about half an hour I found myself in a grand bedroom; an' jist as I was put into the door he whishpers me to bring the child to him in the next room, as soon as it would be born. Well, sure I did so, afther lavin' the mother in a fair way. But what 'ud you have of it? the first thing I see, lyin' an the table, was a purse of money an' a case o' pistols. Whin I looked at him, I thought the devil, Lord guard us! was in his face, he looked so black and terrible about the brows. Now, my good woman,' says he, 'so far you've acted well, but there's more to be done yet. Take your choice of these two,' says he, 'this purse or the contents o' one o' these pistols as your reward. You must murdher the child upon the spot.' In the name of God an' his Mother, be you man or devil, I defy you,' says I; 'no innocent blood 'll ever be shed by these hands.' 'I'll give you ten minutes,' says he, 'to put an end to that brat there;' an' wid that he cocked one o' the pistols. My dears, I had nothin' for it but to say in to myself a pather an' ave as fast as I could, for I thought it was all over wid me. However, glory be to God, the prayers gave me great stringth, an' I spoke stoutly. 'Whin the king of Jerusalem,' says Ì, 'an he was a greater man than ever you'll be-whin the king of Jerusalem ordhered the midwives of Aigyp to put Moses to death, they wouldn't do it, an' God preserved them in spite of him, king though he was,' says I; 'an' from that day to this it was never known that a midwife took away the life of the babe she aided into the world-no, an' I'm not goin' to be the first that'll do it.' The time is out,' · 'says he, puttin' the pistol to my ear, but I'll give you one minute more.' 'Let me go to my knees first,' says I; 'an' may God have mercy on my sowl, for, bad as I am, I'm willin' to die sooner than commit murdher an the innocent.' He gave a start as I spoke, an' threw the pistol down. 'Aye,' said he, 'an the innocentt—an the innocent—that is thrue! But you are an extraordinary woman: you have saved that child's life, and previnted me from committing two great crimes, for it was my intintion to murdher you afther you had murdhered it.' I thin, by his ordhers, brought the poor child to its mother, and whin I came back to the room, "Take that purse,'

says he, 'an' keep it as a reward for your honesty.' 'Wid the help o' God,' says I, a penny of it will never come into my company, so it's no use to ax me.' 'Well,' says he, 'afore you lave this, you must swear not to mintion to a livin' sowl what has happened this night, for a year and a day.' It didn't signify to me whether I mintioned it or not; so being jack-indifferent about it, I tuck the oath and kept it. He thin bound my eyes agin, hoisted me up behind him, an' in a short time left me at home. Indeed, I wasn't the betther o' the start it tuck out o' me for as good as six weeks afther!"

The company now began to grow musical; several songs were sung; and when the evening got farther advanced, a neighboring fiddler was sent for, and the little party had a dance in the barn, to which they adjourned lest the noise might disturb Mrs. Keho, had they held it in the dwelling-house. Before this occurred, however, the "midwife's glass" went the round of the gossips, each of whom drank her health, and dropped some silver, at the same time, into the bottom of it. It was then returned to her, and with a smiling face she gave the following toast: “Health to the parent stock! So long as it thrives, there will always be branches! Corny Keho, long life an' good health to you an' yours! May your son live to see himself as happy as his father! Youngsters, here's that you may follow a good example! The company's health in general I wish; an', Paddy Rafferty, that you may never have a blind child but you'll have a lame one to lead it! ha, ha, ha! What's the world widout a joke? I must see the good woman an' my little son afore I go; but as I won't follow yez to the barn, I'll bid yez good-night, neighbors, an' the blessin' of Rose Moan be among yez !"

And so also do we take leave of our old friend Rose Moan, the Irish midwife, who, we understand, took her last leave of the world many years ago.

THE WILL O' THE WISP.

Many years ago, the writer of this, being in the city of Dublin, had the pleasure of hearing the following story from the lips of the far-famed " Zozimus." I have never before seen it in print, and thinking it might perhaps interest your readers, I will endeavor to give it as nearly as possible in the words of its famous narrator, though acknowledging my utter inability to even remotзly approach his inimitable style of delivering it. It was told with such earnestness, that I have no doubt whatever that Zozimus himself implicitly believed in the truth of every word he uttered. The story runs:

northern part of Ireland a Now William was a sort of

In olden times there lived in the blacksmith called William Cooper. a loose chap, and the divil entirely at all spoorts. He was noted far and near as the hardest drinker and most reckless dare-divil in the county. Finally his squandering habits plunged him head an' heels in debt, and he had no possible manner of payin'. In his dispare he called on the Ould Boy below to help him, an' shure enough, the divil came at his call. William struck a bargain wid him at once which appeared to satisfy both parties. William was to receive as much goold as he cud spind, but, in return, he was to sell his sowl to the Ould Lad, who was to cum fur him in seven years' time. After William had signed the bond with his blud, the divil disappeared in a flash of blue flame.

William soon got from bad to wurse, spindin' and squanderin' his money in foolishness and dissipation.

But wid all that he wuz no ways mane or stingy in the matter

of helpin' a poor nabur, an' many wuz the blessin' he got from their grateful hearts, an' many wuz the prayer offered up fur God to direct him to the right road agin.

Howsomever, it seemed all of no avail, an' it looked as if nothin' wud ever turn him. One day an ould woman whom he cum across axed him fur some alms. He didn't wait to spake, but put his fist in his pocket and drawed out a bright goold guinea, which he handed to her, sayin', "There, me poor woman, an' I hope it will do you more good than it wud do me." The ould woman thanked him kindly, fur you must understhand that a guinea in them days wuz thought a big lot of money entirely by the poor people. So she says to him, "Now, William Cooper, since you have been so kind to a poor ould woman, I will grant you any three wishes you ax fur." You see the ould woman was a fairyone of the good foiks, you know (this was uttered by Zozimus in a low voice and with a confidential manner)-an' she had the power of granting wishes, pervided it wouldn't injure a mortal's sowl.

Well, me brave William spoke up an' says: "Furst ov all, I wish that any one that lifts my sledge to sthrike wid it, must kape on sthrikin' till I take it aff him." "That wish is granted," said the fairy. "Next, I wish that any one that sits down in my arm-chair can never get up out ov it till I relase them." "That wish is also granted," said the fairy. "And now, fur the last one, I wish fur a purse that no one but myself can take anything out ov that I put in it." The fairy immediately drew a purse from her pocket, an' givin' it to William, says: .

"Your wishes are all granted," an' thin she disappeared. Some time after this, as William wuz wurkin' away at his forge an' whistlin' to himself, who shud walk in the door but ould Beelzebub. "Ha, ha, William," he sez; "I've cum fur ye at last -time's up, me boy." "All right," sez Will, not alarmed in the laste. "I'm ready to go, av you wait till I finish these plowirons fur a nabur; I promised him I'd do thim fur him to-day, an' I wudn't like to go down below till I fulfilled me promise, so as not to disappoint him." "All right," sez the divil, "I'll wait." "Take the sledge, thin, an' give me a hand," sez William, "an' I'll be done all the quicker."

So the divil took the sledge an' commenced to strike. Well, he struck, an' struck, an' struck away till he was tired out, an’ sick an' sore in every limb, an' there stud Will laughing at him. When he was most ready to drop down, he cries out:

"Will, Will, asthore, av you only take this aff me, I'll not bother you fur five years to cum, an' let you have all the money you want to spind till I cum agin."

"It's a bargain," sed William; so he tuk the sledge aff him an' the divil disappeared.

After this William wint on wurse than ever, an' got so that he wudn't do any wurk at all, until his time was near up. Thin he straightened up a little. One day he was plowin' a small patch of ground belongin' to him, whin the Ould Chap cum fur him agin. "I want you this time," sez the divil. "All right, ma bouchal," sez William; "cum to the house wid me till I put on a clane shirt, as I don't like to go into company unless I look dacent." The divil agreed to this, an' they wint back to the house together.

"She sheese," sez William, pushing over his arm-chair, so the divil sat down in it, bud bad scran to the up he cud get agin. Will only laughed at him an' put on a clane shirt, an' off to the market town he wint, where there wuz a fair goin' on. He didn't cum back till iate that night, an' there sat the divil still, an' him blue in the face wid his struggles to get out ov the chair.

"Oh, Will!" he cried, "let me out of this, and I won't cum agin fur another five years."

"All right," says Will, an' he let him go; but on account of his bein' half drunk, he didn't notice that the divil promised him no money this time. Will soon found to his grief that what money ho had didn't last long, an' people wud give him no work to do on account of his bad ways. So the long and short of it wuż, that Will at last had to beg his bit from door to door. When the time cum round agin, the divil appeared, an' poor Will sez, "I'm glad you cum, fur I'm tired an' sick of livin', anyhow."