Long ago tailors used to travel from house to house mending and making clothes, as the case may be. One may-Eve one of these little tailors put up for the night at a cottage near Duagh, wherein lived an old hag of a woman. After supper, the tailor turned in and slept like a Trojan till about 4 a-m. He pricked his ears when he heard the old hag shuffling about in a room nearby, and before he knew what was happening, she issued from her room clad in a hideous black cloak which surely belonged, or came from his Satanic Majesty. She moved over to the settle-bed to make sure our friend was in Slumberland. Being sure of this, she started operations, she took a box of ointment from behind a rafter and signed herself with the left hand on the forehead. When she replaced the box She assumed the form of a hare and show a clear pair of heels out of the door. The tailor at once made up his mind that she would have a