The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
General
The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
But notwithstanding all this, I noticed, through the gloom of the place,
many who were actuated by genuine, unaffected piety, from whom charity
and kindness beamed forth through all the disadvantages around them.
Such people, for the most part, prayed in silence and alone. Whenever
I saw a man or woman anxious to turn away their faces, and separate
themselves from the flocks of gregarious babblers, I seldom failed to
witness the outpouring of a contrite spirit. I have certainly seen, in
several instances, the tear of heartfelt repentance bedew the sinner's
cheek. I observed one peculiarly interesting female who struck me
very much. In personal beauty she was very lovely--her form perfectly
symmetrical, and she evidently belonged to rather a better order of
society. Her dress was plain, though her garments were by no means
common. She could scarcely be twenty, and yet her face told a tale of
sorrow, of deep, wasting, desolating sorrow. As the prayers, hymns, and
religious conversations which wont on, were peculiar to the place, time,
and occasion--it being near the hour of rest:--she probably did not
feel that reluctance in going to pray in presence of so many which she
otherwise would have felt. She kept her eye on a certain female who had
a remote dusky corner to pray in, and the moment she retired from it,
this young creature went up and there knelt down. But what a contrast to
the calm, unconscious, and insipid mummery which went on at the moment
through the whole room! Her prayer was short, and she had neither book
nor beads; but the heavings of her bosom, and her suppressed sobs,
sufficiently proclaimed her sincerity. Her petition, indeed, seemed to
go to heaven from a broken heart. When it was finished, she remained a
few moments on her knees, and dried her eyes with her handkerchief. As
she rose up, I could mark the modest, timid glance, and the slight
blush as she presented herself again amongst the company, where all were
strangers. I thought she appeared, though in the midst of such a number,
to be woefully and pitiably alone.
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