allet and displaying five
or six large stones.

Some were tempted to laugh, but a mysterious dread of the wild being
before them, prevented any outbreak of mirth.

"God help the craythur!" said a woman, so loud as to be heard. "He has
brought a bag full o' stones to throw a top o' the tithes to keep them
down--O wisha! wisha! poor craythur!"

"Aye--stones!"--said the maniac; "but do you know; what stones these
are? Look woman--" and his manner became intensely impressive from the
excitement even of madness, under which he was acting.--"Look, I
say--there's not a stone there that's not a curse--aye a curse so heavy
that nothing can ever rise that falls under it."

"Oh I don't want to say aginst it, dear," said the woman.

The maniac did not seem to notice her submissive answer, but pursuing
his train of madness, continued his address in his native tongue, whose
figurative and poetical construction was heightened in its effect, by a
manner and action almost theatrically descriptive.

"You all remember the Widow Dempsy. The first choice of her bosom was
long gone, but the son she loved was left to her, and her heart was not
quite lonely. And at the widow's hearth there was still a welcome for
the stranger--and the son of her heart made his choice, like the father
before him, and the joy of the widow's house was increased, for the son
of her heart was happy.--And in due time the widow welcomed the
fair-haired child of her son to the world, and a dream of her youth
came over her, as she saw the joy of her son and her daughter, when
they kissed the fair-haired child--But the hand of God was heavy in the
land, and the fever fell hard upon the poor--and the widow was again
bereft,--for the son of her heart was taken, and the wife of his bosom
also--and the fair-haired child was left an orphan. And the widow
would have laid down her bones and died, but for the fair-haired child
that had none to look to but her. And the widow blessed God's name and
bent her head to the blow--and the orphan that was left to her was the
pulse of her heart, and often she looked on his pale face with a
fearful eye, for health was not on the cheek of the boy--but she
cherished him tenderly.

"But the ways of the world grew crooked to the lone woman, when the
son, that was the staff of her age, was gone, and one trouble followed
another, but still the widow was not quite destitute.--And what was it
brought the heavy stroke of distress and