of expression.  In a word, they were firm, resolute, and energetic.  Among the latter, the busiest by far, and the most zealous was Father M’Cabe, who assumed among his own party much the same position that Mr. Lucre did among his.  He was, no doubt of it, in great glee, and searched out for Mr. Lucre’s eye, in order to have a friendly glance with him, before the play commenced.  Lucre perceived this, and avoided him as much as he could; but, in fact, the thing was impossible.  At length he caught the haughty parson’s eye, and exclaimed with a comical grin, which was irresistible—­

“I am glad to see you here, Mr. Lucre; who knows, but we may make a Christian of you yet.  You know that we, as Catholics, maintain that the power of working miracles is in the Church still; and that, certainly, would prove it.”

Mr. Lucre bowed, and smiled contemptuously, but made no reply.

When the chairman was appointed, and the regulations by which the meeting was to be guided, read and assented to by both parties, the melee commenced; and, indeed, we are bound to say, that a melancholy comment upon Christian charity it was.  It is not our intention to give anything like a report of this celebrated discussion, inasmuch, as two reports, each the genuine and authentic one, and each most egregiously contradictory of the other, have been for several years before the public, who, consequently, have a far better right to understand the business than we do, who are at this distant date merely the remote historian.

We may be permitted to say, however, that the consequences of this great discussion were such as are necessarily produced by every exhibition of the kind.  For a considerable time afterwards nothing was heard between Catholic and Protestant but fierce polemics, and all the trite and wordy arguments that are to be found in the mouths of ignorant and prejudiced men on both sides.  The social harmony of the district was disturbed, and that friendly intercourse which should subsist between neighbors, was either suspended or destroyed.  A fierce spirit of exacerbation and jealousy was created, and men looked Upon each other with bitterness and resentment; whilst to complete the absurdity, neither party could boast of a single convert to attest the glory of the triumph which each claimed.

At this period, the character of the Castle Cumber yeomanry corps, or as they were called, M’Clutchy’s Blood-hounds, was unquestionably in such infamous odor with all but bigots, in consequence of their violence when upon duty, that a few of the more mild and benevolent gentry of the neighborhood, came to the determination of forming a corps composed of men not remarkable for the extraordinary and exclusive loyalty which put itself forth in so many offensive and oppressive forms.  Deaker’s Dashers were by no means of such rancid bigotry as M’Clutchy’s men, although they were, heaven knows, much worse than they ought to have been.