The next morning the family were up before the sun, who rubbed his eyes, and swore that he must have overslept himself, on seeing such a merry column of smoke dancing over Phaddhy's chimney. A large wooden dish was placed upon the threshold of the kitchen door, filled with water, in which, with a trencher of oatmeal for soap,* they successively scrubbed their faces and hands to some purpose. In a short time afterwards, Phaddhy and the sons were cased, stiff and awkward, in their new suits, with the tops of their fingers just peeping over the sleeve cuffs. The horses in the stable were turned out to the fields, being obliged to make room for their betters, that were soon expected under the reverend bodies of Father Philemy and his curate; whilst about half a bushel of oats was left in the manger, to regale them on their arrival. Little Richard Maguire was sent down to the five-acres, with the pigs, on purpose to keep them from about the house, they not being supposed fit company at a set-dinner. A roaring turf fire, which blazed two yards up the chimney, had been put down; on this was placed a large pot, filled with water for the tea, because they had no kettle.
* Fact—Oatmeal is in general substituted for soap, by
those who cannot afford to buy the latter.
By this time the morning was tolerably advanced, and the neighbors were beginning to arrive in twos and threes, to wipe out old scores. Katty had sent several of the gorsoons “to see if they could see any sight of the clargy,” but hitherto their Reverences were invisible. At length, after several fruitless embassies of this description, Father Con was seen jogging along on his easygoing hack, engaged in the perusal of his Office, previous to his commencing the duties of the day. As soon as his approach was announced, a chair was immediately placed for him in a room off the kitchen—the parlor, such as it was, having been reserved for Father Phileniy himself, as the place of greater honor. This was an arrangement, however, which went against the grain of Phaddhy, who, had he got his will, would have established Father Con in the most comfortable apartment of the house: but that old vagabond, human nature, is the same under all circumstances—or, as Katty would have (in her own phraseology) expressed it, “still the ould cut;” for even there the influence of rank and elevation was sufficient to throw merit into the shade; and the parlor-seat was allotted to Father Philemy, merely for being Parish Priest, although it was well known that he could not “tare off” * mass in half the time that Father Con could, nor throw a sledge, or shoulder-stone within a perch of him, nor scarcely clear a street-channel, whilst the latter could jump one-and-twenty feet at a running leap. But these are rubs which men of merit must occasionally bear; and, when exposed to them, they must only rest satisfied in the consciousness of their own deserts.
* The people look upon that priest as the best and most
learned who can perform the ceremony of the mass in the
shortest period of time. They call it as above “tareing
off”. The quickest description of mass, however, is the
“hunting mass,” so termed from the speed at which the
priest goes over it—that is, “at the rate of a hunt.”
From the moment that Father Con became visible, the conversation of those who were collected in Phaddhy's dropped gradually, as he approached the house, into a silence which was only broken by an occasional short observation, made by one or two of those who were in habits of the greatest familiarity with the priest; but when they heard the noise of his horse's feet near the door, the silence became general and uninterrupted.
There can scarcely be a greater contrast in anything than that presented by the beginning of a station-day and its close. In the morning, the faces of those who are about to confess present an expression in which terror, awe, guilt, and veneration may be easily traced; but in the evening all is mirth and jollity. Before confession every man's memory is employed in running over the catalogue of crimes, as they are to be found in the prayer-books, under the ten commandments, the seven deadly sins, the Commandments of the Church, the four sins that cry to heaven for vengeance, and the seven sins against the Holy Ghost.
When Father Con arrived, Phaddhy and Katty were instantly at the door to welcome him.
“Musha, cead millia failtha ghud (* A hundred thousand welcomes to you.) to our house, Father Con, avourneen!” says Katty, dropping him a low curtsey, and spreading her new, brown, quilted petticoat as far out on each side of her as it would go—“musha, an' it's you that's welcome from my heart out.”
“I thank you,” said honest Con, who, as he knew not her name, did not pretend to know it.
“Well, Father Con,” said Phaddhy, this is, the first time you have ever come to us this, way; but, plase God, it won't be the last, I hope.”