To-day I flung down my book in downright deficiency of comprehension to understand a word in it, though it was a simple case in the Reports of -------; and so, in the most _nonchalante_ mood possible, I mounted my _rosinante_, and throwing the bridle over her neck, said, “please thyself;” and it was her pious pleasure to tread on consecrated ground: in short, after a ride of half an hour, I found myself within a few paces of the parish mass-house, and recollected that it was the Sabbath day; so that you see my mare reproved me, though in an oblique manner, with little less gravity than the ass of Balaam did his obstinate rider. The mass-house was of the same order of architecture as the generality of Irish cabins, with no other visible mark to ascertain its sacred designation than a stone cross, roughly hewn, over its entrance. I will not say that it was merely a sentiment of piety which induced me to enter it; but it certainly required, at first, an effort of energy to obtain admittance, as for several yards round this simple tabernacle a crowd of _devotees_ were prostrated on the earth, praying over their beads with as much fervour as though they were offering up their orisins in the golden-roofed temple of Soliman. When I had fastened my horse’s bridle to a branch of a hawthorn, I endeavoured to make my way through the pious crowd, who all arose the moment I appeared--for the _last mass_, I learned, was over, and those who had prayed _par hazard_, without hearing a word the priest said within, departed. While I pressed my way into the body of the chapel, it was so crowded that with great difficulty I found means to fix myself by a large triangular stone vessel filled with holy water, where I fortunately remained (during the sermon) unnoticed.