LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IX, Issue 1248, 7 March 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

SEEING A GHOST. Aryosy. Did I ever see a ghost ? Well, I can’t say, young ladies, that I ever fairly saw one meself; but I was knowing to a ghost that Norah saw, my sisters’s daughter. Will I toll ye about it ? But, if 1 take up the morning with story-telling, how will my mincemeat get done? Help me, ye say ? Well, now as you be in my kitchen, you two young ladies, if ye will each of you take a knife in your hand, and fall to at paling these apj les, I’ll not say no. A hand or two at the paring of the apples will be a great help to me entirely. Sure I think yer father and mother as gor>d as gold, and J’m doting on ye all, for it’s the good place I have here ; and ye’re a line, growing family, and noble eiters, which keeps me tight to my cooking. But the story, ye say. Well, I’ll sit down here, by yer leave, young ladies, and pick the currants afore T set on to my chopping. There ; and now ye shall hear about the ghost poor Norah saw. My sister Kitty was the oldest of us all; and a mighty gintale, edicated woman she was, for she was born and reated before my father came to his losses with the crops, »nd she took the shine off the whole of us. Kitty married a man by the name of Terrance Cassidy, a joiner to trade, but not strong ; and he died live years after, leaving her with two children, Susan and Norah. Hoth were fair looking girls enough ; but it’s Norah that was the beauty : a gentle, nicelooking child, she was, with a skin like the Idies. My sister Kitty had but little to do with, but she was saving, and struggled along wonderfully. She had a little piace rent free, for it was hers, and she took to teaching the

farmers’ childer round, and one would cut her turf for her and another would haul it home. Some would send potatoes and meal, and some butter and eggs, in payment for the teaching ; and what with one thing and another she managed to rear the childer well, though it was little my poor father could spare her, for we were a large family. Well, as I’m telling ye, young ladies, Norah turned out to be a beauty, fair and pleasant to look upon. Snsey was a goodlooking girl, but nothing to compare with her. Now, ye may be thinking to look at me, that it’s not truth I’m todling, seeing she was my own niece, when I say she was a wonder. I never was to call handsome meself, but I’ve come through a dale, and, being light complected I freckled easy; so with one thing and another, my own mother wouldn’t know me the day. But Norah was not my sort: she had the shape and make and manners of a lady; and scarcely a boy in the parish but was mad in love with her. There we-e two in particular, above all the rest. One was a lad of the name of Tim Connor, whose father had a bit of a farm that Tim and himself managed. But he was a wild sprig of a boy, that would work one day and frolic the next; and my sister Kitty gave him the co l d shoulder. The other was Dan O’Brien, an orphan, who had been reared well : a steady y ung chap, that liked to read books with Norah, and had a good word from everybody. He went to an old soldier that had recaved a terrible grand edication in his youth, and he taught him to keep accounts and other lashings of h arning that I know nothing about. Well, ye see, being so steady and striving so hard after the laming, aud keeping himself neat and genteel, my sister Kitty thought fine things of him, aud always said there was more in his head than the world knew of.

Norah had a way with her of always being smiling aud agreeable, for she had the sweet temper; but she was a shy maiden, and it was hard to make out who she favoured. The two young men wasted no love on one another, as you may be sure, for each was jealous of the other, especially Tim Connor, who knew he was not as good as Dan, One Halloween night there was a gathering of us all at my sister K itty’s, and we sat round the fire trying our luck with burning nuts, naming apple-pips, and such-like, and having great sport entirely. /I wonder where is Dan O’Brien,’ said Kitty, suddenly. ‘ Have any of you seen him the night, boys ? ’ ‘I have,’ says Larry Doolan. ‘He was up at our house with his uncle when I came out. Peter O’Brien has come back from America, and he says it’s a fine place entirely where you have to search for trouble if you want it it, and luck looks for you.’ ‘Clory now,’ says Kitty, ‘if old Peter O’Brien is in Ireland? I hope he’ll come over the length of this, for it’s myself will be glad to see him.’ Well, the words were but out of |her mouth when the door opened and in he walked, Pan behind him. Kitty rose up, and a warm welcome she gave the two. ‘Susy, stir up the fire,’ says she, ‘and. Norah, draw up a chair for Mr O’Brien. I’m glad you’ve come over, Dan, and I’m pleased to see your uncle. Many’s the time I’ve thought of you, Peter, and wondered what had become of ye, away in that hathenish place. ’ Well, the discourse went on betwixt them, as it does between two friends long separated, but we took to our games again. And I ought to be telling ,ye, perhaps, that my sister Kitty was years and years older than me, so that I was like a girl compared to her. Larry Doolan begins; he was always a talker : ‘Here’s two nuts that I’ve named; now watch them, boys, till we see how they’ll make out the gether.’ With that be laid them in the turf blaze, and they burned peaceably till they feU into ashes. * C 'od luck to them, whoever they are,’ said Dan O’Brien. ‘ What names had they, I arry ? ’ ‘ Tim Connor and Norah Cassidy ; no less;’ said Larry, with a mischievous grin. Dan’s face darkened; he gave a short laugh, but said nothing. Norah, whatever got into her I don’t know: but she speaks up with spirit. ‘You have brought me such luck, you must name my apple for me, Larry.’ ‘Troth, I will, says Larry. 4 It’s done.’ Norah counted the pips. ‘ We’ll marry,’ cries she. 4 i ell me, Larry, who it is. ’ Putting his hand to his mouth, he said in a loud whisper that we all heard : * Tim Connor.’ 4 Hold your tongues,’ says Kitty. ‘Norah, I’m fashed wid your noise. It’s a little respect ye have for old friends.’ 4 Uncle,’ says Dan, suddenly, ‘ I’ll go back to America with you. 4 I’ll not say no to you any longer: my mind’s made up—and, boys, if I am living and well, it is there I shall be this night next year. So if that is punch you are serving, Susan, I’ll take a drop to drink the future in.’ 4 Norah’s fun seemed over for that night. She made a great show of throwing an appleparing over her shoulder, and tried to laugh when she put her hand into the empty dish three times when she was blindfolded; but the red rose had left her cheek, and there was a frozen look about her when she said good-night to us all that made me feel uneasy. We had a good job of spinning to do that winter, and my mother being old and poorly, I lo' ked after the meals beside ; so it was nearly a week before I had the chance of getting to Kitty’s again. Snsey was backwards and forwards with a drawing of tea or a cake of white bread for my mother, and I asked her after Norah. ‘She’s middling,’ says Susey. ‘Mother herself thinking she’s got a fever, aud drenches her with balm tea. But Dan O’Brien’s trip to America is working on her more than a fever would, and a word from him would be more to her than all the teas my mother will ever brew ’ 4 Did Norah tell you so ?’ I asked. ‘ No,’says Susey; 4 it’s not ber way to speak out her mind. But as sure »a grass grows and water runs, it’s that that's ailing her.’ that be true, it’s myself that won’t stand by and see poor Norah’s heart break,’ I says to Susan; 4 for I knew they just doted upon on*: another.’ In the evenieg I went over to Larry Doolan’s mother’s, where Dan 4 aud his Uncle Peter were stopping. 4 Good evening to *ye all, and good luck be with ye,’ says 1, going into the kitchen, where Dan and 1 arry with a neighbour or two were sitting round the tire. 4 1 stepped over for a bit of a chat, and to try your new wheel, Mrs Doolan. Don’t stir boys,’ says I, as they were rising, ‘l’ll take a seat here in the corner, and I’ll look to you, Dan, to see me safe the length of my own door.’ kTo he continued. )