“Not at all; but from mere carelessness. The next two days he was out with his laborers, and if a cow or pig chanced--(the villain! we'll hang him to a certainty)--chanced, I say, to stray into the field, he would shy the shovel hat at them, without remorse. Oh! we must have him, by all means. But who next? Sir Jenkins Joram. Give him plenty to drink, and he is satisfied.” “But what are his political principles, papa?” “They are to be found in the bottle, Helen, which is the only creed, political or religious, to which I ever knew him to be attached; and I tell you, girl, that if every Protestant in Ireland were as deeply devoted to his Church as he is to the bottle, we would soon be a happy people, uncorrupted by treacherous scoundrels, who privately harbor Papists and foster Popery itself. (The infernal scoundrel.)” “But, papa,” replied his daughter, with a melancholy smile, “I think I know some persons, who, although very loud and vehement in their outcry against Popery, have, nevertheless, on more than one or two occasions, harbored Papists in their house, and concealed even priests, when the minions of the law were in search of them.” “Yes, and it is of this cursed crew of hollow Protestants that I now speak--ahem--ay--ha--well, what the devil--hem. To be sure I--I--I--but it doesn't signify; we can't be wise at all times. But after all, Helen (she has me there), after all, I say, there are some good Papists, and some good--ahem--priests, too. There now, I've got it out. However, Helen, those foolish days are gone, and we have nothing for it now but to hunt Popery out of the country. But to proceed as to the dinner.” “I think Popery is suffering enough, sir, and more than enough.” “Ho, ho,” he exclaimed with triumph, “here comes the next on my list--a fine fellow, who will touch it up still more vigorously--I mean Captain Smellpriest.” “I have heard of that inhuman man,” replied Helen; “I wish you would not ask him, papa. I am told he equals Sir Robert Whitecraft in both cowardice and cruelty. Is not that a nickname he has got in consequence of his activity in pursuit of the unfortunate priests?” “It's a nickname he has given himself,” replied her father; “and he has become so proud of it that he will allow himself to be called by no other. He swears that if a priest gets on the windy side of him, he will scent him as a hound would a fox. Oh! by my honor, Smellpriest must be here. The scoundrel like Whitecraft!--eh-what am I saying? Smellpriest, I say, first began his career as a friend to the Papists; he took large tracts of land in their name, and even purchased a couple of estates with their money; and in due time, according as the tide continued to get strong against them, he thought the best plan to cover his villany--ahem--his policy, I mean--was to come out as a fierce loyalist; and as a mark of his repentance, he claimed the property, as the real purchaser, and arrested those who were fools enough to trust him.”