apparition, in the beginning, only at night; but ere long it ventured, as she imagined, to appear in day-light.  Many imaginary conversations took place between them; and the fact of the peasantry flocking to the herd’s house to satisfy themselves as to the truth of the rumor, is yet well remembered in the parish.  It, was also affirmed, that as the funeral of M’Kenna passed to the churchyard, a hare crossed it, which some one present struck on the side with a stone.  The hare, says the tradition, was not injured, but the sound of the stroke resembled that produced on striking an empty barrel.

We have nearly wound up our story, in which we have feebly endeavored to illustrate scenes that were, some time ago, not unusual in Irish life.  There is little more to be added, except that Mike Reillaghan almost miraculously recovered; that he and Peggy Gartland were happily married, and that Darby More lost his character as a dreamer in that parish, Mike, with whom, however, he still continued a favorite, used frequently to allude to the speaking crucifix, the dream aforesaid, and his bit of fiction, in assuring his mother that he had dissuaded him against “tracing” on that eventful day.

“Well, avourneen,” Darby would exclaim, “the holiest of us has our failins; but, in throth, the truth of it is, that myself didn’t know what I was sayin’, I was so through other (* agitated); for I renumber that I was badly afflicted with this thief of a configuration inwardly at the time.  That, you see, and your own throubles, put my mind ashanghran for ‘a start.  But, upon my sanctity,—­an’ sure that’s a great oath wid me—­only for the Holy Carol you bought from me the night before, an’ above all touchin’ you wid the blessed Cruciwhix, you’d never a’ got over the same accident.  Oh, you may smile an’ shake your head, but it’s thruth whether or not!  Glory be to God!”

The priest of the parish, on ascertaining correctly the incidents mentioned in this sketch, determined to deprive the people of at least one pretext for their follies.  He represented the abuses connected with such a ceremony to the bishop; and from that night to the present time, the inhabitants of Kilnaheery never had, in their own parish, an opportunity of hearing a Midnight Mass.

THE DONAGH; OR, THE HORSE STEALERS.

Carnmore, one of those small villages that are to be found in the outskirts of many parishes in Ireland, whose distinct boundaries are lost in the contiguous mountain-wastes, was situated at the foot of a deep gorge or pass, overhung by two bleak hills, from the naked sides of which the storm swept over it, without discomposing the peaceful little nook of cabins that stood below.  About a furlong farther down were two or three farm-houses, inhabited by a family named Cassidy, men of simple, inoffensive manners, and considerable wealth.  They were, however, acute and wise in their generation; intelligent cattle-dealers, on whom it would have been a matter of some difficulty to impose an unsound horse, or a cow older than was intimated by her horn-rings, even when conscientiously dressed up for sale by the ingenious aid of the file or burning-iron.  Between their houses and the hamlet rose a conical pile of rocks, loosely leaped together, from which the place took its name of Carnmore.