True Irish Ghost Stories | Page 9

pickle was put into it, and a fish placed on the cover of the crock. He
threw the fish out.
Silver teaspoons were missing, and no account of them could be got
until Mrs. A---- asked Corney to confess if he had done anything with
them. He said, "They are under the ticking in the servants' bed." He had,
so he said, a daughter in ---- Street, and sometimes announced that he
was going to see her, and would not be here to-night.
On one occasion he announced that he was going to have "company"
that evening, and if they wanted any water out of the soft-water tank, to
take it before going to bed, as he and his friends would be using it.
Subsequently that night five or six distinct voices were heard, and next
morning the water in the tank was as black as ink, and not alone that,
but the bread and butter in the pantry were streaked with the marks of
sooty fingers.
A clergyman in the locality, having heard of the doings of Corney,
called to investigate the matter. He was advised by Mrs. A---- to keep
quiet, and not to reveal his identity, as being the best chance of hearing
Corney speak. He waited a long time, and as the capricious Corney
remained silent, he left at length. The servants asked, "Corney, why did
you not speak?" and he replied, "I could not speak while that good man
was in the house." The servants sometimes used to ask him where he
was. He would reply, "The Great God would not permit me to tell you.
I was a bad man, and I died the death." He named the room in the house
in which he died.
Corney constantly joined in any conversation carried on by the people
of the house. One could never tell when a voice from the coal-cellar

would erupt into the dialogue. He had his likes and dislikes: he
appeared to dislike anyone that was not afraid of him, and would not
talk to them. Mrs. C.'s mother, however, used to get good of him by
coaxing. An uncle, having failed to get him to speak one night, took the
kitchen poker, and hammered at the door of the coal-cellar, saying, "I'll
make you speak"; but Corney wouldn't. Next morning the poker was
found broken in two. This uncle used to wear spectacles, and Corney
used to call him derisively, "Four-eyes." An uncle named Richard came
to sleep one night, and complained in the morning that the clothes were
pulled off him. Corney told the servants in great glee, "I slept on
Master Richard's feet all night."
Finally Mr. A---- made several attempts to dispose of his lease, but
with no success, for when intending purchasers were being shown over
the house and arrived at Corney's domain, the spirit would begin to
speak and the would-be purchaser would fly. They asked him if they
changed house would he trouble them. He replied, "No! but if they
throw down this house, I will trouble the stones."
At last Mrs. A---- appealed to him to keep quiet, and not to injure
people who had never injured him. He promised that he would do so,
and then said, "Mrs. A----, you will be all right now, for I see a lady in
black coming up the street to this house, and she will buy it." Within
half an hour a widow called and purchased the house. Possibly Corney
is still there, for our informant looked up the Directory as he was
writing, and found the house marked "Vacant."
Near Blanchardstown, Co. Dublin, is a house, occupied at present, or
up to very recently, by a private family; it was formerly a monastery,
and there are said to be secret passages in it. Once a servant ironing in
the kitchen saw the figure of a nun approach the kitchen window and
look in. Our informant was also told by a friend (now dead), who had it
from the lady of the house, that once night falls, no doors can be kept
closed. If anyone shuts them, almost immediately they are flung open
again with the greatest violence and apparent anger. If left open there is
no trouble or noise, but light footsteps are heard, and there is a vague
feeling of people passing to and fro. The persons inhabiting the house

are matter-of-fact, unimaginative people, who speak of this as if it were
an everyday affair. "So long as we leave the doors unclosed they don't
harm us: why should we be afraid of them?" Mrs. ---- said. Truly a
most philosophical attitude to adopt!
A haunted house in Kingstown, Co. Dublin, was investigated by
Professor W. Barrett and Professor Henry Sidgwick. The story is
singularly well