Has It A Wart On Its Nose?

Miss Ilonora Murphy, a young feniale engaged in the honorable and praiseworthy occiipation of general housework merely to dispel ennui, not hearing in soine time froni the "bye at hoiin,"to whom she was engaged to be 'nianid," was advised by the "ghl next doore" to consult the spirits, and she thus relates her experience: Wtü, ter make a long story short, I ped me two dollars, an' wint into another room; an', ii' ye'd guess irom now till Aisther, ye'd never tliink wliat the majum was. As I'ni standin' here, twiis nothm uut a woman! I was thut bet, 1 was araost spacheless. 'J5e sated, madame," sez she, p'intïn' to a chair, an' I seed at waust that slie was a very shuperior sart o' persou. 'He sated," sez she. "Yer mus' jine tlie circle." "Faix, ['11 ate a thrianglo, av rer vish," sez T. "Ver mus' be very quite," sez she. An' so I sot down along a lot av other i'olks at a tabla, In a minit the majum, slitiekin' lier face close tome own, whispered: "The sperrits is about - I kin feel ein!" "Hush, llie inftuence is an me," se, the majum. 'i kin see the lion an' the lamb lylng down togethor." "Begorra, it's like a wild beasteas show," sez I. "Will ver be quite Y' sez an ould chap nex ter me. "I hev a question to iix." ■Ax yer question," sez I, "an' 111 su mine. I pal me t-n dollars, an' I '11 not be put down." "Píaze be quite," sez tlie majum, "or the sperrite '11 lave." Jist then kem a rap on the tab] e. Is that the sperrit of Luke Corrigan f" soz the niajum. "Feel av it has a wart on its nose," sez I, "for be that token ve'll know if n I.uke." "The moment is suspicious," sez the inajum. "I hope ver don't waut to asperge ine character," sez I. "Wliistl" sez she; "the sperrits ia droopin'." "It's droopin', yer name," sez I, piekin' up a small bottle she let f all front her pocket. "lJut that woman out," sez an ould chap. "Who do ye cali a woman?" sez I. "Lay a finger on me, an' I'll scrateh a map of the County Clare on yer ugl phiz." "Put lier out!" "Put her out!" ser. fcwo or tluee others. An' they med a lup for me. Uut, my sakes! l" was up in a minit. "Büng an' yer fightrn' sperrits," I cried, "l'roni .Jtilius .Sa.ar to Tim Macoul, an' I'll bate'em all for the glory of Treland!" Wid a cry of "Faugh-a-ballah!" I grabbed six dollars, runned out by the dore, an' I'll niver put fut in the house again.