(the plough) is driving on at a rate I never saw it
before to-night; but I suppose the driver is drunk, for there are
blackguards everywhere."

Cuddy had scarcely uttered these words when he saw, or fancied he saw, the
form of a young woman, who, holding up a bottle, beckoned him towards her.
The night was extremely beautiful, and the white dress of the girl floated
gracefully in the moonlight, as with gay step she tripped on before the
worthy father, archly looking back upon him over her shoulder. "Ah,
Margery--merry Margery!" cried Cuddy, "you tempting little rogue--'_Et a
Margery bella--Quae festiva puella_.' I see you--I see you and the
bottle!--let me but catch you, Margery _bella_." And on he followed,
panting and smiling, after this alluring apparition.

At length his feet grew weary, and his breath failed, which obliged him to
give up the chase; yet such was his piety, that unwilling to rest in any
attitude but that of prayer, down dropt Father Cuddy on his knees. Sleep
as usual stole upon his devotions, and the morning was far advanced when
he awoke from dreams, in which tables groaned beneath their load of
viands, and wine poured itself free and sparkling as the mountain spring.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked about him, and the more he looked the more he
wondered, at the alterations which appeared in the face of the country.
"Bless my soul and body," said the good father, "I saw the stars changing
last night, but here is a change!" Doubting his senses he looked again.
The hills bore the same majestic outline as on the preceding day, and the
lake spread itself beneath his view in the same tranquil beauty, and was
studded with the same number of islands; but every smaller feature in the
landscape was strangely altered;--what had been naked rocks, were now
clothed with holly and arbutus. Whole woods had disappeared, and waste
places had become cultivated fields; and to complete the work of
enchantment the very season itself seemed changed. In the rosy dawn of a
summer's morning he had left the monastery of Innisfallen, and he now felt
in every sight and sound the dreariness of winter; the hard ground was
covered with withered leaves; icicles depended from leafless branches; he
heard the sweet low note of the robin, who familiarly approached him; and
he felt his fingers numbed by the nipping frost. Father Cuddy found it
rather difficult to account for such sudden transformations, and to
convince himself it was not