“I cannot but feel myself happy,” said he, “in returning to the roof of so hospitable a father; but sensible to the influences of religion, as I humbly trust I am, I must express a still higher gratification in having the delightful opportunity of making the acquaintance of two reverend gentlemen, whose proper and becoming example will, I am sure, guide my steps—­if I have only grace to follow it—­into those serious and primitive habits which characterize themselves, and are so decent and exemplary in the ministers of religion.  They may talk of the light of the gospel; but, if I don’t mistake, the light of the gospel itself might pale its ineffectual fires before that which shines in their apostolic countenances.”

The mirth occasioned by this covert, but comical, rebuke, fell rather humorously upon the two worthy gentlemen, who, being certainly good-natured and excellent men, laughed heartily.

“That’s a neat speech,” said the parson, “but not exactly appropriate.  Father Tom and I are quite unworthy of the compliment he has paid us.”

“Neat,” said Father Tom; “I don’t know whether the gentleman has a profession or not; but from the tone and spirit in which he spoke, I think that if he has taken up any other than that of his church, he has missed his vocation.  My dear parson, he talks of the light of our countenances—­a light that is lit by hospitality on the one hand, and moderate social enjoyment on the other.  It is a light, however, that neither of us would exchange for a pale face and an eye that seems to have something mysterious at the back of it.”

“Come, come, Harry,” said Lindsay, “you mustn’t be bantering these two gentlemen; as I said of yourself, the longer you know them the better you will relish them.  They have both too much sense to carry religion about with them like a pair of hawkers, crying out ’who’ll buy, who’ll buy;’ neither do they wear long faces, nor make themselves disagreeable by dragging religion into every subject that becomes the topic of conversation.  On the contrary, they are cheerful, moderately social, and to my own knowledge, with all their pleasantry, are active exponents of much practical benevolence to the poor.  Come, man, take your wine, and enjoy good company.”

“Lindsay,” said one of the guests, a magistrate, “how are we to get the country quiet?  Those rapparees and outlaws will play the devil with us if we don’t put them down.  That young scoundrel, Shawn na Middogue, is at the head of them it is said, and, it would seem, possesses the power of making himself invisible; for we cannot possibly come at him, although he has been often seen by others.”

“Why, what has been Shawn’s last exploit?”

“Nothing that I have heard of since Bingham’s robbery; but there is none of us safe.  Have you your house and premises secured?”

“Not I,” replied Lindsay, “unless by good bolts and bars, together with plenty of arms and ammunition.”