[FOOTNOTE 52:  Orangeman—­a member of the Orange Order, a militant
Irish protestant organization founded in 1746 and
named after William of Orange, who in 1688 deposed
his father-in-law, Catholic King James II, became
King William III, and helped establish protestant
faith as a prerequisite for succession to the
English throne.  The Orange Order is still exists
and remains rabidly anti-Catholic.]

[FOOTNOTE 53:  Anathema Maranatha—­an extreme form of
excommunication from the Catholic church formulated
by the Fathers of the Fourth Council of Toledo. 
The person so excommunicated is also condemned to
damnation at the second coming.]

But though Mr O’Joscelyn did not absolutely give utterance to such imprecations as these against the wolves who, as he thought, destroyed the lambs of his flock,—­or rather, turned his sheep into foxes,—­yet he by no means concealed his opinion, or hid his light under a bushel.  He spent his life—­an eager, anxious, hard-working life, in denouncing the scarlet woman of Babylon and all her abominations; and he did so in season and out of season:  in town and in country; in public and in private; from his own pulpit, and at other people’s tables; in highways and byways; both to friends—­who only partly agreed with him, and to strangers, who did not agree with him at all.  He totally disregarded the feelings of his auditors; he would make use of the same language to persons who might in all probability be Romanists, as he did to those whom he knew to be Protestants.  He was a most zealous and conscientious, but a most indiscreet servant of his Master.  He made many enemies, but few converts.  He rarely convinced his opponents, but often disgusted his own party.  He had been a constant speaker at public meetings; an orator at the Rotunda, and, on one occasion, at Exeter Hall.  But even his own friends, the ultra Protestants, found that he did the cause more harm than good, and his public exhibitions had been as much as possible discouraged.  Apart from his fanatical enthusiasm, he was a good man, of pure life, and simple habits; and rejoiced exceedingly, that, in the midst of the laxity in religious opinions which so generally disfigured the age, his wife and his children were equally eager and equally zealous with himself in the service of their Great Master.

A beneficed clergyman from the most benighted, that is, most Papistical portion of Connaught, would be sure, thought Mr O’Joscelyn, to have a fellow-feeling with him; to sympathise with his wailings, and to have similar woes to communicate.

“How many Protestants have you?” said he to Mr Armstrong, in the drawing-room, a few minutes after they had been introduced to each other.  “I had two hundred and seventy in the parish on New Year’s day; and since that we’ve had two births, and a very proper Church of England police-serjeant has been sent here, in place of a horrid Papist.  We’ve a great gain in Serjeant Woody, my lord.”