larches beginning to form a screen, but still so bare and cold looking. No shadowing sycamore over the porch, no high narrow gable ends with primeval pear-trees climbing up to the blue eaves-in short, as Lady Mary used to lament, like any thing but what a Rectory should be. Such as it was, however, it was fast receding from the sight of those who had just left it, when on turning an angle of the road which commanded a view of the great entrance to Oaklands, Lady Mary exclaimed, "there, there is the spot just by that tuft of broom on the other side of the river, there it is that I shall found my academy-there it is that my bare-legged philosophers shall drink the stream of knowledge, and on the margin of this our Irish Ilyssus, your fair hands, Sophia, shall lay the first st one of the University of Tubberuamurrough.'

"There, Lady Mary! you are not serious, why the river is not fordable for a mile above or below, even in July, and as to scrambling along on the other side between the water and the park-wall, I know not who could effect it, but such a personage as is at present in possession of the proposed area," pointing to a goat which looking down over the shelving bank at his beard as it was reflected in the wave, seemed like another Narcissus smitten with the beauty of his own proportions.

"N'importe," said the lively young lady, "I love difficulties, and you shall see how practicable I shall make my road to learning. Napoleon subdued the Simplon, and I will not be outdone by such as he. This day three months I pronounce, that very schoolhouse shall stand before you on that spot in all the symmetry of lime and stone, crowded with scholars, and as easy of approach, as though it stood upon the Appian way. Yes, and those incredulous eyes shall read carved over the door the motto which your father shall furnish me with, in spite of all that sceptical shaking of his head with which he now meets my glance."

"As for me, Lady Mary," said the Rector, "I am learning a lesson from your school-house, even before it is built, and you shall have the benefit of it now if you desire."

"No Poz-I will have no more lessons to-night. I am determined to retrieve my character in your estimation who think me the most vaccillating of all human beings. And though I do confess, that in selecting the place I had regard to effect, I will make you read the palinode of those odious prejudices, and confess when you see the cleanliness, the order, the improvement which shall prevail there, that it is possible to combine the picturesque with the profitable. But the evening is getting chill; Sophia, my love, Wilmot will drive you and your father home, and I will walk up the avenue, the distance is but a trifle, and one of the gatekeepers shall be my preux chevalier."

Many were the lamentations uttered by the father and daughter on their return upon Lady Mary's volatility and inconstancy of purpose. "She is a warm-hearted, lively creature," said the Rector, "no body's enemy but her own. How much I wish that she were sobered down by the influences of genuine Gospel truth. But

this school-house, we shall never see a stone of it." The good man, however, was mistaken; in the prescribed period an approach was made, the school was built, furnished with master, mistress, scholars, slates and books within, and with clematis and passion trees, and ever-blowing roses without. It looked extremely pretty; it did much good, for Lady Mary was continually inspecting its arrange. ments; and it cost the Earl seven hundred pounds.

"I wonder," said Mr. Seymour to his daughter Sophia about two years afterwards, as they were taking a walk along the banks of the river, "I wonder where your friend, Lady Mary, is at present ?" “I had a letter from her to-day, papa, dated from Geneva, and she was then about penetrating into the Piedmontese territory, to visit the Waldenses; Mr. Gilly's book you know, carried her off, and made her compel her father to forsake the shades of Oaklands for the vallies of the Vaudois." "Alas! poor girl, what an illustration does she afford how much the religion of principle excels the religion of mere feeling. But see, there is the school-house about which she was so anxious, how melancholy it looks-let us just walk round by the bridge and look at it." It was not long till they arrived at the spot. Lady Mary had left the country about fifteen months, and since her departure the place had been entirely closed up, she having lost all interest in the matter--and provided no means for the continuance of the little establishment. The grass had grown luxuriantly along the gravel which surrounded the school-the creepers trailed their unpruned stalks across the esplanade in front, and green mosses were beginning to advance across the surface of the stone slab which surmounted the entrance door"what a speaking lesson," said the Rector as he turned his eyes to the inscription, which, at his suggestion, Lady Mary had engraven on the little tablet, and Sophia's blue eyes filled fast with tears as they perused the word, for there was but one-" PERSeverance."

SKETCHES OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY.-No. 2.

THE STATION.

(Continued from Page 60)

Wherever a station occurs in Ireland, a crowd of mendicants and other strolling impostors never fail to attend it; on this occasion at least they did not. The day, though frosty, was fine; and the door was surrounded by a train of this description, including both sexes, some sitting on stools, some on stones, with their blankets rolled up under them; and others more ostensibly. devout, on their knees, hard at prayer; which, lest their piety might escape notice, our readers may be assured, they did not offer up in silence. On one side you might observe a sturdy fellow, with a pair of tattered urchins secured to his back by a sheet or blanket pinned across his breast with a long iron

VOL. VIII.

2 M

skewer their heads just visible at his shoulders, they munching a thick piece of wheaten bread, and the father on his knees, with a huge wooden cross in his hand, repeating his paters, and occasionally throwing a jolly eye towards the door, or, through the window opposite which he knelt, into the kitchen, as often as any peculiar stir or commotion led him to suppose that breakfast, the loadstar of his devotion, was about to be produced. Scattered about the door were knots of these, men and women, occasionally chatting together; and when the subject of their conversation happened to be exhausted, resuming their beads until some new topic would occur; and so on alternately. The interior of the kitchen where the neighbours were assembled, presented an appearance somewhat more decorous. Andy Lawlor, the mass-server, in whom the Priest had the greatest confidence, stood in a corner examining in their catechism those who intended to confess; and if they were able to stand the test, he gave them a bit of twisted brown paper as a ticket, and they were received at the tribunal.

The first question the priest uniformly puts to the penitent is, "Can you repeat the Confiteor ?" If the latter answer in the affirmative, he goes on until he comes to the words, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, when he stops, it being improper to repeat the remainder until after he has confessed; but if he is ignorant of the Confiteor, the priest repeats it for him, and he commences the rehearsal of his offences specifically as they occurred; and not only does he reveal his individual crimes, but his very thoughts and intentions. By this wily regulation our readers may easily perceive, that the penitent is completely at the mercy of the Priest-that all family feuds, quarrels, and secrets, are laid open to his eye-that the ruling passions of men's lives are held up before him, and all the weaknesses and propensities of a corrupt nature-all the unguarded parts of the human heart and character brought within his positive knowledge; and that too as they exist in the young and the old, the married and the single, the male and the female. It has been often wondered at why there is, and has been, such a deplorable prostration of reason and moral independence before the Priesthood of the Church of Rome, in the persons of their followers; but let me ask, would it not be a greater anomaly were it otherwise? How is it possible for any individual who throws open the secret corruptions and failings of his heart before the eye of a priest-who puts him in possession of all the crimes and delinquencies of his life, to stand in the confidence of a manly and erect independence before him? Is it possible that he should be able to look him in the face, or bear the force of his glance? Under these circumstances, without at all considering the influence produced by the spiritual power with which Roman Catholics believe the Priests to be invested, let us not think it strange that such a melancholy debasement characterizes the layity of the Romish Church.

It was curious to remark the ludicrous expression of temporary sanctity which was apparent on the countenances of many young

men and maidens who were remarkable in the neighbourhood for attending dances and wakes, but who, on the present occasion, were sobered down to a gravity which sat very awkwardly upon them; particularly in the eyes of those who knew the lightness and gaiety of their characters. This, however, was observable only before confession; for as soon as "the priest's blessed hand had been over them," their gloom and anxiety passed away, and the thoughtless buoyancy of their natural disposition resumed its influence over their minds. A good-humoured nod, or a sly wink from a young man to his female acquaintance, would now be indulged in; or perhaps a small joke would escape, which seldom failed to produce a subdued laugh from such as had confessed, or an impatient rebuke from those who had not. "Tim," one would exclaim, "ar'n't ye ashamed or afeard to get an that-a-way, an' his Reverence und her the wan roof wid ye? "Tim, you had betther drop your jokin':" a second would observe, "an' not be puttin' us through other, wherein we have our offinces to remimber; you have got your job over, an' now you have nothing to trouble you." Indeed its fine behaviour," a third would say, an' you afther comin' from the Priest's knee, an' what is more, didn't recave yet: bud wait till Father Con appears, an' I'll warrant you'll be as grave as another, for all you're so stout now." The conversation would then pass to the merits of Father Philemy, and Father Con, as confessors; "Well," one would observe," for my part I'd rather go to Father Philemy fifty times over, than wanst to Father Con, bekase he never axes questins, bud whatever you like to tell 'im he hears id, an' forgives you at wanst." "An' so sign's an id," observed another, "he could confess more in a day nor Father Con could in a week." Bud for all that," observed Andy Lawlor, 'ids still best to go to the man that puts the questing, an' that wont let the turnin' of a straw escape 'im; whin myself goes to Father Philemy, somehow or other, I totally disremimber more nor wan half of what I intinded to tell 'im, but Father Con misses nothing." When the last observation was finished, Father Con, finding that the usual hour for breakfast had arrived, came into the kitchen to prepare for the celebration of Mass. For this purpose a table was cleared, and just in the nick of time arrived old Molly Brian, the vestment woman, or itinerant sacristan, whose usual occupation was to carry the Priest's robes and other apparatus from station to station. In a short time Father Con was surpliced and robed; Andy Lawlor, whose face was charged with commensurate importance during the ceremony, sarved Mass, and answered the Priest stoutly in Latin, although he had not the advantage of understanding that sacerdotal language. Those who had confessed, now communicated; after which each of them took a draught of water out of a small jug, which was handed round from one to another. The ceremony then closed, and those who had partaken of the sacrament, with the exception of such as were detained for breakfast, after filling their little bottles with holy water, went home with a light heart. A little before the

Mass had been finished, Father Philemy arrived, but as Phaddhy and Katty were then preparing to receive, they could not at that moment, give him a formal reception. As soon, however, as communion was over, the kead milliah failtah was repeated with the usual warmth by both, and all their immediate friends. The breakfast was now laid in Katty's best style, and with an originality of arrangement that scorned all precedent. Two tables were placed one after another in the kitchen; for the other rooms were not sufficiently large to accommodate the company. Father Philemy filled the seat of honour at the head of the table, with his back to an immense fire. On his right hand sat Father Con, on his left Phaddhy himself, "to keep the Clargy in company;" and in due succession after them, their friends and neighbours, each taking precedence according to the most scrupulous notions of respectability. Beside Father Con sat "Pether Malone," a young Collegian," who had been sent home from Maynooth to try his native air for the recovery of his health, which was declining. He arrived only a few minutes after Father Philemy, and was a welcome reinforcement to Phaddhy in the arduous task of sustaining the conversation with suitable credit. With respect to the breakfast, I can only say that it was superabundant-that the tea was as black as bog water—that there were hen, turkey, and goose eggs-plates of toast soaked, crust and crum, in butter-and lest there might be a deficiency, one of the daughters sat on a stool at the fire, with her open hand by way of a fire-screen across her red, half-scorched brows, toasting another plateful; and to crown all, on each corner of the table was a bottle of whiskey. At the lower board sat the youngsters, under the surveillance of Katty's sister, who presided in that quarter. When they were commencing breakfast, "Father Philemy," said Katty, "wont yer Reverence bless the mate if ye plaze?" "If I don't do it myself," said Father Philemy, who was just after sweeping the top off a turkey egg, "I'll get it done." 66 Come," said he to the Collegian, give us grace, Peter, you'll never learn younger." This, however, was an unexpected blow to Peter, who knew that an English grace would be incompatible with his "college breeding," yet was unprovided with any in Latin. The eyes of the company were now fixed upon him, and he blushed like scarlet on finding himself in a predicament so awkward and embarrassing. "Aliquid, Petre, aliquid; de profundis-si habes nihil aliud," said Father Philemy, feeling for his embarrasment, and giving him a hint. This was not lost, for Peter began, and gave them the De profundis, a Latin psalm which Roman Catholics repeat for the relief of the souls in purgatory. They forgot, however, that there was a person in company who conceived himself as having an equal claim to the repetition of at least the onee-half of it; and accordingly, when Peter got up and repeated the first verse, Andy Lawlor got also on his legs and repeated the response:* this

This prayer is generally repeated by two persons.