the death of his wife, to whom he was most
deeply devoted, he quite forsook general society,
in which his fine features, distinguished bearing,
and charm of conversation marked him out as
the beau-ideal of an Irish wit and scholar of
the old school.

From this society he vanished so entirely that
Dublin, always ready with a nickname, dubbed
him 'The Invisible Prince;' and indeed he was
for long almost invisible, except to his family
and most familiar friends, unless at odd hours
of the evening, when he might occasionally be
seen stealing, like the ghost of his former self,
between his newspaper office and his home in
Merrion Square; sometimes, too, he was to be
encountered in an old out-of-the-way bookshop
poring over some rare black letter Astrology or
Demonology.

To one of these old bookshops he was at one
time a pretty frequent visitor, and the bookseller
relates how he used to come in and ask with
his peculiarly pleasant voice and smile, 'Any
more ghost stories for me, Mr. -----?' and
how, on a fresh one being handed to him, he
would seldom leave the shop until he had looked
it through. This taste for the supernatural
seems to have grown upon him after his wife's
death, and influenced him so deeply that, had he