ed a Roman Catholic
chapel.

** Mick was also a schoolmaster, and the most celebrated
village politician of his day. Every Sunday found him
engaged as in the text.

At the extremity of this little circle was a plain altar of wood,
covered with a little thatched shed, under which the priest celebrated
mass; but before the performance of this ceremony, a large multitude
usually assembled opposite Ned's shop-door, at the cross-roads. This
crowd consisted of such as wanted to buy tobacco, candles, soap, potash,
and such other groceries as the peasantry remote from market-towns
require. After mass, the public-house was filled to the door-posts, with
those who wished to get a sample of Nancy's _Iska-behagh_* and many
a time has little Father Ned himself, of a frosty day, after having
performed mass with a celerity highly agreeable to his auditory, come in
to Nancy, nearly frost-bitten, to get his breakfast, and a toothful of
mountain dew to drive the cold out of his stomach.

_Usquebaugh_--literally, "water of life."

The fact is, that Father Deleery made himself quite at home at Ned's
without any reference to Nancy's saving habits; the consequence was,
that her welcome to him was extremely sincere--"from the teeth out."
Father Ned saw perfectly through her assumed heartiness of manner, but
acted as if the contrary was the case; Nancy understood him also, and
with an intention of making up by complaisance for their niggardliness
in other respects, was a perfect honeycomb. This state of
cross-purposes, however, could not last long; neither did it. Father Ned
never paid, and Nancy never gave credit; so, at length, they came to an
open rupture; she threatened to process him for what he owed her, and
he, in return, threatened to remove the congregation from "The Forth"
to Ballymagowan bridge, where he intended to set up his nephew in the
"public line," to the ruin of Nancy's flourishing establishment.

"Father Ned," said Nancy, "I'm a hardworking, honest woman, and I don't
see why my substance is to be wasted by your Reverence when you won't
pay for it."

"And do you forget," Father Ned would reply, "that it's me that
brings you your custom? Don't you know that if I remove my flock to
Ballymagowan, you'll soon sing to another tune? so lay that to your
heart."

"Troth, I know that whatever I get I'm obliged to pay for it; and I
think every man should do the same, Father Ned. You must get a hank of