by his colossal companion. The listener paused a moment; first looking
at Jer, and then at the ground, very gravely: but the next moment he
burst into a loud, and Jeremiah thought, frightful laugh, and walked
rapidly to overtake his shipmate. Jeremiah, much oppressed,
returned home.

Towards dawn, next morning, the publican awoke in an ominous panic, and
aroused his wife to listen to a loud knocking, and a clamor of voices at
their door. She insisted that there was no such thing, and scolded him
for disturbing her sleep. A renewal of the noise, however, convinced
even her incredulity, and showed that Jeremiah was right for the first
time in his life, at least. Both arose, and hastened to answer
the summons.

When they unbarred the front door, a gentleman, surrounded by a crowd of
people of the village, stood before it. He had discovered on the by-road
through the hills from Kilbroggan, a dead body, weltering in its gore,
and wearing sailor's clothes; had ridden on in alarm; had raised the
village; and some of its population, recollecting to have seen Mrs.
Mulcahy's visitors of the previous evening, now brought him to her house
to hear what she could say on the subject.

Before she could say anything, her husband fell senseless at her side,
groaning dolefully. While the bystanders raised him, she clapped her
hands, and exalted her voice in ejaculations, as Irishwomen, when
grieved or astonished or vexed, usually do; and now, as proud of
Jeremiah's dreaming capabilities as she had before been impatient of
them, rehearsed his vision of the murder, and authenticated the visit of
the two sailors to her house, almost while he was in the act of making
her the confidant of his prophetic ravings. The auditors stept back in