se
things--"

"But sure my father did, and that's the same any day. My father seen the
greatest ghost that ever was seen in the county Cork, and spent the evening
with him, that's more."

"Spent the evening with him!--what do you mean?"

"Just that, devil a more nor less. If your honor wasn't so weak, and the
story wasn't a trying one, I'd like to tell it to you."

"Out with it by all means, Mike; I am not disposed to sleep; and now that
we are upon these matters, my curiosity is strongly excited by your worthy
father's experience."

Thus encouraged, having trimmed the fire and reseated himself beside the
blaze, Mike began; but as a ghost is no every-day personage in our history,
I must give him a chapter to himself.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE GHOST.

"Well, I believe your honor heard me tell long ago how my father left the
army, and the way that he took to another line of life that was more to his
liking. And so it was, he was happy as the day was long; he drove a hearse
for Mr. Callaghan of Cork for many years, and a pleasant place it was; for
ye see, my father was a 'cute man, and knew something of the world; and
though he was a droll devil, and could sing a funny song when he was among
the boys, no sooner had he the big black cloak on him and the weepers, and
he seated on the high box with the six long-tailed blacks before him, you'd
really think it was his own mother was inside, he looked so melancholy and
miserable. The sexton and gravedigger was nothing to my father; and he had
a look about his eye--to be sure there was a reason for it--that you'd
think he was up all night crying; though it's little indulgence he took
that way.

"Well, of all Mr. Callaghan's men, there was none so great a favorite as my
father. The neighbors were all fond of him.

"'A kind crayture, every inch of him!' the women would say. 'Did ye see his
face at Mrs. Delany's funeral?'

"'True for you,' another would remark; 'he mistook the road with grief, and
stopped at a shebeen house instead of Kilmurry church.'

"I need say no more, only one thing,--that it was principally among the
farmers and the country people my father was liked so much. The great
people and the quality--ax your pardon; but sure isn't it true, Mister
Charles?--they don't fret so much after their fathers and brothers, and
they care little who's driving them, whether it was a decent, respectable
man like my father, or a chap with a grin on him like a rat-t