6 HOME, SWEET HOME.'

319

lingly sink into a state of inglorious inactivity; never will I desert my post in the midst of the battle.' 'But your life,' replied his physicians, 'is at stake.' 'If so;' said he, 'it cannot be sacrificed in a better cause. If I am to die, I will die in harness.'

He returned to Ireland in the month of December 1851.

CHAPTER XL.

Returns to Ireland-The Confirmed Drunkard-Glad to see Beggars again-The last of John-His Visitors at Lehenagh-Insanity of Drink -The Hundred Invitations to Dinner.

WHILE in Dublin, he spent some days in visiting friends whom he desired to see once more. Going out one morning with this intention, he suddenly said to his nephew, by whom he was accompanied, 'Tell the driver to stop, my dear. There is poor ,' mentioning the name of an unhappy artist whom he had often befriended, and whom he had ineffectually endeavoured to redeem from confirmed drunkenness. The driver pulled up; and there, on the side-path, stood a shabbylooking battered man, blear-eyed, red-nosed, dirty and uncombed, his coat buttoned up to conceal the want of a shirt. The recognition had been mutual. Though Father Mathew's hair was now grey, and gradually approaching to white, there was no mistaking that well-known countenance, which preserved its nobleness of outline and unchanging sweetness of expression. As the miserable creature approached the carriage, he burst into a kind of drunken cry, and seizing the hand of his old benefactor, he kissed it passionately, his emotion depriving him of the power of articulation. Tears streamed down the face of Father Mathew, who could only murmer, 'Poor child! poor child!' as he slipped a bank note into the hand of the prodigal. So long as he could keep him in sight, Father Mathew's glance was fixed on the unhappy being, who remained motionless in the same spot, a miserable object to contemplate. The carriage turned the corner of the street, and the two men never again saw each other in this world. The drunkard died as he had lived-in misery and shame.

About the same time, a beggar, who had accosted him in the usual way, imploring his charity-'for the love of the Lord and for all the sowls that ever left him'-was surprised and overjoyed at finding his appeal responded to by the bestowal of half-a-crown.

'That's an immense sum, sir, to give to a mere beggar, who would be well content with a penny,' said the nephew. 'Oh, my dear,' replied Father Mathew, ‘I delight in relieving the poor. It is my great happiness. I scarcely

ever met a beggar in America-for months together I could not see one; and it was a privation to me to have no one to relieve and make happy for a moment.' The good man did not do himself justice when he thus spoke; for though he rarely met a professional mendicant in the United States, he was in the daily habit of relieving distress, and making many happy by his bounty.

His altered appearance, as he returned to Lehenagh, inspired his family with sorrow and apprehension. But however striking the change in his health, his nature and disposition were still the same,—the same benevolence and kindness—the same thoughtfulness and consideration for the wishes and feelings of others.

6

The

One cannot be absent for two or three years from his home without finding, on his return, that changes have taken place, or that death has been at work, even in his own family circle. Father Mathew had not to deplore the loss of a member of his family; but there was one longfamiliar face which he was never to see more. That was the sou visage of his man John. It was against John's most solemn warning and appalling prophecy that the priest resolved on going to America. To John's accurate conception of that country, it was the abode of blacks and 'wild Ingins,' and tomahawks and scalps were constantly associated with his ideas of its civilisation. 'Don't leave your own fine country, sir,' pleaded John, and I will never desert you. boards will carry me out of this house.' 'What does John mean by "the boards" carrying him out, sir?' asked his nephew. He means his coffin, my dear,' said Father Mathew, who was intimately acquainted with the figurative style in which, in moments of strong emotion. his venerable domestic indulged. 'Don't, sir, don't go to them bloodyminded savages,' were John's parting words. But his master wen and John remained behind, well provided for. But having been abandoned by its leader, what had John to do with temperance? No thing. With bitter disdain, John flung off the mask he had but par tially worn, and celebrated his liberty in a series of wild and prolonge potations. When the tidings of his master's illness reached hom John's grief was to a great extent softened by the triumph of his ow predictions. He always knew how it would be, and he told him what would happen; for sure a country of blacks and ' Ingins' was no place for a Christian. Sourer and more saturnine became John's temperdeeper and deeper his potations; until one day death surprised hir in a sickness which John solely attributed to his intense grief at the continued absence of his master, but which others, including the dotor who attended him, accounted for on very different ground However, the little man was carried in 'the boards' to his last restingplace, a considerable time before the return of the priest from the lan of the 'blacks and Ingins.' Father Mathew thought of John as Princ?

HIS VISITORS AT LEHENAGH.

321

Hal spoke of Falstaff-he could have 'better spared a better man.' The very weaknesses of the cross-grained little sinner only the more endeared him to his tolerant and indulgent master.

No sooner was it generally known that Father Mathew had taken up his residence at Lehenagh, than the quiet of that secluded home was at an end. His old friends the beggars flocked to visit the benefactor who had never troubled them with searching examinations to test the truth of their story, but who relieved them at every risk-even of his donation being converted into the fiery devil against which he waged incessant war. Under the shade of a spreading tree in summer, or on the door-steps in winter, the beggars mustered; and the same impostors frequently received the dole three or four times in the same day. Nor was Father Mathew obliged to anyone who exposed the imposition. It afforded him happiness to bestow charity, and he did not care to enquire too minutely into the merits of each case. The proof of their imposture would only have caused him pain.

Soon the clatter of the drum and the braying of the trumpet scared the rooks in the old avenue, as some temperance band, which had survived the famine, roused him with its familiar strains; and soon, too, the spacious hall became redolent of strange odours, of which that of bad whisky was the most marked and the most easily discerned. So long as he remained at Lehenagh, he had constant visits from repentant drunkards, whom he received with unfailing benignity. He appeared to think everything else secondary to the reclamation of an erring mortal; and the sooner he could devote himself to this duty, the greater his satisfaction. To the last, he rose at an early hour, and until his strength utterly gave way, he said mass frequently on weekdays, and always on Sundays and holidays-the household forming his congregation. No excuse would be taken by him for the absence of one of the young people, who were obliged to be most punctual in their attendance.

Though he rose at five o'clock, he did not usually leave his room until it was time for breakfast. The intermediate hours were occupied in prayer and meditation, and in religious exercises which he never omitted to perform. But he would at any time leave his breakfast or dinner if he happened to catch a glimpse of a 'case' which he thought demanded his immediate attention; and the family were compelled to adopt various precautions against intrusion during those hours. Once, however, that the breakfast with him a scanty meal— was despatched, he was from that moment on the look-out for his unfailing beggars and his repentant profligates.

Many an absurd and many a painful scene was witnesssed before that hall-door, as some tattered creature broke away from his wretched wife, and was captured and brought to Father Mathew, who had

witnessed the flight and capture with intense interest, and had tottered down the stone steps and along the avenue, to meet the prize halfway. Once within his influence, opposition was out of the question.

Even the great dog, to which a beggar was an object of profound mistrust, seemed to take kindly to the pledge-seekers and the pledgebreakers; for he would thrust his nose amicably into the hand of some poor fellow who had not spent the Saturday night and Sunday in the most creditable manner.

'Dan, that's a fine dog,' remarked a teetotaller to an erring friend whom he had in charge. 'He is, Maurice, a fine baste, and a mighty friendly one, too.' 'Dan,' resumed his sober friend, 'I'm thinking that dog has more sense than you.' 'Wisha, that would be aisy for him, the Lord knows,' was the humble reply. 'See, Dan!-there's that dog, and the devil himself wouldn't make him take a taste of sperrits; but the devil can't keep you from it-and that dog, we're tould, has no raison, and you have.' I ought to have it, Maurice, sure enough; but when I take a drop at all, I'm bothered complately.' 'Right, my dear,' said Father Mathew, who had heard the dialogue with delight; we lower ourselves far below the brute when we indulge in a degrading passion, that robs us of our most glorious birthright-our The Great Being who made us did not render us dependent upon a vicious stimulant for our health and happiness. We don't require it, and we are better without it. Do not mind anyone who says to the contrary.'

reason.

The men were not always the most difficult to deal with. Women were brought to him by their husbands, whose means they had destroyed, and whose happiness they had wrecked. Some were dogged and stubborn, others insensible to every feeling of shame or compunction, and more were labouring under the influence of that terrible malady, delirium tremens. 'There is a devil in me-there is a devil in me!'. shrieked out a young woman, whose flushed face, wild stare, and frantic gestures proved that she was suffering from the insanity of drink. Yes, indeed, the devil of drink possesses you, my poor woman,' said Father Mathew. 'There! he says I'm a devil-that the devil is in me! I knew it I knew it-I'm damned !-I know I'm damned!-the devil is dragging me down to hell! There! there! there!' Wilder and wilder grew her shrieks, as the paroxysm of the madness increased in intensity. The poor husband's dejected appearance, as he gazed upon the fury with a look in which shame and affection were blended, spoke a volume of domestic misery and disappointed hope. When the paroxysm subsided, Father Mathew brought his influence to bear on her; and ere many weeks had passed, a modest, blushing wife, fell on her knees before him, kissed his hand with passionate fervour, and thanked him, amidst sobs and tears, for the peace of heart and home which she then enjoyed.

THE HUNDRED INVITATIONS TO DINNER.

323

The husband's fervid 'God bless your reverence!' was fully as expressive in its gratitude.

As long as he could, he kept up his visits to old friends; and with that purpose he frequently drove into the city, which was about two miles distant from Lehenagh. One day he returned unusually animated. Something must have pleased you very much, sir?' remarked Mrs. Mathew. The priest then told how he had been invited to dinner by the little son of a respectable mechanic, whom he met in the street. 'Father Mathew,' said the little fellow, 'do come and dine with us-we have such a nice dinner.' 'What have you, my dear?' enquired Father Mathew. 'We have a fine leg of mutton, and we have turnips, and we have potatoes,' replied the child. 'Have you no

cakes, my dear?' said Father Mathew. 'No, sir,' answered the little fellow with an abashed air, as if he had no right to have given an invitation under such circumstances. Then, my dear, you must have them,' said Father Mathew, putting a half-crown into the hand which he held in his own.

6

6

The next day he returned from the city with a more than usually depressed air. What is the matter, sir?-has anything annoyed you?' enquired his sister-in-law. My dear, I received a hundred invitations to dinner from a hundred little boys to-day!' was his reply, in a mournful tone of voice. He could not for a time enjoy the amuse · ment which the story evidently caused to his listeners.

There were other visitors to Lehenagh beside beggars, impostors, and people to take the pledge. These were persons who had come in the hope of being cured of their bodily ailments.

CHAPTER XLI.

Father Mathew's alleged Power of effecting Cures-General Belief in
this Power-The chronic Headache-Dr. Barter's Testimony-Instances
of his strange Influence-Pilgrimages to his Grave.

WHATEVER may be the opinions entertained as to Father Mathew's reputed power of effecting cures in certain cases of disease, the subject, however delicate, is one to which I cannot avoid alluding. Were I to refrain from noticing it, I should appear as if shrinking from the risk of hostile criticism; and I would moreover fail in adequately representing the veneration in which he was held by the Irish people. The subject is one which occasioned much interest during his lifetime, and since his decease.

That Father Mathew was the cause of cures being effected, I cannot