“We’ve fallen on frightful days, Mr Armstrong,” said Mr O’Joscelyn:  “frightful, lawless, dangerous days.”

“We must take them as we find them, Mr O’Joscelyn.”

“Doubtless, Mr Armstrong, doubtless; and I acknowledge His infinite wisdom, who, for His own purposes, now allows sedition to rear her head unchecked, and falsehood to sit in the high places.  They are indeed dangerous days, when the sympathy of government is always with the evil doers, and the religion of the state is deserted by the crown.”

“Why, God bless me!  Mr O’Joscelyn!—­the queen hasn’t turned Papist, and the Repealers are all in prison, or soon will be there.”

“I don’t mean the queen.  I believe she is very good.  I believe she is a sincere Protestant, God bless her;” and Mr O’Joscelyn, in his loyalty, drank a glass of port wine; “but I mean her advisers.  They do not dare protect the Protestant faith:  they do not dare secure the tranquillity of the country.”

“Are not O’Connell and the whole set under conviction at this moment?  I’m no politician myself, but the only question seems to be, whether they haven’t gone a step too far?”

“Why did they let that priest escape them?” said Mr O’Joscelyn.

“I suppose he was not guilty;” said Mr Armstrong; “at any rate, you had a staunch Protestant jury.”

“I tell you the priests are at the head of it all.  O’Connell would be nothing without them; he is only their creature.  The truth is, the government did not dare to frame an indictment that would really lead to the punishment of a priest.  The government is truckling to the false hierarchy of Rome.  Look at Oxford,—­a Jesuitical seminary, devoted to the secret propagation of Romish falsehood.—­Go into the churches of England, and watch their bowings, their genuflexions, their crosses and their candles; see the demeanour of their apostate clergy; look into their private oratories; see their red-lettered prayer-books, their crucifixes, and images; and then, can you doubt that the most dreadful of all prophecies is about to be accomplished?”

“But I have not been into their closets, Mr O’Joscelyn, nor yet into their churches lately, and therefore I have not seen these things; nor have I seen anybody who has.  Have you seen crucifixes in the rooms of Church of England clergymen? or candles on the altar-steps of English churches?”

“God forbid that I should willingly go where such things are to be seen; but of the fearful fact there is, unfortunately, no doubt.  And then, as to the state of the country, we have nothing round us but anarchy and misrule:  my life, Mr Armstrong, has not been safe any day this week past.”

“Good Heaven, Mr O’Joscelyn—­your life not safe!  I thought you were as quiet here, in Kildare, as we are in Mayo.”

“Wait till I tell you, Mr Armstrong:  you know this priest, whom they have let loose to utter more sedition?—­He was coadjutor to the priest in this parish.”