self about, tore his hair, and
displayed every symptom of a man in a paroxysm of madness. But among
those present, with the exception of the mother and son, there was not
such a picture of distress and sorrow, as the wife of the Dead Boxer.
She stooped down to raise the stranger up; "Unhappy man," said she,
"look up, I am your sister!"

"No," said Nell, "no--no--no. There's more of my guilt. Lamh Laudher
More, I stand forrid, you and your wife. You lost a daughter long ago.
Open your arms and take her back a blameless woman. She's your child
that I robbed you of as one punishment; the other blow that I intended
for you has been struck here. I'm dyin'."

A long cry of joy burst from the mother and daughter, as they rushed
into each other's arms. Nature, always strongest in pure minds, even
before this denouement, had, indeed, rekindled the mysterious flame of
her own affection in their hearts. The father pressed her to his bosom,
and forgot the terrors of the sound before him, whilst the son embraced
her with a secret consciousness that she was, indeed, his long-lost
sister.

"We couldn't account," said her parents, "for the way we loved you
the day we met you before the magistrate; every word you said, Alice
darling, went into our hearts wid delight, an' we could hardly ever
think of your voice ever since, that the tears didn't spring to our
eyes. But we never suspected, as how could we, that you were our child."

She declared that she felt the same mysterious attachment to them, and
to her brother also, from the moment she heard the tones of his voice on
the night the robbery was attempted.

"Nor could I," said Lamh Laudher Oge, "account for the manner I loved
you."

Their attention was now directed to Nell, who again spoke.

"Nanse, give her back the money I robbed her of. There was more of my
villainy, but God fought against me, an'--here--. You will find, it
along with her marriage certificate, an' the gospel she had about her
neck, when I kidnapped her, all in my pocket. Where's my son? Still,
still, bad as I am, an' bad as he is, isn't he my child? Amn't I his
mother? put his hand in mine, and let me die as a mother 'ud wish!"

Never could there be a more striking contrast witnessed than that
between the groups then present; nor a more impressive exemplification
of the interposition of Providence to reward the virtuous and punish the
guilty even in this life.

"Lamh Laudher More," said she, "I once atte