The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1874-10-27
moment; then, after long whistle, con-

it's myself that will watch at the ould
church porch, and if the villain isn't too
onpleasantly fat for sperrit, musha who
knows but may be I'll see John Thomas's
dirty ghost.
Now it SO happened, by some strange
coincidence, that while Patty Pride was
dressing my lady's hair, the mistress and
maid were involuntarily rejecting, deeply
and seriously, upon the same subject, and
that subject was the all-engrossing one,
"The Legend of st. Mark" learned by my
lady in the quaint verses of the rare old
volume, and by Patty--with sundry edify-
ing and marvellous additions--from the grim
looking sexton, Adam Mould.
But Patty made up her mind to have
ocular demonstrations that very night
being melted thereto by the reflection that
if either of her lovers waa fated, she ought
to know it.
1t therefore happened that about half
past eleven that night that the five persons
mentioned in this story, had thoughts as
follows
"Now for my great coat p thought the
baronet, as he left the library.
"I am determined" whispered my lady,
as she passed unseen across the terrace.
"Hit his lawful, but that Hirishman
drives me to it," stammered John Thomas,
swallowing reeking tumbler of brandy
and water and thrusting flask of the un-
adulterated fluid into his pocket.
"Be dad I'll take this with me-" ejacu-
lated Con Sweeny, picking up "a darlint of
twig; "who knows-faith there may
be shindy if so, I'm convanient.
"I won't wear my thin shoes, and I've
got the catechism in my pocket" pru-
IDENTIFY and piously exclaimed Patty.
| #' 49,.
Both husband and wife with bated
breath had looked upon what each supposed
to be the apparition of the other and fled
from the scene. f t..
A shrek, like the death-scream of hope,
struck upon the ear of poor John Thomas.
1t was, to his horror, answered by yell
whose Irish accent admitted of no doubt.
Struggling with fear and agony, the but
ler's gaze fell on the excited visage of the
"Hirish" rival. The graves shook beneath
his ponderous feetness, and the air was
loaded with his fat breath, which found
vent in the few but emphatic words
"Booked by fast coach hat very
hearty hour"
The shout, impregnated with the Gal
way accent, had scarcely ceased before a
voice, rich with the same perfection, ex-
claimed
"Come back, you villain sperrit or no
sperrit, Pm your man. Is it gone, he is ?
by this and by that-that's John Thomas's
ghost ; and as far as looks and running go,
the moral of himself. Hurrah ! Ould Ire
land forever and" here remembering
where he was, Con commenced repeating
his prayers, and his retreating figure was
soon lost in the distance.
"Poor fellows both doomed" exclaim-
ed Patty, as she came from her hiding
place and hurried away.
CHAPTER III.
Twelve months have passed twelve
months? Twelve letters sum them up,
but oh what worlds of hopes and fears,
sorrows and joys, are bounded in the
words
Twelve months have passed, and howP
The legend of st. Mark seemed strange
ly, awfully borne out. The "sheeted
dead' had, as they each supposed, appear
ed to the several terrified visitors to the
old church-yard, and the thonght of the
approaching dissolution of the formerly
contending parties had the most salutary
results. Small acts Of kindness, at first
performed from the questionable feeling
"that it couldn't be for long" became in
a short time habitual, positive pleasures
Oh, how deeply was every past unkind
thought, word and look, regretted
Sir Methusalah would gaze for hours on
his young and beautiful wife, and brood
over the slightest tone which had formerly
thrilled upon his heart and as the bitter
conviction that he must lose her rushed to
his mind, the hot tears would gather in his
eyes and foretaste of his coming desola-
tion make him quiver with exquisite
agony and Lady Rust would rivet her
sweet blue eyes upon his face, and as busy
memory recalled his nobleness to herself,
his generosity to her family, his forbear-
ance at her unworthy petulance, and the
justness Of his kind remonstrances, with
ering shudder would rush through her
heart, as she thought on the fatal omen
she had seen, and she would throw her