"The ideal of the English Church has been to provide a resident gentleman for every parish in the Kingdom, and there have been worse ideals."—SHANE LESLIE.
Aurelle, arriving for tea at the Mess, found only the padre repairing a magic lantern.
"Hullo, messiou," he said, "very glad to see you. I am getting my lantern ready for a sporting sermon to the men of B Company when they come out of the trenches."
"What, padre, you preach sermons now with a magic lantern?'
"My boy, I am trying to make the men come; there are too many who keep away. I know very well that the regiment has a good many Presbyterians, but if you could see the Irish regiments—not a man misses going to Mass. Ah, messiou, the Catholic padres have more influence than we have. I ask myself, why? I go every day to the trenches, and even if the men think me an old fool they might at least recognize that I am a sportsman."
"The regiment is very fond of you, padre. But, if you don't mind my saying so, I think that Catholic priests have a special influence. Confession has something to do with it, but their vow of celibacy more, because, in a sort of way, it makes them different from other people. Even the doctor tones down his best stories when Father Murphy dines with us."
"But, my boy, I love O'Grady's stories; I am an old soldier and a man of the world. When I was shooting in Africa a negro queen made me a present of three young negresses."
"Padre!"
"Oh, I let them go the same day, which annoyed them somewhat. But I don't see why, after that, I need play Mrs. Grundy in the Mess."
One of the orderlies brought some boiling water, and the padre asked Aurelle to make the tea.