brotherhood, which was present throughout all the world, and which
numbered the wisest, the bravest, the highest born, the most eloquent of
men among its members. Father Holt bade him keep his views secret,
and to hide them as a great treasure which would escape him if it was
revealed; and, proud of this confidence and secret vested in him,
the lad became fondly attached to the master who initiated him into
a mystery so wonderful and awful. And when little Tom Tusher, his
neighbor, came from school for his holiday, and said how he, too, was
to be bred up for an English priest, and would get what he called
an exhibition from his school, and then a college scholarship and
fellowship, and then a good living--it tasked young Harry Esmond's
powers of reticence not to say to his young companion, "Church!
priesthood! fat living! My dear Tommy, do you call yours a church and
a priesthood? What is a fat living compared to converting a hundred
thousand heathens by a single sermon? What is a scholarship at Trinity
by the side of a crown of martyrdom, with angels awaiting you as your
head is taken off? Could your master at school sail over the Thames on
his gown? Have you statues in your church that can bleed, speak, walk,
and cry? My good Tommy, in dear Father Holt's church these things take
place every day. You know Saint Philip of the Willows appeared to Lord
Castlewood, and caused him to turn to the one true church. No saints
ever come to you." And Harry Esmond, because of his promise to Father
Holt, hiding away these treasures of faith from T. Tusher, delivered
himself of them nevertheless simply to Father Holt; who stroked his
head, smiled at him with his inscrutable look, and told him that he did
well to meditate on these great things, and not to talk of them except
under direction.