which probably screened them from the full force of
the blast, acting at the same time as a support to their feeble
consistency; sand and earthy matter were driven about and tossed against
the casement, insomuch that I almost anticipated a living inhumation.
The next gust, however, generally swept off the greater portion of the
deposit, making way for a fresh torrent, that poured upon the quaking
roof like the rush of a heavy sea over a ship's bulwarks.

I was not destined to be left companionless in the midst of my alarms.
The old woman and her daughter, too much terrified to remain quiet, came
down from their resting-place, which, being close within the thatch, was
most exposed to the tempest. A light was struck, and the dying embers
once more kindled into a blaze. The old woman, whom I could not but
observe with emotions of awe and curiosity, sat cowering over the flame,
her withered hands half-covering her furrowed and haggard cheeks; a
starting gleam occasionally lighted up her grey and wasted locks, which,
matted in wild elf-knots, hung about her temples. Occasionally she would
turn her head as the wind came hurrying on, and the loud rush of the
blast went past the dwelling. She seemed to gaze upon it as though
'twere peopled, and she beheld the "sightless coursers of the air"
careering on the storm; then, with a mutter and a groan, she again
covered her face, rocking to and fro to the chant of some wild and
unintelligible ditty. Her daughter sat nearly motionless, hearkening
eagerly during the short intervals between the gusts; and as the wind
came bellowing on, she huddled closer into the chimney-corner, whither
she had crept for protection.

"Such nights are not often known in these parts," said I, taking
advantage, as I spoke, of a pause in the warfare without. The old woman
made no answer; but the daughter, bending forwards, replied slowly and
with great solemnity:--"Mother has seen the death-lights dancing upo'
the black scud: some ha' seen the sun sink down upon the waters that
winna see him rise again fro' the hill-top."

"Is your mother a seer, then, my pretty maiden?"

"Ye're but a stranger, I guess, if you know not Bridget o' the Sandy
Holm--Save us! she's hearkening again for the"----

"There!--Once!" The old woman raised her hands as she spoke, and bent
her head in an attitude of listening and eager expectation. I listened
too, but could discover no sound, save the heavy swing of the blast, and
i