ou think, an' we'll
keep one another warm enough wid-out it, never fear."

"Troth you do want it," said Sullivan; "for fareer gair, it's the light
coverin' that's over you an' them, poor boys. Heighho, Dan, see what
innocence is--poor things, they're sound already--an' may God pity them
an' provide for them, or enable me to do it!" And as he looked down upon
the sleeping lads, the tears came so abundantly to his eyes, that he was
forced to wipe them away. "Keep the coat, Dan," he added; "you do want
it."

"No," replied the other. "The truth is, I couldn't sleep under it. I'm
very timersome, an' a little thing frightens me."

"Oh," said Sullivan, "I didn't think of that: in troth, if you're
timersome, it's more than the world b'lieves of you. Well, well--I'll
hang it up again; so good night, an' a sound sleep to you, an' to every
man that has a free conscience in the sight of God!"

No response was given to this prayer, and his words were followed by a
deep and solemn silence, that was only broken occasionally by the heavy
pattering of the descending rain, and the fitful gusts of the blast, as
they rushed against the house, and sung wildly among the few trees by
which it and the garden were enclosed.

Every one knows that a night of wind and storm, if not rising actually
to a tempest or hurricane, is precisely that on which sleep is with
its deepest influence upon men. Sullivan's family, on that which we are
describing, were a proof of this; at least until about the hour of
three o'clock, when they were startled by a cry for help, so loud and
frightful, that in a moment he and the boys huddled on their dress, and
hurried to the bed in which the prophet lay. In a minute or two they
got a candle lit; and truly the appearance of the man was calculated to
drive fear and alarm into their hearts. They found him sitting in the
bed, with his eyes so wild and staring that they seemed straining out
of their sockets. His hair was erect, and his mouth half open, and drawn
back; while the perspiration poured from him in torrents. His hands
were spread, and held up, with their palms outwards, as if in the act of
pushing something back that seemed to approach him. "Help," he shouted,
"he is comin' on me--he will have me powerless in a minute. He is
gaspin' now, as he--Stay back, stay back--here--here, help; it's the
murdhered man--he's upon me. Oh!--Oh, God! he's comin' nearer and
nearer. Help me--save me!"

Sullivan on holding