0*44 The Ghost of Kilshedan. [JuNE, 



watching him. In a minute, she knew the gallows-look of him it was 

 Kit Cooney that had hung her own flesh an' blood, till they were high 

 an' dry as a side o' bacon. To be sure, the poor woman was frightened 

 enough, but she was very stout, an' didn't let on, an' accordingly, she 

 came out with the noggin, an' when he drank it off, she sat down oppo- 

 site him, an' asked him would he stop the night, as her husband would 

 be home in a few minutes,, an' would be glad to see ony one that could 

 tell him about the castle, an' the parliament house, an' the bridges, an' the 

 lord-mayor, an' all the fine sights of Dublin. ' No, thank 'ee/ says he, 

 ' I must be in Golden to night I 've got all I wanted from you.' ' Faith 

 you have,' says she to herself again, ' but whatever it is, it's more nor a 

 drink o' buttermilk.' 



" Well, Sir, the man left her, an' she sat down waitin' for her husband, 

 quite melancholly like, an' wondrin' what in the world it was that 

 Cooney had taken from behind the hob ; she sarched it mighty cutely, 

 but if she was looking from that day to this, not a ha'p'orth she 

 could find, but an empty hole, an' nothing in it. 



" Ten o'clock struck eleven o'clock struck, an' no Paddy was yet 

 come home so to comfort herself, she sat down to make a cup of tay, 

 an' to make it strong she determined to put a stick (a glass of whiskey) 

 in it. She had the bread an' the butter, an' the whiskey bottle, an' the 

 tay-pot laid comfortably on the settle-bed, an' there she was sittin' on a 

 creepeen (little stool) beside it, when the clock struck twelve the very 

 instant it did, she heard the drawing-room door open an' tramp 

 tramp tramp, she heard two feet comin' down stairs an' whack 

 whack whack went a stick against the bannisters, as if somebody, who 

 was lame, was hobbling down toher r as well as his two legs on' a stick 

 would carry him. To be sure the poor woman was frightened enough 

 she knew it could not be Paddy ; for if he had a stick in his fist, he 

 would be more likely to knock it against a man's head than an ould 

 wooden bannister. ' The Lord save us !' says she to herself, ' is this 

 Kit Cooney's comin' back to massacree me.' ' Halloa !' She then called 

 out, ' You vagabone, whoever you are, don't be afraid to shew your 

 face to an honester woman than ever your mother was/ Devil an 

 answer she got. ' Oh,' says she, ' maybe it's nobody at all 111 take 

 another cup o' tay 't any rate.' She had just filled it out, an' put the 

 second stick in it, an' was maixin' it with a spoon, when she turned up 

 her eyes, an' who in the world should she see leaning over the settle-bed, 

 an' lookin' quite cantankerous, an' doleful at the same time at her, but 

 the Major himself! ! ! There he was in the very same dress that she had 

 seen on him the very last day he was out with the Tipperary militia. 



" He had on him a cocked hat that was, at least, three feet broad, 

 an' two gold bands on it, that were glistenin' as grandly as if they had 

 only that minute come out o' the shop, an' had never got a drop a rain 

 on them then he had a large black leather stock on his neck, an' a grand 

 red officer's coat, that between the green that it was turned up with, an' 

 the gold that was shinin' all over it, you could hardly tell what colour it 

 was his shirt was as fine as silk, an' fringed with beautiful tuckers an' 

 then, the leather-breeches on his thin ould legs were as white as the 

 driven snow, an' his boots that came up to his knee were as black an' 

 polished as a craw's neck. The major, in fact, was dressed out in the 

 very shute that he went up to Dublin to get made for himself, an' that 



