“For several years after I dismissed the matter as a delusion; but when I told the story to some cousins, they said that another relative (now a Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin) had heard it too, and that there was a local belief that it was the ghost of a poacher mortally wounded by gamekeepers, who escaped across the road and died beyond it.”  Mr. Westropp afterwards got the relative mentioned above to tell his experience, and it corresponded with his own, except that the ghost was visible.  “The clergyman who was rector of Greystones at that time used to say that he had heard exactly similar noises though he had seen nothing.”

The following story of an occurrence near Dublin is sent us by a lady who is a very firm believer in ghosts.  On a fine night some years ago two sisters were returning home from the theatre.  They were walking along a very lonely part of the Kimmage Road about two miles beyond the tram terminus, and were chatting gaily as they went, when suddenly they heard the “clink, clink” of a chain coming towards them.  At first they thought it was a goat or a donkey which had got loose, and was dragging its chain along the ground.  But they could see nothing, and could hear no noise but the clink of the chain, although the road was clear and straight.  Nearer and nearer came the noise, gradually getting louder, and as it passed them closely they distinctly felt a blast or whiff of air.  They were paralysed with an indefinable fear, and were scarcely able to drag themselves along the remaining quarter of a mile to their house.  The elder of the two was in very bad health, and the other had almost to carry her.  Immediately she entered the house she collapsed, and had to be revived with brandy.

An old woman, it seems, had been murdered for her savings by a tramp near the spot where this strange occurrence took place, and it is thought that there is a connection between the crime and the haunting of this part of the Kimmage Road.  Whatever the explanation may be, the whole story bears every evidence of truth, and it would be hard for anyone to disprove it.

Churchyards are generally considered to be the hunting-ground of all sorts and conditions of ghosts.  People who would on all other occasions, when the necessity arises, prove themselves to be possessed of at any rate a normal amount of courage, turn pale and shiver at the thought of having to pass through a churchyard at dead of night.  It may be some encouragement to such to state that out of a fairly large collection of accounts of haunted places, only one relates to a churchyard.  The story is told by Mr. G. H. Millar of Edgeworthstown:  “During the winter of 1875,” he writes, “I attended a soiree about five miles from here.  I was riding, and on my way home about 11.30 P.M.  I had to pass by the old ruins and burial-ground of Abbeyshrule.  The road led round by two sides of the churchyard.  It was a bright moonlight night, and as my girth broke