"Then after all, this was a mere dream!" said the inquisitive
gentleman.

"The divil a bit of a dream!" replied the Irishman: "there never was a
truer fact in this world. Faith, I should have liked to see any man
tell my grandfather it was a dream."

Well, gentlemen, as the clothes-press was a mighty heavy body, and my
grandfather likewise, particularly in rear, you may easily suppose two
such heavy bodies coming to the ground would make a bit of a noise.
Faith, the old mansion shook as though it had mistaken it for an
earthquake. The whole garrison was alarmed. The landlord, who slept
just below, hurried up with a candle to inquire the cause, but with all
his haste his daughter had hurried to the scene of uproar before him.
The landlord was followed by the landlady, who was followed by the
bouncing bar-maid, who was followed by the simpering chambermaids all
holding together, as well as they could, such garments as they had
first lain hands on; but all in a terrible hurry to see what the devil
was to pay in the chamber of the bold dragoon.

My grandfather related the marvellous scene he had witnessed, and the
prostrate clothes-press, and the broken handles, bore testimony to the
fact. There was no contesting such evidence; particularly with a lad of
my grandfather's complexion, who seemed able to make good every word
either with sword or shillelah. So the landlord scratched his head and
looked silly, as he was apt to do when puzzled. The landlady
scratched--no, she did not scratch her head,--but she knit her brow,
and did not seem half pleased with the explanation. But the landlady's
daughter corroborated it by recollecting that the last person who had
dwelt in that chamber was a famous juggler who had died of St. Vitus's