Oh, then, how would I know
Oh, then, how would I know? she answered. But it must be a wond-herful long time ago, for the housekeeper was an ould woman, withpipe in her mouth, and not a tooth left, and better nor eighty years ouldwhen my mother was first married; and they said she was a rale buxomfine-dressed woman when the ould Judge come to his end; an, indeedmy mother's not far from eighty years ould herself this day; and whatmade it worse for the unnatural ould villain, God rest his soul, to fright-en the little girl out of the world the way he did, was what was mostlythought and believed by every one. My mother says how the poor littlecrathure was his own child: for he was by all accounts an ould villainground y, an' the hangin est judge that ever was known in Ireland's%o From what you sad about the danger of sleeping in that bedroom,"d I,I suppose there were stories about the ghost having appearedthere to othersWell, there was things said--quare things, surely, she answered, as itseemed, with some reluctance. And why would not there? Sure was itnot up in that same room he slept for more than twenty years? and was itnot in the alcove he got the rope ready that done his own business at last.the way he done many a betther man s in his lifetime?-and was not thebody lying in the same bed after death, and put in the coffin there, too,and carried out to his grave from it in Pether's churchyard, after the cor-oner was done? But there was quare storics-my mother has therall-about how one Nicholas Spaight got into trouble on the head of it.And what did they say of this Nicholas Spaight? I askedOh, for that mather, it's soon told, she answered.And she certainly did relate a very strange story, which so piqued mycuriosity, that I took occasion to visit the ancient lady, her mother, fromwhom I learned many very curious particulars. Indeed, I am tempted totell the tale, but my fingers are weary, and I must defer it. But if youwish to hear it another time, I shall do my best.When w'e had heard the strange tale I have not told wou, w'e put one orwo further questions to her about the alleged spectral visitations, towhich the house had, ever since the death of the wicked old Judge, beenobjectedNo one ever had luck in it, she told us.
There was always cross accidents, sudden deaths, and short times in it. The first that tuck, it was afamily-I forget their name-but at any rate there was two young ladiesand their papa. He was about sixty, and a stout healthy gentleman asyoud wish to see at that age. Well, he slept in that unlucky back bed-room; and, God between us an harm! sure enough he was found deadone moming half out of the bed, with his head as black as a sloe, andswelled like a puddin, hanging down near the floor. It was a fit, theysaid. He was as dead as a mackerel, and so he could not say what it wasbut the ould people was all sure that it was nothing at all but the ouldJudge, God bless us! that frightened him out of his senses and his life
Some time after there was a rich old maiden lady took the housedont know which room she slept in, but she lived alone; and at any rate,one moming, the servants going down early to their work, found her sitting on the passage-stafrs, shivering and talkin to herself, quite mad; andnever a word more could any of them or her friends get from her ever af-terwards but, Don't ask me to go, for I promised to wait for him. Theynever made out from her who it was she meant by him, but of coursethose that knew all about the ould house were at no loss for the meaningof all that happened to herThen afterwards, when the house was let out in lodgings, there wasMicky Byne that took the same room, with his wife and three little chil-dren; and sure I heard Mrs. Byrne myself telling how the children usedto be lifted up in the bed at night, she could not see by what mains; andhow they were starting and screeching every hour, just all as one as thehousekeeper's little girl that died, till at last one night poor Micky had adrop in him, the way he used now and again; and what do you think inthe middle of the night he thought he heard a noise on the stairs, and be-ing in liquor, nothing less id do him but out he must go himself to seewhat was wrong. Well, after that, all she ever heard of him was himselfsayin, Oh, God! and a tumble that shook the very house; and there, sureenough, he was lying on the lower stairs, under the lobby, with his necksmashed double under him, where he was flung over the banistersThen the handmaiden added-I'l go down to the lane, and send up joe Garvey to pack up the rest ofthe taythings, and bring all the things across to your new lodgingsAnd so we all sallied out together, each of us breathing more freely, Ihave no doubt, as w'e crossed that ill-omened threshold for the last timeo Now, I may add thus much, in compliance with the immemorial usagethe realm of fiction, which sees the hero not only through his adventures, but fairly out of the world. You must have perceived that what theflesh, blood, and bone hero of romance proper is to the regularpounder of fiction, this old house of brick, wood, and mortar is tohumble recorder of this true tale. I, therefore, relate, as in dutybound, the catastrophe which ultimately befell it, which was simplythis-that about two years subsequently to my story it was taken by aquack doctor, who called himself Baron Duhlstoerf, and filled the parour windows with bottles of indescribable horrors preserved in brandy,and the newspapers with the usual grandiloquent and mendacious ad-vertisements. This gentleman among his virtues did not reckon sobrietyand one night, being overcome with much wine, he set fire to his bedcurtains, partially burned himself, and totally consumed the house. Itwas afterwards rebuilt, and for a time an undertaker established himselfin the premisesI have now told you my own and Tom's adventures, together withsome valuable collateral particulars; and having acquitted myself of myengagement, I wish you a very good night, and pleasant dreams
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