road joined that which we have mentioned, within a few perches of it,
so that it stood at what might be nearly considered a cross-road. One
or two large trees grew beside it, which gave to its otherwise simple
appearance something of picturesque effect, especially during the
summer months, when they were thickly covered with leaves, and waved and
rustled in the sun to the refreshing breezes of that delightful season.

It was Sunday in the early part of March--we will not name the
year--when our story commences. The Red Ridge Chapel was as usual
surrounded by the greater portion of the congregation that had assembled
to hear Mass. Within its walls there were only a few classes of
youngsters, male and female, formed into circles, learning their
catechism from the schoolmaster of the neighborhood, the clerk, or some
devotee who possessed education enough to qualify himself for that
kind office. Here and there in different parts of the chapel were
small groups of adult persons, more religiously disposed than the rest,
engaged in saying the rosary, whilst several others were performing
solitary devotions, some stationary in a corner of the chapel, and
others going the circuit around its walls in the performance of the
Fourteen Stations of the Cross. Now, all these religious and devotional
acts take place previous to the arrival of the priest, and are suspended
the moment he commences Mass; into the more sublime majesty of which
they appear, as it were, to lose themselves and be absorbed.

The great body of the congregation, however, until the clergyman makes
his appearance, are to be found outside, on what is called the Chapel
Green. Here they stand in groups, engaged in discussing the topics of
the day, or such local intelligence as may interest them; and it is
to one of those groups that we now beg to call the attention of our
readers.