"'Might I ask whom you expected?'
"'Well,' said Mr. Littell, somewhat nettled by this cross-examination, 'I expect a Catholic priest.'
"'Well, suppose you take me for a Catholic priest.'
"Surveying the beardless youth from top to bottom, Mr. Littell tartly replied:
"'Go back to your wooden college, sir, and get more beard on your upper lip before you come to palm yourself off on me as a Catholic priest.'
"'Well,' said the stranger, 'beard or no beard, you must take me for a priest.'
"'Perhaps,' thought Mr. Littell, 'I may after all be mistaken; he may be a priest,' and giving him another searching look he inquired:
"'Am I talking to Father Bulger?'
"'You are,' said the young Father, smilingly; and his laughter drowned the apologies and put to flight the discomfiture of good Mr. Littell.
"Father Bulger was a regular apostle; he travelled through Hudson, Passaic and Sussex counties. I remember he was once invited to preach in Newton, and the Presbyterian Church was offered to him. But when the day came for the lecture, the bluelights feared to admit the papist into their sanctuary. To the dismay of the most prominent member of the congregation—an Irishman—they gave a point blank refusal to allow him to preach in their church. Chagrined but undaunted, the Irishman went to the judge who was then presiding over the Sussex Circuit, related to him all the circumstances, and asked him to adjourn the Court so that the priest might give his lecture. Court was adjourned; the judge and a host of legal fledglings, who have since arisen to fame and honor, listened to the young priest's masterly handling of the doctrine of the Real Presence.