their _Shooparier_: and then came two more ladies—‘sisters,’ no doubt, and then another priest. Oh! how my heart would have warmed to them, only they seemed somehow only half way, and at last the _Shooparier_ himself came, and I thought any one could see he was the _rale_ thing; he was the very stamp and moral of Father Joyce, and no cardinal could be more stately—there was a lady, sweet-faced and gentle-looking with him, but when I fell on my knees and asked to speak with him she smiled and went on! “He bid me stand up, and asked what I wanted. “‘To make a clean breast, your reverence, whenever it’s convanient to you, night or day. Your time is mine, holy father, and I would not delay you long, for I’ve kep’ watch over my thoughts and actions; though, for all that, I’m a _grate_ sinner.’ I spoke as _purty_ as ever I could to the kind gentleman; well, he asked me if I wanted to be a _sister_, and I said, No—I’d no inclination for a Nunnery, good or bad; and then, ‘My good girl,’ he says—quite solid-like, ‘what is it you _do_ want?’—and something quare came over me, at the changing of his countenance; and I makes answer, ‘May be your reverence would tell me the time for giving it: and as I like to be prepared and do the thing _dacent_, would your reverence tell me the _charge for absolution_ in this town?’ “Now, aunt, I put it to you, could any thing be purtier, or fairer spoken than that? but his white cheek flushed—he turned on me in anger, only he could not hould a black look for a minute, and he says— “‘Do you take me for one of the blind priests of Rome?’ “‘Indeed I did, sir,’ I made answer, ‘_how could I help it_?’ the words came to my lips quite natural—though my heart was beating with what I can’t tell, to think of his speaking that way of the holy fathers, and he treading as hard as ever he could on their heels—and then the look of pity he threw on me! “‘Poor creature, poor creature,’ he says. ‘You come, I see, of a benighted race.’ Well, I was bothered. He walked gently on, and the very sweep of his coat, from head to tail, had a priestly swing with it; and then he turned back and looked at me so gently. ‘Have you been often here?’ he says. Well, I gave him another courtesy, but not so low as the others. “‘No, sir,’ I answered, (I did not ‘your reverence’ him that time,) ‘and I wont trouble you again.’ “‘You do not trouble me,’ he says. ‘I only wish you trod in our paths.’