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
This employment stirred my blood a little, and I got much lighter. I
could now pay some attention to the scene about me, and the first object
that engaged it was a fellow with a hare-lip, who had completely taken
the lead at prayer. The organs of speech seemed to have been transferred
from his mouth to his nose, and, although Irish was his vernacular
language, either some fool or knave had taught him to say his prayers in
English: and you may take this as an observation founded on fact,
that the language which a Roman Catholic of the lower class does not
understand, is the one in which it is disposed to pray. As for him he
had lots of English prayers, though he was totally ignorant of that
language. The twang from the nose, the loud and rapid tone in which he
spoke, and the malaproprian happiness with which he travestied every
prayer he uttered, would have compelled any man to smile. The priests
laughed outright before the whole congregation, particularly one of
them, whom I well knew; the other turned his face towards the altar, and
leaning over a silver pix, in which, according to their own tenets, the
Redeemer of the world must have been at that moment, as it contained
the consecrated wafers, gave full vent to his risibility. Now it is
remarkable that no one present attached the slightest impropriety to
this--I for one did not; although it certainly occurred to me with full
force at a subsequent period.
When morning came, the blessed light of the sun broke the leaden charm
of the prison, and infused into us a wonderful portion of fresh vigor.
This day being the second from our arrival, we had our second station to
perform, and consequently all the sharp spikes to re-traverse. We were
not permitted at all to taste food during these twenty-four hours, so
that our weakness was really very great. I beg leave, however, to return
my special acknowledgments for the truly hospitable allowance of wine
with which I, in common with every other pilgrim, was treated. This
wine is made by filling a large pot with the lake water, and making it
lukewarm. It is then handed round in jugs and wooden noggins--to their
credit be it recorded--in the greatest possible abundance. On this alone
I breakfasted, dined, and supped, during the second or prison day of my
pilgrimage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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