He then ordered in drink to treat her and her friends, which he distributed to them with his own hand; and after contriving to gain a few minutes' private chat with Grace, he amply rewarded the piper.

He was now about to take his leave and proceed with his brother, when two women, one about thirty-five, and the other far advanced in years, both accosted him almost at the same moment.
"Your honor won't go," said the less aged of the two, "until you get your fortune tould." "To be sure he won't, Caterine," they all replied; "we'll engage the gentleman will cross your hand wid silver, like his father before him, his heart's not in the money." "Never mind her, sir," said the aged crone, "she's a schemer, and will tell you nothing but what she knows will plaise you.

Show me your hand, sir, and I'll tell you the truth." "Never mind the _calliagh_, sir, (old woman, by way of reproach;) she's dotin', and hasn't remembered her own name these ten years." "It doesn't matter," said Woodward, addressing Caterine, "I shall hear what you both have to say--but you first." He accordingly crossed her hand with a piece of silver, after which she looked closely into it--then upon his countenance, and said, "You have two things in your mind, and they'll both succeed." "But, my good woman, any one might tell me as much." "No," she replied, with confidence; "examine your own heart and you'll find the two things there that it is fixed upon; and whisper," she added, putting her lips to his ear, "I know what they are, and can help you in both.

When you want me, inquire for Caterine Collins.

My uncle is Sol Donnell, the herb doctor." He smiled and nodded, but made no reply.
"Now," said he, "my old crone, come and let me hear what you have to say for me;" and as he spoke another coin was dropped into her withered and skinny hand.
"Bring me a candle," said she, in a voice that whistled with age, and if one could judge by her hag-like and repulsive features, with a malignity that was a habit of her life.