Some two or three days ago, he had come running down from Kilmore
with the news that a baby had been born out of wedlock, and Father
Stafford had shown no desire that his curate should denounce the
girl from the altar.

"The greatest saints," he said, "have been kind, and have found
excuses for the sins of others."

And a few days later, when Father Maguire told his uncle that the
Salvationists had come to Kilmore, and that he had walked up the
village street and slit their drum with a carving knife, his uncle
had not approved of his conduct, and what had especially annoyed
Father Tom was that his uncle seemed to deplore the slitting of
the drum in the same way as he deplored that the Kavanaghs had a
barrel of porter in every Saturday, namely, as one of those
regrettable excesses to which human nature is liable. On being
pressed he had agreed with his nephew that dancing and drinking
were no preparation for the Sabbath, but he would not agree that
evil could be suppressed by force. He had even hinted that too
strict a rule brought about a revolt against the rule, and when
Father Tom had expressed his disbelief at any revolt against the
authority of the priest, Father Stafford said:--

"They may just leave you, they may just go to America."

"Then you think that it is our condemnation of sin that is driving
the people to America."

"My dear Tom, you told me the other day that you met a lad and a
lass walking along the roadside, and that you drove them home. You