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."

"I hope not, Phaddhy," said Father Con, who, notwithstanding his
simplicity of character, loved a good dinner in the very core of his
heart, "I hope not, indeed, Phaddhy." He then threw his eye about
the premises, to see what point he might set his temper to during the
remainder of the day; for it is right to inform our readers that a