e had in her arms from falling on the flure. She
had seen enough, God help her!--for she took labor that instant, and, in
about two hours, afterwards, was stretched a corpse beside her husband,
with her heart-broken and desolate orphans in an uproar of outher misery
about them. That was the end of Larry M'Farland and Sally Lowry;
two that might have done well in the world, had they taken care of
themselves--avoided, fairs and markets--except when they had business
there--not given themselves idle fashions by drinking, or going to
dances, and wrought as well for themselves as they did for others."

"But how did he lose his life, at all at all?" inquired Nancy.

"Why, they found his hat in a bog-hole upon the water, and on searching
the hole itself poor Larry was fished up from the bottom of it."

"Well, that's a murdhering sorrowful story," said Shane Fadh: "but you
won't be after passing that on us for the wake, ainy how."

"Well, you must learn patience, Shane," said the narrator, "for you know
patience is a virtue."

"I'll warrant you that Tom and his wife made a better hand of
themselves," said Alick M'Kinley, "than Larry and Sally did."

"Ah! I wouldn't fear, Alick," said Tom, "but you would come at the
truth--'tis you that may say they did; there wasn't two in the parish
more comfortable than the same two, at the very time that Larry and
Sally came by their deaths. It would do you good to look at their
hagyard--the corn stacks were so nately roped and trimmed, and the walls
so well made up, that a bird could scarcely get into it. Their barn and
cowhouse, too, and dwelling-house, were all comfortably thatched, and
the windies all glazed, with not a broken pane in them. Altogether they
had come on wondherfully; sould a good dale of male and praties every
year; so that in a short time they were able to lay by a little money
to help to fortune off their little girls, that were growing up fine
colleens, all out."

"And you may add, I suppose," said Andy Morrow, "that they lost no time
going to fairs and dances, or other foolish divarsions. I'll engage
they never were at a dance in the Squire's kitchen; that they never went
about losing their time working for others, when their own business
was going at sixes and sevens, for want of hands; nor spent their money
drinking and thrating a parcel of friends that only laugh at them for
their pains, and wouldn't, maybe, put one foot past the other to sarve
them; nor neve