n obligations, to
administer the last sacraments to every individual committed to his
care, who has come to the use of reason. What, then, must their lives
have been during the Famine? Not only had they to attend the dying, but
they were expected, and they felt it to be their duty, to be present at
Relief Committees, to wait on officials, write letters, and do
everything they thought could in any manner aid them in saving the lives
of the people. Their starving flocks looked to them for temporal as well
as spiritual help, and, in the Famine, they were continually in crowds
about their dwellings, looking for food and consolation. The priest was
often without food for himself, and had not the heart to meet his people
when he had nothing to give them. An instance of this occurred in a
severely visited parish of the West. The priest one day saw before his
door a crowd--hundreds, he thought--of his parishioners seeking relief.
He had become so prostrate and hopeless at their present sufferings and
future prospects, that, taking his Breviary, he left the house by a
private way, and bent his steps to a neighbouring wood. On reaching it,
he knelt down and began to recite his office aloud, to implore Almighty
God to have mercy on his people and himself. He did not expect to leave
that wood alive. After a time he heard a voice not far off; he became
alarmed, fearing his retreat had been discovered. Strange as the
coincidence seems, it is perfectly true; the voice he heard was that of
a neighbouring priest, a friend of his, who had taken the very same
course, and for the same reason. Gaining strength and consolation from
having met, and giving each other courage, they returned to their homes,
resolving to face the worst.

A physician, an excellent, kind-hearted man, who had been sent on duty
to Bantry in the later stages of the Famine, said one day to a priest
there--"Well, Father----, how are you getting on these times?" "Badly,"
was the reply, "for I often remain late in bed in the morning, not
knowing where to look for my breakfast when I get up."[244]

At this same time, there was a charitable lady in or near Bantry, who
had discovered that another of the priests was not unfrequently
dinnerless; so she insisted on being permitted to send him that
important meal, ready-cooked, at a certain hour every day, begging of
him to be at home, if possible, at the hour fixed. This arrangement went
on for a while to her great satisfactio