The  friend  above  quoted  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Dunboe
Rectory ;  in  fact  it  was  ever  open  to  him  as  a  boy,  and  the
closest  ties  afterwards  bound  him  to  it.  He  thus  describes  it ;
"  The  parish  of  Dunboe,  on  the  northern  coast  of  Ireland,
is  wild  and  bleak,  extending  over  a  large  tract  of  country,
bounded  on  one  side  by  the  sea.  The  parsonage  was  its
one  bright  spot,  nestling  in  trees  which  sheltered  it  in  some
measure  from  the  fierce  winds.  It  looked  on  one  side
towards  the  sea,  across  which  in  clear  weather  the  western
islands  of  Scotland  were  visible.  About  the  parsonage  itself
there  was  a  charm,  difficult  to  describe  in  words.  More
than  any  house  I  know,  it  was  the  abode  of  family  love,
intellectual  cultivation,  and  innocent  mirth,  combined  with
simple  piety  and  real  devoutness.  It  was  full  of  whatever
could  make  a  home  attractive,  so  as  to  cast  a  spell  upon  all


io  Harriet  O'Briens

who  were  drawn  within  its  circle.  It  was  plainly  but  com
fortably  furnished  throughout,  a  very  model  of  unosten
tatious  comfort  and  order.  As  to  its  personnel,  the  Arch
deacon  was  a  churchman  of  the  old  school,  whose  character
and  opinions  had  been  formed  before  the  Church  move
ment  began ;  a  staunch  adherent  of  the  Prayer  Book  and
rubrics.  When  the  'Tracts  for  the  Times'  appeared,  he
thought  it  his  duty  to  take  a  strong  line  against  them,  while
the  younger  members  of  the  family  on  the  contrary  re
garded  them  favourably.  He  was  a  most  courteous  gentle
man,  of  vigorous  understanding,  and  had  considerable  weight
among  the  clergy,  not  only  of  his  own  diocese,  but  of  Ire
land  generally.
