e up the felicity of domestic life. The night was
stormy, and the wind moaned and howled along the dark hills beneath
which the cottage stood. Every object in the house was shrouded in a
mellow shade, which afforded to the eye no clear outline, except around
the hearth alone, where the light brightened into a golden hue, giving
the idea of calmness and peace. Anthony Meehan sat on one side of it,
and his daughter opposite him, knitting: before the fire sat Denis,
drawing shapes in the ashes for his own amusement.

"Bless me," said he, "how sthrange it is!"

"What is?" inquired Anthony, in his deep and grating tones.

"Why, thin, it is sthrange!" continued the other, who, despite of the
severity of his brother, was remarkably superstitious--"a coffin I made
in the ashes three times runnin'! Isn't it very quare, Anne?" he added,
addressing the niece.

"Sthrange enough, of a sartinty," she replied, being unwilling to
express before her father the alarm which the incident, slight as it
was, created in her mind; for she, like her uncle, was subject to such
ridiculous influences. "How did it happen, uncle?"

"Why, thin, no way in life, Anne; only, as I was thryin' to make a shoe,
it turned out a coffin on my hands. I thin smoothed the ashes, and began
agin, an' sorra bit of it but was a coffin still. Well, says I, I'll
give you another chance,--here goes one more;--an', as sure as gun's
iron, it was a coffin the third time. Heaven be about us, it's odd
enough!"

"It would be little matther you were nailed down in a coffin," replied
Anthony, fiercely; "the world would have little loss. What a pitiful
cowardly rascal you are! Afraid o' your own shadow afther the 'sun goes
down, except I'm at your elbow! Can't you dhrive all them palavers out
o' your head? Didn't the sargint tell us, an' prove to us, the time we
broke the guardhouse, an' took Frinch lave o' the ridgment for good,
that the whole o' that, an' more along wid it, is all priestcraft?"

"I remimber he did, sure enough: I dunna where the same sargint is now,
Tony? About no good, any way, I'll be bail. Howsomever, in regard o'
that, why doesn't yourself give up fastin' from the mate of a Friday?"

"Do you want me to sthretch you on the hearth?" replied the savage,
whilst his eyes kindled into fury, and his grim visage darkened into a
satanic expression. "I'll tache you to be puttin' me through my catechiz
about aitin' mate. I may manage that as I plase; it comes