The Ghost of a Flower.
"You're what?" asked the common or garden spook
Of a stranger at midnight's hour.
And the shade replied with a graceful glide,
"Why, I'm the ghost of a flower."
"The ghost of a flower?" said the old-time spook;
"That's a brand-new one on me;
I never supposed a flower had a ghost,
Though I've seen the shade of a tree."
Don Squixet's Ghost.
By Harry Bolingbroke.
"Well, now, spakin' o' Father Doyle, reminds me of the time whin I fust dug his peaytees for him; let me see; I'm sure I don't know how many years agone, now; but faix, 'tis meself was only a big lump of a gurrul thin. Oah! but I'll niver forget that day, if I lives to be as ould as Buckley's goat.
"Me and Biddy Morrissy were diggin' his riv'rince's peay-tees,—'twas about tin o'clock in the mornin',—and turnin' up the painted ladies as purty as iver you see, whin along come the ould rousther, and a half dozen hens wid him, struttin' along, and peckin' the peaytees like fine fellows; and 'twas niver a bit of use in uz sayin' 'whist!' for there the ould hay-then 'ud peck and peck, scratch and scratch, till says I, 'Me boy, I'll soon see whether or no me or you is the better man; so I ups wid a big lump of a peaytee and laves 'im have it in the eye; and over he goes, flipperty-flap, as dead as a herrin'.
"'Och, mallia!' says Biddy, says she; 'now, Kitty, you may
