MEMORIES OF GLENAUGH. I 17 



with the intense devotion of three or four hun- 

 dred poor creatures, to whom the solemn ser- 

 vice read by the priest has an awful super- 

 natural significance. This Celtic congregation 

 at worship is a wholesome spectacle to witness, 

 no matter what may be your religious creed. 

 The dim aisle is crammed, the wide doors are 

 thrown open, and the yard is covered with a 

 kneeling multitude, to whom the voice of the 

 priest floats out clearly and distinctly above the 

 droning of the stream or the occasional sough 

 of the wind through the trees around us. No 

 soft and cushioned pews here; no hushing 

 lullabies on a velvet-toned organ, by which the 

 soul of a fat sinner may be comfortably ren- 

 dered unconscious, while his snug carcass is, 

 for the sake of respectability, paying its weekly 

 compliment to the Almighty. Now all are 

 standing up ; the spell is broken ; the gossips 

 gather into groups ; youngsters shyly pair off 

 to walk home along a golden path, for even in 

 Arvine and Glenaugh youth has its Arcadian 

 period. Do you see the three strapping lads 

 talking to a blind patriarchal man who stands 

 upon the bridge? These three represent a 



