han a boy, had
attempted to defend their hut, and they were both left for dead. His
wife and his daughter, a girl of sixteen, were also murdered. The
wretched father, unfortunately, recovered his life, but his reason was
gone for ever. Even in the midst of his poverty and madness, there was
a sort of respect attached to this singular man. Though depending on
charity for his meat and drink, he could not well be called a beggar,
for he never asked for any thing--even on the road, when some
passenger, ignorant of his wild history, saw the poor wanderer, a piece
of money was often bestowed to the silent appeal of his rags, his
haggard features, and his grizly hair and beard.

Thus eternally up and down the country was he moving about, and hence
his name of "Tatther the Road."

It was not long until the old man gained the summit of the hill, but
while he was approaching, many were the "wonders" what in the name of
fortune could have brought Tatther the Road there.--"And by dad," said
one, "he's pullin' fut[8] at a great rate, and it's wondherful how an
owld cock like him can clamber up the hill so fast."

"Aye," said another, "and with the weight he's carrying too."

"Sure enough," said a third. "Faix he's got a fine lob in his wallet
to-day."

"Whisht!" said O'Hara.--"Here he comes, and his ears are as sharp as
needles."

"And his eyes too," said a woman. "Lord be good to me, did you ever
see poor Tatther's eyes look so terrible bright afore?"

And indeed this remark was not uncalled for, for the eyes of the old
man almost gleamed from under the shaggy brows that were darkly bent
over them, as, with long strides, he approached the crowd which opened
before him, and he stalked up to the side of the grave and threw down
the ponderous wallet, which fell to the ground with a heavy crash.

"You were going to close the grave too soon," were the first words he
uttered.

"Sure when the tithe is wanst buried, what more have we to do?" said
one of the by-standers.

"Aye, you have put the tithe in the grave--but will it stay there?"

"Why indeed," said Larry Lanigan, "I think he'd be a bowld resurrection
man that would come to rise it."

"I have brought you something here to lie heavy on it, and 't will
never rise more," said the maniac, striking forth his arm fiercely, and
clenching his hand firmly.

"And what have you brought us, Agrah?" said O'Hara kindly to him.

"Look here," said the other, unfolding his w