A man named Paddy Duggan lives alone in a little thatched cottage in the townland of Carrowtrasna, about two miles from our school. The Soapstone Mines are quiet near to his house, where many a day he worked hard for a few shillings. Near by is a lodge owned by the late Mr. Horner, and it from here my story originates.
About forty years ago, Paddy helped his brother in a blacksmith's shop in Glendowan, about five miles distant.
One morning he started off very early, and on his way, passed the lodge I mentioned. As he was standing viewing the tall monkey-defiance trees, the evergreen shrubs, and climbing ivy, he heard a cry as of someone in pain. Then he heard a loud tap at the window. On looking round he spied a slender-looking, grey-haired woman, combing her hair opposite the parlour window. She waved her hand as if in farewell to him, and vanished from sight.
Strange to say he was not frightened, but made up his mind to