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Peg O' My Heart by J. Hartley Manners
page 13 of 476 (02%)
It pained him to differ from Father Cahill--the one friend of his
youth. If only he could alter the good priest's outlook--win him
over to the great procession that was marching surely and firmly to
self-government, freedom of speech and of action, and to the
ultimate making of men of force out of the crushed and the hopeless.
He would try.

"Father Cahill," he began softly, as though the good priest might be
wooed by sweet reason when the declamaory force of the orator
failed, "don't ye think it would be wiser to attend a little more to
the people's BODIES than to their SOULS? to their BRAINS rather than
to their HEARTS? Don't ye?"

"No, I do NOT," hotly answered the priest.

"Well, if ye DID," said the agitator, "if more priests did, it's a
different Ireland we'd be livin' in to-day--that we would. The
Christian's heaven seems so far away when he's livin' in hell. Try
to make EARTH more like a heaven and he'll be more apt to listen to
stories of the other one. Tache them to kape their hovels clean and
their hearts and lives will have a betther chance of health. Above
all broaden their minds. Give them education and the Divine tachin'
will find a surer restin' place. Ignorance and dirt fill the
hospitals and the asylums, and it is THAT so many of the priests are
fosterin'."

"I'll not listen to another wurrd," cried Father Cahill, turning
away.

O'Connell strode in front of him.
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