"Say? Tell him you'll stand no innovations in your parish. _Nil innovetur, nisi quod prius traditum est._ Tell him that he must go along with all the other priests of the diocese and conform to the general regulations,--_Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus_. Tell him that young men must know their place; and then take up the _Selva_, or the Fathers, and prove it to him." "God bless you!" said I, thankfully and humbly. "You have taken a load off my heart. Now, let me see would this do." I took down from the dusty shelves a favorite little volume,--a kind of Anthology of the early Fathers, and I opened it. "We'll try the _sortes Virgilianæ_" I said, and read slowly and with emphasis:-- "At nunc, etiam sacerdotes Dei, omissis Evangeliis et Prophetis, vidimus comœdias legere, amatoria Bucolicorum versuum verba cantare, tenere Virgilium, et id quod in pueris necessitatis est, crimen in se facere voluptatis." "That's not bad," said my hearer, critically, whilst I held the book open with horror and amazement. "That applies to him, I'm sure. But what's the matter, Father Dan? You are not ill?" "No," said I, "I'm not; but I'm slightly disconcerted. That anathema strikes me between the two eyes. What else have I been doing for fifty years but thumbing Horace and Virgil?" "Oh, never mind," he said, airily. "Who wrote that? That's extreme, you know." "An altogether wise and holy man, called St. Jerome," I said. "Ah, well, he was a crank. I don't mean that. That sounds disrespectful. But he was a reformer, you know." "A kind of innovator, like this young man of mine?" I said. "Ah, well, try some sensible saint. Try now St. Bernard. He was a wise, gentle adviser." I turned to St. Bernard, and read:-- "Lingua magniloqua--manus otiosa! Sermo multus--fructus nullus! Vultus gravis--actus levis! Ingens auctoritas--nutans stabilitas!" That hit my friend between the eyes. The auguries were inauspicious. He took up his hat. "You are not going?" said I, reaching for the bell. "I am just sending for Father Letheby to let you see how I can cuff him--" "I--I--must be going," he said; "I have a sick-call--that is--an engagement--I--er--expect a visitor--will call again. Good day." "Stay and have a glass of wine!" I said. "No, no, many thanks; the mare is young and rather restive. _Au revoir!_"