the 'station?'--look out at the door and see."

Owen ascended a little rising ground in front of the cabin, from which
the whole valley was visible; but except a group that followed a funeral
upon the road, he could see no human thing around. The green where the
"stations" were celebrated was totally deserted. There were neither
tents nor people; the panic of the plague had driven all ideas of
revelry from the minds of the most reckless; and, even to observe the
duties of religion, men feared to assemble in numbers. So long as the
misfortune was at a distance, they could mingle their prayers in common,
and entreat for mercy; but when death knocked at every door, the terror
became almost despair.

"Is the 'stations' going on?" asked the old man eagerly, as Owen
re-entered the room. "Is the people at the holy well?"

"I don't see many stirring at all, to-day," was the cautious answer; for
Owen scrupled to inflict any avoidable pain upon his mind.

"Lift me up, then!" cried he suddenly, and with a voice stronger, from
a violent effort of his will. "Lift me up to the window, till I see the
blessed cross; and maybe I'd get a prayer among them. Come, be quick,
Owen!"

Owen hastened to comply with his request; but already the old man's eyes
were glazed and filmy. The effort had but hastened the moment of his
doom; and, with a low faint sigh, he lay back, and died.

To the Irish peasantry, who, more than any other people of Europe, are
accustomed to bestow care and attention on the funerals of their friends
and relatives, the Cholera, in its necessity for speedy interment, was
increased in terrors tenfold. The honours which they were wont to lavish
on the dead--the ceremonial of the wake--the mingled merriment and
sorrow--the profusion with which they spent the hoarded gains of
hard-working labour--and lastly, the long train to the churchyard,
evidencing the respect entertained for the departed, should all be
foregone; for had not prudence forbid their assembling in numbers, and
thus incurring the chances of contagion, which, whether real or not,
they firmly believed in, the work of death was too widely disseminated
to make such gatherings possible. Each had some one to lament within the
limits of his own family, and private sorrow left little room for public
sympathy. No longer then was the road filled by people on horseback and
foot, as the funeral procession moved forth. The death-wail sounded
no more. To chant the _re