her wish, but was yet either too indifferent on the subject, or too
lazy, to go such a journey as to the city of T---- in search of a
personage of whom he stood in such awe, and knew so little of, as the
Catholic priest. A neighboring Irish farmer, named O'Leary, hearing of
the wish of the dying woman, volunteered to bring the priest, if "there
was one to be found in all America," he said, "provided he got a horse
and wagon from the stable of the rich Yankee." And it was in company
with this simple but brave and faithful man that Father O'Shane set out
on the evening of the widow's death. They had not advanced many miles,
however, when the wind veered round to the north-west, and a most
violent snow storm blew quite in their face. Slow and unpleasant was
their progress over the hard, icy road; but in the course of a few hours
their farther advance became an utter impossibility with a wagon. They
had, therefore, to stop at a tavern; and after a good deal of entreaty,
and after having fed their horse, they succeeded in hiring from the boss
the use of a sleigh to carry them along to Vermont.

"Ye can't travel nohow to-night," said the boss; "the roads will be
blocked up, chuck full."

"We'll have to travel, sir," said the Irishman, "or die in the attempt;
so let us have the cutter. Charge what you have a mind to."

"Why, what in the world can be the matter? Ye ain't subpoenaed, or going
to arrest somebody?" said the jolly boss.

"Ah, no such thing, man," said the farmer; "but there is a woman
dangerously ill, and yon gentleman in the sitting room is a doctor,
going to visit her. Cost what it may, we must go ahead."