Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1884-02-15
PATSY GONG'S GHOSTS.

we were on q snail blue lake set Tar
away among the sterile brown moors
of Connemara and the long salmon
rod Law over the gunwale of the boat,
idly trailing behind it forty yards of
line and phantom minnow. Indeed,
the day was much too fine for proper
fishing; one might as well have thrown
a fly over the wood pavement In ran
Mall; it was a day rather for lazlness
and conversation and an inquiry unto
the mysteries of existence, if happily
one or other of my companions had
CHANGED to encounter any OF these IN
this remote and solitary and silent
part Of the country. But Patsy dld
not look like a believer, somehow.
He was a small, red headed Celt, with
shrewd, winkling, gray-blue eyes; and
there was frequently sort OF quiet,
sardonic humor running through his
speech. accompanied now and again
by a good natured grin that overspread
the little, pinehed, sunburnt face.
Moreover, Patsy had seen the world.
In former years he had tried his luck
in America; had been employed on
the Union Pacific Railway as far west
as Council Bluffs; had had a turn at
the Pittsburg iron works, and was
now returning to his native district
with a wide and General knowledge
of mankind On the other hand, his
neighbor at the bow-Tlm Mulcahy
by name-was nothing but ghost
and an echo. He was a small farmer
who came down from his craft III the
hills to exc out his living i'll this way
"a characterless, white-faced, depres-
sed-looking creature, who stared at
his boots, lazily pulled at his oar and
limited his conversation by saying
ditto TO Patsy. That's SO, Patsy.
"Youre right, Patsy" Not wan less
than fourteen salmon did he catch
that day" you're father was good
man, Patsy; he wouldn't tell lie
for hardly anything. That's true
for you, Patsy the like ot him for
minnows, | never saw.
Now, at the head of this om.sll lake
that we were slowly and Idly rowing
round and round, stood a long, low
cottage situated in the middle OF
patch of trees lilac-tinted, leafless
birches and sparkling, darll-green hol-
lies. In summer, no doubt, this must
be very charming place; even now
tho situation was picturesque enough
the still waters of the lake in front;
the trees along the curving shore; and
then, rising far bohlnd into the pale
blue sky, the vast and lonely and arid
mountains known as the Twelve Pins
of Binabola This prettily situated
cottage, however was Enthusiastically
empty. The windows were barred up;
there was look of desolation around :;
not a sound of any kind came from
that scattered grove of birch and
holly.
"The very place TO be haunted by a
lcprechaun, isn't il, Patsy?"
els it Barney Joyce your honor
nanes2' says the instantly loquaclous
Patsy; the man that comes to look
after the house. Well, now, your
honor wouldn't believe what a great
soldier that Barney is-oh, he is the
mighty fine soldier, by the fire. Sure
the battles he'll fight, and the cam
paigns and the strataglms, and the
ginerals, and the marchings, and the
counter marchingsl | niver heard his
aqual, and the divil foot has he liver
stirred out of Connemaraw
But when the house is empty, Pat
sy, isn't there ghost ora goblin some
where aboutT
"Well, indeed, the fairies used to
come there, says Patsy, with indif
ference. They used to say that,
but thin ould stories are all non
sinse."
They're all nonsinse, Patsy, thin
Guild stories, says Echo at the bow.
"Did you ever happen to hear what
they called the King of the Fairies2"
| asked curious to know whether
the Don Flerna of the Blackwater and
the South reigned ais in these western
wilds.
But Patsey was puzzled Then he
turned to Tim Mulcahy and there was
a long consultation in Irish, i'll the
course of which phrase sounding
like Piobara Shec was several times
repeated.
Had they n fairy piper, then, Pat,
sy"
"Begob," says Patsy, eagerly,
that was him. The Fairy Piper
was the King of tnim; and NANNY a
one has heard him playing in that
very house there. | name that was
the old story, sorr, but sure It's all
nonsinse."
And now ensued along and lumbl-
ing general conversation, which need
not be set down here, on the subject
of fairies, phantoms leprechauns and
similar klttIe-Cattle, throughout
which Patsy was evidently ANXIOUS
to show that he had discarded all
such superstitious. Was it for me
who lived i'll an age of reason-who
had worked ON the Union Pacitic-to
heed such folly2 Nevertheless, Patsy
was frankly disposed to- admit that
strange things might have happened
probably did happen-in former
times.
There was a power of witchery in
this country in the ould days" said
Patsy, gravely shaking his mead !;
wis, sorr there was power of
witcherv in this country in the ould
days; kut It's all gone away. Sure
the people are turned more cunning
now"
And then he added, more gloomily:
But maybe there's more going on
than we know"
BY this time it had become pretty
obvious that Patsy's eagerness TO dis
claim all belief in ghosts and witch
cry and the like was assumed--partly,
no doubt, in prudent Difference to the
general opinion of scientific and
skeptical age, but partly, perhaps.
because a man who had been to Pitts
burg felt bound to pose before poor
creature like Tim Mulcahy, who had
Rever left his native mountains. And
so, to find out whether Patsy might
not have some reciprocal confidence
to volunteer, | told him my own
ghost story, after all. That lad of
10 or Ii should look in at the open
door of a dining room aud behold
there a woman seated before the fire;
that he should carefully regard her
shawl and hat and gown, wondering
who she could be; that he should
forthwith go and ask the other people
in the house and bring them to the
door of the room only to discover that
the chair was vacant and that by no
possibility could any stranger have
been there and left; and then to find
that this portent was followed by no
calamity whateyer-neither funeral
nor q weadinv nor anvthinp-fhiS II