Year: 1873

and went straight to the grave O


Capt. Percivol. There stood the grave
ftone, sure enough, with the captain,
name, age and date of death upon it
and short story besides, setting fortl
what good and brave fellow he was
which was all as true as gospel. Bu
there was no grave-digger there, nor nc
open grave, as Tim had fancied. I wen
back and found Tim and the doctor to
gether, Tim not looking quite so wild
and white as before, but bad and i'll, al
the same.


"' Well p inquired the DOCTOR


"tWellp I replied, There's moth.
ing to be seen. It's just as I thought
Poor Tins fancy has cheated, and it's
| my opinion the poor boy is not well al
all. And what am to do about report
ing him p


"sYou must report him, of course,
said the doctor, but 1 don't think
much harm will come to him out OF
that. OLochlin, you must go into hos
you some stuff that Will bring you out
again right as a trivet, and you will see
no more ghosts


I" Tim shook his head, and was taken
quietly to the hospital, and put to bed.
The brandy had done him good; whether
it was all brandy, or whether there
wasn't drop of sleeping stuff in it,
can't say, but it's very likely there was,
for the doctor told me the longer he
slept in reason the better it would be
for him. And Tim had long sleep.
but not a very quiet one, for all that
same, and tossed about for the matter of
dozen hours or so. But he never got
out of bed again. When I saw him at
noon the next day he was wide awake,
and very feverish and excitable.


"s How are you, Tim, my poor fell
very hot and moist.


I've seen him again. he replied.
g 1 see him now. He is sitting at the
foot of the bed and pointing to the
graveyard. I know what he means.


6. '.'Tim, it's crazy that ye are,
said 1.


sHe shook his head mournfully.
Monaghan, he sighed rather than said,
tye've been good friend to me. Give
that to the little girl in Ireland-you
know And he drew Photographic
portrait of himself from under his pill
low, tied round with ablue ribbon, from
which depended a crooked sixpence
with hole in it. In few days you'll
be laying me In the ground alongside of
the Captain. Do ye see him now! he
is leaving the room, smiling upon me,
and still pointing to the graveyard. L
am no longer afraid of him. He
means me no harm, and it is no blame
to him if he is sent to tell me to get
ready


"fTim, you are cheating yourself
What you're telling me is all a waking
drame. / can see no ghost.


"'Of course you can't said Tim,
the spirits never appear to two per-
sons at once. But Patrick Monaghan
he added, let us talk no more on the
subject, but send Father Riley to me,
that may unburden my sowl and die in
peace.


" 1t would have been cruel in me to
have argued the matter with the poor
afflicted creature, and him such friend
of my own, too, so left him to go in
search of the doctor first, and of Father
Riley afterward They both came.
What passed between Tim and the holy
father, of course, never knew but the
doctor told me distinctly that Tim was
in very bad way. The stomach was
wrong, the brain was wrong; in fact, he
was wrong altogether, and had a fever
which the doctor called by very grand
and high-sounding name, which did
not hear very plainly, and which, if 1
did, am unable to remember. Tim
survived three DAYS after this, sleeping
and dozing, and talking in his sleep,
and every now and then saying, amid
words which I could not well put to-
gether into any meaning, am coming,
/ am coming just before he died he
grew more collected, and made me
promise that he should be buried in the
grave that had been dug for him by the
side of the Captain. I knew that no such
grave had been dug as he said, and that
It was all delusion but what was the
use of arguing with dying man? So
promised, of course, by my honor and
by my sowl, to do all could to have his
last wish gratifed. The doctor promised
also, and SO did Father Riley, and
think poor Tim died happy. His last
words were something about the ribbon
and the crooked sixpence, and the Cap
tain, the very last syllable being, I
come


sc We buried the poor lad in the place
assigned by himself, and was so affect
ed altogether by the sadness of the
thing that I could have persuaded my
self, in fact / did persuade myself, that
I saw Capt. Percival in undress, or ia
tigue uniform, just as he had appeared
to poor Tim walking past the sentry-box
before the door of the Government
House, and stopping every now and
then to point at the grave; and the more
closed my eyes to avoid seeing him,
the more permanently and clearly he
stood before me.


"And are you in any doubt on the sub
ject now ?' I inquired.


"And indeed am," replied the SER
geant, shaking the ashes from his cigar
with the tip of his little finger. "Tim
must have seen the ghost, and must
have believed in him, and if only saw
it after Tins death, it is but another
proof of what almost everybody knows,
that two people never saw the same
ghost at the same time. And ghost or
no ghost, it is quite clear that Tim died
of him, and might have been alive at
this moment but for the ghosts extraor-
binary behavior. But it's one of the
questions that all the talk in the world
can't SETTLE


''Do you think Tim would have seen
the ghost of Capt. Percival, or anybody
else, if he had been sound in mind and
limb, if he had been strong, hearty man
with good appetite, and an undisor-
dered stomach %


"Can't say" replied the sergeant, tax
ing sip of his liquor. The doctor