Then says Father Sebastian in French-- “You English are a stirring and industrious nation, sir. Sure we can’t never hope to equal you in this.” “It seems to me, sir,” says I, “with all respect to you, that in the present posture of affairs, your governors are much to blame in that they allow so many of your men to stay idle in monasteries, instead of arming ’em and setting ’em to drill or to work. Why, ’tis said you have more Europe men in the convents here than in all your garrisons, and King Seva Gi and his Morattys at your very gates.” “But pray, sir,” saith he, very meekly, “could these persons be better employed than in beseeching God to favour the arms of their country, and His saints to keep the enemy at a distance?” “Indeed, sir,” says I, “speaking with all deference to you, I must say that all these Black, White, or Gray Friars do the country no good, nor the Church no credit. Were his highness to order ’em all on to the walls for to be taught how to handle a fusee or a pike, ’twould provide for the place a handsome garrison, and rid the town of a lazy set of rascals.” I was about to continue, growing warm in the subject, the which had much exercised me since my coming to Goa, when Dom Lewis pressed my arm, and I followed his eyes to a certain island in the river, where was a great void place with high posts set up therein, and seats of stone at one side thereof. I had seen this place before, and Peter also had pointed me to it, but it seemed to me that I had never yet truly understood what was done there. ’Twas the burning-place of the Inquisition. I stopped suddenly in my speech, but Dom Lewis said somewhat touching the time of day, and we passed on.