At last the ghost took the bottle that lay on the hearth, and levelled my father to the ground with one blow.

Down he fell, and the bottle and the whiskey were both dashed into the fire.

That was the end of it, for the ghost disappeared that moment in a blue flame that nearly set fire to my father as he lay on the floor.
"Och, it was a cruel sight to see him next morning, with his cheek cut open and his hands all bloody, lying there by himself,--all the broken glass and the cards all round him,--the coffin, too, was knocked down off the chair, may be the ghost had trouble getting into it.

However that was, the funeral was put off for a day, for my father couldn't speak; and as for the sexton, it was a queer thing, but when they came to call him in the morning, he had two black eyes, and a gash over his ear, and he never knew how he got them.
It was easy enough to know the ghost did it; but my father kept the secret, and never told it to any man, woman, or child in them parts.".