Page:Monthly scrap book, for February.pdf/16

 be up with ye. Oh! St. Dennis! to think o' the beauty o' banging you—ne bocklish boy, ne bocklish—"

"Ho! ho! man o' th' leather."

This time the never-failing exclamation was succeeded by a loud noise like the chuckle of a demon; which so incensed Darby, that, mustering all his strength, he hurled his trusty sprig in that direction whence the obnoxious sounds proceeded. "There I had you at last," said he, "I think I had you then, my joy—then I was quits with you at any rate. I've a notion that levelled you, boy—levelled you, Sir, do you see"— said he, groping about on all fours: "where are you, my tricksy tanner—where are you?"

"Oho! man o' th' leather," quoth the voice, in its usual tone.

This was too much. Poor Darby could endure no more, and actually sunk on the broad of his back, at so unexpected an aggravation, and burst into tears. While he lay disconsolately pondering on his mishaps, he suddenly bethought him of the directions which he had received from the ostler. The mystery was made clear to him in a moment. "I'm in the haunted house," said he to himself, trembling like the last leaf of the year, "the cursed tanner's new residence must be next door. Murther, now! What will become of me? Oh! that I'd salt or steel or holy book, to keep the creatures off! Not a