sed ejus qui misit me, nempe Patris.' And so Father Smyth feels himself
entitled to adopt what was said of the Divine Master, 'Docebat enim eos
ut habens auctoritatem, non autem ut scribae.' St. Matthew, chap. vii, 29.
Hence his preaching, though not remarkable for much eloquence,
does not lull to sleep. There is no cant, and strange as it may appear,
there is little argument in his short-framed sentences, because they are
the decided opinion of his mind and the warm expression of his heart,
anxious for the salvation of his flock, as he believes he will be called
to account if any be lost. He, out of civility, may not object to hear
what Paley or Butler has to say, but he scorns any conversation with Voltaire,
and would see the fellow burnt, as in the times of old. His character
was never impeached, because his conduct is an example to all of the strength
of his faith. Either at the altar or at the table he forgets not
that he belongs to the priesthood of Ireland, the 'proved gold' of the Catholic
church. His song is, 'Erin, my country,' and 'I love thy green bowers,'
is the end of his story, which is a hint to me that this is not the place
to say more for the peace of John Bull. Hence Ireland produced a
Daniel O'Connell, but has not yet got the repeal.

Father Smyth, in addressing the meeting, spoke with coolness and forbearance,
yet commendatory of the constitutional manner in which his congregation sought
redress from the government, for the insult offered them, through his person,
in the abuse of his servant by the trooper Lord. On concluding his address,
he was warmly cheered, when the reverend gentleman and his friends adjourned
to the parsonage, to partake of some refreshments.




Chapter XXI.