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Rh her husband, who had been washed ashore, and buried without a coffin; she bought a white coffin and took it to the spot with her own hands, she dug him from his grave, and "proved" him by a leather button she had sewed upon some part of his clothes.

December 3d.—Another night of darkness and terrible storm. The lightning threw a blue luster upon everything,—the affrighted daughters turned pale,—the mother sat in a dark corner, now and then giving a stifled groan,—shrinking before the voice of Jehovah when he thundered in the heavens. The next morning while the tempest was still high, a sorrowing old mother and young wife had come, bearing on a cart the body of the son who was drowned on the 9th. The white coffin besmeared with tar stood upon the pier; the mother, wife, and sisters were beside it, mingling their loud lamentations with the storm. "He was as fine a young lad as ever put the oar across the curragh, and had the larnin' intirely," said the old mother.

The scenes on this coast that dreadful winter, are scenes of awful remembrance, and one bright spot alone cheered the sadness. It had been the practice for the mother and daughters to assemble in a retired room in the evening for reading the scriptures and prayer. One evening a daughter of the family came from the kitchen with the strange glad message, that one of the laboring men had requested that the lady should, ("if it wouldn't be too much,") come down to the kitchen and read to them there. Joyfully we all went, and found there a company of more than twenty, all quietly seated