THE STATION.


Our readers are to suppose the Reverend Philemy M'Guirk, parish priest
of Tir-neer, to be standing upon the altar of the chapel, facing the
congregation, after having gone through the canon of the Mass; and
having nothing more of the service to perform, than the usual prayers
with which he closes the ceremony.

"Take notice, that the Stations for the following week will be held as
follows:--

"_On Monday, in Jack Gallagher's of Corraghnamoddagh_. Are you there,
Jack?"

"To the fore, yer Reverence."

"Why, then, Jack, there's something ominous--something auspicious--to
happen, or we wouldn't have you here; for it's very seldom that you
make part or parcel of this _present_ congregation; seldom are you here,
Jack, it must be confessed: however, you know the old classical proverb,
or if you don't, I do, which will just answer as well--_Non semper ridet
Apollo_--it's not every day _Manus_ kills a bullock; so, as you are
here, be prepared for us on Monday."

"Never fear, yer Reverence, never fear; I think you ought to know that
the grazin' at Corraghnamoddagh's not bad."