CHAPTER XIII "ALL THINGS TO ALL MEN" In pursuing my course of lectures to my young curate--lectures which he returned with compound interest by his splendid example of zeal and energy--I put into his hands the following lines, addressed by that gentle saint, Francis de Sales, to some one in whom he had a similar interest:-- "Accustom yourself to speak softly and slowly, and to go--I mean walk--quite composedly; to do all that you do gently and quietly, and you will see that in three or four years you will have quite regulated this hasty impetuosity. But carefully remember to act thus gently and speak softly on occasions when the impetuosity is not urging you, and when there is no appearance of danger of it, as, for example, when sitting down, rising up, eating, when you speak to N. N., etc.; and in fact everywhere and in everything dispense not yourself from it. Now, I know that you will make a thousand slips a day over all this, and that your great natural activity will be always breaking out; but I do not trouble myself about this provided that it is not your will, your deliberation; and that, when you perceive these movements, you always try to calm them. Equableness of mind and of outward demeanor is not a particular virtue, but the interior and exterior ornament of a friend of Jesus Christ." (Letter VII.) Now, here's the difficulty. Undoubtedly he is impetuous, he rushes at conclusions too rapidly, he judges hastily; and with an imperfect knowledge of human nature, which is a mass of irregularities, he worries himself because he cannot bring a whole parish up to his level in a few weeks. That impetuosity shows itself everywhere. He is an anachronism, a being from another time and world, set down in sleepy Kilronan. For the first few weeks that he was here, whenever he slammed his hall door and strode down the village street with long, rapid, undulating steps, all the dogs came out and barked at him for disturbing their slumbers, and all the neighbors came to their doors and asked wildly, "Who's dead? What happened? Where's the fire?" etc., and the consequence was that the wildest rumors used to be circulated; and then, when a few days' experience disproved them, the cumulative wrath of the disappointed villagers fell on Father Letheby's devoted head. "Why the mischief doesn't he go aisy? Sure, you'd think he was walking for a wager. He'll kill himself in no time if he goes on that way."