safe, though he be within an inch 
 of the same accident ?" 
 
 ,H 6
 
 250 CATIIAL MOKE. 
 
 " The direct answer to that, is iny assertion 
 that l^'ovidcncc rules these thinpjs for us." 
 
 ** Yet by all anal()«ry of nature, there are no 
 breaks in causation ; the sun's lieat gathers up 
 the water from the ground, that it nuiy fall again, 
 and refresh the fields ; the i)lants grow from 
 earth, and when their end is attained, they be- 
 come earth again. In iJl these things, we see 
 exquisite circles of laws ; and are we to suppose 
 that the events which happen to man, are alone 
 in the world ungoverncd by these harmonious 
 rules ?" 
 
 " I said not that there were no rules for the 
 events which occur to man ; but that in his ow^n 
 actions, he had become an alien from natural 
 law." 
 
 ** Then if there be these rules, is not what I 
 said, true ? and where does a supernatural Pro- 
 vidence act, if the events which happen to us are 
 self-produced by the laws of nature ?" 
 
 Mrs. More, who had been attentively listening 
 to the conversation, dry as it was, and rather in- 
 comprehensible, seemed surprised at this remark. 
 
 " I do not quite \mderstand what you mean by 
 laws of nature, independent of Providence," she 
 said, '' though Mr. Hyde has allowed you that 
 such may be."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 251 
 
 "We Christians must know, and believe," 
 answered the Rector, " that original creation 
 was providential ; but at the creation of matter, 
 was also the creation of laws, by which matter 
 was to be controlled. I will allow to ^Ir. Scliel- 
 Hng that these laws maintain nature, and that 
 there is no immediate interference in its opera - 
 ations, though it is of course, subject to the 
 Supreme; but in opposition to him, I maintain, 
 that through sin, man has become exotic to 
 nature, and that he is under a special supernatural 
 law, or direct Providence, framed for his condition." 
 
 " I did not quite understand you," rejoined 
 Mrs. More, " when you said that the curls of 
 smoke obeyed a law in even the form they took. 
 We know smoke goes upwards ; but would you 
 say, law governed the eccentricities of its ascent?" 
 
 '* I would say, my dear madam," Mr. Hyde 
 replied, "that there are no eccentricities in all 
 the domain of nature, except in man. I be- 
 lieve that by accurate statistics, it has been 
 found, that even in the shape of a leaf there is a 
 rule followed ; that suppose one leaf was found 
 in three millions of leaves, of a peculiar form, in 
 another three millions of leaves, a similar leaf 
 might be found ; and so on, with a species of 
 infinite precision incomprehensible to our minds.
 
 2^)2 CATH AL MORE. 
 
 There is no real irregularity in nature, in spite 
 of its variety ; and it is sin wliieli has produeed 
 irreguhu'ity in men. There i)eing, therefore*, no 
 sin in any part of creation, except in man, we 
 are to snppose there can be no irregularity in 
 that." 
 
 " It does seem strange," said Mrs. More ; 
 " this accurate rule, in what one has been ac- 
 customed to consider either chance, or the works 
 of Providence." 
 
 "Yes! but the truth that this rule exists in 
 the minutest work of nature, being once es- 
 tablished, most singular and convincing facts can 
 be brought to its suj)port." 
 
 " Yes !" said Mr. Schelling, '' 1 have seen some 
 wonderful tables, gathered by industrious ex- 
 aminers of nature ; but why, since you so fully 
 agree with me so far, will you not admit that 
 man is also governed by similar rules, and that 
 what seems to him chance, is but the consequence 
 of law ; though a law covering so great an extent 
 of time and space, that we can scarcely compre- 
 hend or follow its o])erations ?" 
 
 "Because the whole ti'uor of revelation ex- 
 hibits to ns man, cast adrift as it were from his 
 right moorings ; an alien from the law which lie 
 has broken. You doubtless kirow my grounds
 
 CATHAL MORK. 25S 
 
 for trusting revelation in preference to arginnents, 
 liowever inwnious, of man's framing:." 
 
 " ]kit how do you account for accidents — for 
 events ? Do you join the worshii)pers of chance ? 
 I am on safer ground ; for I suppose a law 
 created by the first cause, to govern all," said 
 .Mr. Schelling. 
 
 " Following what I conceive to be the teach- 
 ing of the Bible, I consider all the events which 
 j)ersonally concern man — his good and happiness, 
 his evil and misfortune — to be brought about by 
 the agency of good and evil spirits." 
 
 " Such a belief in the nineteenth century !" 
 exclaimed Mr. Schelling, with a half-sneer ; " it 
 is worthy of the ninth ! I am myself not in- 
 credulous of the spiritual existencies ; but I hold 
 man to be equal to, and independent of them." 
 
 " In Scripture," said Mr. Hyde, regardless of 
 his manner, '' we find mysterious, but unmis- 
 takeable, mention made of their intervention in 
 the affairs of man. Glimpses of their being and 
 office are allowed \is ; and we must ever hold in 
 view, that the Bible is not a book intended 
 merely to show the world the principles and 
 belief of one man. Tiiere is nothing unneces- 
 sary for each individual in it ; and the mention of 
 angels is made, that we should believe in their
 
 254 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 I'xistcnco ; not that wo sliould simply ackiiow- 
 k'dgc that they have fi«jjurctl in the histories of 
 tlie patriarchs." 
 
 I observed that Mr. Schelhng never seemed to 
 approve the introduction of Holy Writ as an 
 evidence of truth, for he did not like to commit 
 the scandal of refusing its testimony ; and yet, 
 except as it agreed with his theories, it had no 
 weight with him. lie said to Mrs. More, after a 
 moment of pause — 
 
 " We have strayed far from our original starting 
 point, but now that you have heard both sides, 
 do you not think it more probable that there 
 should be a law, even though yet undefined, than 
 that there is a system of angeUc interference in 
 all that happens to us ?" 
 
 ''Perhaps so," she answered; "if revelation 
 did not show^ us providential agencies, and give 
 us to understand their intervention." 
 
 ** Well !" said Mr. Schelhng, trying to seem 
 good-humoured, " if you believe all that, you 
 have removed a strong prop to my argument for 
 animal magnetism ; for I was going to found it, 
 in a measure, on your assent, which I hoped to 
 gain, to the truth of there being a determined 
 law for every circumstance in our existences. 
 Animal magnetism 1 believe to be a clause in
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 255 
 
 tliis law. You, of course/' he added, scoffingly, 
 " believe mind and matter to be connected by 
 angels." 
 
 " Not so fast, Mr. Sclielling," interrupted Mr. 
 Hyde ; " I, indeed, resisted your theory, that all 
 oiu" circumstances are ordered by self-support - 
 ant laws, for that would be materialism ; and 1 
 denied that our acts are produced by any exter- 
 nal rule, for that is fatalism. There are natural 
 laws, I fully admit, for us; but they do not govern 
 our acts involuntarily, as they do the rest of crea- 
 tion — animal magnetism may be one of those 
 laws." 
 
 '' I think, like all unconcerned spectators of 
 disputes, I see better what you differ in, than 
 you do yourselves," said Mrs. More. "You 
 mean, Mr. Schelling, that, for all events, there 
 are exact imnmtable laws. You say, Mr. Hyde, 
 that man has left the goveniment of unchanging 
 natural rule, and come under a new supernatural 
 law, which is carried out by angelic machinery, 
 though the angels again use natural means in 
 their works." 
 
 "Yes !" said Mr. Schelling and his opponent, 
 instantaneously. 
 
 " Well ! for the sake of agreement," said Mr. 
 Schelling, " I will admit that the working of
 
 250 CATilAL MORE. 
 
 nniinal iimgnetisin maybe; overruled ; but you will 
 allow that by its agency exists the connexion 
 between mind and matter, whicli we see so con- 
 stantly and so mysteriously at work W 
 
 *' I do not see any objection to your theory," 
 answered Mr. Hyde. 
 
 "Well, is it not curious? This imperfectly- 
 discovered powTr ?" 
 
 " Yes !" said Mr. Hyde, '' and I the more wil- 
 lingly believe in it, in that I think its acknow- 
 ledgment may give an additional impulse to 
 religion." 
 
 "Really, I do not see how that should be!" 
 exclaimed Mr. Schelling, im|)atiently. " I am 
 not one of those who would narrow all science 
 to the bounds of a dogmatic creed or religious 
 system." 
 
 " Forgive me for saying, Mr. Schelling," said 
 Mr. Hyde, courteously but firmly, " that though 
 yom- religious system may not be sulficiently 
 Catholic to admit and comprehend all science, 
 ours claims to contain not only perfect goodness, 
 but perfect knowledge. It is the science of 
 sciences, into which all others merge ; and if 
 they be true, must of necessity tend," 
 
 Mr. Schelling looked angry, but he evidently 
 did not choose to enti'r into a discussion before
 
 CATHAL MORE. 257 
 
 his son, in which he niiglit be worsted — for he 
 abruptly changed the subject. 1 have said be- 
 fore, that even to his own rehgion, he was not 
 devoted, though pride and anger against Chris- 
 tians had made him a sincere hater of their faith, 
 lie was not, however, well versed in the ethics 
 of his party; for, exclusively worldly in his charac- 
 ter, physical and mechanical science had mostly 
 been his study. Unitarianism was his profession ; 
 but he had no religion. "Would that we had 
 known his real character, then ! Cathal was de- 
 ceived into admiration, for his zeal, and thought, 
 that though mistaken, it sprung from high and 
 right motives. So did his son ; and, though Mrs. 
 More had begun to distrust him, she, toe, gave 
 him credit for sincere devotion to his creed. He 
 had perceived that this was his strong-hold in 
 all their minds ; he was careful not to show any 
 ignorance in the tenets of his religion, and to 
 this end he dreaded their discussion. When 
 Mr. Hyde had spoken thus gravely, therefore, of 
 Catholicity, instead of replying, he turned to the 
 vomig ladies, and apologized to them for the 
 masculine and dry discussion in which he had 
 been engaged, pleading, however, that he was not 
 to blame. 
 
 *' I really think," he continued, " this place
 
 258 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 must be pervaded l)y t\w ^nnius of metaphysics; 
 I'or 110 sooner does one projmiind a simple matter 
 of seienec or quiet reason, than it takes to itself 
 wings, and Hies oil' into sonu; unknown exalted 
 region." 
 
 " Why unknown ?" said Agnes, in a (|uiet tone 
 of surprise, whieh quite diseomposed liim ; but 
 the dressing-bell rang, and we dispersed before 
 he had time to answer. 
 
 After dinner, I heard him again press Cathal 
 to fidfil his promise, not only in the letter, but in 
 the spirit, by seeing his intentions carried out, 
 and receiving for him the tenders of the Avorkmen. 
 
 " We have arranged the plan together," he 
 continued. " I will draw a rough sketch of it 
 to-night, enough to set the country masons going; 
 for I am a tolerable architect, and know something 
 of these matters." 
 
 ** You will tiiid it necessary, 1 suppose, to re- 
 turn in the spring, and sui)erintend the building?" 
 said Cathal, rather constrainedly ; *' for, of course, 
 you know, nothing but preliminaries can be done 
 at this season." 
 
 "Yes! yes! but 1 wish to have all ready to 
 set to work vigorously," interrupted Mr. Schelling 
 impatiently, "and to bepin the walls early in 
 March. I know how dilatory your Irish work-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 259 
 
 men arc, and, if we waited to make our bargains, 
 have the stones quarried, and the hme burnt till 
 then, the summer woukl be over before we liad 
 done any tiling satisfactorily. You have still per- 
 fect freedom of retracting your promise," he con- 
 tinued, — for a very visible cloud had gathered on 
 his host's brow, when he found himself thus 
 forced into actual participation in the under- 
 taking. " I do not wish to press yoi;, my dear 
 friend," he continued; " but are not your present 
 doubts and fears very inconsistent with your no- 
 tions last year? To aid you in your excellent plans, 
 1 made a great personal sacrifice, and, in return, 
 I only begged for a tolerant concession, which you 
 then acknowledged was not against your con- 
 science. We made our very sensible agreement 
 together. I was not wanting in mine, the more 
 difficult part. Are you now childishly forgetful 
 of the past ? You then trusted me, and considered 
 me as a friend. And now, when I have ])roved 
 myself to be one, you treat me with doubt and 
 distrust." 
 
 It was just the speech to cluck all Cathal's 
 rising vexation. After all, he knew nothing of 
 the evil within Mr. Schelling. It certainly was a 
 Christian duty to be tolerant, he thought, and his 
 honour was ])ledged. So he agreed, personally to 
 assist his friend in his plans, with a kind of ex-
 
 2G0 CATHAl, MOHF. 
 
 citemcnt and ontliusiasni, wliich overbore his right 
 instincts of dnty; overhorcr tor the time — l)ut there 
 is ahvtivs an iinpetns to riicht within ns, which 
 makes itself felt at last, however nmch we may 
 discourage it. It is like a clear fountain, which 
 will l)iil)l)lf uj), even tlioULch it he hound down l)v 
 the firmest mason-work man cmu huild around it. 
 
 There is no such thing as (hx'ision in men, un- 
 less they arc strictly guided by duty ; for once that 
 pole-star is lost sight of, they waiuler about in a 
 trackless sea of their own feelings and ])assions. 
 In the beginning of the day, Cathal had felt a dis- 
 like for Mr. Schelling, and distrust of his advice ; 
 and yet in the evening, an appeal to his honour 
 and kindly feelings had been all powerful with 
 him, and he was eager to vindicate them. Im- 
 ])ulses and right feelings seldom produce good ac- 
 tions, for they die away or change when the mo- 
 ment of action comes ; and even when they are 
 the means of good, it is through the over-ruling 
 of a higher Power, and not of our own will. 
 They are always utterly worthless to their follower. 
 
 But it is a foolish waste of time to write lessons 
 which the reader can readily draw for himself. 1 
 will eonlini; myself to my story, which will show 
 how Cathal was tossed about in his intentions 
 and views, because at the first ste]) he had looked
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 201 
 
 away from duty to philanthropy, and expediency ; 
 for though pliikinthropy is a beacon, to which we 
 must have regard in our voyage, as it helps to 
 point out the course, yet duty is the light to 
 which we must mideviatingly steer ; regardless 
 of the mischievous blaze of expediency kindled by 
 wreckers, who hope to gain, when we are lost on 
 their shore." 
 
 " Yes ! you arc right, Schelling," exclaimed 
 Cathal, as his guest finished speaking. " I will 
 help you, and it will not only be as a duty, but 
 with my good will. You rather offended me last 
 night, by dictating to me, as I thought." 
 
 " My dear fellow! I did not dream of dictating 
 — I only wanted to show you our clear positions in 
 this matter. I believe I have adopted some of 
 the EngHsh brusquerie," he added, with an air of 
 candom' ; " but I trusted you would fully under- 
 stand my good intentions." 
 
 " Say no more," interupted Cathal ; " let our 
 nmtual assistance be an understood and defined 
 arrangement from henceforth ; and you must con- 
 vince my mother of the misfortunes that intole- 
 rance has brought on her country." 
 
 " Why, partisanship has become quite a ha- 
 bit in Ireland, among those of your mother's 
 age ; as for to-night, I see Mr. Hyde has gone to
 
 2G2 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 the (Irawing-room witli Rupert ; and he is before 
 nie in the tielcl. Aj)ro|)os, he is a clever man ; 
 what a ])ity tliat he shoukl be in a profession 
 which necessarily narrows liis views." 
 
 " He could not very well be in a better," said 
 Cathal, rather warmly; tor he was stung by 
 the remark, as he had a high respect for all the 
 ministers of religion. 
 
 Mr. Schelling saw it was better not to press 
 his remarks on that subject. " Shall we go and 
 see what they are about?" he said. 1 had been 
 sitting in a dark corner, unobserved by them as 
 they talked ; and they left the room, while I 
 thought sorrowfully over the weakness, or rather 
 indolence of thought, which was leading Cathal 
 into such unfortunate acts. The evening was 
 spent in music. Agnes and Catherine singing 
 some of the old-fashioned duets, in which the 
 melody seems to wander about, losing itself in 
 mazes of harmony, and then returning bar by 
 bar, part by part, imtil melody and harmony form 
 one perfect whole. Among his other tastes, Ru- 
 pert Schelling was intensely, dreamily, musical, 
 lie was weak in bodily strength, — his physical 
 constitution was frail, and so he h;ul cultivated 
 his powers of reception, while his powers of ac- 
 tion lay unused, until sweet sounds and all the in-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 2G3 
 
 fluences which come u})on us, from without by the 
 " large joy of sight and touch," had gained such 
 constant entrance, that they had become ahnost 
 necessary to him, eagerly feeding on them as he 
 (Hd. His eyes gleamed with pleasure as he lis- 
 tened to Catherine's clear soprano voice, relieved 
 by tlie mellow contralto which seemed to pour, 
 without an effort, almost involuntarily, from Agnes. 
 Mr. Schelling joined ]\Irs. More ; he knew a 
 good deal of the science of music, and had in- 
 vented some valuable improvements in the me- 
 chanism of pianos. But it spoiled the effect of 
 the soft accompaniment Agnes was playing, to hear 
 of the machinery by which it was produced. He 
 was very disenchanting, and there was a narrow- 
 ness, an angularity about his thoughts, which 
 made them felt with sharp unpleasantness. They 
 were always sure to awaken any auditors of his, 
 if they had ventured into Dreamland, to a sense 
 of the materialism in all around them. His con- 
 versations and mind seemed a resume of the ac- 
 curate sciences. He had gathered knowledge 
 from the exterior of things ; he knew the forms 
 and size, so to speak, of the facts around him, but 
 he felt not their real import — he was blind to their 
 true uses ; those true uses which Mrs. More found 
 for all things — the uses of all-embracing Catholic
 
 104 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 religion. Mr. Sclu'lliiii^^ and Mrs. More were 
 singularly antagonistic in all thrir tendencies, and 
 on almost all subjects tluv diHrnd. He saw in 
 things only their l)arc Inn nan uses, — but the type 
 of truth. She looked beyond the type, to the real 
 meaning. Our senses contact matter, yet imtil we 
 distil the sj)irit-truth from the meeting such expe- 
 rience avails nothing ; for it is only the hidden im- 
 port in things which can be said indeed to be true. 
 It is good to discern it — it is good, like Mrs. More, 
 to trace it to its fountain, even from the smallest 
 springs, and the most insignificant facts.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I DID not meet the Scliellings again. Nor, in- 
 deed, did I much wish to see them ; for the elder 
 was associated in my mind with very painful 
 thoughts of Cathal's dereliction from duty, and 
 Mrs. i\Iore's consequent annoyance. Since his 
 first arrival, there had not been the same com- 
 plete harmony which before had existed between 
 mother and son : there was not absolute dis- 
 union ; in manner he was as kind as ever, and she 
 as trusting j but I, who knew them so well, could 
 perceive the cloud which had come between them, 
 the cloud of difference on religious opinion, which 
 is so alienating when it separates those who are 
 earnest on the subject. Even Mrs. More's kind 
 manner had not altogether taken the sting from 
 her disagreement with her son ; they were not on 
 such trusting terms as formerly. There was a 
 sHght tinge of bitterness in his feelings on the 
 matter, for he felt himself disn])proved by his 
 mother, and Mr. Hyde, to whose judgment he 
 had for so long trusted ; and even iMajor Wynd- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 2G6 CATIIAL MORR. 
 
 liain si'( iiu'd to take a higher standard than he 
 did. lie found himself, in a manner, separated 
 from all his old ties at home, and thrown upon 
 his own independenee, and the friendship of Mr. 
 Sclielling. He did not admit to himself how 
 <j:reat an influence had been gained over him : 
 })erha])s he scarcely knew it, but his indolence 
 prompted him to lean on sonu; one ; and the very 
 act by which he had alienated himself from the 
 confidence of his old supports, had thrown him 
 on Mr. Schelling for strength and advice. 
 
 His new friend, by his versatile talent and acute 
 judgment of human nature, was especially suited 
 to influence and guide all who were too weak, or 
 too indolent, to judge for themselves. Over many 
 he had gained great influence, and he had been 
 able to achieve much success in the propagation 
 (^f his theories ; a success which seemed unlikely 
 to be attained by one comparatively insignificant 
 man, and which I scarcely believed when I 
 afterwards heard of it, until proofs were set 
 before me, of the extent of his machinations. 
 It was strange, too, how much disunion he 
 had introduced among families, by his per- 
 nicious principles, which he veiled under the 
 greatest seeming uprightness. Only ]\Irs. More's 
 admirable temper and forbearance, and her son's 
 aflcction for her, guarded their mutual love
 
 CATHAL MORE. 267 
 
 and confidence from being even more deeply in- 
 jm'cd. After this second visit of ]\Ir. Schelling's, 
 Cathal became silent, and pre-occupied ; and very 
 different from the gay, light-hearted young man, 
 of the year before. 
 
 This change might perhaps have been partly 
 accounted for, by the increase of business on his 
 hands ; for he had given himself up to the ma- 
 nagement of his estate, and his duties as a country 
 gentleman. Amongst his labom's, was the foun- 
 dation of the Unitarian chapel, for \\hich Mr. 
 Schelling had left him a plan. He had become 
 almost callous to any sensation of pain, as he laid 
 out the work, and superintended its progress ; for 
 he carefully avoided thinking of its purpose, and 
 the dangerous effects it might have; he went 
 through his undertaking, as if it were an ordinary 
 improvement ; watching the stone and mortar 
 progress, but dismissing all care for the evil, for 
 which he was building a future stronghold. 
 
 His mother seldom walked near that part of the 
 park where the chapel was being built. She be- 
 came delicate in health, for anxiety broke her 
 down, and enfeebled her naturally slight consti- 
 tution ; still she did not cease in one of her 
 good works ; and perhaps only my eye, accus- 
 tomed to mark the changes from health to disease, 
 
 N 2
 
 2C8 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 would have observed the sinking of her strength. 
 In lier expeditions to visit the poor, in which she 
 often cliose mo for her conn)anion, she was some- 
 times forced to stop and rest l)etween the cottages. 
 I became uneasy, and prescribed for her every 
 tonic I coukl j)rc'pare ; but wliat coukl I do ? 
 What could medicine do ? The canker which 
 was undermining her health, was her son's con- 
 duct, and the consequent blight on their mutual 
 confidence and affection, which had been before, 
 always so great a satisfaction to her. 
 
 As I said, Cathal was quite devoted to busi- 
 ness during this spring of '46 — so much so, 
 that I think he scarcely perceived his mother's 
 increased weakness, and the advance of old age, 
 which had come with such rapid strides upon 
 her, since his concession to Mr. Schelling. He 
 seemed to fear to look at home ; he hardened 
 himself against all the home influences and home 
 feelii\gs which had formerly had so right a sway 
 over him ; and he betook himself to work — to 
 continual enq)loymcnt — that he might avoid 
 thought. It seems to me a strange mistake of 
 so many, who cry u[) the uses of incessant work, 
 making all virtue to lie in it, and all vice to 
 proceed from its cessation. Labour seems to 
 mc a curse, which we are indeed forced to suffer,
 
 CATHAL MORE. 269 
 
 but in wliicli, I cannot see why we should de- 
 Hght. I speak of labour, not of occupation — 
 labour is the excess of occupation, and often 
 prevents it ; it is the exaggeration of the happy 
 fulfilment of our powers — which was our original 
 state — even as all our sins and misfortunes are 
 the exaggeration of some primeval perfection. 
 
 Happiness is said to exist most pure among 
 those who are debarred from thought, by con- 
 tinuous labour ; yet I think it is but relief from 
 pain which is thus gained, for nothing but con- 
 templation and earnest thought, can confer true 
 happiness, or real content ; for in the mind, not 
 the body, lies our real being ; and in exercising 
 the powers of the mind, — in the peacefid and 
 unstrained employment which is natural to them, 
 may we alone find lasting comfort. The peace 
 which labour gives, is but a torpid sleep of our 
 true selves; at last, there w^l come an inevit- 
 able waking. Cathal became immersed in busi- 
 ness — the greatest misfortune, I think, which 
 can occur to men ; hardening, — obliterating every 
 feeling, every tendency which might lead us to 
 our future, and spirit, existence. 
 
 In all the duties which partook of business, he 
 was exact as ever — in his attendance at chiu*ch, in 
 bis gifts to the poor, in all externals ; but his
 
 270 CATHAL Monr:. 
 
 internal love of right, his heart-felt charity, his 
 religious devotion, were, for the, time, inert ; the 
 sorrowful consequence almost always ensuent, on 
 wilful opposition, or even blindness to right. 
 
 iMr. Hyde had seen the foundations of the 
 new chapel laid, with feelings of just indignation 
 at Cathal's weakness, in listening to, and follow- 
 ing, such advice as Mr. Schelling's. Our Rector 
 was a man of unflinching boldness, when wrong 
 came before him, in his denunciation of it ; he 
 did not, therefore, lightly pass over this insult 
 to Christianity, perpetrated by his principal 
 and most influential parishioner ; one from 
 whom he had been justified in expecting better 
 things. He could not meet with undiminish- 
 ed friendship a man whom he so seriously 
 blanied; at least, his former feelings of an 
 almost fatherly partiality were checked ; and the 
 intercourse between the manor-house and the 
 rectory was necessarily less frequent, and less 
 cordial than before. Mrs. jMore was as devoted 
 jis ever to his daughters, and they were as much 
 as before with her, indeed almost more, for she felt 
 that she was growing weak, and old ; and she 
 was diligent in her care for their advancement 
 and improvement, in tnith and excellence. It 
 was melancholy to see how care was beginning
 
 CATRAL MORE. 271 
 
 to leave its print on Cathal ; his hair akoady 
 showed some streaks of gray, and his forehead was 
 deeply marked with the furrows of pain, not 
 thought. How different these two expressions 
 are ! the slight horizontal lines, adding dignity 
 to the countenance, and the strong indentures 
 caused by the frown of grief and care. He often 
 spent the evenings at work in his study, not 
 even coming into the drawing-room ; and he was 
 always engaged during the day — in fact, he 
 became estranged from the circle he had so much 
 delighted in ; for both his pride and affection 
 were wounded by the disapprobation with which 
 even though unexpressed, he felt his former 
 friends regarded him. Pride and affection were 
 his most predominant characteristics, and he suffer- 
 ed intently when either was hurt. His youth had 
 been almost cloudless, and from its novelty he 
 seemed to feel more deeply the sorrow and pain 
 which had come upon him. Sorrow and pain ! 
 the refiner's fire, through which we must needs 
 pass; that bitter hyssop, with which all thres- 
 holds must be sprinkled, that the angel of deat-ii 
 enter not in. 
 
 Major Wyndham went to England, for his 
 usual leave, in the spring mouths ; and he had 
 also some arran icemen ts to make for his cominur
 
 •272 CATIIAL MO HE. 
 
 marriiige ; for it had Ix'comc a tacit iiiuliTstaiuI- 
 iiiir between him and Catherine, tliat he should 
 be forgiven, though thi'y liad never, by even a 
 word, violated their parole to Mrs. More and 
 Mr. Hyde. Honour would always have deter- 
 mined him to such conduct ; but now his reve- 
 rence for ]\lr. Hyde, as a clergyman of that 
 church of which he had become so earnest a 
 member, added to his strict sense of right. It 
 was fortunate that in his course through life he 
 had met with such a character as Mrs. More, 
 for he was refined and fastidious by nature, to 
 an unusual degree ; and it needed her purity of 
 thought, and her refinement, greater than ever 
 he had before met, — united as they were in her, 
 to the highest principle, — to convince him that 
 they were the consequence of it. He had spent 
 nuich time in an unsuccessful search for his 
 beau-ideal in refinement ; for the best sustained 
 polish of manner, when unaccompanied by inward 
 right, had always at last betrayed its hoUowness. 
 But he had been much struck in his conversation 
 with Mrs. More, by the manner in which she 
 had laid bare to him the true sources of refine- 
 ment ; and he found his dream of perfection 
 realized in her. He eagerly adopted, at first, 
 for the gratification of his taste — but afterwards
 
 CATHAL MORE. 273 
 
 from true feelings of devotion — " her God for his 
 God ; her people for his people." 
 
 In Catherine, he first admired her purity of 
 feeling and taste; but as he learned to appreciate 
 its source, his approval heightened into admi- 
 ration. The delay hi their engagement had been 
 of great service to both ; for they became assi- 
 milated and fitted for union, during this year of 
 probation. AVas there ever an event which was 
 not calculated for good, if by our bad reception 
 of it we have not frustrated its intent ? 
 
 I have dwelt perhaps too long on this painful 
 spring time. It was unmarked by aught unusual, 
 except by a hasty visit for a day, in the month of 
 March, from Mr. Schelling. His son did not ac- 
 company him ; perhaps his father rather dreaded 
 what he considered the dangerous influence of 
 Mrs. j\Iore, of which he had before noticed the 
 effects. I did not see him on this occasion, as a 
 case, on which I was attending, occupied my 
 time and attention, and Mrs. More told me that 
 she too had seen but little of him, for that he 
 spent the whole morning with her son, engaged 
 in business, and giving orders and directions to a 
 master mason, whom he had brought with him 
 
 from the town of . Cathal said nothing 
 
 to me on the subject, but I could see by the 
 
 N 3
 
 274 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 rapid advance of the chai)cl, that the work had 
 received a vigorous impidsc. It promised to 
 be a really beautiful edifice, iu the early English 
 style ; and by its synnnetry, it at once reminded 
 me of the beauty of a graccfid tree, which is said 
 to be the type of gothic architecture. 
 
 Mr. Schelling neglected no means of appealing 
 to the love of beauty inherent in us, in his work. 
 He judged wisely, more wisely than those who 
 neglect this love ; for every right taste and prin- 
 ciple in us is intended to be, and shoidd be, 
 made instrumental to the highest purpose — all 
 should merge into it. Nor is religion perfect, 
 until 'OUT nature and impulses, our love of beauty, 
 music, painting, poetry, all that is dear to us, be 
 mcorporated with it. I am siu^e Mr. Schelling 
 thought not of the reasons why religion shoidd 
 thus take captive all oiu- right feelings, all that 
 is good, or pure in us ; but he had noted that it 
 did, and he had seen the extraordinary spread of 
 creeds which do not neglect to appeal to our 
 whole nature ; Catholic they may truly be called. 
 
 Why do some sincere religionists narrow their 
 appeals to mere reason — to a single faculty, and 
 that perhaps not the most perfect we possess ? 
 Does not religion require the renewal of our 
 whole nature ? Is not its end the perfection of
 
 CATHAL MORE. 275 
 
 all our gifts ? Should not then our whole nature 
 assist in the great work, and should not all our 
 gifts minister to tlieii' own purification ? We 
 are given many talents — shall we only traffic with 
 one ? Would that men would see the universality 
 of Christianity, and how it embraces all their 
 powers in its vastness ; and cease in their effort 
 to compass it about, with but one of their gifts ! 
 After all, they who do so weakly and presump- 
 tuously attempt, but gain the cold shadow of a 
 fruitless, though dogmatic creed. It is said, that 
 it is a lowering of Christianity, appealing to our 
 human nature in its behalf. But what is Chris- 
 tianity ? W^hat is religion ? It is not, surely, 
 only a logical description of God, or a mere 
 curious system, unrelating to man. Is it not, 
 our rehgion ? and intended for the salvation of 
 me7i ? and its whole purpose an appeal to hiunan 
 nature ? It seems to me a great error, and a 
 great misfortune, this externalizing of religion. 
 Suppose the benefits of the sun depended on 
 our reception of them, as those of Christianity 
 do ; and that we spent our lives in measuring 
 his altitude and extent, and neglected to draw 
 down his beams on earth, and forgot to employ 
 his beneficent influence on all nature, leaving it 
 in cold, dying barrenness. — And yet many treat
 
 27G CATHAL MORE. 
 
 Christianity in this way. 'Hwy believe in it, 
 they measure it, and spend their lives in caleu- 
 lating its form and extent ; but yet they will not 
 use it in the IVuctit'ying of their nature. They 
 will not see that for this, was it revealed, and 
 that iVum no |)art of nature, human nature, ean 
 its rays, without injury, be withdrawn. 
 
 The unornamental barn-like ehurches, which 
 so often disgrace our worship, are a type of this 
 reasonable narrowness. Utility, the counteq)art of 
 reason, in acts, is alone consulted in them, to the 
 exclusion of imagination, beauty, that faith which 
 would sacrifice worldly riches to God's honour, 
 and often, even truth, by false imitations, which 
 are excused on the ])k'a that ''they will do as well I' 
 It is true, Christianity needs not ornaments of 
 human invention, nor to be propped up by 
 human support, but tre need to sacrifice our all 
 to it — to ofl'er u\) our every talent in the service 
 to which we are called. 
 
 Mr. Schellinpr, as I have said, did not work 
 from the impulse of even his religion ; but 
 worldly wisdom and ex])(*rience had taught him 
 the power which all faiths gain, when they come 
 to us through the wide channel of our aspira- 
 tions for whatever is lovely. Alas ! that that 
 chamiel has not been more carefully employed
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 277 
 
 by our own church. Fewer sects, fewer heresies, 
 woukl then iiave detiled her robe ; and because 
 anotlier church has made use of it to introduce 
 evil, we should not, therefore, have ueglected so 
 important a mean. 
 
 Major Wyndham did not return from England 
 until the very day before his year of probation 
 expired, when he made his appearance at 
 Cappagh. 
 
 '* I should have found it very hard," he said 
 to Mrs. More, as they walked together after din- 
 ner, in the summer twilight, " I shoidd have 
 been too painfully tantalized, if I had been here 
 much this spring ; the remembrance of last year's 
 happiness, the prospect before me, would have 
 sadly tried my patience." 
 
 " And did you feel no doubts, no re-attraction 
 to the world, when you were in the world's Eden 
 — London ?" asked Mrs. More. 
 
 " I deserve such a question," he answered, 
 '' and yet it is a severe one ; will you not give 
 me credit for any reason, or memory, — for any 
 improvement ?" 
 
 ** 1 do, indeed, give you credit for all three," 
 said Mrs. More, aft'ectionately ; " but where were 
 they this time last year?" 
 
 ** Let that be a dream, past — for ever past,"
 
 279 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 exclaimed Major Wyndham ; " does not Catherine 
 forgive ? Why may not I forget ?" 
 
 " Nothing is past," answered Mrs. More, 
 gravely. " Our mortality creates a past and a 
 future, but, in truth, neither exists." 
 
 *' A fearful thought for those who seek peace 
 from oblivion," said her companion. 
 
 " But a happy one, for all who silently, continu- 
 ously, follow duty," returned Mrs. More. "My dear 
 friend, ever think of these things ; forgetfulness is 
 but an opiate ; painful and awful must be the 
 awakcming from a rest gained by such means." 
 
 " I trust I may never cease to think of all 
 that you have taught me," said he, fervently. 
 
 " What your nature, and God's teaching, 
 through our church, have taught you," said Mrs. 
 More, reprovingly. 
 
 *' I shall ever associate you with them, as their 
 instrument," said Major Wyndham; " andean I, 
 for a moment forget you, while Catherine is by 
 my side?" 
 
 " She will, I trust, be a reminder to you of 
 riG:ht," answered Mrs. More. " She is a beloved 
 daughter to me, and yet I willingly entrust her 
 to you ; if, when I am gone," she continued, after 
 an instant's pause, " you should think of me with 
 kindness, remember this trust ; I do not recom- 
 mend her to yoiu* love — to your present feelings ;
 
 CATHAL MORE. 279 
 
 they, I know, need no fui'tlier impulse ; but by the 
 thoughts of what you have first known here, 
 guard her from all moral harm." 
 
 '*I will," answered Major Wyndham, earnestly; 
 " the memory of you, and of this year of my 
 life, shall be ever present with me.*' 
 
 They did not know I heard them, as they 
 passed and repassed the drawing-room window 
 in which I sat, or how their voices were softened 
 by the summer breeze, until they sounded like 
 the whisperings of superior spirits ; and, when 
 they came in, the illusion was hardly dispelled, 
 for their earnest peaceful countenances were 
 lighted by the mysterious glow following the 
 summer sunset, which streamed in through the 
 windows. 
 
 It was settled that Major Wyndham should go 
 to the rectory, to ask forgiveness and renewed 
 love from Catherine ; it was but a form — for 
 they had for long been silently granted. Yet he 
 longingly had wished for this formal reinstalla- 
 tion in her confidence, that he might again wan- 
 der with liLT through the intricacies of the sum- 
 mer wood, and the still more sunshiny and simi- 
 mery mazes of their own minds. 
 
 A ray of this sunshine seemed to have fallen 
 on all of us, even on Cathal, as we met the next
 
 280 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 evening at dinner at Caj)j)agli ; it was a tempo- 
 rary break in the cloud which had fallen over 
 our small society. We could not, any of us, 
 refuse to rejoice in the happiness of two so dear 
 to us ; and, besides, it seemed almost too much 
 for tlu'in — overflowing, — and their companions 
 nnist needs receive some drops from their full 
 cup. It was pleasant to welcome back the look 
 of ease and contentment on Cathal's face, which 
 had been so long a stranger there ; and we were, 
 for the day, ahnost more happy than before we 
 knew what it was, not to be. Agnes joined in 
 his feehng of reUef ; for, already, though un- 
 known to her, she was impressed by his impres- 
 sions. She did not measure her sensations, for 
 she was not one of those who dissect their every 
 feeling, and hers were too deep, perhaps too sen- 
 sitive, to allow of such a process. Though she 
 h)ved, she did not know it ; for the depth, and 
 height and breadth of her love, covered and in- 
 cluded her powers of calculation and analyzation ; 
 they were powerless to count the degree of its 
 greatness, though clear to judge of right ; clear to 
 measure the fitness of her acts ; clear in that hu- 
 man, mortal knowledge of right and wrong, wliich 
 is the painfid consequence, and antidote to, our fall. 
 Hut what have reason, knowlodi^e .wisdom, to do
 
 CATRAL MORE. 281 
 
 with the great principle of love? they cannot 
 judge of it ; it is too high for them, even tlie 
 mortal and fallen branch of this great tree of 
 life — human Love ; it is immeasurable and un- 
 controhable by our other gifts, for they proceed 
 from, and finish in it. Agnes had much love, 
 love for both God and man — the first governing 
 duty, the second, benevolence, pervaded her 
 thoughts and acts. It seems, perhaps, irreve- 
 rend and imsuitable, to })lace in the same list 
 her growing attection for Cathal ; yet I think not 
 — for it was an impulse of that energy of life — 
 a branch of the higher principle, which controlled 
 her life. 
 
 Do not, good reader, think me foohshly enthu- 
 siastic in this description of Agnes. There are, 
 truly, few like her on earth; but, if you have 
 not chanced to meet them in your path, do not, 
 therefore, disbelieve in the existence of here and 
 there a mortal angel, reviving and strengthening 
 our belief in the existence of their home — Heaven, 
 and their fellows, — the spirits there. They arc 
 rare, perhaps, and one like Agnes 1 had never 
 met, nor do I ever expect to meet. She was 
 eclectic, hisomuch as she had gathered good from 
 all things, and the tares of error seemed to 
 take no root in her. She was a Saint Agnes and
 
 282 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 Saint Lucia united — purity and love. I must 
 be enthusiastic, when I think and write of her. 
 You do not know lier, liowever ; you will not be 
 much ^viser from my iiii[)erfcct description, so I 
 nmst needs be silent, though I would gladly write 
 books and books, in her praise. 
 
 Major Wyndliajii's marriages was cjuicklysettled, 
 and no delay occurred, or was allowed to occur, 
 in the necessary arrangements. The settlements 
 were mostly to be made on his side, for, as a 
 clergyman's daughter, Catherine's fortune was 
 not large, and it was perfectly accessible and 
 manageable, as it was invested in the funds, 
 lie had given a draft of his intentions to his 
 solicitor before he left England, and much pre- 
 liminary ground had been got over, that all might 
 be in readiness for his quick release from pro- 
 bation. All his plans were on a scale of such 
 magnificence towards his future wife, in the mat- 
 ters of pin-money and jointure ; with such con- 
 siderate kindness to every wish she had ever in- 
 advertently expressed, that the only objections 
 raised, were to his over-generosity, scruples to 
 wliich he would not for a moment attend. 
 
 When first he had become attached to his 
 daughter, Mr. Hyde had not known enough of his 
 future son-in-law to feel any of the confidence of
 
 CATHAL MORE. 2S3 
 
 friendsliip towards him; he had given his consent, 
 but it was more from the attachment which Cathe- 
 rine felt, and ^Irs. IMore's predilection for Major 
 Wyndliam, than from his own decision ; but he 
 had noticed, with satisfaction, his growth in all 
 good ; he had often found him a companion in his 
 highest thoughts, and he had become to him 
 more than a mere son-in-law — a personal and 
 valued friend, to whom he gladly and con- 
 fidently gave his daughter. Major Wyndham, 
 too, had learned to respect Mr. Hyde's character, 
 and to admire his distinguished wisdom — the 
 wisdom not of the world, not of e^erience, but 
 gained from a higher source. 
 
 There were a certain sternness and command 
 in our rector, which were well calculated to create 
 respect in Major Wyndliam ; for he was not one of 
 those who dislike strong determination in others, 
 because they are themselves weak, and fear to be 
 influenced. On the contrary, he reverenced the 
 unflinchuig adherence to principle, and the un- 
 dcviating upward course which marked every 
 act of Mr. Hyde's. He was a man of the mould 
 of St. James ; stem in his denunciation and dis- 
 like of wrong, leaning more in ])redilection to 
 the poor than to the rich. Strict in justice, 
 liigli and pure in his estimates of duty, his
 
 2S4 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 mind possessed rather noble, athletic, idealized 
 strength, than grace and beauty ; he was a Her- 
 cnles rather than an Apollo ; a gladiator, ready to 
 light with wild beasts at Ephesus, rather than a 
 charmer, charming the serpents of sin by soft- 
 ening art.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The month of June, '46, was marked by sin- 
 gular heat and di-yness, to a degree that was op- 
 pressive to us, inhabitants of so temperate a 
 chmate, unprepared as we are, by ingenious con- 
 trivances, to ward off the inconveniences oi too 
 much sun. 
 
 At mid-day we sometimes adjourned to the 
 waterfall, which fell so far clear of the rocks over 
 which it dashed, that one could creep under it, 
 and sit in a bower of over-arching spray, enjoying 
 the cool breeze that its fall always created ; and, 
 if a ray of s\ni reached us, it was caught in the 
 prism of the falling water, and came upon us with 
 the colouring of a painted window. The trees 
 above interlaced their branches, until one could 
 fancy oneself in a ruined cathedral, through 
 whose broken roof the sky looked like blue 
 Mosaic work. 
 
 But we were not often so selfish as to intrude 
 on this retreat, for it was mostly occupied by 
 Major Wyndham and his betrothed, a fitting place
 
 286 CATRAL MORE. 
 
 for tlicni, fur the whispering of the water, without 
 the little cave, guarded their discourse from any 
 curious ears, while they plaiiiird tin ir future life, 
 and described the past. And if they were hidden 
 from even their friends at Cappagh, I must not 
 repeat their converse to chance readers. 
 
 At last, the day before their marriage arrived — • 
 a day of such mingled hopes and fears, and 
 such quickly-changing joy and sorrow to the bride, 
 that her thoughts, by their hurrying alternation, 
 scarcely seemed her own — w^lien reflection was 
 impossible, and her whole being was in such an 
 eddy of contending feelings, that she was as in a 
 dream, — that strange condition, w^hen reason seems 
 to leave us, though all our other powers yet exist. 
 Disjointed fragments of her past life, chased by 
 thoughts of the future — her woman-love for her 
 husband competing with her deep sisterly devo- 
 tion — thankfulness for the past, and thoughts of 
 its happiness, hopes for the future, preparations for 
 new duties, sorrow for the neglect of those which 
 had been unfulfilled even in her pure youth, made 
 a conflict of sensations so overpowering, that she 
 begged to be alone for a time ; and some hours 
 after, we found her, wearied by emotion, asleep 
 under the protecting branches of a beech near the 
 house. She slept, and Major Wyndham watched
 
 CATHAL MORE. 287 
 
 her, until tlic dews began to fall, and she must 
 needs be awaked. Then she walked dreamily 
 home, silently leaning on his arm ; Avhilc the moon 
 cast a silver cloak over them, and gazed down into 
 her blue eyes, where it saw its own innocence re- 
 flected, and felt a kind of sisterhood with her ; 
 for while she slept had not her spirit been " com- 
 mercing with the skies," and the turmoil of her 
 thoughts hushed, and peace substituted ? 
 
 Peace ! we all felt its influence ; and even in 
 Cathal, for that evening, the tyranny of his care 
 was overpast. We sat silent and quieted, not 
 caring to break the spell by general conversation ; 
 but Agnes opened the piano noiselessly, and, w^hen 
 she played the symphony of Handel's pastoral, 
 " How beautiful are the feet !" w^e felt that she had 
 touched chords to which all our thoughts were in 
 unison ; and my imagination almost persuaded 
 me, that the soft rustle of the evtsning breeze, 
 among the leaves, was the voice of nature joining 
 in our anthem of unspoken happiness. 
 
 The wedding morning rose brightly, and not a 
 cloud fit eked the sky during the whole day — a 
 rare event in Ireland. No cloud was on the ho- 
 rizon of their hopes, as the bride and bridegroom 
 drove from the Rectory, after the church had pro- 
 nounced their union.
 
 2^8 CATnAL MORE. 
 
 Of course, \vc could but trcl their departure 
 as a seriou* loss in our pleasant ronnnnnings, and 
 for soni(^ days, grave looks and silence put to flight 
 all gaiety ; but almost immediately afterwards, 
 the great desolation of '46 al)sorl)ed all lesser and 
 personal regrets. It was ])ut two days after the 
 wedding, that I b(»gan to observe the singular at- 
 mospheric phenomena, which were the precursors 
 of the destruction — the total annihilation of the 
 food, which was almost the only sustenance of six 
 millions. The heat had become nearly overpower- 
 ing, and all nature lay panting in it. The streams 
 and ponds in our neighbourhood were for the most 
 part dried up, and a malaria rose from the dead 
 fishes and water insects in them. The grass broke 
 short off", and crackled under my feet, and sheep 
 and cattle found with difficulty, stray tufts that 
 were not withered by the smi. 
 
 I remember one day, nearly the last of the 
 scorching sunshine, as I was out visiting a child 
 who had suff'ered slightly from coup de soleil, see- 
 ing a singular haze over the landscape, on which 
 were reflected trees and fields, while a broad 
 glassy lake seemed to bomid the horizon. The 
 picture was not still, but waved to and fro 
 with a quivering motion, that made me giddy to 
 look at. I suppose it was a mirage, caused by the
 
 CATHAL MORE. 289 
 
 heated air ; but the state of the atmosphere which 
 produced it, had a ciu'ious effect on me, producing 
 a violent headache and giddiness, which histed for 
 two or three days. 1 was forced to he down for 
 an hoiu- or two after my return ; and, when I again 
 looked out, to my delight, — for the severe drought 
 had injured the country very much, — I saw a 
 heavy cloud, shaped like a pillar, advancing ra- 
 pidly across the sky. It had already ol)scured 
 the sun, and the hushed darkness which ensued, 
 was not unlike the effect of an eclipse. The cloud 
 was of a copper colour, unusual in Ireland, and 
 on some of its involutions, — for it seemed to ad- 
 vance in circles — there was a strange livid glow, as 
 if great furnace fires were reflected on them. I 
 stood with a sensation of awe, watching the signs 
 of the coming storm ; and, as the broken masses 
 of cloud came over me, I Hstened eagerly for the 
 rain-drops, which I momentarily expected. But 
 on and on they moved, with a fearful gloom, until 
 the whole sky was overcast, yet without bringhig 
 even a breath of damp air. They seemed to breathe 
 down heat, upon the already parched earth ; and 
 hanging over it like a pall, to press back on us 
 the exhalations, which before, had, at least, risen 
 into the sky. I sat watching the overspn^ad 
 heavens, until night came. It brought no relief, 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 not even tlu; coolness of darkness, for the sk\ 
 glowed luridly, casting a glare over every object. 
 I started, as I used my }X)cket-handkerchief, for 
 the white caught the rays of light, and looked in 
 the twilight almost as if it were tinged by blood. 
 I listened for the hum which usually arises from 
 insects before rain ; not a sound was audible, 
 and even the villagers' voices were hushed. At 
 last, I could no longer bear the strange influence 
 the weather exercised on me, and I went out, 
 j'attling some keys that were in my pocket, I re- 
 member, that there might be a break to the 
 d(^ath-like silence. I walked to the nearest rising 
 ground, to look out for further signs of the threat- 
 ened storm ; but not a leaf was stirring. I saw 
 a bird sitting on a spray, which crossed my path ; 
 it did not move as I approached, and allowed me 
 to take it with little cHfficulty. That incident, 
 small as it was, filled me with aw^e. " Is God so 
 near," I thought, *' that his creatui'es forget their 
 relations to each other ?" 
 
 From the first rising ground I came to, I per- 
 ceived the source of the firehght which was spread 
 over the sky ; for, to the east, the horizon gleamed 
 with lightning, not in occasional flashes, but 
 spread along it, like a sheet of flame. 
 
 1 am not, I think, weak or superstitious be-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 291 
 
 yond most men ; but considerations of reason 
 and science disappeared from my mind, as 1 
 gazed, and I felt impelled to bow my head in 
 awe before the handwriting on the heavens ; and, 
 when I did so, I heard a low roll and mutter of 
 thunder, which seemed to proceed less from the 
 sky than from the ground I stood on, until 1 
 could almost fancy I felt its vibrations. 
 
 I could not choose but gaze at the red sky, 
 and listen to the deepening roar, until every 
 faculty was absorbed in attention. 
 
 Gradually the sparks and flashes spread from 
 the horizon upwards, darting forward towards 
 the zenith, as if to set it too on fire, and lighting 
 up, as they passed, the caverns of cloud. 
 
 At last, a dazzling, blinding brightness fell 
 upon me ; I heard a strange rustling of leaves — 
 and then I must have become insensible, for 
 when I recovered, it was dayhght, and I was in 
 my own room. I eagerly inquired what had hap- 
 pened ; and I heard that some one, attracted out 
 by the same wonder as myself, had found me 
 lying on the ground, hard by a lightning- blasted 
 tree ! 
 
 It was between nine and ten when I became 
 sufficiently strong, again to watch the weather 
 from my window. No rain had fallen, the 
 
 o 2
 
 292 CATH AL MORE. 
 
 (i.irk firry cloud yet hung oj)prcssivcly over 
 the earth ; and though the thunder was more 
 distant, and the hghtning less frequent or 
 visible by daylight, a continuous muffled roll 
 was still to \)v iicard, silencing every other voice 
 ot Nature. Mvcn the air seemed paralyzed, for 
 not a breath stirred, to dispel the sulphureous 
 vapoiu- which filled the atmosphere. 
 
 I was too ill to leave my room ; but both Mr. 
 Hyde and Cathal came to visit me, when they 
 heard of my accident. They, too, had been 
 strangely startled by the storm, and Cathal had 
 a long list of casualties caused by it, of which 
 to tell me. 
 
 " It is strange, tliat no rain falls," he said ; 
 "the country looks black from drought, and 
 every thing green, is shrivelled as if it had been 
 scorched ; the cattle seem scared by the light- 
 ning, and will not eat." 
 
 The storm continued thus for two days and 
 mghts, during which the distant thunder ceased 
 not to roll at intervals, while the heavens re- 
 mained red and fiery, heavily clouded, and yet 
 not distilling one drop of moisture. 
 
 T observed that while this weather lasted, 
 several of my patients, who were but slightly ill, 
 were strannrelv delirious. Delirium showed itself
 
 CATHAL MORE. i^'J3 
 
 ill diseases, in which, till then, I had never ob- 
 served it. 
 
 At last, fell the rain — rain, the violence of wliicli, 
 equalled the preceding storm. I scarcely re- 
 member a lull in the heavy splash of the thunder- 
 drops, during the whole of the second week m 
 July ; but, for hours, the hardened eartli would 
 not receive them, and running down our moun- 
 tains in streams, collected in great floods, which 
 covered the low grounds, undermining the mud- 
 walls of many cottages, and driving their inhabit- 
 ants to seek for shelter with their neighbours. 
 
 The hot earth steamed with unwholesome va- 
 pour, as the tepid water fell upon it, and reeked 
 under the rotting leaves, which had been too 
 withered to recover. The smell of deatli was 
 everywhere. The rain appeared to have come too 
 late for mercy, and to be rather the completion 
 of the heat's destructive work. It w^as so heavy, 
 that 1 observed flie drops joining in their fall, 
 washing away, rather than refreshing the soil. 
 
 I was out on professional duty, one day during 
 its continuance ; but, as I drove along under the 
 dense fall of water, I coidd scarcely see the hedges 
 beside the road ; a dank steam rose from the 
 ground, obscuring every object, tlirough whicli
 
 294 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 the stray brancliea liung across the j)ath tlieir 
 blackened, (hoopini^ leaves, weiglied down by 
 moisture. 
 
 One road, which hiy by the river, was so flooded 
 that it was impassable, and yet, unfortunately, it 
 was the only way to a patient who was seriously 
 ill. 1 had been ver) uneasy about her, for it 
 was a woman ; and it was no small relief to me, 
 on the fifth morning, to see rapidly increasing 
 patches of blue sky, as the white clouds rolled 
 heavily away — a few moments found me dri- 
 ving rapidly along the road to her house, from 
 which the flood had already partly subsided. 
 A (juick breeze had cleared away the heavy va- 
 j)our, and allowed me to see the ravages of the 
 storm on the landscape at each side of my way 
 'J'lie hedges which lined it were almost hidden 
 by the earth and rubbish which they had caught 
 from the stream as it passed, and fields of what 
 had been careful tillage, were now tracts of reek- 
 ing mud, shapeless and undefined, with here and 
 there a hillock formed by the torrent's collected 
 spoils. Many animals were found drowned in these 
 slimy barrows, and one of them, I afterwards heard, 
 which 1 passed that morning, ignorantly, was 
 formed over the Ixxly of a child. 1 attended the 
 inquest on it ; and as I looked on its slimy hair.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 295 
 
 its blue eyes filled with mud, and its hands hold- 
 ing in their death-gripe straws and black weeds, 
 and sorrowed over its sad fate, I little thouiilit 
 that it was blessed in its preservation from com- 
 ing suffering, and probably, a sadder death 
 
 Along the course of the river, the earth and 
 stones w^hich it had swept down, covered the ad- 
 jacent fields, — yet there was nothing unnatural, 
 however horrible, in the destruction it had worked; 
 but as I gained the open country, and saw tlu 
 blackened, fetid, potato fields, and the levelled 
 wheat and oats, I was filled with sad astonishment 
 and dismay. 1 drew up my horse by the side of one 
 of the worst -looking fields, and hastily joined a 
 man who was examining some plants, that he 
 might discover the extent of the injiu-y. He handed 
 me a few^ roots silently ; the cancerous disc- asc 
 had already spread over the surface; and when I 
 pressed them, a black juice ran from them. 
 
 " They are gone, entirely gone," said the poor 
 fellow, " and the poor must follow them." 1 
 looked at him, and saw the lines that recent 
 tears had made down his cheeks, — I could at- 
 tempt no amsolation — what had I to offer ? As 
 I passed on my way, I saw groups in most ot 
 the jK)tato fields, some crying silently ; fathers 
 watching their children, as they despairingly tore
 
 2l)G CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 up tlu' soft black stalks ; mothers pressing their 
 startled infants to their breasts, and roeking tliem 
 with the wild wail of Irish misery. I could bear 
 these sights no longer ; and catching up my reins, 
 I forced the horse, at his (piickest pace, to my 
 destination — where, not trusting myself to speak 
 on any other subject — I hastily j)rcscribed for 
 my patient, and drove in a gallop back to my 
 own house. 
 
 I could not bear the solitude of my own 
 thoughts, however, and I walked up to Cappagh 
 to consult my friends there, about the innne- 
 diate necessities of those who had suffered most 
 severely from the liood. 1 found ]\lrs. More 
 lying on a sofa — an unusual indulgence for her. 
 Her son was with her, and by the grave looks of 
 both, I perceived that they knew, and fully esti- 
 mated, the calamity which had come upon the 
 country. 
 
 " I am glad you are come. Doctor," she said, 
 *' I have so much to ask you, and so much with 
 which to trouble you." 
 
 " Before you speak of other things," I said, 
 *' you must let me know how you yourself are ; 
 this weather has tried the strongest." 
 
 " But not me," she answered quickly.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 297 
 
 I insisted on feeling her pulse ; it was weak 
 and fluttering. 
 
 " Do not either think of nie, or make nie think 
 of myself/' she said, as she watched my grave 
 face. 
 
 I turned to Cathal. "Your mother," I said, 
 " requires rest and change, especially now, when 
 this country will be unhealthy." He started, — 
 his mother's dehcacy seemed to be a new idea 
 to hhn. 
 
 " Doctor," she interrupted impatiently, " I beg 
 you to say no more ; I will not leave home now. 
 Cathal, believe me, I am well — indeed I am;" 
 and she walked up and down the room with a 
 borrowed strength, lent by her energy of spirit. 
 
 I could not oppose her, for the least excite- 
 ment w^ould have been injurious to her ; and 1 
 was obliged to content myself by ordeiing her 
 strengthening medicines, and warning her against 
 over-exertion. 
 
 For a day or two, she was thoroughly })ros- 
 trated by the misfortmies which her clear judg- 
 ment foresaw would follow the faihu'e of the 
 people's food ; but her desire to help some iA' 
 the sutierers from the river flood, was of use tc» 
 her, rousing her from the depression which at 
 first overcame her ; however, 1 insisted on her not 
 
 o 3
 
 298 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 going out while the air was yet so unwhole- 
 some. 
 
 She deputed Agnes, with me, to inquire into 
 the cases of the most unfortunate, to many of 
 whom, were given a temporary lodging in tlu; 
 oifices, some even in the house of Cai)pagh, while 
 their cottages were being renewed; and Cathal 
 marked an immediate abatement to those amongst 
 his tenants, whose farms had suffered from the 
 torrent. lie waited to see the consequence of 
 the general potato failure, before he made ar- 
 rangements on that score. 
 
 While we were engaged in these busy charities, 
 the consciousness of right cheered every one of 
 us, and in the connnon necessity, Mr. Schelling 
 and his influence were forgotten ; for at that 
 time, Mrs. ]\Iore and her son were yet able to 
 save their poor from absolute want ; they had 
 not then the deep unhappiness of witnessing 
 misery that they could not alleviate. 
 
 I have before said, that Cathal, though heir 
 of a race which formerly possessed all the plain, 
 visible from the mountain-toi), which rose over 
 Cai)i)agh, was not rich. His rental was between 
 three and four thousand i)ounds a year, much 
 of it pnid by his tenants' labour, and a great 
 deal accruing from the petty rents of the cot-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 299 
 
 tiers, whom liis father had encoiirap^ed on Ins 
 estate. 
 
 He was, as we have seen, heavily encumbered 
 by his debt of twenty thousand pounds, bor- 
 rowed from Mr. ScheUing, at fom- per cent, to 
 discliarge his father's debts. 
 
 It was needful to meet the interest on this, to 
 the day ; for as he did not anticipate any delav 
 in his payments when he contracted with his 
 friend, he had not objected to a clause inserted 
 •by Mr. Schellhig, to the effect that for any time 
 that the interest on his mortgage was overdue, 
 it should accrue at an increase of six per cent 
 A dangerous proviso for such a debt, on sucii an 
 estate. Mrs. More had also a jointure of six 
 hundred pounds yearly, which at that time w as 
 considered prior to Mr. Schelling's claim ; and 
 though but little of it was spent on her own 
 personal wants, yet it was a lien on her son's 
 estate, and he was left but a poor man, after 
 deducting from his receipts, the expenses entailed 
 by his improvements, and i)hilanthropic schemes. 
 
 The potato failure of the autumn before had 
 greatly exhausted his means, for he had con- 
 sidered it as a misfortune peculiar to that year, 
 and unlikely to re-occur ; and during it, he liaci 
 spent his whole income, together with the surphis
 
 300 CATIIAL MORK. 
 
 of Mr. SclK'lling's loan, in giving (•ni])loynient to 
 his tenants, — to most of the viUagcrs, in fact. 
 This repetition of disaster, therefore, came upon 
 him with ahirming snii)rise ; and the abatement 
 he felt called on by justice, to allow his tenants, 
 was incompatible with his former charities, pushed 
 as they had been, to the utmost extent of his 
 means. 
 
 It was during the month of September, that 
 these things began to press on him with painful 
 reality ; — more, however, as future cares, than 
 ])resrnt j)overty — for the high prices his farm 
 produce fetched that famine year, made np in a 
 manner the deficit in his rents. 
 
 But the futin-e is present to well educated 
 minds; and these thoughts could not but be earnest 
 and serious to Cathal. The bond of working in 
 \mison, which had drawn him and his mother 
 together, during the first distresses of the summer, 
 led him to consult her on his future prospects — for 
 he was ever anxious for advice. It was well that 
 on this occasion he sought hers. 
 
 Instant retrenchment in all superfluous luxu- 
 ries, was her determination ; while she urged her 
 son, at the same time, to continue, if by any means 
 he could, the employment of the poor, on even a 
 larg(!r scale than formerly. She insisted on his
 
 CATHAL MORE. 3 (I I 
 
 freely using her jointure ; and increased economy 
 in her household management, enabled her to give 
 back to him — much of what he set apart for such 
 uses. 
 
 There was no delay in ]\Irs. More's plans — they 
 were at once acted on ; and by her instant reforms, 
 her son was able to meet, with his former punctu- 
 ality, his November half year's interest, to the day, 
 and to maintain even a greater number of labourers 
 than before — though to do so, he and his mother 
 denied themselves all but the bare necessaries of 
 life. 
 
 Nothing, however, could stop the inevitable 
 famine from at last reaching the large ruined vil- 
 lage, and his over-populated estate. Over-popu- 
 lated truly. On a surface of not four thousand 
 acres, there were upwards of a thousand cottier 
 holdings, most of them containing little more than 
 a house and a small potato garden, of from half an 
 acre to an acre in extent. Supposing an average of 
 five in each of the famiUes living in these cottages ; 
 let the reader imagine a body of from tliree to 
 four thousand soids entirely dependent, since the 
 potato failure, on labour for support, and without 
 another hope of subsistence, except what might 
 be gained by begging or stealing. 
 
 Cathal employed three hundred in his farm ;
 
 302 CATIIAL MORE. 
 
 but " what was that among so many ?" Little 
 indeed — but still his utmost. 
 
 Christmas came at last, sternly and silently ; 
 for no merry voices sounded, as in old times, round 
 a heavily laden table. One small joint of beef 
 and some boiled rice were placed before us, while 
 we anxiously discussed what could ])e done. 
 
 " There is no actual starvation yet," I said ; 
 ** the poor are living by the pawn office ; but with 
 these high prices for food, that cannot last for 
 more than a month, with most of them." 
 
 " Then I fear the roadworks, which we have 
 tried to avoid, must be resorted to," said Mrs. 
 More ; " and a soup kitchen must be established." 
 
 " They will ruin the morale of the people," I 
 said. 
 
 " We cannot let them starve. Doctor," she re- 
 plied ; " WT cannot employ them all, or give them 
 money to emigrate. 1 fear," she continued, ad- 
 dressing her son, " that you must at last api)ly to 
 the government officers." 
 
 He sorrowfully assented ; and before many days 
 had passed, a committee had been fonned among 
 the princi})al parishioners, and a soup kitchen had 
 been set up, by means of an advance of money 
 from the government, for the relief ostensibly of 
 such as could not procure work, while at the
 
 CATHAL MORE. 303 
 
 same time an official surveyor planned the level- 
 ling of a lull on the road, which absorbed a crowd 
 of miserable, broken-down labourers. 
 
 Mrs. More saw the necessity, but she also fore- 
 saw the abiding evil these two modes of relief 
 would entail, on the hitherto exemplary inhabit- 
 ants of the little town ; the demorahzation, the 
 family discord, the uncountable train of evils 
 which they led to. She saw her plans for their 
 good marred, her improvements rendered useless, 
 and all her life-labom's ruined ; yet she did not 
 for one moment slacken in her efforts — no disap. 
 pointment stopped her ; on and on she persevered, 
 for duty, and not success, was her aim. 
 
 Agnes was trained in her ways ; and untiringly 
 these two angel-spirits sought to stem the tide of 
 misery that rushed in on Cappagh ; some waves 
 they did tm-n aside, and many were by their means 
 preserved from the lingering torture of famine. 
 
 I have slightly sketched the village, as it was 
 in its prosperity. After the s])ring of '47, scarce 
 a feature remained of what it was then, in the 
 mass of ruin. The heavy rain of the sunmier 
 before, had caused a danij) in all the cottages on 
 which it fell, which oozed in a green slime from 
 the walls, and, undermining the walls, and burst- 
 ing the mortar, gave a ruinous aspect to the for-
 
 304 CATIIAL MOKE. 
 
 iiK-rly trim liouscs. 'V\\c thatcli on them rotted 
 from the constant wet, and was soon overgrown 
 with moss and weeds ; and the slated houses were 
 even more injured, for the walls bulged from 
 moisture, and settling down with great cracks, 
 pulled the rafters awry, and displacing the slates, 
 left broad holes in the roofs, through which the 
 winter's rain soon destroyed the wood- work within 
 Even the usual supply of turf was wanting to re- 
 pair this damage ; for much had been destroyed 
 on the bogs by the storm, and the few who had 
 saved any, sold it by the sod for food. 
 
 " Yood ! Food !" All was unheeded in the des- 
 pairing cry of the poor, 'i'he half-maddened inha- 
 bitants cared not for the ruin of their houses, or 
 for the poverty of their clothes — rags that the 
 pawnbroker had rejected. Food was their only 
 thought — their other instincts were absorbed m 
 desire for it. The guilt of stealing, the fear of 
 detection, were absolutely obliterated ; even the 
 charities of relationshij), which cling so closely to 
 Irish hearts, were forgotten. Mothers tore the 
 pilfiTcd turnip, or the dog-gnawed bone from their 
 children, and families fought and struggled with 
 all the strength yet left to them, for morsels, such 
 as we should turn aside from, with loathini^. 
 
 The soup-kitchen indeed was there; but so great
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 3(l5 
 
 was the crowd of ap])licants for its scanty relief, 
 that they coiild not be all suj)plied upon the same 
 day, with even the small portion of gruel allotted 
 to each. And then the nights, to those who had 
 been disappointed ! I used to hear at nights, their 
 fierce, impatient complaints, as I lay awake, in 
 an agony of pity. 
 
 I shall never forget the faces of the crowd, who 
 apphed for orders to the clerk of the soup-kitchen, 
 on the days that the committee sat ; there seemed 
 nothing but faces, as I looked out of the window — 
 a pavement of them — all gazing with bloodshot 
 eyes in the one direction, with the same expres- 
 sion upon all. Men who had been independent 
 labourers, earning enough and to spare for their 
 wants, were there in shameless beggary, watching 
 with impatience the food as it was j)oured out, 
 and eating it, half-boiling as it was, without a 
 thought of aught around them, until they were 
 pushed aside by the next comer. Even women, 
 with a boldness rare in Ireland, screamed and riot- 
 ed as they fought their way through the dense 
 crowd, and made a stir amongthe faces; respectable 
 women, too, who formerly boasted of well-trained 
 families, and tidy households, now half naked, 
 careless of all they had bcfon' esteemed. And 
 children were there besides, whose fair heads I
 
 30G CATHAL MORE. 
 
 used to pat encouragingly, as they stood in rank 
 at school, in their neat gingham frocks, the gift of 
 Mrs. More ; now shivering, thrust aside by the 
 stronger ones, standing with the ])atient melan- 
 choly, peculiar to suffering childliood, until a ray 
 of pity should visit them from some looker-on. 
 
 It was a heart-breaking sight, and heart-broken 
 Cathal did look, as he day after day devoted him- 
 self to the relief of his miserable tenants ; for a 
 sense of clanship was strong in him, and he felt 
 almost the sorrow of a father for their misery. 
 Every shilling he could collect, he gave for food ; 
 he took no thought for his affairs, or for personal 
 advantage ; for every feehng and impulse merged 
 into his anxiety to save the poor. 
 
 The fine old trees of Cappagh, witnesses as 
 they were of his long line of ancestors, he wished 
 to be felled ; but no sale could be got for them, 
 except for prices which could hardly have paid the 
 labour of cutting them, and that alone saved the 
 antique woods. He sold nuich of his stock, and 
 bought meal for the people; he gave his herd of 
 deer to feed them — all he had, he devoted to their 
 cause ; — and it was not (|uite in vain, — he saved 
 some out of the common destruction, even at 
 the cost of his own ruin. Hut I must not anti- 
 cipate.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 307 
 
 His mother's enthusiasm was deadened by the 
 trials of her later years ; but, in place of her 
 natural impulses to good, had grown, obedience to 
 the dictates of higher ndes. She did not, as 
 Cathal did, devote her all, to the present work, 
 and so leave herself without power to do future 
 good ; but she practised the self-denial, enormous 
 to a mind like hers, of controlhng her desire to 
 give indiscriminately. Her son forgot justice in 
 charity ; she had strength, even at such a time, 
 to unite them. 
 
 Major AVyndham, and other English friends, 
 entrusted munificent sums to her care, of which 
 she laboured mitiringly in the distribution, and 
 she sacrificed more than her son, perhaps, in the en- 
 tire devotion of her time and strength to the poor. 
 
 The scenes she and Agnes encountered, were 
 sometimes fearful, in their visits to the more dis- 
 tant poor, among the mountain glens ; and it was 
 often necessary that I should accompany them, 
 when they carried supplies of food, through the less 
 frequented, distant, hamlets. One day, I remem- 
 ber, we went to a far break amongst the hills, 
 where we knew there was a little knot of cabins. 
 There was no way to it, exce])t by a broken j)atli 
 which crossed the moor ; and, when we had driven 
 as far as we could along the road which led in that
 
 308 CATHAL MORK. 
 
 direction, \vv wt-rc forced to leave the carriage, 
 and proceed on foot. It was past two o'clock, 
 as we had been bnsy in the vilhige during tlie 
 morning, and the snn was already sinking be- 
 hind the mountain crest — which backed the valley, 
 leaving the deep gorge in wliieh the houses lay, 
 in cold wet gloom. 
 
 I begged Mrs. More, whose health could ill 
 bear exposure to w^'t, to return ; but she refused, 
 and we w^ent on with difficulty, making our way 
 from hag to hag of the rough peat moss. When 
 we were within two hundred yards of the handet, 
 Agnes suddenly stopped with an exclanuition of 
 horror, echoed by us, when we saw the cause. 
 
 A girl of about sixteen lay half covered by 
 the soft ooze of a well-head, as bog springs are 
 called ; her long hair, dark and without lustre, 
 was tangled in the heath, and wet, like it, by the 
 mountain showers. Her face was scarcely pale, 
 but rather sallow, tinged by the peculiar hue, 
 which witnessed but too plainly, the death of 
 starvation she had suffered. 1 felt for her j)ulse ; 
 but the cold of her body, and other symptoms, 
 showed me that she had been dead for some 
 hours, perhaps all the preceding night. And 
 yet notwithstanding all the hunger she had evi- 
 dently endured, one hand, which was stretched
 
 CATHAL MORE. 309 
 
 towards the cabins below, clasped a half spilled 
 mug of gruel. 
 
 " She must have fainted," I said, " returning 
 from the relief kitchen yesterday, and died du- 
 ring the night." 
 
 " But the gruel ?" said Agnes, doubtingly. 
 
 " Her family probably expected it," I replied, 
 " and she fainted before she could resolve to eat 
 it herself." 
 
 We Ufted her up on a hillock of dry heath ; 
 her attenuated form was a hght weight, reduced 
 as it was, to a degree that I had scarcely sup- 
 posed compatible with human existence. That 
 famine year taught me strange facts of human 
 endurance ! 
 
 " We had better hasten on," said Mrs. More ; 
 " it is strange that no one came to look for, or 
 saw her, from the houses." 
 
 The first cabin that we entered was empty ; 
 in the next, a man lay propped against the wall, 
 half covered by a mattrass ; he looked vacantly 
 at us, and in answer to our questions, he mut- 
 tered deliriously, his talk running on eating 
 and food. lie pointed often to a dark corner 
 in the far part of the room ; I went over, and 
 with difficulty pulled out a bundle from it — I 
 opened it — it contained the bodies of two
 
 310 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 children, one evidently many days dead. It had 
 been his feeble attempt at burial. The sight 
 of them seemed for a moment to restore his 
 weakened mind. He fixed his tihued eyes on 
 me, and said in a low voice. 
 
 " Mary is gone, too; they are all gone !" After 
 a j)ause, he muttered, " No food, and I am dying 
 of hunger. Give me food !" he cried ; and his 
 voice suddenly rose to almost a woman's scream. 
 The effort exhausted his slight remains of 
 strength, and he fell back, silent and powerless. 
 
 We gave him, drop by drop, some milk and 
 water ; and I hastily unbuttoned my outer coat, 
 and spread it over the wretclu d man ; for he had 
 no other covering hut tlic straw mat over him. We 
 stayed with him until he had partially recovered, 
 though he still remained imbecile. The growing 
 darkness, however, obliged us to go, and we 
 opened the door of the thii-d house, anxious to 
 settle something, if possible, for the permanent 
 relief of the wretched man we had left, and the 
 interment of his three children ; for by his words 
 we knew, that " Mary" was the corpse we had 
 passed on the path. 
 
 A horrible scene lay before us, when, with 
 some little difficidty, we pushed ai)art some tern-
 
 CATHAL MORE. 311 
 
 porary fastenings, which had been placed to 
 secure the entrance to the last cottage. 
 
 The carcase of a sheep was in the middle of 
 the smoky, low kitchen. Its wool remained on 
 it in patches ; but portions of the flesh had been 
 roughly torn off", and very recently, — for the 
 flesh was stiU warm. Far back, in the dusky 
 light, I saw the figures of two men, apparently 
 in deep sleep. Their hands and mouths were 
 smeared with blood — even their clothes were 
 flecked by broad red stains, and the long, shaggy 
 hair on their beards and throats was clotted with 
 it. They had had a savage feast ! 
 
 I shook one of them gently by the shoulder ; 
 but he did not awake — for he was in too pro- 
 found a lethargy. I scarcely wished to rouse 
 him — alone, in that desolate place, wath Mrs. 
 More and Agnes. As I left him, however, I 
 awkwardly stumbled, and the noise awakened 
 him, half aroused as he had been. 
 
 He started up angrily. 
 
 I said, quietly and calmly, — 
 
 " i\Irs. More has come, to give you some as- 
 sistance." 
 
 He evidently did not beUeve me — for he ad- 
 vanced menacingly towards me. I stepped back, 
 to avoid him — but there was httle cause for
 
 312 CATIIAL MORE, 
 
 dread ; his own weakness overcame him, and he 
 dizzily staggered to the nearest seat. 
 
 " Be still, and I will do you no harm," I said- 
 " You have stolen this sheep," I continued. *' 1 
 see what led you to do so, and I will not inform. 
 I will not even ask you who is your companion ;" 
 and I pointed to the second figure, that still lay, 
 as I thought, asleep on the settle bed. " I do 
 not wish to know yoiu' name — I will not hear 
 any thing that will criminate you ; only let me 
 help you." 
 
 " Yes, let us help you," said Mrs. More, who 
 had watched from without, what had passed. 
 
 He buried his face in his trembling hands ; 
 but in a moment looking up, he exclaimed — 
 
 " You are too good to me ; but I am not so 
 bad as I seem. I did not do it" — he went on, 
 pointing to the sheep — " but my child was 
 starving, and I agreed to give that man there, 
 shelter, if he would give me my fill, and the 
 child's fill, — and he brought it here ; and we 
 ate and drank — but it killed him, and it killed 
 the child, and it was a mercy and a blessing for 
 them ; and I drank more when I saw them 
 dead, to try if it would kill me, too ; and 1 thought 
 it did — but you woke me." 
 
 I hastily went over to his companion, who yet
 
 CATUAL MORE. 313 
 
 lay, without stirring, on the pallet. He was 
 quite insensible, but not yet dead. I tried what 
 remedies I could, and a little recovered him ; 
 but before morning, as I afterwards heard, he 
 died. 
 
 " Where is the child ?" Mrs. More asked. 
 
 He pointed to the sheep ; and almost hidden 
 from us by it, lay a little boy, who in his set 
 teeth held a long strip of flesh, which he had 
 torn from the side of the carcase. He was quite 
 dead. The glut of food, after long abstinence, 
 had been too much for him. 
 
 By his strange words and way of speaking, 
 and his sentiments so foreign to our Irish feel- 
 ings, — for we abhor suicide, — I guessed the un- 
 fortunate man's mind was unsettled, and that it 
 was little use asking him to give assistance to his 
 still more unfortunate neighbom*; but yet I said — 
 
 " Your neighbour is dying ; his daughter 
 Mary is dead. Why did you not share with 
 him?" 
 
 He laughed bitterly. " Didn't I say so, after 
 all their preaching about virtue and honesty ? 
 What's become of it now ?" 
 
 He was in no state to receive blame ; we 
 silently left him, and hastened down to some 
 houses further on, where we hoped to find people 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 314 CATIIAL MOKR. 
 
 who could assist the wretched creatures we had 
 left. From them we heard of Mary and lier 
 father ; how she had mahitained him, when he 
 eouki get no work, by hers ; and how, when that 
 source failed, she daily walked to the soup- 
 kitchen, five weary miles of mountain-walking, 
 and carried his small ])()rringer of gruel un- 
 touched, when she was half fainting from fatigue 
 and hunger. 
 
 " Why could he not go himself?'* asked Mrs. 
 More. 
 
 '* My lady," a woman said, " his last stitch of 
 clothes w(»nt, striving to live ; and it was since 
 that, he has been so badly off". Before, he used 
 to get a trifle of work, here and there ; for all 
 knew him to be an honest man." 
 
 " And could you do nothing for him?" I said. 
 
 '' We're on the same allowance oiu-selves, 
 your honour, — and what could we do ? Only 
 that we have rags enough to cover us, and can go 
 ourselves, and have not the weary mountain- 
 walk, we would be the same way this minute." 
 
 '' And his neighbour — is he as badly off?" 
 asked Agnes. 
 
 They looked down, and answered nothing ; 
 evidently it was known that he had supplied 
 himself by sheep-stealing.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 315 
 
 As Mrs. More did not wish to find out more 
 of the matter, she left the cottage, and we drove 
 quickly home, from whence she sent a trusty man 
 and some labourers to bring the bodies we had 
 found, down for burial, and arrange for the as- 
 sistance of the two survivors. 
 
 One of them, the father of " Mary," has been 
 weak in intellect ever since ; to the other, Cathal 
 lent money to emigrate to America. We have 
 since heard that he is doing well there ; and his 
 letters are full of gratitude to the More family. 
 
 It had been a trying day to my two com- 
 panions ; they had many such, but they would 
 not indulge themselves in weakly shrinking from 
 the mere sight of evils, which their fellow-crea- 
 tures were forced to endure. No scene was too 
 painful, no distress too shocking, to dishearten 
 them from giving every assistance they could in 
 its alleviation.
 
 316 CATHAL 3I0RE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 I WILL not drag my readers through the depths 
 of Irish misery, wliicli I explored that spring. 
 Notwithstanding all our efforts, the numbers 
 who died in the distant mountains and villages 
 must have been immense. Whole families, for- 
 gotten in the universal panic and cry for food, 
 disappeared, and were heard of no more. Of dis- 
 ease brought on by insufficient and unwholesome 
 food, an average of two in each household, of the 
 population, were carried off. Cathal, who, by his 
 experience of the value of well-directed labour, was 
 a good judge of the subject, deplored the waste 
 of money which was going on in the spoiling of 
 the roads, under pretence of their improvement. 
 The very tools the labourers used, spoke of the 
 work they did — the shallow barrows, and shovels 
 which might be a child's toys — the donkey-carts, 
 that could not contain a load even to the starved 
 tottering beasts that drew them. It was a mi- 
 serable farce, — sometimes a tragedy, where task- 
 work was the rule, and the fathers of large
 
 CATHAL MORE. 317 
 
 families were so weak, that they could earn no 
 more than three half-pence, or two-pence a day. 
 A tragedy in real life ; not as in books, made so 
 by a few deaths at the end ; but a tragedy, of 
 which the whole subject was one long, lingering 
 death by starvation, acted in verity by all the 
 players. But I promised not to enlarge on these 
 sad subjects. The reader must need a break in 
 these descriptions, and yet, from public distress, 
 I can only turn to private care and anxiety — 
 that mental care, more harassing even than 
 physical suffering. It was in the month of 
 April, as we were assembled at Cappagh for 
 breakfast, one morning, that a letter arrived for 
 Cathal, the contents of which were painful, as 
 we saw by his gloomy expression. He gave it to 
 his mother, and watched her face as she looked 
 over it. 
 
 " Mr. Schelling speaks of interest due," she 
 said calmly, but gravely. " Is there much ?" 
 
 " Only the half-year's ; a month due," said her 
 son, bitterly. " I described the misery we are 
 trying to alleviate — I asked him to wait until 
 autumn, that I might have more funds to employ 
 the poor now, when they are dying of want. 
 You see the answer."
 
 318 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 ** He refuses. But did you expect any thing 
 else?" 
 
 " I expected a concession from liiiu, rich man 
 as he is, which I thought no Christian — I mean 
 human being — would refuse," he said. 
 
 Mrs. More looked silently at him ; and, turn- 
 ing away half impatiently, he continued — 
 
 " I dare say he has some urgent calls on him 
 after all ; in any case, I must pay him now, and 
 dismiss half the workmen." 
 
 " No," said his mother, "pay him ; above all, 
 continue all your works. I can supply you." 
 He looked somewhat astonished, and begged her 
 to tell him how. She would not, and overruled 
 every objection he made to her '' self-sacrifice, 
 generosity, &c., &c." Next morning, a small 
 set of valuable diamonds, which she had inherited 
 from her mother, were on their way to Dublin, 
 and, in a few days, four hundred and thirty 
 pounds, their estimated value, was retm'ued ; of 
 course, much less than their original cost. 
 Cathal never knew the circumstance ; but Mr. 
 Sehelling was paid, and the works went on vi- 
 gorously. A few days brought back his ac- 
 knowledgment, and, enclosed in it, a money 
 
 order for five hundred pounds, payable at 
 
 bank. Cathal handed it triumphantly to Mrs.
 
 CATHAL MORE. 319 
 
 More before he read the letter, exclaiming, 
 " You see, mother, Schelling only wanted to prove 
 my solvency ; he has sent over this splendid 
 sum for the poor, after all." But his counte- 
 nance fell on reading the letter, and he silently 
 laid it by his mother's side, and walked in much 
 disturbance up and down the room ; — Mr. Schel- 
 ling directed the money to be appropriated to 
 the finishing and fitting up of the Unitarian 
 chapel. He wrote in his usual style, appealing 
 to Cathal's honour, and expressing the utmost 
 confidence in his friendship. 
 
 "I cannot, will not, do such a thing," said 
 Cathal, vehemently ; " when the poor are perish- 
 mg by dozens, spend in useless architecture !" 
 
 *' Yet, my son," said his mother, ''you can- 
 not now disobey your trust ; but it seems to 
 me," she continued, "that Mr. Schelling's wishes 
 can be fully carried out, at the present low price 
 of both materials and labour, for a less cost 
 than he supposes." 
 
 " Yes !" said Cathal; " but what then ?" 
 
 " Find out the lowest estimates from the 
 tradespeople, buy the materials in the most eco- 
 nomical form ; and then, if there be any surplus, 
 consult your friend about its use." 
 
 " Friend !" repeated her son. " Well, mother, 
 1 will try."
 
 320 CATIIAL MOUE. 
 
 He succeeded ; he calculated that all needful 
 could be well done for something less than 
 four hundred pounds, leaving a hundred clearly 
 over ; for Mr. Schelling had used the rule 
 of English ])rices in his plans, and liad not 
 made allowance for the depreciation of labour 
 in Ireland, since all classes had thrown them- 
 selves into its market. Cathal wrote a minute 
 estimate to Mr. Schelling. I saw his letter — it 
 was couched in the formal language of mere 
 business ; and, with the haughty constraint of 
 disappointed friendship, he requested, at the end, 
 to know what he should do with the surplus ; 
 pointing out the good it might effect among the 
 poor ; and, if Mr. Schelling thought fit to ap- 
 propriate it to their use, he asked to whom he 
 should commit its distribution. It cost him a 
 sacrifice of pride even writing thus much of 
 begging, though it was for the poor ; but even 
 pride he could give up in their cause. 
 
 Mr. Schelling's answer arrived by return of 
 post from Lojidon. 
 
 Cathal hastily opened it, and reading it 
 through, turned exultingly to his mother. 
 
 "It is all right, mother. I knew Schelling 
 would agree. I wish you would think better of 
 him than you do."
 
 CATHAL MORE. 321 
 
 He was anxious to think well of a man with 
 whom he had so entangled himself; but the 
 tone of Mr. SchelUng's letter showed that chanty 
 did not prompt his gift ; he had evidently 
 perceived Cathal's anger at his former letter, 
 and, as his plans were not yet completed, 
 he desired to avoid any present break in their 
 nominal friendship. 
 
 He wrote, describing the gift as solely offered 
 at Cathal's request, thus putting him under 
 a species of obligation to the giver ; he wound 
 up by praise of his friend's diligence and 
 punctuality, congratulations on his sense and 
 energy, and by the species of flattery, delicately 
 and inoffensively administered, which he knew 
 would touch the secret springs of Cathal's foibles. 
 
 " Come, mother, say something," exclaimed 
 Cathal, gaily. 
 
 She sighed. *' What will you do with his 
 hundred pounds?" 
 
 '' What would you like to do with them ?" 
 asked her son, in return. 
 
 '' They must be spent on food, I suppose. A 
 drop in the ocean !" 
 
 '* When do you think this unceasing cry for 
 food will cease ?" asked I — for 1 breakfasted 
 with them.
 
 322 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 " Not until Imlf the population cease to live," 
 said Mrs. More ; " unless, indeed, the potatoes 
 succeed this year/* 
 
 *' They are not sowing much," said her son. 
 
 " Suppose we spend fifty pounds of this sum 
 in giving seed now ; allowing, at the same time, 
 a small loan of money to support each family 
 while they are sowing." 
 
 We all recommended this plan ; and, though 
 difficult to carry it out, while the starving 
 wretches around were clamouring for a mouth- 
 ful, Cathal saved much misery in the following 
 year by this preparation for its necessities ; some 
 fields, at least, were tilled — some hope began to 
 be rekindled, as the spring wore on and the 
 young corn covered the potato furrows — which 
 had lain the whole winter a ghastly reminder — 
 untouched by their owners. 
 
 The road-works and the soup-kitchen were 
 open through the spring; and those who had 
 escaped death, struggled on, inured to hunger, 
 and perhaps kept alive by expectation of a fruit- 
 ful summer. Misery became more conventional 
 — the first horror had passed away — the poor 
 were more callous to their suff*ering — and we, 
 perhaps, to the sight of it. But wave after 
 wave of desolating, bitter sorrow, seemed to
 
 CATHAL MORE. 323 
 
 follow each other over our unhappy country ; 
 for as the summer advanced, its heats brought 
 with them that typhus fever, which raged so 
 generally throughout the land. Occupied by 
 the duties which arose from all these causes, I 
 had not much observed the growth into com- 
 pletion of the new chapel ; but one day, Sunday, 
 I think it was, I walked with Cathal to look at 
 its advance. It was quite finished, and he 
 pointed out with a slightly absent air all the 
 beauties of its interior, almost too crowded as 
 they were. The mellow sun-hght shone through 
 a painted window Mr. Schelling had sent from 
 London, and fell in emerald, topaz, sapphire rays 
 on the bm-nished organ pipes opposite. The 
 pavement was a mosaic ; formed, as More pointed 
 out to me, of Irish marbles and stones. The 
 pillars ran gracefully up into the high pointed 
 roof. The cornices were ornamented with carved 
 designs of different patterns, cut in the grey 
 stone of the country. Ever}^here there was an 
 intricacy of ornament, beautiful yet not subhme. 
 
 " I have ordered to be left, a vacant space for a 
 painting Schelling is bringing over," said Cathal. 
 
 "Why ! is he coming?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, I expect him in September, and his son, 
 too." 
 
 ** Will he remain any time ?*'
 
 324 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 "He talks of partridge shooting ; and," con - 
 tilled Cathal, witli a slightly embarrassed manner, 
 " he has given me a commission to get a tolerable 
 house, the best in the village that is to be had, 
 prepared for a clergyman of his persuasion." 
 
 " Who are to be the congregation ?" I asked ; 
 "for I only know of two or three Unitarians 
 
 living hereabout!, and they are at , seven 
 
 miles off." 
 
 " Well, so much the better, said Cathal ;" " I 
 suppose Schelling has a crotchet about building ; 
 he will not gain many proselytes here, and so my 
 mother's fears are all groundless," he added, ab- 
 ruptly, and with an air of would-be decision. 
 " Do you not think so. Doctor?" 
 
 " Your mother feared more for yourself, than 
 for others," I said. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! as if I were a likely convert ; 
 but," he continued, " what do you think of this 
 Unitarian minister that is coming ? I never cal- 
 culated on him ; but I could not make any objec- 
 tion now, because it would seem irrational at the 
 eleventh hour, w^hen I might have foreseen it all 
 along. AVliat will the rector say ?" 
 
 " I fear he will take it much to heart," I said ; 
 " and your mother?" 
 
 "Oh Doctor!" he suddenly exclaimed, while
 
 CATHAL MORE. 325 
 
 an expressioA of bitter annoyance came over his 
 face ; " you do not know how I have rued ray 
 connexion with Schelling ; no one knows how I 
 have suffered from the alienation of my early 
 friends. I am getting deeper and deeper involved 
 \\ith him, and I cannot prevent this Unitarian 
 settling here now. Mr. Hyde and my mother 
 must condemn me ; and I deserve that they 
 should." 
 
 He seemed to have become aroused to see 
 the mischief he had encouraged, by the prospect 
 of this schismatic preacher's arrival. I said 
 nothing, for I feared to disturb the re-action to- 
 wards right ; he w^as hurt by my silence, for he 
 turned away abruptly ; and after that day, he did 
 not receive me into his confidence for some time. 
 
 Poor fellow ! I heartily pitied him — and pitied 
 all the more, because I also so much admired him. 
 There was such nobleness in his character — and 
 the very tendency that led him astray, was but 
 the distortion of a love of justice, which prompted 
 his desire for toleration. 
 
 July passed, and during it, and the begin- 
 ning of August, the fever and general misery 
 were at their worst ; but, as the autumn drew 
 near, the people's hopes began to rise, and 
 night and morning the scanty potato-crop was 
 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 320 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 examined, with the avid ;nixiety of a miser 
 wlio counts liis ^old. No bhglit appeared, 
 except in some highly manured and enclosed 
 gardens, and we all began to breathe more freely. 
 Cathal's apprehensions of the country's ruin were 
 half dispelled ; and even liis mother, who, with 
 her clear sight, had foreknown the evils coming, 
 was for a time made hopeful by the prospect of 
 harvest, and of some rest from their labours ; 
 insutheient and disheartening as they had been. 
 Cathal announced to her, Mr. Schelling's inten- 
 tion of estabhshing a minister of his persuasion in 
 the neighbourhood ; but she sho^ved no sm-prise, 
 no fresh sorrow, for what she had long foreseen 
 — that and other evils consequent to his bargain. 
 Her son's annoyance w^as much lessened by her 
 cx)mposed reception, of what he so much dreaded 
 to tell her. Indeed, his vexation was rather be- 
 cause he felt the disapproval of his friends, than 
 from a sense of his own wrongfulness. 
 
 Of ^Ir. Hyde, he had seen but little lately, and 
 the subject of Mr. Schelling's influence was never 
 broached between them. Both felt that they 
 coidd scarcely trust to even the strength of their 
 mutual attachment — to speak patiently and im- 
 partially of it ; for the Rector was uncompromis-
 
 CATIIAL MORE. 327 
 
 ingly plain in his exposal and condemnation of 
 principles which he knew to be wrong. 
 
 It was on the eighteenth of September, that Mr. 
 Schelling arrived; such a calm, fine day, that ^^(• all 
 felt cheerful, even in momentary expectation of his 
 coming. I know not how it was, but I always, 
 even then, connected him in my mind with mis- 
 fortune and dissension. Yet, on that day, I could 
 feel nothing but quiet satisfaction, and relief from 
 the weight which had hung on us during the pre- 
 ceding year. I watched the setting sun, redden- 
 ing the thick stalks of corn in the fields, and 
 the harvest moon rising to wait on her lord and 
 master ; his hand-maiden to attend us, when he 
 has lain down in rest. The bkds were twittering 
 and fluttering before they went to roost, and all 
 nature was joining in the evening anthem. I could 
 not but also join mentally in a hynm of thank- 
 fulness for our good harvest and hopeful autumn. 
 
 His carriage and four broke the silence, as it 
 dashed up the hilly avenue with a last effort 
 of the post-horses, its occupants passing me un- 
 observed on the path. Strangely enough, it was 
 just where the new chapel gleamed through the 
 trees, that it overtook me ; and 1 coukl see 
 Mr. Schelling pointing the building out to a gen- 
 tleman sitting in tlie backseat of the britschka.
 
 328 CATHAL MORE. 
 
 R\ij)(Tt*s countenance I saw, as the red sun- 
 light on the horizon glanced upon it through the 
 trees. It was sad; so sad, that I thought I saw 
 wTongly, until a second glimpse again showed 
 me its expression. He was looking away from 
 the cha})el, and seemed to take no interest in 
 his father's remarks. The carriage turned a 
 wooded corner, leaving me to tliink over what 
 was to come. 
 
 " The people are, I trust, safe," I said to my- 
 self ; ** Unitarianism is the last heresy to attract 
 the ignorant. — 1 wonder what this stranger is 
 like ; — the first dissenting minister I ever saw in 
 Cappagh ; — he looks thin, and sallow ; — bilious 
 temperament, — an intriguer,! dare say. ]\Ir. Hyde 
 refused the invitation to Cappagh for dinner ; — no 
 wonder, as he is there. — Singular, that Mr. Schel- 
 ling did not leave him in the village, where there 
 are lodgings for him. — This will put Cathal in an 
 awkward predicament, seeming to give such open 
 countenance to this fearful dissent. — Mrs. More 
 will be much distressed. I must walk on, and 
 see how she bears it." And so I soliloquized until 
 I reached the hall-door ; I saw a great deal of 
 luggage being carried in ; gun-cases, and fishing- 
 rods ; auguries that the visitors would stay, at 
 least a week. 1 found Mrs. More alone, and
 
 CATHAL MORE. 329 
 
 looking better than I had expected. On her, 1 
 always observed that sorrows preyed most, wliile 
 they were casting their shadows before. When 
 they really came — and they had come on her of 
 late in battalions — she bore up with energy 
 against them, and w^as ever prepared to strengthen 
 and console those who were ready to sink. Yet 
 she was keenly alive, and sensitive to evils ; 
 and phlegm of character was not the cause of 
 her calm — 
 
 I pressed her hand in silence. 
 
 " Nay, Doctor," she said, interpreting my look 
 of inquiry ; " it is too late now to avert the mis- 
 chief ; it is useless grieving over it ; we must only 
 be doubly diligent in all duties of our church." 
 
 " You are right, my dear madam ; but was it 
 no surprise to you, seeing this Unitarian minister?" 
 
 ** I knew there must be one, when there 
 was a chapel ; and, from what I have known of 
 Mr. Schelling, I guessed that he woidd try to 
 build up his agent in the minds of our people, 
 by assuming my son's countenance for him." 
 
 " But do you not think it e.xtreniely imper- 
 tinent?" I asked. 
 
 " As to that, Doctor, the impertinence was 
 committed long since — not by Mr. SchelHng. but 
 by my son, when he insulted our church, and
 
 330 CATIIAL MORK. 
 
 trutli, by Ills conduct. I cminot complain, — hul 
 rather acknowledge that wc deserve every annoy- 
 ance from these strangers." 
 
 Cathal came in as 1 was ahont to reply, and 
 Mrs. More changed the subject hastily — and in 
 time — for the three strangers were not a moment 
 behind her son. 
 
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