It did my heart good when I saw your honour ride in at the head of all those fine fellows, real Protestants, I'll engage, not a Papist among them, they are too good-looking and honest- looking for that.

So I no sooner saw your honour at the head of your army, with that handsome young gentleman holding by your stirrup, than I said to my wife, Mistress Hyne, who is from Londonderry, "God bless me," said I, "what a truly Protestant countenance, what a noble bearing, and what a sweet young gentleman.

By the silver hairs of his honour"-- and sure enough I never saw hairs more regally silver than those of your honour--"by his honour's gray silver hairs, and by my own soul, which is not worthy to be mentioned in the same day with one of them--it would be no more than decent and civil to run out and welcome such a father and son coming in at the head of such a Protestant military." And then my wife, who is from Londonderry, Mistress Hyne, looking me in the face like a fairy as she is, "You may say that," says she.

"It would be but decent and civil, honey." And your honour knows how I ran out of my own door and welcomed your honour riding in company with your son, who was walking; how I welcomed ye both at the head of your royal regiment, and how I shook your honour by the hand, saying, I am glad to see your honour, and your honour's son, and your honour's royal military Protestant regiment.

And now I have you in the house, and right proud I am to have ye one and all; one, two, three, four, true Protestants every one, no Papists here; and I have made bold to bring up a bottle of claret which is now waiting behind the door; and, when your honour and your family have dined, I will make bold too to bring up Mistress Hyne, from Londonderry, to introduce to your honour's lady, and then we'll drink to the health of King George, God bless him; to the "glorious and immortal"-- to Boyne water--to your honour's speedy promotion to be Lord Lieutenant, and to the speedy downfall of the Pope and Saint Anthony of Padua.' Such was the speech of the Irish Protestant addressed to my father in the long lofty dining-room with three windows, looking upon the high street of the good town of Clonmel, as he sat at meat with his family, after saying grace like a true-hearted respectable soldier as he was.
'A bigot and an Orangeman!' Oh yes! It is easier to apply epithets of opprobrium to people than to make yourself acquainted with their history and position.