all, of whom were, however, so painfully absorbed in their own
individual afflictions either of death, or famine, or illness, as to
be able to render them no assistance. Such as had typhus in their own
families were incapable of attending to the wants or distress of others,
and such as had not, acting under the general terror of contagion which
prevailed, avoided the sick houses as they would a plague.

On the morning after old Dalton's removal to prison, Jerry Sullivan
and his family were all assembled around a dull fire, the day being, as
usual, so wet that it was impossible to go out unless upon some matter
of unusual importance; there was little said, for although they had
hitherto escaped the fever, still their sufferings and struggles were
such as banished cheerfulness from among them. Mave appeared more pale
and dejected than they had ever yet seen her, and it was noticed by one
or two of the family, that she had been occasionally weeping in some
remote corner of the house where she thought she might do so without
being observed.

"Mave, dear," said her father, "what is the matter wid you? You look,
darlin', to be in very low spirits to-day. Were you cryin'?"

She raised her large innocent eyes upon him, and they instantly filled
with tears.

"I can't keep it back from you, father," she replied, "let me do as I
will--an' oh, father dear, when we look out upon the world that is in
it, an' when we see how the hand o' God is takin' away so many from
among us, and when we see how the people everywhere is sufferin' and
strugglin' wid so much--how one is here this day, and in a week to come
in the presence of their Judge! Oh, surely, when we see all the doin's
of death and distress about us, we ought to think that it's no time to
harbor hatred or any other bad or unchristian feelin's in our hearts!"

"It is not, indeed, darlin'; an' I hope nobody here does."

"No," she replied; and as she spoke, the vibrations of sorrow and of
sympathy shook her naturally sweet voice into that tender expression
which touches the heart of the hearer with such singular power--"no,
father," she proceeded, "I hope not; religion teaches us a different
lesson--not only to forgive our enemies, but to return good for evil."

"It does, _achora machree_," replied her father, whose eyes expressed a
kind of melancholy pride, as he contemplated his beautiful but sorrowful
looking girl, giving utterance to truths which added an impressive and