of a Roman Catholic, in the Dublin _Review_, of June, 1853: "Who will
say that the uncommon beauty and marvelous English of the Protestant
Bible is not one of the strongholds of heresy in this country? It lives
on the ear like music that can never be forgotten, like the sound of
church-bells, which the convert hardly knows how he can forego. Its
felicities often seem to be things rather than mere words. It is part of
the national mind, and the anchor of national seriousness. Nay, it is
worshiped with a positive idolatry, in extenuation of whose gross
fanaticism its intrinsic beauty pleads availingly with the man of
letters and the scholar. The memory of the dead passes into it The
potent traditions of childhood are