Next morning another cow was reported to be unwell.  The seal must now be finally removed; a Galway fishing-boat was leaving Westport on her return home, and the master undertook to carry off the seal, and not put him overboard until he had gone leagues beyond Innis Boffin.  It was done—­a day and night passed; the second evening closed—­the servant was raking the fire for the night—­something scratched gently at the door—­it was of course the house-dog—–­she opened it, and in came the seal!  Wearied with his long and unusual voyage, he testified by a peculiar cry, expressive of pleasure, his delight to find himself at home, then stretching himself before the glowing embers of the hearth he fell into a deep sleep.

The master of the house was immediately apprized of this unexpected and unwelcome visit.  In the exigency, the beldame was awakened and consulted; she averred that it was always unlucky to kill a seal, but suggested that the animal should be deprived of sight, and a third time carried out to sea.  To this hellish proposition the besotted wretch who owned the house consented, and the affectionate and confiding creature was cruelly robbed of sight, on that hearth for which he had resigned his native element!  Next morning, writhing in agony, the mutilated seal was embarked, taken outside Clare Island, and for the last time committed to the waves.

A week passed over, and things became worse instead of better; the cattle of the truculent wretch died fast, and the infernal hag gave him the pleasurable tidings that her arts were useless, and that the destructive visitation upon his cattle exceeded her skill and cure.

On the eighth night after the seal had been devoted to the Atlantic, it blew tremendously.  In the pauses of the storm a wailing noise at times was faintly heard at the door; the servants, who slept in the kitchen, concluded that the Banshee came to forewarn them of an approaching death, and buried their heads in the bed-coverings.  When morning broke the door was opened—­the seal was there lying dead upon the threshold!”

“Stop, Julius!” I exclaimed, “give me a moment’s time to curse all concerned in this barbarism.”

“Be patient, Frank,” said my cousin, “the finale will probably save you that trouble.  The skeleton of the once plump animal—­for, poor beast, it perished from hunger, being incapacitated from blindness to procure its customary food—­was buried in a sand-hill, and from that moment misfortunes followed the abettors and perpetrators of this inhuman deed.  The detestable hag, who had denounced the inoffensive seal, was, within a twelvemonth, hanged for murdering the illegitimate offspring of her own daughter.  Every thing about this devoted house melted away—­sheep rotted, cattle died, ‘and blighted was the corn.’  Of several children none reached maturity, and the savage proprietor survived every thing he loved or cared for.  He died blind and miserable.