killed fresh-like that morning, had no heart to stir; but here, faith!
'tis a horse of another colour." "May be it is," said Jack, "but the
night's coming on; so I'll turn in. Wake me if you sees any thing; and
after I've got my two hours' rest, I'll relieve you."

With these words the soldier turned on his side, under shelter of a grave,
and as his libations had been rather copious during the day, it was not
long before he gave audible testimony that the dread of supernatural
visitants had had no effect in disturbing the even current of his fancy.
Although Larry had not opposed the proposition of his kinsman, yet he
felt by no means at ease. He put in practice all the usually recommended
nostrums for keeping away unpleasant thoughts:--all would not do. "If it
was a common, dacent, quite (quiet,) well-behaved churchyard a'self,"
thought Larry, half-aloud--"but when 'tis a place like this forsaken ould
berrin'-ground, which is noted for villiany"--"For what, Larry?" said a
gentleman, stepping out of a niche which contained the only statue time
had spared. It was the figure of Saint Colman, to whom the church was
dedicated. Larry had been looking at the figure, as it shone forth in
ebon and ivory in the light and shadow of the now high-careering moon,
"For what, Larry," said the gentleman,--"for what do you say the
churchyard is noted?" "For nothing at all, plase your honour," replied
Larry, "except the height of gentility." The stranger was about four feet
high, dressed in what might be called flowing garments,--if, in spite of
their form, their rigidity did not deprive them of all claim to such an
appellation. He wore an antique mitre upon his head; his hands were
folded upon his breast; and over his right shoulder rested a pastoral
crook. There was a solemn expression in his countenance, and his eye
might truly be called stony. His beard could not be well said to wave
upon his bosom; but it lay upon it in ample profusion, stiffer than that
of a Jew on a frosty morning after mist. In short, as Larry soon