218 BUFFALO LAND. 



fully engraved on it. Maybe the dead man in the boat 

 had been bringing him from some strange land to the 

 childer at home, and thinking how the odd name 

 would please them all, when the shadows were dart- 

 ing around his hearth. And so Goblin howled his wav 

 through the world, till one full moon eve, when every 

 bog was shinin' as if the peat was silver. Such times, 

 any way in old Ireland, your honors, the air is full of 

 unwholesome spirits. This was good as a wake for 

 Goblin, and I can just hear him now the way he cried 

 and howled that night! He kept both eyes fixed on 

 the moon, and no mortal man, livin' or dead, will ever 

 know what he saw, but when he howled out worse nor 

 common that night, it meant, may be, that some witch, 

 uglier than the rest, had just whisked across the shin- 

 in' sky. Just at midnight, I was waked out of a 

 swate sleep by the quietness without, the way a mil- 

 ler is when his mill stops. I looked out of the win- 

 dow at the dog where he sat, an', faith, the clog was n't 

 there at all ! Just then I heard a despairin' sort of 

 howl, away up in the air above the trees, an' by that 

 token I knew the witches had Goblin. Xextmornin', 

 one of the lads livin' convanientto us told me he had 

 heard the same crv in the middle of the night, the cry, 

 your honors, of the poor beast as the witches carried 

 him off. Afore the week was out, Goblin's collar was 

 tbund on the gamekeeper's grave ; that was all — not a 

 hair else of him was ever seen in old Ireland." 



As Shamus concluded his veracious narrative he 

 looked around upon us with an air of triumph, as if 

 satisfied that even Sachem dare not now dispute the 



second sight of the canine race. 



