more than a week or two. They do not give any definite reason as to why
they are leaving; they are careful to state that it is not because they
have any fault to find with me or my domestic arrangements, but they
merely say _they do not like the rooms_! The rooms themselves, as you can
see, are good, spacious, and well lighted. I have had all classes of
professional men; one of the last was a barrister, and he said that he
had no fault to find except that _he did not like the rooms_! I myself do
not believe in ghosts, and I have never seen anything strange here or
elsewhere; and if I had known the house had the reputation of being
haunted, I would never have rented it."

Marsh's library, that quaint, old-world repository of ponderous tomes, is
reputed to be haunted by the ghost of its founder, Primate Narcissus
Marsh. He is said to frequent the inner gallery, which contains what was
formerly his own private library: he moves in and out among the cases,
taking down books from the shelves, and occasionally throwing them down
on the reader's desk as if in anger. However, he always leaves things in
perfect order. The late Mr. ----, who for some years lived in the
librarian's rooms underneath, was a firm believer in this ghost, and said
he frequently heard noises which could only be accounted for by the
presence of a nocturnal visitor; the present tenant is more sceptical.
The story goes that Marsh's niece eloped from the Palace, and was married
in a tavern to the curate of Chapelizod. She is reported to have written
a note consenting to the elopement, and to have then placed it in one of
her uncle's books to which her lover had access, and where he found it.
As a punishment for his lack of vigilance, the Archbishop is said to be
condemned to hunt for the note until he find it--hence the ghost.

The ghost of a deceased Canon was seen in one of the Dublin cathedrals
by several independent witnesses, one of whom, a lady, gives her own