os and strangeness about them, which in its way has, perhaps, never been equalled.
It was the sternness of the Scotch Covenanter, softened by a century's residence abroad, amid persecution and trial, wedded to the comic humor and pathos of the Irish, and then grown wild in the woods among their own New England mountains.
There never existed a people at once so jovial and so religious.
This volume could be filled with a collection of their religious repartees and pious jokes.
It was Pat. Larkin, a Scotch-Irishman, near Londonderry, who, when he was accused of being a Catholic, because his parents were Catholics, replied: If a man happened to be born in a stable, would that make him a horse?
and he won his bride by that timely spark.
Quaint, bold, and witty were the old Scotch-Irish clergymen, the men of the siege, as mighty with carnal weapons as with spiritual.
There was no taint of the sanctimonious In their rough, honest, and healthy natures.
During the old French war,