certainly, however, give the best proof of their
sincerity by drinking it in large quantities, and
sometimes almost scalding out of the kettle.
About seven o'clock, then, our Stationer goes
into " Prison," that is, into the Chapel,
as substitute for the now obliterated
purgatorial cave; to stay without food or sleep
until the same hour on the following evening.
He is not, however, obliged absolutely to
remain within the doors of the Chapel during
the whole of the time, but has liberty to pass
in and out, under certain restrictions.

In the Chapel, the men are gathered on one
side, the women on the other,—some of them
on a bench that runs round the wall, some on
the altar-steps, but most on the ground, seated
or kneeling. When the shades of evening
have deepened, a few candles are lighted here
and there, throwing faint glimmerings over
the confused groups,—the women in blue
cloaks or red shawls, drawn over the heads of
many of the wearers; some conversing in
whispers, some groaning and rocking them-
selves; some in corners telling their beads
with ceaseless perseverance; the men, with
coloured handkerchiefs or nightcaps on their
heads, and all barefoot (as are the women,
too, though less obviously), occupied in a
somewhat similar manner; varied, occasionally,
by the singing of a hymn, to which a pilgrim
plays a tremulous accompaniment on the flute.

About midnight, some one well acquainted
with the ritual, and who not unproudly
assumes the office of temporary leader,
commences the Rosary aloud, and is followed by
all present; the responses being audibly
repeated by them in the proper places. They
are now performing one Station of the prison-
day, with the same prayers as are used on the
other days in performing the Stations out of
doors; and to mark their progress the more
plainly, the leader calls out at intervals from
his place on the altar-steps, " Now the Bed on
the top of the hill;" "Now the Big Bed;"
"Now the Stone; " and so on, assigning the
proper prayers to each stage of the imaginary
perambulation.

Three Stations have thus to be gone through
occupying, perhaps, from four to five hours;
at the end of which time the candles have
burnt and guttered away, and the new
daylight looks in through the Chapel windows on
a hot, sleepy, and most uncomfortable crowd;
some of whom begin to stretch their cramped
limbs and seek the refreshment of open air,
even at the risk of an increased appetite,—
under the circumstances a most undesirable
acquirement; for the consumption of as much
as a crumb of bread would cause them to
"lose the benefit of their Station,"—a
possibility which is always hanging in terror
before the mind's eyes of the pilgrims. With
bumpers of wine, however, they are permitted
to regale themselves unrestrictedly.

In the course of this day the Prisoner is
examined by a priest on the leading points
of his creed, and if his answers be satisfactory,
he is inducted into the Confessional by means
of a ticket, for which the Prior receives
tenpence, and which the holder may present to
any of the four priests on the island. This
sum, and that paid at the ferry, are the only
charges incurred by the pilgrim, in addition
to those for his board and lodging.

On Wednesday evening (having gone into
prison on Tuesday evening) he is present at
evening prayers, though whether in a state of
very vigilant attention may be doubted; after
which he is released; and returning to his
lodging-house, refreshes his exhausted frame
with the stated allowance of bread, oaten or
white, and the usual unlimited flow of wine.
In a great many cases, however, tea is
permitted. His next step, it can scarcely be
doubted, is to bed; where he sleeps soundly
till roused at four on Wednesday morning to
renew his acquaintance with the less luxurious
Beds outside. The rain, perhaps, is battering
fiercely at his window. No help he must
brave it; and as he casts a shuddering look
out into the dim, miserable morning, he sees
a string of drenched figures already crouching
along the prescribed course, tracing their
"rough road returning in a round," who have
probably been so engaged during the greater
part of the night; for pilgrims commence
their penances when they choose, and all the
various stages are going on in the Island
simultaneously.

This third day, Thursday, the Stationer
"receives " (the Communion), makes three
Stations, and attends evening Prayers;
immediately after which his penance is at an
end. He may be supposed to eat a hearty
meal (the first since Monday), and either quits
the Island that evening, or remains until the
following morning.

There are some, however, who accomplish
six days' penance, and a few nine days'; when
every ceremony I have described is performed
—in the first case twice, in the second thrice.
I was told of a woman who attends for nine
days regularly every season. In most in-
stances, it is said, there is a perceptible
improvement, on their return home, in the
conduct of those who have made a pilgrimage;
but it is admitted at the same time that the
effect with the great majority is transient; its
term of duration being very uncertain.

Whilst we were at tea in the lodging-house,
pilgrims were constantly swarming in and
out, like bees in a hive; one asking another
if he were " in Prison," or " going out " (i, e.,
of the Island); or what Station he was in;
or mentioning that he had just made his third
in fifty-one minutes (implying, by the way,
the possession of a watch); in all the motley
crowd, however—there and elsewhere—every
one appeared to me to behave with great
seemliness and consistency.

About six o'clock in the evening, we went
to the Chapel, and heard the Prior preach.
His sermon was an excessively strange one to
unaccustomed ears; for he addressed his