is dreams feverish and frightful.

Precisely at this period, before Mrs. Lindsay had recovered from her
indisposition, and could pay her intended visit to the Goodwins, a
circumstance occurred which suggested to Harry Woodward one of the most
remorseless and Satanic schemes that ever was concocted in the heart of
man. He was in the habit occasionally of going down to the kitchen to
indulge in a smoke and a piece of banter with the servants. One evening,
whilst thus amusing himself, the conversation turned upon the prevailing
superstitions of the day. Ghosts, witches, wizards; astrologers,
fairies, leprechauns, and all that could be termed supernatural, or even
related to or aided by it, were discussed at considerable length,
and with every variety of feeling. Amongst the rest the Banshee was
mentioned--a spirit of whose peculiar office and character Woodward,
in consequence of his long absence from the country, was completely
ignorant.

"The Banshee!" he exclaimed; "what kind of a spirit is that? I have
never heard of it."

"Why, sir," replied Barney, who was present, "the Banshee--the Lord
prevent us from hearin' her--is always the forerunner of death. She
attends only certain families--principally the ould Milesians, and
mostly Catholics, too; although, I believe, it's well known that she
sometimes attends Protestants whose families have been Catholics or
Milesians, until the last of the name disappears. So that, afther all,
it seems she's not over-scrupulous about religion."

"But what do you mean by attending families?" asked Woodward; "what
description of attendance or service does she render them?"

"Indeed, Mr. Harry," replied Barney, "anything but an agreeable
attendance. By goxty, I believe every family she follows would be very
glad to dispense with her attendance if they could."

"But that is not answering my question, Casey."

"Why, sir," proceeded Barney, "I'll answer it. Whenever the family that
she follows is about to have a death in it, she comes a little time
before the death tikes place, sits either undher the windy of the sick
bed or somewhere near the house, and wails and cries there as if her
very heart would break. They say she generally names the name of the
party that is to die; but there is no case known of the sick person ever
recoverin' afther she has given the warnin' of death."

"It is a strange and wild superstition," observed Woodward.

"But a very true one, sir," replied the coo