"An' what is the Black Pig, Barney?"

"The Prospitarian church, that stretches from Enniskillen to Darry, an' back again from Darry to Enniskillen."

Well, well, Barney, but prophecy is a strange thing to be sure! Only think of men livin' a thousand years!"

Every night one of Beal Derg's men must go to the mouth of the cave, which opens of itself, an' then look out for the sign that's expected. He walks up to the top of the mountain, an' turns to the four corners of the heavans, to thry if he can see it; an' when he finds that he cannot, he goes back to Beal Derg, who, afther the other touches him, starts up, an' axes him, 'Is the time come?' He replies, No; the man is, but the hour is not!' an' that instant they're both asleep again. Now, you see, while the soger is on the mountain top, the mouth of the cave is open, an' any one may go in that might happen to see it. One man it appears did, an' wishin' to know from curiosity whether the sogers were dead or livin', he touched one of them wid his hand, who started up an' axed him the same question, 'Is the time come ?' Very fortunately he said 'No,' an' that minute the soger was as sound in his trance as before."

"An', Barney, what did the soger mane when he said, 'The man is, but the hour is not '?"

"What did he mane? I'll tell you that. The man is Bonyparty; which manes, when put into proper explanation, the right side; that is, the true cause. Larned men have found that out." “Barney, wasn't Columkill a great prophet?”

"He was a great man entirely at prophecy. He prophesied 'that the cock wid the purple comb is to have both his wings clipped by one of his own breed before the struggle come.' Before that time, too, we're to have the Black Militia, an' afther that it is time for every man to be prepared."

"An', Barney, who is the cock wid the purple comb?"

"Why, the Orangemen to be sure. Isn't purple their color, the dirty thieves?"

"An' the Black Militia, Barney, who are they?"

"I have gone far an' near, through north an' through south,

up an' down, by hill an' hollow, till my toes were corned an' ✦ my heels in griskins, but could find no one able to resolve that, or bring it clear out o' the prophecy. They're to be sogers in black, an' all their arms an' 'coutrements is to be the same color; an' farther than that is not known as yet."

"It's a wondher you don't know it, Barney, for there's little about prophecy that you haven't at your finger ends.”

"Three birds is to meet (Barney proceeded in a kind of recitative enthusiasm) upon the saes-two ravens an' a dove-the two ravens is to attack the dove until she's at the point of death; but before they take her life, an eagle comes and tears the two ravens to pieces, an' the dove recovers.

"There's to be two cries in the kingdom; one of them is to rache from the Giants' Causeway to the centre house of the town of Sligo; the other is to rache from the Falls of Beleek to the Mill of Louth, which is to be turned three times with human blood; but this is not to happen until a man with two thumbs an' six fingers upon his right hand happens to be the miller."

"Who's to give the sign of freedom to Ireland ?"

"The little boy wid the red coat that's born a dwarf, lives a giant, and dies a dwarf again! He's lightest of foot, but leaves the heaviest foot-mark behind him. An' it's he that is to give the sign of freedom to Ireland!"

"There's a period to come when Antichrist is to be upon the earth, attended by his two body servants, Gog and Magog. Who are they, Barney?"

"They are the sons of Hegog an' Shegog, or in other words of Death an' Destruction, and cousin-jarmins to the evil one himself, which of coorse is the raison why he promotes them." "Lord save us! But I hope that won't be in our time, Bar

ney!"

"Antichrist is to come from the land of Crame o' Tarthar (Crim Tartary), which will account for himself an' his army breathin' fire a.' brimstone out of their mouths.

"The prophet of the Black Stone is to come, who was born never to prognosticate a lie. He is to be a mighty hunter, an' instead

of riding to his fetlocks in blood, he is to ride upon it, to the admiration of his times. It's of him it is said that he is to be the only prophet that ever went on horseback!'

"Then there's Bardolphus, who, as there was a prophet wid the red mouth, is called 'the prophet wid the red nose.' Ireland was, it appears from ancient books, undher wather for many hundred years before her discovery; but bein' allowed to become visible one day in every year, the enchantment was broken by a sword that was thrown upon the earth, an' from that out she remained dry, an' became inhabited. 'Woe, woe, woc,' says Bardolphus, the time is to come when we'll have a second deluge, an' Ireland is to be undher wather once more. A well is to open at Cork that will cover the whole island from the Giants' Causeway to Cape Clear. In them days St. Patrick will be despised, an' will stand over the pleasant houses wid his pasthoral crook in hand, crying out Cead mille failtha in vain! Woe, woe, woe,' says Bardolphus, for in them days there will be a great confusion of colors among the people; there will be neither red noses nor pale cheeks, an' the divine face of man, alas! will put forth blossoms no more. The heart of the times will become changed; an' when they rise up in the morning, it will come to pass that there will be no longer light heads or shaking hands among Irishmen ! Woe, woe, woe, men, women and children will then die, an' their only complaint, like all those who perished in the flood of ould, will be wather on the brain-wather on the brain! Woe, woe, woe,' says Bardolphus, 'for the changes that is to come, an' the misfortunes that's to befall the many for the noddification of the few! an' yet such things must be, for I, in virtue of the red spirit that dwells in mc, must prophesy them. In those times men will be shod in liquid fire an' not be burned; their breeches shall be made of fire, an' will not burn them; their bread shall be made of fire, an' will not burn them; their meat shall be made of fire, an' will not burn them; an' why ?-Oh, woe, woc, wather shall so prevail that the coolness of their bodies will keep them safe; yea, they shall even get fat, fair, an' be full of health an' strength, by wearing garments wrought out of

liquid fire, by eating liquid fire, an' all because they do not drink liquid fire-an' this calamity shall come to pass,' says Bardolphus, the prophet of the red nose.

"Two widows shall be grinding at the Mill of Louth (so saith the prophecy); one shall be taken and the other left."

Thus would Barney proceed, repeating such ludicrous and heterogeneous mixtures of old traditionary prophecies and spurious quotations from Scripture as were concocted for him by those who took delight in amusing themselves and others at the expense of his inordinate love for prophecy.

"But, Barney, touching the Mill o' Louth, of the two widows grindin' there, whether will the one that is taken or the one that is left be the best off?"

"The prophecy doesn't say," replied Barney, "an' that's a matther that larned men are very much divided about. My own opinion is, that the one that is taken will be the best off; betune wars an' pestilences an' famine, the men are to be so scarce that several of them are to be torn to pieces by the women in their struggles to see who will get them for husbands. That time they say is to come."

Such were the speculations upon which the harmless mind of Barney M'Haighrey ever dwelt. From house to house, from parish to parish, and from province to province, did he thus trudge, never in a hurry, but always steady and constant in his motions. He might be not inaptly termed the Old Mortality of traditionary prophecy, which he often chiseled anew, added to, and improved, in a manner that generally gratified himself and his hearers. He was a harmless, kind man, and never known to stand in need of either clothes or money. He paid little attention to the silent business of ongoing life, and was consequently very nearly an abstraction. He was always on the alert, however, for the result of a battle; and after having heard it, he would give no opinion whatsoever until he had first silently compared it with his own private theory in prophecy. If it agreed with this, he immediately published it in connection with his established text ; but if it did not, he never opened his lips on the subject.

His class has disappeared, and indeed it is so much the better, for the minds of the people were thus filled with antiquated nonsense that did them no good. Poor Barney, to his great mortification, lived to see with his own eyes the failure of his most favorite prophecies, but he was not to be disheartened even by this; though some might fail, all could not; and his stock was too varied and extensive not to furnish him with a sufficient number of others over which to cherish his imagination and expatiate during the remainder of his inoffensive life.