Drunken priest.

Father B

wise? Subsequently, by the reading of the Bible and by the grace of God, I was led to embrace the religion of the Gospel.

แ

Although the son of intelligent parents, and educated from my youth for the mercantile profession, the miraculous power of the priest is yet associated with my earliest recollections of him. Two things greatly shook my faith in the possession of this power. There resided not far from my parental residence a priest, whose fame as a miracle-worker was known all over the county in which he resided. The road to his house (called in that country a bridle-road) went by our door. I frequently saw, in the morning, individuals riding by, with a little keg resting before them on the saddle, or a jug hanging by the horse's side. I often asked who they were, and where they were going. I was told that they were going to Father C's to get some of their sick cured. I asked what was in the keg or jug. I was told that it was Irish whisky to pay the priest for his cures. I asked why they went so early in the morning. I was answered that unless they went early they would not find him sober. The tabernacle of poor Father C― was made of dry clay, and needed a daily wetting.

"In one of the large interior towns of Ireland where I resided, the bishop of the diocese met his priests, or a part of them, once a year. Their meeting was always held in the house where I resided, and over the store in which I was then a clerk. Among the priests that always met the bishop was the rollicking Father

B

whose fame as a miracle-worker was extensive.

A stunning answer.

Purgatory.

He had also a reputation for learning and eloquence, and, because of his connection with an old and wealthy family, exerted a wide social influence. He always staid with us when he came to town. About ten o'clock one night, after one of those meetings of bishop and priests, I went out to shut up the store windows, and, hearing a singular noise in the gutter, I went forward and assisted a man out of the mire. I soon recognized him to be Father B, the miracleworker. Running in, I announced, with some excitement, to the lady of the house, that Father B― was drunk in the street. I received for my pains a stunning slap on the side of the face, with this admonition, 'Never say again that a priest is drunk.' This was a very impressive argument, and which, for some time, rung in my ears. I staggered under the blow. I assisted in cleaning off his reverence. I gave him his brandy next morning; and, young as I was, my faith in miracle-working priests was effectually shaken. Although fearing to draw the conclusion, I felt it, that God would not bestow miraculous power upon those who lived a life, not of occasional, but of habitual intemperance.

"The doctrine of Purgatory is one of the peculiar and most cherished doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church. In Ireland the custom of the priest is, at a certain point in the service of the Mass, to turn his back to the altar and his face to the people, and to read a long list of the names of deceased persons whose souls are in Purgatory, and to offer up a prayer for their deliverance from it. This is done, or used

The widow's Mass.

No pay, no pray.

to be done, in our chapel on every Sabbath. To obtain the name of a deceased relative on that magic list, the priest must be paid so much a year, varying, I believe, with the ability of the friends to pay. If the yearly payment is not made when due, the name of the person is erased from the list. A respectable man in our parish died in midlife, leaving a widow and a large family of children to mourn his loss. True to her religious principles and to her generous instincts, the widow had her husband's name placed on that list, and heard, with pious gratitude, his name read over from Sabbath to Sabbath, with a prayer of fered for the deliverance of his soul from Purgatory. After the lapse of two or three years, on a certain Sabbath the name of her husband was omitted from the list. The fact filled her with mingled joy and fear-joy, thinking that her husband had escaped from Purgatory; and fear, lest she had done something to offend the priest; and they are very easily offended when money is in question. On timid inquiry, she learned that his soul was yet in Purgatory, but that she had forgotten to send in the yearly tax at the time it was due. The tax was promptly paid, and the name was restored on the next Sabbath. That widow was my own mother, who sought the release of the soul of my father from Purgatory. This incident made a deep impression upon my youthful mind, and shook my faith in the whole system. And, as far as memory serves me, Father Mwas an amiable man, and above the ordinary level of the men of his call

ing.

'Two kinds of sinners.

Saints and angels.

'Another fact which early impressed me in reference to Purgatory was this. The Romish Church makes a distinction between mortal and venial sinners. The former go to hell forever; the latter go to Purgatory, 'whence they are taken by the prayers and alms of fered for them, and principally by the holy sacrifice of the Mass.' Now I always saw that the most mortal sinners, that every body would say went to hell, could always have masses said for them as if they went to Purgatory, provided their friends could pay; and that less mortal sinners, that people would say went to Purgatory, were sent to hell if their friends could not pay for masses for them; and their souls were kept in Purgatory for a long while when their friends paid promptly every year, but their souls were soon prayed out whose friends could not pay long for them. Facts like these very early impressed my mind, and shook my faith in the religion of my parents and priests; and when, in maturer years, I could more fully consider them, they led me to reject religion as a fable cunningly devised by priests.

"Again: to pray to angels and saints is a doctrine of the Romish Church. In our parish chapel there were a great many pictures of saints, with very little pretension to art, and which reflected but little credit on painter or engraver. Whose pictures they were I do not remember; but on Sabbath morning, an hour before Mass, I have often seen the poor people, and even some more wealthy and refined, going on their knees from the one picture to the other, and counting their beads, and bowing before them with external acts of

Idolatry.

The confessional.

the most profound and sincere worship. Although then I thought differently, I have not now a doubt but that it was idolatry. But the idea that struck me was this: Here are some praying to Peter, or Paul, or John, or Mary; the same pictures are hung up in ten thousand chapels all over the world, and in all these chapels persons are praying to them. Can these good saints hear but in one place, or can they hear all every where praying to them? If they can hear all, then they are omnipresent; if omnipresent, they are gods. Thus we have as many gods as saints. But if they hear but in one place, then nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine out of the ten thousand are praying to an absent saint! This one thought very early in life. impressed my mind, and was not the least powerful among the causes which led me, eventually, to reject the authority of the Roman Catholic Church.

"The doctrine of confession is one of the primary doctrines of the Romish Church. It requires every good papist to confess his sins to a priest at least once a year. If any sins are concealed, none are forgiven. This doctrine makes the bosom of the priest the repository of all the sins of all the sinners of his parish who make a conscience of confession. Hence the common saying in Ireland, 'You carry as much sin about you as the priest's horse.' And this is one of the sources of the fearful power which the priests have over the people; and with this doctrine of confession is connected the power of the father confessor to grant absolution to the confessing penitent.

"Father M-held frequently his confessions at the