Weekly Trinity journal., 1877-11-17
THE GHOST.
BY CHARLES LEVER.


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 hearse for Mr.. Callahan
of Cork, for many yeats, and pleasant
place it was tor We see, my father was
cute man, and knew something of the
world and though he was n droll devil
and could sing 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 tho high box with tho
six long-tailed blacks before him, you'd
really think it was his own mother was
inside, he looked 50 melancholy and mis-
erablc. Tho sexton and grave digger was
nothing to my father and he had n look
about his eye, to be sure there was rea-
son for it, that you'd think he was up all
night crying though it's little Indulgence
he took that way.
"Woll, of all Mr.. Calahan's men,
there was none so great tavorito as my
| lhtH6I tHo HSlSuDoIo Wolo ui iOhu VI
him.
"A kind crayture every inch of him.
tho women would say. did ye SEQ his
face at Mrs. Delany's funeral? ?"
"True for you, another would rernark
he mistook tho road with grief, and stop
ped Mt shebeen- n-houso instead of kilmur-
ry church,
" | need say no more, only one thing,
that it was principally among tho farm
ers and the country people my iathor was
liked SO much. Tho great people and
the quality AK your pardon-but sure
isn't it true, Mister Charles, they don't
fret so much after their fathers and broth
ers, aud they care little who's driving
them, whether it was n decent rospecta-
Bile man like my father, or chap with
grin on him like rat-trap? And so it
happened, tina. my father used to travel
half the country going here and there
wherever there was trade stirring and
taix, man didn't think himself rightly
buticd if my father wasn't there for ye
see he knew all about it ; ho could tell to
quart Of spirits what would be wanting
for wake; he knew all the good cryers
for miles around and Sl We heard it was
beautiful sight to see him standing ON
hill, arranging the procession, us they
walked into the churchyard and giving
the word like n captain.
80 Come on, the stiil-now tho friends
Of the stll-now the pop Lace
That's what ho used to say and,
troth, he was always repeating it when
he was n little gone in drink-ior that's
the time his spirits would rse-and he'd
. think he was burying half Munster.
, "And sure it was real pleasure and n
pride to be buried in them times ; for av
it was only small farmer with potato
: garden, my father would come down with
g tho blucll cloak on him, and three yards
t of Grape behind his hat, and set all the
n children crying and yelling for half n
# mile round and then the way he'd walk
q before them with n spade on his shoulder,
}, and sticking it down IN the ground, clap
i his hat or tho top Of it, to make it look
: like chief mourner. 1t was beautiful
sight /"
4 "But, Mike, if you indulge much long
+ er in this Aattering recollection Of your
q father, I'm afraid we shall lose sight OF
the ghost entirely"
"No fear in life, your honor, | IN com
ing to him now. Well, it was this way
it happened in the winter Of the great
frost, about forty-two or forty y-threo years
ago, the ould prie,t of Tulloughmuray
D., took i'll and died he was sixty years
priest Of the parish, and nightly belov-
ed by all the people, and good reason for
it +; pleasanter man, and more social
crayturo never lived twas himself was
the lie of the whole country side. A we'd
, ding nor a christening wasn't lucky nv
he wasn't there, sitting at the top Of the
table, with maybe his arm round the
bride herself or tho baby in his lap, n
smoking jug of punch before him, and as
much kindness in his eyes rs would make
the fortunes of twenty hypOcrites if they
: had it among them. And then he was
so good to the poor Priory was always
full of ould men aud ould women, sitting
around the big fire in the kitchen, so tina.
, the cook could hardly get near it. There
they were eating their meals and burn
ing their shns, till they were speckled
like trout's back, and grumbling all the
time but Father Dwyer liked them,
> and he would have them.
,, 90 Where have they to go,' he'd say,
| 'av it wasn't to me give Molly Kinshe.
Ia a lock of that bacon. Tim, it's cowld
this morning5 will ye have taste Of the
, , "dew ?"
"Ah, that's the way he'd spake TO them;
= but sure goodness is no warrant for liy-
ing, any more :han deyiment ; and so
he got cowld in his feet at station, and
he rode home IN the heavy snow without
his big coat-for he gave it away to a
blind man on the road-and in three days
he was dead.
T 81 see you're getting impatient SO III
= not stop TO say what grief WAS in the par
sh when it was known /; but troth there
Q never was seen the like before, not cray
ture would lift spade for two days, and
there was more whisky sold in that time
n than at the whole spring fair. Well, on
, the third day, the flneral set out, and
r never was the equal oft in them parts
r first, there was my father, he came spe-
8 ciaI from Cork with the six horses all in
q new black, and plumes like little poplar
= trees then came Father Dwyer, follow
ed bv the two coadiutors in beautiful sur.