the rumbling of the dead-coach was again heard coming; it drove up
to the house, drawn by six headless sable horses, and the figure
of a withered old hag, encircled with blue flame, was seen running
nimbly across the hay-yard. She entered the ominous carriage,
and it drove away with a horrible sound. It swept through the tall
bushes which surrounded the house; and as it disappeared the old
hag cast a thrilling scowl at the two men, and waved her fleshless
arms at them vengefully. It was soon lost to sight; but the
unearthly creaking of the wheels, the tramping of the horses, and
the appalling cries of the banshee continued to assail their ears
for a considerable time after all had vanished.

The brave fellows now returned to the house; they again made fast
the door, and reloaded their arms. Nothing, however, came to disturb
them that night, nor from that time forward; and the arrival of
the dead man's brother from London, in a few days after, relieved
them from their irksome task.

Old Moya did not live long after; she declined from that remarkable
night, and her remains were decently interred in the churchyard
adjoining the last earthly tenement of the loved family to which
she had been so long and so faithfully attached.

The insulted banshee has never since returned; and although several
members of that family have since closed their mortal career,
still the warning cry was never given; and it is supposed that the
injured spirit will never visit her ancient haunts until every one
of the existing generation shall have "slept with their fathers."

Jack O'Malley and his friend Harry lived some years after. Their