At one of the cabins along the road they were making great
preparations, which we understood from having seen the same thing in
Lisdara. There are wee villages and solitary cabins so far from
chapel that the priests establish 'stations' for confession. A
certain house is selected, and all the old, infirm, and feeble ones
come there to confess and hear Mass. The priest afterwards eats
breakfast with the family; and there is great pride in this
function, and great rivalry in the humble arrangements. Mrs.
Odevaine often lends a linen cloth and flowers to one of her
neighbours, she tells us; to another a knife and fork, or a silver
teapot; and so on. This cabin was at the foot of a long hill, and
the driver gave me permission to walk; so Francesca and I slipped
down, I with a parcel which chanced to have in it some small
purchases made at the last hotel. We asked if we might help a bit,
and give a little teapot of Belleek ware and a linen doily trimmed
with Irish lace. Both the articles were trumpery bits of souvenirs,
but the old dame was inclined to think that the angels and saints
had taken her in charge, and nothing could exceed her gratitude.
She offered us a potato from the pot, a cup of tea or goat's milk,
and a bunch of wildflowers from a cracked cup; and this last we
accepted as we departed in a shower of blessings, the most
interesting of them being, "May the Blessed Virgin twine your brow
with roses when ye sit in the sates of glory!" and "The Lord be good
to ye, and sind ye a duke for a husband!" We felt more than repaid
for our impulsive interest, and as we disappeared from sight a last
'Bannact dea leat!' ('God's blessing be on your way!') was wafted to
our ears.
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