ed in
the calm confidence of having received the Viaticum, or Sacrament before
death, his decease would have had nothing remarkably calamitous in
it, beyond usual occurrences of a similar nature. Now the grief was
intensely bitter in consequence of his expected departure without the
priest. His sons and daughters felt it as forcibly as his wife; their
lamentations were full of the strongest and sharpest agony.

For nearly three hours did they remain in this situation; poor Lanigan
sinking by degrees into that collapsed state from which there is no
possibility of rallying. He was merely able to speak; and recognize his
family; but every moment advanced him, with awful certainty, nearer and
nearer to his end..

A great number of the neighbors were now assembled, all participating in
the awful feeling which predominated, and anxious to compensate by their
prayers for the absence of that confidence derived by Roman Catholics
during the approach of death, from the spiritual aid of the priest.
They were all at prayer; the sick-room and kitchen were crowded with his
friends and acquaintances, many of whom knelt out before the door,
and joined with loud voices in the Rosary which was offered up in his
behalf.

In this crisis were they, when a horseman, dressed in black, approached
the house. Every head was instantly turned round, with a hope that it
might be the parish priest or his curate; but, alas! they were doomed to
experience a fresh disappointment. The stranger, though clerical enough
in his appearance, presented a countenance with which none of them
was acquainted. On glancing at the group who knelt around the door, he
appeared to understand the melancholy cause which brought them together.

"How is this?" he exclaimed. "Is there any one here sick or dying?"

"Poor Misther Lanigan, sir, is jist departing glory be to God! An'
what is terrible all out upon himself and family, he's dyin' widout the
priest. They're both at Conwhirence, sir, and can't come--Mr. Dogherty
an' his curate."

"Make way!" said the stranger, throwing himself off his horse, and
passing quickly through the people. "Show me to the sick man's room--be
quick, my friends--I am a Catholic clergyman."

In a moment a passage was cleared, and the stranger found himself
beside the bed of death. Grief in the room was loud and bitter; but his
presence stilled it despite of what they felt.

"My dear friends," said he, "you know there should be silence i