I’m sure I can’t tell why; maybe the drop
of drink I took got into my head. Well, I was
just jogging on across the common; the rain beating
hard in my face, and my clothes pasted to me with the
wet; notwithstanding, I was singing to myself a verse
of an old song, to lighten the road, when I heard
suddenly a noise near me, like a man sneezing.
I stopped and listened,—in fact, it was
impossible to see your hand, the night was so dark—but
I could hear nothing; the thought then came over me,
maybe it’s something ‘not good,’
for there were very ugly stories going about what
the priests used to do formerly in these meadows;
and bones were often found in different parts of them.
Just as I was thinking this, another voice came nearer
than the last; it might be only a sneeze, after all;
but in real earnest it was mighty like a groan.
‘The Lord be about us,’ I said to myself,
’what’s this?—have ye the pass?’
I cried out, ’have ye the pass? or what brings
ye walking here, in nomine patri?’ for I was
so confused whether it was a ‘sperit’ or
not, I was going to address him in Latin—there’s
nothing equal to the dead languages to lay a ghost,
every body knows. Faith the moment I said these
words he gave another groan, deeper and more melancholy
like than before. ‘If it’s uneasy
ye are,’ says I, ’for any neglect of your
friends,’ for I thought he might be in purgatory
longer than he thought convenient, ’tell me
what you wish, and go home peaceably out of the rain,
for this weather can do no good to living or dead;
go home,’ said I, ’and, if it’s
masses ye’d like, I’ll give you a day’s
pay myself, rather than you should fret yourself this
way.’ The words were not well out of my
mouth, when he came so near me that the sigh he gave
went right through both my ears; ‘the Lord be
merciful to me,’ said I, trembling. ‘Amen,’
says he, ‘whether you’re joking or not.’
The moment he said that my mind was relieved, for
I knew it was not a sperit, and I began to laugh heartily
at my mistake; ‘and who are ye at all?’
said I, ’that’s roving about, at this
hour of the night, ye can’t be Father Luke, for
I left him asleep on the carpet before I quitted the
college, and faith, my friend, if you hadn’t
the taste for divarsion ye would not be out now?’
He coughed then so hard that I could not make out well
what he said, but just perceived that he had lost
his way on the common, and was a little disguised
in liquor. ‘It’s a good man’s
case,’ said I, ’to take a little too much,
though it’s what I don’t ever do myself;
so, take a hold of my hand, and I’ll see you
safe.’ I stretched out my hand, and got
him, not by the arm, as I hoped, but by the hair of
the head, for he was all dripping with wet, and had
lost his hat. ’Well, you’ll not be
better of this night’s excursion,’ thought
I, ’if ye are liable to the rheumatism; and,
now, whereabouts do you live, my friend, for I’ll
see you safe, before I leave you?’ What he
said then I never could clearly make out, for the