“He intends going to the bar, he tells me.”

“He will be heard from yet, or I renounce all claims to common sense,” replied the other.  “There is, unquestionably, a brilliant career before him.”

“I would rather, in the meantime,” observed Mrs. Purcell, “that he had continued steadfast to his religion.  They tell me that he has become a Protestant.”

“Why, I believe he couldn’t gain a scholarship, as you call it, Jack, without becoming a member of the Established Church.”

“No, sir, he could not.”

“Well, then,” proceeded the proctor, “what great harm?  Why, I believe in my soul, that if it weren’t for the bigotry of priests and parsons, who contrive to set the two churches together by the ears, there would be found very little difference between them.  For my part, I believe a good, honest Protestant will go to heaven when a scoundrel Papist won’t, and vice versa.  The truth is, begad, that it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other; and sorry would I be to let so slight a change as passing from one religion to the other ever be a bar to the advancement or good fortune of any one of my children!”

“I would much rather not hear you say so, Mat,” replied his wife; “nor do I ever wish my children to gain either wealth or station in the world by the sacrifice of the highest principle that can bind the heart—­that of religion.”

“Pooh, Nancy, you speak like a woman who never looked beyond the range of the kitchen and larder, or thought beyond the humdrum prayers of your Manual.  I wish to see my children established; I wish to see them gain station in the world; I wish to make them the first of their family; and I do assure you, Nancy, that it is not such a trifle as the difference between popery on the one hand, and Protestantism on the other, that I’d suffer—­that is, if they will be guided by me—­to stand between them and the solid advantages of good connection, and a proper standing in the world.  I say, then, boys and girls, don’t be fools; for, as for my part, I scarcely think, to tell God’s truth, that there’s to the value of sixpence between the two creeds.”

“Father,” said Mary, laughing, “you’re a man of a truly liberal disposition in these matters.”

“But, papa,” said Julia, with an arch look, “if there be not the value of sixpence between the two creeds, perhaps there is more than that between the two clergy?”

The proctor shook his head and laughed.

“Ah, Judy, my girl, you have me there,” he replied; “that goes home to the proctor, you baggage.  Devil a thing, however, like an endowed church, and may God keep me and all my friends from the voluntary system!—­ha! ha! ha!  Come, now, for that same hit at the old proctor, you must walk over here and play me my old favorite, the ’Cannie Soogah,’ just to pull down your pride.  The ‘Cannie Soogah,’ you know, is the Irish for Jolly Pedlar, and a right jolly pedlar your worthy father was once in his days.”