When the “giving out” of the stations was over, and a few more jests were broken by his Reverence, to which the congregation paid the tribute of a general and uproarious laugh, he turned round, and resumed the performance of the mass, whilst his “flock” began to finger their beads with faces as grave as if nothing of the kind had occurred.  When mass was finished, and the holy water sprinkled upon the people, out of a tub carried by the mass-server through the chapel for that purpose, the priest gave them a Latin benediction, and they dispersed.

Now, of the five individuals in whose houses the “stations” were appointed to be held, we will select Phaddhy Sheemus Phaddhy for our purpose; and this we do, because it was the first time in which a station was ever kept in his house, and consequently Phaddhy and his wife had to undergo the initiatory ceremony of entertaining Father Philemy and his curate, the Reverend Con M’Coul, at dinner.

Phaddhy Sheemus Phaddhy had been, until a short time before the period in question, a very poor man; but a little previous to that event, a brother of his, who had no children, died very rich—­that is, for a farmer—­and left him his property, or, at least, the greater part of it.  While Phaddhy was poor, it was surprising what little notice he excited from his Reverence; in fact, I have heard him acknowledge, that during all the days of his poverty, he never got a nod of recognition or kindness from Father Philemy, although he sometimes did, he said, from Father Con, his curate, who honored him on two occasions so far as to challenge him to a bout at throwing the shoulder-stone, and once to a leaping match, at both of which exercises Father Con, but for the superior power of Phaddhy, had been unrivalled.

“It was an unlucky day to him,” says Phaddy, “that he went to challenge me, at all at all; for I was the only man that ever bate him, and he wasn’t able to hould up his head in the parish for many a day afther.”

As soon, however, as Phaddhy became a man of substance, one would almost think that there had been a secret relationship between his good fortune and Father Philemy’s memory; for, on their first meeting, after Phaddhy’s getting the property, the latter shook him most cordially by the hand—­a proof that, had not his recollection been as much improved as Phaddhy’s circumstances, he could by no means have remembered him; but this is a failing in the memory of many, as well as in that of Father Philemy.  Phaddhy, however, was no Donnell, to use his own expression, and saw as far into a deal board as another man.

“And so, Phaddy,” said the priest, “how are all your family?—­six you have, I think?”

“Four, your Rev’rence, only four,” said Phaddy, winking at Tim Dillon, his neighbor, who happened to be present—­“three boys an’ one girl.”

“Bless my soul, and so it is indeed, Phaddy, and I ought to know it; an how is your wife Sarah?—­I mean, I hope Mrs. Sheemus Phaddhy is well:  by the by, is that old complaint of hers gone yet?—­a pain in the stomach, I think it was, that used to trouble her; I hope in God, Phaddhy, she’s getting over it, poor thing.  Indeed, I remember telling her, last Easter, when she came to her duty, to eat oaten bread and butter with water-grass every morning fasting, it cured myself of the same complaint.”