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'nough before night," said the Brown Man, " and you likewise, my little dog."

"Boh!" cried the dog, "I'm in no hurry-I hunted down a doe this morning that was fed with milk from the horns of the moon."

Often in the course of that day did Nora Guare go to the door, and cast her eye over the weary flat before it, to discern, if possible, the distant figures of her bridegroom and mother. The dusk of the second evening found her alone in the desolate cot. She listened to every sound. At length the door opened, and an old woman, dressed in a new jock, and leaning on a staff, entered the hut. "O mother, are you come?" said Nora, and was about to rush into her arms, when the old woman stopped her.

"Whisht! whisht! my child!-I only stepped in before the man to know how you like him? Speak softly, in dread he'd hear youhe's turning the horse loose, in the swamp, abroad, over."

"O mother, mother! such a story!"

"Whisht! easy again - how does he use you?"

"Sarrow worse. That straw my bed, and

them white-eyes-and bad ones they are-all my diet. And 'tisn't that same, only—”

"Whisht! easy, agin! He'll hear you, may be-Well?"

"I'd be easy enough only for his own doings. Listen, mother. The fusht night, I came about twelve o'clock"

"Easy, speak easy, eroo!"

"He got up at the call of the horse and the dog, and staid out a good hour.

He ate nothing

next day. The second night, and the second day, it was the same story. The third" "Husht! husht! Well, the third night?" "The third night I said I'd watch him. Mother, don't hold my hand so hard.... He got up, and I got up after him.... Oh, don't laugh, mother, for 'tis frightful.... I followed him to Mucruss church-yard.... Mother, mother, you hurt my hand. ... I looked in at the gate-there was great moonlight there, and I could see every thing as plain as day."

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Well, darling-husht! softly! What did you see?"

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...

My husband by the grave, and the horse,
Turn your head aside, mother, for your

breath is very hot.... and the dog and they eating. Ah, you are not my mother!" shrieked the miserable girl, as the Brown Man flung off his disguise, and stood before her, grinning worse than a blacksmith's face through a horsecollar. He just looked at her one moment, and then darted his long fingers into her bosom, from which the red blood spouted in so many streams. She was very soon out of all pain, and a merry supper the horse, the dog, and the Brown Man had that night, by all accounts.

PERSECUTIONS OF JACK-EDY.

First, for your dwarf, he's little and witty,
And every thing, as 'tis little, is pretty;

Else, Why do men say to a creature of my shape,

So soon as they see him, " It's a pretty little ape?"
Beside, this feat body of mine doth not crave

Half the meat, drink, and cloth, one of your bulk will have.

Volpone, or The Fox.

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