Satisfied that no danger was to be feared, the unkempt little heads were withdrawn under their boxes. They entered a room, full of men and women, on a table in which, covered with a scanty rag, was laid the corpse of the woman, who, the clergyman soon ascertained, had been dead for three hours. The husband, he shrewdly suspected, had asked for this visit in order to obtain drink-money, under pretence of assistance towards funeral expenses. The occupants of the room, male and female, were, most of them, more or less drunk; they belonged to the lowest type of Irish hoodlum; in the center of the room near the table on which lay the corpse, sat up a skinny old hag, repulsive and horrible in her mirth. Mr. A⸺ was soon pressed for a small immediate sum of money, “jist to make things dacent.” But my friend Mr. ⸺ is possessed, not only of great shrewdness and resolution, but has also the physical strength so necessary in visiting such dens. He refused their request for money, but said he would come next day and help. This kind announcement was by no means received with enthusiasm. The old crone in the bed exclaimed “musha, lave the gintleman alone; sure to-morrow we’ll sind to the ladies at the convint, and it’s they will do the dacent thing for us!” This appeal to the odium theologicum was judged to be ill-timed by the others, one of whom gave the old lady a dig in the ribs which sent her flying from the bed to the floor. Next day he purchased a plain but neatly got up coffin at a cost of six dollars, with a shroud to match, and sent it to the house of mourning. But when this warm-hearted clergyman later in the day met the bereaved husband the latter broke out with “Arrah, tare ’an ages! did yer riverence think me woife’ud be buried in a thing like that, and she a rale lady born? Sure it ’ud disgrace the honor of the family!” On being thus rebuffed, Mr. ⸺ told the man TO RETURN THE COFFIN