53 h — it iiii ■■ i| ii 11 -tl if ^m"^ ©©l(q)y[^ new york: fulsyshed by james g.creeg0ey, 5 4 br oadway. i ^' — " — m — ■■ — n— " " ■■ — ■■ — ■■— ii ■■ li �' duke university library treasure 1(gom m i n spectropia or, surprising spectral tllrstoxs. ghosts eveeywheee, axd of axy coloitb. with sixteen illustrations. new york: pfblisiied by james g. g pt e g o r y, xo. 540 broadway. m.dccci.xiv. oeig£ introduction tnk t'olluwiiii!: uliisidiif; are foniided on two well-known facts; namely, the j)ersisteiicy of inij)ressions, and the production of coniplenientary eoloui-s on, tlie retina. the explanations arc divided into two parts. the first cniisists nf directions for seeing the si>ectres. the skcond, a itricf and popular, as well as a scientific, description of the manner iu which the spectres are produced. and is intended fur the use of those who may wish to know more of this kuhject than is contained in flie first pai't. .\s an aj)olojry for the api)arcnt disregard of taste and fine r.rt in the plates, such figures ai-e selected as best serve the purpose fur which they are intended. directions, '[ .-eft t'lc spectres, it, is only uecessait to look s/eaduy at tinilot, or asterisk, wliieh is to be found oil each of tiie plates, lor about n quarter of a iniiinte, or wliile eouiiting' about twenty, the plate beiiiir well illuiuiuated ity either artiticial or day light. then tnniiiig the eyes to the ceiling, the wal^ the .sky, or beiter still to a white sheet hung ou the wall of a darkened room (not totally dark), and l.)oking rather steadily at any one point, the spectre will soon beghi to make its appearance, increasiiil'' in intensity, and th"ii gradually ranishing, to re-appear and again vani.^h ; it will continue to lio .so several times in succession, t.ich reappearance being fainter than the one preceding. winking the eyes, or passing a linger rapidly to and fro before them, will frequently ha.«ten the appearance of the .spectre, especially if the plate has been .<trongly illuminated. tiio.se wlio use gasligl.t will find it convenient, after having looked at tli!' plat* as above described, to extemporise a darkened room liy having tlie gaslight turned low. the size of the spectres will he determined by tlie distance of the olxservers from the plate, and from the surface against which t'.iey are .«een ; being larger tlie neare'' the plate, and smaller the nearer tl e surface ; so that short-sighted jtersons will see tliein )urgi-r tiian long-sighted, if both are equidistant from the surface against which tliej' are seen. should any one net be able to see the spectre's features, the reason will be, cither that the eyes have been allowed to wander, or the head to move, while looking at the jilate. many persons will see some one coloured .-.)ieciie better than the ociiers in consequence of their eyes not being equally sensitive to all colours. the colours in the plate will lie found to revi-rse themselves in tlie sjiectrcs, as explained elsewhere, the spectres always appearing of the toniplementary colouv to that <jf the plate from which it is obtained. thus, blue will ajipear orange, and orange blue, &c. list or the plates. n.ate i. i'liiti wiiii.'1'il hgiire of victory will give a wliite speitre by artificial light (rather green by daylight), the red wreaths green, the green roses red, and tlie orange stars bine. plate ii. tiiis orange fignre will give a bine spectre. plate iii. this green fignre will give a red spectre. plate iv. and this yellow figure of victory will give a pnrple spectre. plate v. this black skeleton will make a white spectre. plate vi. this black fignre will give a white sjjtctre. plate vii. and this blue figure an orange si)ectre. plate viii. and this red figure will give a green spectre. plate ix. tlieso fifrnres will give green and yellow spectre*. plate x. tlii* purple hand will give a vellow spectre. plate xl this skeleton will also give a white sjict-tre, witli a vellow mantle. plate xil tliis will give a dark spectre. plate xiil this cii|)id will give a rose-coloured spectre, with how and arrow yellow. plate xiv. this figure and liroom will give a yellow spectre, cloak and hat red, and moon white. plate xv. this is a rainliow with colours reversed, the spectre of which will he found a good resemblance ot nature, especially when seen on a cloudy sky. plate xvi. the face of this figure will come out green in the spectre, the garment red, and the clofld white. the colours of the specti-es ))roduced hy these figiires wiu not only he subject to a slight variation in different eyes, hut also by the degree in which the plates are illuminated while being looked at. all the sjiectres will appear life-sized if the observer is about si.xteeu feet from the surface against which they are seen. if much further, they will apjiear colossal. popular and scientific description. it is a curious fact that, iu this age of scientific research, the absurd follies of spiritualism should find an increase of supporters ; bnt mental epidemics seem at certain seasons to affect our minds, and one of the oldest of these moral afflictions — witchcraft — is once more prevalent in this nineteenth century, under the contemptible forms of spirit-rapping and table-turning. the modern professor of these impostures, like his predecessors in all such disreputable arts, is bent only on raising the contents of the pockets of the most gullible portion of humanity, and not the spirits of the departed, over whicii, as he well knows, notwithstanding his profane afisuraption, he can have no power. one thing we hope in some measure to further in the following pages, is the extinction of the superstitious belief that apparitions are actual spirits, by showing some of the many ways in which our senses may be deceived, and that, in fact, no so-called ghost has ever appeared, witiiout its being referable either to mental or physiological deception, or, in those instances where several persons have seen a spectre at the same time, to natural objects, as in the case mentioned by dr. abercrombie, in his work on " the intellectual powers : " — " a whole ship's company were thrown into the utmost fonsfernation, by the apparition of a c<x)k who had died a few days before. he was distinctly seen walking ahead of the ship, with a peculiar gait, by which he was distinguished when alive, from having one of his legs shorter than the other. on steering the ship toward the object, it was found to be a piece of floating wreck." a ghost, according to the general descriptions of those who fancy they have been favoured with a sight of one, apjjears to i)e of a pale phosphorescent white, or bluisli white colour ; usually indistinct, and so transparent that objects are easily seen through it. when moving it glides in a peculiar manner, the legs not being necessary to its locomotion. all the senses are more or le.ss subject to deception, but the eye ls pre-eminently so ; especially in the case of individuals who are in ill health, because the sensibility of the retina is then generally much exalted, as is also the imagination. s a i( we may divide the illusions to which the sense of sight is liable into i'uur kiuds. firet, iiieutal, or those arising in the brain itself, and only referred to the eye. second, those produced by the structure of the eye. third, those arising from the impressions of outward objects on the retina. fourth, those produced by various combinations of the foregoing. it is only the second and third we .shall have occasion to touch upon. but before we can well imderstand their nature, it will be necessary to get a slight knowledge of the structure of the eye, and some idea respecting tlie nature of light. with perhaps the exception of the ear, the eye is the most wonderful example of the in6nite skill of the creator. a more exquisite piece of mechanism it is impossible for the human mind to conceive. the annexed diagram (fig. 1) ofa horizontal section of this organ will give a better idea of its general structure than whole pages of letter-press. it will be seen to consist of a globe of three envelopes or coats, which are kept distended by three transparent humours or lenses : the aqueous (e), the crystaline (/ ), and the vitreous (g). tlie outer coat (a) is dense, white, and fibrous. in front of the eye it gives place to a perfectly transparent one, called the cornea (d). the next coat, the choroid (b), is vascular, very black on its internal surface, iu order that light falling on it through the ijujjil (a) may not be reflected. the pupil is an opening through a diaphragm which is called the iris (j), from its colour varying in different individuals. it has the power of expanding and contracting tlie pupil, for the purpose of regulating tlie supply of light to the retina (c), or third and last coat which lies immediately on the choroid. it is transparent, very complex, and the only part of the eye we shall carefully consider. the following diagram (fig. 2) rejjresents a section of it magnified 250 diameters, a is called the limitary membrane, and forms its innermost surface, or that which is next the vitreous humour ; b consists of the layer of oj)tic nerve fibres ; c is a layer of grey nerve cells ; d, two layers in wliioh tiie principal retinal blood-vessels are spread out ; e, two layers of granular matter ; /, jacob's membrane, or layer of rods and cones. fig. 3 will give some idea of the sujjposcd connexion lictweeu these various parts, the same letters referring to the same parts as in fig. 2. when a ray of light enters the eye, it passes through the humors or lenses, and is formed by them into an image, on the choroid, of the object looked at. the extremities of the rods and cones fik. 1. ■ooooooqotq s wmw$ im>' ^ ^mm^ rig. 2. fig. 3. hiive tlio power uf ini|iivciiitiiig ttie image there formed, ami eoiivey it up through the ultimate parts of tlie retiua (fig. 2), tiieuoe along the optic nerve fibres to tiie brain. we are inclined to regard the extremities of the rods and cones as ■iuc true seat of perception, in consequence of observing a considerable distance between the retinal blood-vessels and the choroid, whiui performing parkinje's experiment.* this experiment consists in passing a lighted candle slowly to and fro before the eyes, at about two or three implies from the nose, when the retinal vessels will exhibit themselves before the observer not unlike branching trees. tliey may be seen by daylight, ijy passing the large teeth of an ordinary comb slowly backwards and forwards before the eye whilst lookingon a smooth sheet of paper, or upon the sky. fig. 4 represents those of the left eye, as seen by candlelight. the sjiot marked k is the exact centre of the retina. (tlie .same letter marks the same spot in fig. 1.) it is the seat of most distinct vision, j is the entrance of the optic nerve (figs. 4 and 1), from the centre of wliich the retinal artery will be seen emerging and s))readiiig over the entire retina ; but in the diagram that part only is represented which could be seen tolerably distinct. tlie background to the artery appears of a pale red, except at the part occui)ied by the optic nerve, where it is white. after this rai)id glance at so complicated a structure, and ijearing in mind that some persons can sec its several parts with vastly greater facility than otliei-s, it cannot be a matter of surprise that individuals not aware of these fticts are, now^ and then — especially at night, and wherx carrying a light about — startled by what they fancy an apparition, but which • is in reality nothing more than some part of the structures above con sidered. a lady assures us that she saw tlie ghost of her husband as she was going downstairs with a lighted candle in her hand. the spot k, fig. 4, when seen against a wall a fik. 5. few feet distant, ajipears about the size of a hnraan head, and wants very little to furnish it with features. figured paper on tiie wall, and a host of other things, may supply them, or even the retinal artery, which often lends body and limbs. (pig. 5.) pig. 4. *thi8 distance can easily be perceived by getting an imprcssiiiu on the retina according to the '• l)iiei;liona," page 4, and then, on performing the above experiment, the arterial ramificationa and the central spot will be distinctly psrceived to move over the spectral flgore. 10 besides the above meutioued structures, there are otliers wliich may phiy an importaut part iu these illusious, especially the common muscee volantes, so called from their resemblance to flying flies. tliey consist of .cells and filaments, the debris of the structures of the eye, and float about in its humours. that some of them exist very near the retina appears evident from the fact that, on placing the eye close to a gauze wire blind, distinct miniature images of parts of the gauze will ikseen in them. (fig. 6. we now pass on to consider some of the leading j)roperties of light. there have been many theories propounded from time to time in order to ex])lain the various phenomena connected with this subject, but only one accords well with all, and that is called the undulatory or vibratory theory, which, from its numerous com plications, will compel us to coutiae ourselves to a consideration of that part only wliich is necessary to our present use. this theory regards light as the vibrations of au imponderable ether pervading all space, the number of these vibrations varymg in a given time for each of the three primary colours — blue, yellow, and red — the greatest number producing blue, the least red, and an intermediate number yellow, all other colours being produced by the combination of these in various proportions. any two of the three primary colours mixed together makes the complementary colour to the third, and the third is also complementary to it. thus, blue and yellow make green, which is the complementary colour to red ; red and blue make purple, complementary to yellow ; yellow and red make orange, complementary to blue. when the three primary colours are mixed together, white is tlie result : so that when a ray of white light falls upon a piece of paper, and all the vibrations are equally reflected, the paper will appear white, and if they are all absorbed, it will ajipear black ; but, if the paper absorbs .*ome and reflects others, it will ajijiear coloured. thus, if it absorbs those producing red, it will appear green, from the mixture of the vibrations producing blue and yjllow ; and if it absorbs blue and yellow, and reflects red, then it will apjjear red. in this manner any object w^e look at will appear of any particular colom-, according to which vibrations it absorbs and which it reflects. the retina is so admirably constructed that it is susceptible of different im])ressions of colour by these different vibrations, except, in the case of a few individuals, who are either blind to all colour, and therefore see everything black or white, and their intermediate shades, or who are blind to only one or two colours. "when we look steadily at a red object for a few seconds, that part of the retina on which the image impinges begins to get less sensitive to vibrations producing red, but more sensitive to 11 those procliiciiig blue mid yellow ; so tiiat ou turning tiic eve iuvay from the red object, and permitting a little white light to enter it, that part of the retina whicii received the red image will, in consequence of its diminished .sensibility to that colour, and its exalted sensibility to blue and yellow, be able to perceive the two latter colours best, and by their mixture will give rise to a green image of the red object. the same thing will be observed with all the other colours ; the secondary image or spectre always a])pearing of the complementary colour to the object from which the impression is obtained. the duration ami vividness of these impressions on the retina vary greatly in different individuals, and can be procured fro.u almost any object. a person may, after looking steadily, and as often happens, uiicon.sciously for v short time at printed or painted figures, on paper, porcelain, «s;c., see, on turning tne head in some i ther direetion, a life-sized or colossal spectre (the spectre appears larger the greater the distance of the surface against which it is seen), and tliere can be little doubt but that many of the reputed ghosts originate in tiiis manner. 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 uu d i ■^^'.r-^.-^.. < 74 jg5 pa 5 university of michigan-dearborn 39076006965847 a holiday book halloween okie miat еласт ой «49 и олиш ч оо m піший а) a holiday book t by lillie patterson illustrated by gil miret . 72 ! cit/v.pasv, illinois 2 this book is for bonnie lee and lillian dantley the university of michidan dearborn campus library holiday books are edited under the educational supervision of 5 charles e. johnson, ed.d. associate professor of education university of illinois the university of aaingan dearborn cant. jgs .pa5-5.66 nov 18 71 jk copyright 1963 by lillie patterson all rights reserved under international and pan-american copyright conventions published in champaign, illinois by garrard publishing company manufactured in the united states of america library of congress catalog card number: 63-13626 i contents 1. it's halloween 5 . . 2. how it all began . 9 3. the apples of pomona and the eve of all hallows . 16 4. ghosts, ghosts, ghosts 21 5. witches and black cats 26 6. wee folk. 32 7. halloween customs from many lands . 39 8. magic tests, chants, charms 47 9. halloween comes to america 51 10. halloween with a heart . 61 . 1 it's halloween “let the ghosts and witches out, bring the apples in; don't you know it's halloween? let the fun begin!” a it's halloween! it's a witches' party! the room is gaily decorated in orange and black. grinning jack-o'-lanterns sit in the windows. cornstalks stand in the dark halloween treats are waiting on the table. pictures of witches and black corners. cats are all about the room. 5 some of the guests are playing fortunetelling games, using apples and nuts. some are bobbing for apples. others are trying to guess who the people are behind their masks. someone starts telling a ghost story. all the party-goers, dressed as witches and ghosts and skeletons, gather in a circle. the lights are turned low. “i'll tell you a story on this chill halloween!” the speaker begins. the yll listeners shiver and draw closer together. “a woman sat spinning one halloween night. 'how i wish i had some company,' she said. suddenly, in came a pair of broad soles, and sat down at the fireside. a pair of small legs sat down on the broad soles. a pair of thick knees sat down on the small legs. w 2 a pair of thin thighs sat down on the thick knees. a pair of huge hips sat down on the thin thighs. a wee waist sat down on the huge hips. a pair of broad shoulders sat down on the wee waist. a pair of small arms sat down on the broad shoulders. a pair of huge hands sat down on the small arms. a small neck sat down on the broad shoulders. a huge head sat down on the small neck. 'what do you come for?' asked the woman. for you!' cried the strange visitor." from “the strange visitor,” english fairy tales by joseph jacobs, g. p. putnam's sons. 8 s 2 how it all began ghosts and witches and jack-o'-lanterns are all part of a holiday thousands of years old. halloween is one of our oldest and most colorful holidays. it goes back to early times before christ was born. part of the halloween story comes from a people called celts. they lived where great britain and northern france are 9 now. the celts worshipped nature and had many gods. among their gods were the sun, and spirits of woods and streams. the sun god was their favorite. he marked their work time and their rest time. he made the earth beautiful. he made the crops grow. every year the celts held a big festival on november 1. they celebrated the end of the season of sun, and the beginning 10 of the season of cold and darkness. this was the beginning of their new year. the celts had no science books. the cold, short days of winter were a great mystery. they did not know that the earth moves about the sun. the coldness and “disappearance of the sun” filled the celts with fear and superstition. a superstition is an unlikely belief based on faith in magic and fear of the unknown. the celts made up a story to explain the shorter days and the sun god's loss each year the sun god was attacked by the evil powers of cold and darkness. he was held prisoner for six months. he had to fight to get his power back. when he won, brightness returned to the earth. the celts called winter the season of death. crops, leaves and flowers died. of power. 11 winter was ruled by samhain, lord of the dead and prince of darkness. the celts believed that samhain called together all the dead people on october 31. he told these spirits what form they should take. those who were bad took the form of animals. the very wicked took the form of cats. it was the festival on november 1 honored both the sun god and samhain. named after samhain. let's go back in time and visit one. it is october 31, the eve before the festival of samhain. the crops have been harvested and stored for the winter. the cooking fires in all homes have been put out. the season of the sun is dead. men called druids will lead the ceremonies. they are they are the celtic priests and teachers. 12 hanna the druids meet high on a hilltop, in a dark oak forest. the oak is their sacred tree. the druids are dressed in long white robes. they move around a stone altar, praying. they thank the sun god for a good harvest. they promise to help him get ready for his fight. fire will help him. fire is strong and hot like the sun. evil spirits fear fire. the druids begin a new fire, for the new season. the fire is sacred, they say. they throw crops and animals into it. the druids dance in circle around the bonfire. from hilltop to hilltop new fires light the sky. midnight is the magic hour. the season of darkness begins. now the druids honor samhain. he will rule for the next six months. they ask samhain to let brightness and growth return to the earth. a 13 the air is filled with fear and mystery. the druids ask the spirits to tell them what will happen in the new year. spirits know the future. morning comes. the druids give a spark from the sacred fire to the head of each family. new cooking fires are lighted in the homes. these new fires will keep the homes safe from evil spirits. this festival often lasted three days. there was much feasting and parading. many people paraded in costumes made from the skins and heads of animals. they thought this pleased samhain and kept away evil spirits. the samhain festival was a time of thanksgiving for the harvest. it was time of fear, magic, mystery, and wondering about the future. a it was also the first halloween. 15 3 the apples of pomona and the eve of all hallows the city of rome gives us another part of the halloween story. the early romans also had many gods and goddesses. one was pomona, goddess of their fruits and gardens. the romans pictured pomona as a beautiful girl with fruits in her arms and a crown of apples on her head. some called her the apple queen. 16 was came 5 the romans loved holidays. one of their greatest for pomona. like samhain, it about november 1. people laid out apples and nuts for pomona. these were to thank her for a good harvest. the romans played games. they held races. pomona day was a time of thanksgiving and joy. many years passed. the romans had a war with britain. they ruled britain for nearly 400 years, from the first to the fifth centuries a.d. the romans took their holidays to britain with them. customs of the druid samhain became mixed with those of the roman pomona day. there was one big fall holiday. the name halloween comes from still another celebration. the new christian religion spread over 17 europe and britain. in 835 a.d., the roman catholic church made november 1 a church holiday to honor all the saints. this holy day was called all saints' day, or hallowmas or all hallows. later, the church made november 2 a holy day also. it was called all souls' day and honored all dead people. favorite food was set out for the dead. bonfires glowed to light their way to heaven. and there were big parades. people dressed to look like saints, angels or devils. people celebrated as christians on all hallows' day and all souls' day. but they did not give up their customs from samhain and pomona day. they celebrated these the evening before all hallows. october 31 became known as all hallow even. it was still time of magic, superstition and the gathering of spirits. a 18 니 ​+ 구 ​ in time, some of the customs from all saints' day and all souls' day mixed with those of samhain and pomona day. the name of the holiday was shortened from all hallow even to hallowe'en and then kami to halloween. each celebration gave colorful customs to the holiday. pomona day gave the apples and the nuts, the harvest idea. samhain honored the harvest too, and death. it gave the fortune-telling and magic, the black cats and evil spirits. all saints' day and all souls' day also honored the dead. they gave the ghosts and skeletons and skulls. people learned more about science and nature. they were no longer afraid of the unknown. still the old customs did not die out. halloween was too much fun to give up. it just became merrier. 4 ghosts, ghosts, ghosts on halloween, many boys and girls dress in white sheets and pretend to be ghosts. long ago people really believed in ghosts. they thought the dead came back to their homes once a year, between sunset october 31 and sunrise november 1. 21 ghosts who had no homes had to walk around all night. they would play scary tricks on people. “a flash of white in the darkness, 'who-00-000? hoots the owl on the post; a creak and a groan, a squeak and a moan, 'o00-00-000! comes the howlit's a ghost!” 22 many superstitions about ghosts have been passed down through the years. ghosts can be seen, but not heard. they never leave shadows or footprints. they can walk through closed doors, even walls. they love to live in empty houses. they travel at night for they are afraid of the light. to keep ghosts away, one should wear red or carry a light. spirits fear these two things. the custom of telling ghost stories on halloween is very old. people used to gather around bonfires. they told about the strange sights they saw on october 31. one ghost story is famous that paintings have been made of it. it has also been told in music by a french composer. camille saint-saëns called his ghostly music the danse macabre, or dance of death. so 23 파견 ​따 ​ every halloween, says the story, there is a strange dance in the graveyards. at midnight, death raps on the gravestones to wake the sleepers. all the ghosts leave their graves and begin to dance. skeletons rattle their bones to strange music. on and on they dance, faster and wilder. suddenly at dawn, the cock crows. there is silence in the graveyard. the ghosts return to their graves until next halloween. 5 witches and black cats “look out! look out, boys! clear the track! the witches are here! they've all come back.” oliver wendell holmes people once were very busy keeping witches away. most people believed in witches at one time or another. witches 26 was worked magic and were given their power by evil spirits. some female witches were young but most of them were old and ugly. male witches were called warlocks. superstitions about witches were indeed strange. it was believed that witches held big meetings as seasons changed. two meetings were very important. one came on april 30, the eve before may day. it called roodmas in england and walpurgis night in germany. the other fell on october 31. halloween became the witches' night. what a gay time the witches had! they flew to the meeting on broomsticks. the party was led by the devil. witches had special powers this night. heh! heh! heh! they laughed as they thought up all sorts of mischief. sickness! bad luck! storms! ruined crops! on 27 the dancing was a sight to see. witches danced in a ring, two together, back to back. they linked arms, kicking their heels and laughing. in the early morning, they rode their broomsticks home. there were other superstitions. witches used their magic to see into the future. they could change themselves into other forms. they could even cast spells over people and change them. they might change a handsome boy into a frog. or they might change a beautiful girl into a snake. witches were often in company with such things as owls, bats, lizards and frogs. the witches cooked their magic brews in big black pots. these called cauldrons. one of william shakespeare's famous plays tells of three witches mixing a magic brew: 1 1 were 28 “fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron boil and bake; eye of newt, and toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog, adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, for a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble. double, double toil and trouble; fire burn, and cauldron bubble." if you want to meet a witch this old superstition tells you what you must do. put your clothes on wrong side out. walk backwards to a crossroads on halloween night. at midnight you will see a witch. black cats were the partners of witches. many people were afraid of cats. some thought cats were the spirits of the dead. others believed that witches changed themselves into cats. if people met a cat, they asked: “is this really a cat? or is this a witch changed into a cat?” the irish had many superstitions about witches and cats. if they began a trip and met a black cat, they turned back. a witch was in their path. the trip would turn out badly. even today, many people do not want a black cat to cross their path. 31 systy re 6 wee folk “up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen, we daren't go a-hunting for fear of little men; wee folk, good folk, trooping all together; green jacket, red cap, and white owl's feather!” william allingham watch out! the fairy folk are about. 32 names. wear they go by many fairies! goblins! elves! leprechauns! brownies! trolls! some green. some wear bright red caps. when the celts became christians they hated to give up their old ways. they had always thought there were spirits in forests and hills, caves and rocks. the country folk still believed in these spirits. but they began to think of them as “little people.” they were not as powerful as the old gods and goddesses, but they were magical. halloween was their special holiday time. anyone who them would have strange adventure. some were good folk. they tried to help humans. some were full of mischief. they liked to play tricks. others were evil and did much harm. the wee folk loved music and dancing. saw a ů 33 7 on their music had special magic halloween. some people who heard it went to sleep for a long, long time. some followed the music. and some began dancing, unable to stop. there is a story told in wales about fairy music. a farmer liked music and he liked adventure. one day he took his fiddle and set out. it was all hallows' eve. the farmer came to a cave. he heard music a and followed the music inside. he was not seen for a long time. many years passed. a shepherd passed the cave on another halloween night. he looked in and saw the home of the little people. in the middle of the fairy circle sat the farmer, still playing his fiddle. anyone who finds this cave on halloween will see him. the irish, especially, believed in little people. they thought leprechauns lived in 34 ireland. the leprechauns were full of mischief. if you met one, he had to grant you a wish. you were never to take your eyes off him, though. if you did he would trick you. 9 an old folk tale tells about tom, an irish boy, who met a leprechaun one day. “follow me,” the little man said. “i'll lead you to a pot of gold.” the leprechaun led, tom followed. over hills and valleys they walan 301 went. then the leprechaun pointed to a bush. “dig there!" “i'll run home for a spade," tom said. “i'll tie a red garter on the bush to mark it.” tom ran home and back as fast as he could. he could hardly believe his eyes. every bush in the field was tied with a red garter. “the leprechaun has tricked me," tom said. "i should not have taken my eyes off him." goblins could be helpful around the house, but they were full of pranks. they rapped on walls, and banged pots and pans. they moved furniture in the night. goblins punished children when they disobeyed. “the goblins will get you,” parents would say. goblins sometimes stole babies and left little goblins in their places. the mothers had to trick the goblins into bringing their babies back. 37 man no brownies and elves were helpful. there were many stories about them. an old and his wife had children to help to help with their housework. the brownies decided to help. every night they came and worked and danced and sang. they skipped back home before daylight. brownies never like to be seen. one night the old man and his wife peeped. they saw that the brownies needed new clothes. “we'll make some,” they decided. they sewed little brown suits and caps. on halloween night they put the new clothes out. how happy the brownies were! they put on the new clothes, but never came back. someone had seen them. you 义​、 7 halloween customs from many lands most halloween customs came from the land of the celts. this includes england, ireland, scotland, wales and part of france. the druid religion lasted longest in ireland and scotland. halloween was most important in these two countries. 39 were at first, halloween celebrations filled with fear of evil spirits. people were afraid to be alone. so they gathered in groups. sometimes they wore costumes. they hoped the evil spirits would think they were other spirits and leave them alone. later, people began to have good times so they would forget about the spirits. the gatherings became merrier and merrier. only grownups had this fun. children joined in later. finally they took over the holiday for themselves. the celts carried a light if they went out on october 31. lights kept away evil spirits. the lights were lanterns carved out of big turnips. in later years, children carved grinning faces on the turnips. some called them “bogies.” some called them jack-o'-lanterns." 40 the name jack-o'-lantern is from an old irish story. once there was a man whose name was jack. he was mean, stingy and tricky. when he died, he was too mean to go to heaven. he went to the devil. the devil threw jack a piece of burning coal. “put this inside the turnip you are eating,” he told jack. “this will be your lantern.” jack is still walking with his lantern, looking for a place to stay. the irish country folk liked halloween parades. they went begging in the name of “muck olla.” this was the name of one of the old druid gods. the parade leader wore a white robe and a horse-head mask. the people stopped to beg at each farmhouse. “muck olla will be good to you if you help us,” they said. the farmer and his wife would give them food. scotland had many of the irish customs, and some of their own. families paraded about the fields and villages with burning torches. these kept the fields and animals safe from witches and other spirits. they lighted big hillside fires as the druids had done. each family tried to have the biggest bonfire. sometimes they put on weird masks. they danced and sang around the fire. “burn the witches!” they chanted. when the last spark died out, 42 they ran down the hill shouting, “the devil gets the last one down!” cabbage and kale played a big part in the scottish halloween. children piled cabbage and kale stalks around doors and windows of their homes. they believed this made the fairies bring a new baby. the people in wales also built halloween fires. their celebration was not quite as gay. they thought much about death. each person in the family marked a white stone and threw it into the fire. then they marched around the fire praying. in the morning, each went to get his stone. if a stone was missing, there was great sadness. the spirits were showing that this person would die soon. in england, halloween was nicknamed nutcrack night or snap night or snap apple night. families sat before the fires to roast nuts 43 went 1 and eat apples. they told stories and played games. most of their games used apples and nuts which were plentiful then. on all souls' souls' day the poor begging. they called this "going a-souling." housewives gave special sweets called “soulcakes.” the “soulers” promised to say prayers for the dead. after many years, this custom changed. children were the only ones who begged. > > 2 housewives gave them apples, buns, and money. the children chanted: “soul, soul, an apple or two, if you haven't an apple, a pear will do, an apple or a pear, or a plum or a cherry, any good thing to make us merry. one for peter, two for paul, three for the man who made us all. up with the kettle and down with the рап. give us good alms and we'll be gone." some countries celebrated just all saints' day and all souls' day and not halloween. their customs were much like halloween, though. in france, the bell-man went about the streets just before midnight. “go inside!” he warned the people. “the spirits are about to arrive.” everyone went to 45 i to see bed with his eyes shut tight. no one wanted these midnight visitors. french children now beg for flowers on october 31. they use them to decorate churches and graves. in mexico, cakes and toys are set out on the evening before all saints' day. these are for the dead children of the families. some parents shoot firecrackers before their homes. these are to light the way for the souls of the dead children. all souls' day is an important national holiday in mexico. it is called the day of the dead. bakers sell “dead men's bread” in the shape of skulls. children buy toy skeletons and coffins. they eat candy skulls, candy coffins, and candy funeral wreaths. it is a strange but happy time. picnic parties visit the graves. all is done in a holiday spirit. b 46 joanna 8 magic tests, chants, charms the druids were great fortune-tellers. the beginning of their new year was the best time for fortune-telling. spirits were about then and had great power to into the future. halloween became a great fortune-telling night. people used charms, or magic tests, to make the spirits tell their future. they said magic chants to make their wishes come true. see 47 people tried to find out many things. who is my true love? whom shall i marry? what is his name? when shall i die? nut tests were popular. this is an old, old one. put two nuts in the burning fireplace. name each for a special friend. if the nutcracks and jumps away, that is a bad sign. the spirits are showing that the friend is not true. the nut that burns with a steady glow stands for the true friend. apples were as popular as nuts. the apple paring test is hundreds of years old. peel an apple round and round in one piece. swing the paring over your head three times. throw it shoulder, chanting: “by this paring let me discover, the initial letter of my true lover." over your left 48 row. the paring should fall to form the first letter of your true love's name. the “three luggies' is another old test. luggies were bowls with handles like druid lamps. put three bowls in a fill one with clean water, one with dirty water, and leave one empty. each player must be blindfolded. he turns around three times then dips his hand into one of the bowls. this test was used to tell whom you would marry. marry. but the bowls might stand for any fortune. for example, the bowl of clean water could stand for much money. the dirty water could stand for little money, and the empty bowl for no money at all. or, the bowls might stand for jobs, travel, luck, fame, and so the clean water will always stand for the best fortune and the empty bowl for the on. worst. 49 that year. “throwing the shoe” is another test. throw one shoe over the rooftop or something high. if the shoe lands pointing toward the house, you will stay at home if it points away, you will travel in that direction. if it lands with the sole up, you will have bad luck. many charms were tried to make dreams tell the future. boys cut ten ivy leaves. they threw one away and put the others under their pillows. girls put a small piece of wood in a glass of water. they slept with this beside their pillows. many other things were done to bring on dreams. today, even though we don't believe in chants and charms, they add to the fun of halloween. بالليليلا int huile 9 halloween comes to america american settlers brought their holiday customs from the old countries. some of these customs stayed as they were. some were changed to fit new ways of living. americans also made up new halloween customs of their own. many early settlers came from england. they were religious and very strict. they did not have gay parties and celebrations. 51 to halloween was the work of the devil, they thought. these settlers brought their belief in witches. many real people were thought be witches. american indians also believed in witches. so did the negroes who brought their belief in black magic from africa. fear of witches grew much worse in the seventeenth century. special “witch finders” carried on "witch hunts.” there were famous witch trials, especially in the colony of massachusetts. large crowds came to watch. persons found guilty were punished or killed. it is said that one woman was called witch because she baked an apple dumpling. how could she get the apple inside the dumpling unless she knew black magic? the woman was brought to trial. a 52 in court, she made an apple dumpling for all to see. only then was she set free. in time, halloween became a time for fun. colonists gathered at farmhouses on october 31. some called it nutcrack night and snap apple night as they had in england. they sang songs and told ghost stories. they tried the old nut and apple fortune-telling tests. they played such old games as “bobbing for apples.” but halloween was still not celebrated all > over america. to then something happened to change this. thousands of irish people began coming america. they brought their gay halloween customs with them. americans liked their games and pranks, their charms and chants. they made them their own. the big round orange pumpkin became a part of this celebration. pumpkins made 53 exciting jack-o'-lanterns. they were larger and more colorful than turnips. a light fitted more easily inside. the grinning pumpkin jack-o'-lantern became the king of halloween symbols. an old legend says that at midnight on halloween all the pumpkins leave their vines. they dance merrily across the fields. a famous american "pumpkin" ghost story is the legend of sleepy hollow by washington irving. a schoolteacher named ichabod crane lived in a valley called sleepy hollow. people believed that the ghost of a headless horseman haunted the valley, looking for his head. one dark autumn night, ichabod was returning from a party. at midnight, he saw the shape of a headless horseman. ichabod dashed away on his horse. the ghost raced behind. over hills and stones 55 1 ever 1 they galloped. then the ghost rose up and threw his head. crash! it knocked poor ichabod from his horse. no one saw the teacher again. some said he ran away. others said the goblins took him. all they knew was this: they found a broken pumpkin beside his horse. someone must have tricked ichabod. the head must have been only a pumpkin. the people from ireland and scotland brought their love of halloween bonfires. american children danced and sang around their own fires. america grew. pioneers opened up the west. pioneering people were hearty and full of fun. their halloween pranks were full of fun too. gay halloween gatherings were often held in barns. there were taffy candy pulls and corn-popping parties. there were tricks too. a farmer would 56 blin wake and blink his eyes. his wagon would be on top of the barn roof. another would find his front gate hanging from a tree. soap was rubbed over windows! “the goblins must have done it,” people would laugh and say. housewives started giving treats to keep from being tricked. children began ringing doorbells and shouting, “trick or treat!" this was much like the begging of the english “soulers" and the irish “muck olla” parade. 57 as years passed, tricks became really harmful. children all over the country were harming people's property. halloween was in danger of being spoiled. then halloween changed. it was still a night of fun, but the fun became less harmful. children ringing doorbells would shout, “trick' for a treat." halloween treats would be offered them after they had done a trick for fun. some towns began to plan for halloween. many today plan dress-up parades at schools, playgrounds or parks. prizes are given for the most scary, the funniest or most fanciful costume. parties and parades keep up the custom of halloween as a time for getting together. boys and girls have learned much about halloween safety. they they wear costumes made from fireproof material. if costumes 58 are are dark, they wear a bright spot of color so cars can see them. they use flashlights in jack-o'-lanterns to replace candles. then they won't cause a fire. this all makes halloween safe as well as happy. orange or gold, and black the halloween colors. orange and gold stand for ripe fruits and grain. this harvest idea comes from pomona. black is for black magic and black cats, for the mystery of halloween. this comes from samhain. halloween in america has become a big holiday for boys and girls. surprisingly enough, halloween is not much of holiday now in england, scotland and ireland. americans have been the ones to keep the holiday alive. recently they have found a way of sharing it with the whole world. а 59 د for the world's children cen es will give a child five 6 aasses of milk unicef 10 halloween with a heart in 1950, american boys and girls began a new halloween custom. they still dress up. they still have parties and parades. spooks still ring doorbells. carry milk cartons instead of their trick or treat bags. “trick or treat for unicef!” they cry. but many 61 unicef name unicef was set up by the united nations. unicef stands for united nations international children's emergency fund. recently the has been shortened to united nations children's fund. the fund helps children all over the world. many of these children are sick, hungry or in need. the fund provides badly needed milk and medicines. it helps poorer countries to take care of their own children. many of these children would die if no one helped them. 62 american children raise money for the fund on halloween. a small sunday school class started it. “let's share instead of “ scare," these children decided. they rang doorbellson halloween night and asked for pennies. they collected $36, and sent the money to unicef. the next year more children did the same thing. the parade to help unicef grew longer. “the trick is to treat,” children found out. then more and more children took part. they learned the fun of treating children all over the world. now, millions of children carry the official orange and black unicef cartons on halloween. "trick or treat for the world's children," say the labels. pennies, nickels, dimes, sometimes dollars are dropped into the cartons. the ring of doorbells turns into the ring of children's 63 * laughter. the world's children are happy to get this help. children in all 50 states take part. they sometimes collect over $2,000,000. . halloween has also become united nations children's fund day.* american children got their halloween customs from many countries. they are now giving to the children of many countries in return for the customs. halloween is forming a ring of friendship around the world. children still have fun on halloween. ghosts still walk. witches still have their black cats and broomsticks. fairies and elves still dance. goblins still play tricks. it is all now done for fun. all of this can happen on only one magical night, halloween. * official unicef collection and identification materials are available from the united states committee for unicef, united nations, new york. ! ))))))) date due . احلى juv university of michigan--dearborn јgs с. 1 halloween. 3 9076 00696584 7 immittee сах, маса loctisjud hưới ^^^= o <"'',■ ^^=1 vi fe;^.--#'^^*' m ^ herbert feiitoii. mroovchonby the library of the university of california los angeles the haunted house a romafjce the haunted house by thomas hood illustrated by herbert railton with an introduction by austin dobson london: lawrence and bullen 1 6 henrietta street, covent garden mdcccxcvi richard clay and sons, limited, london and bungav. introduction t/ie haunted house is pathetically connected with the close of its author's life. it belongs to the period comprised in the final pages of those simple and unaffected memorials by his son and daughter, which — until, from the pen of the master of the temple or some one equally capable, we are furnished with an ampler and a more critical biography — must remain the chief record of thomas hood. it was in the may of 1845 that he died ; and the haunted house was probably composed in the last months 959380 vi introduction of 1843, when he was ah'cady a doomed man, though still struggling gallantly, in spite of everything, to carry on his literary pursuits. already, for several years past, his condition had been more or less critical. he suffered from heart disease, and periodic haemorrhage of the lungs, combined with minor ailments ; all of which, according to his faithful friend and physician, dr. william elliot, had been aggravated by the necessity that he should, in all cir cumstances and " at all times continue his literary labours, being under engage ments to complete certain works within a stated period." in the train of insom nia had come its attendant troubles, depression and exhaustion, and these introduction vii again had increased his malady," bringing on renewed attacks, and reducing him to such a state that he had been ren dered utterly incapable of mental effort." these quotations are from a letter of 1840, but they represent with even more accuracy his condition in 1843. yet his endurance, his courage, his buoyancy, and his cheerful spirit kept him active almost to the end. several times dur ing the progress of his last enterprise, his friends, of whom happily he seems to have had no lack, were obliged to make fresh excuses for the absence of his familiar pen. now and then a little drawing, executed with difficulty in his sick bed, did duty for the defaulting pages of prose or verse ; and many of viii ixtroductiox his later papers were dictated to his wife — that kind and lo\in<^ nurse who for so brief a space survived her husband — in the intervals of terrible paroxysms of pain. the moment he could return to work he did so, pouring out his " whims and oddities," scrawling off admirable letters to childish favourites, or drawing up eloquent appeals to those in power on behalf of the poor and the oppressed. and strangely enough, to this period of his life belong not only the haunted house, but two more of his most successful and enduring poetical efforts, tjie song of the shirt and the bridge of sighs. the song of the shirt came out anonymously in the christmas number introduction ix of punch for 1843, and its instantaneous and extraordinary popularit)' is matter of history. but the haunted house 2i.nd the bridge of sighs both appeared in that ill-starred and short-lived serial hood's ]\iagaai)ie and comic hhscel/any. the three volumes of this are now so rarely to be found, and it is, more over, so intimately connected with its editor's final struggle with that " long disease," his life, that before proceed ing to the main duty of this " intro duction," it ma}' be worth while to give some account of it. a periodical which, in addition to the beautiful stanzas — " farewell, life ! my senses swim," includes, not onu' two of hood's best pieces, but half a dozen of x introduction robert browning's dramatic lyrics and romances, two or three poems by keats, a poem and a conversation by walter savage landor, and contributions by monckton milnes (lord houghton), " barry cornwall " (b. \v. procter), the hon. mrs. norton, g. h. lewes, and g. r. r. james, — to say nothing of a humorous epistle from charles dickens, — scarcely deserves to fall into complete oblivion. its prospectus, which was issued at the end of 1843, was in hood's best manner, bristling of course with wit and puns, and betraying not the least indication of the writer's miserable state of health. there was to be a total abstinence from the stimulating topics and fermented ques ixtroductiox xi tions of politics and polemics, it said, but " for the sedate there would be papers of becoming gravity ; and the lover of poetry would be supplied with numbers in each number." " it would aim at being merry and wise, instead of merry and otherwise." "a critical e}'e was to be kept on current literature, — a regret ful one on the drama, and a kind one on the fine arts, from whose artesian well there would be an occasional draiviiigr more than half of the first number, which was published in january with, for those days, considerable success, (1,500 copies being sold), was contrib uted by hood himself the frontispiece was an exceedingly good steel engraving by j. cousen, after thomas creswick, xii introduction r.a., of the haunted house ; and it is quite possible that the original picture, which, we arc told, was never in hood's possession, supplied the initial sugges tion for the poem it was employed to decorate. there were other verses by the editor in the first part, which also included a metrical description, by an anonymous hand, of hogarth's rah^'s progress, — a description scarcely to be described as an improvement on iioadl}''s contemporary verses. the start whicli the maga/jne obtained was, however, speedily obstructed by the usual financial difficulties. the proprietor turned out to be a man of straw, who had been tempted into the speculation by the editor's name, but was without suf introduction xiii ficient capital to float the enterprise. after changing printers twice, hood managed to get out the second num ber, which opened with another of his more serious poems, the ladfs dream, — the title, by the way, of one of stothard's water-colour designs in the william smith bequest at south kensington. hood's lady's dream, however, — notable for the couplet, " evil is wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart," — was illustrated b}himself, with some obvious assistance from its en graver, samuel williams, and it had also an exceedingly picturesque tail-piece of a " church porch," the " scene of gray's elegyl' which, from the initials " t.c.," xiv introduction was apparcnth' by crcswick. among hood's colleagues in this part were charles mackay and mrs. s. c. hall, the latter of whom had offered to assist out of " veneration to the author of the songof the shirty in no. hi. again, the initial poem, the key: a moorisji romance, was editorial \ but the most ambitious contribution was a blank verse treatment by mackay of that theme of the death of pan which, in this same year, mrs. browning also handled so supremely. other " numbers in the numbers " that succeeded were by samuel lover and the hon. ]\irs. norton. in part v., after a threatening letter to thomas hood from dickens, came the bridge of introduction xv s/^/is and the beginning of the editor's unfinished novel, oi/r family. in the next part browning arrived to the rescue with the laboratory and claret and tokay, which two latter pieces (supplemented by bcer^ figure in his works under the title of nationality in drinks. these contributions he after wards followed up by garden fancies, the boy and the angel, the tomb at st. praxed's, and tjic flight of the duchess. apparently this assistance was procured for the magazine by milnes, to whose good ofifices is no doubt also due the song of old -il/eg, which keats was stated to have written during his tour in scotland in 1818, and which made its first appearance in no. vi., heralding xvi introduction one or two other minor pieces from the same pen. ]uit before the first volume was finished, work and worry had aijain brought hood to the brink of the grave. " during several days," says an an nouncement at the end of the number for june, " fears were entertained for his life." ]5ut he had rallied, and was recovering, though slowly, — in earnest of which he sent forth from his sick chamber two little sketches bearing unmistakable traces of the disadvan tages under which the\' had been pro duced. one, hood' s j/c?i,'-, was a magpie in a hawk's hood ; the other, an "arrange ment " of blisters, leeches, and physic bottles, symbolised and expressed the editor^ s apologies. introduction xvii it is needless to describe in detail the contents of the two remaining \olumes. apart from browning's poems, the most important of the pieces that followed were landor's prayer of the bees for alcipjiron, and the dialogue (in prose) between dante and beatrice, while in the number for november, 1844, figured a deatji of clytemiiestra hy bulwer lytton, also but recently recovered from illness. our family dragged on to its twenty-third chapter ; but with the ex ception of the lay of the labourer and the stanzas beginning " farewell, life !" already referred to, nothing else of im portance came from the editor himself his last prose contribution was a note from my note book, in which he called c xviii introduction attention to tlic curious fact that collins's ode to evening is but one unbroken sen tence ; his last metrical effort, a not ver) remarkable epigram on lord brougham. this latter appeared in the march number of vol. ii., the frontispiece to which was the engraving by f. a. heath (familiar in the old editions of hood's poems) of his bust b}edward davis. the same march number announced that he was " more .seriously ill than even jic had ever been before." in april the hope less character of his malady was defin itely announced. he lingered, however, for a month longer, dying, as he said, *' inch b\inch," but tranquil, resigned, and affectionate as of old. the end came at last on the 3rd of maj-, 1845. introduction xix it has already been hinted that the haunted house may have been first prompted by creswick's picture, for which the artist's name was no doubt the same. indeed, the motto from wordsworth prefixed to the poem is just such an one as might be expected in an exhibition catalogue. but even if this conjecture be well founded, the result is onl}to increase one's sense of the extraordinary fertility of fancy which has accumulated around a suggestive title such a succession of images of solitude and decay, — such a brooding horror of ancestral crime and desolation. it is true that to-day the manner of the work is a little in the melodramatic taste of the forties and c 2 xx introduction' fifties, but it is not the less ghostly on that account. and in this connection, it ma\' be observed that an acute and accomphshed critic of poctr\-, the poet mr. lulmund clarence stedman, has been careful to notice a certain similarity between hood's method in verse and some of dickens's cognate pictures in prose. mr. stedman instances, for ex ample, the touch of kinship between the old hall in tjie haunted house and " the shadowy grand-staircase in the dedlock mansion" or " mr. tulkinghorn's cham ber [in lincoln's inn fields], — where the roman points through loneliness and gloom to the dead body on the floor." dickens had no need to borrow from any one ; but, as we have seen, he had ixxtroduction xxi himself contributed to hood's magazine, and it may well be that something of its opening verses had lingered in his memory, though there are ten years between them and the publication of bleak house in 1853. but in recalling mr. stedman's attractive pages, we must not forget that the most steadfast admirer of this poem — upon which the sympathetic pencil of mr. herbert railton has here lavished its wealth of ingenious interpretation — was also an american poet and critic. it is to the haunted house that edgar allan poe devotes the entire final paragraph of his review of hood. in all probability no more keenly perceptive analyst of this particular effort could be found than xxii introduction the author of the raven, and for this reason �c shall take leave to close this preface by quoting his "appreciation" with a minimum of excision. after say ing that he prefers the haunted house to any composition of its author, he goes on : " it is a masterpiece of its kind — and that kind belongs to a �r}lofty — if not to the ver\' loftiest order of poetical literature. . . . not the least merit of the work is its rigorous simplicit}-. . . . the thesis is one of the truest in all poetry. as a mere thesis it is really difficult to conceive anything better. the strength of the poet is put forth in the invention of traits in keeping with the ideas of crime, abandonment, and ghostly visita tion. every legitimate art is brought in introduction xxiii to aid in conveying the intended effects ; and (what is quite remarkable in the case of hood) nothing discordant is at any point introduced. he has here very httle of what we have designated as the fantastic — httle which is not strictly harmonious. the metre and rhj'thm are not only in themselves admirably adapt ed to the whole design, but, with a true artistic feeling, the poet has preserved a thorough monotone throughout, and ren ders its effect more impressiveby the repe tition (gradually increasing in frequency towards the finale) of one of the most pregnant and effective of the stanzas : ' o'e all there hung a shadow and a fear, a sense of mystery the spirit daunted. and said, as plain as whisper in the ear. the place is haunted ! ' xx iv introduction had mood only written tjie haitiited house, it would have sufficed to render him immortal." austin dobson. ealing, august, 1s95. the haunted houfe 77/t' haunted hoiife a romance part i some dreams we have are nothing elfe but dreams^ unnatural^ and full of contradictions ; tet others of our mofi romantic schemes are something more than fictions. it might be only on enchanted ground ; it might be merely by a thought' s expanfion ; but, in the spirit or the fefi, i found an old deferted manfon. jhe haunted iloufe a refidence for zvoman, child^ and man, a dwelling place,— and yet no habitation ; a hou/e, — but under some prodigious ban of excommunication. unhinged the iron gates half open hung^ jarrd by the gufiy gales of many winters^ "that from its crumbled pedefial had flung one marble globe in splinters. no dog was at the threjhold, great or small ; no pigeon on the roof — no houfehold creature no cat demurely dozing on the wall — not one domeflic feature. 28 the haunted houje no human figure stirrd^ to go or come^ no face looked forth from shut or open cafement ; no chimney smoked — there was no sign of home from parapet to bafement. with shatter d panes the graffy court was starrd 1'he time-worn coping-stone had tumbled after ! and thro the ragged roof the sky shone^ barr d with naked beam and rafter. o'er all there hung a shadow and a fear ; a senfe of myftery the spirit daunted., and said., as plain as whifper in the ear. the place is haunted ! 29 the haunted houje the floixir greiv wild and rankly as the weed^ rqfes with thiftles struggled for efpial, and vagrant plants of parafttic breeds had overgrown the dial. but gay or gloomy^ steaafaft or infirm^ no heart was there to heed the hour s duration ; all times and tides were lofi in one long term of stagnant defolation. the wren had built within the porch^ she found its quiet lonelinefs so sure and thorough ; and on the lawn^ — within its turfy mound^ — the rabbit made his burrow. 30 the haunted houfe the rabbit wild and grey^ that flitted thro' the shrubby clumps, and frijk'd, and sat, and vanijh'd but leifurely and bold, as if he knew his enemy was banijh'd. the wary crow, — the pheafant from the woods — luird by the still and everlajiing samenejs, clofe to the manfion, like domefiic broods. fed with a " shocking tamenefs^ the coot was swimming in the reedy pond, befide the water-hen, so soon affrighted ; and in the weedy moat the heron, fond of solitude, alighted. 31 the haunted houj'e the moping heron^ motionlejs and stiff. that on a stone, as silently and stilly. stood, an apparent sentinel, as if to guard the water-lily. no sound was heard except, from far away. the ringing of the witwalfs shrilly laughter. or, now and then, the chatter of the jay. that echo murmur d after. but echo never mock' d the human tongue ; some weighty crime that heaven could not pardon, a secret curje on that old building hung and its deferted garden. 32 'the haunted houfe the beds were all untouck d by hand or tool ; no footfiep mark' d the damp and mojjy gravel, each walk as green as is the mantled pool. for want of human travel. the vine unpruned, and the neglected peach, droop'd from the wall with which they used to grapple ; and on the kankerd tree, in eajy reach. rotted the golden apple. but awfully the truant shunnd the ground. the vagrant kept aloof, and daring poacher. in spite of gaps that thro' the fences round invited the encroacher. 33 the haunted houfe for over all there hung a cloud of fear, a senje of myftery the spirit daunted^ and said, as plain as ivhijper in the ear, the place is haunted ! the pear and quince lay squandered on the grafs ; the mould was purple with unheeded showers of bloomy plums — a wildernejs it was of fruits, and weeds, and flozvers ! the marigold amidjl the nettles blew. the gourd embraced the rofe-bujh in its ramble ; the thijlle and the stock together grew. the hollyhock and bramble. 34 t'he haunted houfe the bear-bine with the lilac interlaced^ the sturdy burdock choked its slender neighbour. the spicy pink. all tokens were effaced of human care and labour. the very yew formality had train d to such a rigid pyramidal stature, for want of trimming had almojl regained the raggednefs of nature. the fountain was a-dry — neglect and time had marr'd the work of artifan and mafon. and efts and croaking frogs, begot of slime. sprawl' d in the ruin d bafon. 35 d2 the haunted uouje the statue^ fallen from its marble bafe, amidft the refufe leaves^ and herbage rotten^ lay like the idol of some bygone race^ its name and rites forgotten. on evry side the afpect was the same. all ruin d, defolate, forlorn and savage : no hand or foot within the precinct came to rectify or ravage. for over all there hung a cloud of fear, a senfe of myjiery the spirit daunted. and said, as plain as whifper in the ear, the place is haunted! 36 the haunted houfe part ii o very gloomy is the houfe of woe^ where tears are falling while the bell is knelling^ with all the dark solemnities which show 'that death is in the dwelling. o very., very dreary is the room where love^ domejiic love^ no longer nejiles. but., smitten by the common stroke of doom.. the corpfe lies on the treflles ! but house of woe, and hearfe., and sable pall., the narrow home of the departed mortal., ne'er look'd so gloomy as that ghoflly hall., with its deferted portal ! 37 the haunted houfe the centipede along the threjhold crept^ the cobweb hung acrojs in mazy tangle^ and in its winding sheet the maggot slept^ at every nook and angle. the keyhole lodged the earwig and her broody the emmets of the steps had old pojfejfion^ and march' d in search of their diurnal food in undijiurb'd proceffion. as undifiurfd as the prehenftle cell of moth or maggoty or the spider s tijfue^ for never foot upon that threfjiold fell^ to enter or to ijfue. 38 the haunted houfe o'er all there hung the shadow of a fear^ a senje of myftery the spirit daunted, and said^ as plain as whijper in the ear^ 'the place is haunted ! howbeity the door i pufid — or so i dream' d — which slowly^ slowly gaped^ — the hinges creaking with such a rusty eloquence^ it seern d that time himfelf was speaking. but time was dumb within the manfion old., or left his tale to the heraldic banners., that hung from the corroded walls., and told of former men and manners : — 39 the haunted houfe tjiofe tatter d flags^ that "tvith the open d door. seem d the old wave of battle to remember. while fallen fragments danced upon the floor. like dead leaves in t)eceviber. the startled bats flew out^ — bird after bird, the screech-owl overhead began to flutter. and seemed to mock the cry that she had heard some dying victim utter ! a shriek that echo d from the joifted roof^ and up the stair^ and further still and further^ till in some ringing chamber far aloof it ceafed its tale of murther ! 40 the haunted houfe meanwhile the rufty armour rattled rounds the banner shudder d^ and the ragged streamer ; all things the horrid tenor of the sound acknowledged with a tremor. the antlers, where the helmet hung, and belt, stirrd as the tempeft stirs the foreft branches. or as the stag had trembled when he felt the bloodhound at his haunches. the window jingled in its crumbled frame. and thro' its many gaps of defiitution dolorous moans and hollow s ighings came, hike those of di/folution. 41 the haunted jloufe the woodlouje dropp'd^ and rolcd into a bally touch' d by some impulfe occult or mechanic ; and namelejs beetles ran along the wall in univerjal panic. the subtle spider^ that from overhead hung like a spy on human guilt and error. suddenly turn d and up its slender thread ran with a nimble terror. the very stains and fractures on the wall ajfuming features solemn and terrific^ hinted some tragedy of that old hall., lock' d up in hieroglyphic. 42 the haunted houfe some tale that mighty perchance^ have solved the doubt ^ wherefore amongji thoje flags so dull and livid, 'the banner of the bloody hand shone out so ominoufly vivid. some key to that infcrutahle appeal. which made the very frame of nature quiver ; and every thrilling nerve and fibre feel so ague-like a shiver. for over all there hung a cloud of fear, a senfe of my fiery the spirit daunted ; and said, as plain as whifper in the ear. the place is haunted ! 43 the haunted houfe if but a rat had linger d in the houje^ to lure the thought into a social channel i but not a rat remain d^ or tiny mouje^ to squeak behind the panel. huge drops rowd down the zvalls, as if they wept; and where the cricket ufed to chirp so shrilly., the toad was squatting., and the lizard crept on that damp hearth and chilly. for years no cheerful blaze had sparkled there., or glanced on coat of buff or knightly metal ; the slug was crawling on the vacant chair., — the snail upon the settle. 44 the haunted houfe the floor was redolent of mould and muft^ the fungus in the rotten seams had quicken d ; p^hile on the oaken table coats of duft perennially had thicken d. no mark of leathern jack or metal can^ no cup — no horn — no hofpitable token^ — all social ties between that board and man had long ago been broken. there was so foul a rumour in the air. the shadow of a presence so atrocious : no human creature could have feajied there, even the moft ferocious. for over all there hung a cloud of fear, a senfe of my fiery the spirit daunted^ and said^ as 'plain as whifper in the ear. the place is haunted ! 45 the haunted houfe part iii '•lis jiard for human actions to account^ whether from reafon or from impul/e only — but some internal prompting bade me mount the gloomy stairs and lonely. those gloomy stairs^ so dark^ and damp^ and cold^ with odours as from bones and relics carnal^ deprived of rights and conjecrated mould., the chapel vault or charnel. 46 the haunted houfe thofe dreary stairs^ where with the sounding strejs of ev'ry step so many echoes blended^ the mind^ with dark mijgivings^ feared to guefs how many feet afcended. the tempefi with its spoils had drifted in. till each unwholefome stone was darkly spotted. as thickly as the leopard' s dappled skin^ with leaves that rankly rotted. the air was thick — and in the upper gloom the hat — or something in its shape — was winging and on the wall., as chilly as a tomb. the death' s-head moth was clinging. 47 the haunted houfe that myjiic moth^ which, ivith a senje profound of all unholy prejence, augurs truly ; and with a grim significance flits round the taper burning bluely. such omens in the place there seemed to be. at evry crooked turn, or on the landing, the straining eyeball was prepared to see some apparition standing. for over all there hung a cloud of fear y a senfe of myftery the spirit daunted. and saidy as plain as whijper in the ear. the -place is haunted ! 48 the haunted houfe tet no -portentous shape the sight amazed ; each object plain ^ and tangible^ and valid ; but from their tarnijk d frames dark figures gazed^ and faces spectre-pallid. not merely with the mimic life that lies within the^com.pafs of art's simulation ; their souls were looking thro' their painted eyes with awful speculation. on evry lip a speechlefs horror dwelt ; on evry brow the burthen of affliction ; the old ancefiral spirits knew and felt the houfe's malediction. 49 the haunted houfe such earneft woe their features overcajl, they might have stirrd^ or sigh' d^ or wept, or spoken ; but, save the hollow moaning of the blafl^ the stillness zvas unbroken. no other sound or stir of life was there., except my steps in solitary clamber^ from flight to flight., from humid stair to stair. from chamber into chamber. deferted rooms of luxury and state. that old magnificence had richly furnifkd with pictures, cabinets of ancient date. and carvings gilt and burnifi d. 50 "the haunted houfe rich hangings^ storied by the needle's art with scripture hijior)\ or clajfic fable ; but all had faded, save one ragged part, jvhere cain zvas slaying abel. the ilent zvafte of mildew and the moth had marrd the tijfue with a partial ravage ; but undecaying frown' d upon the cloth each feature stern and savage. the sky was pale ; the cloud a thing of doubt ; some hues were frejh, and some decayed and duller but still the bloody hand shone strangely out with vehemence of colour ! 51 e 2 the haunted houje the bloody hand that zvith a lurid stain shone on the dujly floo}\ a dijmal token^ projected from the cajement" s fainted pancy ivhere all befide "juas broken. the bloody hand significant of crime ^ that glaring on the old heraldic banner^ had kept its crimjon unimpaired by time. in such a wondrous manner. o'er all there hung the shadow of a fear, a senfe of myflery the spirit daunted^ and saidy as plain as whijper in the ear^ the place is haunted ! 52 the haunted houje the death watch tick'' d behind the panew d oaky inexplicable tremors shook the arras^ and echoes strange and myftical awoke. the fancy to embarrajs. prophetic hints that filtd the soul with dread^ but thro one gloomy entrance pointing mofily. the while some secret injpiration said. that chamber is the ghofily ! acrojs the door no gojfamer fejloon swung pendulous — no web — no dusty fringes. no silky chryfalis or white cocoon about its nooks and hinges. 53 the haunted hcuje the spider shiinn d the interdicted room, the moth^ the beetle^ and the fly were banifli dy and where the sunbeam fell athwart the gloom the very midge had vanipid. one lonely ray that glanced upon a bed^ as if with awful aim direct and certain. to show the bloody hand in burning red embroidered on the curtain. and yet no gory stain was on the quilt — the pillow in its place had slowly rotted; the floor alone retain d the trace of guilt. those boards obfcurely spotted. 54 the haunted houfe objcurely spotted to the door, and thence with mazy doubles to the grated ca/ement — oh what a tale they told of fear intenfe^ of horror and aynazement i what human creature in the dead of night had courjed like hunted hare that cruel di fiance ? had sought the door, the window in his flight. striving for dear exiftence ? what shrieking spirit in that bloody room its mortal frame had violently quitted? — acrojs the sunbeam, with a sudden gloom, a ghoftly shadow flitted. 55 the haunted houje acrojs the sunbeam^ and along the ivall^ but fainted on the air so very dimly ^ it hardly veil'd the tapejiry at all. or portrait frowning grimly. o'er all there hung the shadow of a fear^ a senfe of myjiery the spirit daunted. and said^ as plain as whifper in the ear. the place is haunted ! 56 mftovrp ^vl^matic^^ "fey th^hooo qhc ilk^ratic>iy" ^ j . 1/ ''" ■ i>-f 4 . ^ v^. ailmv-'ill* ^u^' dreony" ^ hsve are, noihiiib el/e but dreairi/" \^inok'i-e>l , and /vlj cy^ conlic\didicnr ; .et oikerf a/^ ovr w.ofl: rcmanhc ycheme/ re /ometkiiib more ihen /i?.lionr . m &p\ be only cm. ejicj-sanie'd e'rovnd ; lit m^hl be merely hy a ibc'^ktjr expan/ico.; 40)^'^ .'^^^ke ypint or ihe /fe/k, i /c'vacl g^n old de/ei-ted yaf^njica . g^ rejidtnct /or ^/oms^n , child , ond m^ii , '^yu. cl veil uib -ploce,^nd s'd no hevbitdion; i olije,— bul" under rome prop.^.'iij f i cxccmiimt j n\ ce>ii on ..^ v^'t ^/^^^fw 1 -vwrnf" nhin^jad fhe iron^ater hal^ open kviibj , r 6)h5t /i'oin ijj" crunibled pe^wtel heel /^jui& "j//^ le rndrble j4'-''^^ ^^ jp^^'^-*^' r\;-3 o doc w<2\5 dl the mre/'holcl ,^ree»b or /mall j -ji^lo picem on ijie roc/* — no hov/diolcl ■cr'<2oti-ire — ''o) cesj' demurely doynx^ on ihe nvo.11 --/ /<r''"s^ one dcwenic /fealvre ^®^ i,v^«s^>'---"^' nci ti^ii* ill ,im '^-^;«5=^^ ^te||i:-\l^cpeii hvi^ .a^^*^ hu:iian /tenure j-hnxi , io ^ cr come , ic' /c x no chimneyymokecl there wdf no p^n c)/^^'^1on■le."■ jer <s\ there hvnc, cn jhodcw c>nd a /^r ^ f 0^=*^ jaxst of nryjterjy" ifie ypinl dounied , ^ ''^^-^ ^'^^ nd jaid e/ plain, ej" wkjper in ike ec>r , <]/ "^^ pl5ce i/jhiunied. . .w^^'^^ he f\>^r opcw wild ^ncl raiildy" cj lji£ ' v7eeclft, .jj ^j^c^ej wilk ihyilc/ jirijc^c^led /ct cspiej dd ovi ^ei^town the jjj :' 'm^^ss/^''^^i„m:' i]or oo(x dll thoe v[ 05^ or ijooipy , yi'eevd/2sjl' or iiytnn . oyyo kx-c^rt vvaj ikere i«s. ^\<i �i'enheel. ww ke rcibbil: \zi nj-^ir.c v/ory crew,tn_e phco/cnni /low. ihc woodf [ulld joy -^^^ j^ifl c:>i^ci eva"!65lip-t; j'ajikntiff, lojc to jnc '^nenpjiop. , like doip.e/hc brooclj . jie cool �c>j yvcimmii-^b in ike reedy pcnx:l q^/oejide the vcc�-lx;iv /ojoca e7?njjited •. ^ c>vj^^i-'"^ ^-2 vveedy mod: tre lierop. '^ . ». /^jclilucie , didk'-ed . ?iki "^' ^^ ks^^ moplnc, heroq , mohunlejj" c>nd jlipm'!'*-' ■.|ii!j:g!!iifiv:':':f::.lv p jcuncl we/ hc:£^rd j^ccept , /rem /sr evv7&^ , ke nntyi^ c/' the wulw^h/ j-ha\]y l^^jiter. r.ncw evp.cl ^^'^ ^^ >r, ajecret curje cri that old bvikli^ huifc^ axvd itf dejiaied qarden . ' ivl' fcho never mock'd ike humdn lonj^ue, ^/ome wei^kry" crime , tnej juledveji cculd noi pem'dcn , he bedj were cji nn.touch'd by kesud crtfc>c!. ir, {{^&i wc>lls. a/ breen e^r ij hie^ mcnnlled^ pool , j ; he viiie. unpi-liiied , csnd ]:!ie);1'i'edt^&^i-~>^i^?^^^,<k^vx: ;-^ ^ ^nd on the kcmikej-'d free, m e^ i'^^^*~^i; i^^r!t^-1;^!§^m oiled ike ^^.-ideai e^ppu, 1^"^'^ f^^'^ c ut c^^^y^'l!ly the tnios^t jknnnj. the ^ovnd , ne vcn4i"t>p-^ i^c■'p^ c^joo/^ mid jen nb pc\xhei7; ,ci' over es|l ikcie ihiiac, cn clouci/c/' /ec , o-^yeiye cf nvyiilery tiie jpinl' de\unted , j^nd /e^id , cn/ plimii (sj wky'per m tac eevr he pl^ce \j jnresvjiiltfd ' .^/ i^ ' ^x-^p(^ v^eol. 1 ._hs ke pecm csncl quince levy jqucmider'd en the b"<m|j;| he mould we^ purple v7ifk iinheeded rko^oc^. -^l .^ q/ blc)oiity piuntj — d "^^^midane^/' il' '^^^■''^^<^'^>- uj, 5.nd sv-cedj, mid '^ -' -:'''^'>*^*'' ^ 1 /lower;! -■ ;3y^|^'.^ e cmi i^yh^ lio!!y-hockeoid brcmnble. ^'^ v\' '' '[' f '^^ o jjke becsrbiae v?ita ike laisc 'lak'!"l^cal , (ij^kcjkircl^ bur-dcck chckecl ij| jlcixlci-xj^cjj^bcur, ike vti-y ^yew j^mevlib/ ke^l i^'*^"^^^ l.'^^f.c^.^j*'^ he ■idhhi^wyj ^f lu^ '-> ^>m ^ --^^k >- a^^.tf ,/. v v,» the eiijiifoin v?os n-cliy > > ^'^^ ( |i > j|ke jounlaiji wey^ c>-cuy — nccject cmk\ hme _jql?jd mevrirl tre work c/cvilifenn evncl ni^ai^n ,^ ''y /plc^w^d in /he ruin.'d be^/on jt-v.^:' p^yjik the jdol of jcmz ^^^p'^t^mc^^^^^^ 1|| mine cvnd •rite/' y^m35s^^^^syl^w;^^•'^™l'i^ n ev'i^ j"ide ine eyped w5j" ihe j'^mz , n n.iin d , de/clate, /oyloin mici /e^vev6e : hevnd or /vc\ wit-ain fne preciiki: ce ie i2 rechf^ c>r ra^evoe • 10*% x mo y^ he vv'eedy moet '; ' ' 'iv"!::-^ or over dl there hmb ?> cjolici cy^ /eesr, ^ejye of nv£/}ery the jpinl cievunjeci , q^/nind j'emcl ^ ey pjcmii evf wh^per in. mt ecv , ^:r^ 4 1 -^o 1/av ^^^^ .;rf =-. —-— jtr . .i mr. f: ;•! ■ i fl: ^^^ .^ ,^j^ l'l«^ i >^5 h a.y^^^^\ <'*■ '^.'^ a-^> v. l-. ,) ipmill" <0 veiy gloomy if ike mov/e o/^ \voe , itn c\ fh.e d.diix jcikninitiej wl^ich ykc>w ke\l dedk y ip. the "civrellint^. very , very dyecsi'y ij me room \^ kere jla^ve , dome/he love , no kmber neftle;, 4[j)ut , jm'ilteii by t common jlrcke cf doom , ^^p (t^^ oriye lie/ 011 }.(� tre|tle( 1 ' ' '' ' 'j ii (jilep^rl-ed n^cl1(^l , he i^evrrow hoine ^ -^-i> • vf:" n^ -^ \ v x. (the ceiihpcde cslonh ihe tkre/hcld crept , ^|he cobweb hui\6 dciof/" in. mazy l-im\l'le , ey%d m i� vtindm^ jbeet fke mc 6c\i jkp\ , [ evciy nock cni^^d cii6le *^ he keyi")cle jc'd6ed ccsrwi^ mid her brooci , (f ll^c cm)^k\j of the /lep/ hcsd jc pojjejsion , c/ilnd itimched in jee ck o/ ikeir diu)-j-)2\l /cod jjn undijfurbecl pidce^ion vj/ mcfl^ or niev^bol-. ci tt� ypidct)*'/ tijfuertr'"^ jcpr never /coi upon lae»l thre/hold /til, kf)^ mjlo enjei' or io liiue,. ^im 2 'ei' d) there huh5 fife j^hilov^^g/^ ts %^jo\j(l op m^t/kry the" ypirit dduiitecl , [he pl2 e'l ae^'ct /cot upt'p. \ha ,jl/\owbcit , t"kc doer i pufh d — or jo x clrecmnd vs/hi<^h ylt'wly, jlc'wly 6c\pcd , — lae kia^e/ cit-ovkind v ^jjitr\ yi^ch cn ru/ty doc^ence. , it" jeemed. \ ^ | '1* 0:^ or r w'-^st ul" (jm^e wd/ dumb �iihin 'alkc>ty�mtj'ion cjd (or le/j k]/ }c^le te ike hcroklic bc^nn.cr/". iihci] kunb /fom the concded xvcjif , mid fold yormer men dnd mminerf. (^ijhc/etdtej""d a<>^ , tkca witk the opep.'d door, /ean d. the eld wevve of bcsmz to reinanber , v^kile /e^hep. /rcnbiv.ci'dj' sj^nced upon ike /joor, jke decnd leave; in jldec^rnber ike j-teii/ccl b^ /fewolii, — bn-d cybr bm' , ke ycrecch — owl cverhe<^d bc&on to /ititta" , nd /ccmcd to mock tkc cry thevl jlie kevcl kcm'd ome dyiiib victim ulter ! (^c)/nljhnck lhe\l echo'd /rem ike ]o� ike evntleij , where \ ^ he wmxlc'vc^ unblc£l v\ � crun^bled /rw-ne , (^x/jib*^ ^-^'^ ^--^ mcmiy ^pj of dzjiiuaion . i .'4 ^^^ ^^n^ wmwp k-'imnfm^' '^v ' • ^^|l" " no/see loc'ka/erfl^. kc wocd-loli[£ clioppcd, mki rolled m\o cn boli, jjoijck'd by jcmc inipulje occult or mcchismc/;/ fvgmd namelerr beetlef ran. cslonb^jke vsali'', / _ j[ii univer/'al pc^l1lc jr^^:?^^^^^^ v^'v tun^'d mid up ][f jich<^<^r thread cm1 wlti\ d niinble teitor" cjx'j^^umin^ /e^tu^ef ydcmn. ^nd terri/ic , ji^\inred yome ^^^edy c/^ ihd eld he^ll , [ock'd up m hiercblvphic ome ble thd mi^kt , perchcmke , hove reived the doubl' , hcre^re enmci-^i" iho/£ fi?^ jo dull fti<6' livjd , ^ bc^nncr of tke bmxpqy ]^n^j'-h'0!le vjo oti-up.oufiy vivid out iov[ jp bul cn i'c>t kescl im^c) ci jn tke koi^e , jj ic lure the ihciibht into r. j"ccic\l ch.cmin.e! '• i^'l ,_.lkut not ^ rcsi remcmi')"d or tiivy mouye /l"^! ^2b^ feo jqupl^ bdmiid the f^i^4"i^tf^^^£^^" ' ' ■w-i'^*i-, lube d /or yec^rj }-)0 chcei/ia hlcof, hc^d jpisiklecl ikcie r 6lemiced on cool of bu/p or knibhllst md&l; / j"jiil; w^ a"c^vvlln6 cmti ' ihe 'y«^c^snt^^h^^^::a (f ke /iocr we^ redoleiit op i^iould '£mt(d"~lriu/t ^ j[he /ui^.^ty 111 ine loucn jccswj hc■^d ciuiickeii'd •, yvnile on the ceskei^ ievble co^]| op ciufl j-^rennic>lkr he\d ihicken.'d . ojyo itjcmk of lec ncrn ie here w^; jo /l-u\ es rumour m [ke e^ir, jlhe jkc\dow ^ e\ prc/cnce jo ^^kco.ouj ■ q r^o hi-imgvn creeslurc ccmld kesvt /eafleci ikere ci^. ike nuy} /crcciou/" vci^. / .^/jt-^..'! t^ r^ cloud o/" ?_y%/^j^ of m.yjh-y ihe /pu'it dexuiited -.^^ ke pl^ce j/ jh.dunted ' ''^^^^ ^ci "^^^^? .,r -m ^. _ —^^i^^^im^i?;w :**'»=•^,>'t .ill) 'i ^r' ^"%*m^^isate?fi c ij hem'd /or human. ^adioiix 'to a.^^nt' , ctkcr from rcofon. oi/rom in>puj|e onht" ■^" [ jt'me inicrnevl promptuib bade me nicui-^!: le docnp.y j^'^^it <3i^-d icnciy kcye ^icohty vjcnict, j'o dark, jodomp, j"o odd ' vvifk oclc'lirf &^ fujni bonef and reijcf airnal , vllj^-prived of �\ and coii/ecroled ip.culd. , ke ch^pe! vcjuit ajid ckarnd ■~^^ joclemp , jo colci, , ' it-f hc'/e dreciry"' j^curf , wh.cre with. tke^^jigmno'.^^iejr or '^'^'j'y y^cp /o many cchocf blended /■ ''z;^,-:!: ike mind , with dark mij'6iv-in&/ , /ecvred b bue/t ow many /ecf ofccnded . [ne tempc/-! with itj jpoilf had dii/fed iii, jiil each uiiwhde/tniie yk-iie wof darkly ypctled ^^^-^l/ thickyof the iecpardf dcippled j%n ^ ,l\k lee^ve/that raiilxkr rotted <fukc cmi wo; thick — emid in ihc upper blocm |h.e bevt — or /oincthinb in. dj j"hape — woj* ^^^in^l'n6 , ,^^__^y^r\d cj1 tl^e vvtcnii , c^ chilly ^ a icinb 5|ke j3ee k/^jhe^d mc4 we>; cjm^in^ o/ ciil unholy prcjoact, cju&ur; iiujj^'^'^ /3ind vvitk a brim jl5m/iccmce aim io^dk'" jhe toper burnn\5 bluely ji^^'^omen/ in ike phct tkcre /eem'd to be , i cvi 'y crocked turn , cr on the laixlmt' , he j-'lrcmn.ih'c> eyeb<f>ll waj prepereci kjtt /omc /ippcm^'iticn. jtcmidiiib .or over oil iherc hi^inc e^ clcud of /ec ^^^^x^ jo^j^ of htyjrery hie ypu'it dauniccl , ici r<j^ici , esf plcmh cij" whifper iii tke ear , vei no poiteatouf ^kevpe the /idw^^p«>^:d ;'i||'il'-^ ([^ch object plain, and tanblble j:ii;i^||ik^^:l3l*'..ii9j! ikut /rem their icmi-dfii'ci a-^ins oy^itid jlsvcef ypedre pallid, i^-'-. ^_ji^ xol" merely wilhlkc inimic ii/e ^athia the ccit!f a/j" ofly\ilf jimulalica j (flkeir j'oulj* were k'ckinb ti^.ro' their painted eye/ ^^lih aw/ul j-pecuicnlion. . ([j)i\ cvry lip cn ypecchkjj" hoiroldwelt , '^im"^ '^ ev'ry brow me burthen of 'cmjidion•^fflfvn-^'jf ke jpvpa/ej' metedidien uch earner^ woe ikeir /kduicj ovefba/t , key mi^t hexve flind . ci jiui'd . cr �tpl: , or /pokcn. ut , yove the hollow mc>aninb o/' ihe bieyl , ke /hllaen" waj unbixiken rr^ ■ -liter f it f' 11 ■-' -^^/^ de/ertel ;t)i)iii/ if ltx "kr — \ ' and j^oit' ^j:!* o v ut\' /ouiid or yhr of life wo/ tl-iti'e .xapt my j'lepj in yclitaiy clamber , , hrl^ni /"liw-it k' /li6h.t , /rem kum.id ylciir tl'jloin,; c>^cm chambci into chamber """''t^-^'^' „ ':^s=jiwfi^ ikat ekl mati-ii/tcencc had richly /urni/h ci'i ^ ^^^ith piclure/' ccibi'net/" o/" ancieni date lul caiwinb^ bilt and bumi/k'd ch heipl'inci , jhned bv itie "needle',' ^ o ihfcnplurz hi/toiy , or clajjic /able, ^ ^' . m ls«^iwm uf dl he>d /bded . j6.vc one ro56ed psrf ,i ^. ere {p^m wq/ ( ne jilepl wa/te of mildew e^n.cf the molk. _ ll^ nr.l mcut'd the tixfue �ifk a partial rovev^e, i)ut undece^yuib acwn'd upon. ikc cloth le jky wcj p<:>ie ■, the cicad £\ thin?:' of doubt ^ jjome -kuef weic fejh , and jome decay 'd ciad dulla" jj ul jfdl tke b'^'o'^ rvmrid acns. jlronbely out vv't^ vehemence of colour ! /and lha[ wifk a [mna f!c \. /hone oil tne du/fy /iccr, o di/nx'j^^ic''^^^^-' .^ere csw be/ide w(5/ broken mlke j5)w<q^ hand /i^m/icanl o/' cnme , ihoi" dcirmb en the del herc>ldic banner, jl ([jper all tkere hun.^ lae /.kenclow of <^ y^r . /^ j^^y^ ^r my/tery the jpn'^^ daunieci . nd juici of piau\ a/ whyper m iim? ^. "jie place \j jl^uiikd ! ke j_j)egtk v/cifch tick'd behuid iiie panel! cl oak, jjnexpliccnbk irenicr/* /hock the. smta/ , nd echoef yironce ^nd mxi/iical eswoke , rcpheiic hhitf ihcni /[lid the jou\ wilh drcocl, ^ j)ul ifiro one •blooiri^'" entrance pouihnfe, mo/ti^.' ' , ^ l|l he^wkilc yome j*eciei in/piknlion ^id , '^^^^"^'^^ ^ -/ ' m r,: ^\i ^rr'.u -t-je p»^ /i ii v 1 uqw' ^'t'^.r^ -^'' ^ iii' hi el' 'mil hs^ m -^[y:s. but tfu'o' one i £-loojny eiiti'cmicc ,^5^wlin^ peaduiour — nc web — no dufl^^iiyru'y^,'^^. __ jl ^ ao j"i!iv/" chr^jevli; or vvhite acco; (l/)�out \j ik'ckf and hini:)e/'. i ^h.e jpiclcr jkunn d ike jnia'dided room , i he inotk , the betne , and the /ly vvere bcmi/k d , jid vv'+iere the junbeam /^li atkwcmi ihe bk'<-"'i"i-"i [he vajy budte had vcmi/k' d ([^ic icnet'y ray that glanced upon o\3ccl., c^: _ if wlik ciw/ul aim dircct ai-\dl certai^.^f, / v ['mbrciclerecl on. the curtair^' mtr '-•-k mm \ //' /"''j ■' ''v 1 upon & ncl yei no ^cry ylaiii vvoj" on the oijilt — _j[ke pillciw jji il/" place had jicwiy rotted i ^ijme /loor alone retain 'd the irace of bmilr , j[h.o;e bccird/' cbycurely" ypoiied . otycurely jpciied b ihe door , and. thence ilk moz^y" clou bier io the brated aiy6niei^^-v;^*''j \j)h. whai a tale ikey bid o/" /mr r'^t^^2ti[;^'ijf<*|^ qjy korrcf and omcgement >^/hal: human creature ia hne dead, o/'ni^t ^^jqad cour/ecl lik.e kui-died. hare "that cruel dyiiuice' ir^ ad jou^lii ike door , ike v7indow~ m hi/* /i^ , ^^^invni^ /or dear e/ylaice' hai rhnekinb (fpini: in ikcit bkjfdyfjro^ jt/" mortal /r-ame had violeatij^ ;^j^ (o_^/k^i'qj/ the /unbeairv , with a^«iq|i.ei\'^.^ ^^^gx^itly fhadowykted. .;j x , ^*^-,,,«;f ';"3ny q^^p^crcjf fhe /unbeai-n , aacl evlcp.5 the wail, yojul poiiifed on the air jo very diinly, j^ kardly v-eil'd ike tape/fry ^t ail , (m)r pcrtrciit /fownin^ g;rimhr (mjcr al! there hud-6 h.-ie, /hciclovst c^ a /ecu", c/xj^iye cv" mvtfteiy tke jplrii daunted , �d j-dul.oj plaax of whi/per in ike asr , ike place if jr"^aunted ^ih^ 'y' ^ m university of california library los angeles this book is due on the last date stamped below. form l9-40m-7.'56(c790s4)444 m hood ii797 the haunted house h22 pr 1797 h29 pr4797 m^q""^ yr •h29 '''/i'fii, l 009 539 it; uc southern regional library facilit a a 001 427 215 169 157 the cantervii le ghost the gift of roy leventritt the canterville ghost -----= （−）=== “the ghost glided on more swiftly ’’ #he (ſaltteruille (§hmat an amusing chronicle of the tribulations of the ghost of canterville chase when his ancestral halls became the home of the american minister to the court of st. james. £g wilde jilustrateh tig wallace goldsmith 19|iii; john w. luce and company $natuit attà initianit har v2.ſ. 5 university l b r a ſº. aug 24 1961 list of illustrations page “the ghost glided on more swiftly" frontispiece miss virginia. e. otis . e e “had once raced onlp lord bilton on her pony" • e e e • “blood has been spilled on that spot'' “i really must insist on your olling those chains " . e • e e • “the twins . . . at once discharged two pellets on him " . e e “its head was bald and burnished " e • “he met with a sever e fall’” . e “a heavy jug of water fell right down on him " e e e e e “making satirical remarks on the photographs ’’ . e e • “suddenly there leaped out two figures” “‘poor, poor ghost,” she murmured; ‘have you no place where you can sleep p’” “he heard somebody galloping after him" . “out on the landing stepped virginia’” e 7 i4 23 33 47 57 61 v list of illustrations page “chained to it was a gaunt skeleton" ios “by the side of the hearse and the coaches walked the servants with lighted torches ’’. . 107 “the moon came out from behind a cloud” . i ii the canterville ghost i hen mr. hiram b. otis, the american minister, bought canterville chase, every one told him he was doing a very foolish thing, as there was no doubt at all that the place was haunted. indeed, lord canterville himself, who was a man of the most punctilious honour, had felt it his duty to mention the fact to mr. otis when they came to discuss terms. “we have not cared to live in the place ourselves,” said lord canter1 the canterville ghost ville, “since my grandaunt, the dowager duchess of bolton, was frightened into a fit, from which she never really recovered, by two skeleton hands being placed on her shoulders as she was dressing for dinner, and i feel bound to tell you, mr. otis, that the ghost has been seen by several living members of my family, as well as by the rector of the parish, the rev. augustus dampier, who is a fellow of king's college, cambridge. after the unfortunate accident to the duchess, none of our younger servants would stay with us, and lady canterville often got very little sleep at night, in consequence of the mysteri2 the canterville ghost ous noises that came from the corridor and the library.” “my lord,” answered the minister, “i will take the furniture and the ghost at a valuation. i have come from a modern country, where we have everything that money can buy; and with all our spry young fellows painting the old world red, and carrying off your best actors and prima-donnas, i reckon that if there were such a thing as a ghost in europe, we'd have it at home in a very short time in one of our public museums, or on the road as a show.” “i fear that the ghost exists,” said lord canterville, smiling, “ though it may have resisted the overtures of 3 the canterville ghost your enterprising impresarios. it has been well known for three centuries, since 1584 in fact, and always makes its appearance before the death of any member of our family.” “well, so does the family doctor for that matter, lord canterville. but there is no such thing, sir, as a ghost, and i guess the laws of nature are not going to be suspended for the british aristocracy.” “you are certainly very natural in america,” answered lord canterville, who did not quite understand mr. otis's last observation, “and if you don’t mind a ghost in the house, it is all right. only you must remember i warned you.” 4 the canterville ghost a few weeks after this, the purchase was concluded, and at the close of the season the minister and his family went down to canterville chase. mrs. otis, who, as miss lucretia r. tappan, of west 53d street, had been a celebrated new york belle, was now a very handsome, middle-aged woman, with fine eyes, and a superb profile. many american ladies on leaving their native land adopt an appearance of chronic ill-health, under the impression that it is a form of european refinement, but mrs. otis had never fallen into this error. she had a magnificent constitution, and a really wonderful amount of animal spirits. indeed, in many respects, she was quite 5 the canterville ghost english, and was an excellent example of the fact that we have really everything in common with america nowadays, except, of course, language. her eldest son, christened washington by his parents in a moment of patriotism, which he never ceased to regret, was a fair-haired, rather goodlooking young man, who had qualified himself for american diplomacy by leading the german at the newport casino for three successive seasons, and even in london was well known as an excellent dancer. gardenias and the peerage were his only weaknesses. otherwise he was extremely sensible. miss virginia e. otis was a little girl of fifteen, lithe and lovely as a fawn, 6 miss virginia. e. otis a blu the canterville ghost and with a fine freedom in her large blue eyes. she was a wonderful amazon, and had once raced old lord bilton on her pony twice round the park, w in n in g by a length and a half, just in front of the a chille s statue, to the huge de light of the you ng duke of cheshire, who proposed for her on the spot, and was sent back to eton that very night by his guardians, in floods of tears. after virginia came the twins, who were usually called “the star and stripes,” as they were always getting swished. 9 * lºº. the canterville ghost they were delightful boys, and, with the exception of the worthy minister, the only true republicans of the family. as canterville chase is seven miles from ascot, the nearest railway station, mr. otis had telegraphed for a waggonette to meet them, and they started on their drive in high spirits. it was a lovely july evening, and the air was delicate with the scent of the pinewoods. now and then they heard a wood-pigeon brooding over its own sweet voice, or saw, deep in the rustling fern, the burnished breast of the pheasant. little squirrels peered at them from the beech-trees as they went by, and the rabbits º away 10 (a rar the canterville ghost through the brushwood and over the mossy i. s, with their white tails in the air. as they entered the avenue of canterville chase, however, the sky became suddenly overcast with clouds, a curious stillness seemed to hold the atmosphere, a great flight of rooks-3 passed silently over their heads, and, before they reached the house, some big drops of rain had fallen. standing on the steps to receive them was an old woman, neatly dressed in black silk, with a white cap and apron. this was mrs. umney, the housekeeper, whom mrs. otis, at lady canterville's earnest request, had consented to keep in her former position. she made them each a low curt3-32 º 11 the canterville ghost sey as they alighted, and said in a quaint, old-fashioned manner, “i bid you welcome to canterville chase.” following her, they passed through the fine tudor hall into the library, a long, low room, panelled in black eak, at the end of which was a large stained glass window. here they found tea laid out for them, and, after taking off their wraps, they sat down and began to look round, while mrs. umney waited on them. suddenly mrs. otis caught sight of a dull red stain on the floor just by the fireplace, and, quite unconscious of what it really signified, said to mrs. umney, “i am afraid something has been spilt there.” 12 the canterville ghost “yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.” “how horrid!” cried mrs. otis; “i don’t at all care for blood-stains in a sitting-room. it must be removed at once.” the old woman smiled, and answered in the same low, mysterious voice, “it is the blood of lady eleanore de canterville, who was murdered on that very spot by her own husband, sir simon de canterville, in 1575. sir simon survived her nine years, and disappeared suddenly under very mysterious circumstances. his body has never been discovered, but his guilty spirit still haunts the chase. the º * 13 the canterville ghost blood-stain has been much admired by tourists and others, and cannot be removed.” “that is all nonsense,” cried washington otis; “pinkerton's champion stain remover and paragon detergent will clean it up in no time,” and before the terrified housekeeper could interfere, he had fallen upon his knees, and was rapidly scouring the floor with a small stick of what looked like a black cosmetic. in a few moments no trace of the blood-stain could be seen. “i knew pinkerton would do it,” he 14 the canterville ghost exclaimed, triumphantly, as he looked round at his admiring family; but no sooner had he said these words than a terrible flash of lightning lit up the r 2. are sombre room, a fearful peal of thunder rº. % mant made them all start to their feet, and mrs. umney fainted. , , “what a monstrous climatel” said the american minister, calmly, as he lit a long cheroot. “i guess the old country is so overpopulated that they have not enough decent weather for everybody. i have always been of opinion that emigration is the only thing for england.” “my dear hiram,” cried mrs. otis, “what can we do with a woman who faints?” -*15 the canterville ghost “charge it to her like breakages,” answered the minister; “she won’t faint after that; ” and in a few moments mrs. umney certainly came to. there was no doubt, however, that she was extremely upset, and she sternly warned mr. otis to beware of some trouble coming to the house. “i have seen things with my own eyes, sir,” she said, “that would make any christian's hair stand on end, and many and many a night i have not closed my eyes in sleep for the awful things that are done here.” mr. otis, however, and his wife warmly assured the honest soul that they were not afraid of ghosts, and, after invoking the blessings of providence on her new 16 the canterville ghost master and mistress, and making arrangements for an increase of salary, the old housekeeper tottered off to her owi) i’ooim. 17 – . . . . tº ghost and over the , lite tails in the avenue ºver, the sky with clouds, tº--_s sº tººl to hold the -light of rooks -º – ºver their heads, and, --=ººd the house, some fallen. the steps to receive tº woman, neatly *-itº a white cap was mrs. umney, hom mrs. otis, at earnest request, had in her former posi*them each a low curtº * the canterville ghost ii he storm raged fiercely all that night, but nothing of particular note occurred. the next morning, however, when they came down to breakfast, they found the terrible stain of blood once again on the floor. “i don’t think it can be the fault of the paragon detergent,” said washington, “for i have tried it with everything. it must be the ghost.” he accordingly rubbed out the stain a second time, but the second morning it appeared again. the third morn18 the canterville ghost ing also it was there, though the library had been locked up at night by mr. otis himself, and the key carried up-stairs. the whole family were now quite interested; mr. otis began to suspect that he had been too dogmatic in his denial of the existence of ghosts, mrs. otis expressed her intention of joining the psychical society, and washington prepared a long letter to messrs. myers and podmore on the subject of the permanence of sanguineous stains when connected with crime. that night all doubts about the objective existence of phantasmata were removed for ever. the day had been warm and sunny; and, in the cool of the evening, the 19 the canterville ghost whole family went out to drive. they did not return home till nine o'clock, when they had a light supper. the conversation in no way turned upon ghosts, so there were not even those primary conditions of receptive expectations which so often precede the presentation of psychical phenomena. the subjects discussed, as i have since learned from mr. otis, were merely such as form the ordinary conversation of cultured americans of the better class, such as the immense superiority of miss fanny devonport over sarah bernhardt as an actress; the difficulty of obtaining green corn, buckwheat cakes, and hominy, even in the best english houses; the importance of 20 the canterville ghost boston in the development of the world-soul; the advantages of the baggage-check system in railway travelling; and the sweetness of the new york accent as compared to the london drawl. no mention at all was made of the supernatural, nor was sir simon de canterville alluded to in any way. at eleven o'clock the family retired, and by half-past all the lights were out. some time after, mr. otis was awakened by a curious noise in the corridor, outside his room. it sounded like the clank of metal, and seemed to be coming nearer every moment. he got up at once, struck a match, and looked at the time. it was exactly one o'clock. he was quite 21 the canterville ghost º º ſ . zº. & a ſºrt & calm, and felt his pulse, which was not at all feverish. the strange noise still continued, and with it he heard distinctly the sound of footsteps. he put on his slippers, took a small oblong phial out of his dressing-case, and opened the door. right in front of him he saw, in the wan moonlight, an old man of terrible aspect. his eyes were as red burning coals; long grey hair fell over his shoulders in matted º coils; his garments, which were of ------antique cut, were soiled and ragged, and from his wrists and ankles hung 43 ºf . jº, rºrº (?,* ºf ºl heavy manacles and rusty gyves. “my dear sir,” said mr. otis, “i really must insist on your oiling those chains, and have brought you for that º, iſ ºr 22 the canterville ghost purpose a small bottle of the tammany rising sun lubricator. it is said to be completely efficacious upon one application, and there are several testimonials to that effect on the wrapper from some of our most eminent native divines. i shall leave it here 28 the canterville ghost º jo for you by the bedroom candles, and will be happy to supply you with more, should you require it.” with these words the united states minister laid the bottle down on a marble table, and, closing his door, retired to rest. for a moment the canterville ghost stood quite motionless in natural indignation; then, dashing the bottle violently upon the polished floor, he fled down the corridor, uttering hollow. hºnºn groans, and emitting a ghastly greenlº light. just, however, as he reached the top of the great oak staircase, a door was flung open, two little whiterobed figures appeared, and a large pillow whizzed past his head! there 24 the canterville ghost was evidently no time to be lost, so, hastily adopting the fourth dimension of space as a means of escape, he vanished through the wainscoting, and the house became quite quiet. on reaching a small secret chamber in the left wing, he leaned up against a moonbeam to recover his breath, and began to try and realize his position. never, in a brilliant and uninterrupted career of three hundred years, had he been so grossly insulted. he thought of the dowager duchess, whom he had frightened into a fit as she stood before the glass in her lace and diamonds; of the four housemaids, who had gone into hysterics when he merely grinned at them through the yvy vºcº 25 the canterville ghost curtains on one of the spare bedrooms; of the rector of the parish, whose candle he had blown out as he was coming late one night from the library, and who had been under the care of sir william gull ever since, a perfect martyr to nervous disorders; and of old madame de tremouillac, who, having wakened up one morning early and seen a skeleton seated in an armchair by the fire reading her diary, had been confined to her bed for six weeks with an attack of brain fever, and, on her recovery, had become reconciled to the church, and broken off her connection with that notorious sceptic, monsieur de voltaire. he remembered the terrible night when --------------------------1-#2-####26 the canterville ghost the wicked lord canterville was found choking in his dressing-room, with the gº ºf diamonds half-way down his throat, and confessed, just before he died, that he had cheated charles james fox out of £50,000 at crockford's by means of that very card, and º, swore that the ghost had made him —s swallow it. all his great achievements 4 came back to him again, from the butler who had shot himself in the pantry because he had seen a green hand tapping at the window-pane, to the beautiful lady stutfield, who was always obliged to wear a black velvet band round her throat to hide the mark of five fingers burnt upon her white skin, and who drowned herself at last 27 the canterville ghost in the carp-pond at the end of the king's walk. with the enthusiastic egotism of the true artist, he went over his most celebrated performances, and smiled bitterly to himself as he recalled to mind his last appearance as “red reuben, or the strangled babe,” his début as “guant gibeon, the blood-sucker of bexley moor,” and the furore he had excited one lovely june evening by merely playing ninepins with his own bones upon the lawn-tennis, ground. and after all this some wretched modern americans were to come and offer him the rising sun lubricator, and throw pillows at his head! it was quite unbearable. besides, no ghost in history had 28 the canterville ghost ever been treated in this manner. accordingly, he determined to have vengeance, and remained till daylight in an attitude of deep thought. 29 the canterville ghost iii he next morning, when the otis family met at breakfast, they discussed the ghost at some length. the united states minister was naturally a little annoyed to find that his present had not been accepted. “i have no wish,” he said, “to do the ghost any personal injury, and i must say that, considering the length of time he has been in the house, i don't think it is at all polite to throw pillows at him,” — a very just remark, at which, i am sorry to say, the twins 30 the canterville ghost burst into shouts of laughter. “upon the other hand,” he continued, “if he really declines to use the rising sun lubricator, we shall have to take his chains from him. it would be quite impossible to sleep, with such a noise going on outside the bedrooms.” for the rest of the week, however, they were undisturbed, the only thing that excited any attention being the continual renewal of the blood-stain on the library floor. this certainly was very strange, as the door was always locked at night by mr. otis, and the windows kept closely barred. the chameleon-like colour, also, of the stain excited a good deal of comment. some mornings it was a dull (almost 31 the canterville ghost indian) red, then it would be vermilion, then a rich purple, and once when they came down for family prayers, according to the simple rites of the free american reformed episcopalian church, they found it a bright emerald-green. these kaleidoscopic changes naturally amused the party very much, and bets on the subject were freely made every evening. the only person who did not enter into the joke was little virginia, who, for some unexplained reason, was always a good deal distressed at the sight of the blood-stain, and very nearly cried the morning it was emerald-green. the second appearance of the ghost was on sunday night. shortly after 32 “the twins . . . at once discharged two pellets on him '' – his the canterville ghost they had gone to bed they were suddenly alarmed by a fearful crash in the hall. rushing down-stairs, they found that a large suit of old armour had become detached from its stand, and had fallen on the stone floor, while seated in a high-backed chair was the canterville ghost, rubbing his knees with an expression of acute agony on his face. the twins, having brought their pea-shooters with them, at once discharged two pellets on him, with that accuracy of aim which can only be attained by long and careful practice on a writing-master, while the united states minister covered him with his revolver, and called upon him, in accordance with californian eti35 the canterville ghost quette, to hold up his hands! the ghost started up with a wild shriek of rage, and swept through them like a mist, extinguishing washington otis's candle as he passed, and so leaving them all in total darkness. on reaching the top of the staircase he recovered himself, and determined to give his celebrated peal of demoniac laughter. this he had on more than one occasion found extremely useful. it was said to have turned lord raker's wig grey in a single night, and had certainly made three of lady canterville's french governesses give warning before their month was up. he accordingly laughed his most horrible laugh, till the old vaulted roof 36 the canterville ghost rang and rang again, but hardly had the fearful echo died away when a door opened, and mrs. otis came out in a light blue dressing-gown. “i am afraid you are far from well,” she said, “and have brought you a bottle of doctor dobell's tincture. if it is indigestion, you will find it a most excellent remedy.” the ghost glared at her in fury, and began at once to make preparations for turning himself into a large black dog, an accomplishment for which he was justly renowned, and to which the family doctor always attributed the permanent idiocy of lord canterville's uncle, the hon. thomas horton. the sound of approaching foot87 the canterville ghost steps, however, made him hesitate in his fell purpose, so he contented himself with . becoming faintly phosphorescent, and vanished with a deep churchyard groan, just as the twins had come up to him. on reaching his room he entirely broke down, and became a prey to the most violent agitation. the vulgarity of the twins, and the gross materialism of mrs. otis, were naturally extremely annoying, but what really distressed him most was that he had been unable to wear the suit of mail. he had hoped that even modern americans would be thrilled by the sight of a spectre in armour, if for no more sensible reason, at 38 the canterville ghost least out of respect for their natural poet longfellow, over whose graceful and attractive poetry he himself had whiled away many a weary hour when the cantervilles were up in town. besides it was his own suit. he had worn it with great success at the kenilworth tournament, and had been highly complimented on it by no less a person than the virgin queen herself. yet when he had put it on, he had been completely overpowered by the weight of the huge breastplate and steel casque, and had | fallen heavily on the stone pavement, ºf barking both his knees severely, and bruising the knuckles of his right hand. azzº 39 ſº. a … : • *-** * the canterville ghost for some days after this he was extremely ill, and hardly stirred out of his room at all, except to keep the blood-stain in proper repair. however, by taking great care of himself, he recovered, and resolved to make a third attempt to frighten the united states minister and his family. . he selected friday, august 17th, for his appearance, and spent most of that day in looking over his wardrobe, ultimately deciding in favour of a large slouched hat with a red feather, a winding-sheet frilled at the wrists and neck, and a rusty dagger. towards evening a violent storm of rain came on, and the wind was so high that all the windows and doors in the 40 the canterville ghost old house shook and rattled. in fact, it was just such weather as he loved. his plan of action was this. he was to make his way quietly to washington otis's room, gibber at him from the foot of the bed, and stab himself three times in the throat to the sound of low music. he bore washington a special grudge, being quite aware that it was he who was in the habit of removing the famous canterville blood-stain by means of pinkerton's paragon detergent. having reduced the reckless and foolhardy youth to a condition of abject terror, he was then to proceed to the room occupied by the united states minister and his wife, and there to place 41 the canterville ghost a clammy hand on mrs. otis's forehead, while he hissed into her trembling husband's ear the awful secrets of the charnel-house. with regard to little virginia, he had not quite made up his mind. she had never insulted him in any way, and was pretty and gentle. a few hollow groans from the wardrobe, he thought, would be more than sufficient, or, if that failed to wake her, he might grabble at the counterpane with palsytwitching fingers. as for the twins, he was quite determined to teach them a lesson. the first thing to be done was, of course, to sit upon their chests, so as to produce the stifling sensation of nightmare. then, as 42 the canterville ghost their beds were quite close to each other, to stand between them in the form of a green, icy-cold corpse, till they became paralyzed with fear, and finally, to throw off the windingsheet, and crawl round the room, with white, bleached bones and one rolling eyeball, in the character of “dumb daniel, or the suicide's skeleton,” a röle in which he had on more than one occasion produced a great effect, and which he considered quite equal to his famous part of “martin the maniac, or the masked mystery.” at half-past ten he heard the family going to bed. for some time he was disturbed by wild shrieks of 43 the canterville ghost laughter from the twins, who, with the light-hearted gaiety of schoolboys, were evidently amusing themselves before they retired to rest, but at a quarter-past eleven all was still, and, as midnight sounded, he sallied forth. the owl beat against the windowpanes, the raven croaked from the old yew-tree, and the wind wandered moaning round the house like a lost soul; but the otis family slept unconscious of their doom, and high above the rain and storm he could hear the steady snoring of the minister for the united states. he stepped stealthily out of the wainscoting, with an evil smile on his cruel, wrinkled mouth, and the moon hid her 44 the canterville ghost face in a cloud as he stole past the great oriel window, where his own arms and those of his murdered wife were blazoned in azure and gold. on and on he glided, like an evil shadow, the very darkness seeming to loathe him as he passed. once he thought he heard something call, and stopped; but it was only the baying of a dog from the red farm, and he went on, muttering strange sixteenth-century curses, and ever and anon brandishing the rusty dagger in the midnight air. finally he reached the corner of the passage that led to luckless washington's room. for a moment he paused there, the wind blowing his long grey locks about his head, and 45 the canterville ghost twisting into grotesque and fantastic folds the nameless horror of the dead man's shroud. then the clock struck the quarter, and he felt the time was come. he chuckled to himself, and turned the corner; but no sooner had he done so than, with a piteous wail of terror, he fell back, and hid his blanched face in his long, bony hands. right in front of him was standing a horrible spectre, motionless as a carven image, and monstrous as a madman's dream! its head was bald and burnished; its face round, and fat, and white; and hideous laughter seemed to have writhed its features into an eternal grin. from the eyes streamed rays of scarlet light, 46 the canterville ghost the mouth was a wide well of fire, and a hideous garment, like to his own, swathed with its silent snows the titan form. on its breast was a pla card with crime, and, with its right hand, it bore aloft a falchion of gleaming steel. never having seen a ghost before, he naturally was terribly frightened, and, after a second hasty glance at strange writing in antique characters, some scroll of shame it seemed, so me record of wild sins, some awful calendar of 47 the canterville ghost the awful phantom, he fled back to his room, tripping up in his long winding-sheet as he sped down the corridor, and finally dropping the rusty dagger into the minister's jack-boots, where it was found in the morning by the butler. once in the privacy of his own apartment, he flung himself down on a small pallet-bed, and hid his face under the clothes. after a time, however, the brave old canterville spirit asserted itself, and he determined to go and speak to the other ghost as soon as it was daylight. accordingly, just as the dawn was touching the hills with silver, he returned towards the spot where he had first laid eyes on the grisly phantom, 48 the canterville ghost feeling that, after all, two ghosts were better than one, and that, by the aid of his new friend, he might safely grapple with the twins. on reaching the spot, however, a terrible sight met his gaze. something had evidently happened to the spectre, for the light had entirely faded from its hollow eyes, the gleaming falchion had fallen from its hand, and it was leaning up against the wall in a strained and uncomfortable attitude. he rushed forward and seized it in his arms, when, to his horror, the head slipped off and rolled on the floor, the body assumed a recumbent posture, and he found himself clasping a white dimity bed-curtain, with a 49 the canterville ghost sweeping-brush, a kitchen cleaver, and a hollow turnip lying at his feet! unable to understand this curious transformation, he clutched the placard with feverish haste, and there, in the grey morning light, he read these fearful words: — ye otis ghoste ye onlie true and originale spook, beware of ye imitationes. all others are counterfeite. the whole thing flashed across him. he had been tricked, foiled, and outwitted! the old canterville look came into his eyes; he ground his toothless gums together; and, raising his withered hands high above 50 the canterville ghost his head, swore according to the picturesque phraseology of the antique school, that, when chanticleer had sounded twice his merry horn, deeds of blood would be wrought, and murder walk abroad with silent feet. hardly had he finished this awful oath when, from the red-tiled roof of a distant homestead, a cock crew. he laughed a long, low, bitter laugh, and waited. hour after hour he waited, but the cock, for some strange reason, did not crow again. finally, at half-past seven, the arrival of the housemaids made him give up his fearful vigil, and he stalked back to his room, thinking of his vain oath and baffled purpose. there he con51 the canterville ghost sulted several books of ancient chivalry, of which he was exceedingly fond, and found that, on every occasion on which this oath had been used, chanticleer had always crowed a second time. … “perdition seize the *** c –naughty fowl,” he muttered, “i have seen the day when, with my stout spear, i would have run him through the gorge, and made him crow for me an 'twere in death!” he then retired to a comfortable lead coffin, and stayed there till evening. 3. 52 the canterville ghost iv he next day the ghost was very weak and tired. the terrible excitement of the last four weeks was beginning to have its effect. his nerves were completely shattered, and he started at the slightest noise. for five days he kept his room, and at last made up his mind to give up the point of the blood-stain on the library floor. if the otis family did not want it, they clearly did not deserve it. they were evidently people on a low, material plane of existence, and quite incapable 53 the canterville ghost of appreciating the symbolic value of sensuous phenomena. the question of phantasmic apparitions, and the development of astral bodies, was of course quite a different matter, and really not under his control. it was his solemn duty to appear in the corridor once a week, and to gibber from the large oriel window on the first and third wednesdays in every month, and he did not see how he could honourably escape from his obligations. it is quite true that his life had been very evil, but, upon the other hand, he was most conscientious in all things connected with the supernatural. for the next three saturdays, accordingly, he traversed the corridor as usual between 54 the canterville ghost midnight and three o'clock, taking every possible precaution against being either heard or seen. he removed his boots, trod as lightly as possible on the old worm-eaten boards, wore a large black velvet cloak, and was careful to use the rising sun lubricator for oiling his chains. i am bound to acknowledge that it was with a good deal of difficulty that he brought himself to adopt this last mode of protection. however, one night, while the family were at dinner, he slipped into mr. otis's bedroom and carried off the bottle. he felt a little humiliated at first, but afterwards was sensible enough to see that there was a great deal to be said for the invention, and, to a certain 55 the canterville ghost degree, it served his purpose. still, in spite of everything he was not left unmolested. strings were continually being stretched across the corridor, over which he tripped in the dark, and on one occasion, while dressed for the part of “black isaac, or the huntsman of hogley woods,” he met with a severe fall, through treading on a butter-slide, which the twins had constructed from the entrance of the tapestry chamber to the top of the oak staircase. this last insult so enraged him, that he resolved to make one final effort to assert his dignity and social position, and determined to visit the insolent young etonians the next night in his cele56 “he met with a severe fall '’ the canterville ghost brated character of “reckless rupert, or the headless earl.” he had not appeared in this disguise-cº's * & for more than seventy years; in fact, not since he had so frightened pretty lady barbara modish by means of it, that she suddenly broke off her engagement with the present lord canterville's grandfather, and ran away to gretna green with handsome jack castletown, declaring that nothing in the world would induce her to marry into a family that allowed such a horrible phantom to walk up and down the terrace at twilight. poor jack was afterwards shot in a duel by lord canterville on wandsworth common, and lady barbara died of a broken 59 the canterville ghost heart at tunbridge wells before the year was out, so, in every way, it had been a great success. it was, however, an extremely difficult “make-up,” if i may use such a theatrical expression in connection with one of the greatest mysteries of the supernatural, or, to employ a more scientific term, the higher-natural world, and it took him fully three hours to make his preparations. at last everything was ready, and he was very pleased with his appearance. the big leather ridingboots that went with the dress were just a little too large for him, and he could only find one of the two horsepistols, but, on the whole, he was quite satisfied, and at a quarter-past one he 60 ** a heavy jug of water fell right down on 22 him. the canterville ghost glided out of the wainscoting and crept down the corridor. on reaching the room occupied by the twins, which i should mention was called the blue bed chamber, on account of the colour of its hangings, he found the door just ajar. wishing to make an effective entrance, he flung it wide open, when a heavy jug of water fell right down on him, wetting him to the skin, and just missing his left shoulder by a couple of inches. at the same moment he heard stifled shrieks of laughter proceeding from the four-post bed. the shock to his nervous system was so great that he fled back to his room as hard as he could go, and the next day he was laid up with a severe cold. 62 the canterville ghost the only thing that at all consoled him in the whole affair was the fact that he had not brought his head with him, for, had he done so, the consequences might have been very serious. he now gave up all hope of ever frightening this rude american family, and contented himself, as a rule, with a rºº creeping about the passages in list slippers, with a thick red muffler round his throat for fear of draughts, and a small arquebuse, in case he should be attacked by the twins. the final blowscºo he received occurred on the 19th of september. he had gone down-stairs to the great entrance-hall, feeling sure that there, at any rate, he would be quite unmolested, and was amusing 63 the canterville ghost himself by making satirical remarks on the large saroni photographs of the united states minister and his wife, which had now taken the place of the canterville family pictures. he was • ‘ lºc simply but neatly clad in a long shroud,” spotted with churchyard mould, had tied up his jaw with a strip of yellow 1. vo linen, and carried a small lantern and a sexton's spade. in fact, he was dressed for the character of “jonas the graveless, or the corpse-snatcher of chertsey barn,” one of his most remarkable impersonations, and one which the cantervilles had every reason to remember, as it was the real origin of their quarrel with their neighbour, lord rufford. it was about a 64 ** making satirical remarks on the photographs ’’ {i 2^ the canterville ghost quarter-past two o'clock in the morning, and, as, fºr as he could ascertain, no one was stirring. as he was strolling towards the library, however, to see if there were any traces left of the blood-stain, suddenly there leaped out on him from a dark corner f , figures, who waved their arm wildly above their heads, and shrieke, out “boo!” in his ear. seized with a panic, which, u, 'er the circumstances, was only natur, he rushed for the staircase, but f ind washington otis waiting f im tº 'e with the big garden-syringe, bel. " thus hemmed in by his e. mies on every side, and driven almos, to bay, he vanished into the great iro.1 stove, slºt º 2 *, *, * 67 the canterville ghost ºrga f which, fortunately for him, was not lit, and had to make his way home through the flues and chimneys, arriving at his own room in a terrible state of dirt, disorder, and despair. after this he was not seen again on any nocturnal expedition. the twins lay in wait for him on several occasions, and strewed the passages with nutshells every night to the great annoyance of their parents and the servants, but it was of no avail. it was quite evident that his feelings were so wounded that he would not appear. mr. otis consequently resumed his great work on the history of the democratic party, on which he had been engaged for some years; mrs. otis organized a wonder68 | “suddenly there leaped out two figures.” the canterville ghost ful clam-bake, which amazed the whole county; the boys took to lacrosse, euchre, poker, and other american national games, and virginia rode about the lanes on her pony, accompanied by the young duke of cheshire, who had come to spend the last week of his holidays at canterville chase. it was generally assumed that the ghost had gone away, and, in fact, mr. otis wrote a letter to that effect to lord canterville, who, in reply, expressed his great pleasure at the news, and sent his best congratulations to the minister's worthy wife. the otises, however, were deceived, for the ghost was still in the house, and though now almost an invalid, was by 70 the canterville ghost no means ready to let matters rest, particularly as he heard that among the guests was the young duke of cheshire, whose grand-uncle, lord francis stilton, had once bet a hundred guineas with colonel carbury that he would play dice with the canterville ghost, and was found the next morning lying on the floor of the cardroom in such a helpless paralytic state that, though he lived on to a great age, he was never able to say anything again but “double sixes.” the story was well known at the time, though, of course, out of respect to the feelings of the two noble families, every attempt was made to hush it up, and a full account of all the circumstances con71 the canterville ghost nected with it will be found in the third volume of lord tattle's recollections of the prince regent and his friends. the ghost, then, was naturally very anxious to show that he had not lost his influence over the stiltons, with whom, indeed, he was distantly connected, his own first cousin having been married en secondes moces to the sieur de bulkeley, from whom, as every one knows, the dukes of cheshire are lineally descended. accordingly, he made arrangements for appearing to virginia's little lover in his celebrated impersonation of “the vampire monk, or the bloodless benedictine,” a performance so horrible that when old lady startup saw it, which she did on one fatal 72 the canterville ghost new year's eve, in the year 1764, she went off into the most piercing shrieks, which culminated in violent apoplexy, and died in three days, after disinheriting the cantervilles, who were her nearest relations, and leaving all her money to her london apothecary. at the last moment, however, his terror of the twins prevented his leaving his room, and the little duke slept in peace under the great feathered canopy in the royal bedchamber, and dreamed of virginia. 78 the canterville ghost v few days after this, virginia and her curlyhaired cavalier went out | riding on brockley mead-º' ows, where she tore her habit so badly cº, in getting through a hedge that, on their return home, she made up her mind to go up by the back staircase so as not to be seen. as she was running past the tapestry chamber, the door of which happened to be open, she fancied she saw some one inside, and thinking it was her mother's maid, who sometimes used to 74 the canterville ghost bring her work there, looked in to ask her to mend her habit. to her immense surprise, however, it was the canterville ghost himself! he was sitting by the window, watching the ruined gold of the yellowing trees fly through the air, and the red leaves dancing madly down the long avenue. his head was leaning on his hand, and his whole attitude was one of extreme depression. indeed, so forlorn, and so much out of repair did he look, that little virginia, whose first idea had been to run away and lock herself in her room, was filled with pity, and determined to try and comfort him. so light was her footfall, and so deep his melancholy, that 75 the canterville ghost he was not aware of her presence till she spoke to him. “i am so sorry for you,” she said, “but my brothers are going back to eton to-morrow, and then, if you behave yourself, no one will annoy you.” “it is absurd asking me to behave myself,” he answered, looking round in astonishment at the pretty little girl who had ventured to address him, lººr “quite absurd. i must rattle my chains, and groan through keyholes, | and walk about at night, if that is what you mean. it is my only reason for existing.” “it is no reason at all for existing, and you know you have been very 76 the canterville ghost 2 º' tºº.” wicked. mrs. umney told us, the first day we arrived here, that you had killed your wife.” “well, i quite admit it,” said the ghost, petulantly, “but it was a purely family matter, and concerned no one else.” “it is very wrong to kill any one,” said virginia, who at times had a sweet puritan gravity, caught from some old new england ancestor. “oh, i hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics! my wife was very plain, never had my ruffs properly starched, and knew nothing about cookery. why, there was a buck i had shot in hogley woods, a magnificent pricket, and do you know 3 * º, 77 ** a º 10 b * * * * * * the canterville ghost how she had it sent to table? however, it is no matter now, for it is all over, and i don’t think it was very nice of her brothers to starve me to death, though i did kill her.” “starve you to death? oh, mr. ghost — i mean sir simon, are you hungry? i have a sandwich in my case. would you like it?” “no, thank you, i never eat anything now; but it is very kind of you, all the same, and you are much nicer than the rest of your horrid, rude, vulgar, dishonest family.” “stop!” cried virginia, stamping her foot, “it is you who are rude, and horrid, and vulgar, and as for dishonesty, you know you stole the 4 the canterville ghost paints out of my box to try and furbish up that ridiculous blood-stain in the library. first you took all my reds, including the vermilion, and i couldn't do any more sunsets, then you took the emerald-green and the chrome-yellow, and finally i had nothing left but indigo and chinese white, and could only do moonlight scenes, which are always depressing to look at, and not at all easy to paint. i never told on you, though i was very much annoyed, and it was most ridiculous, the whole thing; for who ever heard of emerald-green blood?” “well, really,” said the ghost, rather meekly, “what was i to do? 79 the canterville ghost _ it is a very difficult thing to get real blood nowadays, and, as your brother began it all with his paragon detergent, i certainly saw no reason why i should not have your paints. as for colour, that is always a matter of taste: the cantervilles have blue blood, for instance, the very bluest in england; but i know you americans don't care for things of this kind.” “you know nothing about it, and the best thing you can do is to emigrate and improve your mind. my father will be only too happy to give you a free passage, and though there is a heavy duty on spirits of every kind, there will be no difficulty about 80 the canterville ghost the custom house, as the officers are all democrats. once in new york, you are sure to be a great success. i know lots of people there who would give a hundred thousand dollars to have a grandfather, and much more than that to have a family ghost.” “i don’t think i should like america.” “i suppose because we have no ruins and no curiosities,” said virginia, satirically. “no ruins! no curiosities!” answered the ghost; “you have your navy and your manners.” “good evening; i will go and 81 the canterville ghost ask papa to get the twins an extra week's holiday.” “please don’t go, miss virginia,” he cried; “i am so lonely and so unhappy, and i really don’t know what to do. i want to go to sleep and i cannot.” “that's quite absurd! you have merely to go to bed and blow out the candle. it is very difficult sometimes to keep awake, especially at church, but there is no difficulty at all about sleeping. why, even babies know how to do that, and they are not very clever.” “i have not slept for three hundred years,” he said sadly, and virginia's beautiful blue eyes opened in 82 *** poor, poor ghost, she murmured ; have 2 x you no place where you can sleep ’ the canterville ghost ºwonder; “for three hundred years i have not slept, and i am so tired.” virginia grew quite grave, and her little lips trembled like rose-leaves. she came towards him, and kneeling down at his side, looked up into his old withered face. razºſº “poor, poor ghost,” she murmured; “have you no place where you can sleep?” “far away beyond the pinewoods,” he answered, in a low, dreamy voice, “there is a little garden. there the grass grows long and deep, there are the great white stars of the hemlock flower, there the nightingale sings all night long. all night long he sings, and the cold 85 the canterville ghost crystal moon looks down, and the yew-tree spreads out its giant arms over the sleepers.” virginia's eyes grew dim with tears, and she hid her face in her hands. “you mean the garden of death,” she whispered. “yes, death. death must be so beautiful. to lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one’s head, and listen to silence. to have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. to forget time, to forget life, to be at peace. you can help me. you can open for me the portals of death's house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger than death is.” 86 the canterville ghost virginia trembled, a cold shudder fa º ran through her, and for a few moments there was silence. she felt as if she was in a terrible dream. then the ghost spoke again, and his voice sounded like the sighing of the wind. “have you ever read the old prophecy on the library window?” “oh, often,” cried the little girl, looking up; “i know it quite well. it is painted in curious black letters, and is difficult to read. there are only six lines: “‘when a golden girl can win prayer from out the lips of sin, when the barren almond bears, and a little child gives away its tears, 87 the canterville ghost then shall all the house be still and peace come to canterville.” but i don't know what they mean.” “they mean.” he said, sadly, “that you must weep with me for my sins, because i have no tears, and pray with me for my soul, because i have no faith, and then, if you have always been sweet, and good, and gentle, the angel of death will have mercy on me. you will see fearful shapes in darkness, and wicked voices will whisper in your ear, but they will not harm you, for against the purity of a little child the powers of hell cannot prevail.” virginia made no answer, and the ghost wrung his hands in wild despair 88 the canterville ghost as he looked down at her bowed golden head. suddenly she stood up, very pale, and with a strange light in her eyes. “i am not afraid,” she said firmly, “and i will ask the angel to have mercy on you.” he rose from his seat with a faint cry of joy, and taking her hand bent over it with old-fashioned grace and kissed it. his fingers were as cold as ice, and his lips burned like fire, but virginia did not falter, as he led ºf, º her across the dusky room. on the faded green tapestry were broidered little huntsmen. they blew their tasselled horns and with their tiny hands waved to her to go back. “go back! & © little virginia,” they cried, go 89 the canterville ghost bsck!” but the ghost clutched her hand more tightly, and she shut her eyes against them. horrible animals with lusrd tails and goggle eyes blinked at her from the carven chimney piece, and murmured, “beware! little virginia, beware! we may never see you again,” but the ghost glided on more swiftly, and virginia did not listen. when they reached the end of the room he stopped, and muttered some words she could not understand. she opened her eyes, and saw the wall slowly fading away like a mist, and a great black cavern in front of her. a bitter cold wind swept round them, and she felt something pulling at her dres: “quick, quick,” the canterville ghost cried the ghost, “ or it will be too late,” and in a moment the wainscoting had closed behind them, and the tapestry chamber was empty. 91 the canterville ghost vi bout ten minutes later, the bell rang for tea, and, as virginia did not come down, mrs. otis sent up one of the footmen to tell her. after a little time he returned and said that he could not find miss virginia anywhere. as she was in the habit of going out to the garden every evening to get flowers for the dinner-table, mrs. otis was not at all alarmed at first, but when six o'clock struck, and virginia did not appear, she became really agitated, and sent 92 the canterville ghost the boys out to look for her, while she herself and mr. otis searched every room in the house. at half-past six the boys came back and said that they could find no trace of their sister anywhere. they were all now in the greatest state of excitement, and did not know what to do, when mr. otis suddenly remembered that, some few days before, he had given a band of gipsies permission to camp in the park. he accordingly at once set off for blackfell hollow, where he knew they were, accompanied by his eldest son and two of the farm-servants. the little duke of cheshire, who was perfectly frantic with anxiety, begged hard to be allowed to go 93 the canterville ghost wda too, but mr. otis would not allow him, as he was afraid there might be a scuffle. on arriving at the spot, however, he found that the gipsies had gone, and it was evident that their departure had been rather sudden, as the fire was still burning, and some plates were lying on the grass. having sent off washington and the two men to scour the district, he ran home, and despatched telegrams to all the police inspectors in the county, telling them to look out for a little girl who had been kidnapped by tramps or gipsies. he then ordered his horse to be brought round, and, after insisting on his wife and the three boys sitting down to dinner, 94 the canterville ghost rode off down the ascot road with a groom. he had hardly, however, gone a couple of miles, when he heard somebody galloping after him, and, looking round, saw the little duke coming up on his pony, with his face very flushed, and no hat. “i’m awfully sorry, mr. otis,” gasped out the boy, “but i can’t eat any dinner 95 the canterville ghost as long as virginia is lost. please, don't be angry with me; if you had let us be engaged last year, there would never have been all this trouble. you won’t send me back, will you? i can’t go! i won't go!” the minister could not help smiling at the handsome young scapegrace, and was a good deal touched at his devotion to virginia, so leaning down from his horse, he patted him kindly on the shoulders, and said, “well, cecil, if you won't go back, i suppose you must come with me, but i must get you a hat at ascot.” “oh, bother my hat! i want virginia!” cried the little duke, laughing, and they galloped on to the rail96 the canterville ghost * way station. there mr. otis inquired of the station-master if any one answering to the description of virginia had been seen on the platform, but could get no news of her. the station-master, however, wired up and down the line, and assured him that a strict watch would be kept for her, and, after having bought a hat for the little duke from a linendraper, who was just putting up his shutters, mr. otis rode off to bexley, a village about four miles away, which he was told was a well-known haunt of the gipsies, as there was a large common next to it. here they roused up the rural policeman, but could get no information from him, 97 the canterville ghost disappearance, as they were very grateful to mr. otis for having allowed them to camp in his park, and four of their number had stayed behind to help in the search. the carppond had been dragged, and the whole chase thoroughly gone over, but without any result. it was evident that, for that night at any rate, virginia was lost to them; and it was in a state of the deepest depression that mr. otis and the boys walked up to the house, the groom following behind with the two horses and the pony. in the hall they found a group of frightened servants, and lying on a sofa in the library was poor mrs. otis, almost out of her * ... ºvºv s —º 99 the canterville ghost mind with terror and anxiety, and having her forehead bathed with eau de cologne by the old housekeeper. mr. otis at once insisted on her having something to eat, and ordered up supper for the whole party. it was a melancholy meal, as hardly any one spoke, and even the twins were awestruck and subdued, as they were very fond of their sister. when they had finished, mr. otis, in spite of the entreaties of the little duke, ordered them all to bed, saying that nothing more could be done that night, and that he would telegraph in the morning to scotland yard for some detectives to be sent down immediately. just as they were passing out of the dining-room, 100 the canterville ghost midnight began to boom from the clock tower, and when the last stroke sounded they heard a crash and a sudden shrill cry; a dreadful peal of thunder shook the house, a strain of unearthly music floated through the air, a panel at the top of the staircase flew back with a loud noise, and out on the landing, looking % very pale and white, / with a little casket in her hand, stepped virginia. in a moment they had all rushed up to her. mrs. otis clasped her passionately in 101 the canterville ghost her arms, the duke smothered her with violent kisses, and the twins executed a wild war-dance round the group. “good heavens! child, where have you been?” said mr. otis, rather angrily, thinking that she had been playing some foolish trick on them. “cecil and i have been riding all over the country looking for you, and your mother has been frightened to death. you must never play these practical jokes any more.” “except on the ghost! except on the ghost!” shrieked the twins, as they capered about. “my own darling, thank god you are found; you must never leave my 102 the canterville ghost side again,” murmured mrs. otis, as she kissed the trembling child, and smoothed the tangled gold of her hair. “papa,” said virginia, quietly, “i have been with the ghost. he is dead, and you must come and see him. he had been very wicked, but he was really sorry for all that he had done, and he gave me this box of beautiful jewels before he died.” the whole family gazed at her in mute amazement, but she was quite grave and serious; and, turning round, she led them through the opening in the wainscoting down a narrow secret corridor, washington following with a lighted candle, which 103 the canterville ghost he had caught up from the table. finally, they came to a great oak door, studded with rusty nails. when virginia touched it, it swung back on its heavy hinges, and they found themselves in a little low room, with a vaulted ceiling, and one tiny grated window. imbedded in the wall was a huge iron ring, and chained to it was a gaunt skeleton, that was stretched out at full length on the stone floor, and seemed to be trying to grasp with its long fleshless fingers an old-fashioned trencher and ewer, that were placed just out of its reach. the jug had evidently been once filled with water, as it was covered inside with green mould. there was nothing on 104 the canterville ghost the trencher but a pile of dust. virginia knelt down beside the skeleton, and, folding her little hands together, began to pray silently, while the rest of the party looked on in wonder at the terrible tragedy whose secret was now disclosed to them. “hallo!” suddenly exclaimed one of the twins, who had been looking out of the window to try and discover in what wing of the house the room was situated. “hallo! the old with105 the canterville ghost ered almond-tree has blossomed. i can see the flowers quite plainly in the moonlight.” “god has forgiven him,” said virginia, gravely, as she rose to her feet, and a beautiful light seemed to illumine her face. “what an angel you are!” cried the young duke, and he put his arm round her neck, and kissed her. 106 • / n w/w „ ! !！ ！! !！! i, 11 ） » · , , ， ， ， ,// ± 1.1 + '//'i h 1,1/^ i v aew » +1+...) v „...) ！! !！ /, // nºw » º « w » h + ſ + 1, 4， 8， 18 º h-1 / 8 ） » the canterville ghost ered almond-tree has blossomed. i can see the flowers quite plainly in the moonlight.” “god has forgiven him,” said virginia, gravely, as she rose to her feet, and a beautiful light seemed to illumine her face. “what an angel you are!” cried the young duke, and he put his arm round her neck, and kissed her. 106 ** by the side of the hearse and the coaches walked the servants with lighted torches '' the canterville ghost vii our days after these curious incidents, a funeral started from canterville chase at about eleven o'clock at night. the hearse was drawn by eight black horses, each of which carried on its head a great tuft of nodding ostrich-plumes, and the leaden coffin was covered by a rich purple pall, on which was embroidered in gold the canterville coat-of-arms. by the side of the hearse and the coaches walked the servants with lighted torches, and the whole pro109 the canterville ghost cession was wonderfully impressive. lord canterville was the chief mourner, having come up specially from wales to attend the funeral, and sat in the first carriage along with little virginia. then came the united states minister and his wife, then washington and the three boys, and in the last carriage was mrs. umney. it was generally felt that, as she had been frightened by the ghost for more than fifty years of her life, she had a right to see the last of him. a deep grave had been dug in the corner of the churchyard, just under the old yewtree, and the service was read in the most impressive manner by the rev. augustus dampier. when the cere110 “the moon came out from hl. hind a clou () '' the canterville ghost mony was over, the servants, according to an old custom observed in the canterville family, extinguished their torches, and, as the coffin was being lowered into the grave, virginia stepped forward, and laid on it a large cross made of white and pink almond-blossoms. as she did so, the moon came out from behind a cloud, and flooded with its silent silver the little churchyard, and from a distant copse a nightingale began to sing. she thought of the ghost's description of the garden of death, her eyes became dim with tears, and she hardly spoke a word during the drive home. the next morning, before lord canterville went up to town, mr. otis 113 the canterville ghost had an interview with him on the subject of the jewels the ghost had given to virginia. they were perfectly magnificent, especially a certain ruby necklace with old venetian setting, which was really a superb specimen of sixteenth-century work, and their value was so great that mr. otis felt considerable scruples about allowing his daughter to accept them. “my lord,” he said, “i know that in this country mortmain is held to apply to trinkets as well as to land, and it is quite clear to me that these jewels are, or should be, heirlooms in your family. i must beg you, accordingly, to take them to london with you, and to regard them simply 114 the canterville ghost as a portion of your property which has been restored to you under certain strange conditions. as for my daughter, she is merely a child, and has as yet, i am glad to say, but little interest in such appurtenances of idle luxury. az º i am also informed by mrs. otis, who, i may say, is no mean authority upon art, — having had the privilege of spending several winters in boston when she was a girl, that these gems are of great monetary worth, and if offered for sale would fetch a tall price. under these circumstances, lord canterville, i feel sure that you will recognize how impossible it would be for me to allow them to remain in the possession of any member of my 115 the canterville ghost family; and, indeed, all such vain gauds and toys, however suitable or necessary to the dignity of the british aristocracy, would be completely out of place among those who have been brought up on the severe, and i believe immortal, principles of republican simplicity. perhaps i should mention that virginia is very anxious that you should allow her to retain the box, as a memento of your unfortunate but misguided ancestor. as it is extremely old, and consequently a good deal out of repair, you may perhaps think fit to comply with her request. for my own part, i confess i am a good deal surprised to find a child of mine expressing sympathy with medi116 the canterville ghost aevalism in any form, and can only account for it by the fact that virginia was born in one of your london suburbs shortly after mrs. otis had returned from a trip to athens.” lord canterville listened very gravely to the worthy minister's speech, pulling his grey moustache now and then to hide an involuntary smile, and when mr. otis had ended, he shook him cordially by the hand, and said: “my dear sir, your charming little daughter rendered my unlucky ancestor, sir simon, a very important service, and i and my family are much indebted to her for her marvellous courage and pluck. the jewels are clearly hers, and, egad, i be117 the canterville ghost lieve that if i were heartless enough to take them from her, the wicked old fellow would be out of his grave in a fortnight, leading me the devil of a life. as for their being heirlooms, nothing is an heirloom that is not so mentioned in a will or legal document, and the existence of these jewels has been quite unknown. i assure you i have no more claim on them than your butler, and when miss virginia grows up, i dare say she will be pleased to have pretty things to wear. besides, you forget, mr. otis, that you took the furniture and the ghost at a valuation, and anything that belonged to the ghost passed at once into your possession, as, whatever activity sir 118 the canterville ghost simon may have shown in the corridor at night, in point of law he was really dead, and you acquired his property by purchase.” mr. otis was a good deal distressed at lord canterville's refusal, and begged him to reconsider his, decision, but the good-natured peer was quite firm, and finally induced the minister to allow his daughter to retain the present the ghost had given her, and when, in the spring of 1890, the young duchess of cheshire was presented at the queen's first drawing-room on the occasion of her marriage, her jewels were the universal theme of admiration. for virginia received the coronet, which is the reward of all good 119 the canterville ghost little american girls, and was married to her boy-lover as soon as he came of age. they were both so charming, and they loved each other so much, that every one was delighted at the match, except the old marchioness of dumbleton, who had tried to catch the duke for one of her seven unmarried daughters, and had given no less than three expensive dinner-parties for that purpose, and, strange to say, mr. otis himself. mr. otis was extremely fond of the young duke personally, but, theoretically, he objected to titles, and, to use his own words, “was not without apprehension lest, amid the enervating influences of a pleasureloving aristocracy, the true principles 120 the canterville ghost of republican simplicity should be forgotten.” his objections, however, were completely overruled, and i believe that when he walked up the aisle of st. george's, hanover square, with his daughter leaning on his arm, there was not a prouder man in the whole length and breadth of england. the duke and duchess, after the honeymoon was over, went down to canterville chase, and on the day after their arrival they walked over in the afternoon to the lonely churchyard by the pine-woods. there had been a great deal of difficulty at first about the inscription on sir simon's tombstone, but finally it had been decided to engrave on it simply the 121 the canterville ghost initials of the old gentleman's name, and the verse from the library window. the duchess had brought with her some lovely roses, which she strewed upon the grave, and after they had stood by it for some time they strolled into the ruined chancel of the old abbey. there the duchess sat down on a fallen pillar, while her husband lay at her feet smoking a cigarette and looking up at her beautiful eyes. suddenly he threw his cigarette away, took hold of her hand, and said to her, “virginia, a wife should have no secrets from her husband.” “dear cecil! i have no secrets from you.” “yes, you have,” he answered, smil122 the canterville ghost ing, “you have never told me what happened to you when you were locked up with the ghost.” “i have never told any one, cecil,” said virginia, gravely. “i know that, but you might tell me.” “please don’t ask me, cecil, i cannot tell you. poor sir simon! i owe him a great deal. yes, don't laugh, cecil, i really do. he made me see what life is, and what death signifies, and why love is stronger than both.” the duke rose and kissed his wife lovingly. “you can have your secret as long as i have your heart,” he murmured. 123 the canterville ghost “you have always had that, cecil.” “and you will tell our children some day, won't you?” virginia blushed. the end. t h e works of osc a r w i l de the plays of oscar wilde. in three volumes, containing, “lady windermere's fan,” “a woman of no importance,” “an ideal husband,” “the importance of being earnest,” “salomé,” “duchess of padua,” and “vera; or the nihilists.” cloth, gilt top, 3 vols., boxed, $3.75 net. vols. i and ii, $2.5o net., vol. iii, sold separately, $1.5o net. salomé. oscar wilde's remarkable tragedy. a special edition with the original illustrations by aubrey beardsley, printed on japan vellum. text printed on heavy deckel-edge paper; bound in black cloth with beardsley design in gold, gilt top. $1.oo net. epigrams and aphorisms, by oscar wilde. a complete collection, embracing the entire range of wilde's prose work, and preserving in concise form the essence of the author's best efforts. bound in half leather, and printed on heavy deckel-edge paper. $1.5o. the renaissance of english art, by oscar wilde. an essay on art and aeestheticism delivered as a lecture during his american tour. cloth, $o.5o net. the ballad of reading gaol, by oscar wilde. a poem, in which the author rises to a height of poetic expression that has not been surpassed in english during the past fifty years. cloth, $o.5o net. the canterville ghost, by oscar wilde. an amusing chronicle of the tribulations of the ghost of canterville chase, when his ancestral halls became the home of the american minister to the court of st. james. rich in humor and satire. cloth, gilt top, $1.o.o. john w. luce and company boston and london ----~the borrower will be charged an overdue fee if this book is not returned to the library on or before the last datestamped below. non-receipt of overdue notices does not exempt the borrower from overdue fees. harvard college widener library cambridge, ma 02138 (617) 495-2413 109 $/*#*. %z4r wtykcu&ylf , s g. p. putnam & son, 661 broadway. 1 \)t <^j)00t. by wxm. d. o'connor. with two illustrations by thos. nast. new york : g. p. putnam & son, 661 broadway. london i sampson low & co. 1867. entered according to act of congress, in the year 1867, by g. p. putnam & son. £n the clerk's office of the district court of the united states for the southern district of new york. the new york printing company, 81, 83, and 85 centre street \ new york. a christmas story. t the west end of boston is a quarter of some fifty streets, more or less, common ly known as beacon hill. it is a rich and respectable quarter, sacred to the abodes of our first citizens. the very houses have become sen tient of its prevailing character of riches and respectability ; and, when the twilight deep ens on the place, or at high noon, if your vision is gifted, you may see them as long rows of our first giants, with very corpulent or very broad fronts, with solid-set feet of sidewalk ending in square-toed curbstone, with an air about them as if they had thrust their hard hands into their wealthy pockets forever, with a character of arctic reserve, and portly dignity, and a well-dressed, full 6 the ghost. fed, self-satisfied, opulent, stony, repellant aspect to each, which says plainly : " i be long to a rich family, of the very highest respectability." history, having much to say of beacon hill generally, has, on the present occasion, something to say particularly of a certain street which bends over the eminence, sloping steeply down to its base. it is an old street — quaint, quiet, and somewhat picturesque. it was young once, though — having been born before the revolution, and was then given to the city by its father, mr. middlecott, who died without heirs, and did this much for posterity. posterity has not been grateful to mr. middlecott. the street bore his name till he was dust, and then got the more aristocratic epithet of bowdoin. posterity has paid him by effacing what would have been his noblest epitaph. we may expect, after this, to see faneuil hall robbed of its name, and called smith hall! republics are proverbially ungrateful. what safer claim to public remembrance has the old huguenot, peter faneuil, than the old englishman, mr. middlecott ? ghosts, it is said, have risen from the grave to reveal wrongs done them the ghost. 7 by the living ; but it needs no ghost from the grave to prove the proverb about republics. bowdoin street only differs from its kindred, in a certain shady, grave, old-fogy, fossil aspect, just touched with a pensive solemnity, as if it thought to itself, " i 'm get ting old but i 'm highly respectable ; that 's a comfort." it has, moreover, a dejected, injured air, as if it brooded solemnly on the wrong done to it by taking away its original name, and calling it bowdoin ; but as if, being a very conservative street, it was resolved to keep a cautious silence on the subject, lest the union should go to pieces. sometimes it wears a profound and mysteri ous look, as if it could tell something if it had a mind to, but thought it best not. something of the ghost of its father — it was the only child he ever had ! — walking there all the night, pausing at the corners to look up at the signs, which bear a strange name, and wringing his ghostly hands in lam entation at the wrong done his memory ! rumor told it in a whisper, many years ago. perhaps it was believed by a few of the oldest inhabitants of the city ; but the highly respectable quarter never heard of it ; and, if it had, would not have been bribed 8 the ghost. to believe it, by any sum. some one had said that some very old person had seen a phantom there. nobody knew who some one was. nobody knew who the very old person was. nobody knew who had seen it ; nor when ; nor how. the very rumor was spectral. all this was many years ago. since then it has been reported that a ghost was seen there one bitter christmas eve, two or three years back. the twilight was already in the street ; but the evening lamps were not yet lighted in the windows, and the roofs and chimney-tops were still distinct in the last clear light of the dropping day. it was light enough, however, for one to read, easily, from the opposite sidewalk, " dr. c. renton," in black letters, on the silver plate of a door, not far from the gothic portal of the swedenborgian church. near this door stood a misty figure, whose sad, spectral eyes floated on vacancy, and whose long, shadowy white hair, lifted like an airy weft in the streaming wind. that was the ghost ! it stood near the door a long time, without any other than a shuddering motion, as though it felt the searching blast, which swept furiously from the north up the the ghost. 9 declivity of the street, rattling; the shutters in its headlong passage. once or twice, when a passer-by, muffled warmly from the bitter air, hurried past, the phantom shrank closer to the wall, till he was gone. its vague, mournful face seemed to watch for some one. the twilight darkened, gradu ally ; but it did not flit away. patiently it kept its piteous look fixed in one direction — watching — watching ; and, while the howl ing wind swept frantically through the chill air, it still seemed to shudder in the piercing cold. a light suddenly kindled in an opposite window. as if touched by a gleam from the lamp, or as if by some subtle interior illumination, the spectre became faintly luminous, and a thin smile seemed to quiver over its features. at the same moment, a strong, energetic figure — dr. renton, him self — came in sight, striding down the slope of the pavement to his own door, his over coat thrown back, as if the icy air were a tropical warmth to him, his hat set on the back of his head, and the loose ends of a 'kerchief about his throat, streaming in the nor'wester. the wind set up a howl the moment he came in sight, and swept 10 the ghost. upon him; and a curious agitation began on the part of the phantom. it glided rapidly to and fro, and moved in circles, and then, with the same swift, silent mo tion, sailed toward him, as if blown thither by the gale. its long, thin arms, with something like a pale flame spiring from the tips of the slender fingers, were stretched out, as in greeting, while the wan smile played over its face ; and when he rushed by, unheedingly, it made a futile effort to grasp the swinging arms with which he ap peared to buffet back the buffeting gale. then it glided on by his side, looking earnestly into his countenance, and moving its pallid lips with agonized rapidity, as if it said: u look at me — speak to me — speak to me — see me ! " but he kept his course with unconscious eyes, and a vexed frown on his bold, white forehead, betoken ing an irritated mind. the light that had shone in the figure of the phantom, dark ened slowly, till the form was only a pale shadow. the wind had suddenly lulled, and no longer lifted its white hair. it still glided on with him, its head drooping on its breast, and its long arms hanging by its side ; but when he reached the door, it sud the ghost. 11 denly sprang before him, gazing fixedly into his eyes, while a convulsive motion flashed over its grief-worn features, as if it had shrieked out a word. he had his foot on the step at the moment. with a start, he put his gloved hand to his forehead, while the vexed look went out quickly on his face. the ghost watched him breath lessly. but the irritated expression came back to his countenance more resolutely than before, and he began to fumble in his pocket for a latch-key, muttering petulantly, " what the devil is the matter with me now ! " it seemed to him that a voice had cried, clearly, yet as from afar, " charles renton ! " — his own name. he had heard it in his startled mind ; but, then, he knew he was in a highlv wrought state of nervous excitement, and his medical science, with that knowledge for a basis, could have reared a formidable fortress of explanation against any phenomenon, were it even more wonderful than this. he entered the house; kicked the door to ; pulled off his overcoat ; wrenched off his outer 'kerchief; slammed them on a branch of the clothes-tree ; banged his hat on top of them ; wheeled about ; pushed in 12 the ghost. the door of his library ; strode in, and, leav ing the door ajar, threw himself into an easy chair, and sat there in the fire-reddened dusk, with his white brows knit, and his arms tightly locked on his breast. the ghost had followed him, sadly, and now stood motionless in a corner of the room, its spectral hands crossed on its bosom, and its white locks drooping down. it was evident dr. renton was in a bad humor. the very library caught con tagion from him, and became grouty and sombre. the furniture was grim, and sul len, and sulky; it made ugly shadows on the carpet and on the wall, in allopathic quantity ; it took the red gleams from the fire on its polished surfaces, in homoeopathic globules, and got no good from them. the fire itself peered out sulkily from the black bars of the grate, and seemed resolved not to burn the fresh deposit of black coals at the top, but to take this as a good time to remember that those coals had been bought in the summer at five dollars a ton — under price, mind you — when poor people, who cannot buy at advantage, but must get their firing in the winter, would then have given nine or ten dollars for them. and so (glowered the ghost. 13 the fire), i am determined to think of that outrage, and not to light them, but to go out myself, directly ! and the fire got into such a spasm of glowing indignation over the injury, that it lit a whole tier of black coals with a series of little explosions, be fore it could cool down, and sent a crimson gleam over the moody figure of its owner in the easy chair, and over the solemn furni ture, and into the shadowy corner filled by the ghost. the spectre did not move when dr. ren ton arose and lit the chandelier. it stood there, still and gray, in the flood of mellow light. the curtains were drawn, and the twilight without had deepened into darkness. the fire was now burning in despite of itself, fanned by the wintry gusts, which found their way down the chimney. dr. ren ton stood with his back to it, his hands behind him, his bold white forehead shaded by a careless lock of black hair, and knit sternly ; and the same frown in his handsome, open, searching dark eyes. tall and strong, with an erect port, and broad, firm shoul ders, high, resolute features, a command ing figure garbed in aristocratic black, and not yet verging into the proportions of 14: the ghost. obesity — take him for all in all, a very fine and favorable specimen of the solid men of boston. and seen in contrast (oh ! could he but have known it !) with the attenuated figure of the poor, dim ghost ! hark ! a very light foot on the stairs — a rich rustle of silks. everything still again — dr. benton looking fixedly, with great sternness, at the half-open door, from whence a faint, delicious perfume floats into the library. somebody there, for certain. somebody peeping in with very bright, arch eyes. dr. benton knew it, and pre pared to maintain his ill-humor against the invader. his face became triply armed with severity for the encounter. that's netty, i know, he thought. his daughter. so it was. in she bounded. bright little netty! gay little netty! a dear and sweet little creature, to be sure, with a deli cate and pleasant beauty of face and figure, it needed no costly silks to grace or heighten. there she stood. not a word from her merry lips, but a smile which stole over all the solitary grimness of the library, and made everything better, and brighter, and fairer, in a minute. it floated down into the cavernous humor of dr. benton, and the ghost. 15 the gloom began to lighten directly — though he would not own it, nor relax a single feature. but the wan ghost in the corner lifted its head to look at her, and slowly brightened as to something worthy a spirit's love, and a dim phantom's smiles. now then, dr. renton ! the lines are drawn, and the foe is coming. be martial, sir, as when you stand in the ranks of the cadets on training-days! steady, and stand the charge ! so he did. he kept an inflexible front as she glided toward him, softly, slowly, with her bright eyes smiling into his, and doing dreadful execution. then she put her white arms around his neck, laid her dear, fair head on his breast, and peered up archly into his stern visage. spite of himself, he could not keep the fixed lines on his face from breaking con fusedly into a faint smile. somehow or other, his hands came from behind him, and rested on her head. there ! that's all. dr. eenton surrendered at discretion ! one of the solid men of boston was taken after a desperate struggle — internal, of course — for he kissed her, and said, "dear little netty ! " and so she was. the phantom watched her with a smile, 16 the ghost. and wavered and brightened as if about to glide to her; but it grew still, and re mained. " pa in the sulks to-night ? " she asked, in the most winning, playful, silvery voice. " pa 's a fool," he answered in his deep chesttones, with a vexed good humor ; " and you know it." "what's the matter with pa? what makes him be a great bear? papa-sy, dear," she continued, stroking his face with her little hands, and patting him, very much as beauty might have patted the beast after she fell in love with him — or, as if he were a great baby. in fact, he began to look then as if he were. " matter ? oh ! everything 's the matter, little netty. the world goes round too fast. my boots pinch. somebody stole my umbrella last year. and i've got a head ache." he concluded this fanciful abstract of his grievances by putting his arms around her, and kissing her again. then he sat down in the easy-chair, and took her fondly on his knee. " pa 's got a headache ! it is t-o-o bad, so it is," she continued in the same sooth ing, winning way, caressing his bold, white the ghost. 17 brow with her tiny hands. " it 's a horrid shame, so it is ! p-o-o-r pa. where does it ache, papa-sy, dear ? in the forehead ? cerebrum or cerebellum, papa-sy % occiput or sinciput, deary ? " "bah! you little quiz," he replied, laughing and pinching her cheek, "none of your nonsense! and what are you dressed up in this way for, to-night ? silks, and laces, and essences, and what not! where are you going, fairy ? " " going out with mother for the evening, dr. renton," she replied briskly ; " mrs. larrabee's party, papa-sy. christmas eve, you know. and what are you going to give me for a present, to-morrow, pa sy ? " " to-morrow will tell, little betty." " good ! and what are you going to give me, so that i can make my presents, beary ? " " ugh ! " but he growled it in fun, and had a pocket-book out from his breast pocket directly after. fives — tens — twen ties — fifties — all crisp, and nice, and new bank-notes. "will that be enough, netty?" he held up a twenty. the smiling face 2 18 the ghost. nodded assent, and the bright eyes twin kled. "lo, it won't. but that will," he con tinned, giving her a fifty. "fifty dollars, globe bank, boston!" exclaimed netty, making great eyes at him. " but we must take all we can get, pa-sy ; mustn't we ? it 's too much, though. thank you all the same, pa-sy, nevertheless." and she kissed him, and put the bill in a little bit of a portemonnaie with a gay laugh. " well done, i declare ! " he said, smil ingly. " but you 're going to the party ? " " pretty soon, pa." he made no answer ; but sat smiling at her. the phantom watched them, silently. "what made pa so cross and grim, to night ? tell netty— do," she pleaded. " oh ! because ; — everything went wrong with me, to-day. there." and he looked as sulky, at that moment, as he ever did in his life. " no, no, pa-sy ; that won't do. i want the particulars," continued netty, shaking her head, smilingly. " particulars ! well, then, miss nathalie renton," he began, with mock gravity, " your professional father is losing some of the ghost. 19 his oldest patients. everybody is in ruin ous good health ; and the grass is growing in the graveyards." " in the winter-time, papa ? — smart grass ! " " not that i want practice," he went on, getting into soliloquy ; " or patients, either. a rich man who took to the profession sim ply for the love of it, can't complain on that score. but to have an interloping she-doctor take a family i've attended ten years, out of my hands, and to hear the hodge-podge gabble about physiological laws, and wo man's rights, and no taxation without representation, they learn from her — well, it's too bad!" "is that all, pa-sy? seems to me, i'd like to vote, too," was netty's piquant rejoinder. " hoh ! i'll warrant," growled her father. " hope you '11 vote the whig ticket, netty, when you get your rights." " will the union be dissolved, then, pa sy — when the whigs are beaten ? " " bah ! you little plague," he growled, with a laugh. "but, then, you women don't know anything about politics. so, there. as i was saying, everything went wrong with me to-day. i 've been speculat 20 the ghost. ing in railroad stock, and singed my fingers. then, old tom hollis outbid me, to-day, at leonard's on a rare medical work i had set my eyes upon having. confound him ! then, again, two of my houses are tenantless, and there are folks in two others that won't pay their rent, and i can't get them out. out they '11 go, though, or i '11 know why. and, to crown all — um-m. and i wish the devil had him! as he will." " had who, beary-papa ? " "him. i'll tell you. the street floor of one of my houses in hanover street lets for an oyster-room. they keep a bar there, and sell liquor. last night they had a grand row — a drunken fight, and one man was stabbed, it 's thought fatally." " o, father ! " netty's bright eyes dilated with horror. " yes. i hope he won't die. at any rate, there 's likely to be a stir about the matter, and my name will be called into question, then, as i'm the landlord. and folks will make a handle of it, and there '11 be the deuce to pay, generally." he got back the stern, vexed frown, to his face, with the anticipation, and beat the the ghost. 21 carpet with his foot. the ghost still watched from the angle of the room, and seemed to darken, while its features looked troubled. " but, father," said netty, a little tremu lously, " i would n't let my houses to such people. it 's not right ; is it ? why, it 's horrid to think of men getting drunk, and killing each other ! " dr. renton rubbed his hair into dis order, with vexation, and then subsided into solemnity. " i know it 's not exactly right, netty ; but i can't help it. as i said before, i wish the devil had that bar-keeper. i ought to have ordered him out long ago, and then this wouldn't have happened. i 've increased his rent twice, hoping to get rid of him so ; but he pays without a mur mur ; and what am i to do ? tou see, he was an occupant when the building came into my hands, and i let him stay. he pays me a good, round rent; and, apart from his cursed traffic, he 's a good tenant. what can i do ? it 's a good thing for him, and it 's a good thing for me, pecuniarily. confound him. here's a nice rumpus brewing ! " 22 the ghost. "dear pa, i'm afraid it's not a good thing for you," said netty, caressing him, and smoothing his tumbled hair. " nor for him either. i would n't mind the rent he pays you. i'd order him out. it's bad money. there 's blood on it." she had grown pale, and her voice quivered. the phantom glided over to them, and laid its spectral hand upon her forehead. the shadowy eyes looked from under the misty hair into the doctor's face, and the pale lips moved as if speaking the words heard only in the silence of his heart — " hear her, hear her ! " " i must think of it," resumed dr. ren ton, coldly. " i 'm resolved, at all events, to warn him that if anything of this kind occurs again, he must quit at once. i dis like to lose a profitable tenant ; for no other business would bring me the sum his does. hang it, everybody does the best he can with his property — why should n't i ? " the ghost, standing near them, drooped its head again on its breast, and crossed its arms. netty was silent. dr. eenton con tinued, petulantly : " a precious set of people i manage to get into my premises. there 's a woman 1 the ghost. 23 hires a couple of rooms for a dwelling, overhead, in that same building, and for three months i have n't got a cent from her. i know these people's tricks. her month's notice expires to-morrow, and out she goes." " poor creature ! " sighed netty. he knit his brow, and beat the carpet with his foot, in vexation. " perhaps she can't pay you, pa," trem bled the sweet, silvery voice. "you would n't turn her out in this cold winter, when she can't pay you — would you, pa ? " " "why don't she get another house, and swindle some one else ? " he replied, testily ; " there 's plenty of rooms to let." " perhaps she can't find one, pa," answer ed netty. " humbug ! " retorted her father ; "i know better." " pa, dear, if i were you, i 'd turn out that rumseller, and let the poor woman stay a little longer ; just a little, pa." "shan't do it. hah! that would be scattering money out of both pockets. shan't do it. out she shall go ; and as for him — well, he'd better turn over a new leaf. there, let us leave the subject, dar 24 the ghost. ling. it vexes me. how did we contrive to get into this train. bah ! " he drew her closer to him, and kiss ed her forehead. she sat quietly, with her head on his shoulder, thinking very gravely. " i feel queerly to-day, little netty," he began, after a short pause. "my nerves are all high-strung with the turn matters have taken." " how is it, papa ? the headache ? " she answered. " y-e-s — n-o — not exactly ; i don't know," he said dubiously ; then, in an absent way, " it was that letter set me to think of him all day, i suppose." " why, pa, i declare," cried netty, start ing up, "if i did n't forget all about it, and i came down expressly to give it to you ! where is it ? oh ! here it is." she drew from her pocket an old letter, faded to a pale yellow, and gave it to him. the ghost started suddenly. " why, bless my soul ! it 5 s the very let ter! where did you get that, nathalie?" asked dr. renton. " i found it on the stairs after dinner, pa." " yes, i do remember taking it up with the ghost. 25 me ; i must have dropped it," he answered, musingly, gazing at the superscription. the ghost was gazing at it, too, with startled interest. " what beautiful writing it is, pa," mur mured the young girl. " who wrote it to you ? it looks yellow enough to have been written a long time since." "fifteen years ago, netty. when you were a baby. and the hand that wrote it has been cold for all that time." he spoke with a solemn sadness, as if memory lingered with the heart of fifteen years ago, on an old grave. the dim figure by his side had bowed its head, and all was still. " it is strange," he resumed, speaking vacantly and slowly, " i have not thought of him for so long a time, and to-day — especially this evening— i have felt as if he were con stantly near me. it is a singular feeling." he put his left hand to his forehead, and mused — his right clasped his daughter's shoulder. the phantom slowly raised its head, and gazed at him with a look of unutterable tenderness. " who was he, father ? " she asked with a hushed voice. 26 the ghost. " a young man — an author — a poet. he had been my dearest friend, when we were boys ; and, though i lost sight of him for years — he led an erratic life — we were friends when he died. poor, poor fellow ! well, he is at peace." the stern voice had saddened, and was almost tremulous. the spectral form was still. " how did he die, father ? " "a long story, darling," he replied gravely, " and a sad one. he was very poor and proud. he was a genius — that is, a person without an atom of practical talent. his parents died, the last, his mother, when he was near manhood. i was in college then. thrown upon the world, he picked up a scanty subsistence with his pen, for a time. i could have got him a place in the counting-house, but he would not take it ; in fact, he was n't fit for it. you can't harness pegasus to the cart, you know. besides, he despised mercantile life — without reason, of course ; but he was always notional. his love of literature was one of the rocks he foundered on. he wasn't successful ; his best compositions were too delicate — fanciful — to please the popular the ghost. 27 taste ; and then he was full of the radical and fanatical notions which infected so many people at that time in new england, and infect them now, for that matter ; and his sublimated, impracticable ideas and principles, which he kept till his dying day, and which, i confess, alienated me from him, always staved off his chances of success. consequently, he never rose above the drudgery of some employment on news papers. then he was terribly passionate, not without cause, i allow ; but it was n't wise. what i mean is this : if he saw, or if he fancied he saw, any wrong or injury done to any one, it was enough to throw him into a frenzy ; he would get black in the face and absolutely shriek out his denuncia tions of the wrongdoer. i do believe he would have visited his own brother with the most unsparing invective, if that brother had laid a harming finger on a street-beggar, or a colored man, or a poor person of any kind. i don't blame the feeling ; though with a man like him, it was very apt to be a false or mistaken one ; but, at any rate, its exhibition was n't sensible. well, as i was saying, he buffeted about in this world a long time, poorly paid, fed, and clad; 28 the ghost. taking more care of other people than he did of himself. then mental suffer ing, physical exposure, and want killed him." the stern voice had grown softer than a child's. the same look of unutterable tenderness brooded on the mournful face of the phantom by his side ; but its thin, shining hand was laid upon his head,* and its countenance had undergone a change. the form was still undefined ; but the features had become distinct. they were those of a young man, beautiful and wan, and marked with great suffering. a pause had fallen on the conversation, in which the father and daughter heard the solemn sighing of the wintry wind around ihe dwelling. the silence seemed scarcely broken by the voice of the young girl. "dear father, this was very sad. did you say he died of want ? " " of want, my child, of hunger and cold. i do n't doubt it. he had wandered about, as i gather, houseless for a couple of days and nights. it was in december, too. some one found him, on a rainy night, lying in the street, drenched and burning with fever, and had him taken to the hospital. the ghost. 29 it appears that lie had always cherished a strange affection for me, though i had grown away from him ; and in his wild ravings he constantly mentioned my name, and they sent for me. that was our first meeting after two years. i found him in the hospital — dying. heaven can witness that i felt all my old love for him return then, but he was delirious, and never recognized me. and, nathalie, his hair — it had been coal black, and he wore it very long, he would n't let them cut it either ; and as they knew no skill could save him, they let him have his way — his hair was then as white as snow ! god alone knows what that brain must have suffered to blanch hair which had been as black as the wing of a raven ! " he covered his eyes with his hand, and sat silently. the fingers of the phantom still shone dimly on his head, and its white locks drooped above him, like a weft of light. " what was his name, father ? " asked the pitying girl. " george feval. the very name sounds like fever. he died on christmas eve, fifteen years ago this night. it was on his death bed, while his mind was tossing on a sea of 30 the ghost. delirious fancies, that he wrote me this long letter — for to the last, i was uppermost in his thoughts. it is a wild, incoherent thing? of course — a strange mixture of sense and madness. but i have kept it as a memorial of him. i have not looked at it for years ; but this morning i found it among my papers, and somehow it has been in my mind all day." he slowly unfolded the faded sheets, and sadly gazed at the writing. his daughter had risen from her half-recumbent posture, and now bent her graceful head over the leaves. the phantom covered its face with its hands. "what a beautiful manuscript it is, father ! " she exclaimed. " the writing is faultless." "it is, indeed," he replied. "would he had written his life as fairly ! " " read it, father," said nathalie. " no — but i'll read you a detached passage here and there," he answered, after a pause. " the rest you may read yourself some time, if you wish. it is painful to me. here 's the beginning : " ' my dear charles renton : — adieu, and adieu. it is christmas eve, and i am the ghost. 31 going home* i am soon to exhale from my flesh, like the spirit of a broken flower. exultemus forever ! ' w 7c *7v "tv tc "it is very wild. his mind was in a fever-craze. here is a passage that seems to refer to his own experience of life : " i your friendship was dear to me. i give you true love. stocks and returns. you are rich, but i did not wish to be your bounty's pauper. could ibeg ? i had my work to do for the world, but oh ! the world has no place for souls that can only love and suffer. how many miles to babylon ? threescore and ten. not so far — not near so far ! ask starvelings — they know. * x x " * * /wanted to do the vjorld good and the world has killed me, charles.' " "it frightens me," said nathalie, as he paused. "we will read no more," he replied sombrely. " it belongs to the psychology of madness. to me, who knew him, there are gleams of sense in it, and passages where the delirium of the language is only a transparent veil on the meaning. all the remainder is devoted to what he thought 32 the ghost. important advice to me. but it 's all wild and vague. poor — poor george ! " the phantom still hid its face in its hands, as the doctor slowly turned over the pages of the letter. nathalie, bending over the leaves, laid her finger on the last, and asked — "what are those closing sentences, father ? eead them." " oh ! that is what he called his ' last counsel ' to me. it 's as wild as the rest — tinctured with the prevailing ideas of his career. first he says, q farewell— farewell ; ' then he bids me take his 'counsel into memory on christmas day / ' then, after enumerating all the wretched classes he can think of in the country, he says. ' these are your sisters and your brothers — love them all? here he says, ' friend, strong in wealth for so much good, take my last counsel. in the name of the saviour, i charge you he true and tender to mankind? he goes on to bid me ' live and labor for the fallen, the neglected, the suffering, and the poor ; ' and finally ends by advising me to help upset any, or all, institutions, laws, and so forth, that bear hardly on the fag-ends of society ; and tells me that what he calls 'a service to humanity 5 is worth the ghost. 33 more to the doer than a service to anything else, or than anything we can gain from the world. ah, well ! poor george." "but isn't all that true, father?" said netty ; " it seems so." "h'm," he murmured through his closed lips. then, with a vague smile, folding up the letter, meanwhile, he said, " wild words, netty, wild words. i've no objection to charity, judiciously given ; but poor george's notions are not mine. every man for him self, is a good general rule. every man for humanity, as george has it, and in his ac ceptation of the principle, would send us all to the alms-house pretty soon. the greatest good of the greatest number — that 's my rule of action. there are plenty of good insti tutions for the distressed, and i 'm willing to -help support 'em, and do. but as for making a martyr of one's self, or tilting against the necessary evils of society, or turn ing philanthropist at large, or any quixot ism of that sort, i do n't believe in it. we did n't make the world, and we can't mend it. poor george. well — he 's at rest. the world was n't the place for him." they grew silent. the spectre glided slowly to the wall, and stood as if it were 3 34 tee ghost. thinking what, with dr. benton's rale of action, was to become of the greatest good of the smallest number. nathalie sat on her father's knee, thinking only of george feval, and of his having been starved and grieved to death. " father," said nathalie, softly, "i felt, while you were reading the letter, as if he were near us. did n't you ? the room was so light and still, and the wind sighed so." " netty, dear, i 've felt that all day, i be lieve," he replied. " hark ! there is the door bell. off goes the spirit-world, and here comes the actual. confound it ! some one to see me, i'll warrant, and i'm not in the mood." he got into a fret at once. netty was not the netty of an hour ago, or she would have coaxed him out of it. but she did not notice it now in her abstraction. she had risen at the tinkle of the bell, and seated herself in a chair. presently a nose, with a great pimple on the end of it, appeared at the edge of the door, and a weak, piping voice said, reckless of the proper tense, " there was a woman wanted to see you, sir." "who is it, james? — no matter, show her in." he got up with the vexed scowl on his the ghost. 35 face, and walked the room. in a minute the library door opened again, and a pale, thin, rigid, frozen-looking little woman, scantily clad, the weather being considered, entered, and dropped a curt, awkward bow to dr. kenton. " oh ! mrs. miller. good evening, ma'am. sit down," he said, with a cold, constrained civility. the little woman faintly said, " good evening, dr. renton," and sat down stiffly, with her hands crossed before her, in the chair nearest the wall. this was the obdu rate tenant, who had paid no rent for three months, and had a notice to quit, expiring to-morrow. " cold evening, ma'am," remarked dr. renton, in his hard way. " yes, sir, it is," was the cowed, awkward answer. " won't you sit near the fire, ma'am," said netty, gently; "you look cold." "no, miss, thank you. i'm not cold," was the faint reply. she was cold, though, as well she might be with her poor, thin shawl, and open bonnet, in such a bitter night as it was outside. and there was a rigid, sharp, suffering look in her pinched 36 the ghost. features that betokened she might have been hungry, too. " poor people don't mind the cold weather, miss," she said, with a weak smile, her w voice getting a little stronger. "they have to bear it, and they get used to it." she had not evidently borne it long enough to effect the point of indifference. netty looked at her with a tender pity. dr. renton thought to himself — hoh ! — blazoning her poverty — manufacturing sym pathy already — the old trick — and steeled himself against any attacks of that kind, looking jealously, meanwhile, at netty. " well, mrs. miller," he said, "what is it this evening ? i suppose you've brought me my rent." the little woman grew paler, and her voice seemed to fail on her quivering lips. netty cast a quick, beseeching look at her father. "nathalie, please to leave the room." we'll have no nonsense carried on here, he thought, triumphantly, as nettyrose, and obeyed the stern, decisive order, leaving the door ajar behind her. he seated himself in his chair, and reso lutely put his right leg up to rest on his left the ghost. 37 knee. he did not look at his tenant's face, determined that her piteous expressions (got up for the occasion, of course) should be wasted on him. " well; mrs. miller," he said again. " dr. kenton," she began, faintly gather ing her voice as she proceeded, "i have come to see you about the rent. i am very sorry, sir, to have made you wait, but we have been unfortunate." " sorry, ma'am," he replied, knowing what was coming ; " but your misfortunes are not my affair. we all have misfortunes, ma'am. but we must pay our debts, you know." " i expected to have got money from my husband before this, sir," she resumed, " and i wrote to him. i got a letter from him to-day, sir, and it said that he sent me fifty dollars a month ago, in a letter ; and it ap pears that the post-office is to blame, or somebody, for i never got it. it was nearly three months' wages, sir, and it is very hard to lose it. if it had n't been for that, your rent would have been paid long ago, sir." " don't believe a word of that story," thought dr. eenton, sententiously. " i thought, sir," she continued, embold 38 the ghost. ened by his silence, " that if you would be willing to wait a little longer, we would manage to pay you soon, and not let it oc cur again. it has been a hard winter with us, sir ; firing is high, and provisions, and everything ; and we 're only poor people, you know, and it's difficult to get along." the doctor made no reply. " my husband was unfortunate, sir, in not being able to get employment here," she resumed ; "his being out of work, in the autumn, threw us all back, and we 've got nothing to depend on but his earnings. the family that he 's in now, sir, do n't give him very good pay — only twenty dollars a month, and his board — but it was the best chance he could get, and it was either go to baltimore with them, or stay at home and starve, and so he went, sir. it 's been a hard time with us, and one of the children is sick, now, with a fever, and we do n't hardly know how to make out a living. and so, sir, i have come here this evening, leaving the chil dren alone, to ask you if you would n't be kind enough to wait a little longer, and we '11 hope to make it right with you in the end." "mrs. miller," said dr. eenton, with stern composure, " i have no wish to ques the ghost. 39 tion the truth of any statement you may make ; but i must tell you plainly, that i can't afford to let my houses for nothing. i told you a month ago, that if you couldn't pay me my rent, you must vacate the premises. you know very well that there are plenty of tenants who are able and willing to pay when the money comes due. you know that." he paused as he said this, and, glancing at her, saw her pale lips falter. it shook the cruelty of his purpose a little, and he had a vague feeling that he was doing wrong. not without a proud struggle, during which no word was spoken, could he beat it down. meanwhile, the phantom had advanced a pace toward the centre of the room. " that is the state of the matter, ma'am," he resumed, coldly. " people who will not pay me my rent must not live, in my tene ments. you must move out. i have no more to say." " dr. kenton," she said faintly, " i have a sick child — how can i move now ? oh ! sir, it 's christmas eve — don 't be hard with us !" instead of touching him, this speech irri tated him beyond measure. passing all considerations of her difficult position in volved in her piteous statement, his anger 40 the ghost. flashed at once on her implication that he was unjust and unkind. so violent was his excitement that it whirled away the words that rushed to his lips, and only fanned the fury that sparkled from the whiteness of his face in his eyes. " be patient with us, sir," she continued; " we are poor, but we mean to pay you ; and we can't move now in this cold weather ; please, don't be hard with us, sir." the fury now burst out on his face in a red and angry glow, and the words came. " now, attend to me ! " he rose to his feet. " i will not hear any more from you. i know nothing of your poverty, nor of the condition of your family. all i know is that you owe me three months' rent, and that you can't or won't pay me. i say, there fore, leave the premises to people who can and will. you have had your legal notice ; quit my house to-morrow ; if you do n't, your furniture shall be put in the street. mark me — to-morrow ! " the phantom had rushed into the centre of the room. standing, face to face with him — dilating — blackening — its whole form shuddering with a fury to which his own was tame — the semblance of a shriek upon the ghost. 41 its flashing lips, and on its writhing features, and an unearthly anger streaming from its bright and terrible eyes — it seemed to throw down, with its tossing arms, mountains of hate and malediction on the head of him whose words had smitten poverty and suf fering, and whose heavy hand was breaking up the barriers of a home. dr. renton sank again into his chair. his tenant — not a woman ! — not a sister in humanity! — but only his tenant; she sat crushed and frightened by the wall. he knew it vaguely. conscience was battling in his heart with the stubborn devils that had entered there. the phantom stood be fore him, like a dark cloud in the image of a man. but its darkness was lightening slow ly, and its ghostly anger had passed away. the poor woman, paler than before, had sat mute and trembling, with all her hopes ruined. yet her desperation forbade her to abandon the chances of his mercy, and she now said : " dr. renton, you surely do n't mean what you have told me. won't you bear with me a little longer, and we will yet make it all right with you ? " " i have given you my answer," he 42 the ghost. returned, coldly; "i have no more to add. i never take back anything i say — never ! " it was true. he never did — never ! she half rose from her seat as if to go ; but weak and sickened with the bitter result of her visit, she sunk down again with her head bowed. there was a pause. then, solemnly gliding across the lighted room, the phantom stole to her side with a glory of compassion on its wasted features. tender ly, as a son to a mother, it bent over her ; its spectral hands of light rested upon her in caressing and benediction ; its shadowy fall of hair, once blanched by the anguish of living and loving, floated on her throb bing brow; and resignation and comfort not of this world, sank upon her spirit, and consciousness grew dim within her, and care and sorrow seemed to die. he who had been so cruel and so hard, sat silent in black gloom. the stern and sullen mood from which had dropped but one fierce flash of anger, still hung above the heat of his mind, like a dark rack of thunder-cloud. it would have burst anew into a fury of rebuke, had he but known his daughter was listening at the door, while the colloquy went on. it might have flamed violently, the ghost. 43 had his tenant made any further attempt to change his purpose. she had not. she had left the room meekly, with the same curt, awkward bow that marked her entrance. he recalled her manner very indistinctly ; for a feeling, like a mist, began to gather in his mind, and make the occurrences of moments before uncertain. alone, now, he was yet oppressed with a sensation that something was near him. was it a spiritual instinct ? for the phantom stood by his side. it stood silently, with one hand raised above his head, from which a pale flame seemed to flow downward to his brain; its other hand pointed move lessly to the open letter on the table beside him. he took the sheets from the table, think ing, at the moment, only of george feval ; but the first line on which his eye rested was, " in the name of the saviour, i charge you, be true and tender to mankind ! " and the words touched him like a low voice from the grave. their penetrant reproach pierced the hardness of his heart. he tossed the let ter back on the table. the very manner of the act accused him of an insult to the dead. in a moment he took up the faded sheets 44 the ghost. more reverently, but only to lay them down again. he had not been well that day, and he now felt worse than before. the pain in his head had given place to a strange sense of dilation, and there was a silent, confused riot in his fevered brain, which seemed to him like the incipience of insanity. striv ing to divert his mind from what had passed, by reflection on other themes, he could not hold his thoughts ; they came teeming but dim, and slipped and fell away ; and only the one circumstance of his recent cruelty, mixed with remembrance of george feval, recurred and clung with vivid persistence. this tortured him. sitting there, with arms tightly interlocked, he resolved to wrench his mind down by sheer will upon other things ; and a savage pleasure at what at once seemed success, took possession of him. in this mood, he heard soft footsteps and the rustle of festal garments on the stairs, and had a fierce complacency in being able to clearly apprehend that it was his wife and daughter going out to the party. in a moment, he heard the controlled and even voice of mrs. renton — a serene and polished lady with whom he had lived for the ghost. 45 years in cold and civil alienation, both see ing as little of each other as possible. with a scowl of will upon his brow, he received her image distinctly into his mind, even to the miimtia of the dress and ornaments he knew she wore, and felt an absolutely savage exultation in his ability to retain it. then came the sound of the closing of the hall door and the rattle of receding wheels, and somehow it was nathalie and not his wife that he was holding so grimly in his thought, and with her, salient and vivid as before, the tormenting remembrance of his tenant, connected with the memory of george feval. springing to his feet, he walked the room. he had thrown himself on a sofa, still striving to be rid of his remorseful visita tions, when the library door opened, and the inside man appeared, with his hand held bashfully over his nose. it flashed on him at once, that his tenant's husband was the servant of a family like this fellow ; and, irri tated that the whole matter should be thus broadly forced upon him in another way, he harshly asked him what he wanted. the man only came in to say that mrs. ken ton and the young lady had gone out for the 46 the ghost. evening, but that tea was laid for him in the dining-room. he did not want any tea, and if anybody called, he was not at home. with this charge, the man left the room, closing the door behind him. if he could but sleep a little! rising from the sofa, he turned the lights of the chandelier low, and screened the fire. the room was still. the ghost stood, faintly radiant, in a remote corner. dr. renton lay down again, but not to repose. things he had forgotten of his dead friend, now started up again in remembrance, fresh from the grave of many years ; and not one of them but linked itself by some mysterious bond to something connected with his ten ant, and became an accusation. he had lain thus for more than an hour, feeling more and more unmanned by illness, and his mental excitement fast becoming in tolerable, when he heard a low strain of mu sic, from the swedenborgian chapel, hard by. its first impression was one of solemnity and rest, and its first sense, in his mind, was of relief. perhaps it was the music of an evening meeting; or it might be that the organist and choir had met for practice. the ghost. 47 whatever its purpose, it breathed through his heated fancy like a cool and fragrant wind. it was vague and sweet and wan dering at first, straying on into a strain more mysterious and melancholy, but very shad owy and subdued, and evoking the innocent and tender moods of early youth before worldliness had hardened around his heart. gradually, as he listened to it, the fires in his brain were allayed, and all yielded to a sense of coolness and repose. he seemed to sink from trance to trance of utter rest, and yet was dimly aware that either some thing in his own condition, or some super natural accession of tone, was changing the music from its proper quality to a harmony more infinite and awful. it was still low and indeterminate and sweet, but had un accountably and strangely swelled into a gentle and sombre dirge, incommunicably mournful, and filled with a dark significance that touched him in his depth of rest with a secret tremor and awe. as he listened, rapt and vaguely wondering, the sense of his tranced sinking seemed to come to an end, and with the feeling of one who had been descending for many hours, and at length lay motionless at the bottom of a 48 the ghost. deep, dark chasm, lie heard the music fail and cease. a pause, and then it rose again, blended with the solemn voices of the choir, sublimed and dilated now, reaching him as though from weird night gulfs of the upper air, and charged with an overmastering pathos as of the lamentations of angels. in the dimness and silence, in the aroused and exalted con dition of his being, the strains seemed un earthly in their immense and desolate grandeur of sorrow, and their mournful and dark significance was now for him. work ing within him the impression of vast, in numerable, fleeing shadows, thick-crowding memories of all the ways and deeds of an existence fallen from its early dreams and aims, poured across the midnight of his soul, and under the streaming melancholy of the dirge, his life showed like some monstrous treason. it did not terrify or madden him ; he listened to it rapt utterly as in some deadening ether of dream ; yet feeling to his inmost core all its powerful grief and accu sation, and quietly aghast at the sinister consciousness it gave him. still it swelled, gathering and sounding on into yet mightier pathos, till all at once it darkened and spread the ghost. 49 wide in wild despair, and aspiring again into a pealing agony of supplication, quivered and died away in a low and funereal sigh. the tears streamed suddenly upon his face; his soul lightened and turned dark within him ; and as one faints away, so con sciousness swooned, and lie fell suddenly down a precipice of sleep. the music rose again, a pensive and holy chant, and sounded on to its close, unaffected by the action of his brain, for he slept and heard it no more. he lay tranquilly, hardly seeming to breathe, in motionless repose. the room was dim and silent, and the furniture took uncouth shapes around him. the red glow upon the ceiling, from the screened fire, showed the misty figure of the phantom kneeling by his side. all light had gone from the spectral form. it knelt beside him, mutely, as in prayer. once it gazed at his quiet face with a mournful tenderness, and its shadowy hands caressed his forehead. then it resumed its former attitude, and the slow hours crept by. at last it rose and glided to the table, on which lay the open letter. it seemed to try to lift the sheets with its misty hands — but vainly. next it essayed the lifting of 4 50 the ghost. a pen which lay there — but failed. it was a piteous sight, to see its idle efforts on these shapes of grosser matter, which ap peared now to have to it but the existence of illusions. wandering about the shad owy room, it wrung its phantom hands as in despair. presently it grew still. then it passed quickly to his side, and stood before him. he slept calmly. it placed one ghostly hand above his forehead, and, with the other pointed to the open letter. in this attitude its shape grew momentarily more distinct. it began to kindle into bright ness. the pale flame again flowed from its hand, streaming downward to his brain. a look of trouble darkened the sleeping face. stronger — stronger ; brighter — brighter ; until, at last, it stood before him, a glorious shape of light, with an awful look of com manding love in its shining features — and the sleeper sprang to his feet with a cry ! the phantom had vanished. he saw nothing. his first impression was, not that he had dreamed, but that, awaking in the familiar room, he had seen the spirit of his dead friend, bright and awful by his side, and that it had gone ! in the flash of the ghost. 51 that quick change, from sleeping to waking, he had detected, he thought, the unearthly being that, he now felt, watched him from behind the air, and it had vanished ! the library was the same as in the moment of that supernatural revealing ; the open letter lay upon the table still ; only that was gone which had made these common aspects ter rible. then, all the hard, strong skepticism of his nature, which had been driven back ward by the shock of his first conviction, recoiled, and rushed within him, violently struggling for its former vantage ground; till, at length, it achieved the foothold for a doubt. could he have dreamed ? the ghost, invisible, still watched him. yes — a dream — only a dream ; but, how vivid — how strange ! with a slow thrill creep ing through his veins — the blood curdling at his heart — a cold sweat starting on his forehead, he stared through the dimness of the room. all was vacancy. with a strong shudder, he strode forward, and turned up the flames of the chandelier. a flood of garish light tilled the apartment. in a moment,, remembering the letter to which the phantom of his dream had pointed, he turned and took it from the table. 52 the ghost, the last page lay upward, and every word of the solemn counsel at the end seemed to dilate on the paper, and all its mighty mean ing rushed upon his soul. trembling in his^own despite, he laid it down and moved away. a physician, he remembered that he was in a state of violent nervous excitement, and thought that when he grew calmer its effects would pass from him. but the hand that had touched him had gone down deeper than the physician, and reached what god had made. he strove in vain. the very room, in its light and silence, and the lurking sentiment of something watching him, became terrible. he could not endure it. the devils in his heart, grown pusillanimous, cowered be neath the flashing strokes of his aroused and terrible conscience. he could not en dure it. he must go out. he will walk the streets. it is not late — it is but ten o'clock. he will go. the air of his dream still hung heavily about him. he was in the street — he hard ly remembered how he had got there, or when ; but there he was, wrapped up from the searching cold, thinking, with a quiet horror in his mind, of the darkened room the ghost. 53 he had left behind, and haunted by the sense that something was groping about, there in the darkness, searching for him. the night was still and cold. the full moon was in the zenith. its icy splendor lay on the bare streets, and on the walls of the dwellings. the lighted oblong squares of curtained windows, here and there, seemed dim and waxen in the frigid glory. the familiar aspect of the quarter had passed away, leaving behind only a corpse like neighborhood, whose huge, dead feat ures, staring rigidly through the thin, white shroud of moonlight that covered all, left no breath upon the stainless skies. through the vast silence of the night he passed along; the very sound of his footfalls was remote to his muffled sense. gradually, as he reached the first corner, he had an uneasy feeling that a thing — a formless, unimaginable thing — was dogging him. he had thought of going down to his club-room ; but he now shrank from en tering, with this thing near him, the lighted rooms where his set were busy with cards and billiards, over their liquors and cigars, and where the heated air was full of their idle faces and careless chatter, lest some one 54 the ghost. should bawl out that he was pale, and ask him what was the matter, and he should answer, tremblingly, that something was following him, and was near him then ! he must get rid of it first ; he must walk quickly, and baffle its pursuit by turning sharp corners, and plunging* into devious streets and crooked lanes, and so lose it ! it was difficult to reach through memory to the crazy chaos of his mind on that night, and recall the route he took while haunted by this feeling ; but he afterward remembered that, without any other pur pose than to baffle his imaginary pursuer, he traversed at a rapid pace a large portion of the moonlit city ; always (he knew not why) avoiding the more populous thorough fares, and choosing unfrequented and tortu ous byways, but never ridding himself of that horrible confusion of mind in which the faces of his dead friend and the pale woman were strangely blended, nor of the fancy that he was followed. once, as he passed the hospital where feval died, a faint hint seemed to flash and vanish from the clouds of his lunacy, and almost identify the dogging goblin with the figure of his dream ; but the conception instantly mixed the ghost. 55 with a disconnected remembrance that this was christmas eve, and then slipped from him, and was lost. he did not pause there, but strode on. but just there, what had been frightful became hideous. for at once he was possessed with the conviction that the thing that lurked at a distance behind him, was quickening its movement, and coming up to seize him. the dreadful fancy stung him like a goad, and, with a start, he accelerated his flight, horribly conscious that what he feared was slinking along in the shadow, close to the dark bulks of the houses, resolutely pursuing, and bent on overtaking him. faster ! his footfalls rang hollowly and loud on the moonlit pavement, and in contrast with their rapid thuds he felt it as something peculiarly terrible that the furtive thing behind, slunk after him with soundless feet. faster, faster! traversing only the most unfrequented streets, and at that late hour of a cold winter night, he met no one, and with a terrifying consciousness that his pursuer was gaining on him, he desperately strode on. he did not dare to look behind, dreading less what he might see, than the momentary loss of speed the action might occasion. faster, faster, faster ! and all at 56 the ghost. once he knew that the dogging thing had dropped its stealthy pace and was racing up to him. with a bound he broke into a run, seeing, hearing, heeding nothing, aware only that the other was silently louping on his track two steps to his one ; and with that frantic apprehension upon him, he gained the next street, flung himself around the corner with his back to the wall, and his arms convulsively drawn up for a grapple ; and felt something rush whirring past his flank, striking him on the shoulder as it went by, with a buffet that made a shock break through his frame. that shock restored him to his senses. his delusion was sud denly shattered. the goblin was gone. he was free. he stood panting, like one just roused from some terrible dream, wiping the reek ing perspiration from his forehead and thinking confusedly and wearily what a fool he had been. he felt he had wan dered a long distance from his house, but had no distinct perception of his whereabouts. he only knew he was in some thinly-peopled street, whose familiar aspect seemed lost to him in the magical disguise the superb moonlight had thrown the ghost. 57 over all. suddenly a film seemed to drop from his eyes, as they became riveted on a lighted window, on the opposite side of the way. he started, and a secret terror crept over him, vaguely mixed with the memory of the shock he had felt as he turned the last corner, and his distinct, awful feeling that something invisible had passed him. at the same instant he felt, and thrilled to feel, a touch, as of a light finger, on his cheek. he w t as in hanover street. before him was the house — the oyster-room staring at him through the lighted transparencies of its two windows, like two square eyes, below ; and his tenant's light in a chamber above ! the added shock which this dis covery gave to the heaving of his heart, made him gasp for breath. could it be? did he still dream ? "while he stood pant ing and staring at the building, the city clocks began to strike. eleven o'clock ; it was ten when he came away ; how he must have driven ! his thoughts caught up the word. driven — by what ? driven from his house in horror, through street and lane, over half the city — driven — hunted in ter ror, and smitten bv a shock here ! driven — driven ! he could not rid his mind of the 58 the ghost. word, nor of the meaning it suggested. the pavements about him began to ring and echo with the tramp of many feet, and the cold, brittle air was shivered with the noisy voices that had roared and bawled applause and laughter at the na tional theatre all the evening, and were now singing and howling homeward. groups of rude men, and ruder boys, their breaths steaming in the icy air, began to tramp by, jostling him as they passed, till he was forced to draw back to the wall, and give them the sidewalk. *dazed and gid dy, in cold fear, and with the returning sense of something near him, he stood and watched the groups that pushed and tum bled in through the entrance of the oyster room, whistling and chattering as they went, and banging the door behind them. he noticed that some came out presently, banging the door harder, and went, smok ing and shouting, down the street. still they poured in and out, while the street was startled with their stimulated riot, and the bar-room within echoed their trampling feet and hoarse voices. then, as his glance wan dered upward to his tenant's window, he thought of the sick child, mixing this hid the ghost. 59 eons discord in the dreams of fever. the word brought np the name and the thought of his dead friend. " in the name of the saviour, i charge you be true and tender to mankind ! " the memory of these words seemed to ring clearly, as if a voice had spoken them, above the roar that suddenly rose in his mind. in that moment he felt himself a wretched and most guilty man. he felt that his cruel words had entered that humble home, to make desperate pov erty more desperate, to sicken sickness, and to sadden sorrow. before him was the dram-shop, let and licensed to nourish the worst and most brutal appetites and in stincts of human natures, at the sacrifice of all their highest and holiest tendencies. the throng of tipplers and drunkards was swarming through its hopeless door, to gulp the fiery liquor whose fumes give all shames, vices, miseries, and crimes, a lawless strength and life, and change the man into the pig or tiger. murder was done, or nearly done, within those walls last night. within those walls no good was ever done; but, daily, unmitigated evil, whose results were reach ing on to torture unborn generations. he had consented to it all! he could not 60 tee ghost. falter, or equivocate, or evade, or excuse. his dead friend's words rang in his con science like the trump of the judgment angel. he was conquered. slowly, the resolve to instantly go in up rose within him, and with it a change came upon his spirit, and the natural world, sadder than before, but sweeter, seemed to come back to him. a great feeling of relief flowed upon his mind. pale and trembling still, he crossed the street with a quick, unsteady step, entered a yard at the side of the house, and, brushing by a host of white, rattling spectres of frozen clothes, which dangled from lines in the in closure, mounted some wooden steps, and rang the bell. in a minute he heard foot steps within, and saw the gleam of a lamp. his heart palpitated violently as he heard the lock turning, lest the answerer of his summons might be his tenant. the door opened, and, to his relief, he stood before a rather decent-looking irish man, bending forward in his stocking feet, with one boot and a lamp in his hand. the man stared at him from a wild head of tumbled red hair, with a half smile round his loose open mouth, and said, the ghost. 61 " begorra ! y ' this was a second floor tenant. dr. kenton was relieved at the sight of him ; but he rather failed in an attempt at his rent-day suavity of manner, when he said : " good evening, mr. flanagan. do you think i can see mrs. miller to-night ? " " she 's up there, docther, anyway." mr. flanagan made a sudden start for the stairs, with the boot and lamp at arm's length be fore him, and stopped as suddenly. " yull go up ? — or wud she come down to ye ? " there was as much anxious indecision in mr. flanagan's general aspect, pending the reply, as if he had to answer the question himself. " i '11 go up, mr. flanagan," returned dr. renton, stepping in, after a pause, and shutting the door. " but i 'm afraid she 's in bed." "naw — she 's not, sur." mr. flana gan made another feint with the boot and lamp at the stairs, but stopped again in curious bewilderment, and rubbed his head. then, with another inspiration, and speaking with such velocity that his words ran into each other, pell-mell, he continued : 62 the ghost. " th' small girl's sick, sur. begorra, i wor just pullin' on th' boots tuh gaw for the docther, in th' nixt streth, an' summons him to her relehf, far it's bad she is. a'id bet ther be goan." another start, and a move ment to put on the boot instantly, baffled by his getting the lamp into the leg of it, and involving himself in difficulties in try ing to get it out again without dropping either, and stopped finally by dr. renton. "you needn't go, mr. flanagan. i'll see to the child. do n't go." he stepped slowly up the stairs, followed by the bewildered flanagan. all this time dr. renton was listening to the racket from the bar-room. clinking of glasses, rattling of dishes, trampling of feet, oaths and laughter, and a confused din of coarse voices, mingling with boisterous calls for oysters and drink, came, hardly deadened by the partition walls, from the haunt below, and echoed through the corridors. loud enough within — louder in the street without, where the oysters and drink were reeling and roar ing off to brutal dreams. people trying to sleep here ; a sick child up stairs. listen ! " two stew ! one roast ! four ale ! hurry 'em up ! three stew ! in number six ! the ghost. 63 one fancy — two roast ! one sling ! three brandy — hot ! two stew ! one whisk 5 shm ! hurry 'em up ! what yeh ''bout ! three brand' punch — hot ! four stew ! what-je-e-h. 'bout ! two gin-cock-t'il ! one stew ! hu-r-r-y 'em up ! " clashing, rat tling, cursing, swearing, laughing, shouting, trampling, stumbling, driving, slamming, of doors. " hu-r-ry 'em up." "flanagan," said dr. eenton, stopping at the first landing, " do you have this noise every night ? " " naise ? hoo ! divil a night, docther, but i'm wehked out ov me bed wid 'em, sundays an' all. sure didn't they murdher wan of 'em, out an' out, last night ! " "is the man dead?" " dead ? troth he is. an' cowld." " h'm " — through his compressed lips. " flanagan, you needn't come up. i know the door. just hold the light for me here. there, that '11 do. thank you." he whis pered the last words from the top of the second flight. "are ye there, docther?" flanagan anxious to the last, and trying to peer up at him with the lamp-light in his eyes. "yes. that '11 do. thank you !" in the 64 the ghost. same whisper. before he could tap at the door, then darkening in the receding light, it opened suddenly, and a big irish woman bounced out, and then whisked in again, calling to some one in an inner room : " here he is, mrs. mill'r," and then bounced out again, with a ""walk royt in, if yoic plaze ; here's the choild " — and whisked in again, with a " sure an' jehms was quick ; " never once looking at him, and utterly un conscious of the presence of her landlord. he had hardly stepped into the room and taken off his hat, when mrs. miller came from the inner chamber with a lamp in her hand. how she started! with her pale face grown suddenly paler, and her hand on her bosom, she could only exclaim : " why, it's dr. eenton ! " and stand, still and dumb, gazing with a frightened look at his face, whiter than her own. whereupon mrs. flanagan came bolting out again, with wild eyes and a sort of stupefied horror in her good, coarse, irish features ; and then, with some uncouth . ejaculation, ran back, and was heard to tumble over some thing within, and tumble something else over in her fall, and gather herself up with a subdued howl, and subside. the ghost. 65 " mrs. miller," began dr. benton, in a low, husky voice, glancing at her frightened face, " i hope you '11 be composed. i spoke to you very harshly and rudely to-night; but i really was not myself — i was in anger — and i ask your pardon. please to over look it all, and — but i will speak of this presently; now — i am a physician; will you let me look now at your sick child ? " he spoke hurriedly, but with evident sincerity. for a moment her lips faltered ; then a slow flush came up, with a quick change of expression on her thin, worn face, and, reddening to painful scarlet, died away in a deeper pallor. " dr. renton," she said, hastily, " i have no ill-feeling for you, sir, and i know t you were hurt and vexed — and i know you have tried to make it up to me again, sir — secretly. i know who it was, now ; but i can't take it, sir. you must take it back. you know it was you sent it, sir ? " " mrs. miller," he replied, puzzled be yond measure, "i don't understand you. what do you mean ? " " do n't deny it, sir. please not to," she said imploringly, the tears starting to her eyes. " i am very grateful — indeed i 5 66 the ghost. am. but i can't accept it. do take it again." "mrs. miller," he replied, in a hasty voice, " what do yon mean ? i have sent yon nothing — nothing at all. i have, there fore, nothing to receive again." she looked at him fixedly, evidently impressed by the fervor of his denial. " yon sent me nothing to-night, sir ? " she asked, doubtfully. "nothing at any time — nothing," he answered, firmly. it would have been folly to have dis believed the truthful look of his wondering face, and she turned away in amazement and confusion. there was a long pause. " i hope, mrs. miller, you will not refuse any assistance i can render to your child," he said, at length. she started, and replied, tremblingly and confusedly, " no, sir ; we shall be grateful to you, if you can save her" — and went quickly, with a strange abstraction on her white face, into the inner room. he fol lowed her at once, and, hardly glancing at mrs. flanagan, who sat there in stupefac tion, with her apron over her head and face, he laid his hat on a table, went to the bed the ghost. 67 side of the little girl, and felt her head and pulse. he soon satisfied himself that the little sufferer was in no danger, under prop er remedies, and now dashed down a pre scription on a leaf from his pocket-book. mrs. flanagan, who had come out from the retirement of her apron, to stare stupidly at him during the examination, suddenly bobbed up on her legs, with enlightened alacrity, when he asked if there was any one that could go out to the apothecary's, and said, " sure i wull ! " he had a little trouble to make her understand that the prescription, which she took by the corner, holding it away from her, as if it were going to explode presently, and staring at it up side down — was to be left — " left, mind you, mrs. flanagan — with the apothecary — mr. flint — at the nearest corner — and he will give you some things, which you are to bring here." but she had shuffled off at last with a confident, "yis, sur — aw, i knoo," her head nodding satisfied assent, and her big thumb covering the note on the margin, " charge to dr. c. renton, bow doin street," (which /know, could not keep it from the eyes of the angels !) and he sat down to await her return. 68 the ghost. " mrs. miller,'' he said, kindly, " do n't be alarmed about your child. she is doing well; and, after you have given her the medicine mrs, flanagan will bring, you '11 find her much better, to-morrow. she must be kept cool and quiet, you know, and she '11 be all right soon." "oh! dr. renton, i am very grateful," was the tremulous reply ; " and we will fol low all directions, sir. it is hard to keep her quiet, sir ; we keep as still as we can, and the other children are very still ; but the street is very noisy all the daytime and evening, sir, and — " " i know it, mrs. miller. and 1 'm afraid those people down-stairs disturb you some what." " they make some stir in the evening, sir ; and it 's rather loud in the street some times, at night. the folks on the lower floors are troubled a good deal, they say." well they may be. listen to the bawl ing outside, now, cold as it is. hark ! a hoarse group on the opposite side walk beginning a song. " ro-o-1 on, sil-ver mo-o-n " — . the silver moon ceases to roll in a sudden explosion of yells and laughter, sending up broken fragments of curses, the ghost. 69 ribald jeers, whoopings, and cat-calls, high into the night air. " ga-1-a-ng ! hi-hi ! what ye-e-h 'lout ! " " this is outrageous, mrs. miller. where's the watchman ? " she smiled faintly. "he takes one of them off occasionally, sir ; but he 's afraid ; they beat him sometimes." a long pause. " is n't your room rather cold, mrs. mil ler?" he glanced at the black stove, dimly seen in the outer room. "it is necessary to keep the rooms cool just now, but this air seems to me cold." receiving no answer, he looked at her, and saw the sad truth in her averted face. "i beg your pardon," he said quickly, flushing to the roots of his hair. " i might have known, after what you said to me this evening," "we had a little fire here to-day, sir," she said, struggling with the pride and shame of poverty ; " but we have been out of firing for two or three days, and we owe the wharfman something now. the two boys picked up a few chips ; but the poor children find it hard to get them, sir. times are very hard with us, sir ; indeed they are. we 'd have got along better, if my husband's 70 the ghost. money had come, and your rent would have been paid — " " never mind the rent ! — don't speak of that ! " he broke in, with his face all aglow. " mrs. miller, i have n't done right by you — i know it. be frank with me. are you in want of — have you — need of — food ? " no need of answer to that faintly stam mered question. the thin, rigid face was covered from his sight by the worn, wan hands, and all the pride and shame of pov erty, and all the frigid truth of cold, hunger, anxiety, and sickened sorrow they had con cealed, had given way at last in a rush of tears. he could not speak. with a smit ten heart, he knew it all now. ah ! dr. eenton, you know these people's tricks? you know their lying blazon of poverty, to gather sympathy ? " mrs. miller " — she had ceased weeping, and as he spoke, she looked at him, with the tear-stains still on her agitated face, half ashamed that he had seen her — "mrs. mil ler, i am sorry. this shall be remedied. do n't tell me it shan't ! do n't ! i say it shall ! mrs. miller, i'm — i'm ashamed of myself. i am, indeed." " i am very grateful, sir, i 'm sure," said the ghost. 71 she ; " but we do n't like to take charity though we need help ; but we can get along now, sir — for, i suppose i must keep it, as you say you did n't send it, and use it for the children's sake, and thank god for his good mercy — since i do n't know, and never shall, where it came from, now." " mrs. miller," he said quickly, " you spoke in this way before ; and i do n't know what you refer to. what do you mean by — it ? " " oh ! i forgot sir : it puzzles me so. you see, sir, i was sitting here after i got home from your house, thinking what i should do, when mrs. flanagan came up-stairs with a letter for me, that she said a strange man left at the door for mrs. miller ; and mrs. flanagan could n't describe him well, or un destandingly ; and it had no direction at all, only the man inquired who was the land lord, and if mrs. miller had a sick child, and then said the letter was for me ; and there was no writing inside the letter, but there was fifty dollars. that 's all, sir. it gave me a great shock, sir ; and i could n't think who sent it, only when you came to-night, i thought it was you ; but you said it was n't, and i never shall know who it was, now. it 72 the ghost. seems as if the hand of god was in it, sir, for it came when everything was darkest, and i was in despair."' " why, mrs. miller," he slowly answered, " this is very mysterious. the man inquir ed if i was the owner of the house — oh ! no — he only inquired w t ho was — but then he knew i was the — oh ! bother ! i 'm getting nowhere. let 's see. why, it must be some one you know, or that knows your circum stances." " but there 's no one knows them but yourself; and i told you," she replied ; " no one else but the people in the house. it must have been some rich person, for the letter was a gilt-edge sheet, and there was perfume in it, sir." " strange," he murmured. " well, i give it up. all is, i advise you to keep it, and i 'm veryglad some one did his duty by you in your hour of need, though i ? m sorry it was not myself. here 's mrs. flanagan." there was a good deal done, and a great burden lifted off an humble heart — nay, two ! before dr. eenton thought of going home. there was a patient gained, likely to do dr. eenton more good than any patient he had lost. there was a kettle singing on the the ghost. 73 stove, and blowing off a happier steam than any engine ever blew on that railroad, whose unmarketable stock had singed dr. kenton's fingers. there was a yellow gleam flickering from the blazing fire on the sober binding of a good old book upon a shelf with others, a rarer medical work than ever slipped at auction from dr. kenton's hands, since it kept the sacred lore of him who healed the sick, and fed the hungry, and comforted the poor, and who was also the physician of souls. and there were other offices performed, of lesser range than these, before he rose to go. there w t ere cooling mixtures blended for the sick child ; medicines arranged ; di rections given; and all the items of her tendance orderly foreseen, and put in pigeon holes of when and how, for service. at last he rose to go. " and now, mrs. miller," he said, " i '11 come here at ten in the morning, and see to our patient. she '11 be nicely by that time. and — (listen to those brutes in the street ! — twelve o'clock, too — ah ! there's the bell), — as i was saying, my offence to you being occasioned by your debt to me, i feel my receipt for your debt should commence my reparation to you; 74 the ghost. and i'll bring itto-morrow. mrs. miller yon do n't quite come at me — what i mean is — yon owe me, nnder a notice to quit, three months' rent. consider that paid in full. i never will take a cent of it from you — not a copper. and i take back the notice. stay in my house as long as you like; the longer the better. but, up to this date, your rent 's paid. there. i hope you '11 have as happy a christmas as circum stances will allow, and i mean you shall." a flush of astonishment — of indefinable emotion, overspread her face. " dr. renton, stop, sir ! " he was mov ing to the door. " please, sir, do hear me ! you are very good — but i can't allow you to — dr. renton, we are able to pay you the rent, and we will, and we must — here — now. oh ! sir, my gratefulness will never fail to vou — but here — here — be fair with me, sir, and do take it ! " she had hurried to a chest of drawers, and came back with the letter which she had rustled apart with eager, trembling hands, and now, unfolding the single bank note it had contained, she thrust it into his fingers as they closed. "here, mrs. miller" — she had drawn the ghost. 75 back with her arms locked on her bosom, and he stepped forward — "no. no. this shan't be. come, come, you must take it back. good heavens ! " he spoke low, but his eyes blazed in the red glow which broke out on his face, and the crisp note in his ex tended hand shook violently at her — " soon er than take this money from you, i would perish in the street ! what ! do you think i will rob you of the gift sent you by some one who had a human heart for the dis tresses i was aggravating? sooner than — here, take it ! o my god ! what 's this ? " the red glow on his face went out, with this exclamation, in a pallor like marble, and he jerked back the note to his starting eyes ; globe bank — boston — fifty dollars. for a minute he gazed at the motionless bill in his hand. then, with his hueless lips compressed, he seized the blank letter from his astonished tenant, and looked at it, turning it over and over. grained letter paper — gilt-edged — with a favorite perfume in it. where 's mrs. flanagan ? outside the door, sitting on the top of the stairs, with her apron over her head, crying. mrs. flanagan ! here ! in she tumbled, her big feet kicking her skirts before her, and her eyes and face as red as a beet. 76 tee ghost. " mrs. flanagan, what kind of a looking man gave you this letter at the door to night ? " " a-w, docther kinton, daw n't ax me ! — bother, an' all, an' sure an' i cudn't see him wud his fur-r hat, an' he a-11 boondled oop wud his co-at oop on his e-ars, an' his big han'kershuf smotherin' thuh mouth uv him, an' sorra a bit uv him tuh be looked at, sehvin' thuh poomple on thuh ind uv his naws." " the what on the end of his nose ? " " thuh poomple, sur." "what does she mean, mrs. miller?" said the puzzled questioner, turning to his tenant. " i don't know, sir, indeed," was the re ply; "she said that to me, and i could n't understand her." " it's thuh poomple, docther. daw n't ye knoo ? thuh big, flehmin poomple oop there." she indicated the locality, by flat tening the rude tip of her own nose with her broad forefinger. " oh ! the pimple ! i have it." so he had. netty, netty ! he said nothing, but sat down in a chair, with his bold, white brow knitted, and the warm tears in his dark eyes. the ghost. 77 " you know who sent it, sir, don't you ? " asked his wondering tenant, catching the meaning of all this. "mrs. miller, i do. but i cannot tell you. take it, now, and use it. it is doubly yours. there. thank you." she had taken it with an emotion in her face that gave a quicker motion to his throb bing heart. he rose to his feet, hat in hand, and turned away. the noise of a passing group of roysterers in the street without, came strangely loud into the silence of that room. " good night, mrs. miller. i'll be here in the morning. good night." " good night, sir. god bless you, sir ! " he turned around quickly. the warm tears in his dark eyes had flowed on his face, which was pale ; and his firm lip quivered. " i hope he will, mrs. miller— i hope he will. it should have been said oftener." he was on the outer threshold. mrs. flanagan had, somehow, got there before him, with a lamp, and he followed her down through the dancing shadows, with blurred eyes. on the lower landing he stopped to hear the jar of some noisy wrangle, thick with oaths, from the bar-room. he listened 78 the ghost. for a moment, and then turned to the star ing stupor of mrs. flanagan's rugged ads age. " sure, they're at ut, docther, wud a wull," she said, smiling. " yes, mrs. flanagan, you '11 stay up with mrs. miller to-night, won 't you ? " "dade an' i wull, sur." " that 's right. do. and make her try and sleep, for she must be tired. keep up a fire — not too warm, you understand. there '11 be wood and coal coming to-mor row, and she '11 pay you back." " a-w, docther, daw n't noo ! " " well, w^ell. and — look here ; have you got anything to eat in the house ? yes ; well; take it up-stairs. wake up those two boys, and give them something to eat. don 't let mrs. miller stop you. make her eat something. tell her i said she must. and, first of all, get your bonnet, and go to that apothecary's — flint's — for a bottle of port wine, for mrs. miller. hold on. there's the order." (he had a leaf out of his pocket book in a minute, and wrote it down.) " go with this, the first thing. ring flint's bell, and he '11 wake up. and here 's something for your own christmas dinner, to-morrow." the ghost. 79 out of the roll of bills, lie drew one of the tens — globe bank — boston — and gave it to mrs. flanagan. " a-w, daw n't noo, docther." " bother ! it's for yourself, mind. take it. there. and now unlock the door. that 's it. good night, mrs. flanagan." "an' meh thuh hawly vurgin hape blessn's on ye, docther binton, wud a-11 thuh compliments uv thuh sehzin, for yur thuh—" he lost the end of mrs. flanagan's part ing benedictions in the moonlit street. he did not pause till he was at the door of the oyster-room. he paused then, to make way for a tipsy company of four, who reeled out — the gaslight from the barroom on the edges of their sodden, distorted faces — giv ing three shouts and a yell, as they slam med the door behind them. he pushed after a party that was just en tering. they went at once for drink to the upper end of the room, where a rowdy crew, with cigars in their mouths, and liquor in their hands, stood before the bar, in a knotty wrangle concerning some one who was killed. where is the keeper ? oh ! there lie is, mixing hot brandy punch for two. 80 the ghost. here, you, sir, go up quietly, and tell mr. rollins dr. renton wants to see him. the waiter came back presently to say mr. rol lins would be right along. twenty-five minutes past twelve. oyster trade nearly over. gaudy-curtained booths on the left all empty but two. oyster-openers and waiters — three of them in all — nearly done for the night, and two of them sparring and scuffling behind a pile of oysters on the trough, with the colored print of the great prize fight between tom hyer and yankee sullivan, in a veneered frame above them on the wall. blower up from the fire oppo site the bar, and stewpans and griddles empty and idle on the bench beside it, among the unwashed bowls and dishes. oys ter trade nearly over. bar still busy. here comes rollins in his shirt sleeves, with an apron on. thick-set, muscular man — frizzled head, low forehead, sharp, black eyes, flabby face, with a false, greasy smile on it now, oiling over a curious, steal thy expression of mingled surprise and in quiry, as he sees his landlord here at this unusual hour. " come in here, mr. rollins ; i want to speak to you." the ghost. si *• yes, sir. jim" (to the waiter), "go and tend bar." they sat down in one of the booths, and lowered the curtain. dr. ren ton, at one side of the table within, looking at rollins, sitting leaning on his folded arms, at the other side. " mr. rollins, i am told the man who was stabbed here last night is dead. is that :" " ttell, he is, dr. kenton. died this af ternoon. " w mr. rollins, this is a serious matter; what are you going to do about it v' " can't help it, sir. who's a-goin' to touch me ? called in a watchman. "whole mess of 'em had cut. ttho knows 'eni ( xobody knows 'em. man that was stuck never see the fellers as stuck him in all his life till then. didn't know which one of 'em did it. didn 't know nothing. do n't now, an' never will, 'nless he meets 'em in hell. that 's all. feller's dead, an' who 's a-o;oin' to touch me ? can't do it. ca-n-'t doit." "mr. rollins," said dr. kenton, thor oughly disgusted with this man's brutal in difference," your lease expires in three days.'' " "well, it does. hope to make a renewal 6 82 the ghost. with you, dr. renton. trade 's good here. should n't mind more rent on, if you insist — hope you won't — if it 's anything in reason. promise solium, i shan't have no more fightin' in here. could n't help this. ac cidents will happen, yo' know." "mr. rollins, the case is this: if you did n't sell liquor here, you 'd have no mur der done in your place — murder, sir. that man was murdered. it 's your fault, and it 's mine, too. i ought not to have let you the place for your business. it is a cursed traf fic, and you and i ought to have found it out long ago. i have. i hope you will. now, i advise you, as a friend, to give up selling rum for the future : you see what it comes to — do n't you ? at any rate, i will not be responsible for the outrages that are perpetrated in my building any more — i will not have liquor sold here. i refuse to renew your lease. in three days you must move." " dr renton, you hurt my feelin's. istow, how would you — " "mr. rollins, i have spoken to you as a friend, and you have no cause for pain. you must quit these premises when your lease expires. i 'm sorry i can't make you go the ghost. 83 before that. make no appeals to me, if you please. i am fixed. now, sir, goodnight.' the curtain was pulled up, and rollins rolled over to his beloved bar, soothing his lacerated feelings by swearing like a pirate, while dr. renton strode to the door, and went into the street, homeward. he walked fast through the magical moon light, with a strange feeling of sternness, and tenderness, and weariness, in his mind. in this mood, the sensation of spiritual and physical fatigue gaining on him, but a quiet moonlight in all his reveries, he reached his house. he was just putting his latch-key in the door, when it was opened by james, who stared at him for a second, and then dropped his eyes, and put his hand before his nose. dr. renton compressed his lips on an involuntary smile. "ah! james, you're up late. it's near one." " i sat up for mrs. renton and the young lady, sir. they 're just come, and gone up stairs." " all right, james. take your lamp and come in here. i 've got something to say to you." the man followed him into the li brary at once, with some wonder on his sleepy face. 84 the ghost. "first, put some coal on that fire, and light the chandelier. i shall not go up stairs to-night." the man obeyed. " now, james, sit down in that chair." he did so, beginning to look frightened at dr. kenton's grave manner. " james "—a long pause — " i want you to tell me the truth. where did you go to-night ? come, i have found you out. speak." the man turned as white as a sheet, and looked wretched with the whites of his bulg ing eyes, and the great pimple on his nose awfully distinct in the livid hue of his feafe ures. he was a rather slavish fellow, ancl thought he was going to lose his situation. please not to blame him, for he, too, was one of the poor. " oh ! dr. eenton, excuse me, sir ; i did n't mean doing any harm." " james, my daughter gave you an undi rected letter this evening ; you carried it to one of my houses in hanover street. is that true % " " ye-yes, sir. i couldn't help it. i only did what she told me, sir." " james, if my daughter told you to set fire to this house, what would you do ? " "i wouldn't do it, sir," he stammered, after some hesitation. the ghost. 85 " yon wouldn't ? james, if my daughter ever tells you to set fire to this house, do it, sir ! do it. at once. do whatever she tells you. promptly. and i '11 back you." the man stared wildly at him, as he re ceived this astonishing command. dr. ren ton was perfectly grave, and had spoken slowly and seriously. the man was at his wits' end. " you'll do it james — will you ? " "ye-yes, sir, certainly." " that 's right. james, you 're a good fellow. james, you 've got a family — a wife and children — hav'n't you ? " " yes, sir, i have ; living in the country, sir. in chelsea, over the ferry. for cheap ness, sir." "for cheapness, eh? hard times, james? how is it?" "pretty hard, sir. close, but toler'ble comfortable. pub and go, sir." "rub and go. ye-r-y well. rub and go. james, i'm going to raise your wages — to-morrow. generally, because you 're a good servant. principally, because you car ried that letter to-night, when my daughter asked you. i shan't forget it. to-morrow, mind. and if i can do anything for you, 86 the ghost. james, at any time, just tell me. that 's all. jstow, you'd better go to bed. and a happy christmas to yon ! " " much obliged to you, sir. same to you and many of 'em. good-night, sir." and with dr. kenton's "good-night" he stole up to bed, thoroughly happy, and determined to obey miss eenton's future instructions to the letter. the shower of golden light which had been raining for the last two hours, had fallen, even on him. it would fall all day to-morrow in many places, and the day after, and for long years to come. would that it could broaden' and increase to a general deluge, and submerge the world ! eow the whole house was still, and its master was weary. he sat there, quietly musing, feeling the sweet and tranquil presence near him. now the fire was screened, the lights were out, save one dim glimmer, and he had lain down on the couch with the letter in his hand, and slept the dreamless sleep of a child. he slept until the gray dawn of christ mas day stole into the room, and showed him the figure of his friend, a shape of glo rious light, standing by his side, and gazing the ghost. 87 at him with large and tender eyes ! he had no fear. all was deep, serene, and happy with the happiness of heaven. look ing up into that beautiful, wan face — so tranquil — so radiant; watching, with a child-like awe, the star-fire in those shadowy eyes ; smiling faintly, with a great, unuttera ble love thrilling slowly through his frame, in answer to the smile of light that shone upon the phantom countenance ; so he passed a space of time which seemed a calm eternity, till, at last, the communion of spirit with spirit — of mortal love with love im mortal — was perfected, and the shining hands were laid on his forehead, as with a touch of air. then the phantom smiled, and, as its shining hands were withdrawn, the thought of his daughter mingled in the vision. she was bending over him ! the dawn — the room, were the same. but the ghost of feval had gone out from earth, away to its own land ! " father, dear . father ! your eyes were open, and they did not look at me. there is a light on your face, and your features are changed ! what is it — what have you seen?" " hush, darling : here — kneel by me, for 83 the ghost. a little while, and be still. i have seen the dead." she knelt by him, burying her awe struck face in his bosom, and clung to him with all the fervor of her soul. he clasped her to his breast, and for minutes all was still. " dear child — good and dear child ! " the voice was tremulous and low. she lifted her fair, bright countenance, now con vulsed with a secret trouble, and dimmed with streaming tears, to his, and gazed on him. his eyes were shining ; but his pallid cheeks, like hers, were wet with tears. how still the room was ! how like a thought of solemn tenderness, the pale gray dawn! the world was far away, and his soul still w r andered in the peaceful awe of his dream. the world was coming back to him — but oh ! how changed ! — in the trouble of his daughter's face. " darling, what is it ? why are you here ? why are you weeping ? dear child, the friend of my better days — of the boy hood when i had noble aims, and life w t as beautiful before me — he has been here ! i have seen him. he has been with me — oh ! for a good i cannot tell ! " the ghost. 89 " father, dear father ! " — he had risen, and sat upon the conch, but she still knelt before him, weeping, and clasped his hands in hers — " i thought of yon and of this let ter, all the time. all last night till i slept, and then i dreamed you were tearing it to pieces, and trampling on it. i awoke, and lay thinking of yon, and of . and i thought i heard you come down-stairs, and i came here to find you. but you were lying here so quietly, with your eyes open, and so strange a light on your face. and i knew — i knew you were dreaming of him, and that you saw him, for the letter lay be side you. o father ! forgive me, but do hear me ! in the name of this day — it 's christmas day, father — in the name of the time when we must both die — in the name of that time, father, hear me 5 that poor woman last night — o father ! forgive me, but don't tear that letter in pieces and trample it under foot ! you know what i mean — you know — you know. do n't tear it, and tread it under foot ! " she clung to him, sobbing violently, her face buried in his hands. " hush, hush ! it 's all well— it 's all well. here, sit by me. so. i have " — his voice 90 the ghost. failed him, and he paused. but sitting by him — clinging to him — her face hidden in his bosom — she heard the strong beating of his disenchanted heart ! "my child, i know your meaning. i will not tear the letter to pieces and trample it under foot. god forgive me my life's slight to those words. but i learned their value last night, in the house where your blank letter had entered before me." she started, and looked into his face steadfastly, while a bright scarlet shot into her own. "i know all, netty — all. tour secret was well kept, but it is yours and mine now. it was well done, darling — well done. oh ! i have been through strange mysteries of thought and life since that starving wo man sat here ! well — thank god ! " " father, what have you done ? " the flush had failed, but a glad color still brightened her face, while the tears stood trembling in her eyes. "all that you wished yesterday," he answered. "and all that you ever could have wished, henceforth i will do." " o father ! "—she stopped. the bright scarlet shot again into her face, but with an tee ghost. 91 april shower of tears, and the rainbow of a smile. " listen to me, netty, and i will tell you, and only you, what i have done." then, while she mutely listened, sitting by his side, and the dawn of christmas broadened into christmas-day, he told her all. and when he had told all, and emotion was stilled, they sat together in silence for a time, she with her innocent head drooped upon his shoulder, and her eyes closed, lost in tender and mystic reveries ; and he musing with a contrite heart. till at last, the stir of daily life began to waken in the quiet dwelling, and without, from steeples in the frosty air, there was a sound of bells. they rose silently, and stood, clinging to each other, side by side. " love, we must part," he said, gravely and tenderly. " read me, before .we go, the closing lines of george feval's letter. in the spirit of this let me strive to live. let it be for me the lesson of the day. let it also be the lesson of my life." her face was pale and lit with exalta tion as she took the letter from his hand. there was a* pause — -and then upon the thrilling and tender silver of her voice, the words arose like solemn music : 92 the ghost. "farewells— farewell ! but, oh ! take my counsel into memory on christmas jda/y, and forever. once again, the ancient pro phecy of peace wnd good-will shines on a world of wars and wrongs and woes. its soft ra/y shines into the darkness of a land wherein swarm slaves, poor laborers, social pariahs, weeping women, homeless exiles, hunted fugitives, despised aliens, drunkards, convicts, wicked children, and magdalens unredeemed. these are but the ghastliest figures in that sad army of humanity which advances, by a dreadful road, to the golden age of the poets' dream. these are your sisters and your brothers. love them all. beware of wronging one of them by word or deed. friend ! strong in wealth for so much good — take my last counsel. in the name of the saviour, i charge you, be true and tender to mankind ! corns out from babylon into manhood, and live and labor for the fallen, the neglected, the suffering, and the poor. lover of arts, customs, laws, institutions, a/nd forms of society, love these things only as they help mankind ! with stern love, overturn them, or help to over turn them, when they become cruel to a sin gle — the humblest — human being. in the the ghost. 93 world's scale, social position, influence, pub lie power, the applause of majorities, heaps of funded gold, services rendered to creeds, codes, sects, parties, or federations — they weigh vjeight ; hut in god's scale — remem, her ! — on the day of hope, remember ! — your least service to humanity, outweighs them all!" 4/ the library of the university of california los angeles gift of professor ada nisbet [page 97 " such grotesque attitudes as his figure assumed i never saw" ghosts i have met and some others by john kendrick ^bangs with illustrations by newell, frost, and richards new york and london harper & brothers publishers 1902 copyright, 1898, by harper & brothers. all rights reserved. to choice spirits everywhere contents page ghosts that have haunted me. ... i the mystery of my grandmother's hair sofa 26 the mystery of barney o'rourke ... 43 the exorcism that failed 57 thurlow's christmas story 109 the dampmere mystery 140 carleton barker, first and second . .153 illustrations ' such grotesque attitudes as his figure assumed i never saw ". frontispiece ' i turned about, and there, fear ful to see, sat this thing grin ning at me" ....... facing p. 6 'the friendly spectre stood by me" " 16 he fled madly through the wainscoting of the room". . " 22 ' then he set about telling me of the beautiful gold and silver ware they use in the elysian fields" .... " 24 'there was no one there" ... " 32 ' i drained a glass of cooking sherry to the dregs" ... " 34 'it had turned white" .... " 40 it is not often that one's liter ary chickens come home to roost" " 44 11 six impty chairs, sorr '" ... " 54 ' ' l-lul-let me out!' he gasped". " 60 illustrations ' i shall keep shoving you for exactly one year '".... facing p. 64 i was forcibly unclad". ... " 74 he was amply protected" ... " 80 pinned him to the wall like a butterfly on a cork" ... " io6 face to face" " 116 he rattled on for half an hour " " 126 the demon vanished" .... " 128 ' doesn't dare look me in the eye!'" " 134 ' ' look at your so-called story and see'" " 138 ' it was to be the effort of his life" " 142 1 when he rose up in the morning he would find every single hair on his head standing erect" " 146 ' ' wears his queue pompadour, i see'" " 148 ghosts i have met, and some others ghosts that have haunted me a few spirit reminiscences if we could only get used to the idea that ghosts are perfectly harmless creatures, who are powerless to affect our well-being unless we assist them by giving way to our fears, we should enjoy the supernatural ex ceedingly, it seems to me. coleridge, i think it was, was once asked by a lady if he believed in ghosts, and he replied, " no, madame ; i have seen too many of them." which is my case exactly. i have seen so many horrid visitants from other worlds that they hardly affect me at all, so far as the mere inspiration of terror is concerned. on the other hand, they interest me hugely ; and while i must admit that i do experience all the purely physical sensations that come from horrific encounters of this nature, i a i ghosts i have met can truly add in my own behalf that men tally i can rise above the physical impulse to run away, and, invariably standing my ground, i have gained much useful infor mation concerning them. i am prepared to assert that if a thing with flashing green eyes, and clammy hands, and long, dripping strips of sea-weed in place of hair, should rise up out of the floor before me at this moment, 2 a.m., and nobody in the house but myself, with a fearful, nerve-destroying storm raging outside, i should without hesitation ask it to sit down and light a cigar and state its business or, if it were of the female persuasion, to join me in a bottle of sarsaparilla although every physi cal manifestation of fear of which my poor body is capable would be present. i have had experiences in this line which, if i could get you to believe them, would convince you that i speak the truth. knowing weak, suspicious human nature as i do, however, i do not hope ever to convince you though it is none the less true that on one occa sion, in the spring of 1895, there was a spirit ual manifestation in my library which nearly and some others prostrated me physically, but which mental ly i hugely enjoyed, because i was mentally strong enough to subdue my physical re pugnance for the thing which suddenly and without any apparent reason materialized in my arm-chair. i'm going to tell you about it briefly, though i warn you in advance that you will find it a great strain upon your confidence in my veracity. it may even shatter that confidence beyond repair ; but i cannot help that. i hold that it is a man's duty in this life to give to the world the benefit of his experience. all that he sees he should set down exactly as he sees it, and so sim ply, withal, that to the dullest comprehen sion the moral involved shall be perfectly obvious. if he is a painter, and an auburn haired maiden appears to him to have blue hair, he should paint her hair blue, and just so long as he sticks by his principles and is true to himself, he need not bother about what you may think of him. so it is with me. my scheme of living is based upon being true to myself. you may class me with baron munchausen if you choose ; i 3 ghosts i have met shall not mind so long as i have the con solation of feeling, deep down in my heart, that i am a true realist, and diverge not from the paths of truth as truth manifests itself to me. this intruder of whom i was just speak ing, the one that took possession of my arm-chair in the spring of 1895, was about as horrible a spectre as i have ever had the pleasure to have haunt me. it was worse than grotesque. it grated on every nerve. alongside of it the ordinary poster of the present day would seem to be as accurate in drawing as a bicycle map, and in its col oring it simply shrieked with discord. if color had tones which struck the ear, instead of appealing to the eye, the thing would have deafened me. it was about midnight when the manifestation first took shape. my family had long before retired, and i had just finished smoking a cigar which was one of a thousand which my wife had bought for me at a monday sale at one of the big department stores in new york. i don't remember the brand, but that is just as well it was not a cigar to be adver 4 and some others lised in a civilized piece of literature but i do remember that they came in bundles of fifty, tied about with blue ribbon. the one i had been smoking tasted and burned as if it had been rolled by a cuban insur rectionist while fleeing from a spanish regi ment through a morass, gathering its com ponent parts as he ran. it had two distinct merits, however. no man could possibly smoke too many of them, and they were economical, which is how the ever-helpful little madame came to get them for me, and i have no doubt they will some day prove very useful in removing insects from the rose-bushes. they cost $3 99 a thousand on five days a week, but at the monday sale they were marked down to $i 75, which is why my wife, to whom i had recently read a little lecture on economy, purchased them for me. upon the evening in question i had been at work on this cigar for about two hours, and had smoked one side of it three-quarters of the way down to the end, when i concluded that i had smoked enough for one day so i rose up to cast the other side into the fire, which was flicker 5 ghosts i have met ing fitfully in my spacious fireplace. this done, i turned about, and there, fearful to see, sat this thing grinning at me from the depths of my chair. my hair not only stood on end, but tugged madly in an effort to get away. four hairs i can prove the state ment if it be desired did pull themselves loose from my scalp in their insane desire to rise above the terrors of the situation, and, flying upward, stuck like nails into the oak ceiling directly over my head, whence they had to be pulled the next morning with nip pers by our hired man, who would no doubt testify to the truth of the occurrence as i have asserted it if he were still living, which, unfortunately, he is not. like most hired men, he was subject to attacks of lethargy, from one of which he died last summer. he sank into a rest about weed-time, last june, and lingered quietly along for two months, and after several futile efforts to wake him up, we finally disposed of him to our town crematory for experimental pur poses. i am told he burned very actively, and i believe it, for to my certain knowl edge he was very dry, and not so green as 6 z o s o* j> c^ 2 2 and some others some persons who had previously employed him affected to think. a cold chill came over me as my eye rested upon the horrid visitor and noted the greenish depths of his eyes and the claw-like formation of his fin gers, and my flesh began to creep like an inch-worm. at one time i was conscious of eight separate corrugations on my back, and my arms goose-fleshed until they looked like one of those miniature plaster casts of the alps which are so popular in swiss sum mer resorts ; but mentally i was not dis turbed at all. my repugnance was entirely physical, and, to come to the point at once, i calmly offered the spectre a cigar, which it accepted, and demanded a light. i gave it, nonchalantly lighting the match upon the goose-fleshing of my wrist. now i admit that this was extraordinary and hardly credible, yet it happened exactly as i have set it down, and, furthermore, i enjoyed the experience. for three hours the thing and i conversed, and not once during that time did my hair stop pulling away at my scalp, or the repugnance cease to run in great rolling waves up and down 7 ghosts i have met my back. if i wished to deceive you, i might add that pin-feathers began to grow from the goose-flesh, but that would be a lie, and lying and i are not friends, and, furthermore, this paper is not written to amaze, but to instruct. except for its personal appearance, this particular ghost was not very remarkable, and i do not at this time recall any of the details of our conversation beyond the point that my share of it was not particularly co herent, because of the discomfort attendant upon the fearful hair-pulling process i was going througho i merely cite its coming to prove that, with all the outward visible signs of fear manifesting themselves in no uncer tain manner, mentally i was cool enough to cope with the visitant, and sufficiently calm and at ease to light the match upon my wrist, perceiving for the first time, with an edison-like ingenuity, one of the uses to which goose-flesh might be put, and knowing full well that if i tried to light it on the sole of my shoe i should have fallen to the ground, my knees being too shaky to ad mit of my standing on one leg even for an 8 and some others instant. had i been mentally overcome, i should have tried to light the match on my foot, and fallen ignominiously to the floor then and there. there was another ghost that i recall to prove my point, who was of very great use to me in the summer immediately following the spring of which i have just told you. you will possibly remember how that the summer of 1895 had rather more than its fair share of heat, and that the lovely new jersey town in which i have the happiness to dwell appeared to be the headquarters of the temperature. the thermometers of the nation really seemed to take orders from beachdale, and properly enough, for our town is a born leader in respect to heat. having no property to sell, i can didly admit that beachdale is not of an arc tic nature in summer, except socially, per haps. socially, it is the coolest town in the state; but we are at this moment not discussing cordiality, fraternal love, or the question raised by the declaration of independence as to whether all men are born equal. the warmth we have in hand 9 ghosts i have met is what the old lady cahed " fahrenheat," and, from a thermofhe&ic point of view, beachdale, if i may be a trifle slangy, as i sometimes am, has heat to burn. there are mitigations of this heat, it is true, but they generally come along in winter. i must claim, in behalf of my l^wn, that never in all my experience have i known a summer so hot that it was not, sooner or later by january, anyhow followed by a cool spell. but in the summer of 1895 even the real-estate agents confessed that the cold wave announced by the weather bureau at washington summered else where in the tropics, perhaps, but not at beachdale. one hardly dared take a bath in the morning for fear of being scald ed by the fluid that flowed from the cold water faucet our reservoir is entirely un protected by shade-trees, and in summer a favorite spot for young waltons who like to catch bass already boiled my neighbors and myself lived on cracked ice, ice-cream, and destructive cold drinks. i do not my self mind hot weather in the daytime, but hot nights are killing. i can't sleep. i 10 and some others toss about for honps, and then, for the sake of variety, i flop, but sleep cometh not. my debts double, and my income seems to sizzle away under the influence of a hot, sleepless night ; and it was just here that a certain awful thing saved me from the insanity which is a certain result of parboiled in somnia. it was about the i6th of july, which, as i remember reading in an extra edition of the evening bun, got out to mention the fact, was the hottest i6th of july known in thirty eight years. i had retired at half -past sev en, after dining lightly upon a cold salmon and a gallon of iced tea not because i was tired, but because i wanted to get down to first principles at once, and remove my clothing, and sort of spread myself over all the territory i could, which is a thing you can't do in a library, or even in a white and-gold parlor. if man were constructed like a machine, as he really ought to be, to be strictly comfortable a machine that could be taken apart like an eight day clock i should have taken myself apart, putting one section of myself on the roof, ghosts i have met another part in the spare room, hanging a third on the clothes-line in the yard, and so on, leaving my head in the ice-box; but unfortunately we have to keep ourselves together in this life, hence i did the only thing one can do, and retired, and incident ally spread myself over some freshly baked bedclothing. there was some relief from the heat, but not much. i had been roast ing, and while my sensations were some what like those which i imagine come to a planked shad when he first finds himself spread out over the plank, there was a miti gation. my temperature fell off from 167 to about 163, which is not quite enough to make a man absolutely content. sudden ly, however, i began to shiver. there was no breeze, but i began to shiver. "it is getting cooler," i thought, as the chill came on, and i rose and looked at the thermometer. it still registered the highest possible point, and the mercury was rebel liously trying to break through the top of the glass tube and take a stroll on the roof. " that's queer," i said to myself. " it's as hot as ever, and yet i'm shivering. i 12 and some others wonder if my goose is cooked ? i've cer tainly got a chill." i jumped back into bed and pulled the sheet up over me ; but still i shivered. then i pulled the blanket up, but the chill continued. i couldn't seem to get warm again. then came the counterpane, and finally i had to put on my bath -robe a fuzzy woollen affair, which in midwinter i had sometimes found too warm for com fort. even then i was not sufficiently bun dled up, so i called for an extra blanket, two afghans, and the hot-water bag. everybody in the house thought i had gone mad, and i wondered myself if per haps i hadn't, when all of a sudden i per ceived, off in the corner, the awful thing, and perceiving it, i knew all. i was being haunted, and the physical repugnance of which i have spoken was on. the cold shiver, the invariable accom paniment of the ghostly visitant, had come, and i assure you i never was so glad of anything in my life. it has always been said of me by my critics that i am raw ; i was afraid that after that night they would 13 ghosts i have met say i was half baked, and i would far rather be the one than the other ; and it was the awful thing that saved me. realizing this, i spoke to it gratefully. " you are a heaven-born gift on a night like this," said i, rising up and walking to its side. " i am glad to be of service to you," the awful thing replied, smiling at me so yel lowly that i almost wished the author of the blue-button of cowardice could have seen it. " it's very good of you," i put in. " not at all," replied the thing ; " you are the only man i know who doesn't think it necessary to prevaricate about ghosts every time he gets an order for a christ mas stc ry. there have been more lies told about i s than about any other class of things in existence, and we are getting a trifle tired of it. we may have lost our corporeal existence, but some of our sensi tiveness still remains." " well," said i, rising and lighting the gas-logs for i was on the very verge of congealment " i am sure i am pleased if you like my stories." 14 and some others " oh, as for that, i don't think much of them," said the awful thing, with a purple display of candor which amused me, al though i cannot say that i relished it ; " but you never lie about us. you are not at all interesting, but you are truthful, and we spooks hate libellers. just because one happens to be a thing is no reason why writers should libel it, and that's why i have always respected you. we regard you as a sort of spook boswell. you may be dull and stupid, but you tell the truth, and when i saw you in imminent danger of becoming a mere grease spot, owing to the fearful heat, i decided to help you through. that's why i'm here. go to sleep now. i'll stay here and keep you shivering until daylight anyhow. i'd stay longer, but we are always laid at sunrise." " like an egg," i said, sleepily. " tutt !" said the ghost. " go to sleep. if you talk i'll have to go." and so i dropped off to sleep as softly and as sweetly as a tired child. in the morning i awoke refreshed. the rest of my family were prostrated, but i was fresh. 15 ghosts i have met the awful thing was gone, and the room was warming up again ; and if it had not been for the tinkling ice in my water-pitch er, i should have suspected it was all a dream. and so throughout the whole siz zling summer the friendly spectre stood by me and kept me cool, and i haven't a doubt that it was because of his good offices in keeping me shivering on those fearful au gust nights that i survived the season, and came to my work in the autumn as fit as a fiddle so fit, indeed, that i have not writ ten a poem since that has not struck me as being the very best of its kind, and if i can find a publisher who will take the risk of putting those poems out, i shall unequivo cally and without hesitation acknowledge, as i do here, my debt of gratitude to my friends in the spirit world. manifestations of this nature, then, are harmful, as i have already observed, only when the person who is haunted yields to his physical impulses. fought stubbornly inch by inch with the will, they can be sub dued, and often they are a boon. i think i have proved both these points. it took me 16 1 the friendly spectre stood by me and some others a long time to discover the facts, however, and my discovery came about in this way. it may perhaps interest you to know how i made it. i encountered at the english home of a wealthy friend at one time a "presence" of an insulting turn of mind. it was at my friend jarley's little baronial hall, which he had rented from the earl of brokedale the year mrs. jarley was pre sented at court. the countess of broke dale's social influence went with the cha teau for a slightly increased rental, which was why the jarleys took it. i was invited to spend a month with them, not so much because jarley is fond of me as because mrs. jarley had a sort of an idea that, as a writer, i might say something about their newly acquired glory in some american sunday newspaper; and jarley laughingly assigned to me the " haunted chamber," without at least one of which no baronial hall in the old country is considered worthy of the name. " it will interest you more than any oth er," jarley said ; " and if it has a ghost, i imagine you will be able to subdue him." b 17 ghosts i have met i gladly accepted the hospitality of my friend, and was delighted at his consider ation in giving me the haunted chamber, where i might pursue my investigations into the subject of phantoms undisturbed. deserting london, then, for a time, i ran down to brokedale hall, and took up my abode there with a half-dozen other guests. jarley, as usual since his sudden " gold fall," as wilkins called it, did everything with a lavish hand. i believe a man could have got diamonds on toast if he had chosen to ask for them. however, this is apart from my story. i had occupied the haunted chamber about two weeks before anything of im portance occurred, and then it came and a more unpleasant, ill-mannered spook nev er floated in the ether. he materialized about 3 a.m. and was unpleasantly sulphur ous to one's perceptions. he sat upon the divan in my room, holding his knees in his hands, leering and scowling upon me as though i were the intruder, and not he. " who are you ?" i asked, excitedly, as 18 and some others in the dying light of the log fire he loomed grimly up before me. " none of your business," he replied, in solently, showing his teeth as he spoke. " on the other hand, who are you ? this is my room, and not yours, and it is i who have the right to question. if you have any business here, well and good. if not, you will oblige me by removing yourself,, for your presence is offensive to me." " i am a guest in the house," i answered, restraining my impulse to throw the ink stand at him for his impudence. "and this room has been set apart for my use by my host." " one of the servant's guests, i presume?" he said, insultingly, his lividly lavender like lip upcurling into a haughty sneer, which was maddening to a self-respecting worm like myself. i rose up from my bed, and picked up the poker to bat him over the head, but again i restrained myself. it will not do to quar rel, i thought. i will be courteous if he is not, thus giving a dead englishman a lesson which wouldn't hurt son e of the living. 19 ghosts i have met " no," i said, my voice tremulous with wrath " no ; i am the guest of my friend mr. jarley, an american, who " " same thing," observed the intruder, with a yellow sneer. "race of low -class ani mals, those americans only fit for gentle men's stables, you know." this was too much. a ghost may insult me with impunity, but when he tackles my people he must look out for himself. i sprang forward with an ejaculation of wrath, and with all my strength struck at him with the poker, which i still held in my hand. if he had been anything but a ghost, he would have been split vertically from top to toe; but as it was, the poker passed harmlessly through his misty make-up, and rent a great gash two feet long in jarley's divan. the yellow sneer faded from his lips, and a maddening blue smile took its place. " humph !" he observed, nonchalantly. "what a useless ebullition, and what a vulgar display of temper! really you are the most humorous insect i have yet en countered. from what part of the states do you come? i am truly interested to 20 and some others know in what kind of soil exotics of your peculiar kind are cultivated. are you part of the fauna or the flora of your tropical states or what ?" and then i realized the truth. there is no physical method of combating a ghost which can result in his discomfiture, so i resolved to try the intellectual. it was a mind-to-mind contest, and he was easy prey after i got going. i joined him in his blue smile, and began to talk about the english aristocracy ; for i doubted not, from the spectre's manner, that he was or had been one of that class. he had about him that haughty lack of manners which be spoke the aristocrat. i waxed very elo quent when, as i say, i got my mind really going. i spoke of kings and queens and their uses in no uncertain phrases, of divine right, of dukes, earls, marquises of all the pompous establishments of british royalty and nobility with that contemptuously hu morous tolerance of a necessary and some what amusing evil which we find in american comic papers. we had a battle royal for about one hour, and 1 must confess he was 21 ghosts i have met a foeman worthy of any man's steel, so long as i was reasonable in my arguments ; but when i finally observed that it wouldn't be ten years before barnum and bailey's great est show on earth had the whole lot en gaged for the new york circus season, stalking about the madison square garden arena, with the prince of wales at the head beating a tomtom, he grew iridescent with wrath, and fled madly through the wainscot ing of the room. it was purely a mental victory. ah the physical possibilities of my being would have exhausted themselves f utilely before him ; but when i turned upon him the resources of my fancy, my imagi nation unrestrained, and held back by no sense of responsibility, he was as a child in my hands, obstreperous but certain to be subdued. if it were not for mrs. jarley's wrath which, i admit, she tried to con ceal over the damage to her divan, i should now look back uponi that visitation as the most agreeable haunving experience of my life ; at any rate, it was at that time that i first learned how to handle ghosts, and since that time i have been able to overcome ' and some others them without trouble save in one instance, with which i shall close this chapter of my reminiscences, and which i give only to prove the necessity of observing strictly one point in dealing with spectres. it happened last christmas, in my own home. i had provided as a little surprise for my wife a complete new solid silver service marked with her initials. the tree had been prepared for the children, and all had retired save myself. i had lingered later than the others to put the silver ser vice under the tree, where its happy recipient would find it when she went to the tree with the little ones the next morning. it made a magnificent display : the two dozen of each kind of spoon, the forks, the knives, the coffee-pot, water-urn, and all ; the sal vers, the vegetable-dishes, olive-forks, cheese scoops, and other dazzling attributes of a complete service, not to go into details, pre sented a fairly scintillating picture which would have made me gasp if i had not, at the moment when my own breath began to catch, heard another gasp in the corner im mediately behind me. turning about quick 23 ghosts i have met ly to see whence it came, i observed a dark figure in the pale light of the moon which streamed in through the window. " who are you ?" i cried, starting back, the physical symptoms of a ghostly presence manifesting themselves as usual. " i am the ghost of one long gone before," was the reply, in sepulchral tones. i breathed a sigh of relief, for i had for a moment feared it was a burglar. " oh !" i said. " you gave me a start at first. i was afraid you were a material thing come to rob me." then turning towards the tree, i observed, with a wave of the hand, " fine lay out, eh ?" " beautiful," he said, hollowly. " yet not so beautiful as things i've seen in realms beyond your ken." and then he set about telling me of the beautiful gold and silver ware they used in the elysian fields, and i must confess monte cristo would have had a hard time, with sindbad the sailor to help, to surpass the picture of royal magnificence the spectre drew. i stood inthralled until, even as he was talking, the clock struck three, when he 24 and some others rose up, and moving slowly across the floor, barely visible, murmured regretfully that he must be off, with which he faded away down the back stairs. i pulled my nerves, which were getting rather strained, together again, and went to bed. next morning every bit of that silver-ware was gone; and, what is more, three weeks later i found the ghost's picture in the rogues' gallery in new york as that of the cleverest sneak-thief in the country. all of which, let me say to you, dear reader, in conclusion, proves that when you are dealing with ghosts you mustn't give up all your physical resources until you have definitely ascertained that the thing by which you are confronted, horrid or otherwise, is a ghost, and not an all too material rogue with a light step, and a commodious jute bag for plunder concealed beneath his coat. " how to tell a ghost ?" you ask. well, as an eminent master of fiction fre quently observes in his writings, " that is another story," which i shall hope some day to tell for your instruction and my own aggrandizement. 25 the mystery of my grand mother's hair sofa it happened last christmas eve, and pre cisely as i am about to set it forth. it has been said by critics that i am a romancer of the wildest sort, but that is where my critics are wrong. i grant that the expe riences through which i have passed, some of which have contributed to the gray mat ter in my hair, however little they may have augmented that within my cranium ex periences which i have from time to time set forth to the best of my poor abilities in the columns of such periodicals as i have at my mercy have been of an order so excessively supernatural as to give my critics a basis for their aspersions ; but they do not know, as i do, that that basis is as uncertain as the shifting sands of 26 ghosts i have met the sea, inasmuch as in the setting forth of these episodes i have narrated them as faithfully as the most conscientious realist could wish, and am therefore myself a true and faithful follower of the realistic school. i cannot be blamed because these things happen to me. if i sat down in my study to imagine the strange incidents to which i have in the past called attention, with no other object in view than to make my readers unwilling to retire for the night, to destroy the peace of mind of those who are good enough to purchase my literary wares, or to titillate till tense the nerve tis sue of the timid who come to smile and who depart unstrung, then should i deserve the severest condemnation ; but these things i do not do. i have a mission in life which i hold as sacred as my good friend mr. howells holds his. such phases of life as i see i put down faithfully, and if the fates in their wisdom have chosen to make of me the balzac of the supernatural, the shake speare of the midnight visitation, while ele vating mr. howells to the high office of the fielding of massachusetts and its adjacent 27 ghosts i have met states, the smollett of boston, and the sterne of altruria, i can only regret that the powers have dealt more graciously with him than with me, and walk my little way as gracefully as i know how. the slings arid arrows of outrageous fortune i am pre pared to suffer in all meekness of spirit; i accept them because it seems to me to be nobler in the mind so to do rather than by opposing to end them. and so to my story. i have prefaced it at such length for but one reason, and that is that i am aware that there will be those who will doubt the veracity of my tale, and i am anxious at the outset to impress upon all the unques tioned fact that what i am about to tell is the plain, unvarnished truth, and, as i have already said, it happened last christmas eve. i regret to have to say so, for it sounds so much like the description given to other christmas eves by writers with a less con scientious regard for the truth than i pos sess, but the facts must be told, and i must therefore state that it was a wild and stormy night. the winds howled and moaned and made all sorts of curious noises, soughing 28 and some others through the bare limbs of the trees, whist ling through the chimneys, and, with reck less disregard of my children's need of rest, slamming doors until my house seemed to be the centre of a bombardment of no mean order. it is also necessary to state that the snow, which had been falling all day, had clothed the lawns and house-tops in a dazzling drapery of white, and, not content with having done this to the satisfaction of all, was still falling, and, happily enough, as silently as usual. were i the " wild romancer " that i have been called, i might have had the snow fall with a thunderous roar, but i cannot go to any such length. i love my fellow-beings, but there is a limit to my philanthropy, and i shall not have my snow fall noisily just to make a critic happy. i might do it to save his life, for i should hate to have a man die for the want of what i could give him with a stroke of my pen, and without any special effort, but until that emergency arises i shall not yield a jot in the manner of the falling of my snow. occasionally a belated home-comer would 29 ghosts i have met pass my house, the sleigh-bells strung about the ample proportions of his steed jingling loud above the roaring of the winds. my family had retired, and i sat alone in the glow of the blazing log a very satisfactory gas affair on the hearth. the flashing jet flames cast the usual grotesque shadows about the room, and my mind had thereby been reduced to that sensitive state which had hitherto betokened the coming of a visitor from other realms a fact which i greatly regretted, for i was in no mood to be haunted. my first impulse, when i rec ognized the on-coming of that mental state which is evidenced by the goosing of one's flesh, if i may be allowed the expression, was to turn out the fire and go to bed. i have always found this the easiest method of ridding myself of unwelcome ghosts, and, conversely, i have observed that others who have been haunted unpleasantly have suf fered in proportion to their failure to take what has always seemed to me to be the most natural course in the world to hide their heads beneath the bed-covering. bru tus, when caesar's ghost appeared beside 30 and some others his couch, before the battle of philippi, sat up and stared upon the horrid apparition, and suffered correspondingly, when it would have been much easier and more natural to put his head under his pillow, and so shut out the unpleasant spectacle. that is the course i have invariably pursued, and it has never failed me. the most luminous ghost man ever saw is utterly powerless to shine through a comfortably stuffed pillow, or the usual christmas-time quota of woollen blan kets. but upon this occasion i preferred to await developments. the real truth is that i was about written out in the matter of visitations, and needed a reinforcement of my uncanny vein, which, far from being varicose, had become sclerotic, so dry had it been pumped by the demands to which it had been subjected by a clamorous, mys tery-loving public. i had, i may as well confess it, run out of ghosts, and had come down to the writing of tales full of the horror of suggestion, leaving my readers unsatisfied through my failure to describe in detail just what kind of looking thing it was that had so aroused their apprehension ; ghosts i have met and one editor had gone so far as to reject my last ghost-story because i had worked him up to a fearful pitch of excitement, and left him there without any reasonable way out. i was face to face with a condition which, briefly, was that hereafter that de sirable market was closed to the products of my pen unless my contributions were ac companied by a diagram which should make my mysteries so plain that a little child could understand how it all came to pass. hence it was that, instead of following my own convenience and taking refuge in my spectre-proof couch, i stayed where i was. i had not long to wait. the dial in my fuel meter below-stairs had hardly had time to register the consumption of three thousand feet of gas before the faint sound of a bell reached my straining ears which, by-the way, is an expression i profoundly hate, but must introduce because the public demands it, and a ghost-story without straining ears having therefore no chance of acceptance by a discriminating editor. i started from my chair and listened intently, but the ring ing had stopped, and i settled back to the 32 "there was no one there" and some others delights of a nervous chill, when again the deathly silence of the night the wind had quieted in time to allow me the use of this faithful, overworked phrase was broken by the tintinnabulation of the bell. this time i recognized it as the electric bell operated by a push-button upon the right side of my front door. to rise and rush to the door was the work of a moment. it always is. in another instant i had flung it wide. this operation was singularly easy, consid ering that it was but a narrow door, and width was the last thing it could ever be suspected of, however forcible the fling. however, i did as i have said, and gazed out into the inky blackness of the night. as i had suspected, there was no one there, and i was at once convinced that the dread ed moment had come. i was certain that at the instant of my turning to re-enter my library i should see something which would make my brain throb madly and my pulses start. i did not therefore instantly turn, but let the wind blow the door to with a loud clatter, while i walked quickly into my dining-room and drained a glass of c 33 ghosts i have met cooking-sherry to the dregs. i do not in troduce the cooking sherry here for the purpose of eliciting a laugh from the reader, but in order to be faithful to life as we live it. all our other sherry had been used by the queen of the kitchen for cooking pur poses, and this was all we had left for the table. it is always so in real life, let critics say what they will. this done, i returned to the library, and sustained my first shock. the unexpected had happened. there was still no one there. surely this ghost was an original, and i began to be interested. " perhaps he is a modest ghost," i thought, " and is a little shy about mani festing his presence. that, indeed, would be original, seeing how bold the spectres of commerce usually are, intruding them selves always upon the privacy of those who are not at all minded to receive them." confident that something would happen, and speedily at that, i sat down to wait, lighting a cigar for company ; for burning gas-logs are not as sociable as their hissing, spluttering originals, the genuine logs, in a 34 "i drained a glass of cooking-sherry to the dregs " and some others state of ignition. several times i started up nervously, feeling as if there was some thing standing behind me about to place a clammy hand upon my shoulder, and as many times did i resume my attitude of comfort, disappointed. once i seemed to see a minute spirit floating in the air before me, but investigation showed that it was nothing more than the fanciful curling of the clouds of smoke i had blown from my lips. an hour passed and nothing oc curred, save that my heart from throbbing took to leaping in a fashion which filled me with concern. a few minutes later, how ever, i heard a strange sound at the win dow, and my leaping heart stood still. the strain upon my tense nerves was becoming unbearable. "at last !" i whispered to myself, hoarse ly, drawing a deep breath, and pushing with all my force into the soft upholstered back of my chair. then i leaned forward and watched the window, momentarily expect ing to see it raised by unseen hands ; but it never budged. then i watched the glass anxiously, half hoping, half fearing to see 35 ghosts i have met something pass through it ; but nothing came, and i began to get irritable. i looked at my watch, and saw that it was half-past one o'clock. " hang you !" i cried, " whatever you are, why don't you appear, and be done with it? the idea of keeping a man up until this hour of the night !" then i listened for a reply; but there was none. " what do you take me for ?" i contin ued, querulously. " do you suppose i have nothing else to do but to wait upon your majesty's pleasure ? surely, with all the time you've taken to make your debut, you must be something of unusual horror." again there was no answer, and i decided that petulance was of no avail. some other tack was necessary, and i decided to appeal to his sympathies granting that ghosts have sympathies to appeal to, and i have met some who were so human in this re spect that i have found it hard to believe that they were truly ghosts. " i say, old chap," i said, as genially as i could, considering the situation i was 36 and some others nervous, and the amount of gas consumed by the logs was beginning to bring up vi sions of bankruptcy before my eyes " hurry up and begin your haunting there's a good fellow. i'm a father please remember that and this is christmas eve. the children will be up in about three hours, and if you've ever been a parent yourself you know what that means. i must have some rest, so come along and show yourself, like the good spectre you are, and let me go to bed." i think myself it was a very moving ad dress, but it helped me not a jot. the thing must have had a heart of stone, for it never made answer. " what ?" said i, pretending to think it had spoken andj[ had not heard distinctly ; but the visitant was not to be caught nap ping, even though i had good reason to believe that he had fallen asleep. he, she, or it, whatever it was, maintained a silence as deep as it was aggravating. i smoked furiously on, to restrain my grow ing wrath. then it occurred to me that the thing might have some pride, and i re solved to work on that. 37 ghosts i have met " of course i should like to write you up," i said, with a sly wink at myself. " i imagine you'd attract a good deal of atten tion in the literary world. judging from the time it takes you to get ready, you ought to make a good magazine story not one of those comic ghost-tales that can be dashed off in a minute, and ultimately get published in a book at the author's expense. you stir so little that, as things go by contra ries, you'll make a stirring tale. you're long enough, i might say, for a three-vol ume novel but ah i can't do you un less i see you. you must be seen to be appreciated. i can't imagine you, you know. let's see, now, if i can guess what kind of a ghost you are. um ! you must be terrifying in the extreme you'd make a man shiver in mid -august in midafrica. your eyes are unfathomably green. your smile would drive the sanest mad. your hands are cold and clammy as a ah as a hot-water bag four hours after." and so i went on for ten minutes, prais ing him up to the skies, and ending up with a pathetic appeal that he should manifest 38 and some others his presence. it may be that i puffed him up so that he burst, but, however that may be, he would not condescend to reply, and i grew angry in earnest. " very well," i said, savagely, jumping up from my chair and turning off the gas log. " don't ! nobody asked you to come in the first place, and nobody's going to complain if you sulk in your tent like achil les. i don't want to see you. i could fake up a better ghost than you are anyhow in fact, i fancy that's what's the matter with you. you know what a miserable specimen you are couldn't frighten a mouse if you were ten times as horrible. you're ashamed to show yourself and i don't blame you. i'd be that way too if i were you." i walked half-way to the door, momenta rily expecting to have him call me back ; but he didn't. i had to give him a parting shot. " you probably belong to a ghost union don't you ? that's your secret ? ordered out on strike, and won't do any haunting after sundown unless some other employer of unskilled ghosts pays his spooks skilled wages." 39 ghosts i have met i had half a notion that the word "spook" would draw him out, for i have noticed that ghosts do not like to be called spooks any more than negroes like to be called "nig gers." -they consider it vulgar. he never yielded in his reserve, however, and after locking up i went to bed. for a time i could not sleep, and i began to wonder if i had been just, after all. pos sibly there was no spirit within miles of me. the symptoms were all there, but might not that have been due to my depressed condition for it does depress a writer to have one of his best veins become sclero tic i asked myself, and finally, as i went off to sleep, i concluded that i had been in the wrong all through, and had imagined there was something there when there really was not. "very likely the ringing of the bell was due to the wind," i said, as i dozed off. " of course it would take a very heavy wind to blow the button in, but then " and then i fell asleep, convinced that no ghost had ventured within a mile of me that night. but when morning came i was undeceived. 40 and some others something must have visited us that christ mas eve, and something very terrible ; for while i was dressing for breakfast i heard my wife calling loudly from below. " henry !" she cried. " please come down here at once." " i can't. i'm only half shaved," i an swered. " never mind that," she returned. " come at once." so, with the lather on one cheek and a cut on the other, i went below. " what's the matter ?" i asked. " look at that !" she said, pointing to my grandmother's hair-sofa, which stood in the hall just outside of my library door. it had been black when we last saw it, but as i looked i saw that a great change had come over it. // had turned white in a single night ! now i can't account for this strange in cident, nor can any one else, and i do not intend to try. it is too awful a mystery for me to attempt to penetrate, but the sofa is there in proof of all that i have said con cerning it, and any one who desires can call 41 ghosts i have met and see it at any time. it is not necessary for them to see me ; they need only ask to see the sofa, and it will be shown. we have had it removed from the hall to the white-and-gold parlor, for we cannot bear to have it stand in any of the rooms we use. the mystery of barney o'rourke a very irritating thing has happened. my hired man, a certain barney o'rourke, an american citizen of much political in fluence, a good gardener, and, according to his lights, a gentleman, has got very much the best of me, and all because of certain effusions which from time to time have emanated from my pen. it is not often that one's literary chickens come home to roost in such a vengeful fashion as some of mine have recently done, and i have no doubt that as this story progresses he who reads will find much sympathy for me rising up in his breast. as the matter stands, i am torn with conflicting emotions. i am very fond of barney, and i have always found him truthful hitherto, but exactly what to believe now i hardly know. 43 ghosts i have met the main thing to bring my present trouble upon me, i am forced to believe, is the fact that my house has been in the past, and may possibly still be, haunted. why my house should be haunted at all i do not know, for it has never been the scene of any tragedy that i am aware of. i built it myself, and it is paid for. so far as i am aware, nothing awful of a material nature has ever happened within its walls, and yet it appears to be, for the present at any rate, a sort of club-house for incon siderate if not strictly horrid things, which is a most unfair dispensation of the fates, for i have not deserved it. if i were in any sense a bluebeard, and spent my days cutting ladies' throats as a pastime; if i had a pleasing habit of inviting friends up from town over sunday, and dropping them into oubliettes connecting my library with dark, dank, and snaky subterranean dun geons ; if guests who dine at my house came with a feeling that the chances were they would never return to their families alive it might be different. i shouldn't and couldn't blame a house for being haunt 44 it is not often that one's literary chickens come home to roost" and some others ed if it were the dwelling-place of a blood thirsty ruffian such as i have indicated, but that is just what it is not. it is not the home of a lover of fearful crimes. i would not walk ten feet for the pleasure of killing any man, no matter who he is. on the con trary, i would walk twenty feet to avoid doing it, if the emergency should ever arise, aye, even if it were that fiend who sits next me at the opera and hums the opera through from beginning to end. there have been times, i must confess, when i have wished i might have had the oubliettes to which i have referred constructed beneath my li brary and leading to the coal -bins or to some long-forgotten well, but that was two or three years ago, when i was in politics for a brief period, and delegations of will ing and thirsty voters were daily and night ly swarming in through every one of the sixteen doors on the ground -floor of my house, which my architect, in a riotous mo ment, smuggled into the plans in the guise of " french windows." i shouldn't have minded then if the earth had opened up and swallowed my whole party, so long as 45 ghosts i have met i did not have to go with them, but under such provocation as i had i do not feel that my residence is justified in being haunt ed after its present fashion because such a notion entered my mind. we cannot help our thoughts, much less our notions, and punishment for that which we cannot help is not in strict accord with latter-day ideas of justice. it may occur to some hypercriti cal person to suggest that the english lan guage has frequently been murdered in my den, and that it is its horrid corse which is playing havoc at my home, crying out to heaven and flaunting its bloody wounds in the face of my conscience, but i can pass such an aspersion as that by with contempt uous silence, for even if it were true it could not be set down as wilful assassination on my part, since no sane person who needs a language as much as i do would ever in cold blood kill any one of the many that lie about us. furthermore, the english lan guage is not dead. it may not be met with often in these days, but .it is still encoun tered with sufficient frequency in the works of henry james and miss libby to prove 46 and some others that it still lives ; and i am told that one or two members of our consular service abroad can speak it though as for this i cannot write with certainty, for i have never en countered one of these exceptions to the general rule. the episode with which this narrative has to deal is interesting in some ways, though i doubt not some readers will prove scepti cal as to its realism. there are suspicious minds in the world, and with these every man who writes of truth must reckon. to such i have only to say that it is my desire and intention to tell the truth as simply as it can be told by james, and as truthfully as sylvanus cobb ever wrote ! now, then, the facts of my story are these : in the latter part of last july, expecting a meeting of friends at my house in con nection with a question of the good govern ment of the city in which i honestly try to pay my taxes, i ordered one hundred cigars to be delivered at my residence. i ordered several other things at the same time, but they have nothing whatever to do with this 47 ghosts i have met story, because they were all every single bottle of them consumed at the meeting ; but of the cigars, about which the strange facts of my story cluster, at the close of the meeting a goodly two dozen remained. this is surprising, considering that there were quite six of us present, but it is true. twenty four by actual count remained when the last guest left me. the next morning i and my family took our departure for a month's rest in the mountains. in the hurry of leaving home, and the worry of looking after three children and four times as many trunks, i neglected to include the cigars in my impedimenta, leaving them in the opened box upon my library table. it was careless of me, no doubt, but it was an important incident, as the sequel shows. the incidents of the stay in the hills were commonplace, but during my absence from home strange things were going on there, as i learned upon my return. the place had been left in charge of bar ney o'rourke, who, upon my arrival, as sured me that everything was all right, and i thanked and paid him. 48 and some others "wait a minute, barney," i said, as he turned to leave me ; " i've got a cigar for you." i may mention incidentally that in the past i had kept barney on very good terms with his work by treating him in a friendly, sociable way, but, to my great sur prise, upon this occasion he declined ad vances. his face flushed very red as he observed that he had given up smoking. " well, wait a minute, anyhow," said i. " there are one or two things i want to speak to you about." and i went to the table to get a cigar for myself. j7ie box was empty i instantly the suspicion which has doubt less flashed through the mind of the reader flashed through my own barney had been tempted, and had fallen. i recalled his blush, and on the moment realized that in all my vast experience with hired men in the past i had never seen one blush before. the case was clear. my cigars had gone to help barney through the hot summer. " well, i declare !" i cried, turning sud d 49 ghosts i have met denly upon him. " i left a lot of cigars here when i went away, barney." " i know ye did, sorr," said barney, who had now grown white and rigid. " i saw them meself, sorr. there was twinty-foor of 'em." " you counted them, eh ?" i asked, with an elevation of my eyebrows which to those who know me conveys the idea of suspicion. " i did, sorr. in your absence i was re sponsible for everyt'ing here, and the morn in' ye wint awaa i took a quick invintery, sorr, of the removables," he answered, fin gering his cap nervously. " that's how it was, sorr, and thim twinty-foor segyars was lyin' there in the box forninst me eyes." "and how do you account for the re moval of these removables, as you call them, barney?" i asked, looking coldly at him. he saw he was under suspicion, and he winced, but pulled himself together in an instant. " i expected the question, sorr," he said, calmly, "and i have me answer ready. thim segyars was shmoked, sorr." " doubtless," said i, with an ill-suppressed 50 and some others sneer. " and by whom ? cats ?" i added, with a contemptuous shrug of my shoulders. his answer overpowered me, it was so simple, direct, and unexpected. " shpooks," he replied, laconically. i gasped in astonishment, and sat down. my knees simply collapsed under me, and i could no more have continued to stand up than fly. " what ?" i cried, as soon as i had re covered sufficiently to gasp out the word. " shpooks," replied barney. " ut came about like this, sorr. it was the froiday two wakes afther you left, i became un'asy loike along about nine o'clock in the ave nin', and i t'ought i'd come around here and see if everything was sthraight. me wife sez ut's foolish of me, sorr, and i sez maybe so, but i can't get ut out o' me head thot somet'ing's wrong. " ' ye locked everyt'ing up safe whin ye left ?' sez she. " ' i always does,' sez i. " ' thin ut's a phwhim,' sez she. " ' no,' sez i. ' ut's a sinsation. if ut was a phwim, ut 'd be youse as would hov' 51 ghosts i have met it'; that's what i sez, sevarely loike, sorr, and out i shtarts. it was tin o'clock whin i got here. the noight was dark and blow in' loike march, rainin' and t'underin' till ye couldn't hear yourself t'ink. " i walked down the walk, sorr, an' bar rin' the t'under everyt'ing was quiet. i troid the dures. all toight as a politician. shtill, t'inks i, i'll go insoide. quiet as a lamb ut was, sorr; but on a suddent, as i was about to go back home again, i shmelt shmoke !" " fire ?" i cried, excitedly. " i said shmoke, sorr," said barney, whose calmness was now beautiful to look upon, he was so serenely confident of his position. " doesn't smoke involve a fire ?" i de manded. " sometimes," said barney. " i t'ought ye meant a conflagrashun, sorr. the shmoke i shmelt was segyars." "ah," i observed. " i am glad you are coming to the point. go on. there is a difference." " there is thot," said barney, pleasantly, he was getting along so swimmingly. " this 52 and some others shmoke, as i say, was segyar shmoke, so i gropes me way cautious loike up the back sthairs and listens by the library dure. all quiet as a lamb. thin, bold loike, i shteps into the room, and nearly drops wid the shcare i have on me in a minute. the room was dark as a b'aver hat, sorr, but in different shpots ranged round in the chairs was six little red balls of foire !" " barney !" i cried. " thrue, sorr," said he. " and tobacky shmoke rollin' out till you'd 'a' t'ought there was a foire in a segyarstore ! ut queered me, sorr, for a minute, and me impulse is to run ; but i gets me courage up, springs across the room, touches the electhric but ton, an' bzt! every gas-jet on the flure loights up !" " that was rash, barney," i put in, sar castically. " it was in your intherest, sorr," said he, impressively. " and you saw what ?" i queried, grow ing very impatient. " what i hope niver to see again, sorr,'* said barney, compressing his lips solemnly. 53 ghosts i have met " six impty chairs, sorr, wid six segyars as hoigh up from the flure as a man's mout', puffin' and a-blowin' out shmoke loike a chimbley ! an' ivery oncet in a whoile the segyars would go down kind of an' be tapped loike as if wid a finger of a shmoker, and the ashes would fall off onto the flure !" " well ?" said i. " go on. what next ?" " i wanted to run awaa, sorr, but i shtood rutted to the shpot wid th' surproise i had on me, until foinally ivery segyar was burnt to a shtub and trun into the foireplace, where i found 'em the nixt mornin' when i came to clane up, provin' ut wasn't ony dhrame i'd been havin'." i arose from my chair and paced the room for two or three minutes, wondering what i could say. of course the man was lying, i thought. then i pulled myself together. "barney," i said, severely, "what's the use ? do you expect me to believe any such cock-and-bull story as that ?" " no, sorr," said he. " but thim's the facts." " do you mean to say that this house of mine is haunted ?" i cried. 54 and some others " i don't know," said barney, quietly. " i didn't t'ink so before." "before? before what? when ?" i asked. " whin you was writin' shtories about ut, sorr," said barney, respectfully. " you've had a black horse-hair sofy turn white in a single noight, sorr, for the soight of horror ut's witnessed. you've had the hair of your own head shtand on ind loike tinpenny nails at what you've seen here in this very room, yourself, sorr. you've had ghosts doin' all sorts of t'ings in the shtories you've been writin' for years, and you've always swore they was thrue, sorr. i didn't believe 'em when i read 'em, but whin i see thim segyars bein' shmoked up before me eyes by invishible t'ings, i sez to meself, sez i, the boss ain't such a dommed loiar afther all. i've follyd your writin', sorr, very care ful and close loike ; an i don't see how, afther the tales you've told about your own experiences right here, you can say con sishtently that this wan o' mine ain't so !" " but why, barney," i asked, to confuse him, " when a thing like this happened, didn't you write and tell me ?" 55 ghosts i have me\ barney chuckled as only one of his spe cies can chuckle. "wroite an' tell ye?" he cried. "be gorry, sorr, if i could wroite at all at all, ut's not you oi'd be wroitin' that tale to, but to the edithor of the paper that you wroite for. a tale loike that is wort' tin dollars to any man, eshpecially if ut's thrue. but i niver learned the art !" and with that barney left me over whelmed. subsequently i gave him the ten dollars which i think his story is worth, but i must confess that i am in a dilemma. after what i have said about my supernat ural guests, i cannot discharge barney for lying, but i'll be blest if i can quite believe that his story is accurate in every respect. if there should happen to be among the readers of this tale any who have made a sufficiently close study of the habits of hired men and ghosts to be able to shed any light upon the situation, nothing would please me more than to hear from them. i may add, in closing, that barney has resumed smoking. the exorcism that failed i a jubilee experience it has happened again. i have been haunted once more, and this time by the most obnoxious spook i have ever had the bliss of meeting. he is homely, squat, and excessively vulgar in his dress and manner. i have met cockneys in my day, and some of the most offensive varieties at that, but this spook absolutely outcocknifies them all, and the worst of it is i can't seem to rid myself of him. he has pursued me like an avenging angel for quite six months, and every plan of exorcism that i have tried so far has failed, including the receipt given me by my friend peters, who, next to my self, knows more about ghosts that any man living. it was in london that i first en countered the vulgar little creature who has 57 ghosts i have met made my life a sore trial ever since, and with whom i am still coping to the best of my powers. starting out early in the morning of june 21, last summer, to witness the pageant of her majesty queen victoria's diamond ju bilee, i secured a good place on the corner of northumberland avenue and trafalgar square. there were two rows of people ahead of me, but i did not mind that. those directly before me were short, and i could easily see over their heads, and, further more, i was protected from the police, who in london are the most dangerous people i have ever encountered, not having the genial ways of the irish bobbies who keep the new york crowds smiling ; who, when you are pushed into the line of march, mere ly punch you in a ticklish spot with the end of their clubs, instead of smashing your hair down into your larynx with their sticks, as do their london prototypes. it was very comforting to me, having wit nessed the pageant of 1887, when the queen celebrated her fiftieth anniversary as a po tentate, and thereby learned the english 58 and some others police system of dealing with crowds, to know that there were at least two rows of heads to be split open before my turn came, and i had formed the good resolution to depart as soon as the first row had been thus treated, whether i missed seeing the procession or not. i had not been long at my post when the crowds concentrating on the line of march, coming up the avenue from the embank ment, began to shove intolerably from the rear, and it was as much as i could do to keep my place, particularly in view of the^ fact that the undersized cockney who stood al in front of me appeared to offer no resist ance to the pressure of my waistcoat against his narrow little back. it seemed strange that it should be so, but i appeared, de spite his presence, to have nothing of a ma terial nature ahead of me, and i found myself bent at an angle of seventy-five de grees, my feet firmly planted before me like those of a balky horse, restraining the on ward tendency of the mob back of me. strong as i am, however, and stubborn, i am not a stone wall ten feet thick at the 59 ghosts i have met base, and the pressure brought to bear upon my poor self was soon too great for my strength, and i gradually encroached upon my unresisting friend. he turned and hurled a few remarks at me that are not printable, yet he was of no more assistance in with standing the pressure than a marrowfat pea well cooked would have been. " i'm sorry," i said, apologetically, " but i can't help it. if these policemen would run around to the rear and massacre some of the populace who are pushing me, i shouldn't have to shove you." " well, all i've got to say," he retorted, " is that if you don't keep your carcass out of my ribs i'll haunt you to your dying day." " if you'd only put up a little backbone yourself you'd make it easier for me," i replied, quite hotly. "what are you, any how, a jelly-fish or an india-rubber man ?" he hadn't time to answer, for just as i spoke an irresistible shove from the crowd pushed me slap up against the man in the front row, and i 'was appalled to find the little fellow between us bulging out on both sides of me, cruslled longitudinally from top 60 l-lul-let me out !' he gasped " and some others to toe, so that he resembled a paper do~ll before the crease is removed from its mid dle, three-quarters open. " great heavens !" i muttered. " what have i struck ?" " l-lul-let me out !" he gasped. " don't you see you are squ-queezing my figure out of shape ? get bub-back, blank it !" " i can't," i panted. " i'm sorry, but" " sorry be hanged !" he roared. " this is my place, you idiot " this was too much for me, and in my inability to kick him with my foot i did it with my knee, and then, if i had not been excited, i should have learned the unhappy truth. my knee went straight through him and shoved the man ahead into the coat tails of the bobbie in front. it was fortu nate for me that it happened as it did, for the front-row man was wrathful enough to have struck me ; but the police took care of him ; and as he was carried away on a stretcher, the little jelly-fish came back into his normal proportions, like an inflated in.. dia-rubber toy. "what the deuce are you, anyhow?" i cried, aghast at the spectacle. 61 ghosts i have met " you'll find out before you are a year older !" he wrathfully answered. " i'll show you a shoving trick or two that you won't like, you blooming yank !" it made me excessively angry to be called a blooming yank. i am a yankee, and i have been known to bloom, but i can't stand having a low -class britisher apply that term to me as if it were an opprobrious thing to be, so i tried once more to kick him with my knee. again my knee passed through him, and this time took the police man himself in the vicinity of his pistol pocket. the irate officer turned quickly, raised his club, and struck viciously, not at the little creature, but at me. he didn't seem to see the jelly-fish. and then the horrid truth flashed across my mind. the thing in front of me was a ghost a misera ble relic of some bygone pageant, and visi ble only to myself, who have an eye to that sort of thing. luckily the bobbie missed his stroke, and as i apologized, telling him i had st. vitus's dance and could not con trol my unhappy leg, accompanying the apology with a half sovereign both of 62 and some others which were accepted peace reigned, and i shortly had the bliss of seeing the whole sovereign ride by that is, i was told that the lady behind the parasol, which obscured everything but her elbow, was her majesty the queen. nothing more of interest happened be tween this and the end of the procession, although the little spook in front occasion ally turned and paid me a compliment which would have cost any material creature his life. but that night something of impor tance did happen, and it has been going on ever since. the unlovely creature turned up in my lodgings just as i was about to retire, and talked in his rasping voice until long after four o'clock. i ordered him out, and he declined to go. i struck at him, but it was like hitting smoke. " all right," said i, putting on my clothes. " if you won't get out, i will." " that's exactly what i intended you to do," he said. " how do you like being shoved, eh? yesterday was the 2ist of june. i shall keep shoving you along, even as you shoved me, for exactly one year." 63 ghosts i have met " humph !" i retorted. " you called me a blooming yank yesterday. i am. i shall soon be out of your reach in the great and glorious united states." " oh, as for that," he answered, calmly, " i can go to the united states. there are steamers in great plenty. i could even get myself blown across on a gale, if i wanted to only gales are not always con venient. some of 'em don't go all the way through, and connections are hard to make. a gale i was riding on once stopped in mid -ocean, and i had to wait a week before another came along, and it landed me in africa instead of at new york." " got aboard the wrong gale, eh ?" said i, with a laugh. " yes," he answered. " didn't you drown ?" i cried, somewhat interested. " idiot !" he retorted. " drown ? how could i ? you can't drown a ghost !" " see here," said i, " if you call me an idiot again, i'll i'll " " what ?" he put in, with a grin. " now 64 and some others just what will you do? you're clever, but i'm a ghost!" " you wait and see !" said i, rushing an grily from the room. it was a very weak retort, and i frankly admit that i am ashamed of it, but it was the best i had at hand at the moment. my stock of repartee, like most men's vitality, is at its lowest ebb at four o'clock in the morning. for three or four hours i wandered aim lessly about the city, and then returned to my room, and found it deserted; but in the course of my peregrinations i had ac quired a most consuming appetite. usually i eat very little breakfast, but this morning nothing short of a sixteen -course dinner could satisfy my ravening; so instead of eating my modest boiled egg, i sought the savoy, and at nine o'clock entered the breakfast-room of that highly favored cara-i vansary. imagine my delight, upon enter-' ing, to see, sitting near one of the windows, my newly made acquaintances of the steam er, the travises of boston, miss travis look ing more beautiful than ever and quite as haughty, by whom i was invited to join e 65 ghosts i have met them. i accepted with alacrity, and was just about to partake of a particularly nice melon when who should walk in but that vulgar little spectre, hat jauntily placed on one side of his head, check-patterned trou sers loud enough to wake the dead, and a green plaid vest about his middle that would be an indictable offence even on an american golf links. "thank heaven they can't see the brute !" i muttered as he approached. " hullo, old chappie !" he cried, slapping me on my back. " introduce me to your charming friends," and with this he gave a horrible low-born smirk at miss travis, to whom, to my infinite sorrow, by some ac cursed miracle, he appeared as plainly visi ble as he was to me. " really," said mrs. travis, turning cold ly to me, "we we can't, you know we come, eleanor. we will leave this gentle man with his friend, and have our breakfast sent to our rooms." and with that they rose up and scornfully departed. the creature then sat down in miss travis's chair and began to devour her roll. 66 and some others " see here," i cried, finally, " what the devil do you mean ?" " shove number two," he replied, with his unholy smirk. " very successful, eh ? werl, just you wait for number three. it will be what you americans call a corker. by-bye." and with that he vanished, just in time to spare me the humiliation of shying a pot of coffee at his head. of course my appe tite vanished with him, and my main duty now seemed to be to seek out the travises and explain ; so leaving the balance of my breakfast untasted, i sought the office, and sent my card up to mrs. travis. the re sponse was immediate. " the loidy says she's gone out, sir, and ain't likely to be back," remarked the top lofty buttons, upon his return. i was so maddened by this slight, and so thoroughly apprehensive of further trouble from the infernal shade, that i resolved with out more ado to sneak out of england and back to america before the deadly blight ing thing was aware of my intentions. i immediately left the savoy, and sought the 67 ghosts i have met office of the green star line, secured a room on the steamer sailing the next morn ing the digestic from liverpool, and was about packing up my belongings, when // turned up again. " going away, eh ?" " yes," i replied, shortly, and then i en deavored to deceive him. " i've been in vited down to leamington to spend a week with my old friend dr. liverton." " oh, indeed !" he observed. " thanks for the address. i will not neglect you during your stay there. be prepared for a shove that will turn your hair gray. au revoir." and he vanished, muttering the address i had given him " dr. liverton, leaming ton dr. liverton." to which he added, " i won't forget that, not by a jugful." i chuckled softly to myself as he disap peared. " he's clever, but there are oth ers," i said, delighted at the ease with which i had rid myself of him ; and then eating a hearty luncheon, i took the train to liv erpool, where next morning i embarked on the digestic for new york. 68 and some others ii an unhappy voyage the sense of relief that swept over me when the great anchor of the digestic came up from the unstrained quality of the mer sey, and i thought of the fact that shortly a vast ocean would roll between me and that fearful spook, was one of the most de lightful emotions that it has ever been my good fortune to experience. now all seem ed serene, and i sought my cabin below stairs, whistling gayly ; but, alas ! how fleet ing is happiness, even to a whistler ! as i drew near to the room which i had fondly supposed was to be my own exclu sively i heard profane remarks issuing there from. there was condemnation of the soap ; there was perdition for the lighting appa ratus ; there were maledictions upon the lo cation of the port, and the bedding was excommunicate. "this is strange," said i to the steward. " j have engaged this room for the passage. i hear somebody in there." " not at all, sir," said he, opening the 69 ghosts i have met door; "it is empty." and to him it un doubtedly appeared to be so. "but," i cried, "didn't you hear anything?" " yes, i did," he said, candidly ; "but i supposed you was a ventriloquist, sir, and was a-puttin' up of a game on me." here the steward smiled, and i was too angry to retort. and then well, you have guessed it. he turned up and more vulgar than ever. " hullo !" he said, nonchalantly, fooling with a suit-case. " going over ?" " oh no !" i replied, sarcastic. " just out for a swim. when we get off the banks i'm going to jump overboard and swim to the azores on a wager." " how much ?" he asked. " five bob," said i, feeling that he could not grasp a larger amount. " humph !" he ejaculated. " i'd rather drive a cab as i used to." " ah ?" said i. " that's what you were, eh ? a cab-driver. takes a mighty mind to be that, eh? splendid intellectual ef fort to drive a cab from the reform club to the bank, eh ?" 70 and some others i had hoped to wither him. " oh, i don't know," he answered, suave ly. " i'll tell you this, though : i'd rather go from the club to the bank on my han som with me holding the reins than try to do it with mr. gladstone or the prince o' wiles on the box." " prince o' wiles ?" i said, with a with ering manner. " that's what i said," he retorted. " you would call him prince of whales, i suppose like a yank, a blooming yank because you think britannia rules the waves." i had to laugh ; and then a plan of con ciliation suggested itself. i would jolly him, as my political friends have it. " have a drink ?" i asked. " no, thanks ; i don't indulge," he re plied. " let me offer you a cigar." i accepted, and he extracted a very fair looking weed from his box, which he handed me. i tried to bite off the end, succeeding only in biting my tongue, whereat the pres ence roared with laughter. " what's the joke now ?" i queried, irri tated. ghosts i have met " you," he answered. " the idea of any one's being fool enough to try to bite off the end of a spook cigar strikes me as funny." from that moment all thought of con ciliation vanished, and i resorted to abuse. " you are a low-born thing !" i shouted. "and if you don't get out of here right away i'll break every bone in your body." " very well," he answered, coolly, scrib bling on a pad close at hand. " there's the address." " what address ?" i asked. " of the cemetery where those bones you are going to break are to be found. you go in by the side gate, and ask any of the grave-diggers where " " you infernal scoundrel !" i shrieked, " this is my room. i have bought and paid for it, and i intend to have it. do you hear ?" his response was merely the clapping of his hands together, and in a stage-whisper, leaning towards me, he said : " bravo ! bravo ! you are great. i think you could do lear. say those last words again, will you ?" 72 and some others his calmness was too much for me, and i lost all control of myself. picking up the water-bottle, i hurled it at him with all the force at my command. it crashed through him and struck the mirror over the wash stand, and as the shattered glass fell with a loud noise to the floor the door to my state-room opened, and the captain of the ship, flanked by the room steward and the doctor, stood at the opening. "what's all this about?" said the cap tain, addressing me. " i have engaged this room for myself alone," i said, trembling in my rage, " and i object to that person's presence." here i pointed at the intruder. " what person's presence ?" demanded the captain, looking at the spot where the haunting thing sat grinning indecently. " what person ?" i roared, forgetting the situation for the moment. " why, him it whatever you choose to call it. he's settled down here, and has been black guarding me for twenty minutes, and, damn it, captain, i won't stand it !" " it's a clear case," said the captain, with 73 ghosts i have met a sigh, turning and addressing the doctor. " have you a strait-jacket ?" " thank you, captain," said i, calming down. " it's what he ought to have, but it won't do any good. you see, he's not a material thing. he's buried in kensal green cemetery, and so the strait -jacket won't help us." here the doctor stepped into the room and took me gently by the arm. " take off your clothes," he said, " and lie down. you need quiet." " i ?" i demanded, not as yet realizing my position. " not by a long shot. fire him out. that's all i ask." " take off your clothes and get into that bed," repeated the doctor, peremptorily. then he turned to the captain and asked him to detail two of his sailors to help him. " he's going to be troublesome," he added, in a whisper. " mad as a hatter." i hesitate, in fact decline, to go through the agony of what followed again by writing of it in detail. suffice it to say that the doctor persisted in his order that i should undress and go to bed, and i, conscious of 74 "i was forcibly unclad" and some others the righteousness of my position, fought this determination, until, with the assist ance of the steward and the two able-bodied seamen detailed by the captain at the doc tor's request, i was forcibly unclad and thrown into the lower berth and strapped down. my wrath knew no bounds, and i spoke my mind as plainly as i knew how. it is a terrible thing to be sane, healthy, fond of deck-walking, full of life, and withal unjustly strapped to a lower berth below the water-line on a hot day because of a little beast of a cockney ghost, and i fairly howled my sentiments. on the second day from liverpool two maiden ladies in the room next mine made representations to the captain which result ed in my removal to the steerage. they couldn't consent, they said, to listen to the shrieks of the maniac in the adjoining room. and then, when i found myself lying on a cot in the steerage, still strapped down, who should appear but my little spectre. " well," he said, sitting on the edge of the cot, " what do you think of it now, eh ? 75 ghosts i have met ain't i a shover from shoverville on the push ?" " it's all right," i said, contemptuously. "but i'll tell you one thing, mr. spook: when i die and have a ghost of my own, that ghost will seek you out, and, by thun der, if it doesn't thrash the life out of you, i'll disown it !" it seemed to me that he paled a bit at this, but i was too tired to gloat over a little thing like that, so i closed my eyes and went to sleep. a few days later i was so calm and rational that the doctor released me, and for the remainder of my voyage i was as free as any other person on board, except that i found myself constantly under surveillance, and was of course much irri tated by the notion that my spacious state room was not only out of my reach, but probably in the undisputed possession of the cockney ghost. after seven days of ocean travel new york was reached, and i was allowed to step ashore without molestation. but my infernal friend turned up on the pier, and added injury to insult by declaring in my 76 and some others behalf certain dutiable articles in my trunks, thereby costing me some dollars which i should much rather have saved. still, after the incidents of the voyage, i thought it well to say nothing, and accepted the hard ships of the experience in the hope that in the far distant future my spook would meet his and thrash the very death out of him. well, things went on. the cockney spook left me to my own devices until november, when i had occasion to lecture at a certain college in the northwest. i travelled from my home to the distant platform, went upon it, was introduced by the proper function ary, and began my lecture. in the middle of the talk, who should appear in a vacant chair well down towards the stage but the cockney ghost, with a guffaw at a strong and not humorous point, which disconcerted me ! i broke down and left the platform, and in the small room at the side encoun tered him. " shove the fourth !" he cried, and van ished. it was then that i consulted peters as to how best to be rid of him. 77 ghosts i have met " there is no use of talking about it," i said to peters, " the man is ruining me. socially with the travises i am an outcast, and i have no doubt they will tell about it, and my ostracism will extend. on the di gestic my sanity is seriously questioned, and now for the first time in my life, before some two thousand people, i break down in a public lecture which i have delivered dozens of times hitherto without a tremor. the thing cannot go on." " i should say not," peters answered. " maybe i can help you to get rid of him r but i'm not positive about it; my new scheme isn't as yet perfected. have you tried the fire-extinguisher treatment ?" i will say here, that peters upon two oc casions has completely annihilated unpleas ant spectres by turning upon them the col orless and odorless liquids whose chemical action is such that fire cannot live in their presence. " fire, the vital spark, is the essential element of all these chaps," said he," and if you can turn the nozzle of your extinguisher on that spook your ghost simply goes out." 78 and some others " no, i haven't," i replied ; " but i will the first chance i get." and i left him, hope ful if not confident of a successful exorcism. on my return home i got out two of the extinguishers which were left in my back hall for use in case of an emergency, and tested one of them on the lawn. i merely wished to ascertain if it would work with spirit, and it did ; it went off like a soda water fountain loaded with dynamite, and i felt truly happy for the first time in many days. " the vulgar little beast would better keep away from me now," i laughed. but my mirth was short-lived. whether or not the obnoxious little chap had overheard, or from some hidden coign had watched my test of the fire-extinguisher i don't know, but when he came to my den that night he was amply protected against the anni hilating effects of the liquid by a flaring plaid mackintosh, with a toque for his head, and the minute i started the thing squirt ing he turned his back and received the charge harmless on his shoulders. the only effect of the experiment was the drench 79 ghosts i have met ing and consequent ruin of a pile of mss. i had been at work on all day, which gave me another grudge against him. when the extinguisher had exhausted itself, the spec tre turned about and fairly raised the ceil ing with his guffaws, and when he saw my ruined pages upon the desk his mirth be came convulsive. " de-lightful !" he cried. " for an im promptu shove wherein i turn over the shoving to you in my own behalf, i never saw it equalled. wouldn't be a bad thing if all writers would wet down their mss. the same way, now would it ?" but i was too indignant to reply, and too chagrined over my failure to remain within doors, so i rushed out and paced the fields for two hours. when i returned, he had gone. ill the spirit tries to make repa ration three weeks later he turned up once more. "great heavens!" i cried; "you back again?" " yes," he answered ; " and i've come to 80 and some others tell you i'm mighty sorry about those ruined mss. of yours. it is too bad that your whole day's work had to go for nothing." " i think so myself," i retorted, coldly. " it's rather late in the day for you to be sorry, though. if you'll show your sincer ity by going away and never crossing my path again, i may believe in you." " ah !" he said, " i've shown it in another way. indeed i have. you know i have some conscience, though, to tell the truth, i haven't made much use of it. this time, however, as i considered the situation, a little voice rose up within me and said : ' it's all right, old chap, to be rough on this person ; make him mad and shove him every which way ; but don't destroy his work. his work is what he lives by ' " yes," i interrupted, " and after what i told you on the steamer about what i would do to you when we got on even terms, you are not anxious to have me die. i know just how you feel. no thing likes to con template that paralysis that will surely fall upon you when my ghost begins to get in its fine work. i'm putting it in training now." f 81 ghosts i have met " you poor droll mortal !" laughed the cockney. " you poor droll mortal ! as if i could ever be afraid of that ! what is the matter with my going into training myself? two can train, you know even three. you almost make me feel sorry i tried to remedy the loss of those mss." somehow or other a sense of some new misfortune came upon me. " what ?" i said, nervously. " i say i'm almost sorry i tried to remedy the loss of those manuscripts. composi tion, particularly poetry, is devilish hard for me i admit it and when i think of how i toiled over my substitutes for your ruined stuff, and see how very ungrateful you are, i grudge the effort." " i don't understand you," i said, anx iously. " what do you mean ?" " i mean that i have written and sent out to the editors of the papers you write for a half a dozen poems and short stories." " what has all that got to do with me ?" i demanded. "a great deal," he said. "you'll get the pay. i signed your name to 'em" 82 and some others "y you you you did what?" i cried. " signed your name to 'em. there was a sonnet to 'a coal grab' that was the longest of the lot. i think it will cover at least six magazine pages " " but," i cried, " a sonnet never contains more than fourteen lines you fool !" " oh yes, it does," he replied, calmly. " this one of yours had over four hundred. and then i wrote a three-page quatrain on ' immortality,' which, if i do say it, is the funniest thing i ever read. i sent that to the weekly methodist:' 1 " good lord, good lord, good lord !" i moaned. " a three-page quatrain !" " yes," he observed, calmly lighting one of his accursed cigars. "and you'll get all the credit." a ray of hope entered my soul, and it enabled me to laugh hysterically. " they'll know it isn't mine," said i. " they know my handwriting at the office of the weekly methodist." " no doubt," said he, dashing all my hopes to the ground. " but ah to rem 83 ghosts 1 have met edy that drawback i took pains to find out what type-writer you used, and i had my quatrain copied on one of the same make." " but the letter the note with the manu script ?" i put in. " oh, i got over that very easily," he said. *' i had that written also on the machine, on thin paper, and traced your signature at the bottom. it will be all right, my dear fellow. they'll never suspect." and then, looking at the spirit-watch which he carried in his spectral fob-pocket, he vanished, leaving me immersed in the deepest misery of my life. not content with ruining me socially, and as a lecturer ; not satisfied with destroying me mentally on the seas, he had now attacked me on my most vulnerable point, my literary aspira tions. i could not rest until i had read his 41 three-page quatrain" on "immortality." vulgar as i knew him to be, i felt confident that over my name something had gone out which even in my least self-respecting moods i could not tolerate. the only comfort that came to me was that his verses and his type-writing and his tracings of my au 84 and some others tograph would be as spectral to others as to the eye not attuned to the seeing of ghosts. i was soon to be undeceived, how ever, for the next morning's mail brought to my home a dozen packages from my best " consumers," containing the maudlin friv clings of this this this well, there is no polite word to describe him in any known tongue. i shall have to study the aryan language or kipling to find an epithet strong enough to apply to this especial case. every point, every single detail, about these packages was convincing evidence of their contents having been of my own produc tion. the return envelopes were marked at the upper corner with my name and address. the handwriting upon them was manifestly mine, although i never in my life penned those particular superscriptions. within these envelopes were, i might say, pounds of mss., apparently from my own type writing machine, and signed in an autograph which would have deceived even myself. and the stuff ! stuff is not the word in fact, there is no word in any language, however primitive 85 ghosts i have met and impolite, that will describe accurately the substance of those pages. and with each came a letter from the editor of the periodical to which the tale or poem had been sent advising me to stop work for a while, and one siiggested the keeley cure! immediately i sat down and wrote to the various editors to whom these productions had been submitted, explaining all and every one of them came back to me un opened, with the average statement that until i had rested a year they really hadn't the time to read what i wrote ; and my best friend among them, the editor of the week ly methodist, took the trouble to telegraph to my brother the recommendation that i should be looked after. and out of the mistaken kindness of his heart, he printed a personal in his next issue to the effect that his "valued contributor, mr. me, the public would regret to hear, was confined to his house by a sudden and severe attack of nervous prostration," following it up with an estimate of my career, which bore every mark of having been saved up to that time for use as an obituary. 86 and some others and as i read the latter the obituary over, with tears in my eyes, what should i hear but the words, spoken at my back, clear ly, but in unmistakable cockney accents, " shove the fifth !" followed by uproari ous laughter. i grabbed up the ink-bottle and threw it with all my strength back of me, and succeeded only in destroying the wall-paper. iv the failure the destruction of the wall-paper, not to mention the wiping out in a moment of my means of livelihood, made of the fifth shove an intolerable nuisance. controlling my self with difficulty, i put on my hat and rushed to the telegraph office, whence i despatched a message, marked " rush," to peters. " for heaven's sake, complete your ex orcism and bring it here at once," i wired him. " answer collect." peters by no means soothed my agitation by his immediate and extremely flippant response. " i don't know why you wish me to an 87 ghosts i have met swer collect, but i suppose you do. so i answer as you request: collect. what is it you are going to collect ? your scattered faculties ?" he telegraphed. it was a mean sort of a telegram to send to a man in my unhappy state, and if he hadn't prepaid it i should never have forgiven him. i was mad enough when i received it, and a hot retort was about to go back, when the both ersome spook turned up and drew my mind off to other things. " well, what do you think of me ?" he said, ensconcing himself calmly on my di van. " pretty successful shover myself, eh ?" then he turned his eye to the ink spots on the wall. " novel design in deco ration, that. you ought to get employment in some wall-paper house. given an accu rate aim and plenty of ink, you can't be beaten for vigorous spatter-work." i pretended to ignore his presence, and there was a short pause, after which he began again : "sulky, eh? oh, well, i don't blame you. there's nothing in this world that can so harrow up one's soul as impotent and some others wrath. i've heard of people bursting with it. i've had experiences in the art of irri tation before this case. there was a fellow once hired my cab for an hour. drove him all about london, and then he stopped in at a chop-house, leaving me outside. i waited and waited and waited, but he never came back. left by the back door, you know. clever trick, and for a while the laugh was on me ; but when i got to the point where i could haunt him, i did it to the regent's taste. i found him three years after my demise, and through the balance of his life pursued him everywhere with a phantom cab. if he went to church, i'd drive my spectre rig right down the middle aisle after him. if he called on a girl, there was the cab drawn up alongside of him in the parlor all the time, the horse stamping his foot and whinnying like all possessed. of course no one else saw me or the horse or the cab, but he did; and, lord! how mad he was, and how hopeless ! finally, in a sudden surge of wrath at his impotence, he burst, just like a soap-bubble. it was most amusing. even the horse laughed." 89 ghosts i have met " thanks for the story," said . i, wishing to anger him by my nonchalance. " i'll write it up." " do," he said. " it will make a clever sixth shove for me. people say your fan cies are too wild and extravagant even now. a story like that will finish you at once." " again, thanks," said i, very calmly. " this time for the hint. acting on your advice, i won't write it up." " don't," he retorted. " and be forever haunted with the idea. either way, it suits me." and he vanished once more. the next morning peters arrived at my house. " i've come," he said, as he entered my den. "the scheme is perfected at last, and possibly you can use it. you need help of some kind. i can see that, just by reading your telegram. you're nervous as a cat. how do you heat your house ?" " what's that got to do with it ?" i de manded, irritably. " you can't evaporate the little cuss." " don't want to," peters replied. " that's 90 and some others been tried before, and it doesn't work. my scheme is a better one than that. did you ever notice, while smoking in a house that is heated by a hot-air furnace, how, when a cloud of smoke gets caught in the current of air from the register, it is mauled and twisted until it gets free, or else is torn en tirely apart ?" " yes, i have," said i. " what of it ?" " well, what's the matter with being ge nial with your old cockney until he gets in the habit of coming here every night, and bide your time until, without his knowing it, you can turn a blast from the furnace on him that will simply rend him to pieces ?" " by jove !" i cried, delightedly. " you are a genius, old chap." i rose and shook his hand until he re monstrated. " save your energy for him," said he. " you'll need it. it won't be a pleasant spectacle to witness when, in his struggles to get away, he is gradually dismembered. it will be something like the drawing and quartering punishment of olden times." i shuddered as i thought of it, and for a 91 ghosts i have met moment was disposed to reject the plan r but my weakness left me as i thought of the ruin that stared me in the face. " oh, i don't know," i said, shaking my head. " it will have its pleasurable side,, however fearsome it may prove as a sight. this house is just fitted for the operation, particularly on warm days. i have seen times when the blasts of hot air from my furnace have blown one of my poems off my table across the room." "great scott!" cried peters. "what a cyclone of an air-box you must have !" fortunately the winter season was on, and we were able to test the capacity of the furnace, with gratifying results. a soap bubble was blown, and allowed to float downward until the current was reached, and the novel shapes it took, as it was blown about the room in its struggles to escape before it burst, were truly wonder ful. i doubted not for an instant, from what i then saw, that the little cad of a spectre that was ruining my life would soon meet his nemesis. so convinced was i of the ultimate success of the plan that i could 92 and some others hardly wait patiently for his coming. i be came morbidly anxious for the horrid spec tacle which i should witness as his body was torn apart and gradually annihilated by the relentless output of my furnace flues. to my great annoyance, it was two weeks before he turned up again, and i was be ginning to fear that he had in some wise got wind of my intentions, and was turning my disappointment over his absence into the sixth of his series of " shoves." final ly, however, my anxiety was set at rest by his appearance on a night especially adapt ed to a successful issue of the conspiracy. it was blowing great guns from the west, and the blasts of air, intermittent in their force, that came up through the flues were such that under other circumstances they would have annoyed me tremendously. al most everything in the line of the current that issued from the register and passed diagonally across the room to my fireplace, and so on up the chimney, was disturbed. the effect upon particles of paper and the fringes on my chairs was almost that of a pneumatic tube on substances placed within 93 ghosts i have met it, and on one or two occasions i was seri ously apprehensive of the manner in which the flames on the hearth leaped upward into the sooty heights of my chimney flues. but when, as happened shortly, i sud denly became conscious that my spectre cockney had materialized, all my fears for the safety of my house fled, and i surrep titiously turned off the heat, so that once he got within range of the register i could turn it on again, and his annihilation would be as instantaneous as what my newspaper friends call an electrocution. and that was precisely where i made my mistake, al though i must confess that what ensued when i got the nauseating creature within range was most delightful. " didn't expect me back, eh ?" he said, as he materialized in my library. " missed me, i suppose, eh ?" " i've missed you like the deuce !" i re plied, cordially, holding out my hand as if welcoming him back, whereat he frowned suspiciously. " now that i'm reconciled to your system, and know that there is no pos sible escape for me, i don't seem to feel so 94 and some others badly. how have you been, and what have you been doing ?" " bah !" he retorted. " what's up now ? you know mighty well you don't like me any better than you ever did. what funny little game are you trying to work on me now, eh ?" " really, 'any," i replied, " you wrong me and, by-the-way, excuse me for calling you 'arry. it is the most appropriate name i can think of at the moment." " call me what you blooming please," he answered. " but remember you can't soft-soap me into believing you like me. b-r-r-r-r!" he added, shivering. "it's beastly cold in here. what you been doing storing ice ?" " well there's a fire burning over there in the fireplace," said i, anxious to get him before the open chimneyplace; for, by a natural law, that was directly in the line of the current. he looked at me suspiciously, and then at the fireplace with equal mistrust; then he shrugged his shoulders with a mocking laugh that jarred. 95 ghosts i have met " humph !" he said. " what's your scheme ? got some patent explosive logs, full of chem icals, to destroy me ?" i laughed. " how suspicious you are !" i said. " yes i always am of suspicious charac ters," he replied, planting himself immedi ately in front of the register, desirous no doubt of acting directly contrary to my sug gestion. my opportunity had come more easily than i expected. " there isn't any heat here," said he. " it's turned off. i'll turn it on for you," said i, scarcely able to contain myself with excitement and i did. well, as i say, the spectacle was pleasing, but it did not work as i had intended. he was caught in the full current, not in any of the destroying eddyings of the side upon which i had counted to twist his legs off and wring his neck. like the soap-bubble it is true, he was blown into various odd fantastic shapes, such as crullers resolve themselves into when not properly looked after, but there was no dismembering of 96 and some others his body. he struggled hard to free him self, and such grotesque attitudes as his figure assumed i never saw even in one of aubrey beardsley's finest pictures ; and once, as his leg and right arm verged on the edge of one of the outside eddies, i hoped to see these members elongated like a piece of elastic until they snapped off; but, with a superhuman struggle, he got them free, with the loss only of one of his fingers, by which time the current had blown him across the room and directly in front of my fender. to keep from going up the chimney, he tried to brace himself against this with his feet, but missing the rail, as helpless as a feather, he floated, toes first, into the fireplace, and thence, kicking, strug gling, and swearing profanely, disappeared into the flue. it was too exciting a moment for me to laugh over my triumph, but shortly there came a nervous reaction which made me hysterical as i thought of his odd appear ance ; and then following close upon this came the dashing of my hopes. an infernal misplaced, uncalled-for back g 97 ghosts i have met gust, a diversion in which, thanks to an improper construction, my chimney fre quently indulges, blew the unhappy creat ure back into the room again, strained, sprained, panting, minus the finger he had lost, and so angry that he quivered all over. what his first words were i shall not re peat. they fairly seethed out of his turned and twisted soul, hissing like the escape valve of an ocean steamer, and his eyes, as they fell upon mine, actually burned me. "this settles it," he hissed, venomously. " i had intended letting you off with one more shove, but now, after your dastardly attempt to rend me apart with your damned hot-air furnace, i shall haunt you to your dying day; i shall haunt you so terribly that years before your final exit from this world you will pray for death. as a shover you have found me equal to everything, but since you prefer twisting, twisting be it. you shall hear from me again !" he vanished, and, i must confess it, i threw myself upon my couch, weeping hot tears of despair. 98 and some others peters's scheme had failed, and i was in a far worse position than ever. shoving i can stand, but the brief exhibition of twist ing that i had had in watching his strug gles with that awful cyclonic blast from below convinced me that there was some thing in life even more to be dreaded than the shoving he and i had been indulg ing in. but there was a postscript, and now all is well again, because but let us reserve the wherefore of the postscript for another, con cluding chapter. v postscript so hopeless was my estate now become that, dreading more than ever that which the inscrutable future held for me, i sat down and framed an advertisement, which i contemplated putting in all the newspa pers, weeklies, and monthly periodicals, of fering a handsome reward for any suggest ion which might result in ridding me of the cockney ghost. the inventive mind of man has been able to cope successfully wit^ 99 ghosts i have met rats and mice and other household pests. why, then, should there not be somewhere in the world a person of sufficient ingenuity to cope with an obnoxious spirit ? if rat dynamite and rough on june-bugs were pos sible, why was it not likely that some as yet unknown person had turned his atten tion to spectrology, and evolved something in the nature of rough on ghosts, spectre melinite, or something else of an effective nature, i asked myself. it seemed reason able to suppose that out of the millions of people in the world there were others than peters and myself who had made a study of ghosts and methods of exorcising them, and if these persons could only be reached i might yet escape. accordingly, i penned the advertisement about as follows : "xxtanted, by a young and rising author, who is pursued by a vindictive spirit, a ghost cure. a liberal reward will be paid to any wizard, recognized or unrecognized, who will, before february i, 1898, send to me a detailed state ment of a 100 and some others guaranteed method of getting rid of spooks. it is agreed that these communications shall be regarded as strictly confidential until such a time as through their medium the spirit is effectually laid, after which time the cure will be exploited free of charge in the best advertising mediums of the day. to this i appended an assumed name and a temporary address, and was about to send it out, when my friend wilkins, a mill ionaire student of electricity, living in flor ida, invited me to spend my christmas holi days with him on lake worth. " i've got a grand scheme," he wrote, " which i am going to test, and i'd like to have you present at the trial. come down, if you can, and see my new electric sail boat and all-around dynamic lone fisher man." the idea took hold of me at once. in my nervous state the change of scene would ghosts i have met do me good. besides, wilkins was a de lightful companion. so, forgetting my woes for the moment, i packed my trunk and started south for wilkins's island. it was upon this trip that the vengeful spirit put in his first twist, for at jacksonville i was awakened in the mid dle of the night by a person, whom i took to be the conductor, who told me to change cars. this i did, and falling asleep in the car to which i had changed, waked up the next morning to find myself speeding across the peninsula instead of going downward towards the keys, as i should have done, landing eventually at a small place called homosassa, on the gulf coast. of course it was not the conductor of the first train who, under cover of the darkness, had led me astray, but the pursuing spirit, as i found out when, bewildered, i sat upon the platform of the station at homosassa, wondering how the deuce i had got there. he turned up at that moment, and frankly gloated over the success of what he called shove the seventh, and twist the first. " nice place, this," said he, with a nau io2 and some others seating smirk. " so close to lake worth eh ? only two days' ride on the choo-choo, if you make connections, and when chang ing take the right trains." i pretended not to see him, and began to whistle the intermezzo from " cavalleria rusticana," to show how little i cared. " good plan, old chap," said he ; " but it won't work. i know you are put out, in spite of the tunefulness of your soul. but wait for my second twist. you'll wish you'd struck a cyclone instead when that turn comes." it was, as he suggested, at least two days before i was able to get to wilkins at lake worth; but after i got there the sense of annoyance and the deep dejection into which i was plunged wore away, as well it might, for the test which i was invited to witness was most interesting. the dynamic lone fisherman was wonderful enough, but the electric sail -boat was a marvel. the former was very simple. it consisted of a reel operated by electricity, which, the mo ment a blue-fish struck the skid at the end of the line, reeled the fish in, and flopped it into a basket as easily and as surely as 103 ghosts i have met you please ; but the principle of the sail boat was new. " i don't need a breeze to sail anywhere," said wilkins, as he hauled up the mainsail, which flapped idly in the still air. " for you see," he added, touching a button along side of the tiller, " this button sets that big electric fan in the stern revolving, and the result is an artificial breeze which distends the sail, and there you are." it was even as he said. a huge fan with a dozen flanges in the stern began to revolve with wonderful rapidity; in an instant the sails bellied out, and the horace j., as his boat was named, was speeding through the waters before the breeze thus created in record-breaking fashion. "by jove, billie," i said, " this is a dandy !" "isn't it!" cried an old familiar voice at my elbow. i turned as if stung. the spirit was with me again, prepared, i doubted not, for his second twist. i sprang from my seat, a sud den inspiration flashing upon me, jumped back of the revolving fan, and turning the 104 and some others full force of the wind it created upon my vin dictive visitant, blew him fairly and squarely into the bulging sail. " there, blast your cockney eyes !" i cried ; " take that." he tried to retort, but without avail. the wind that emanated from the fan fairly rammed his words back into his throat every time he opened his mouth to speak, and there he lay, flat against the canvas, fluttering like a leaf, powerless to escape. " hot air doesn't affect you much, you transparent jackass !" i roared. " let me see how a stiff nor'easter suits your style of beauty." i will not bore the reader with any further details of the lake worth experience. suf fice it to say that for five hours i kept the miserable thing a pneumatic prisoner in the concave surface of the sail. try as he would, he could not escape, and finally, when wilkins and i went ashore for the night, and the cockney ghost was released, he vanished, using unutterable language, and an idea came to me, putting which into 105 ghosts i have met operation, i at last secured immunity from his persecutions. returning to new york three days later, i leased a small office in a fire-proof power building not far from madison square, fitted it up as if for my own use, and had placed in the concealment of a closet at its east erly end the largest electric fan i could get. it was ten feet in diameter, and was pro vided with sixteen flanges. when it was in motion not a thing could withstand the blast that came from it. tables, chairs, even a cut-glass inkstand weighing two pounds, were blown with a crash against the solid stone and iron construction back of the plaster of my walls. and then i awaited his coming. suffice it to say that he came, sat down calmly and unsuspecting in the chair i had had made for his especial benefit, and then the moment he began to revile me i turned on the power, the fan began to revolve, the devastating wind rushed down upon him with a roar, pinned him to the wall like a butterfly on a cork, and he was at last my prisoner and he is my prisoner still. for 106 and some others three weeks has that wheel been revolving night and day, and despite all his cunning he cannot creep beyond its blustering in fluence, nor shall he ever creep therefrom while i have six hundred dollars per annum to pay for the rent and cost of power neces sary to keep the fan going. every once in a while i return and gloat over him ; and i can tell by the movement of his lips that he is trying to curse me, but he cannot, for, even as wilkins's fan blew his words of remonstrance back into his throat, so does my wheel, twice as powerful, keep his torrent of invective from greeting my ear. i should be happy to prove the truth of all this by showing any curious -minded reader the spectacle which gives me so much joy, but i fear to do so lest the own ers of the building, discovering the uses to which their office has been put, shall require me to vacate the premises. of course he may ultimately escape, through some failure of the machine to operate, but it is guaranteed to run five years without a break, so for that period 107 ghosts i have met at least i am safe, and by that time it may be that he will be satisfied to call things square. i shall be satisfied if he is. meanwhile, i devote my successful plan to the uses of all who may be troubled as i was, finding in their assumed gratitude a sufficient compensation for my ingenuity. thurlow's christmas story (being the statement of henry thurlow, author, to george currier, editor of the " idler" a weekly journal of human interest^) i have always maintained, my dear cur rier, that if a man wishes to be considered sane, and has any particular regard for his reputation as a truth-teller, he would better keep silent as to the singular experiences that enter into his life. i have had many such experiences myself ; but i have rarely confided them in detail, or otherwise, to those about me, because i know that even the most trustful of my friends would re gard them merely as the outcome of an im agination unrestrained by conscience, or of a gradually weakening mind subject to 109 ghosts i have met hallucinations. i know them to be true, but until mr. edison or some other modern wizard has invented a search -light strong enough to lay bare the secrets of the mind and conscience of man, i cannot prove to others that they are not pure fabrications, or at least the conjurings of a diseased fancy. for instance, no man would be lieve me if i were to state to him the plain and indisputable fact that one night last month, on my way up to bed shortly after midnight, having been neither smoking nor drinking, i saw confronting me upon the stairs, with the moonlight streaming through the windows back of me, lighting up its face, a figure in which i recognized my very self in every form and feature. i might describe the chill of terror that struck to the very marrow of my bones, and wellnigh forced me to stagger backward down the stairs, as i noticed in the face of this con fronting figure every indication of all the bad qualities which i know myself to pos sess, of every evil instinct which by no easy effort i have repressed heretofore, and real ized that that thing was, as far as i knew, no and some others entirely independent of my true self, in which i hope at least the moral has made an honest fight against the immoral always. i might describe this chill, i say, as vividly as i felt it at that moment, but it would be of no use to do so, because, however real istic it might prove as a bit of description, no man would believe that the incident really happened ; and yet it did happen as truly as i write, and it has happened a dozen times since, and i am certain that it will happen many times again, though i would give all that i possess to be assured that never again should that disquieting crea tion of mind or matter, whichever it may be, cross my path. the experience has made me afraid almost to be alone, and i have found myself unconsciously and un easily glancing at my face in mirrors, in the plate -glass of show-windows on the shopping streets of the city, fearful lest i should find some of those evil traits which i have struggled to keep under, and have kept under so far, cropping out there where all the world, all my world, can see and wonder at, having known me always as a ghosts i have met man of right doing and right feeling. many a time in the night the thought has come to me with prostrating force, what if that thing were to be seen and recognized by others, myself and yet not my whole self, my unworthy self unrestrained and yet rec ognizable as henry thurlow. i have also kept silent as to that strange condition of affairs which has tortured me in my sleep for the past year and a half ; no one but myself has until this writing known that for that period of time i have had a continuous, logical dream-life ; a life so vivid and so dreadfully real to me that i have found myself at times wondering which of the two lives i was living and which i was dreaming ; a life in which that other wicked self has dominated, and forced me to a career of shame and horror ; a life which, being taken up every time i sleep where it ceased with the awakening from a previous sleep, has made me fear to close my eyes in forgetfulness when others are near at hand, lest, sleeping, i shall let fall some speech that, striking on their ears, shall lead them to believe that in secret and some others there is some wicked mystery connected with my life. it would be of no use for me to tell these things. it would merely serve to make my family and my friends uneasy about me if they were told in their awful detail, and so i have kept silent about them. to you alone, and now for the first time, have i hinted as to the troubles which have oppressed me for many days, and to you they are confided only because of the de mand you have made that i explain to you the extraordinary complication in which the christmas story sent you last week has in volved me. you know that i am a man of dignity ; that i am not a school-boy and a lover of childish tricks ; and knowing that, your friendship, at least, should have re strained your tongue and pen when, through the former, on wednesday, you accused me of perpetrating a trifling, and to you exces sively embarrassing, practical joke a charge which, at the moment, i was too overcome to refute ; and through the latter, on thurs day, you reiterated the accusation, coupled with a demand for an explanation of my conduct satisfactory to yourself, or my im h 113 ghosts i have met mediate resignation from the staff of the idler. to explain is difficult, for i am cer tain that you will find the explanation too improbable for credence, but explain i must. the alternative, that of resigning from your staff, affects not only my own welfare, but that of my children, who must be provided for ; and if my post with you is taken from me, then are all resources gone. i have not the courage to face dismissal, for i have not sufficient confidence in my powers to please elsewhere to make me easy in my mind, or, if i could please elsewhere, the certainty of finding the immediate employ ment of my talents which is necessary to me, in view of the at present overcrowded condition of the literary field. to explain, then, my seeming jest at your expense, hopeless as it appears to be, is my task; and to do so as completely as i can, let me go back to the very beginning. in august you informed me that you would expect me to provide, as i have here tofore been in the habit of doing, a story for the christmas issue of the idler ; that a certain position in the make-up was re 114 and some others served for me, and that you had already taken steps to advertise the fact that the story would appear. i undertook the com mission, and upon seven different occasions set about putting the narrative into shape. i found great difficulty, however, in doing so. for some reason or other i could not concentrate my mind upon the work. no sooner would i start in on one story than a better one, in my estimation, would sug gest itself to me ; and all the labor expend ed on the story already begun would be cast aside, and the new story set in motion. ideas were plenty enough, but to put them properly upon paper seemed beyond my powers. one story, however, i did finish ; but after it had come back to me from my typewriter i read it, and was filled with consternation to discover that it was noth ing more nor less than a mass of jumbled sentences, conveying no idea to the mind a story which had seemed to me in the writ ing to be coherent had returned to me as a mere bit of incoherence formless, without ideas a bit of raving. it was then that i went to you and told you, as you remember, "5 ghosts i have met that i was worn out, and needed a month of absolute rest, which you granted. i left my work wholly, and went into the wilder ness, where i could be entirely free from everything suggesting labor, and where no summons back to town could reach me. i fished and hunted. i slept ; and although, as i have already said, in my sleep i found myself leading a life that was not only not to my taste, but horrible to me in many par ticulars, i was able at the end of my vaca tion to come back to town greatly refreshed, and, as far as my feelings went, ready to undertake any amount of work. for two or three days after my return i was busy with other things. on the fourth day after my arrival you came to me, and said that the story must be finished at the very latest by october i5th, and i assured you that you should have it by that time. that night i set about it. i mapped it out, incident by incident, and before starting up to bed had actually written some twelve or fifteen hundred words of the opening chapter it was to be told in four chapters. when i had gone thus far i experienced a slight 116 ' ' face to face ' and some others return of one of my nervous chills, and, on consulting my watch, discovered that it was after midnight, which was a sufficient ex planation of my nervousness : i was merely tired. i arranged my manuscripts on my table so that i might easily take up the work the following morning. i locked up the windows and doors, turned out the lights, and proceeded up-stairs to my room. // was then that i first came face to face with myself that other self, in which i rec ognized, developed to the full, every bit of my capacity for an evil life. conceive of the situation if you can. imagine the horror of it, and then ask your self if it was likely that when next morning came i could by any possibility bring my self to my work-table in fit condition to pre pare for you anything at all worthy of pub lication in the idler. i tried. i implore you to believe that i did not hold lightly the responsibilities of the commission you had intrusted to my hands. you must know that if any of your writers has a full appre ciation of the difficulties which are strewn along the path of an editor, i, who have 117 ghosts i have met myself had an editorial experience, have it, and so would not, in the nature of things, do anything to add to your troubles. you cannot but believe that i have made an honest effort to fulfil my promise to you. but it was useless, and for a week after that visitation was it useless for me to attempt the work. at the end of the week i felt better, and again i started in, and the story developed satisfactorily until /vcame again. that figure which was my own figure, that face which was the evil counterpart of my own countenance, again rose up before me, and once more was i plunged into hope lessness. thus matters went on until the i4th day of october, when i received your peremp tory message that the story must be forth coming the following day. needless to tell you that it was not forthcoming ; but what i must tell you, since you do not know it, is that on the evening of the i5th day of october a strange thing happened to me, and in the narration of that incident, which i almost despair of your believing, lies my explanation of the discovery of october ns and some others 1 6th, which has placed my position with you in peril. at half-past seven o'clock on the evening of october i5th i was sitting in my library trying to write. i was alone. my wife and children had gone away on a visit to mas sachusetts for a week. i had just finished my cigar, and had taken my pen in hand, when my front-door bell rang. our maid, who is usually prompt in answering sum monses of this nature, apparently did not hear the bell, for she did not respond to its clanging. again the bell rang, and still did it remain unanswered, until finally, at the third ringing, i went to the door myself. on opening it i saw standing before me a man of, i should say, fifty odd years of age, tall, slender, pale-faced, and clad in sombre black. he was entirely unknown to me. i had never seen him before, but he had about him such an air of pleasantness and vvholesomeness that i instinctively felt glad to see him, without knowing why or whence he had come. " does mr. thurlow live here ?" he asked. you must excuse me for going into what 119 ghosts i have met may seem to you to be petty details, but by a perfectly circumstantial account of all that happened that evening alone can i hope to give a semblance of truth to my story, and that it must be truthful i realize as painfully as you do. " i am mr. thurlow," i replied. " henry thurlow, the author ?" he said, with a surprised look upon his face. " yes," said i ; and then, -impelled by the strange appearance of surprise on the man's countenance, i added, " don't i look like an author ?" he laughed, and candidly admitted that i was not the kind of looking man he had expected to find from reading my books, and then he entered the house in response to my invitation that he do so. i ushered him into my library, and, after asking him to be seated, inquired as to his business with me. his answer was gratifying at least he replied that he had been a reader of my writings for a number of years, and that for some time past he had had a great desire, not to say curiosity, to meet me and tell 120 and some others me how much he had enjoyed certain of my stories. " i'm a great devourer of books, mr. thurlow," he said, " and i have taken the keenest delight in reading your verses and humorous sketches. i may go further, and say to you that you have helped me over many a hard place in my life by your work. at times when i have felt myself worn out with my business, or face to face with some knotty problem in my career, i have found much relief in picking up and reading your books at random. they have helped me to forget my weariness or my knotty problems for the time being ; and to-day, finding my self in this town, i resolved to call upon you this evening and thank you for all that you have done for me." thereupon we became involved in a gen eral discussion of literary men and their works, and i found that my visitor certain ly did have a pretty thorough knowledge of what has been produced by the writers of to-day. i was quite won over to him by his simplicity, as well as attracted to him by his kindly opinion of my own efforts, and i did ghosts i have met my best to entertain him, showing him a few of my little literary treasures in the way of autograph letters, photographs, and pres entation copies of well-known books from the authors themselves. from this we drift ed naturally and easily into a talk on the methods of work adopted by literary men. he asked me many questions as to my own methods; and when i had in a measure outlined to him the manner of life which i had adopted, telling him of my days at home, how little detail office -work i had, he seemed much interested with the pict ure indeed, i painted the picture of my daily routine in almost too perfect colors, for, when i had finished, he observed quiet ly that i appeared to him to lead the ideal life, and added that he supposed i knew very little unhappiness. the remark recalled to me the dreadful reality, that through some perversity of fate i was doomed to visitations of an uncanny order which were practically destroying my usefulness in my profession and my sole financial resource. " well," i replied, as my mind reverted 122 and some others to the unpleasant predicament in which i found myself, " i can't say that i know little unhappiness. as a matter of fact, i know a great deal of that undesirable thing. at the present moment i am very much embarrassed through my absolute inability to fulfil a contract into which i have entered, and which should have been filled this morning. i was due to-day with a christ inas story. the presses are waiting for it, and i am utterly unable to write it." he appeared deeply concerned at the confession. i had hoped, indeed, that he might be sufficiently concerned to take his departure, that i might make one more ef fort to write the promised story. his so licitude, however, showed itself in another way. instead of leaving me, he ventured the hope that he might aid me. " what kind of a story is it to be ?" he asked. " oh, the usual ghostly tale," i said, "with a dash of the christmas flavor thrown in here and there to make it suitable to the season." " ah," he observed. " and you find your vein worked out ?" 123 ghosts i have met it was a direct and perhaps an imperti nent question ; but i thought it best to answer it, and to answer it as well without giving him any clew as to the real facts. i could not very well take an entire stranger into my confidence, and describe to him the extraordinary encounters i was having with an uncanny other self. he would not have believed the truth, hence i told him an untruth, and assented to his proposition. " yes," i replied, " the vein is worked out. i have written ghost stories for years now, serious and comic, and i am to-day at the end of my tether compelled to move forward and yet held back." " that accounts for it," he said, simply. " when i first saw you to-night at the door i could not believe that the author who had provided me with so much merriment could be so pale and worn and seemingly mirth less. pardon me, mr. thurlow, for my lack of consideration when i told you that you did not appear as i had expected to find you." i smiled my forgiveness, and he contin ued: 124 and some others " it may be," he said, with a show of hesitation " it may be that i have come not altogether inopportunely. perhaps i can help you." i smiled again. " i should be most grate ful if you could," i said. " but you doubt my ability to do so ?" he put in. "oh well yes of course you do ; and why shouldn't you ? never theless, i have noticed this : at times when i have been baffled in my work a mere hint from another, from one who knew nothing of my work, has carried me on to a solution of my problem. i have read most of your writings, and i have thought over some of them many a time, and i have even had ideas for stories, which, in my own conceit, i have imagined were good enough for you, and i have wished that i possessed your facility with the pen that i might make of them myself what i thought you would make of them had they been ideas of your own." the old gentleman's pallid face reddened as he said this, and while i was hopeless as to anything of value resulting from his ideas, 125 ghosts i have met i could not resist the temptation to hear what he had to say further, his manner was so deliriously simple, and his desire to aid me so manifest. he rattled on with sug gestions for a half -hour. some of them were good, but none were new. some were irresistibly funny, and did me good because they made me laugh, and i hadn't laughed naturally for a period so long that it made me shudder to think of it, fearing lest i should forget how to be mirthful. finally i grew tired of his persistence, and, with a very ill concealed impatience, told him plainly that i could do nothing with his suggestions, thanking him, however, for the spirit of kindliness which had prompted him to offer them. he appeared somewhat hurt, but immediately desisted, and when nine o'clock came he rose up to go. as he walked to the door he seemed to be under going some mental struggle, to which, with a sudden resolve, he finally succumbed, for, after having picked up his hat and stick and donned his overcoat, he turned to me and said : "mr. thurlow, i don't want to offend 126 he rattled on for half an hour and some others you. on the contrary, it is my dearest wish to assist you. you have helped me, as i have told you. why may i not help you ?" " i assure you, sir " i began, when he interrupted me. "one moment, please," he said, putting his hand into the inside pocket of his black coat and extracting from it an envelope addressed to me. "let me finish: it is the whim of one who has an affection for you. for ten years i have secretly been at work myself on a story. it is a short one, but it has seemed good to me. i had a double object in seeking you out to-night. i wanted not only to see you, but to read my story to you. no one knows that i have written it ; i had intended it as a surprise to my to my friends. i had hoped to have it pub lished somewhere, and i had come here to seek your advice in the matter. it is a story which i have written and rewritten and rewritten time and time again in my leisure moments during the ten years past, as i have told you. it is not likely that i shall ever write another. i am proud of 127 ghosts i have met having done it, but i should be prouder yet if it if it could in some way help you. i leave it with you, sir, to print or to destroy ; and if you print it, to see it in type will be enough for me ; to see your name signed to it will be a matter of pride to me. no one will ever be the wiser, for, as i say, no one knows i have written it, and i promise you that no one shall know of it if you decide to do as i not only suggest but ask you to do. no one would believe me after it has appeared as yours, even if i should forget my promise and claim it as my own. take it. it is yours. you are entitled to it as a slight measure of repayment for the debt of gratitude i owe you." he pressed the manuscript into my hands, and before i could reply had opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of the street. i rushed to the sidewalk and shouted out to him to return, but i might as well have saved my breath and. spared the neighborhood, for there was no answer. holding his story in my hand, i re-entered the house and walked back into my library, where, sitting and reflecting upon the cu 128 the demon vanished " and some others rious interview, i realized for the first time that i was in entire ignorance as to my vis itor's name and address. i opened the envelope hoping to find them, but they were not there. the en velope contained merely a finely written manuscript of thirty odd pages, unsigned. and then i read the story. when i be gan it was with a half-smile upon my lips, and with a feeling that i was wasting my time. the smile soon faded, however ; after reading the first paragraph there was no question of wasted time. the story was a masterpiece. it is needless to say to you that i am not a man of enthusiasms. it is difficult to arouse that emotion in my breast, but upon this occasion i yielded to a force too great for me to resist. i have read the tales of hoffmann and of poe, the wondrous romances of de la motte fouque, the unfortunately little-known tales of the lamented fitzjames o'brien, the weird tales of writers of all tongues have been thoroughly sifted by me in the course of my reading, and i say to you now that in the whole of my life i never read one story, i 129 ghosts i have met one paragraph, one line, that could ap proach in vivid delineation, in weirdness of conception, in anything, in any quality which goes to make up the truly great story, that story which came into my hands as i have told you. i read it once and was amazed. i read it a second time and was tempted. it was mine. the writer himself had au thorized me to treat it as if it were my own ; had voluntarily sacrificed his own claim to its authorship that he might relieve me of my very pressing embarrassment. not only this ; he had almost intimated that in put ting my name to his work i should be doing him a favor. why not do so, then, i asked myself ; and immediately my better self re jected the idea as impossible. how could i put out as my own another man's work and retain my self-respect ? i resolved on another and better course to send you the story in lieu of my own with a full state ment of the circumstances under which it had come into my possession, when that demon rose up out of the floor at my side, this time more evil of aspect than before, more commanding in its manner. with a 130 and some others groan i shrank back into the cushions of my chair, and by passing my hands over my eyes tried to obliterate forever the offend ing sight ; but it was useless. the uncanny thing approached me, and as truly as i write sat upon the edge of my couch, where for the first time it addressed me. " fool !" it said, " how can you hesitate ? here is your position : you have made a contract which must be filled ; you are al ready behind, and in a hopeless mental state. even granting that between this and to-morrow morning you could put together the necessary number of words to fill the space allotted to you, what kind of a thing do you think that story would make ? it would be a mere raving like that other pre cious effort of august. the public, if by some odd chance it ever reached them, would think your mind was utterly gone ; your reputation would go with that verdict. on the other hand, if you do not have the story ready by to-morrow, your hold on the idler will be destroyed. they have their announcements printed, and your name and portrait appear among those of the promi ghosts i have met nent contributors. do you suppose the editor and publisher will look leniently upon your failure ?" " considering ray past record, yes," i replied. " i have never yet broken a prom ise to them." " which is precisely the reason why they will be severe with you. you, who have been regarded as one of the few men who can do almost any kind of literary work at will you, of whom it is said that your ' brains are on tap ' will they be lenient with you ? bah ! can't you see that the very fact of your invariable readiness here tofore is going to make your present un readiness a thing incomprehensible ?" " then what shall i do ?" i asked. " if i can't, i can't, that is all." "you can. there is the story in your hands. think what it will do for you. it is one of the immortal stories " " you have read it, then ?" i asked. " haven't you ?" " yes but-" " it is the same," it said, with a leer and a contemptuous shrug. "you and i are 132 and some others inseparable. aren't you glad ?" it added, with a laugh that grated on every fibre of my being. i was too overwhelmed to reply, and it resumed : " it is one of the immortal stories. we agree to that. published over your name, your name will live. the stuff you write yourself will give you present glory ; but when you have been dead ten years people won't remember your name even unless i get control of you, and in that case there is a very pretty though hardly a literary record in store for you." again it laughed harshly, and i buried my face in the pillows of my couch, hoping to find relief there from this dreadful vision. " curious," it said. " what you call your decent self doesn't dare look me in the eye ! what a mistake people make who say that the man who won't look you in the eye is not to be trusted ! as if mere brazenness were a sign of honesty ; really, the theory of decency is the most amusing thing in the world. but come, time is growing short. take that story. the writer gave it to you. begged you to use it as your own. it is yours. it will make your reputation, and ghosts i have met save you with your publishers. how can you hesitate ?" " i shall not use it !" i cried, desper ately. "you must consider your children. suppose you lose your connection with these publishers of yours ?" " but it would be a crime." " not a bit of it. whom do you rob ? a man who voluntarily came to you, and gave you that of which you rob him. think of it as it is and act, only act quickly. it is now midnight." the tempter rose up and walked to the other end of the room, whence, while he pretended to be looking over a few of my books and pictures, i was aware he was eying me closely, and gradually compel ling me by sheer force of will to do a thing which i abhorred. and i i struggled weakly against the temptation, but grad ually, little by little, i yielded, and finally succumbed altogether. springing to my feet, i rushed to the table, seized my pen, and signed my name to the story. " there !" i said. " it is done. i have 134 "' doesn't .dare look me in the eye!'" and some others saved my position and made my reputation, and am now a thief !" " as well as a fool," said the other, calm ly. " you don't mean to say you are going to send that manuscript in as it is ?" "good lord!" i cried. "what under heaven have you been trying to make me do for the last half hour ?" " act like a sane being," said the demon. " if you send that manuscript to currier he'll know in a minute it isn't yours. he knows you haven't an amanuensis, and that handwriting isn't yours. copy it." " true !" i answered. " i haven't much of a mind for details to-night. i will do as you say." i did so. i got out my pad and pen and ink, and for three hours diligently applied myself to the task of copying the story. when it was finished i went over it care fully, made a few minor corrections, signed it, put it in an envelope, addressed it to you, stamped it, and went out to the mail-box on the corner, where i dropped it into the slot, and returned home. when i had return ed to my library my visitor was still there. ghosts i have met " well," it said, " i wish you'd hurry and complete this affair. i am tired, and wish to go." " you can't go too soon to please me," said i, gathering up the original manuscripts of the story and preparing to put them away in my desk. "probably not," it sneered. "i'll be glad to go too, but i can't go until that manuscript is destroyed. as long as it exists there is evidence of your having ap propriated the work of another. why, can't you see that ? burn it !" " i can't see my way clear in crime !" i retorted. " it is not in my line." nevertheless, realizing the value of his advice, i thrust the pages one by one into the blazing log fire, and watched them as they flared and flamed and grew to ashes. as the last page disappeared in the embers the demon vanished. i was alone, and throwing myself down for a moment's reflec tion upon my couch, was soon lost in sleep. it was noon when i again opened my eyes, and, ten minutes after i awakened, your telegraphic summons reached me. 136 and some others " come down at once," was what you said, and i went ; and then came the ter rible denouement, and yet a denouement which was pleasing to me since it relieved my con science. you handed me the envelope con taining the story. " did you send that ?" was your ques tion. " i did last night, or rather early this morning. i mailed it about three o'clock," i replied. " i demand an explanation of your con duct," said you. " of what ?" i asked. " look at your so-called story and see. if this is a practical joke, thurlow, it's a damned poor one." i opened the envelope and took from it the sheets i had sent you twenty-four of them. they were every one of them as blank as when they left the paper-mill ! you know the rest. you know that i tried to speak ; that my utterance failed me ; and that, finding myself unable at the time to control my emotions, i turned and i37 ghosts i have met rushed madly from the office, leaving the mystery unexplained. you know that you wrote demanding a satisfactory explanation of the situation or my resignation from your staff. this, currier, is my explanation. it is all i have. it is absolute truth. i beg you to believe it, for if you do not, then is my condition a hopeless one. you will ask me perhaps for a resume of the story which i thought i had sent you. it is my crowning misfortune that upon that point my mind is an absolute blank. i cannot remember it in form or in sub stance. i have racked my brains for some recollection of some small portion of it to help to make my explanation more credible, but, alas ! it will not come back to me. if i were dishonest i might fake up a story to suit the purpose, but i am not dishonest, i came near to doing an unworthy act ; i did do an unworthy thing, but by some mysterious provision of fate my conscience is cleared of that. be sympathetic. currier, or, if you cannot, be lenient with me this time. believe, be 138 "'look at your so-called story and see' and some others zieve, believe, i implore you. pray let me hear from you at once. (signed) henry thurlow. ii (being a note from george cttrrier, editor of the " idler? to henry thurlow, author^) your explanation has come to hand. as an explanation it isn't worth the paper it is written on, but we are all agreed here that it is probably the best bit of fiction you ever wrote. it is accepted for the christmas issue. enclosed please find check for one hundred dollars. dawson suggests that you take another month up in the adirondacks. you might put in your time writing up some account of that dream-life you are leading while you are there. it seems to me there are possi bilities in the idea. the concern will pay all expenses. what do you say ? (signed) yours ever, g. c. the dampmere mystery dawson wished to be alone ; he had a tremendous bit of writing to do, which could not be done in new york, where his friends were constantly interrupting him, and that is why he had taken the little cottage at dampmere for the early spring months. the cottage just suited him. it was re mote from the village of dampmere, and the rental was suspiciously reasonable ; he could have had a ninety-nine years' lease of it for nothing, had he chosen to ask for it, and would promise to keep the premises in repair ; but he was not aware of that fact when he made his arrangements with the agent. indeed, there was a great deal that dawson was not aware of when he took the place. if there hadn't been he never would have thought of going there, and this story would not have been written. 140 ghosts i have met it was late in march when, with his chinese servant and his mastiff, he en tered into possession and began the writ ing of the story he had in mind. it was to be the effort of his life. people reading it would forget thackeray and everybody else, and would, furthermore, never wish to see another book. it was to be the literature of all time past and present and future ; in it all previous work was to be forgotten, all future work was to be ren dered unnecessary. for three weeks everything went smoothly enough, and the work upon the great story progressed to the author's satisfaction ; but as easter approached something queer seemed to develop in the dampmere cot tage. it was undefinable, intangible, in visible, but it was there. dawson's hair would not stay down. when he rose up in the morning he would find every single hair on his head standing erect, and plaster it as he would with his brushes dipped in water, it could not be induced to lie down again. more inconvenient than this, his silken mustache was affected in the same 141 ghosts i have met way, so that instead of drooping in a soft fascinating curl over his lip, it also rose up like a row of bayonets and lay flat against either side of his nose ; and with this sin gular hirsute affliction there came into daw son's heart a feeling of apprehension over something, he knew not what, that speed ily developed into an uncontrollable terror that pervaded his whole being, and more thoroughly destroyed his ability to work upon his immortal story than ten inconsid erate new york friends dropping in on him in his busy hours could possibly have done. " what the dickens is the matter with me ?" he said to himself, as for the sixteenth time he brushed his rebellious locks. " what has come over my hair ? and what under the sun am i afraid of ? the idea of a man of my size looking under the bed every night for for something burglar, spook, or what i don't know. waking at mid night shivering with fear, walking in the broad light of day filled with terror ; by jove ! i almost wish i was chung lee down in the kitchen, who goes about his business undisturbed." 142 : it was to be the effort of his life' and some others having said this, dawson looked about him nervously. if he had expected a dag ger to be plunged into his back by an un seen foe he could not have looked around more anxiously ; and then he fled, actually fled in terror into the kitchen, where chung lee was preparing his dinner. chung was only a chinaman, but he was a living creat ure, and dawson was afraid to be alone. " well, chung," he said, as affably as he could, " this is a pleasant change from new york, eh ?" " plutty good," replied chung, with a va cant stare at the pantry door. " me likes noo lork allee same. dampeemere kind of flunny, mister dawson." " funny, chung ?" queried dawson, ob serving for the first time that the china man's queue stood up as straight as a gar den stake, and almost scraped the ceiling as its owner moved about. " funny ?" " yeppee, flunny," returned chung, with a shiver. " me no likee. me flightened." " oh, come !" said dawson, with an af fected lightness. " what are you afraid of?" i43 ghosts i have met " slumting," said chung. " do' know what. go to bled ; no sleepee ; pigtail no stay down ; heart go thump allee night." " by jove !" thought dawson ; " he's got it too !" " evlyting flunny here," resumed chung. " jack he no likee too." jack was the mastiff. " what's the matter with jack ?" queried dawson. " you don't mean to say jack's afraid ?" "do' know if he 'flaid," said chung. " he growl most time." clearly there was no comfort for dawson here. to rid him of his fears it was evi dent that chung could be of no assistance, and chung's feeling that even jack was af fected by the uncanny something was by no means reassuring. dawson went out into the yard and whistled for the dog, and in a moment the magnificent animal came bound ing up. dawson patted him on the back, but jack, instead of rejoicing as was his wont over this token of his master's affec tion, gave a yelp of pain, which was quite in accord with dawson's own feelings, for 144 and some others gentle though the pat was, his hand after it felt as though he had pressed it upon a bunch of needles. "what's the matter, old fellow?" said dawson, ruefully rubbing the palm of his hand. " did i hurt you ?" the dog tried to wag his tail, but un availingly, and dawson was again filled with consternation to observe that even as chung's queue stood high, even as his own hair would not lie down, so it was with jack's soft furry skin. every hair on it was erect, from the tip of the poor beast's nose to the end of his tail, and so stiff withal that when it was pressed from with out it pricked the dog within. " there seems to be some starch in the air of dampmere," said dawson, thought fully, as he turned and walked slowly into the house. " i wonder what the deuce it all means ?" and then he sought his desk and tried to write, but he soon found that he could not possibly concentrate his mind upon his work. he was continually oppressed by the feel ing that he was not alone. at one moment k 145 ghosts i have met it seemed as if there were a pair of eyes peering at him from the northeast corner of the room, but as soon as he turned his own anxious gaze in that direction the dif ficulty seemed to lie in the southwest corner. " bah !" he cried, starting up and stamp ing his foot angrily upon the floor. " the idea ! i, charles dawson, a man of the world, scared by by well, by nothing. i don't believe in ghosts and yet at times i do believe that this house is haunted. my hair seems to feel the same way. it stands up like stubble in a wheat-field, and one might as well try to brush the one as the other. at this rate nothing '11 get done. i'll go to town and see dr. bronson. there's something the matter with me." so off dawson went to town. " i suppose bronson will think i'm a fool, but i can prove all i say by my hair," he said, as he rang the doctor's bell. he was instantly admitted, and shortly after de scribing his symptoms he called the doc tor's attention to his hair. if he had pinned his faith to this, he 146 "when he rose up in the morning he would find every single hair on his head standing erect " and some others showed that his faith was misplaced, for when the doctor came to examine it, daw son's hair was lying down as softly as it ever had. the doctor looked at dawson for a moment, and then, with a dry cough r he said : " dawson, i can conclude one of two things from what you tell me. either dampmere is haunted, which you and i as sane men can't believe in these days, or else you are playing a practical joke on me. now i don't mind a practical joke at the club, my dear fellow, but here, in my office hours,. i can't afford the time to like anything of the sort. i speak frankly with you, old fellow. i have to. i hate to do it, but, after all, you've brought it on your self." " doctor," dawson rejoined, " i believe i'm a sick man, else this thing wouldn't have happened. i solemnly assure you that i've come to you because i wanted a prescription, and because i believe my self badly off." "you carry it off well, dawson," said the doctor, severely, " but i'll prescribe. m7 ghosts i have met go back to dampmere right away, and when you've seen the ghost, telegraph me and i'll come down." with this bronson bowed dawson out, and the latter, poor fellow, soon found him self on the street utterly disconsolate. he could not blame bronson. he could un derstand how bronson could come to be lieve that, with his hair as the only witness to his woes, and a witness that failed him at the crucial moment, bronson should re gard his visit as the outcome of some club wager, in many of which he had been in volved previously. " i guess his advice is good," said he, as he walked along. " i'll go back right away but meanwhile i'll get billie perkins to come out and spend the night with me, and we'll try it on him. i'll ask him out for a few days." suffice it to say that perkins accepted, and that night found the two eating supper together outwardly serene. perkins was quite interested when chung brought in the supper. " wears his queue pompadour, i see," he 148 wears his queue pompadour, i see ' and some others said, as he glanced at chung's extraordi nary head-dress. " yes," said dawson, shortly. "you wear your hair that way yourself," he added, for he was pleased as well as as tonished to note that perkins's hair was manifesting an upward tendency. " nonsense," said perkins. " it's flat as a comic paper." " look at yourself in the glass," said dawson. perkins obeyed. there was no doubt about it. his hair was rising! he started back uneasily. " dawson," he cried, " what is it ? i've felt queer ever since i entered your front door, and i assure you i've been wonder ing why you wore your mustache like a pi rate all the evening." " i can't account for it. i've got the creeps myself," said dawson, and then he told perkins all that i have told you. " let's let's go back to new york," said perkins. " can't," replied dawson. " no train." 149 ghosts i have met " then," said perkins, with a shiver, 41 let's go to bed." the two men retired, dawson to the room directly over the parlor, perkins to the apart ment back of it. for company they left the gas burning, and in a short time were fast asleep. an hour later dawson awakened with a start. two things oppressed him to the very core of his being. first, the gas was out; and second, perkins had un mistakably groaned. he leaped from his bed and hastened into the next room. " perkins," he cried, " are you ill ?" " is that you, dawson ?" came a voice from the darkness. " yes. did did you put out the gas ?" " no." " are you ill ?" " no ; but i'm deuced uncomfortable what's this mattress stuffed with needles?" " needles ? no. it's a hair mattress. isn't it all right?" " not by a great deal. i feel as if i had been sleeping on a porcupine. light up the gas and let's see what the trouble is." 150 and some others dawson did as he was told, wondering meanwhile why the gas had gone out. no one had turned it out, and yet the key was unmistakably turned ; and, what was worse, on ripping open perkins's mattress, a most disquieting state of affairs was disclosed. every single hair in it was standing on end 7 a half-hour later four figures were to be seen wending their way northward through the darkness two men, a huge mastiff, and a chinaman. the group was made up of dawson, his guest, his servant, and his dog. dampmere was impossible ; there was no train until morning, but not one of them was willing to remain a moment longer at dampmere, and so they had to walk. " what do you suppose it was ?" asked perkins, as they left the third mile behind them. " i don't know," said dawson ; " but it must be something terrible. i don't mind a ghost that will make the hair of living beings stand on end, but a nameless in visible something that affects a mattress that way has a terrible potency that i have 151 ghosts i have met no desire to combat. it's a mystery, and, as a rule, i like mysteries, but the mystery of dampmere i'd rather let alone." " don't say a word about the ah the mattress, charlie," said perkins, after awhile. " the fellows '11 never believe it." " no. i was thinking that very same thing," said dawson. and they were both true to dawson's re solve, which is possibly why the mystery of dampmere has never been solved. if any of my readers can furnish a solu tion, i wish they would do so, for i am very much interested in the case, and i truly hate to leave a story of this kind in so unsatis factory a condition. a ghost story without any solution strikes me as being about as useful as a house with out a roof. carleton barker, first and second my first meeting with carleton barker was a singular one. a friend and i, in august, 18 , were doing the english lake district on foot, when, on nearing the base of the famous mount skiddaw, we observed on the road, some distance ahead of us, limp ing along and apparently in great pain, the man whose subsequent career so sorely puz zled us. noting his very evident distress, parton and i quickened our pace and soon caught up with the stranger, who, as we reached his side, fell forward upon his face in a fainting condition as well he might, for not only must he have suffered great agony from a sprained ankle, but inspec tion of his person disclosed a most extraor dinary gash in his right arm, made appar i53 ghosts i have met ently with a sharp knife, and which was bleeding most profusely. to stanch the flow of blood was our first care, and parton, having recently been graduated in medicine, made short work of relieving the sufferer's pain from his ankle, bandaging it about and applying such soothing properties as he had in his knapsack properties, by the way, with which, knowing the small perils to which pedestrians everywhere are liable, he was always provided. our patient soon recovered his senses and evinced no little gratitude for the ser vice we had rendered him, insisting upon our accepting at his hands, merely, he said, as a souvenir of our good-samaritanship, and as a token of his appreciation of the same, a small pocket-flask and an odd diamond shaped stone pierced in the centre, which had hung from the end of his watch-chain, held in place by a minute gold ring. the flask became the property of parton, and to me fell the stone, the exact hue of which i was never able to determine, since it was chameleonic in its properties. when it was placed in my hands by our "grateful pa i54 and some others tient" it was blood -red; when i looked upon it on the following morning it was of a livid, indescribable hue, yet lustrous as an opal. to-day it is colorless and dull, as though some animating quality that it had once possessed had forever passed from it. " you seem to have met with an acci dent," said parton, when the injured man had recovered sufficiently to speak. " yes," he said, wincing with pain, " i have. i set out for saddleback this morn ing i wished to visit the scales tarn and get a glimpse of those noonday stars that are said to make its waters lustrous, and" "and to catch the immortal fish?" i queried. " no," he replied, with a laugh. " i should have been satisfied to see the stars and i did see the stars, but not the ones i set out to see. i have always been more or less careless of my safety, walking with my head in the clouds and letting my feet look out for themselves. the result was that i slipped on a moss-covered stone and ghosts i have met fell over a very picturesque bit of scenery on to some more stones that, unfortunately, were not moss-covered." " but the cut in your arm ?" said parton, suspiciously. "that looks as if somebody else had given it to you." the stranger's face flushed as red as could be considering the amount of blood he had lost, and a look of absolute devilishness that made my flesh creep came into his eyes. for a moment he did not speak, and then, covering the delay in his answer with a groan of anguish, he said : " oh, that ! yes i i did manage to cut myself rather badly and " " i don't see how you could, though," insisted parton. " you couldn't reach that part of yourself with a knife, if you tried." " that's just the reason why you should see for yourself that it was caused by my falling on my knife. i had it grasped in my right hand, intending to cut myself a stick, when i slipped. as i slipped it flew from my hand and i landed on it, fortu nately on the edge and not on the point," he explained, his manner far from convinc 156 and some others ing, though the explanation seemed so sim ple that to doubt it were useless. " did you recover the knife ?" asked par ton. " it must have been a mighty sharp one, and rather larger than most people carry about with them on excursions like yours." " i am not on the witness-stand, sir," re turned the other, somewhat petulantly, "and so i fail to see why you should question me so closely in regard to so simple a matter as though you suspected me of some wrong doing." " my friend is a doctor," i explained ; for while i was quite as much interested in the incident, its whys and wherefores, as was parton, i had myself noticed that he was suspicious of his chance patient, and seemingly not so sympathetic as he would otherwise have been. " he regards you as a case." " not at all," returned parton. " i am simply interested to know how you hurt yourself that is all. i mean no offence, i am sure, and if anything i have said has hurt your feelings i apologize." ghosts i have met " don't mention it, doctor," replied the other, with an uneasy smile, holding his left hand out towards parton as he spoke. " i am in great pain, as you know, and per haps i seem irritable. i'm not an amiable man at best ; as for the knife, in my agony i never thought to look for it again, though i suppose if i had looked i should not have found it, since it doubtless fell into the un derbrush out of sight. let it rest there. it has not done me a friendly service to-day and i shall waste no tears over it." with which effort at pleasantry he rose with some difficulty to his feet, and with the assistance of parton and myself walked on and into keswick, where we stopped for the night. the stranger registered di rectly ahead of parton and myself, writing the words, " carleton barker, calcutta," in the book, and immediately retired to his room, nor did we see him again that night after supper we looked for him, but as he was nowhere to be seen, we concluded that he had gone to bed to seek the recupera tion of rest. parton and i lit our cigars and, though somewhat fatigued by our ex 158 and some others ertions, strolled quietly about the more or less somnolent burg in which we were, dis cussing the events of the day, and chiefly our new acquaintance. " i don't half like that fellow," said par ton, with a dubious shake of the head. " if a dead body should turn up near or on skid daw to-morrow morning, i wouldn't like to wager that mr. carleton barker hadn't put it there. he acted to me like a man who had something to conceal, and if i could have done it without seeming ungracious, i'd have flung his old flask as far into the fields as i could. i've half a mind to show my contempt for it now by filling it with some of that beastly claret they have at the table d'hote here, and chucking the whole thing into the lake. it was an insult to offer those things to us." " i think you are unjust, parton," i said. " he certainly did look as if he had been in a maul with somebody. there was a nasty scratch on his face, and that cut on the arm was suspicious ; but i can't see but that his explanation was clear enough. your manner was too irritating. i think if i had ghosts i have met met with an accident and was assisted by an utter stranger who, after placing me un der obligations to him, acted towards me as though i were an unconvicted criminal, i'd be as mad as he was ; and as for the insult of his offering, in my eyes that was the only way he could soothe his injured feelings. he was angry at your suspicions, and to be entirely your debtor for services didn't please him. his gift to me was made sim ply because he did not wish to pay you in substance and me in thanks." " i don't go so far as to call him an un convicted criminal, but i'll swear his record isn't clear as daylight, and i'm morally con vinced that if men's deeds were written on their foreheads carleton barker, esquire, would wear his hat down over his eyes. i don't like him. i instinctively dislike him. did you see the look in his eyes when i mentioned the knife ?" " i did," i replied. " and it made me shudder." " it turned every drop of blood in my veins cold," said parton. " it made me feel that if he had had that knife within 160 and some others reach he would have trampled it to powder, even if every stamp of his foot cut his flesh through to the bone. malignant is the word to describe that glance, and i'd rath er encounter a rattle -snake than see it again " parton spoke with such evident earnest ness that i took refuge in silence. i could see just where a man of parton's tempera ment which was cold and eminently ju dicial even when his affections were con cerned could find that in barker at which to cavil, but, for all that, i could not sympa thize with the extreme view he took of his character. i have known many a man upon whose face nature has set the stamp of the villain much more deeply than it was im pressed upon barker's countenance, who has lived a life most irreproachable, whose every act has been one of unselfishness and for the good of mankind ; and i have also seen outward appearing saints whose every instinct was base ; and it seemed to me that the physiognomy of the unfortunate victim of the moss -covered rock and vindictive knife was just enough of a medium between l 161 ghosts i have met that of the irredeemable sinner and the ster ling saint to indicate that its owner was the average man in the matter of vices and virt ues. in fact, the malignancy of his ex pression when the knife was mentioned was to me the sole point against him, and had i been in his position i do not think i should have acted very differently, though i must add that if i thought myself capable of freezing any person's blood with an ex pression of my eyes i should be strongly tempted to wear blue glasses when in com pany or before a mirror. " i think i'll send my card up to him, jack," i said to parton, when we had re turned to the hotel, " just to ask how he is. wouldn't you ?" " no !" snapped parton. " but then i'm not you. you can do as you please. don't let me influence you against him if he's to your taste." " he isn't at all to my taste," i retorted. " i don't care for him particularly, but it seems to me courtesy requires that we show a little interest in his welfare." "be courteous, then, and show your inter 162 and some others est," said parton. " i don't care as long as i am not dragged into it." i sent my card up by the boy, who, re turning in a moment, said that the door was locked, adding that when he had knocked upon it there came no answer, from which he presumed that mr. barker had gorfe to sleep. " he seemed all right when you took his supper to his room ?" i queried. " he said he wouldn't have any sup per. just wanted to be left alone," said the boy. " sulking over the knife still, i imagine," sneered parton ; and then he and i retired to our room and prepared for bed. i do not suppose i had slept for more than an hour when i was awakened by par ton, who was pacing the floor like a caged tiger, his eyes all ablaze, and laboring un der an intense nervous excitement. "what's the matter, jack?" i asked, sit ting up in bed. " that d ned barker has upset my nerves," he replied. " i can't get him out of my mind." 163 ghosts i have met "oh, pshaw!" i replied. "don't be silly. forget him." "silly?" he retorted, angrily. "silly? forget him ? hang it, i would forget him if he'd let me but he won't." " what has he got to do with it ?" " more than is decent," ejaculated par ton. " more than is decent. he has just been peering in through that window there, and he means no good." " why, you're mad," i remonstrated. " he couldn't peer in at the window we are on the fourth floor, and there is no pos sible way in which he could reach the win dow, much less peer in at it." " nevertheless," insisted parton, " carle ton barker for ten minutes previous to your waking was peering in at me through that window there, and in his glance was that same malignant, hateful quality that so set me against him to-day and another thing, bob," added parton, stopping his nervous walk for a moment and shaking his ringer impressively at me " another thing which i did not tell you before because i thought it would fill you with that same awful dread 164 and some others that has come to me since meeting barker the blood from that man's arm, the blood that stained his shirt-sleeve crimson, that besmeared his clothes, spurted out upon my cuff and coat-sleeve when i strove to stanch its flow !" "yes, i remember that," said i. " and now look at my cuff and sleeve !" whispered parton, his face grown white. i looked. there was no stain of any sort whatsoever upon either ! certainly there must have been some thing wrong about carleton barker. ii the mystery of carleton barker was by no means lessened when next morning it was found that his room not only was empty, but that, as far as one could judge from the aspect of things therein, it had not been occupied at all. furthermore, our chance acquaintance had vanished, leaving no more trace of his whereabouts than if he had never existed. 165 ghosts i have met " good riddance," said parton. " i am afraid he and i would have come to blows sooner or later, because the mere thought of him was beginning to inspire me with a desire to thrash him. i'm sure he deserves a trouncing, whoever he is." i, too, was glad the fellow had passed out of our ken, but not for the reason advanced by parton. since the discovery of the stain less cuff, where marks of blood ought by nature to have been, i goose-fleshed at the mention of his name. there was something so inexpressibly uncanny about a creature having a fluid of that sort in his veins. in fact, so unpleasantly was i impressed by that episode that i was unwilling even to join in a search for the mysteriously miss ing barker, and by common consent parton and i dropped him entirely as a subject for conversation. we spent the balance of our week at kes wick, using it as our head-quarters for little trips about the surrounding country, which is most charmingly adapted to the wants of those inclined to pedestrianism, and on sun day evening began preparations for our de 166 and some others parture, discarding our knickerbockers and resuming the habiliments of urban life, in tending on monday morning to run up to edinburgh, there to while away a few days before starting for a short trip through the trossachs. while engaged in packing our portman teaux there came a sharp knock at the door, and upon opening it i found upon the hall floor an envelope addressed to myself. there was no one anywhere in the hall, and, so quickly had i opened the door after the knock, that fact mystified me. it would hardly have been possible for any person, however nimble of foot, to have passed out of sight in the period which had elapsed between the summons and my response. "what is it?" asked parton, observing that i was slightly agitated. " nothing," i said, desirous of concealing from him the matter that bothered me, lest i should be laughed at for my pains. " noth ing, except a letter for me." " not by post, is it ?" he queried ; to which he added, " can't be. there is no mail here to-day. some friend ?" 167 ghosts i have met " i don't know," i said, trying, in a somewhat feminine fashion, to solve the authorship of the letter before opening it by staring at the superscription. " i don't recognize the handwriting at all." i then opened the letter, and glancing hastily at the signature was filled with un easiness to see who my correspondent was. " it's from that fellow barker," i said. "barker!" cried parton. "what on earth has barker been writing to you about ?" " he is in trouble," i replied, as i read the letter. " financial, i presume, and wants a lift ?" suggested parton. "worse than that," said i, "he is in prison in london." "wha-a-at?" ejaculated parton. "in prison in london ? what for ?" " on suspicion of having murdered an innkeeper in the south of england on tuesday, august i6th." " well, i'm sorry to say that i believe he was guilty," returned parton, without re flecting that the i6th day of august was the 168 and some others day upon which he and i had first encoun tered barker. " that's your prejudice, jack," said i. " if you'll think a minute you'll know he was innocent. he was here on august 1 6th last tuesday. it was then that you and i saw him for the first time limping along the road and bleeding from a wound in the shoulder." "was tuesday the i6th?" said parton, counting the days backward on his fingers. " that's a fact. it was but it's none of my affair anyhow. it is too blessed queer for me to mix myself up in it, and i say let him languish in jail. he deserved it for something, i am sure " " well, i'm not so confoundedly heart less," i returned, pounding the table with my fist, indignant that parton should allow his prejudices to run away with his sense of justice. " i'm going to london to do as he asks." " what does he want you to do ? prove an alibi ?" " precisely ; and i'm going and you're going, and i shall see if the landlord here 169 ghosts i have met won't let me take one of his boys along to support our testimony at my own expense if need be." " you're right, old chap," returned par ton, after a moment of internal struggle. " i suppose we really ought to help the fellow out of his scrape ; but i'm decidedly averse to getting mixed up in an affair of any kind with a man like carleton barker, much less in an affair with murder in it. is he specific about the murder ?" " no. he refers me to the london pa pers of the iyth and i8th for details. he hadn't time to write more, because he comes up for examination on tuesday morning, and as our presence is essential to his case he was necessarily hurried." " it's deucedly hard luck for us," said parton, ruefully. " it means no scotland this trip." " how about barker's luck ?" i asked. " he isn't fighting for a scottish trip he's fighting for his life." and so it happened that on monday morning, instead of starting for edinburgh, we boarded the train for london at car 170 and some others lisle. we tried to get copies of the news papers containing accounts of the crime that had been committed, but our efforts were unavailing, and it was not until we arrived in london and were visited by barker's at torneys that we obtained any detailed in formation whatsoever of the murder; and when we did get it we were more than ever regretful to be mixed up in it, for it was an unusually brutal murder. strange to say, the evidence against barker was extraordinarily convincing, considering that at the time of the commission of the crime he was hun dreds of miles from the scene. there was testimony from railway guards, neighbors of the murdered innkeeper, and others, that it was barker and no one else who com mitted the crime. his identification was complete, and the wound in his shoulder was shown almost beyond the possibility of doubt to have been inflicted by the mur dered man in self-defence. " our only hope," said the attorney, grave ly, " is in proving an alibi. i do not know what to believe myself, the chain of evi dence against my client is so complete ; and ghosts i have met yet he asserts his innocence, and has stated to me that you two gentlemen could assist in proving it. if you actually encountered carleton barker in the neighborhood of keswick on the i6th of this month, the whole case against him falls to the ground. if not, i fear his outlook has the gallows at the small end of the perspective." "we certainly did meet a carleton bar ker at keswick on tuesday, august i6th," returned parton ; " and he was wounded in the shoulder, and his appearance was what might have been expected of one who had been through just such a frightful murder as we understand this to have been ; but this was explained to us as due to a fall over rocks in the vicinity of the scales tarn which was plausible enough to satisfy my friend here." " and not yourself ?" queried the attorney. "well, i don't see what that has to do with it," returned parton. " as to the lo cality there is no question. he was there. we saw him, and others saw him, and we have taken the trouble to come down here to state the fact, and have brought with us 172 and some others the call-boy from the hotel, who can support our testimony if it is not regarded as suf ficient. i advise you, however, as attorney for barker, not to inquire too deeply into that matter, because i am convinced that if he isn't guilty of this crime as of course he is not he hasn't the cleanest record in the world. he has bad written on every line of his face, and there were one or two things connected with our meeting with him that mightn't be to his taste to have men tioned in court." " i don't need advice, thank you," said the attorney, dryly. " i wish simply to es tablish the fact of his presence at keswick at the hour of 5 p.m. on tuesday, august i6th. that was the hour at which the mur der is supposed in fact, is proved to have been committed. at 5.30, according to witnesses, my client was seen in the neigh borhood, faint with loss of blood from a knife-wound in the shoulder. barker has the knife-wound, but he might have a dozen of them and be acquitted if he wasn't in frewenton on the day in question." " you may rely upon us to prove that," ghosts i have met said i. "we will swear to it. we can produce tangible objects presented to us on that afternoon by barker " " i can't produce mine," said parton. " i threw it into the lake." " well, i can produce the stone he gave me," said i, "and i'll do it if you wish." "that will be sufficient, i think," re turned the attorney. " barker spoke es pecially about that stone, for it was a half of an odd souvenir of the east, where he was born, and he fortunately has the other half. the two will fit together at the point where the break was made, and our case will be complete." the attorney then left us. the following day we appeared at the preliminary exami nation, which proved to be the whole ex amination as well, since, despite the dam ning circumstantial evidence against barker, evidence which shook my belief almost in the veracity of my own eyes, our plain state ments, substantiated by the evidence of the call-boy and the two halves of the oriental pebble, one in my possession and the other in barker's, brought about the discharge and some others of the prisoner from custody ; and the " fre wenton atrocity" became one of many horrible murders, the mystery of which time alone, if anything, could unravel. after barker was released he came to me and thanked me most effusively for the ser vice rendered him, and in many ways made himself agreeable during the balance of our stay in london. parton, however, would have nothing to do with him, and to me most of his attentions were paid. he al ways had a singularly uneasy way about him, as though he were afraid of some im pending trouble, and finally after a day spent with him slumming about london and a more perfect slummer no one ever saw, for he was apparently familiar with every one of the worst and lowest resorts in all of london as well as on intimate terms with leaders in the criminal world i put a few questions to him impertinently pertinent to himself. he was surprisingly frank in his answers. i was quite prepared for a more or less indignant refusal when i asked him to account for his intimacy with these dregs of civilization. ghosts i have met " it's a long story," he said, "but i'll tell it to you. let us run in here and have a chop, and i'll give you some account of myself over a mug of ale." we entered one of the numerous small eating-houses that make london a delight to the lover of the chop in the fulness of its glory. when we were seated and the lunch eon ordered barker began. "i have led a very unhappy life. i was born in india thirty-nine years ago, and while my every act has been as open and as free of wrong as are those of an infant, i have constantly been beset by such untoward affairs as this in which you have rendered such inestimable service. at the age of five, in calcutta, i was in peril of my liberty on the score of depravity, although i never com mitted any act that could in any sense be called depraved. the main cause of my trouble at that time was a small girl of ten whose sight was partially destroyed by the fiendish act of some one who, according to her statement, wantonly hurled a piece of broken glass into one of her eyes. the girl said it was i who did it, although at the 176 and some others time it was done, according to my mother's testimony, i was playing in her room and in her plain view. that alone would not have been a very serious matter for me, because the injured child might have been herself responsible for her injury, but in a childish spirit of fear, afraid to say so, and, not re alizing the enormity of the charge, have laid it at the door of any one of her playmates she saw fit. she stuck to her story, however, and there were many who believed that she spoke the truth and that my mother, in an endeavor to keep me out of trouble, had stated what was not true." "but you were innocent, of course?" i said. " i am sorry you think it necessary to ask that," he replied, his pallid face flushing with a not unnatural indignation; "and i decline to answer it," he added. " i have made a practice of late, when i am in trouble or in any way under suspicion, to let others do my pleading and prove my innocence. but you didn't mean to be like your friend parton, i know, and i cannot be angry with a man who has done so much for me as you m 177 ghosts i have met have so let it pass. i was saying that standing alone the accusation of that young girl would not have been serious in its ef fects in view of my mother's 'testimony, had not a seeming corroboration come three days later, when another child was reported to have been pushed over an embankment and maimed for life by no less a person than my poor innocent self. this time i was again, on my mother's testimony, at her side ; but there were witnesses of the crime, and they every one of them swore to my guilt, and as a consequence we found it ad visable to leave the home that had been ours since my birth, and to come to england. my father had contemplated returning to his own country for some time, and the rep utation that i had managed unwittingly to build up for myself in calcutta was of a sort that made it easier for him to make up his mind. he at first swore that he would fer ret out the mystery in the matter, and would go through calcutta with a drag-net if neces sary to find the possible other boy who so resembled me that his outrageous acts were put upon my shoulders ; but people had be 178 and some others gun to make up their minds that there was not only something wrong about me, but that my mother knew it and had tried to get me out of my scrapes by lying so there was nothing for us to do but leave." "and you never solved the mystery?" i queried. "well, not exactly," returned barker, gazing abstractedly before him. " not ex actly; but i have a theory, based upon the bitterest kind of experience, that i know what the trouble is." "you have a double ?" i asked. "you are a good guesser," he replied; "and of all unhanged criminals he is the very worst." there was a strange smile on his lips as carleton barker said this. his tone was almost that of one who was boasting in fact, so strongly was i impressed with his appearance of conceit when he estimated the character of his double, that i felt bold enough to say : "you seem to be a little proud of it, in spite of all." barker laughed. 179 ghosts i have met "i can't help it, though he has kept me on tenterhooks for a lifetime," he said. "we all feel a certain amount of pride in the success of those to whom we are related, either by family ties or other shackles like those with which i am bound to my murder ous alter ego. i knew an englishman once who was so impressed with the notion that he resembled the great napoleon that he conceived the most ardent hatred for his own country for having sent the illustrious frenchman to st. helena. the same in fluence a very subtle one i feel. here is a man who has maimed and robbed and murdered for years, and has never yet been apprehended. in his chosen calling he has been successful, and though i have been put to my trumps many a time to save my neck from the retribution that should have been his, i can't help admiring the fellow, though i'd kill him if he stood before me !" "and are you making any effort to find him ?" "i am, of course," said barker; "that has been my life-work. i am fortunately possessed of means enough to live on, so 1 80 and some others that i can devote all my time to unravelling the mystery. it is for this reason that i have acquainted myself with the element of london with which, as you have noticed, i am very familiar. the life these criminals are leading is quite as revolting to me as it is to you, and the scenes you and i have witnessed together are no more unpleasant to you than they are to me; but what can i do ? the man lives and must be run down. he is in england, i am certain. this latest diversion of his has convinced me of that." "well," said i, rising, "you certainly have my sympathy, mr. barker, and i hope your efforts will meet with success. i trust you will have the pleasure of seeing the oth er gentleman hanged." "thank you," he said, with a queer look in his eyes, which, as i thought it over after wards, did not seem to be quite as appropri ate to his expression of gratitude as it might have been. ill when barker and i parted that day it was for a longer period than either of us 181 ghosts i have met dreamed, for upon my arrival at my lodg ings i found there a cable message from new york, calling me back to my labors. three days later i sailed for home, and five years elapsed before i was so fortunate as to renew my acquaintance with foreign climes. occasionally through these years parton and i discussed barker, and at no time did my companion show anything but an increased animosity towards our strange keswick acquaintance. the men tion of his name was sufficient to drive parton from the height of exuberance to a state of abject depression. " i shall not feel easy while that man lives," he said. " i think he is a minion of satan. there is nothing earthly about him." "nonsense," said i. "just because a man has a bad face is no reason for suppos ing him a villain or a supernatural creature." "no," parton answered; "but when a man's veins hold blood that saturates and leaves no stain, what are we to think ?" i confessed that this was a point beyond me, and, by mutual consent, we dropped the subject. 182 and some others one night parton came to my rooms white as a sheet, and so agitated that for a few minutes he could not speak. he dropped, shaking like a leaf, into my reading-chair and buried his face in his hands. his at titude was that of one frightened to the very core of his being. when i questioned him first he did not respond. he simply groaned. i resumed my reading for a few moments, and then looking up observed that parton had recovered somewhat and was now gaz ing abstractedly into the fire. "well," i said, " feeling better ?" "yes," he answered, slowly. "but it was a shock." " what was ?" i asked. " you've told me nothing as yet." " i've seen barker." "no!" i cried. "where?" "in a back alley down-town, where i had to go on a hospital call. there was a row in a gambling-hell in hester street. two men were cut and i had to go with the am bulance. both men will probably die, and no one can find any trace of the murderer; but i know who he is. he was carleton 183 ghosts i have met barker and no one else. i passed him in the alley on the way in, and i saw him in the crowd when i came out." " was he alone in the alley ?" i asked. parton groaned again. " that's the worst of it," said he. " he was not alone. he was with carleton barker." "you speak in riddles," said i. " i saw in riddles," said parton ; " for as truly as i sit here there were two of them, and they stood side by side as i passed through, alike as two peas, and crime writ ten on the pallid face of each." " did barker recognize you ?" "i think so, for as i passed he gasped both of them gasped, and as i stopped to speak to the one i had first recognized he had vanished as completely as though he had never been, and as i turned to address the other he was shambling off into the dark ness as fast as his legs could carry him." i was stunned. barker had been mysteri ous enough in london. in new york with his double, and again connected with an atrocity, he became even more so, and i be 184 and some others gan to feel somewhat towards him as had parton from the first. the papers next morning were not very explicit on the sub ject of the hester street trouble, but they confirmed parton's suspicions in his and my own mind as to whom the assassins were. the accounts published simply stated that the wounded men, one of whom had died in the night and the other of whom would doubtless not live through the day, had been set upon and stabbed by two unknown englishmen who had charged them with cheating at cards; that the as sailants had disappeared, and that the po lice had no clew as to their whereabouts. time passed and nothing further came to light concerning the barkers, and gradually parton and i came to forget them. the following summer i went abroad again, and then came the climax to the barker episode, as we called it. i can best tell the story of that climax by printing here a letter written by myself to parton. it was penned within an hour of the supreme moment, and while it evidences my own mental perturbation in its lack of coherence, it is none the less 185 ghosts i have met an absolutely truthful account of what hap pened. the letter is as follows : " london, july 18, 18 . " my dear parton, you once said to me that you could not breathe easily while this world held carleton barker living. you may now draw an easy breath, and many of them, for the barker episode is over. barker is dead, and i flatter myself that i am doing very well myself to live sanely after the ex periences of this morning. " about a week after my arrival in eng land a horrible tragedy was enacted in the seven dials district. a woman was the victim, and a devil in human form the per petrator of the crime. the poor creature was literally hacked to pieces in a manner suggesting the hand of jack the ripper, but in this instance the murderer, unlike jack, was caught red-handed, and turned out to be no less a person than carleton barker. he was tried and convicted, and sentenced to be hanged at twelve o'clock to-day. "when i heard of barker's trouble i went, as a matter of curiosity solely, to the 186 and some others trial, and discovered in the dock the man you and i had encountered at keswick. that is to say, he resembled our friend in every possible respect. if he were not barker he was the most perfect imitation of barker conceivable. not a feature of our barker but was reproduced in this one, even to the name. but he failed to recognize me. he saw me, i know, because i felt his eyes upon me, but in trying to return his gaze i quailed utterly before him. i could not look him in the eye without a feeling of the most deadly horror, but i did see enough of him to note that he regarded me only as one of a thousand spectators who had flocked into the court -room during the progress of the trial. if it were our barker who sat there his dissemblance was remark able. so coldly did he look at me that i began to doubt if he really were the man we had met ; but the events of this morning have changed my mind utterly on that point. he was the one we had met, and i am now convinced that his story to me of his double was purely fictitious, and that from begin ning to end there has been but one barker. 187 ghosts i have met " the trial was a speedy one. there was nothing to be said in behalf of the prisoner, and within five days of his arraignment he was convicted and sentenced to the extreme penalty that of hanging and noon to-day was the hour appointed for the execution. i was to have gone to richmond to-day by coach, but since barker's trial i have been in a measure depressed. i have grown to dislike the man as thoroughly as did you, and yet i was very much affected by the thought that he was finally to meet death upon the scaffold. i could not bring myself to participate in any pleasures on the day of his execution, and in consequence i gave up my richmond journey and remained all morning in my lodgings trying to read. it was a miserable effort. i could not con centrate my mind upon my book no book could have held the slightest part of my at tention at that time. my thoughts were all for carleton barker, and i doubt if, when the clock hands pointed to half after eleven, barker himself was more apprehensive over what was to come than i. i found myself holding my watch in my hand, gazing at the 188 and some others dial and counting the seconds which must intervene before the last dreadful scene of a life of crime. i would rise from my chair and pace my room nervously for a few min utes ; then i would throw myself into my chair again and stare at my watch. this went on nearly all the morning in fact, until ten minutes before twelve, when there came a slight knock at my door. i put aside my nervousness as well as i could, and, walking to the door, opened it. " i wonder that i have nerve to write of it, parton, but there upon the threshold, clad in the deepest black, his face pallid as the head of death itself and his hands shak ing like those of a palsied man, stood no less a person than carleton barker ! " i staggered back in amazement and he followed me, closing the door and locking it behind him. " ' what would you do ?' i cried, regard ing his act with alarm, for, candidly, i was almost abject with fear. " ' nothing to you !' he said. ' you have been as far as you could be my friend. the other, your companion of keswick' 189 ghosts i have met meaning you, of course ' was ray en emy.' "i was glad you were not with us, my dear parton. i should have trembled for your safety. " ' how have you managed to escape ?' i asked. " ' i have not escaped,' returned barker. ' but i soon shall be free from my accursed double.' " here he gave an unearthly laugh and pointed to the clock. "'ha, ha!' he cried. 'five minutes more five minutes more and i shall be free.' "'then the man in the dock was not you ?' i asked. "'the man in the dock,' he answered, slowly, 'is even now mounting the gallows, whilst i stand here.' " he trembled a little as he spoke, and lurched forward like a drunken man ; but he soon recovered himself, grasping the back of my chair convulsively with his long white fingers. " ' in two minutes more,' he whispered, iqo and some others 'the rope will be adjusted about his neck; the black cap is even now being drawn over his cursed features, and ' " here he shrieked with laughter, and, rushing to the window, thrust his head out and literally sucked the air into his lungs, as a man with a parched throat would have drank water. then he turned and, totter ing back to my side, hoarsely demanded some brandy. " it was fortunately at hand, and pre cisely as the big bells in westminster be gan to sound the hour of noon, he caught up the goblet and held it aloft. " ' to him !' he cried. "and then, parton, standing before me in my lodgings, as truly as i write, he re mained fixed and rigid until the twelfth stroke of the bells sounded, when he liter ally faded from my sight, and the goblet, falling to the floor, was shattered into count less atoms !" the end uc southern regional libra y | i ii ' ' '" " a 001367625 9 m 260 309 2/4/7 3. 5 / 2 †† h a r v a r d c o l l e g e l i b r a r y ------------！*** --~~~~ **** * --_ , z/2 × 2 ghost-stories of an antiquary the englishman was too deep in his note-book to give more than an occasional glance to the sacristan. [page 5. * -ae， * * * * * *** * * ** * * * ... : * a. * re * * * *r # tº 1.e. fº -º* :* * * * * * • * * * ** . . ;* *, * tº h. r tº s sº. -* * * * * * 1 ) \, ！~, •• ••• -* * * -* * * º -n º --º * * * t º l *: s t -t -*. ** *** * º º t º ". :* -tº rº * ** --" * s -tº s * . . . . --> * * * -a * ...} º s ; : -== * *.. º * º -* * * . -º s t ** ---º -* • * • -º ---º . . -sº º ** º º ". º * -* -* º * * --w ** -~ a. *. * s * * * * -* s * * s t i -t * -: n , , º, nº ºil-º ºx ~, * * * * * . . . ~ * : *-i, a nt * * * * * : ghost-stories of an antiquary by montague rhodes iames) litt.d. fellow of king's college, cambridge with four illustrations by the late 3ames mcbryde second impression lo n don e d w a r d a r n o l d 41 & 43 maddox street, bond street, w. [all rights reserved] i905 harward college library beo jest of winward prescott january 27, 1933 these stories are dedicated to all those who at warious times have listened to them _----… … -：） ------------------pr e fa c e i wrote these stories at long intervals, and most of them were read to patient friends, usually at the season of christmas. one of these friends offered to illustrate them, and it was agreed that, if he would do that, i would consider the question of publishing them. four pictures he completed, which will be found in this volume, and then, very quickly and unexpectedly, he was taken away. this is the reason why the greater part of the stories are not provided with illustrations. those who knew the artist will understand how much i wished to give a permanent form even to a fragment of his work; others will appreciate the fact that here a remembrance is made of one in whom many friendships centred. vii viii preface the stories themselves do not make any very exalted claim. if any of them succeed in causing their readers to feel pleasantly uncomfortable when walking along a solitary road at nightfall, or sitting over a dying fire in the small hours, my purpose in writing them will have been attained. two of them—the first two in the volume —have appeared in print in the national review and the pall mall magazine respectively, and i wish to thank the editors of those periodicals for kindly allowing me to republish them here. m. r. james. king's college, cambridge, allhallon's' even, 1904. contents page canon alberic's scrap-book 1 * lost hearts – 29 — the mezzotint 53 the ash-tree 81 * number 13 113 4– count magnus 149 g ‘oh, whistle, and i'll come to you, my lad” – h the treasure of abbot thomas 227 + ºxº~4-f *~~ “4, ž 4…< * , 4–% ~~~ 12 2. 2 fºr */. be |-4. */ / ix list of illustrations the englishman was too deep in his note-book page to give more than an occasional glance at the sacristan jºrontispiece to face 26 a hand like the hand in that picture looking up in an attitude of painful anxiety it leapt towards him upon the instant xi 29 39 204 222 canon alberic's scrap-book _ ^-^v_º --~~）~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~~~ ~~~~^^-^ ^*^-~ ~** ----•'' – ~--~~~~ ~ ~ ~~~~）~~：-）--~~*~ `+） ghost stories of an antiquary canon alberic's scrap-book st. bertrand de comminges is a decayed town on the spurs of the pyrenees, not very far from toulouse, and still nearer to bagnèresde-luchon. it was the site of a bishopric until the revolution, and has a cathedral which is visited by a certain number of tourists. in the spring of 1883 an englishman arrived at this old-world place—i can hardly dignify it with the name of city, for there are not a thousand inhabitants. he was a cambridge man, who had come specially from toulouse to see st. bertrand’s church, and had left two friends, who were less keen archaeologists than himself, in their hotel at toulouse, under promise to join him on the following 3 1–2 4 ghost-stories of an antiquary morning. half an hour at the church would satisfy them, and all three could then pursue their journey in the direction of auch. but our englishman had come early on the day in question, and proposed to himself to fill a note-book and to use several dozens of plates in the process of describing and photographing every corner of the wonderful church that dominates the little hill of comminges. in order to carry out this design satisfactorily, it was necessary to monopolize the verger of the church for the day. the verger or sacristan (i prefer the latter appellation, inaccurate as it may be) was accordingly sent for by the somewhat brusque lady who keeps the inn of the chapeau rouge; and when he came, the englishman found him an unexpectedly interesting object of study. it was not in the personal appearance of the little, dry, wizened old man that the interest lay, for he was precisely like dozens of other church-guardians in france, but in a curious furtive, or rather hunted and oppressed, air which he had. he was perpetually half canon alberic's scrap-book 5 glancing behind him; the muscles of his back and shoulders seemed to be hunched in a continual nervous contraction, as if he were expecting every moment to find himself in the clutch of an enemy. the englishman hardly knew whether to put him down as a man haunted by a fixed delusion, or as one oppressed by a guilty conscience, or as an unbearably henpecked husband. the probabilities, when reckoned up, certainly pointed to the last idea; but, still, the impression conveyed was that of a more formidable persecutor even than a termagant wife. however, the englishman (let us call him dennistoun) was soon too deep in his notebook and too busy with his camera to give more than an occasional glance to the sacristan. whenever he did look at him, he found him at no great distance, either huddling himself back against the wall or crouching in one of the gorgeous stalls. dennistoun became rather fidgety after a time. mingled suspicions that he was keeping the old man from his déjeuner, that he was regarded as likely to make away 6 ghost-stories of an antiquary with st. bertrand's ivory crozier, or with the dusty stuffed crocodile that hangs over the font, began to torment him. ‘won't you go home 2' he said at last; ‘i’m quite well able to finish my notes alone; you can lock me in if you like. i shall want at least two hours more here, and it must be cold for you, isn't it º' * good heavens !” said the little man, whom the suggestion seemed to throw into a state of unaccountable terror, “such a thing cannot be thought of for a moment. leave monsieur alone in the church 2 no, no ; two hours, three hours, all will be the same to me. i have breakfasted, i am not at all cold, with many thanks to monsieur.” “very well, my little man,’ quoth dennistoun to himself: “you have been warned, and you must take the consequences.’ before the expiration of the two hours, the stalls, the enormous dilapidated organ, the choir-screen of bishop john de mauléon, the remnants of glass and tapestry, and the objects in the treasure-chamber, had been well and canon alberic's scrap-book 7 truly examined ; the sacristan still keeping at dennistoun's heels, and every now and then whipping round as if he had been stung, when one or other of the strange noises that trouble a large empty building fell on his ear. curious noises they were sometimes. ‘ once, dennistoun said to me, “i could have sworn i heard a thin metallic voice laughing high up in the tower. i darted an inquiring glance at my sacristan. he was white to the lips. “it is he—that is— it is no one ; the door is locked,” was all he said, and we looked at each other for a full minute.’ another little incident puzzled dennistoun a good deal. he was examining a large dark picture that hangs behind the altar, one of a series illustrating the miracles of st. bertrand. the composition of the picture is well-nigh indecipherable, but there is a latin legend below, which runs thus: ‘qualiter s. bertrandus liberavit hominem quem diabolus diu volebat strangulare.” (how st. bertrand delivered a man whom the devil long sought to strangle.) 8 ghost-stories of an antiquary dennistoun was turning to the sacristan with a smile and a jocular remark of some sort on his lips, but he was confounded to see the old man on his knees, gazing at the picture with the eye of a suppliant in agony, his hands tightly clasped, and a rain of tears on his cheeks. dennistounnaturally pretended to have noticed nothing, but the question would not away from him, ‘why should a daub of this kind affect anyone so strongly £ he seemed to himself to be getting some sort of clue to the reason of the strange look that had been puzzling him all the day: the man must be a monomaniac; but what was his monomania ž it was nearly five o'clock; the short day was drawing in, and the church began to fill with shadows, while the curious noises—the muffled footfalls and distant talking voices that had been perceptible all day—seemed, no doubt because of the fading light and the consequently quickened sense of hearing, to become more frequent and insistent. the sacristan began for the first time to show signs of hurry and impatience. he canon alberic's scrap-book 9 heaved a sigh of relief when camera and notebook were finally packed up and stowed away, and hurriedly beckoned dennistoun to the western door of the church, under the tower. it was time to ring the angelus. a few pulls at the reluctant rope, and the great bell bertrande, high in the tower, began to speak, and swung her voice up among the pines and down to the valleys, loud with mountain-streams, calling the dwellers on those lonely hills to remember and repeat the salutation of the angel to her whom he called blessed among women. with that a profound quiet seemed to fall for the first time that day upon the little town, and dennistoun and the sacristan went out of the church. on the doorstep they fell into conversation. * monsieur seemed to interest himself in the old choir-books in the sacristy.’ “undoubtedly. i was going to ask you if there were a library in the town.” ‘no, monsieur; perhaps there used to be one belonging to the chapter, but it is now such a small place here came a strange 10 ghost-stories of an antiquary pause of irresolution, as it seemed; then, with a sort of plunge, he went on : “but if monsieur is amateur des viewa! livres, i have at home something that might interest him. it is not a hundred yards.’ at once all dennistoun's cherished dreams of finding priceless manuscripts in untrodden corners of france flashed up, to die down again the next moment. it was probably a stupid missal of plantin's printing, about 1580. where was the likelihood that a place so near toulouse would not have been ransacked long ago by collectors ? however, it would be foolish not to go ; he would reproach himself for ever after if he refused. so they set off. on the way the curious irresolution and sudden determination of the sacristan recurred to dennistoun, and he wondered in a shamefaced way whether he was being decoyed into some purlieu to be made away with as a supposed rich englishman. he contrived, therefore, to begin talking with his guide, and to drag in, in a rather clumsy fashion, the fact that he expected two friends to join him canon alberic's scrap-book 11 early the next morning. to his surprise, the . announcement seemed to relieve the sacristan at once of some of the anxiety that oppressed him. ‘that is well,” he said quite brightly—‘that is very well. monsieur will travel in company with his friends; they will be always near him. it is a good thing to travel thus in company—sometimes.’ the last word appeared to be added as an afterthought, and to bring with it a relapse into gloom for the poor little man. they were soon at the house, which was one rather larger than its neighbours, stonebuilt, with a shield carved over the door, the shield of alberic de mauléon, a collateral descendant, dennistoun, tells me, of bishop john de mauléon. this alberic was a canon of comminges from 1680 to 1701. the upper windows of the mansion were boarded up, and the whole place bore, as does the rest of comminges, the aspect of decaying age. arrived on his doorstep, the sacristan paused a moment. 12 ghost-stories of an antiquary ‘perhaps, he said, “perhaps, after all, monsieur has not the time !” “not at all—lots of time—nothing to do till to-morrow. let us see what it is you have got.’ the door was opened at this point, and a face looked out, a face far younger than the sacristan's, but bearing something of the same distressing look: only here it seemed to be the mark, not so much of fear for personal safety as of acute anxiety on behalf of another. plainly, the owner of the face was the sacristan's daughter; and, but for the expression i have described, she was a handsome girl enough. she brightened up considerably on seeing her father accompanied by an able-bodied stranger. a few remarks passed between father and daughter, of which dennistoun only caught these words, said by the sacristan, “he was laughing in the church,' words which were answered only by a look of terror from the girl. but in another minute they were in the sitting-room of the house, a small, high chamber canon alberic's scrap-book 13 with a stone floor, full of moving shadows cast by a wood-fire that flickered on a great hearth. something of the character of an oratory was imparted to it by a tall crucifix, which reached almost to the ceiling on one side; the figure was painted of the natural colours, the cross was black. under this stood a chest of some age and solidity, and when a lamp had been brought, and chairs set, the sacristan went to this chest, and produced therefrom, with growing excitement and nervousness, as dennistoun thought, a large book, wrapped in a white cloth, on which cloth a cross was rudely embroidered in red thread. even before the wrapping had been removed, dennistoun began to be interested by the size and shape of the volume. ‘too large for a missal,’ he thought, ‘and not the shape of an antiphoner; perhaps it may be something good, after all.’ the next moment the book was open, and dennistoun felt that he had at last lit upon something better than good. before him lay a large folio, bound, perhaps, late in the seventeenth century, with 14 ghost-stories of an antiquary the arms of canon alberic de mauléon stamped in gold on the sides. there may have been a hundred and fifty leaves of paper in the book, and on almost every one of them was fastened a leaf from an illuminated manuscript. such a collection dennistoun had hardly dreamed of in his wildest moments. here were ten leaves from a copy of genesis, illustrated with pictures, which could not be later than 700 a.d. further on was a complete set of pictures from a psalter, of english execution, of the very finest kind that the thirteenth century could produce; and, perhaps best of all, there were twenty leaves of uncial writing in latin, which, as a few words seen here and there told him at once, must belong to some very early unknown patristic treatise. could it possibly be a fragment of the copy of papias “on the words of our lord,” which was known to have existed as late as the twelfth century at nimes?” in any case, his mind was made * we now know that these leaves did contain a considerable fragment of that work, if not of that actual copy of it. canon alberic's scrap-book 15 up; that book must return to cambridge with him, even if he had to draw the whole of his balance from the bank and stay at st. bertrand till the money came. he glanced up at the sacristan to see if his face yielded any hint that the book was for sale. the sacristan was pale, and his lips were working. “if monsieur will turn on to the end,' he said. so monsieur turned on, meeting new treasures at every rise of a leaf; and at the end of the book he came upon two sheets of paper, of much more recent date than anything he had yet seen, which puzzled him considerably. they must be contemporary, he decided, with the unprincipled canon alberic, who had doubtless plundered the chapter library of st. bertrand to form this priceless scrap-book. on the first of the paper sheets was a plan, carefully drawn and instantly recognisable by a person who knew the ground, of the south aisle and cloisters of st. bertrand’s. there were curious signs looking like planetary symbols, and a few hebrew words in the 16 ghost-stories of an antiquary corners; and in the north-west angle of the cloister was a cross drawn in gold paint. below the plan were some lines of writing in latin, which ran thus: “responsa 12" dec. 1694. interrogatum est: inveniamne? responsum est: invenies. fiamme dives 2 fies. vivamne invidendus p wives. moriarne in lecto meo p ita.” (answers of the 12th of december, 1694. it was asked: shall i find it p answer: thou shalt. shall i become rich 2 thou wilt. shall i live an object of envy p thou wilt. shall i die in my bed p thou wilt.) “a good specimen of the treasure-hunter's record—quite reminds one of mr. minor-canon quatremain in “old st. paul's,” was dennistoun's comment, and he turned the leaf. what he then saw impressed him, as he has often told me, more than he could have conceived any drawing or picture capable of impressing him. and, though the drawing he saw is no longer in existence, there is a photograph of it (which i possess) which fully bears out that statement. the picture in question was a sepia drawing at the end of the seventeenth century, representing, one would canon alberic's scrap-book 17 say at first sight, a biblical scene; for the architecture (the picture represented an interior) and the figures had that semi-classical flavour about them which the artists of two hundred years ago thought appropriate to illustrations of the bible. on the right was a king on his throne, the throne elevated on twelve steps, a canopy overhead, soldiers on either side—evidently king solomon. he was bending forward with outstretched sceptre, in attitude of command; his face expressed horror and disgust, yet there was in it also the mark of imperious command and confident power. the left half of the picture was the strangest, however. the interest plainly centred there. on the pavement before the throne were grouped four soldiers, surrounding a crouching figure which must be described in a moment. a fifth soldier lay dead on the pavement, his neck distorted, and his eyeballs starting from his head. the four surrounding guards were looking at the king. in their faces the sentiment of horror was intensified ; they seemed, in fact, only restrained from flight 2 18 ghost-stories of an antiquary by their implicit trust in their master. all this terror was plainly excited by the being that crouched in their midst. i entirely despair of conveying by any words the impression which this figure makes upon anyone who looks at it. i recollect once showing the photograph of the drawing to a lecturer on morphology—a person of, i was going to say, abnormally sane and unimaginative habits of mind. he absolutely refused to be alone for the rest of that evening, and he told me afterwards that for many nights he had not dared to put out his light before going to sleep. however, the main traits of the figure i can at least indicate. at first you saw only a mass of coarse, matted black hair; presently it was seen that this covered a body of fearful thinness, almost a skeleton, but with the muscles standing out like wires. the hands were of a dusky pallor, covered, like the body, with long, coarse hairs, and hideously taloned. the eyes, touched in with a burning yellow, had intensely black pupils, and were fixed upon the throned king with a look of beast-like hate. imagine canon alberic's scrap-book 19 one of the awful bird-catching spiders of south america translated into human form, and endowed with intelligence just less than human, and you will have some faint conception of the terror inspired by the appalling effigy. one remark is universally made by those to whom i have shown the picture: ‘it was drawn from the life.’ as soon as the first shock of his irresistible fright had subsided, dennistoun stole a look at his hosts. the sacristan's hands were pressed upon his eyes; his daughter, looking up at the cross on the wall, was telling her beads feverishly. at last the question was asked, ‘is this book for sale 2" there was the same hesitation, the same plunge of determination, that he had noticed before, and then came the welcome answer, “if monsieur pleases.’ ‘how much do you ask for it?’ “i will take two hundred and fifty francs.” this was confounding. even a collector's conscience is sometimes stirred, and dennis2—2 20 ghost-stories of an antiquary toun's conscience was tenderer than a collector's. “my good man i he said again and again, “your book is worth far more than two hundred and fifty francs, i assure you—far more.’ but the answer did not vary: “i will take two hundred and fifty francs, not more.’ there was really no possibility of refusing such a chance. the money was paid, the receipt signed, a glass of wine drunk over the transaction, and then the sacristan seemed to become a new man. he stood upright, he ceased to throw those suspicious glances behind him, he actually laughed or tried to laugh. dennistoun rose to go. “i shall have the honour of accompanying monsieur to his hotel ?” said the sacristan. “oh no, thanks 1 it isn't a hundred yards. i know the way perfectly, and there is a moon.’ the offer was pressed three or four times, and refused as often. “then, monsieur will summon me if—if he finds occasion; he will keep the middle of the road, the sides are so rough.” canon alberic's scrap-book 21 “certainly, certainly,” said dennistoun, who was impatient to examine his prize by himself; and he stepped out into the passage with his book under his arm. here he was met by the daughter; she, it appeared, was anxious to do a little business on her own account; perhaps, like gehazi, to “take somewhat’ from the foreigner whom her father had spared. “a silver crucifix and chain for the neck; monsieur would perhaps be good enough to accept it?’ well, really, dennistoun hadn't much use for these things. what did mademoiselle want for it? “nothing—nothing in the world. monsieur is more than welcome to it.” the tone in which this and much more was said was unmistakably genuine, so that dennistoun was reduced to profuse thanks, and submitted to have the chain put round his neck. it really seemed as if he had rendered the father and daughter some service which they hardly knew how to repay. as 22 ghost-stories of an antiquary he set off with his book they stood at the door looking after him, and they were still looking when he waved them a last good-night from the steps of the chapeau rouge. dinner was over, and dennistoun was in his bedroom, shut up alone with his acquisition. the landlady had manifested a particular interest in him since he had told her that he had paid a visit to the sacristan and bought an old book from him. he thought, too, that he had heard a hurried dialogue between her and the said sacristan in the passage outside the salle à manger; some words to the effect that ‘pierre and bertrand would be sleeping in the house' had closed the conversation. at this time a growing feeling of discomfort had been creeping over him—nervous reaction, perhaps, after the delight of his discovery. whatever it was, it resulted in a conviction that there was someone behind him, and that he was far more comfortable with his back to the wall. all this, of course, weighed light in the balance as against the obvious value of the collection he had acquired. and now, as i canon alberic's scrap-book 23 said, he was alone in his bedroom, taking stock of canon alberic's treasures, in which every moment revealed something more charming. “bless canon alberic l’ said dennistoun, who had an inveterate habit of talking to himself. ‘i wonder where he is now 2 dear me ! i wish that landlady would learn to laugh in a more cheering manner; it makes one feel as if there was someone dead in the house. half a pipe more, did you say? i think perhaps you are right. i wonder what that crucifix is that the young woman insisted on giving me ! last century, i suppose. yes, probably. it is rather a nuisance of a thing to have round one's neck—just too heavy. most likely her father has been wearing it for years. i think i might give it a clean up before i put it away.” he had taken the crucifix off, and laid it on the table, when his attention was caught by an object lying on the red cloth just by his left elbow. two or three ideas of what it might be flitted through his brain with their own incalculable quickness. 24 ghost-stories of an antiquary “a penwiper ? no, no such thing in the house. a rat 2 no, too black. a large spider ? i trust to goodness not—no. good god! a hand like the hand in that picture i’ in another infinitesimal flash he had taken it in. pale, dusky skin, covering nothing but bones and tendons of appalling strength; coarse black hairs, longer than ever grew on a human hand; nails rising from the ends of the fingers and curving sharply down and forward, gray, horny and wrinkled. he flew out of his chair with deadly, inconceivable terror clutching at his heart. the shape, whose left hand rested on the table, was rising to a standing posture behind his seat, its right hand crooked above his scalp. there was black and tattered drapery about it ; the coarse hair covered it as in the drawing. the lower jaw was thin—what can i call it !—shallow, like a beast's ; teeth showed behind the black lips; there was no nose; the eyes, of a fiery yellow, against which the pupils showed black and intense, and the exulting hate and thirst to destroy life which shone canon alberic's scrap-book 25 there, were the most horrifying feature in the whole vision. there was intelligence of a kind in them—intelligence beyond that of a beast, below that of a man. the feelings which this horror stirred in dennistoun were the intensest physical fear and the most profound mental loathing. what did he do 2 what could he do 2 he has never been quite certain what words he said, but he knows that he spoke, that he grasped blindly at the silver crucifix, that he was conscious of a movement towards him on the part of the demon, and that he screamed with the voice of an animal in hideous pain. pierre and bertrand, the two sturdy little serving-men, who rushed in, saw nothing, but felt themselves thrust aside by something that passed out between them, and found dennistoun in a swoon. they sat up with him that night, and his two friends were at st. bertrand by nine o'clock next morning. he himself though still shaken and nervous, was almost himself by that time, and his story found credence with them, though not until they 26 ghost-stories of an antiquary had seen the drawing and talked with the sacristan. almost at dawn the little man had come to the inn on some pretence, and had listened with the deepest interest to the story retailed by the landlady. he showed no surprise. “it is he—it is he i have seen him myself,’ was his only comment; and to all questionings but one reply was vouchsafed : ‘deux fois je l'ai vu ; mille fois je l'ai senti.” he would tell them nothing of the provenance of the book, nor any details of his experiences. “i shall soon sleep, and my rest will be sweet. why should you trouble me?’ he said.* we shall never know what he or canon alberic de mauléon suffered. at the back of that fateful drawing were some lines of writing which may be supposed to throw light on the situation: * he died that summer; his daughter married, and settled at st. papoul. she never understood the circumstances of her father's “obsession.” *gi?ii] i,,) ial „i, v h„i, ni (in v h gih„i, glxii ‘i (inv h. v *** --------~ canon alberic's scrap-book 27 “contradictio salomonis cum demonio nocturno. albericus de mauleone delineavit. w. deus in adiutorium. ps. qui habitat. sancte bertrande, demoniorum effugator, intercede pro me miserrimo. primum uidi nocte 12mi dec 1694: uidebo mox ultimum. peccaui et passus sum, plura adhuc passurus. dec. 29, 1701.” i have never quite understood what was dennistoun's view of the events i have narrated. he quoted to me once a text from ecclesiasticus: “some spirits there be that are created for vengeance, and in their fury lay on sore strokes.” on another occasion he said: ‘isaiah was a very sensible man; doesn't * i.e., the dispute of solomon with a demon of the night. drawn by alberic de mauléon. versicle. o lord, make haste to help me. psalm. whoso dwelleth (xci.). saint bertrand, who puttest devils to flight, pray for me most unhappy. i saw it first on the night of dec. 12, 1694: soon i shall see it for the last time. i have sinned and suffered, and have more to suffer yet. dec. 29, 1701. the “gallia christiana” gives the date of the canon's death as december 31, 1701, ‘in bed, of a sudden seizure.” details of this kind are not common in the great work of the sammarthani. 28 ghost-stories of an antiquary he say something about night monsters living in the ruins of babylon ? these things are rather beyond us at present.’ another confidence of his impressed me rather, and i sympathized with it. we had been, last year, to comminges, to see canon alberic's tomb. it is a great marble erection with an effigy of the canon in a large wig and soutane, and an elaborate eulogy of his learning below. i saw dennistoun talking for some time with the vicar of st. bertrand's, and as we drove away he said to me: “i hope it isn't wrong: you know i am a presbyterian —but i—i believe there will be “saying of mass and singing of dirges" for alberic de mauléon's rest.” then he added, with a touch of the northern british in his tone, “i had no notion they came so dear.” the book is in the wentworth collection at cambridge. the drawing was photographed and then burnt by dennistoun on the day when he left comminges on the occasion of his first visit. lost hearts _■ *-*=--~~~ ~~ lost hearts it was, as far as i can ascertain, in september of the year 1811 that a postchaise drew up before the door of aswarby hall, in the heart of lincolnshire. the little boy who was the only passenger in the chaise, and who jumped out as soon as it had stopped, looked about him with the keenest curiosity during the short interval that elapsed between the ringing of the bell and the opening of the hall door. he saw a tall, square, red-brick house, built in the reign of anne; a stone-pillared porch had been added in the purer classical style of 1790; the windows of the house were many, tall and narrow, with small panes and thick white woodwork. a pediment, pierced with a round window, crowned the front. there were wings to right and left, connected by curious glazed 31 32 ghost-stories of an antiquary galleries, supported by colonnades, with the central block. these wings plainly contained the stables and offices of the house. each was surmounted by an ornamental cupola with a gilded vane. an evening light shone on the building, making the window-panes glow like so many fires. away from the hall in front stretched a flat park studded with oaks and fringed with firs, which stood out against the sky. the clock in the church-tower, buried in trees on the edge of the park, only its golden weathercock catching the light, was striking six, and the sound came gently beating down the wind. it was altogether a pleasant impression, though tinged with the sort of melancholy appropriate to an evening in early autumn, that was conveyed to the mind of the boy who was standing in the porch waiting for the door to open to him. he had just come from warwickshire, and some six months ago had been left an orphan. now, owing to the generous and unexpected offer of his elderly cousin, mr. abney, he had lost hearts 33 come to live at aswarby. the offer was unexpected, because all who knew anything of mr. abney looked upon him as a somewhat austere recluse, into whose steady-going household the advent of a small boy would import a new and, it seemed, incongruous element. the truth is that very little was known of mr. abney’s pursuits or temper. the professor of greek at cambridge had been heard to say that no one knew more of the religious beliefs of the later pagans than did the owner of aswarby. certainly his library contained all the then available books bearing on the mysteries, the orphic poems, the worship of mithras, and the neo-platonists. in the marble-paved hall stood a fine group of mithras slaying a bull, which had been imported from the levant at great expense by the owner. he had contributed a description of it to the gentleman's magazine, and he had written a remarkable series of articles in the critical museum on the superstitions of the romans of the lower empire. he was looked upon, in fine, as a man wrapped up in 3 34 ghost-stories of an antiquary his books, and it was a matter of great surprise among his neighbours that he should ever have heard of his orphan cousin, stephen elliott, much more that he should have volunteered to make him an inmate of aswarby hall. whatever may have been expected by his neighbours, it is certain that mr. abney—the tall, the thin, the austere—seemed inclined to give his young cousin a kindly reception. the moment the front-door was opened he darted out of his study, rubbing his hands with delight. ‘how are you, my boy 7–how are you ? how old are you?” said he—‘that is, you are not too much tired, i hope, by your journey to eat your supper ?" ‘no, thank you, sir,’ said master elliott; ‘i am pretty well.’ ‘that's a good lad,” said mr. abney. “and how old are you, my boy £ it seemed a little odd that he should have asked the question twice in the first two minutes of their acquaintance. lost hearts 35 “i’m twelve years old next birthday, sir,’ said stephen. “and when is your birthday, my dear boy eleventh of september, eh? that's well— that's very well. nearly a year hence, isn't it i like—ha, ha!—i like to get these things down in my book. sure it's twelve 2 certain ż’ ‘yes, quite sure, sir.’ “well, well ! take him to mrs. bunch's room, parkes, and let him have his tea— supper—whatever it is.’ ‘yes, sir,’ answered the staid mr. parkes ; and conducted stephen to the lower regions. mrs. bunch was the most comfortable and human person whom stephen had as yet met in aswarby. she made him completely at home; they were great friends in a quarter of an hour: and great friends they remained. mrs. bunch had been born in the neighbourhood some fifty-five years before the date of stephen's arrival, and her residence at the hall was of twenty years' standing. consequently, if anyone knew the ins and outs 3–2 36 ghost-stories of an antiquary of the house and the district, mrs. bunch knew them ; and she was by no means disinclined to communicate her information. certainly there were plenty of things about the hall and the hall gardens which stephen, who was of an adventurous and inquiring turn, was anxious to have explained to him. “who built the temple at the end of the laurel walk? who was the old man whose picture hung on the staircase, sitting at a table, with a skull under his hand 3’ these and many similar points were cleared up by the resources of mrs. bunch's powerful intellect. there were others, however, of which the explanations furnished were less satisfactory. one november evening stephen was sitting by the fire in the housekeeper's room reflecting on his surroundings. “is mr. abney a good man, and will he go to heaven?' he suddenly asked, with the peculiar confidence which children possess in the ability of their elders to settle these questions, the decision of which is believed to be reserved for other tribunals. lost hearts 37 * good 2–bless the child !” said mrs. bunch. “master's as kind a soul as ever i see l didn't i never tell you of the little boy as he took in out of the street, as you may say, this seven years back? and the little girl, two years after i first come here 2' ‘no. do tell me all about them, mrs. bunch—now this minute l’ “well,” said mrs. bunch, “the little girl i don’t seem to recollect so much about. i know master brought her back with him from his walk one day, and give orders to mrs. ellis, as was housekeeper then, as she should be took every care with. and the pore child hadn't no one belonging to her—she telled me so her own self—and here she lived with us a matter of three weeks it might be; and then, whether she were somethink of a gipsy in her blood or what not, but one morning she out of her bed afore any of us had opened a eye and neither track nor yet trace of her have i set eyes on since. master was wonderful put about, and had all the ponds dragged ; but it's my belief she was had away by them 38 ghost-stories of an antiquary gipsies, for there was singing round the house for as much as an hour the night she went, and parkes, he declare as he heard them a-calling in the woods all that afternoon. dear, dear! a hodd child she was, so silent in her ways and all, but i was wonderful taken up with her, so domesticated she was—surprising.’ “and what about the little boy’ said stephen. “ah, that pore boyſ' sighed mrs. bunch. ‘he were a foreigner—jevanny he called hisself—and he come a-tweaking his 'urdy-gurdy round and about the drive one winter day, and master ad him in that minute, and ast all about where he came from, and how old he was, and how he made his way, and where was his relatives, and all as kind as heart could wish. but it went the same way with him. they're a hunruly lot, them foreign nations, i do suppose, and he was off one fine morning just the same as the girl. why he went and what he done was our question for as much as a year after ; for he never took lost hearts 39 his 'urdy-gurdy, and there it lays on the shelf.” the remainder of the evening was spent by stephen in miscellaneous cross-examination of mrs. bunch and in efforts to extract a tune from the hurdy-gurdy. that night he had a curious dream. at the end of the passage at the top of the house, in which his bedroom was situated, there was an old disused bathroom. it was kept locked, but the upper half of the door was glazed, and, since the muslin curtains which used to hang there had long been gone, you could look in and see the lead-lined bath affixed to the wall on the right hand, with its head towards the window. on the night of which i am speaking, stephen elliott found himself, as he thought, looking through the glazed door. the moon was shining through the window, and he was gazing at a figure which lay in the bath. his description of what he saw reminds me of what i once beheld myself in the famous vaults of st. michan's church in dublin, which 40 ghost-stories of an antiquary possess the horrid property of preserving corpses from decay for centuries. a figure inexpressibly thin and pathetic, of a dusty leaden colour, enveloped in a shroud-like garment, the thin lips crooked into a faint and dreadful smile, the hands pressed tightly over the region of the heart. as he looked upon it, a distant, almost inaudible moan seemed to issue from its lips, and the arms began to stir. the terror of the sight forced stephen backwards, and he awoke to the fact that he was indeed standing on the cold boarded floor of the passage in the full light of the moon. with a courage which i do not think can be common among boys of his age, he went to the door of the bathroom to ascertain if the figure of his dream were really there. it was not, and he went back to bed. mrs. bunch was much impressed next morning by his story, and went so far as to replace the muslin curtain over the glazed door of the bathroom. mr. abney, moreover, to whom he confided his experiences at breakfast, was lost hearts 41 greatly interested, and made notes of the matter in what he called ‘ his book.’ the spring equinox was approaching, as mr. abney frequently reminded his cousin, adding that this had been always considered by the ancients to be a critical time for the young: that stephen would do well to take care of himself, and to shut his bedroom window at night; and that censorinus had some valuable remarks on the subject. two incidents that occurred about this time made an impression upon stephen's mind. the first was after an unusually uneasy and oppressed night that he had passed—though he could not recall any particular dream that he had had. the following evening mrs. bunch was occupying herself in mending his nightgown. ‘ gracious me, master stephen i she broke forth rather irritably, “how do you manage to tear your nightdress all to flinders this way ? look here, sir, what trouble you do give to poor servants that have to darn and mend after you!” 42 ghost-stories of an antiquary there was indeed a most destructive and apparently wanton series of slits or scorings in the garment, which would undoubtedly require a skilful needle to make good. they were confined to the left side of the chest—long, parallel slits, about six inches in length, some of them not quite piercing the texture of the linen. stephen could only express his entire ignorance of their origin: he was sure they were not there the night before. “but,’ he said, “mrs. bunch, they are just the same as the scratches on the outside of my bedroom door; and i’m sure i never had anything to do with making them.’ mrs. bunch gazed at him open-mouthed, then snatched up a candle, departed hastily from the room, and was heard making her way upstairs. in a few minutes she came down. “well, she said, “master stephen, it's a funny thing to me how them marks and scratches can 'a' come there—too high up for any cat or dog to 'ave made 'em, much less a rat: for all the world like a chinaman's fingernails, as my uncle in the tea-trade used to tell lost hearts 43 us of when we was girls together. i wouldn't say nothing to master, not if i was you, master stephen, my dear; and just turn the key of the door when you go to your bed.’ ‘i always do, mrs. bunch, as soon as i’ve said my prayers.” “ah, that's a good child: always say your prayers, and then no one can't hurt you.’ herewith mrs. bunch addressed herself to mending the injured nightgown, with intervals of meditation, until bed-time. this was on a friday night in march, 1812. on the following evening the usual duet of stephen and mrs. bunch was augmented by the sudden arrival of mr. parkes, the butler, who as a rule kept himself rather to himself in his own pantry. he did not see that stephen was there: he was, moreover, flustered and less slow of speech than was his wont. ‘master may get up his own wine, if he likes, of an evening,’ was his first remark. “either i do it in the daytime or not at all, mrs. bunch. i don't know what it may be: 44 ghost-stories of an antiquary very like it's the rats, or the wind got into the cellars; but i'm not so young as i was, and i can't go through with it as i have done.’ “well, mr. parkes, you know it is a surprising place for the rats, is the hall.” “i’m not denying that, mrs. bunch; and, to be sure, many a time i’ve heard the tale from the men in the shipyards about the rat that could speak. i never laid no confidence in that before; but to-night, if i’d demeaned myself to lay my ear to the door of the further bin, i could pretty much have heard what they was saying.’ ‘oh, there, mr. parkes, i've no patience with your fancies rats talking in the winecellar indeed '' “well, mrs. bunch, i’ve no wish to argue with you : all i say is, if you choose to go to the far bin, and lay your ear to the door, you may prove my words this minute.’ “what nonsense you do talk, mr. parkes —not fit for children to listen to ! why, you'll be frightening master stephen there out of his wits.” lost hearts 45 ‘what i master stephen º' said parkes, awaking to the consciousness of the boy's presence. ‘master stephen knows well enough when i'm a-playing a joke with you, mrs. bunch.” in fact, master stephen knew much too well to suppose that mr. parkes had in the first instance intended a joke. he was interested, not altogether pleasantly, in the situation; but all his questions were unsuccessful in inducing the butler to give any more detailed account of his experiences in the wine-cellar. we have now arrived at march 24, 1812. it was a day of curious experiences for stephen : a windy, noisy day, which filled the house and the gardens with a restless impression. as stephen stood by the fence of the grounds, and looked out into the park, he felt as if an endless procession of unseen people were sweeping past him on the wind, borne on resistlessly and aimlessly, vainly striving to stop themselves, to catch at something that 46 ghost-stories of an antiquary might arrest their flight and bring them once again into contact with the living world of which they had formed a part. after luncheon that day mr. abney said: “stephen, my boy, do you think you could manage to come to me to-night as late as eleven o'clock in my study ? i shall be busy until that time, and i wish to show you some-thing connected with your future life which it is most important that you should know. you are not to mention this matter to mrs. bunch nor to anyone else in the house; and you had better go to your room at the usual time.” here was a new excitement added to life: stephen eagerly grasped at the opportunity of sitting up till eleven o'clock. he looked in at the library door on his way upstairs that evening, and saw a brazier, which he had often noticed in the corner of the room, moved out before the fire; an old silver-gilt cup stood on the table, filled with red wine, and some written sheets of paper lay near it. mr. abney was sprinkling some incense on the brazier from lost hearts 47 a round silver box as stephen passed, but did not seem to notice his step. the wind had fallen, and there was a still night and a full moon. at about ten o'clock stephen was standing at the open window of his bedroom, looking out over the country. still as the night was, the mysterious population of the distant moonlit woods was not yet lulled to rest. from time to time strange cries as of lost and despairing wanderers sounded from across the mere. they might be the notes of owls or water-birds, yet they did not quite resemble either sound. were not they coming nearer? now they sounded from the nearer side of the water, and in a few moments they seemed to be floating about among the shrubberies. then they ceased; but just as stephen was thinking of shutting the window and resuming his reading of “robinson crusoe, he caught sight of two figures standing on the gravelled terrace that ran along the garden side of the hall—the figures of a boy and girl, as it seemed; they stood side by side, looking up at the windows. something in 48 ghost-stories of an antiquary the form of the girl recalled irresistibly his dream of the figure in the bath. the boy inspired him with more acute fear. whilst the girl stood still, half smiling, with her hands clasped over her heart, the boy, a thin shape, with black hair and ragged clothing, raised his arms in the air with an appearance of menace and of unappeasable hunger and longing. the moon shone upon his almost transparent hands, and stephen saw that the nails were fearfully long and that the light shone through them. as he stood with his arms thus raised, he disclosed a terrifying spectacle. on the left side of his chest there opened a black and gaping rent; and there fell upon stephen's brain, rather than upon his ear, the impression of one of those hungry and desolate cries that he had heard resounding over the woods of aswarby all that evening. in another moment this dreadful pair had moved swiftly and noiselessly over the dry gravel, and he saw them no more. inexpressibly frightened as he was, he determined to take his candle and go down to lost hearts 49 mr. abney's study, for the hour appointed for their meeting was near at hand. the study or library opened out of the front-hall on one side, and stephen, urged on by his terrors, did not take long in getting there. to effect an entrance was not so easy. it was not locked, he felt sure, for the key was on the outside of the door as usual. his repeated knocks produced no answer. mr. abney was engaged: he was speaking. what i why did he try to cry out? and why was the cry choked in his throat º had he, too, seen the mysterious children but now everything was quiet, and the door yielded to stephen's terrified and frantic pushing. 3% 3% 3% :}; :}; on the table in mr. abney's study certain papers were found which explained the situation to stephen elliott when he was of an age to understand them. the most important sentences were as follows: “it was a belief very strongly and generally held by the ancients—of whose wisdom in these matters i have had such experience as 4. 50 ghost-stories of an antiquary induces me to place confidence in their assertions—that by enacting certain processes, which to us moderns have something of a barbaric complexion, a very remarkable enlightenment of the spiritual faculties in man may be attained: that, for example, by absorbing the personalities of a certain number of his fellow-creatures, an individual may gain a complete ascendancy over those orders of spiritual beings which control the elemental forces of our universe. ‘it is recorded of simon magus that he was able to fly in the air, to become invisible, or to assume any form he pleased, by the agency of the soul of a boy whom, to use the libellous phrase employed by the author of the “clementine recognitions,” he had “murdered.” i find it set down, moreover, with considerable detail in the writings of hermes trismegistus, that similar happy results may be produced by the absorption of the hearts of not less than three human beings below the age of twentyone years. to the testing of the truth of this receipt i have devoted the greater part of the last twenty years, selecting as the corpora vilia lost hearts 51 of my experiment such persons as could conveniently be removed without occasioning a sensible gap in society. the first step i effected by the removal of one phoebe stanley, a girl of gipsy extraction, on march 24, 1792. the second, by the removal of a wandering italian lad, named giovanni paoli, on the night of march 23, 1805. the final “victim" —to employ a word repugnant in the highest degree to my feelings—must be my cousin, stephen elliott. his day must be this march 24, 1812. “the best means of effecting the required absorption is to remove the heart from the living subject, to reduce it to ashes, and to mingle them with about a pint of some red wine, preferably port. the remains of the first two subjects, at least, it will be well to conceal : a disused bath-room or wine-cellar will be found convenient for such a purpose. some annoyance may be experienced from the psychic portion of the subjects, which popular language dignifies with the name of ghosts. but the man of philosophic temperament—to 4—2 52 ghost-stories of an antiquary whom alone the experiment is appropriate— will be little prone to attach importance to the feeble efforts of these beings to wreak their vengeance on him. i contemplate with the liveliest satisfaction the enlarged and emancipated existence which the experiment, if successful, will confer on me; not only placing me beyond the reach of human justice (socalled), but eliminating to a great extent the prospect of death itself.” mr. abney was found in his chair, his head thrown back, his face stamped with an expression of rage, fright, and mortal pain. in his left side was a terrible lacerated wound, exposing the heart. there was no blood on his hands, and a long knife that lay on the table was perfectly clean. a savage wild-cat might have inflicted the injuries. the window of the study was open, and it was the opinion of the coroner that mr. abney had met his death by the agency of some wild creature. but stephen elliott's study of the papers i have quoted led him to a very different conclusion. the mezzotint the mezzotint some time ago i believe i had the pleasure of telling you the story of an adventure which happened to a friend of mine by the name of dennistoun, during his pursuit of objects of art for the museum at cambridge. he did not publish his experiences very widely upon his return to england; but they could not fail to become known to a good many of his friends, and among others to the gentleman who at that time presided over an art museum at another university. it was to be expected that the story should make a considerable impression on the mind of a man whose vocation lay in lines similar to dennistoun's, and that he should be eager to catch at any explanation of the matter which tended to make it seem improbable that he should ever 55 56 ghost-stories of an antiquary be called upon to deal with so agitating an emergency. it was,indeed, somewhat consoling to him to reflect that he was not expected to agguire ancient mss. for his institution; that was the business of the shelburnian library. . the authorities of that institution might, if they pleased, ransack obscure corners of the continent for such matters. he was glad to be obliged at the moment to confine his attention to enlarging the already unsurpassed collection of english topographical drawings and engravings possessed by his museum. yet, as it turned out, even a department so homely and familiar as this may have its dark corners, and to one of these mr. williams was unexpectedly introduced. those who have taken even the most limited interest in the acquisition of topographical pictures are aware that there is one london dealer whose aid is indispensable to their researches. mr. j. w. britnell publishes at short intervals very admirable catalogues of a large and constantly changing stock of engravings, plans, and old sketches of manthe mezzotint 57 sions, churches, and towns in england and wales. these catalogues were, of course, the abc of his subject to mr. williams: but as his museum already contained an enormous accumulation of topographical pictures, he was a regular, rather than a copious, buyer; and he rather looked to mr. britnell to fill up gaps in the rank and file of his collection than to supply him with rarities. now, in february of last year there appeared upon mr. williams' desk at the museum a catalogue from mr. britnell's emporium, and accompanying it was a typewritten communication from the dealer himself. this latter ran as follows: * dear sir, ‘we beg to call your attention to no. 978 in our accompanying catalogue, which we shall be glad to send on approval. ‘yours faithfully, ‘j. w. britnell.’ to turn to no. 978 in the accompanying 58 ghost-stories of an antiquary catalogue was with mr. williams (as he observed to himself) the work of a moment, and in the place indicated he found the following entry: ‘978.-unknown. interesting mezzotint: view of a manor-house, early part of the century. 15 by 10 inches; black frame. £2 2s.’ it was not specially exciting, and the price seemed high. however, as mr. britnell, who knew his business and his customer, seemed to set store by it, mr. williams wrote a postcard asking for the article to be sent on approval, along with some other engravings and sketches which appeared in the same catalogue. and so he passed without much excitement of anticipation to the ordinary labours of the day. a parcel of any kind always arrives a day later than you expect it, and that of mr. britnell proved, as i believe the right phrase goes, no exception to the rule. it was delivered at the museum by the afternoon post of saturday, after mr. williams had left his work, and it was accordingly brought round to his rooms in college by the attendant, in order the mezzotint 59 that he might not have to wait over sunday before looking through it and returning such of the contents as he did not propose to keep. and here he found it when he came in to tea, with a friend. the only item with which i am concerned was the rather large, black-framed mezzotint of which i have already quoted the short description given in mr. britnell's catalogue. some more details of it will have to be given, though i cannot hope to put before you the look of the picture as clearly as it is present to my own eye. very nearly the exact duplicate of it may be seen in a good many old inn parlours, or in the passages of undisturbed country mansions at the present moment. it was a rather indifferent mezzotint, and an indifferent mezzotint is, perhaps, the worst form of engraving known. it presented a full-face view of a not very large manorhouse of the last century, with three rows of plain sashed windows with rusticated masonry about them, a parapet with balls or vases at the angles, and a small portico in the centre. 60 ghost-stories of an antiquary on either side were trees, and in front a considerable expanse of lawn. the legend “a. w. f. sculpsit” was engraved on the narrow margin; and there was no further inscription. the whole thing gave the impression that it was the work of an amateur. what in the world mr. britnell could mean by affixing the price of £2 2s. to such an object was more than mr. williams could imagine. he turned it over with a good deal of contempt; upon the back was a paper label, the left-hand half of which had been torn off. all that remained were the ends of two lines of writing: the first had the letters —ngley hall; the second, —ss60?. it would, perhaps, be just worth while to identify the place represented, which he could easily do with the help of a gazetteer, and then he would send it back to mr. britnell, with some remarks reflecting upon the judgment of that gentleman. he lighted the candles, for it was now dark, made the tea, and supplied the friend with whom he had been playing golf (for i believe the mezzotint 61 the authorities of the university i write of indulge in that pursuit by way of relaxation); and tea was taken to the accompaniment of a discussion which golfing persons can imagine for themselves, but which the conscientious writer has no right to inflict upon any nongolfing persons. the conclusion arrived at was that certain strokes might have been better, and that in certain emergencies neither player had experienced that amount of luck which a human being has a right to expect. it was now that the friend — let us call him professor binks—took up the framed engraving, and said: ‘what's this place, williams ? “just what i am going to try to find out,’ said williams, going to the shelf for a gazetteer. “look at the back. somethingley hall, either in sussex or essex. half the name's gone, you see. you don't happen to know it, i suppose ? “it's from that man britnell, i suppose, isn’t it !” said binks. “is it for the museum ? 62 ghost stories of an antiquary “well, i think i should buy it if the price was five shillings,’ said williams; “but for some unearthly reason he wants two guineas for it. i can't conceive why. it's a wretched engraving, and there aren't even any figures to give it life.” ‘it’s not worth two guineas, i should think,’ said binks; “but i don't think it's so badly done. the moonlight seems rather good to me; and i should have thought there were figures, or at least a figure, just on the edge in front.’ “let’s look,” said williams. ‘well, it's true the light is rather cleverly given. where's your figure ? oh yes! just the head, in the very front of the picture.’ and indeed there was—hardly more than a black blot on the extreme edge of the engraving—the head of a man or woman, a good deal muffled up, the back turned to the spectator, and looking towards the house. williams had not noticed it before. ‘still,’ he said, ‘though it's a cleverer thing than i thought, i can't spend two guineas of the mezzotint 63 museum money on a picture of a place i don't know.’ professor binks had his work to do, and soon went; and very nearly up to hall time williams was engaged in a vain attempt to identify the subject of his picture. ‘if the vowel before the ng had only been left, it would have been easy enough, he thought; ‘but as it is, the name may be anything from guestingley to langley, and there are many more names ending like this than i thought; and this rotten book has no index of terminations.” hall in mr. williams's college was at seven. it need not be dwelt upon; the less so as he met there colleagues who had been playing golf during the afternoon, and words with which we have no concern were freely bandied across the table—merely golfing words, i would hasten to explain. i suppose an hour or more to have been spent in what is called common-room after dinner. later in the evening some few retired to williams's room, and i have little doubt that whist was played and tobacco smoked. 64 ghost-stories of an antiquary during a lull in these operations williams picked up the mezzotint from the table without looking at it, and handed it to a person mildly interested in art, telling him where it had come from, and the other particulars which we already know. the gentleman took it carelessly, looked at it, then said, in a tone of some interest: “it's really a very good piece of work, williams; it has quite a feeling of the romantic period. the light is admirably managed, it seems to me, and the figure, though it's rather too grotesque, is somehow very impressive.’ ‘yes, isn't it º' said williams, who was just then busy giving whisky-and-soda to others of the company, and was unable to come across the room to look at the view again. it was by this time rather late in the evening, and the visitors were on the move. after they went williams was obliged to write a letter or two and clear up some odd bits of work. at last, some time past midnight, he was disposed to turn in, and he put out his lamp after lighting his bedroom candle. the the mezzotint 65 picture lay face upwards on the table where the last man who looked at it had put it, and it caught his eye as he turned the lamp down. what he saw made him very nearly drop the candle on the floor, and he declares now that if he had been left in the dark at that moment he would have had a fit. but, as that did not happen, he was able to put down the light on the table and take a good look at the picture. it was indubitable—rankly impossible, no doubt, but absolutely certain. in the middle of the lawn in front of the unknown house there was a figure where no figure had been at five o'clock that afternoon. it was crawling on all-fours towards the house, and it was muffled in a strange black garment with a white cross on the back. i do not know what is the ideal course to pursue in a situation of this kind. i can only tell you what mr. williams did. he took the picture by one corner and carried it across the passage to a second set of rooms which he possessed. there he locked it up in a drawer, sported the doors of both sets of rooms, and 5 66 ghost-stories of an antiquary retired to bed; but first he wrote out and signed an account of the extraordinary change which the picture had undergone since it had come into his possession. sleep visited him rather late; but it was consoling to reflect that the behaviour of the picture did not depend upon his own unsupported testimony. evidently the man who had looked at it the night before had seen something of the same kind as he had, otherwise he might have been tempted to think that something gravely wrong was happening either to his eyes or his mind. this possibility being fortunately precluded, two matters awaited him on the morrow. he must take stock of the picture very carefully, and call in a witness for the purpose, and he must make a determined effort to ascertain what house it was that was represented. he would therefore ask his neighbour nisbet to breakfast with him, and he would subsequently spend a morning over the gazetteer. nisbet was disengaged, and arrived about 9.30. his host was not quite dressed, i am the mezzotint 67 sorry to say, even at this late hour. during breakfast nothing was said about the mezzotint by williams, save that he had a picture on which he wished for nisbet's opinion. but those who are familiar with university life can picture for themselves the wide and delightful range of subjects over which the conversation of two fellows of canterbury college is likely to extend during a sunday morning breakfast. hardly a topic was left unchallenged, from golf to lawn-tennis. yet i am bound to say that williams was rather distraught; for his interest naturally centred in that very strange picture which was now reposing, face downwards, in the drawer in the room opposite. the morning pipe was at last lighted, and the moment had arrived for which he looked. with very considerable—almost tremulous— excitement, he ran across, unlocked the drawer, and, extracting the picture—still face downwards—ran back, and put it into nisbet's hands. ‘now,’ he said, ‘nisbet, i want you to tell 5—2 68 ghost-stories of an antiquary me exactly what you see in that picture. describe it, if you don't mind, rather minutely. i'll tell you why afterwards.’ “well,” said nisbet, “i have here a view of a country-house—english, i presume—by moonlight.” “moonlight? you're sure of that?' “certainly. the moon appears to be on the wane, if you wish for details, and there are clouds in the sky.’ “all right. go on. i’ll swear,’ added williams in an aside, “there was no moon when i saw it first.’ “well, there's not much more to be said,' nisbet continued. “the house has one—two —three rows of windows, five in each row, except at the bottom, where there's a porch instead of the middle one, and 2 “but what about figures º' said williams, with marked interest. “there aren't any,’ said nisbet; “but “what l no figure on the grass in front ?’ “not a thing.’ ‘you’ll swear to that ?" 3. the mezzotint 69 “certainly i will. but there's just one other thing.’ “what?” “why, one of the windows on the groundfloor—left of the door—is open.’ “is it really so z my goodness he must have got in,’ said williams, with great excitement; and he hurried to the back of the sofa on which nisbet was sitting, and, catching the picture from him, verified the matter for himself. it was quite true. there was no figure, and there was the open window. williams, after a moment of speechless surprise, went to the writing-table and scribbled for a short time. then he brought two papers to nisbet, and asked him first to sign one—it was his own description of the picture, which you have just heard—and then to read the other, which was williams's statement written the night before. “what can it all mean º' said nisbet. “exactly,” said williams. ‘well, one thing i must do—or three things, now i think of it. i must find out from garwood’—this was his 70 ghost-stories of an antiquary last night's visitor—‘what he saw, and then i must get the thing photographed before it goes further. and then i must find out what the place is.’ ‘i can do the photographing myself,' said nisbet, “and i will. but, you know, it looks very much as if we were assisting at the working out of a tragedy somewhere. the question is, has it happened already, or is it going to come off? you must find out what the place is. yes,’ he said, looking at the picture again, “i expect you're right: he has got in. and if i don't mistake there'll be the devil to pay in one of the rooms upstairs.” “i’ll tell you what,' said williams: “i’ll take the picture across to old green’ (this was the senior fellow of the college, who had been bursar for many years). “it’s quite likely he'll know it. we have property in essex and sussex, and he must have been over the two counties a lot in his time.” ‘quite likely he will,’ said nisbet ; “but just let me take my photograph first. but look here, i rather think green isn't up to-day. the mezzotint 71 he wasn't in hall last night, and i think i heard him say he was going down for the sunday.” ‘that's true, too,” said williams; “i know he's gone to brighton. well, if you'll photograph it now, i'll go across to garwood and get his statement, and you keep an eye on it while i’m gone. i’m beginning to think two guineas is not a very exorbitant price for it now.’ in a short time he had returned, and brought mr. garwood with him. garwood's statement was to the effect that the figure, when he had seen it, was clear of the edge of the picture, but had not got far across the lawn. he remembered a white mark on the back of its drapery, but could not have been sure it was a cross. a document to this effect was then drawn up and signed, and nisbet proceeded to photograph the picture. ‘now what do you mean to do?’ he said. “are you going to sit and watch it all day ? “well, no, i think not,” said williams. “i rather imagine we're meant to see the whole 72 ghost-stories of an antiquary thing. you see, between the time i saw it last night and this morning there was time for lots of things to happen, but the creature only got into the house. it could easily have got through its business in the time and gone to its own place again; but the fact of the window being open, i think, must mean that it's in there now. so i feel quite easy about leaving it. and, besides, i have a kind of idea that it wouldn't change much, if at all, in the daytime. we might go out for a walk this afternoon, and come in to tea, or whenever it gets dark. i shall leave it out on the table here, and sport the door. my skip can get in, but no one else.” the three agreed that this would be a good plan; and, further, that if they spent the afternoon together they would be less likely to talk about the business to other people; for any rumour of such a transaction as was going on would bring the whole of the phasmatological society about their ears. we may give them a respite until five o'clock. the mezzotint 73 at or near that hour the three were entering williams's staircase. they were at first slightly annoyed to see that the door of his rooms was unsported; but in a moment it was remembered that on sunday the skips came for orders an hour or so earlier than on weekdays. however, a surprise was awaiting them. the first thing they saw was the picture leaning up against a pile of books on the table, as it had been left, and the next thing was williams's skip, seated on a chair opposite, gazing at it with undisguised horror. how was this mr. filcher (the name is not my own invention) was a servant of considerable standing, and set the standard of etiquette to all his own college and to several neighbouring ones, and nothing could be more alien to his practice than to be found sitting on his master's chair, or appearing to take any particular notice of his master's furniture or pictures. indeed, he seemed to feel this himself. he started violently when the three men were in the room, and got up with a marked effort. then he said: 74 ghost-stories of an antiquary ‘i ask your pardon, sir, for taking such a freedom as to set down.” “not at all, robert,’ interposed mr. williams. “i was meaning to ask you some time what you thought of that picture.” “well, sir, of course i don't set up my opinion again yours, but it ain't the pictur i should 'ang where my little girl could see it, sir.’ ‘wouldn't you, robert : why not ?’ ‘no, sir. why, the pore child, i recollect once she see a door bible, with pictures not 'alf what that is, and we 'ad to set up with her three or four nights afterwards, if you'll believe me; and if she was to ketch a sight of this skelinton here, or whatever it is, carrying off the pore baby, she would be in a taking. you know 'ow it is with children; 'ow nervish they git with a little thing and all. but what i should say, it don't seem a right pictur to be laying about, sir, not where anyone that's liable to be startled could come on it. should you be wanting anything this evening, sir? thank you, sir.’ with these words the excellent man went the mezzotint 75 to continue the round of his masters, and you may be sure the gentlemen whom he left lost no time in gathering round the engraving. there was the house, as before, under the waning moon and the drifting clouds. the window that had been open was shut, and the figure was once more on the lawn : but not this time crawling cautiously on hands and knees. now it was erect and stepping swiftly, with long strides, towards the front of the picture. the moon was behind it, and the black drapery hung down over its face so that only hints of that could be seen, and what was visible made the spectators profoundly thankful that they could see no more than a white dome-like forehead and a few straggling hairs. the head was bent down, and the arms were tightly clasped over an object which could be dimly seen and identified as a child, whether dead or living it was not possible to say. the legs of the appearance alone could be plainly discerned, and they were horribly thin. from five to seven the three companions sat and watched the picture by turns. but 76 ghost-stories of an antiquary it never changed. they agreed at last that it would be safe to leave it, and that they would return after hall and await further developments. when they assembled again, at the earliest possible moment, the engraving was there, but the figure was gone, and the house was quiet under the moonbeams. there was nothing for it but to spend the evening over gazetteers and guide-books. williams was the lucky one at last, and perhaps he deserved it. at 11.30 p.m. he read from murray's guide to essea, the following lines: ‘16% miles, anningley. the church has been an interesting building of norman date, but was extensively classicized in the last century. it contains the tomb of the family of francis, whose mansion, anningley hall, a solid queen anne house, stands immediately beyond the churchyard in a park of about 80 acres. the family is now extinct, the last heir having disappeared mysteriously in infancy in the year 1802. the father, mr. arthur francis, was locally known as a talented the mezzotint 77 amateur engraver in mezzotint. after his son's disappearance he lived in complete retirement at the hall, and was found dead in his studio on the third anniversary of the disaster, having just completed an engraving of the house, impressions of which are of considerable rarity.’ this looked like business, and, indeed, mr. green on his return at once identified the house as anningley hall. ‘is there any kind of explanation of the figure, green?' was the question which williams naturally asked. “i don’t know, i’m sure, williams. what used to be said in the place when i first knew it, which was before i came up here, was just this: old francis was always very much down on these poaching fellows, and whenever he got a chance he used to get a man whom he suspected of it turned off the estate, and by degrees he got rid of them all but one. squires could do a lot of things then that they daren't think of now. well, this man that was left was what you find pretty often 78 ghost-stories of an antiquary in that country—the last remains of a very old family. i believe they were lords of the manor at one time. i recollect just the same thing in my own parish.’ ‘what, like the man in tess o' the durbervilles º' williams put in. ‘yes, i dare say; it's not a book i could ever read myself. but this fellow could show a row of tombs in the church there that belonged to his ancestors, and all that went to sour him a bit; but francis, they said, could never get at him—he always kept just on the right side of the law—until one night the keepers found him at it in a wood right at the end of the estate. i could show you the place now; it marches with some land that used to belong to an uncle of mine. and you can imagine there was a row; and this man gawdy (that was the name, to be sure—gawdy; i thought i should get it—gawdy), he was unlucky enough, poor chap ! to shoot a keeper. well, that was what francis wanted, and grand juries—you know what they would have been then—and poor gawdy was strung up in the mezzotint 79 double-quick time; and i’ve been shown the place he was buried in, on the north side of the church—you know the way in that part of the world: anyone that's been hanged or made away with themselves, they bury them that side. and the idea that there was some friend of gawdy's—not a relation, because he had none, poor devil! he was the last of his line: kind of spes ultima gentis—must have planned to get hold of francis's boy and put an end to his line, too. i don't know—it's rather an out-of-the-way thing for an essex poacher to think of—but, you know, i should say now it looks more as if old gawdy had managed the job himself. booh! i hate to think of it ! have some whisky, williams i' the facts were communicated by williams to dennistoun, and by him to a mixed company, of which i was one, and the sadducean professor of ophiology another. i am sorry to say that the latter, when asked what he thought of it, only remarked: “oh, those bridgeford people will say anything’—a sentiment which met with the reception it deserved 80 ghost-stories of an antiquary i have only to add that the picture is now in the ashleian museum; that it has been treated with a view to discovering whether sympathetic ink has been used in it, but without effect; that mr. britnell knew nothing of it save that he was sure it was uncommon; and that, though carefully watched, it has never been known to change again. the ash-tree 81 -^ ' -*-， *， -* * （~ ~ ~--~ the ash-tree everyone who has travelled over eastern england knows the smaller country-houses with which it is studded—the rather dank little buildings, usually in the italian style, surrounded with parks of some eighty to a hundred acres. for me they have always had a very strong attraction: with the gray paling of split oak, the noble trees, the meres with their reed beds, and the line of distant woods. then, i like the pillared portico— perhaps stuck on to a red-brick queen anne house which has been faced with stucco to bring it into line with the “grecian’ taste of the end of the eighteenth century; the hall inside, going up to the roof, which hall ought always to be provided with a gallery and a small organ. i like the library, too, where 83 6–2 84 ghost-stories of an antiquary you may find anything from a psalter of the thirteenth century to a shakespeare quarto. i like the pictures, of course; and perhaps most of all i like fancying what life in such a house was when it was first built, and in the piping times of landlords' prosperity, and not least now, when, if money is not so plentiful, taste is more varied and life quite as interesting. i wish to have one of these houses, and enough money to keep it together and entertain my friends in it modestly. but this is a digression. i have to tell you of a curious series of events which happened in such a house as i have tried to describe. it is castringham hall in suffolk. i think a good deal has been done to the building since the period of my story, but the essential features i have sketched are still there— italian portico, square block of white house, older inside than out, park with fringe of woods, and mere. the one feature that marked out the house from a score of others is gone. as you looked at it from the park, you saw on the right a great old ash-tree the ash-tree 85 growing within half a dozen yards of the wall, and almost or quite touching the building with its branches. i suppose it had stood there ever since castringham ceased to be a fortified place, and since the moat was filled in and the elizabethan dwelling-house built. at any rate, it had well-nigh attained its full dimensions in the year 1690. in that year the district in which the hall is situated was the scene of a number of witch-trials. it will be long, i think, before we arrive at a just estimate of the amount of solid reason—if there was any—which lay at the root of the universal fear of witches in old times. whether the persons accused of this offence really did imagine that they were possessed of unusual power of any kind; or whether they had the will at least, if not the power, of doing mischief to their neighbours; or whether all the confessions, of which there are so many, were extorted by the mere cruelty of the witch-finders—these are questions which are not, i fancy, yet solved. and the present narrative gives me pause i 86 ghost-stories of an antiquary cannot altogether sweep it away as mere invention. the reader must judge for himself. castringham contributed a victim to the auto-da-fé. mrs. mothersole was her name, and she differed from the ordinary run of village witches only in being rather better off and in a more influential position. efforts were made to save her by several reputable farmers of the parish. they did their best to testify to her character, and showed considerable anxiety as to the verdict of the jury. but what seems to have been fatal to the woman was the evidence of the then proprietor of castringham hall—sir matthew fell. he deposed to having watched her on three different occasions from his window, at the full of the moon, gathering branches “from the ash-tree near my house.” she had climbed into the branches, clad only in her shift, and was cutting off small twigs with a peculiarly curved knife, and as she did so she seemed to be talking to herself. on each occasion sir matthew had done his best to capture the the ash-tree 87 woman, but she had always taken alarm at some accidental noise he had made, and all he could see when he got down to the garden was a hare running across the path in the direction of the village. on the third night he had been at the pains to follow at his best speed, and had gone straight to mrs. mothersole's house; but he had had to wait a quarter of an hour battering at her door, and then she had come out very cross, and apparently very sleepy, as if just out of bed; and he had no good explanation to offer of his visit. mainly on this evidence, though there was much more of a less striking and unusual kind from other parishioners, mrs. mothersole was found guilty and condemned to die. she was hanged a week after the trial, with five or six more unhappy creatures, at bury st. edmunds. sir matthew fell, then deputy-sheriff, was present at the execution. it was a damp, drizzly march morning when the cart made its way up the rough grass hill outside north88 ghost-stories of an antiquary gate, where the gallows stood. the other victims were apathetic or broken down with misery; but mrs. mothersole was, as in life so in death, of a very different temper. her ‘poysonous rage,’ as a reporter of the time puts it, “did so work upon the bystanders— yea, even upon the hangman—that it was constantly affirmed of all that saw her that she presented the living aspect of a mad divell. yet she offer'd no resistance to the officers of the law; onely she looked upon those that laid hands upon her with so direfull and venomous an aspect that—as one of them afterwards assured me—the meer thought of it preyed inwardly upon his mind for six months after.” however, all that she is reported to have said was the seemingly meaningless words: “there will be guests at the hall.” which she repeated more than once in an undertone. sir matthew fell was not unimpressed by the bearing of the woman. he had some talk upon the matter with the vicar of his the ash-tree 89 parish, with whom he travelled home after the assize business was over. his evidence at the trial had not been very willingly given; he was not specially infected with the witchfinding mania, but he declared, then and afterwards, that he could not give any other account of the matter than that he had given, and that he could not possibly have been mistaken as to what he saw. the whole transaction had been repugnant to him, for he was a man who liked to be on pleasant terms with those about him; but he saw a duty to be done in this business, and he had done it. that seems to have been the gist of his sentiments, and the vicar applauded it, as any reasonable man must have done. a few weeks after, when the moon of may was at the full, vicar and squire met again in the park, and walked to the hall together. lady fell was with her mother, who was dangerously ill, and sir matthew was alone at home; so the vicar, mr. crome, was easily persuaded to take a late supper at the hall. sir matthew was not very good company 90 ghost-stories of an antiquary this evening. the talk ran chiefly on family and parish matters, and, as luck would have it, sir matthew made a memorandum in writing of certain wishes or intentions of his regarding his estates, which afterwards proved exceedingly useful. when mr. crome thought of starting for home, about half-past nine o'clock, sir matthew and he took a preliminary turn on the gravelled walk at the back of the house. the only incident that struck mr. crome was this : they were in sight of the ash-tree which i described as growing near the windows of the building, when sir matthew stopped and said: “what is that that runs up and down the stem of the ash : it is never a squirrel? they will all be in their nests by now.’ the vicar looked and saw the moving creature, but he could make nothing of its colour in the moonlight. the sharp outline, however, seen for an instant, was imprinted on his brain, and he could have sworn, he said, though it sounded foolish, that, squirrel or not, it had more than four legs. the ash-tree 91 still, not much was to be made of the momentary vision, and the two men parted. they may have met since then, but it was not for a score of years. next day sir matthew fell was not downstairs at six in the morning, as was his custom, nor at seven, nor yet at eight. hereupon the servants went and knocked at his chamber door. i need not prolong the description of their anxious listenings and renewed batterings on the panels. the door was opened at last from the outside, and they found their master dead and black. so much you have guessed. that there were any marks of violence did not at the moment appear; but the window was open. one of the men went to fetch the parson, and then by his directions rode on to give notice to the coroner. mr. crome himself went as quick as he might to the hall, and was shown to the room where the dead man lay. he has left some notes among his papers which show how genuine a respect and sorrow was felt for sir matthew, and there is also this passage, 92 ghost-stories of an antiquary which i transcribe for the sake of the light it throws upon the course of events, and also upon the common beliefs of the time: “there was not any the least trace of an entrance having been forc'd to the chamber: but the casement stood open, as my poor friend would always have it in this season. he had his evening drink of small ale in a silver vessel of about a pint measure, and tonight had not drunk it out. this drink was examined by the physician from bury, a mr. hodgkins, who could not, however, as he afterwards declar'd upon his oath, before the coroner's quest, discover that any matter of a venomous kind was present in it. for, as was natural, in the great swelling and blackness of the corpse, there was talk made among the neighbours of poyson. the body was very much disorder'd as it laid in the bed, being twisted after so extream a sort as gave too probable conjecture that my worthy friend and patron had expir'd in great pain and agony. and what is as yet unexplain'd, and to myself the argument of some horrid and the ash-tree 93 artfull designe in the perpetrators of this barbarous murther, was this, that the women which were entrusted with the laying-out of the corpse and washing it, being both sad persons and very well respected in their mournfull profession, came to me in a great pain and distress both of mind and body, saying, what was indeed confirmed upon the first view, that they had no sooner touch'd the breast of the corpse with their naked hands than they were sensible of a more than ordinary violent smart and acheing in their palms, which, with their whole forearms, in no long time swell'd so immoderately, the pain still continuing, that, as afterwards proved, during many weeks they were forc'd to lay by the exercise of their calling; and yet no mark seen on the skin. “upon hearing this, i sent for the physician, who was still in the house, and we made as carefull a proof as we were able by the help of a small magnifying lens of crystal of the condition of the skinn on this part of the body: but could not detect with the instru94 ghost stories of an antiquary ment we had any matter of importance beyond a couple of small punctures or pricks, which we then concluded were the spotts by which the poyson might be introduced, remembering that ring of pope borgia, with other known specimens of the horrid art of the italian poysoners of the last age. “so much is to be said of the symptoms seen on the corpse. as to what i am to add, it is meerly my own experiment, and to be left to posterity to judge whether there be anything of value therein. there was on the table by the beddside a bible of the small size, in which my friend—punctuall as in matters of less moment, so in this more weighty one—used nightly, and upon his first rising, to read a sett portion. and i taking it up—not without a tear duly paid to him which from the study of this poorer adumbration was now pass'd to the contemplation of its great originall—it came into my thoughts, as at such moments of helplessness we are prone to catch at any the least glimmer that makes promise of light, to the ash-tree 95 make trial of that old and by many accounted superstitious practice of drawing the sortes: of which a principall instance, in the case of his late sacred majesty the blessed martyr king charles and my lord falkland, was now much talked of. i must needs admit that by my trial not much assistance was afforded me: yet, as the cause and origin of these dreadfull events may hereafter be search'd out, i set down the results, in the case it may be found that they pointed the true quarter of the mischief to a quicker intelligence than my own. ‘i made, then, three trials, opening the book and placing my finger upon certain words: which gave in the first these words, from luke xiii. 7, cut it down ; in the second, isaiah xiii. 20, it shall never be inhabited; and upon the third experiment, job xxxix. 30, her young ones also suck up blood.’ this is all that need be quoted from mr. crome's papers. sir matthew fell was duly coffined and laid into the earth, and his funeral sermon, preached by mr. crome on the 96 ghost-stories of an antiquary following sunday, has been printed under the title of ‘the unsearchable way; or, england's danger and the malicious dealings of antichrist,' it being the vicar's view, as well as that most commonly held in the neighbourhood, that the squire was the victim of a recrudescence of the popish plot. his son, sir matthew the second, succeeded to the title and estates. and so ends the first act of the castringham tragedy. it is to be mentioned, though the fact is not surprising, that the new baronet did not occupy the room in which his father had died. nor, indeed, was it slept in by anyone but an occasional visitor during the whole of his occupation. he died in 1785, and i do not find that anything particular marked his reign, save a curiously constant mortality among his cattle and live-stock in general, which showed a tendency to increase slightly as time went on. those who are interested in the details will find a statistical account in a letter to the gentleman's magazine of 1772, which draws the facts from the baronet's own papers. he the ash-tree 97 put an end to it at last by a very simple expedient, that of shutting up all his beasts in sheds at night, and keeping no sheep in his park. for he had noticed that nothing was ever attacked that spent the night indoors. after that the disorder confined itself to wild birds, and beasts of chase. but as we have no good account of the symptoms, and as all-night watching was quite unproductive of any clue, i do not dwell on what the suffolk farmers called the ‘castringham sickness.” the second sir matthew died in 1735, as i said, and was duly succeeded by his son, sir richard. it was in his time that the great family pew was built out on the north side of the parish church. so large were the squire's ideas that several of the graves on that unhallowed side of the building had to be disturbed to satisfy his requirements. among them was that of mrs. mothersole, the position of which was accurately known, thanks to a note on a plan of the church and yard, both made by mr. crome. a certain amount of interest was excited in 7 98 ghost-stories of an antiquary the village when it was known that the famous witch, who was still remembered by a few, was to be exhumed. and the feeling of surprise, and indeed disquiet, was very strong when it was found that, though her coffin was fairly sound and unbroken, there was no trace whatever inside it of body, bones, or dust. indeed, it is a curious phenomenon, for at the time of her burying no such things were dreamt of as resurrection-men, and it is difficult to conceive any rational motive for stealing a body otherwise than for the uses of the dissecting-room. the incident revived for a time all the stories of witch-trials and of the exploits of the witches, dormant for forty years, and sir richard's orders that the coffin should be burnt were thought by a good many to be rather foolhardy, though they were duly carried out. sir richard was a pestilent innovator, it is certain. before his time the hall had been a fine block of the mellowest red brick; but sir richard had travelled in italy and become infected with the italian taste, and, having more money than his predecessors, he deterthe ash-tree 99 mined to leave an italian palace where he had found an english house. so stucco and ashlar masked the brick; some indifferent roman marbles were planted about in the entrancehall and gardens; a reproduction of the sibyl's temple at tivoli was erected on the opposite bank of the mere; and castringham took an entirely new, and, i must say, a less engaging, aspect. but it was much admired, and served as a model to a good many of the neighbouring gentry in after-years. one morning, (it was in 1754) sir richard woke after a night of discomfort. it had been windy, and his chimney had smoked persistently, and yet it was so cold that he must keep up a fire. also something had so rattled about the window that no man could get a moment's peace. further, there was the prospect of several guests of position arriving in the course of the day, who would expect sport of some kind, and the inroads of the distemper (which continued among his game) had been lately so serious that he was afraid 7—2 100 ghost-stories of an antiquary for his reputation as a game-preserver. but what really touched him most nearly was the other matter of his sleepless night. he could certainly not sleep in that room again. that was the chief subject of his meditations at breakfast, and after it he began a systematic examination of the rooms to see which would suit his notions best. it was long before he found one. this had a window with an eastern aspect and that with a northern ; this door the servants would be always passing, and he did not like the bedstead in that. no, he must have a room with a western look-out, so that the sun could not wake him early, and it must be out of the way of the business of the house. the housekeeper was at the end of her i'esoulrcés. “well, sir richard, she said, ‘you know that there is but the one room like that in the house.’ “which may that be º said sir richard. “and that is sir matthew's—the west chamber.’ “well, put me in there, for there i’ll lie the ash-tree 101 to-night,” said her master. “which way is it? here, to be sure;’ and he hurried off. ‘oh, sir richard, but no one has slept there these forty years. the air has hardly changed since sir matthew died there.” thus she spoke, and rustled after him. “come, open the door, mrs. chiddock. i'll see the chamber, at least.’ so it was opened, and, indeed, the smell was very close and earthy. sir richard crossed to the window, and, impatiently, as was his wont, threw the shutters back, and flung open the casement. for this end of the house was one which the alterations had barely touched, grown up as it was with the great ash-tree, and being otherwise concealed from view. “air it, mrs. chiddock, all to-day, and move my bed-furniture in in the afternoon. put the bishop of kilmore in my old room.’ ‘pray, sir richard,” said a new voice, breaking in on this speech, “might i have the favour of a moment's interview º' sir richard turned round and saw a man in black in the doorway, who bowed. 102 ghost-stories of an antiquary “i must ask your indulgence for this intrusion, sir richard. you will, perhaps, hardly remember me. my name is william crome, and my grandfather was vicar here in your grandfather's time.” “well, sir,’ said sir richard, ‘the name of crome is always a passport to castringham. i am glad to renew a friendship of two generations' standing. in what can i serve you? for your hour of calling—and, if i do not mistake you, your bearing—shows you to be in some haste.” “that is no more than the truth, sir. i am riding from norwich to bury st. edmunds with what haste i can make, and i have called in on my way to leave with you some papers which we have but just come upon in looking over what my grandfather left at his death. it is thought you may find some matters of family interest in them.’ ‘you are mighty obliging, mr. crome, and, if you will be so good as to follow me to the parlour, and drink a glass of wine, we will take a first look at these same papers the ash-tree 103 together. and you, mrs. chiddock, as i said, be about airing this chamber. . . . yes, it is here my grandfather died. . . . yes, the tree, perhaps, does make the place a little dampish. . no ; i do not wish to listen to any more. make no difficulties, i beg. you have your orders—go. will you follow me, sir? they went to the study. the packet which young mr. crome had brought—he was then just become a fellow of clare hall in cambridge, i may say, and subsequently brought out a respectable edition of polyaenus —contained among other things the notes which the old vicar had made upon the occasion of sir matthew fell's death. and for the first time sir richard was confronted with the enigmatical sortes biblicae which you have heard. they amused him a good deal. “well, he said, “my grandfather's bible gave one prudent piece of advice—cut it down. if that stands for the ash-tree, he may rest assured i shall not neglect it. such a nest of catarrhs and agues was never seen.’ the parlour contained the family books, 104 ghost-stories of an antiquary which, pending the arrival of a collection which sir richard had made in italy, and the building of a proper room to receive them, were not many in number. sir richard looked up from the paper to the bookcase. ‘i wonder,’ says he, “whether the old prophet is there yet ! i fancy i see him.’ crossing the room, he took out a dumpy bible, which, sure enough, bore on the flyleaf the inscription: “to matthew fell, from his loving godmother, anne aldous, 2 september, 1659.” * “it would be no bad plan to test him again, mr. crome. i will wager we get a couple of names in the chronicles. h’m what have we here ? “thou shalt seek me in the morning, and i shall not be.” well, well ! your grandfather would have made a fine omen of that, hey no more prophets for me ! they are all in a tale. and now, mr. crome, i am infinitely obliged to you for your packet. you will, i fear, be impatient to get on. pray allow me—another glass.’ the ash-tree 105 so with offers of hospitality, which were genuinely meant (for sir richard thought well of the young man's address and manner) they parted. in the afternoon came the guests—the bishop of kilmore, lady mary hervey, sir william kentfield, etc. dinner at five, wine, cards, supper, and dispersal to bed. next morning sir richard is disinclined to take his gun with the rest. he talks with the bishop of kilmore. this prelate, unlike a good many of the irish bishops of his day, had visited his see, and, indeed, resided there, for some considerable time. this morning, as the two were walking along the terrace and talking over the alterations and improvements in the house, the bishop said, pointing to the window of the west room : ‘you could never get one of my irish flock to occupy that room, sir richard.’ ‘why is that, my lord ž it is, in fact, my own.” “well, our irish peasantry will always have it that it brings the worst of luck to sleep near 106 ghost-stories of an antiquary an ash-tree, and you have a fine growth of ash not two yards from your chamber window. perhaps, the bishop went on, with a smile, ‘it has given you a touch of its quality already, for you do not seem, if i may say it, so much the fresher for your night's rest as your friends would like to see you.’ ‘that, or something else, it is true, cost me my sleep from twelve to four, my lord. but the tree is to come down to-morrow, so i shall not hear much more from it.’ ‘i applaud your determination. it can hardly be wholesome to have the air you breathe strained, as it were, through all that leafage.’ ‘your lordship is right there, i think. but i had not my window open last night. it was rather the noise that went on—no doubt from the twigs sweeping the glass—that kept me open-eyed.’ “i think that can hardly be, sir richard. here—you see it from this point. none of these nearest branches even can touch your casement unless there were a gale, and there the ash-tree 107 was none of that last night. they miss the panes by a foot.’ ‘no, sir, true. what, then, will it be, i wonder, that scratched and rustled so—ay, and covered the dust on my sill with lines and marks º' at last they agreed that the rats must have come up through the ivy. that was the bishop's idea, and sir richard jumped at it. so the day passed quietly, and night came, and the party dispersed to their rooms, and wished sir richard a better night. and now we are in his bedroom, with the light out and the squire in bed. the room is over the kitchen, and the night outside still and warm, so the window stands open. there is very little light about the bedstead, but there is a strange movement there; it seems as if sir richard were moving his head rapidly to and fro with only the slightest possible sound. and now you would guess, so deceptive is the half-darkness, that he had several heads, round and brownish, which move back and forward, even as low as his 108 ghost-stories of an antiquary chest. it is a horrible illusion. is it nothing more ? there ! something drops off the bed with a soft plump, like a kitten, and is out of the window in a flash ; another—four—and after that there is quiet again. “thou shalt seek me in the morning, and i shall not be.” as with sir matthew, so with sir richard —dead and black in his bed | a pale and silent party of guests and servants gathered under the window when the news was known. italian poisoners, popish emissaries, infected air—all these and more guesses were hazarded, and the bishop of kilmore looked at the tree, in the fork of whose lower boughs a white tom-cat was crouching, looking down the hollow which years had gnawed in the trunk. it was watching something inside the tree with great interest. suddenly it got up and craned over the hole. then a bit of the edge on which it the ash-tree 109 stood gave way, and it went slithering in. everyone looked up at the noise of the fall. it is known to most of us that a cat can cry; but few of us have heard, i hope, such a yell as came out of the trunk of the great ash. two or three screams there were—the witnesses are not sure which—and then a slight and muffled noise of some commotion or struggling was all that came. but lady mary hervey fainted outright, and the housekeeper stopped her ears and fled till she fell on the terrace. the bishop of kilmore and sir william kentfield stayed. yet even they were daunted, though it was only at the cry of a cat; and sir william swallowed once or twice before he could say: “there is something more than we know of in that tree, my lord. i am for an instant search.” and this was agreed upon. a ladder was brought, and one of the gardeners went up, and, looking down the hollow, could detect nothing but a few dim indications of some110 ghost-stories of an antiquary thing moving. they got a lantern, and let it down by a rope. ‘we must get at the bottom of this. my life upon it, my lord, but the secret of these terrible deaths is there.” up went the gardener again with the lantern, and let it down the hole cautiously. they saw the yellow light upon his face as he bent over, and saw his face struck with an incredulous terror and loathing before he cried out in a dreadful voice and fell back from the ladder—where, happily, he was caught by two of the men—letting the lantern fall inside the tree. he was in a dead faint, and it was some time before any word could be got from him. by then they had something else to look at. the lantern must have broken at the bottom, and the light in it caught upon dry leaves and rubbish that lay there, for in a few minutes a dense smoke began to come up, and then flame; and, to be short, the tree was in a blaze. the bystanders made a ring at some yards' the ash-tree 111 distance, and sir william and the bishop sent men to get what weapons and tools they could ; for, clearly, whatever might be using the tree as its lair would be forced out by the fire. so it was. first, at the fork, they saw a round body covered with fire—the size of a man's head—appear very suddenly, then seem to collapse and fall back. this, five or six times; then a similar ball leapt into the air and fell on the grass, where after a moment it lay still. the bishop went as near as he dared to it, and saw—what but the remains of an enormous spider, veinous and seared and, as the fire burned lower down, more terrible bodies like this began to break out from the trunk, and it was seen that these were covered with grayish hair. all that day the ash burned, and until it fell to pieces the men stood about it, and from time to time killed the brutes as they darted out. at last there was a long interval when none appeared, and they cautiously closed in and examined the roots of the tree. 112 ghost-stories of an antiquary “they found,’ says the bishop of kilmore, “below it a rounded hollow place in the earth, wherein were two or three bodies of these creatures that had plainly been smothered by the smoke; and, what is to me more curious, at the side of this den, against the wall, was crouching the anatomy or skeleton of a human being, with the skin dried upon the bones, having some remains of black hair, which was pronounced by those that examined it to be undoubtedly the body of a woman, and clearly dead for a period of fifty years.” number 13 113 __ __--~~~~ ---number 13 among the towns of jutland, viborg justly holds a high place. it is the seat of a bishopric ; it has a handsome but almost entirely new cathedral, a charming garden, a lake of great beauty, and many storks. near it is hald, accounted one of the prettiest things in denmark; and hard by is finderup, where marsk stig murdered king erik glipping on st. cecilia's day, in the year 1286. fifty-six blows of square-headed iron maces were traced on erik's skull when his tomb was opened in the seventeenth century. but i am not writing a guide-book. there are good hotels in viborg–preisler's and the phoenix are all that can be desired. but my cousin, whose experiences i have to tell you now, went to the golden lion the 115 8–2 116 ghost-stories of an antiquary first time that he visited viborg. he has not been there since, and the following pages will perhaps explain the reason of his abstention. the golden lion is one of the very few houses in the town that were not destroyed in the great fire of 1726, which practically demolished the cathedral, the sognekirke, the raadhuus, and so much else that was old and interesting. it is a great red-brick house— that is, the front is of brick, with corbie steps on the gables and a text over the door; but the courtyard into which the omnibus drives is of black and white wood and plaster. the sun was declining in the heavens when my cousin walked up to the door, and the light smote full upon the imposing façade of the house. he was delighted with the oldfashioned aspect of the place, and promised himself a thoroughly satisfactory and amusing stay in an inn so typical of old jutland. it was not business in the ordinary sense of the word that had brought mr. anderson to viborg. he was engaged upon some researches into the church history of denmark, number 13 117 and it had come to his knowledge that in the rigsarkiv of viborg there were papers, saved from the fire, relating to the last days of roman catholicism in the country. he proposed, therefore, to spend a considerable time—perhaps as much as a fortnight or three weeks—in examining and copying these, and he hoped that the golden lion would be able to give him a room of sufficient size to serve alike as a bedroom and a study. his wishes were explained to the landlord, and, after a certain amount of thought, the latter suggested that perhaps it might be the best way for the gentleman to look at one or two of the larger rooms and pick one for himself. it seemed a good idea. the top floor was soon rejected as entailing too much getting upstairs after the day's work; the second floor contained no room of exactly the dimensions required ; but on the first floor there was a choice of two or three rooms which would, so far as size went, suit admirably. the landlord was strongly in favour of number 17, but mr. anderson pointed out 118 ghost-stories of an antiquary *. * that its windows commanded only the blank wall of the next house, and that it would be very dark in the afternoon. either number 12 or number 14 would be better, for both of them looked on the street, and the bright evening light and the pretty view would more than compensate him for the additional amount of noise. eventually number 12 was selected. like its neighbours, it had three windows, all on one side of the room; it was fairly high and unusually long. there was, of course, no fireplace, but the stove was handsome and rather old—a cast-iron erection, on the side of which was a representation of abraham sacrificing isaac, and the inscription, ‘i bog mose, cap. 22, above. nothing else in the room was remarkable; the only interesting picture was an old coloured print of the town, date about 1820. supper-time was approaching, but when anderson, refreshed by the ordinary ablutions, descended the staircase, there were still a few minutes before the bell rang. he devoted number 13 119 them to examining the list of his fellow-lodgers. as is usual in denmark, their names were displayed on a large blackboard, divided into columns and lines, the numbers of the rooms being painted in at the beginning of each line. the list was not exciting. there was an advocate, or sagförer, a german, and some bagmen from copenhagen. the one and only point which suggested any food for thought was the absence of any number 13 from the tale of the rooms, and even this was a thing which anderson had already noticed half a dozen times in his experience of danish hotels. he could not help wondering whether the objection to that particular number, common as it is, was so widespread and so strong as to make it difficult to let a room so ticketed, and he resolved to ask the landlord if he and his colleagues in the profession had actually met with many clients who refused to be accommodated in the thirteenth room. he had nothing to tell me (i am giving the story as i heard it from him) about what passed at supper, and the evening, which was spent 120 ghost-stories of an antiquary in unpacking and arranging his clothes, books, and papers, was not more eventful. towards eleven o'clock he resolved to go to bed, but with him, as with a good many other people nowadays, an almost necessary preliminary to bed, if he meant to sleep, was the reading of a few pages of print, and he now remembered that the particular book which he had been reading in the train, and which alone would satisfy him at that present moment, was in the pocket of his great-coat, then hanging on a peg outside the dining-room. to run down and secure it was the work of a moment, and, as the passages were by no means dark, it was not difficult for him to find his way back to his own door. so, at least, he thought; but when he arrived there, and turned the handle, the door entirely refused to open, and he caught the sound of a hasty movement towards it from within. he had tried the wrong door, of course. was his own room to the right or to the left 2 he glanced at the number: it was 13. his room would be on the left; and so it was. and not before number 13 191 he had been in bed for some minutes, had read his wonted three or four pages of his book, blown out his light, and turned over to go to sleep, did it occur to him that, whereas on the blackboard of the hotel there had been no number 13, there was undoubtedly a room numbered 13 in the hotel. he felt rather sorry he had not chosen it for his own. perhaps he might have done the landlord a little service by occupying it, and given him the chance of saying that a well-born english gentleman had lived in it for three weeks and liked it very much. but probably it was used as a servant's room or something of the kind. after all, it was most likely not so large or good a room as his own. and he looked drowsily about the room, which was fairly perceptible in the half-light from the street-lamp. it was a curious effect, he thought. rooms usually look larger in a dim light than a full one, but this seemed to have contracted in length and grown proportionately higher. well, well ! sleep was more important than these vague ruminations—and to sleep he went. 122 ghost-stories of an antiquary on the day after his arrival anderson attacked the rigsarkiv of viborg. he was, as one might expect in denmark, kindly received, and access to all that he wished to see was made as easy for him as possible. the documents laid before him were far more numerous and interesting than he had at all anticipated. besides official papers, there was a large bundle of correspondence relating to bishop jörgen friis, the last roman catholic who held the see, and in these there cropped up many amusing and what are called ‘intimate ’ details of private life and individual character. there was much talk of a house owned by the bishop, but not inhabited by him, in the town. its tenant was apparently somewhat of a scandal and a stumbling-block to the reforming party. he was a disgrace, they wrote, to the city; he practised secret and wicked arts, and had sold his soul to the enemy. it was of a piece with the gross corruption and superstition of the babylonish church that such a viper and blood-sucking troldmand should be patronized and harboured number 13 123 by the bishop. the bishop met these reproaches boldly; he protested his own abhorrence of all such things as secret arts, and required his antagonists to bring the matter before the proper court—of course, the spiritual court—and sift it to the bottom. no one could be more ready and willing than himself to condemn mag. nicolas francken if the evidence showed him to have been guilty of any of the crimes informally alleged against him. g anderson had not time to do more than glance at the next letter of the protestant leader, rasmus nielsen, before the record office was closed for the day, but he gathered its general tenor, which was to the effect that christian men were now no longer bound by the decisions of bishops of rome, and that the bishop's court was not, and could not be, a fit or competent tribunal to judge so grave and weighty a cause. on leaving the office, mr. anderson was accompanied by the old gentleman who presided over it, and, as they walked, the conver124 ghost-stories of an antiquary sation very naturally turned to the papers of which i have just been speaking. herr scavenius, the archivist of viborg, though very well informed as to the general run of the documents under his charge, was not a specialist in those of the reformation period. he was much interested in what anderson had to tell him about them. he looked forward with great pleasure, he said, to seeing the publication in which mr. anderson spoke of embodying their contents. ‘this house of the bishop friis, he added, “it is a great puzzle to me where it can have stood. i have studied carefully the topography of old viborg, but it is most unlucky—of the old terrier of the bishop's property which was made in 1560, and of which we have the greater part in the arkiv, just the piece which had the list of the town property is missing. never mind. perhaps i shall some day succeed to find him.’ after taking some exercise—i forget exactly how or where—anderson went back to the golden lion, his supper, his game of patience, and his bed. on the way to his number 13 125 room it occurred to him that he had forgotten to talk to the landlord about the omission of number 13 from the hotel board, and also that he might as well make sure that number 13 did actually exist before he made any reference to the matter. the decision was not difficult to arrive at. there was the door with its number as plain as could be, and work of some kind was evidently going on inside it, for as he neared the door he could hear footsteps and voices, or a voice, within. during the few seconds in which he halted to make sure of the number, the footsteps ceased, seemingly very near the door, and he was a little startled at hearing a quick hissing breathing as of a person in strong excitement. he went on to his own room, and again he was surprised to find how much smaller it seemed now than it had when he selected it. it was a slight disappointment, but only slight. if he found it really not large enough, he could very easily shift to another. in the meantime he wanted something—as far as i remember it was a 126 ghost-stories of an antiquary pocket-handkerchief–out of his portmanteau, which had been placed by the porter on a very inadequate trestle or stool against the wall at the furthest end of the room from his bed, here was a very curious thing: the portmanteau was not to be seen. it had been moved by officious servants; doubtless the contents had been put in the wardrobe. no, none of them were there. this was vexatious. the idea of a theft he dismissed at once. such things rarely happen in denmark, but some piece of stupidity had certainly been performed (which is not so uncommon), and the stucpige must be severely spoken to. whatever it was that he wanted, it was not so necessary to his comfort that he could not wait till the morning for it, and he therefore settled not to ring the bell and disturb the servants. he went to the window—the right-hand window it was — and looked out on the quiet street. there was a tall building opposite, with large spaces of dead wall; no passers by ; a dark night; and very little to be seen of any kind. number 13 127 the light was behind him, and he could see his own shadow clearly cast on the wall opposite. also the shadow of the bearded man in number 11 on the left, who passed to and fro in shirtsleeves once or twice, and was seen first brushing his hair, and later on in a nightgown. also the shadow of the occupant of number 13 on the right. this might be more interesting. number 13 was, like himself, leaning on his elbows on the window-sill looking out into the street. he seemed to be a tall thin man—or was it by any chance a woman –at least, it was someone who covered his or her head with some kind of drapery before going to bed, and, he thought, must be possessed of a red lamp-shade—and the lamp must be flickering very much. there was a distinct playing up and down of a dull red light on the opposite wall. he craned out a little to see if he could make any more of the figure, but beyond a fold of some light, perhaps white, material on the window-sill he could see nothing. now came a distant step in the street, and 128 ghost-stories of an antiquary its approach seemed to recall number 18 to a sense of his exposed position, for very swiftly and suddenly he swept aside from the window, and his red light went out. anderson, who had been smoking a cigarette, laid the end of it on the window-sill and went to bed. next morning he was woke by the stuepige with hot water, etc. he roused himself, and after thinking out the correct danish words, said as distinctly as he could : ‘you must not move my portmanteau. where is it !” as is not uncommon, the maid laughed, and went away without making any distinct ailswer. anderson, rather irritated, sat up in bed, intending to call her back, but he remained sitting up, staring straight in front of him. there was his portmanteau on its trestle, exactly where he had seen the porter put it when he first arrived. this was a rude shock for a man who prided himself on his accuracy of observation. how it could possibly have escaped him the night before he did not number 13 129 pretend to understand; at any rate, there it was incw. the daylight showed more than the portmanteau; it let the true proportions of the room with its three windows appear, and satisfied its tenant that his choice after all had not been a bad one. when he was almost dressed he walked to the middle one of the three windows to look out at the weather. another shock awaited him. strangely unobservant he must have been last night. he could have sworn ten times over that he had been smoking at the right-hand window the last thing before he went to bed, and here was his cigarette-end on the sill of the middle window. he started to go down to breakfast. rather late, but number 13 was later: here were his boots still outside his door—a gentleman's boots. so then number 13 was a man, not a woman. just then he caught sight of the number on the door. it was 14. he thought he must have passed number 13 without noticing it. three stupid mistakes in twelve hours were too much for a methodical, accurate9 130 ghost-stories of an antiquary minded man, so he turned back to make sure. the next number to 14 was number 12, his own room. there was no number 13 at all. after some minutes devoted to a careful consideration of everything he had had to eat and drink during the last twenty-four hours, anderson decided to give the question up. if his eyes or his brain were giving way he would have plenty of opportunities for ascertaining that fact; if not, then he was evidently being treated to a very interesting experience. in either case the development of events would certainly be worth watching. during the day he continued his examination of the episcopal correspondence which i have already summarized. to his disappointment, it was incomplete. only one other letter could be found which referred to the affair of mag. nicolas francken. it was from the bishop jörgen friis to rasmus nielsen. he said: “although we are not in the least degree inclined to assent to your judgment concerning our court, and shall be prepared if need be to number 13 131 withstand you to the uttermost in that behalf, yet forasmuch as our trusty and well-beloved mag. nicolas francken, against whom you have dared to allege certain false and malicious charges, hath been suddenly removed from among us, it is apparent that the question for this term falls. but forasmuch as you further allege that the apostle and evangelist st. john in his heavenly apocalypse describes the holy roman church under the guise and symbol of the scarlet woman, be it known to you,' etc. search as he would, anderson could find no sequel to this letter nor any clue to the cause or manner of the “removal’ of the casus belli. he could only suppose that francken had died suddenly; and as there were only two days between the date of nielsen's last letter — when francken was evidently still in being—and that of the bishop's letter, the death must have been completely unexpected. in the afternoon he paid a short visit to hald, and took his tea at baekkelund; nor 9—2 132 ghost-stories of an antiquary could he notice, though he was in a somewhat nervous frame of mind, that there was any indication of such a failure of eye or brain as his experiences of the morning had led him to fear. at supper he found himself next to the landlord. what,’ he asked him, after some indifferent conversation, “is the reason why in most of the hotels one visits in this country the number thirteen is left out of the list of rooms ? i see you have none here.” the landlord seemed amused. “to think that you should have noticed a thing like that i’ve thought about it once or twice myself, to tell the truth. an educated man, i've said, has no business with these superstitious notions. i was brought up myself here in the high school of viborg, and our old master was always a man to set his face against anything of that kind. he's been dead now this many years—a fine upstanding man he was, and ready with his hands as well as his head. i recollect us boys, one snowy day number 13 133 here he plunged into reminiscence. “then you don't think there is any particular objection to having a number 18 º' said anderson. “ah! to be sure. well, you understand, i was brought up to the business by my poor old father. he kept an hotel in aarhuus first, and then, when we were born, he moved to viborg here, which was his native place, and had the phoenix here until he died. that was in 1876. then i started business in silkeborg, and only the year before last i moved into this house.’ then followed more details as to the state of the house and business when first taken over. “and when you came here, was there a number 13 ž’ ‘no, no. i was going to tell you about that. you see, in a place like this, the commercial class—the travellers—are what we have to provide for in general. and put them in number 13 * why, they'd as soon sleep in the street, or sooner. as far as i’m concerned 134 ghost-stories of an antiquary myself, it wouldn't make a penny difference to me what the number of my room was, and so i’ve often said to them ; but they stick to it that it brings them bad luck. quantities of stories they have among them of men that have slept in a number 13 and never been the same again, or lost their best customers, or— one thing and another,’ said the landlord, after searching for a more graphic phrase. “then, what do you use your number 18 for ?” said anderson, conscious as he said the words of a curious anxiety quite disproportionate to the importance of the question. ‘my number 18 why, don't i tell you that there isn't such a thing in the house ? i thought you might have noticed that. if there was it would be next door to your own room.’ “well, yes; only i happened to think— that is, i fancied last night that i had seen a door numbered thirteen in that passage; and, really, i am almost certain i must have been right, for i saw it the night before as well.' of course, herr kristensen laughed this number 13 135 notion to scorn, as anderson had expected, and emphasized with much iteration the fact that no number 13 existed or had existed before him in that hotel. anderson was in some ways relieved by his certainty, but still puzzled, and he began to think that the best way to make sure whether he had indeed been subject to an illusion or not was to invite the landlord to his room to smoke a cigar later on in the evening. some photographs of english towns which he had with him formed a sufficiently good excuse. herr kristensen was flattered by the invitation, and most willingly accepted it. at about ten o'clock he was to make his appearance, but before that anderson had some letters to write, and retired for the purpose of writing them. he almost blushed to himself at confessing it, but he could not deny that it was the fact that he was becoming quite nervous about the question of the existence of number 18; so much so that he approached his room by way of number 11, in order that he might not be 136 ghost-stories of an antiquary obliged to pass the door, or the place where the door ought to be. he looked quickly and suspiciously about the room when he entered it, but there was nothing, beyond that indefinable air of being smaller than usual, to warrant any misgivings. there was no question of the presence or absence of his portmanteau to-night. he had himself emptied it of its contents and lodged it under his bed. with a certain effort he dismissed the thought of number 13 from his mind, and sat down to his writing. his neighbours were quiet enough. occasionally a door opened in the passage and a pair of boots was thrown out, or a bagman walked past humming to himself, and outside, from time to time a cart thundered over the atrocious cobble-stones, or a quick step hurried along the flags. anderson finished his letters, ordered in whisky and soda, and then went to the window and studied the dead wall opposite and the shadows upon it. as far as he could remember, number 14 number 13 137 had been occupied by the lawyer, a staid man, who said little at meals, being generally engaged in studying a small bundle of papers beside his plate. apparently, however, he was in the habit of giving vent to his animal spirits when alone. why else should he be dancing? the shadow from the next room evidently showed that he was. again and again his thin form crossed the window, his arms waved, and a gaunt leg was kicked up with surprising agility. he seemed to be barefooted, and the floor must be well laid, for no sound betrayed his movements. sagförer herr anders jensen, dancing at ten o'clock at night in a hotel bedroom, seemed a fitting subject for a historical painting in the grand style; and anderson's thoughts, like those of emily in the ‘mysteries of udolpho, began to “arrange themselves in the following lines’: “when i return to my hotel, at ten o'clock p.m., the waiters think i am unwell; i do not care for them. but when i’ve locked my chamber door, and put my boots outside, 138 ghost-stories of an antiquary i dance all night upon the floor. and even if my neighbours swore, i'd go on dancing all the more, for i’m acquainted with the law, and in despite of all their jaw, their protests i deride.” had not the landlord at this moment knocked at the door, it is probable that quite a long poem might have been laid before the reader. to judge from his look of surprise when he found himself in the room, herr kristensen was struck, as anderson had been, by something unusual in its aspect. but he made no remark. anderson's photographs interested him mightily, and formed the text of many autobiographical discourses. nor is it quite clear how the conversation could have been diverted into the desired channel of number 13, had not the lawyer at this moment begun to sing, and to sing in a manner which could leave no doubt in anyone's mind that he was either exceedingly drunk or raving mad. it was a high, thin voice that they heard, and it seemed dry, as if from long disuse. of words or tune there was no question. it went sailing number 13 139 up to a surprising height, and was carried down with a despairing moan as of a winter wind in a hollow chimney, or an organ whose wind fails suddenly. it was a really horrible sound, and anderson felt that if he had been alone he must have fled for refuge and society to some neighbour bagman's room. the landlord sat open-mouthed. * i don't understand it,” he said at last, wiping his forehead. ‘it is dreadful. i have heard it once before, but i made sure it was a cat.” * is he mad?’ said anderson. “he must be; and what a sad thing ! such a good customer, too, and so successful in his business, by what i hear, and a young family to bring up.’ just then came an impatient knock at the door, and the knocker entered, without waiting to be asked. it was the lawyer, in deshabille and very rough-haired ; and very angry he looked. “i beg pardon, sir, he said, “but i should be much obliged if you would kindly desist— 140 ghost-stories of an antiquary here he stopped, for it was evident that neither of the persons before him was responsible for the disturbance; and after a moment's lull it swelled forth again more wildly than before. “but what in the name of heaven does it mean?' broke out the lawyer. “where is it? who is it? am i going out of my mind?' ‘surely, herr jensen, it comes from your room next door 2 isn't there a cat or something stuck in the chimney ' this was the best that occurred to anderson to say, and he realized its futility as he spoke: but anything was better than to stand and listen to that horrible voice, and look at the broad, white face of the landlord, all perspiring and quivering as he clutched the arms of his chair. ‘impossible,' said the lawyer, “impossible. there is no chimney. i came here because i was convinced the noise was going on here. it was certainly in the next room to mine.’ “was there no door between yours and mine º' said anderson eagerly. number 13 141 ‘no, sir,’ said herr jensen, rather sharply. “at least, not this morning.’ “ah!" said anderson. “nor to-night?' ‘i am not sure,” said the lawyer with some hesitation. suddenly the crying or singing voice in the next room died away, and the singer was heard seemingly to laugh to himself in a crooning manner. the three men actually shivered at the sound. then there was a silence. ‘come,” said the lawyer, “what have you to say, herr kristensen 2 what does this mean?' * good heaven l’ said kristensen. “how should i tell! i know no more than you, gentlemen. i pray i may never hear such a noise again.” “so do i,’ said herr jensen, and he added something under his breath. anderson thought it sounded like the last words of the psalter, “omnis spiritus laudet dominum, but he could not be sure. “but we must do something,' said anderson —‘the three of us. shall we go and investigate in the next room ? 142 ghost-stories of an antiquary “but that is herr jensen's room,’ wailed the landlord. ‘it is no use ; he has come from there himself.” ‘i am not so sure,' said jensen. “i think this gentleman is right: we must go and see.' the only weapons of defence that could be mustered on the spot were a stick and umbrella. the expedition went out into the passage, not without quakings. there was a deadly quiet outside, but a light shone from under the next door. anderson and jensen approached it. the latter turned the handle, and gave a sudden vigorous push. no use. the door stood fast. ‘herr kristensen,’ said jensen, “will you go and fetch the strongest servant you have in the place : we must see this through.” the landlord nodded, and hurried off, glad to be away from the scene of action. jensen and anderson remained outside looking at the door. “it is number 18, you see,' said the latter. ‘yes; there is your door, and there is mine,’ said jensen. number 13 143 “my room has three windows in the daytime,' said anderson, with difficulty suppressing a nervous laugh. “by george, so has mine i said the lawyer, turning and looking at anderson. his back was now to the door. in that moment the door opened, and an arm came out and clawed at his shoulder. it was clad in ragged, yellowish linen, and the bare skin, where it could be seen, had long gray hair upon it. anderson was just in time to pull jensen out of its reach with a cry of disgust and fright, when the door shut again, and a low laugh was heard. jensen had seen nothing, but when anderson hurriedly told him what a risk he had run, he fell into a great state of agitation, and suggested that they should retire from the enterprise and lock themselves up in one or other of their rooms. however, while he was developing this plan, the landlord and two able-bodied men arrived on the scene, all looking rather serious and alarmed. jensen met them with a torrent 144 ghost-stories of an antiquary of description and explanation, which did not at all tend to encourage them for the fray. the men dropped the crowbars they had brought, and said flatly that they were not going to risk their throats in that devil's den. the landlord was miserably nervous and undecided, conscious that if the danger were not faced his hotel was ruined, and very loath to face it himself. luckily anderson hit upon a way of rallying the demoralized force. ‘is this, he said, ‘the danish courage i have heard so much of ? it isn't a german in there, and if it was, we are five to one.’ the two servants and jensen were stung into action by this, and made a dash at the door. “stop ſº said anderson. “don’t lose your heads. you stay out here with the light, landlord, and one of you two men break in the door, and don't go in when it gives way.” the men nodded, and the younger stepped forward, raised his crowbar, and dealt a tremendous blow on the upper panel. the result was not in the least what any of them anticipated. there was no cracking or rending number 13 145 of wood—only a dull sound, as if the solid wall had been struck. the man dropped his tool with a shout, and began rubbing his elbow. his cry drew their eyes upon him for a moment; then anderson looked at the door again. it was gone; the plaster wall of the passage stared him in the face, with a considerable gash in it where the crowbar had struck it. number 13 had passed out of existence. for a brief space they stood perfectly still, gazing at the blank wall. an early cock in the yard beneath was heard to crow; and as anderson glanced in the direction of the sound, he saw through the window at the end of the long passage that the eastern sky was paling to the dawn. 3% *k #: # 3% ‘perhaps,’ said the landlord, with hesitation, “you gentlemen would like another room for to-night—a double-bedded one º' neither jensen nor anderson was averse to the suggestion. they felt inclined to hunt in couples after their late experience. it was found convenient, when each of them went to i0 146 ghost-stories of an antiquary his room to collect the articles he wanted for the night, that the other should go with him and hold the candle. they noticed that both number 12 and number 14 had three windows. next morning the same party re-assembled in number 12. the landlord was naturally anxious to avoid engaging outside help, and yet it was imperative that the mystery attaching to that part of the house should be cleared up. accordingly the two servants had been induced to take upon them the function of carpenters. the furniture was cleared away, and, at the cost of a good many irretrievably damaged planks, that portion of the floor was taken up which lay nearest to number 14. you will naturally suppose that a skeleton —say that of mag. nicolas francken—was discovered. that was not so. what they did find lying between the beams which supported the flooring was a small copper box. in it was a neatly-folded vellum document, with about twenty lines of writing. both anderson and jensen (who proved to be something of a number 13 147 palaeographer) were much excited by this discovery, which promised to afford the key to these extraordinary phenomena. #: #: $: #: #: i possess a copy of an astrological work which i have never read. it has, by way of frontispiece, a woodcut by hans sebald beham, representing a number of sages seated round a table. this detail may enable connoisseurs to identify the book. i cannot myself recollect its title, and it is not at this moment within reach; but the fly-leaves of it are covered with writing, and, during the ten years in which i have owned the volume, i have not been able to determine which way up this writing ought to be read, much less in what language it is. not dissimilar was the position of anderson and jensen after the protracted examination to which they submitted the document in the copper box. after two days’ contemplation of it, jensen, who was the bolder spirit of the two, hazarded the conjecture that the language was either latin or old danish. 10–2 148 ghost-stories of an antiquary anderson ventured upon no surmises, and was very willing to surrender the box and the parchment to the historical society of viborg to be placed in their museum. i had the whole story from him a few months later, as we sat in a wood near upsala, after a visit to the library there, where we— or, rather, i–had laughed over the contract by which daniel salthenius (in later life professor of hebrew at königsberg) sold himself to satan. anderson was not really amused. ‘young idiot!” he said, meaning salthenius, who was only an undergraduate when he committed that indiscretion, “how did he know what company he was courting ” and when i suggested the usual considerations he only grunted. that same afternoon he told me what you have read; but he refused to draw any inferences from it, and to assent to any that i drew for him. count magnus 149 count magnus by what means the papers out of which i have made a connected story came into my hands is the last point which the reader will learn from these pages, but it is necessary to prefix to my extracts from them a statement of the form in which i possess them. they consist, then, partly of a series of collections for a book of travels, such a volume as was a common product of the forties and fifties. horace marryat's “journal of a residence in jutland and the danish isles’ is a fair specimen of the class to which i allude. these books usually treated of some unrnown district on the continent. they were illustrated with woodcuts or steel plates. they gave details of hotel accommodation, and of means of communication, such as we now 151 152 ghost-stories of an antiquary expect to find in any well-regulated guide-book, and they dealt largely in reported conversations with intelligent foreigners, racy innkeepers and garrulous peasants. in a word, they were chatty. begun with the idea of furnishing material for such a book, my papers as they progressed assumed the character of a record of one single personal experience, and this record was continued up to within a very short time from its termination. the writer was a mr. wraxall. for my knowledge of him i have to depend entirely on the evidence his writings afford, and from these i deduce that he was a man past middle age, possessed of some private means, and very much alone in the world. he had, it seems, no settled abode in england, but was a denizen of hotels and boarding-houses. it is probable that he entertained the idea of settling down at some future time which never came ; and i think it also likely that the pantechnicon fire in the early seventies must have destroyed a great deal that would have thrown light count magnus 153 on his antecedents, for he refers once or twice to property of his that was warehoused at that establishment. it is further apparent that mr. wraxall had published a book, and that it treated of a holiday he had once taken in britanny. more than this i cannot say about his work, because a diligent search in bibliographical works has convinced me that it must have appeared either anonymously or under a pseudonym. as to his character, it is not difficult to form some superficial opinion. he must have been an intelligent and cultivated man. it seems that he was near being a fellow of his college at oxford–brasenose, as i judge from the calendar. his besetting fault was pretty clearly that of over-inquisitiveness, possibly a good fault in a traveller, certainly a fault for which our traveller paid dearly enough in the end. on what proved to be his last expedition, he was plotting another book. scandinavia, a region not widely known to englishmen forty years ago, had struck him as an interesting field. he must have alighted on some old 154 ghost-stories of an antiquary books of swedish history or memoirs, and the idea had struck him that there was room for a book descriptive of travel in sweden, interspersed with episodes from the history of some of the great swedish families. he procured letters of introduction, therefore, to some persons of quality in sweden, and set out thither in the early summer of 1863. of his travels in the north there is no need to speak, nor of his residence of some weeks in stockholm. i need only mention that some savant resident there put him on the track of an important collection of family papers belonging to the proprietors of an ancient manor-house in westergothland, and obtained for him permission to examine them. the manor-house, or herrgård, in question is to be called räbäck (pronounced something like roebeck), though that is not its name. it is one of the best buildings of its kind in all the country, and the picture of it in dahlenberg's suecia antiqua et moderna, engraved in 1694, shows it very much as the tourist may see it to-day. it was built soon count magnus 155 after 1600, and is, roughly speaking, very much like an english house of that period in respect of material—red-brick with stone facings—and style. the man who built it was a scion of the great house of de la gardie, and his descendants possess it still. de la gardie is the name by which i will designate them when mention of them becomes necessary. they received mr. wraxall with great kindness and courtesy, and pressed him to stay in the house as long as his researches lasted. but, preferring to be independent, and mistrusting his powers of conversing in swedish, he settled himself at the village inn, which turned out quite sufficiently comfortable, at any rate during the summer months. this arrangement would entail a short walk daily to and from the manor-house of something under a mile. the house itself stood in a park, and was protected —we should say grown up—with large old timber. near it you found the walled garden, and then entered a close wood fringing one of the small lakes with which the whole country is pitted. then came the wall of the demesne, 156 ghost-stories of an antiquary and you climbed a steep knoll—a knob of rock lightly covered with soil—and on the top of this stood the church, fenced in with tall dark trees. it was a curious building to english eyes. the nave and aisles were low, and filled with pews and galleries. in the western gallery stood the handsome old organ, gaily painted, and with silver pipes. the ceiling was flat, and had been adorned by a seventeenth-century artist with a strange and hideous ‘last judgment, full of lurid flames, falling cities, burning ships, crying souls, and brown and smiling demons. handsome brass coronae hung from the roof; the pulpit was like a doll's house, covered with little painted wooden cherubs and saints; a stand with three hour-glasses was hinged to the preacher's desk. such sights as these may be seen in many a church in sweden now, but what distinguished this one was an addition to the original building. at the eastern end of the north aisle the builder of the manor-house had erected a mausoleum for himself and his family. it was count magnus 157 a largish eight-sided building, lighted by a series of oval windows, and it had a domed roof, topped by a kind of pumpkin-shaped object rising into a spire, a form in which swedish architects greatly delighted. the roof was of copper externally, and was painted black, while the walls, in common with those of the church, were staringly white. to this mausoleum there was no access from the church. it had a portal and steps of its own on the northern side. past the churchyard the path to the village goes, and not more than three or four minutes bring you to the inn door. on the first day of his stay at råbäck mr. wraxall found the church door open, and made those notes of the interior which i have epitomized. into the mausoleum, however, he could not make his way. he could by looking through the keyhole just descry that there were fine marble effigies and sarcophagi of copper, and a wealth of armorial ornament, which made him very anxious to spend some time in investigation. 158 ghost-stories of an antiquary the papers he had come to examine at the manor-house proved to be of just the kind he wanted for his book. there were family correspondence, journals, and account-books of the earliest owners of the estate, very carefully kept and clearly written, full of amusing and picturesque detail. the first de la gardie appeared in them as a strong and capable man. shortly after the building of the mansion there had been a period of distress in the district, and the peasants had risen and attacked several châteaux and done some damage. the owner of råbäck took a leading part in suppressing the trouble, and there was reference to executions of ringleaders and severe punishments inflicted with no sparing hand. the portrait of this magnus de la gardie was one of the best in the house, and mr. wraxall studied it with no little interest after his day's work. he gives no detailed description of it, but i gather that the face impressed him rather by its power than by its beauty or goodness; in fact, he writes that count magnus was an almost phenomenally ugly man. count magnus 159 on this day mr. wraxall took his supper with the family, and walked back in the late but still bright evening. “i must remember,’ he writes, “to ask the sexton if he can let me into the mausoleum at the church. he evidently has access to it himself, for i saw him to-night standing on the steps, and, as i thought, locking or unlocking the door.” i find that early on the following day mr. wraxall had some conversation with his landlord. his setting it down at such length as he does surprised me at first ; but i soon realized that the papers i was reading were, at least in their beginning, the materials for the book he was meditating, and that it was to have been one of those quasi-journalistic productions which admit of the introduction of an admixture of conversational matter. his object, he says, was to find out whether any traditions of count magnus de la gardie lingered on in the scenes of that gentleman's activity, and whether the popular estimate of him were favourable or not. he found that 160 ghost-stories of an antiquary the count was decidedly not a favourite. if his tenants came late to their work on the days which they owed to him as lord of the manor, they were set on the wooden horse, or flogged and branded in the manor-house yard. one or two cases there were of men who had occupied lands which encroached on the lord's domain, and whose houses had been mysteriously burnt on a winter's night, with the whole family inside. but what seemed to dwell on the innkeeper's mind most—for he returned to the subject more than once—was that the count had been on the black pilgrimage, and had brought something or someone back with him. you will naturally inquire, as mr. wraxall did, what the black pilgrimage may have been. but your curiosity on the point must remain unsatisfied for the time being, just as his did. the landlord was evidently unwilling to give a full answer, or indeed any answer, on the point, and, being called out for a moment, trotted out with obvious alacrity, only putting his head in at the door a few minutes aftercount magnus 161 wards to say that he was called away to skara, and should not be back till evening. so mr. wraxall had to go unsatisfied to his day's work at the manor-house. the papers on which he was just then engaged soon put his thoughts into another channel, for he had to occupy himself with glancing over the correspondence between sophia albertina in stockholm and her married cousin ulrica leonora at råbäck in the years 1705-1710. the letters were of exceptional interest from the light they threw upon the culture of that period in sweden, as anyone can testify who has read the full edition of them in the publications of the swedish historical manuscripts commission. in the afternoon he had done with these, and after returning the boxes in which they were kept to their places on the shelf, he proceeded, very naturally, to take down some of the volumes nearest to them, in order to determine which of them had best be his principal subject of investigation next day. the shelf he had hit upon was occupied mostly by a collection of ii 162 ghost-stories of an antiquary account-books in the writing of the first count magnus. but one among them was not an account-book, but a book of alchemical and other tracts in another sixteenth-century hand. not being very familiar with alchemical literature, mr. wraxall spends a good deal of space which he might have spared in setting out the names and beginnings of the various treatises : the book of the phoenix, book of the thirty words, book of the toad, book of miriam, turba philosophorum, and so forth ; and then he announces with a good deal of circumstance his delight at finding, on a leaf originally left blank near the middle of the book, some writing of count magnus himself headed ‘liber nigra peregrinationis.’ it is true that only a few lines were written, but there was quite enough to show that the landlord had that morning been referring to a belief at least as old as the time of count magnus, and probably shared by him. this is the english of what was written : “if any man desires to obtain a long life, if he would obtain a faithful messenger and see the count magnus 163 blood of his enemies, it is necessary that he should first go into the city of chorazin, and there salute the prince. . . .” here there was an erasure of one word, not very thoroughly done, so that mr. wraxall felt pretty sure that he was right in reading it as aéris (“of the air'). but there was no more of the text copied, only a line in latin: ‘quaere reliqua hujus materiei inter secretiora' (see the rest of this matter among the more private things). it could not be denied that this threw a rather lurid light upon the tastes and beliefs of the count; but to mr. wraxall, separated from him by nearly three centuries, the thought that he might have added to his general forcefulness alchemy, and to alchemy something like magic, only made him a more picturesque figure; and when, after a rather prolonged contemplation of his picture in the hall, mr. wraxall set out on his homeward way, his mind was full of the thought of count magnus. he had no eyes for his surroundings, no perception of the evening scents of the woods or the evening light on the lake; and when all of 11—2 164 ghost-stories of an antiquary a sudden he pulled up short, he was astonished to find himself already at the gate of the churchyard, and within a few minutes of his dinner. his eyes fell on the mausoleum. “ah, he said, ‘count magnus, there you are. i should dearly like to see you.’ “like many solitary men, he writes, ‘i have a habit of talking to myself aloud ; and, unlike some of the greek and latin particles, i do not expect an answer. certainly, and perhaps fortunately in this case, there was neither voice nor any that regarded: only the woman who, i suppose, was cleaning up the church, dropped some metallic object on the floor, whose clang startled me. count magnus, i think, sleeps sound enough.” that same evening the landlord of the inn, who had heard mr. wraxall say that he wished to see the clerk or deacon (as he would be called in sweden) of the parish, introduced him to that official in the inn parlour. a visit to the de la gardie tomb-house was soon arranged for the next day, and a little general conversation ensued. count magnus 165 mr. wraxall, remembering that one function of scandinavian deacons is to teach candidates for confirmation, thought he would refresh his own memory on a biblical point. ‘can you tell me,’ he said, “anything about chorazin 2’ the deacon seemed startled, but readily reminded him how that village had once been denounced. “to be sure,” said mr. wraxall; “it is, i suppose, quite a ruin now ż’ “so i expect, replied the deacon. “i have heard some of our old priests say that antichrist is to be born there; and there are tales 2 “ah ! what tales are those ?' mr. wraxall put in. ‘tales, i was going to say, which i have forgotten,” said the deacon; and soon after that he said good-night. the landlord was now alone, and at mr. wraxall’s mercy; and that inquirer was not inclined to spare him. * herr nielsen,” he said, * i have found out . 166 ghost-stories of an antiquary something about the black pilgrimage. you may as well tell me what you know. what did the count bring back with him ?’ swedes are habitually slow, perhaps, in answering, or perhaps the landlord was an exception. i am not sure; but mr. wraxall notes that the landlord spent at least one minute in looking at him before he said anything at all. then he came close up to his guest, and with a good deal of effort he spoke: “mr. wraxall, i can tell you this one little tale, and no more—not any more. you must not ask anything when i have done. in my grandfather's time—that is, ninety-two years ago—there were two men who said: “the count is dead; we do not care for him. we will go to-night and have a free hunt in his wood”—the long wood on the hill that you have seen behind räbäck. well, those that heard them say this, they said: “no, do not go; we are sure you will meet with persons walking who should not be walking. they should be resting, not walking.” these count magnus 167 men laughed. there were no forest-men to keep the wood, because no one wished to live there. the family were not here at the house. these men could do what they wished. “very well, they go to the wood that night. my grandfather was sitting here in this room. it was the summer, and a light night. with the window open, he could see out to the wood, and hear. “so he sat there, and two or three men with him, and they listened. at first they hear nothing at all; then they hear someone—you know how far away it is—they hear someone scream, just as if the most inside part of his soul was twisted out of him. all of them in the room caught hold of each other, and they sat so for three-quarters of an hour. then they hear someone else, only about three hundred ells off. they hear him laugh out loud: it was not one of those two men that laughed, and, indeed, they have all of them said that it was not any man at all. after that they hear a great door shut. “then, when it was just light with the sun 168 ghost-stories of an antiquary they all went to the priest. they said to him : “father, put on your gown and your ruff, and come to bury these men, anders bjornsen and hans thorbjorn.” ‘you understand that they were sure these men were dead. so they went to the wood— my grandfather never forgot this. he said they were all like so many dead men themselves. the priest, too, he was in a white fear. he said when they came to him : “i heard one cry in the night, and i heard one laugh afterwards. if i cannot forget that, i shall not be able to sleep again.” “so they went to the wood, and they found these men on the edge of the wood. hans thorbjorn was standing with his back against a tree, and all the time he was pushing with his hands—pushing something away from him which was not there. so he was not dead. and they led him away, and took him to the home at nykjoping, and he died before the winter; but he went on pushing with his hands. also anders bjornsen was there; but count magnus 169 he was dead. and i tell you this about anders bjornsen, that he was once a beautiful man, but now his face was not there, because the flesh of it was sucked away off the bones. you understand that my grandfather did not forget that. and they laid him on the bier which they brought, and they put a cloth over his head, and the priest walked before; and they began to sing the psalm for the dead as well as they could. so, as they were singing the end of the first verse, one fell down, who was carrying the head of the bier, and the others looked back, and they saw that the cloth had fallen off, and the eyes of anders bjornsen were looking up, because there was nothing to close over them. and this they could not bear. therefore the priest laid the cloth upon him, and sent for a spade, and they buried him in that place.” the next day mr. wraxall records that the deacon called for him soon after his breakfast, and took him to the church and mausoleum. he noticed that the key of the latter was hung on a nail just by the pulpit, and 170 ghost-stories of an antiquary it occurred to him that, as the church door seemed to be left unlocked as a rule, it would not be difficult for him to pay a second and more private visit to the monuments if there proved to be more of interest among them than could be digested at first. the building, when he entered it, he found not unimposing. the monuments, mostly large erections of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, were dignified if luxuriant, and the epitaphs and heraldry were copious. the central space of the domed room was occupied by three copper sarcophagi, covered with finely-engraved ornament. two of them had, as is commonly the case in denmark and sweden, a large metal crucifix on the lid. the third, that of count magnus, as it appeared, had, instead of that, a full-length effigy engraved upon it, and round the edge were several bands of similar ornament representing various scenes. one was a battle, with cannon belching out smoke, and walled towns, and troops of pikemen. another showed an execution. in a third, among trees, was a man running at full speed, count magnus 171 with flying hair and outstretched hands. after him followed a strange form; it would be hard to say whether the artist had intended it for a man, and was unable to give the requisite similitude, or whether it was intentionally made as monstrous as it looked. in view of the skill with which the rest of the drawing was done, mr. wraxall felt inclined to adopt the latter idea. the figure was unduly short, and was for the most part muffled in a hooded garment which swept the ground. the only part of the form which projected from that shelter was not shaped like any hand or arm. mr. wraxall compares it to the tentacle of a devil-fish, and continues: ‘on seeing this, i said to myself, “this, then, which is evidently an allegorical representation of some kind—a fiend pursuing a hunted soul —may be the origin of the story of count magnus and his mysterious companion. let us see how the huntsman is pictured: doubtless it will be a demon blowing his horn.” but, as it turned out, there was no such sensational figure, only the semblance of a cloaked man 172 ghost-stories of an antiquary on a hillock, who stood leaning on a stick, and watching the hunt with an interest which the engraver had tried to express in his attitude. mr. wraxall noted the finely-worked and massive steel padlocks—three in number— which secured the sarcophagus. one of them, he saw, was detached, and lay on the pavement. and then, unwilling to delay the deacon longer or to waste his own working-time, he made his way onward to the manor-house. “it is curious,” he notes, ‘how on retracing a familiar path one's thoughts engross one to the absolute exclusion of surrounding objects. to-night, for the second time, i had entirely failed to notice where i was going (i had planned a private visit to the tomb-house to copy the epitaphs), when i suddenly, as it were, awoke to consciousness, and found myself (as before) turning in at the churchyard gate, and, i believe, singing or chanting some such words as, “are you awake, count magnus? are you asleep, count magnus * and then something more which i have failed to recollect. it seemed to me that i must count magnus 173 have been behaving in this nonsensical way for some time.” he found the key of the manor-house where he had expected to find it, and copied the greater part of what he wanted; in fact, he stayed until the light began to fail him. “i must have been wrong,” he writes, ‘in saying that one of the padlocks of my count's sarcophagus was unfastened ; i see to-night that two are loose. i picked both up, and laid them carefully on the window-ledge, after trying unsuccessfully to close them. the remaining one is still firm, and, though i take it to be a spring lock, i cannot guess how it is opened. had i succeeded in undoing it, i am almost afraid i should have taken the liberty of opening the sarcophagus. it is strange, the interest i feel in the personality of this, i fear, somewhat ferocious and grim old noble.” the day following was, as it turned out, the last of mr. wraxall's stay at råbäck. he received letters connected with certain investments which made it desirable that he should return to england ; his work among the 174 ghost-stories of an antiquary papers was practically done, and travelling was slow. he decided, therefore, to make his farewells, put some finishing touches to his notes, and be off. these finishing touches and farewells, as it turned out, took more time than he had expected. the hospitable family insisted on his staying to dine with them—they dined at three—and it was verging on half-past six before he was outside the iron gates of råbäck. he dwelt on every step of his walk by the lake, determined to saturate himself, now that he trod it for the last time, in the sentiment of the place and hour. and when he reached the summit of the churchyard knoll, he lingered for many minutes, gazing at the limitless prospect of woods near and distant, all dark beneath a sky of liquid green. when at last he turned to go, the thought struck him that surely he must bid farewell to count magnus as well as the rest of the de la gardies. the church was but twenty yards away, and he knew where the key of the mausoleum hung. it was not long before he count magnus 175 was standing over the great copper coffin, and, as usual, talking to himself aloud. “you may have been a bit of a rascal in your time, magnus,” he was saying, “but for all that i 2 should like to see you, or, rathe “just at that instant, he says, “i felt a blow on my foot. hastily enough i drew it back, and something fell on the pavement with a clash. it was the third, the last of the three padlocks which had fastened the sarcophagus. i stooped to pick it up, and—heaven is my witness that i am writing only the bare truth —before i had raised myself there was a sound of metal hinges creaking, and i distinctly saw the lid shifting upwards. i may have behaved like a coward, but i could not for my life stay for one moment. i was outside that dreadful building in less time than i can write—almost as quickly as i could have said—the words; and what frightens me yet more, i could not turn the key in the lock. as i sit here in my room noting these facts, i ask myself (it was not twenty minutes ago) whether that noise of creaking metal continued, and i cannot tell 176 ghost-stories of an antiquary whether it did or not. i only know that there was something more than i have written that alarmed me, but whether it was sound or sight i am not able to remember. what is this that i have done º' poor mr. wraxall ! he set out on his journey to england on the next day, as he had planned, and he reached england in safety; and yet, as i gather from his changed hand and inconsequent jottings, a broken man. one of several small note-books that have come to me with his papers gives, not a key to, but a kind of inkling of his experiences. much of his journey was made by canal-boat, and i find not less than six painful attempts to enumerate and describe his fellow-passengers. the entries are of this kind: ‘24. pastor of village in skåne. usual black coat and soft black hat. “25. commercial traveller from stockholm going to trollhättan. black cloak, brown hat. ‘26. man in long black cloak, broad-leafed hat, very old-fashioned.” this entry is lined out, and a note added: count magnus 177 ‘perhaps identical with no. 13. have not not yet seen his face.” on referring to no. 13, i find that he is a roman priest in a cassock. the net result of the reckoning is always the same. twenty-eight people appear in the enumeration, one being always a man in a long black cloak and broad hat, and the other a ‘short figure in dark cloak and hood.” on the other hand, it is always noted that only twentysix passengers appear at meals, and that the man in the cloak is perhaps absent, and the short figure is certainly absent. on reaching england, it appears that mr. wraxall landed at harwich, and that he resolved at once to put himself out of the reach of some person or persons whom he never specifies, but whom he had evidently come to regard as his pursuers. accordingly he took a vehicle—it was a closed fly—not trusting the railway, and drove across country to the village of belchamp st. paul. it was about nine o'clock on a moonlight august 12 178 ghost-stories of an antiquary night when he neared the place. he was sitting forward, and looking out of the window at the fields and thickets—there was little else to be seen—racing past him. suddenly he came to a cross road. at the corner two figures were standing motionless; both were in dark cloaks; the taller one wore a hat, the shorter a hood. he had no time to see their faces, nor did they make any motion that he could discern. yet the horse shied violently and broke into a gallop, and mr. wraxall sank back into his seat in something like desperation. he had seen them before. arrived at belchamp st. paul, he was fortunate enough to find a decent furnished lodging, and for the next twenty-four hours he lived comparatively speaking, in peace. his last notes were written on this day. they are too disjointed and ejaculatory to be given here in full, but the substance of them is clear enough. he is expecting a visit from his pursuers—how or when he knows not—and his constant cry is “what has he done º' and ‘is there no hope º' doctors, he knows, would count magnus 179 call him mad, policemen would laugh at him. the parson is away. what can he do but lock his door and cry to god? people still remembered last year at belchamp st. paul how a strange gentleman came one evening in july years back; and how the next morning but one he was found dead, and there was an inquest; and the jury that viewed the body fainted, seven of 'em did, and none of 'em wouldn't speak to what they see, and the verdict was visitation of god; and how the people as kep' the 'ouse moved out that same week, and went away from that part. but they do not, i think, know that any glimmer of light has ever been thrown, or could be thrown, on the mystery. it so happened that last year the little house came into my hands as part of a legacy. it had stood empty since 1863, and there seemed no prospect of letting it; so i had it pulled down, and the papers of which i have given you an abstract were found in a forgotten cupboard under the window in the best bedroom. 12–2 oh, whistle, and i'll come to you, my lad’ 18] ‘oh, whistle, and iil come to you, my lad’ “i suppose you will be getting away pretty soon, now full term is over, professor,’ said a person not in the story to the professor of ontography, soon after they had sat down next to each other at a feast in the hospitable hall of st. james's college. the professor was young, neat, and precise in speech. ‘yes,’ he said; “my friends have been making me take up golf this term, and i mean to go to the east coast—in point of fact to burnstow— (i dare say you know it) for a week or ten days, to improve my game. i hope to get off tomorrow.’ ‘oh, parkins,’ said his neighbour on the other side, “if you are going to burnstow, i 183 184 ghost-stories of an antiquary wish you would look at the site of the templars' preceptory, and let me know if you think it would be any good to have a dig there in the summer.’ it was, as you might suppose, a person of antiquarian pursuits who said this, but, since he merely appears in this prologue, there is no need to give his entitlements. “certainly,” said parkins, the professor: “if you will describe to me whereabouts the site is, i will do my best to give you an idea of the lie of the land when i get back; or i could write to you about it, if you would tell me where you are likely to be.” “don’t trouble to do that, thanks. it's only that i'm thinking of taking my family in that direction in the long, and it occurred to me that, as very few of the english preceptories have ever been properly planned, i might have an opportunity of doing something useful on off-days.” the professor rather sniffed at the idea that planning out a preceptory could be described as useful. his neighbour continued: “oh, whistle, and i'll come to you” 185 “the site—i doubt if there is anything showing above ground—must be down quite close to the beach now. the sea has encroached tremendously, as you know, all along that bit of coast. i should think, from the map, that it must be about three-quarters of a mile from the globe inn, at the north end of the town. where are you going to stay ? “well, at the globe inn, as a matter of fact,' said parkins; “i have engaged a room there. i couldn't get in anywhere else; most of the lodging-houses are shut up in winter, it seems; and, as it is, they tell me that the only room of any size i can have is really a double-bedded one, and that they haven't a corner in which to store the other bed, and so on. but i must have a fairly large room, for i am taking some books down, and mean to do a bit of work; and though i don't quite fancy having an empty bed—not to speak of two—in what i may call for the time being my study, i suppose i can manage to rough it for the short time i shall be there.” “do you call having an extra bed in your 186 ghost-stories of an antiquary room roughing it, parkins?” said a bluff person opposite. “look here, i shall come down and occupy it for a bit; it'll be company for you.’ the professor quivered, but managed to laugh in a courteous manner. “by all means, rogers; there's nothing i should like better. but i'm afraid you would find it rather dull; you don't play golf, do you?' ‘no, thank heaven!" said rude mr. rogers. “well, you see, when i'm not writing i shall most likely be out on the links, and that, as i say, would be rather dull for you, i'm afraid.’ * oh, i don't know ! there's certain to be somebody i know in the place; but, of course, if you don't want me, speak the word, parkins; i shan’t be offended. truth, as you always tell us, is never offensive.’ parkins was, indeed, scrupulously polite and strictly truthful. it is to be feared that mr. rogers sometimes practised upon his knowledge of these characteristics. in parkins's breast there was a conflict now raging, which • oh, whistle, and i'll come to you” 187 for a moment or two did not allow him to answer. that interval being over, he said: “well, if you want the exact truth, rogers, i was considering whether the room i speak of would really be large enough to accommodate us both comfortably; and also whether (mind, i shouldn't have said this if you hadn't pressed me) you would not constitute something in the nature of a hindrance to my work.” rogers laughed loudly. “well done, parkins !” he said. “it’s all right. i promise not to interrupt your work; don't you disturb yourself about that. no, i won't come if you don't want me; but i thought i should do so nicely to keep the ghosts off.” here he might have been seen to wink and to nudge his next neighbour. parkins might also have been seen to become pink. “i beg pardon, parkins, rogers continued ; “i oughtn't to have said that. i forgot you didn't like levity on these topics.” “well, parkins said, “as you have mentioned the matter, i freely own that i do 188 ghost-stories of an antiquary not like careless talk about what you call ghosts. a man in my position, he went on, raising his voice a little, “cannot, i find, be too careful about appearing to sanction the current beliefs on such subjects. as you know, rogers, or as you ought to know ; for i think i have never concealed my views ‘no, you certainly have not, old man,’ put in rogers sotto voce. « i hold that any semblance, any appearance of concession to the view that such things might exist is to me a renunciation of all that i hold most sacred. but i'm afraid i have not succeeded in securing your attention.’ ‘your undivided attention, was what dr. blimber actually said,” rogers interrupted, with every appearance of an earnest desire for accuracy. “but i beg your pardon, parkins: i'm stopping you.’ ‘no, not at all,” said parkins. “i don't remember blimber; perhaps he was before my * mr. rogers was wrong, vide “dombey and son,” chapter xii. • oh, whistle, and i ll come to you” 189 time. but i needn't go on. i’m sure you know what i mean.” ‘yes, yes,” said rogers, rather hastily—‘just so. we'll go into it fully at burnstow, or somewhere.” in repeating the above dialogue i have tried to give the impression which it made on me, that parkins was something of an old woman—rather henlike, perhaps, in his little ways; totally destitute, alas! of the sense of humour, but at the same time dauntless and sincere in his convictions, and a man deserving of the greatest respect. whether or not the reader has gathered so much, that was the character which parkins had. on the following day parkins did, as he had hoped, succeed in getting away from his college, and in arriving at burnstow. he was made welcome at the globe inn, was safely installed in the large double-bedded room of which we have heard, and was able before retiring to rest to arrange his materials for work in apple-pie order upon a commodious 190 ghost-stories of an antiquary table which occupied the outer end of the room, and was surrounded on three sides by windows looking out seaward; that is to say, the central window looked straight out to sea, and those on the left and right commanded prospects along the shore to the north and south respectively. on the south you saw the village of burnstow. on the north no houses were to be seen, but only the beach and the low cliff backing it. immediately in front was a strip—not considerable—of rough grass, dotted with old anchors, capstans, and so forth ; then a broad path; then the beach. whatever may have been the original distance between the globe inn and the sea, not more than sixty yards now separated them. the rest of the population of the inn was, of course, a golfing one, and included few elements that call for a special description. the most conspicuous figure was, perhaps, that of an ancien militaire, secretary of a london club, and possessed of a voice of incredible strength, and of views of a pronouncedly protestant type. these were apt • oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 191 to find utterance after his attendance upon the ministrations of the vicar, an estimable man with inclinations towards a picturesque ritual, which he gallantly kept down as far as he could out of deference to east anglian tradition. professor parkins, one of whose principal characteristics was pluck, spent the greater part of the day following his arrival at burnstow in what he had called improving his game, in company with this colonel wilson: and during the afternoon—whether the process of improvement were to blame or not, i am not sure—the colonel's demeanour assumed a colouring so lurid that even parkins jibbed at the thought of walking home with him from the links. he determined, after a short and furtive look at that bristling moustache and those incarnadined features, that it would be wiser to allow the influences of tea and tobacco to do what they could with the colonel before the dinner-hour should render a meeting inevitable. ‘i might walk home to-night along the 192 gho-t-stories of an antiquary beach, he reflected—“yes, and take a look– there will be light enough for that—at the ruins of which disney was talking. i don't exactly know where they are, by the way: but i expect i can hardly help stumbling on them.’ this he accomplished, i may say, in the most literal sense, for in picking his way from the links to the shingle beach his foot caught. partly in a gorse-root and partly in a biggish stone, and over he went. when he got up and surveyed his surroundings, he found himself in a patch of somewhat broken ground covered with small depressions and mounds. these latter, when he came to examine them, proved to be simply masses of flints embedded in mortar and grown over with turf. he must, he quite rightly concluded, be on the site of the preceptory he had promised to look at. it seemed not unlikely to reward the spade of the explorer; enough of the foundations was probably left at no great depth to throw a good deal of light on the general plan. he remembered vaguely that the templars, to whom this ‘oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 193 site had belonged, were in the habit of building round churches, and he thought a particular series of the humps or mounds near him did appear to be arranged in something of a circular form. few people can resist the temptation to try a little amateur research in a department quite outside their own, if only for the satisfaction of showing how successful they would have been had they only taken it up seriously. our professor, however, if he felt something of this mean desire, was also truly anxious to oblige mr. disney. so he paced with care the circular area he had noticed, and wrote down its rough dimensions in his pocketbook. then he proceeded to examine an oblong eminence which lay east of the centre of the circle, and seemed to his thinking likely to be the base of a platform or altar. at one end of it, the northern, a patch of the turf was gone—removed by some boy or other creature ferae naturae. it might, he thought, be as well to probe the soil here for evidences of masonry, and he took out his knife and began scraping away the earth. and now 13 194 ghost-stories of an antiquary followed another little discovery: a portion of soil fell inward as he scraped, and disclosed a small cavity. he lighted one match after another to help him to see of what nature the hole was, but the wind was too strong for them all. by tapping and scratching the sides with his knife, however, he was able to make out that it must be an artificial hole in masonry. it was rectangular, and the sides, top, and bottom, if not actually plastered, were smooth and regular. of course it was empty. no 1 as he withdrew the knife he heard a metallic clink, and when he introduced his hand it met with a cylindrical object lying on the floor of the hole. naturally enough, he picked it up, and when he brought it into the light, now fast fading, he could see that it, too, was of man's making—a metal tube about four inches long, and evidently of some considerable age. by the time parkins had made sure that there was nothing else in this odd receptacle, it was too late and too dark for him to think of undertaking any further search. what he had done had proved so unexpectedly interesting “oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 195 that he determined to sacrifice a little more of the daylight on the morrow to archaeology. the object which he now had safe in his pocket was bound to be of some slight value at least, he felt sure. bleak and solemn was the view on which he took a last look before starting homeward. a faint yellow light in the west showed the links, on which a few figures moving towards the club-house were still visible, the squat martello tower, the lights of aldsey village, the pale ribbon of sands intersected at intervals by black wooden groynings, the dim and murmuring sea. the wind was bitter from the north, but was at his back when he set out for the globe. he quickly rattled and clashed through the shingle and gained the sand, upon which, but for the groynings which had to be got over every few yards, the going was both good and quiet. one last look behind, to measure the distance he had made since leaving the ruined templars' church, showed him a prospect of company on his walk, in the shape of a rather indistinct personage in the distance, who 13–2 196 ghost-stories of an antiquary seemed to be making great efforts to catch up with him, but made little, if any, progress. i mean that there was an appearance of running about his movements, but that the distance between him and parkins did not seem materially to lessen. so, at least, parkins thought, and decided that he almost certainly did not know him, and that it would be absurd to wait until he came up. for all that, company, he began to think, would really be very welcome on that lonely shore, if only you could choose your companion. in his unenlightened days he had read of meetings in such places which even now would hardly bear thinking of. he went on thinking of them, however, until he reached home, and particularly of one which catches most people's fancy at some time of their childhood. “now i saw in my dream that christian had gone but a very little way when he saw a foul fiend coming over the field to meet him.” “what should i do now,” he thought, “if i looked back and caught sight of a black figure sharply defined against the yellow sky, and saw that it had horns and wings 2 i “oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 197 wonder whether i should stand or run for it. luckily, the gentleman behind is not of that kind, and he seems to be about as far off now as when i saw him first. well, at this rate he won't get his dinner as soon as i shall; and, dear me! it's within a quarter of an hour of the time now. i must run '' parkins had, in fact, very little time for dressing. when he met the colonel at dinner, peace —or as much of her as that gentleman could manage—reigned once more in the military bosom ; nor was she put to flight in the hours of bridge that followed dinner, for parkins was a more than respectable player. when, therefore, he retired towards twelve o'clock, he felt that he had spent his evening in quite a satisfactory way, and that, even for so long as a fortnight or three weeks, life at the globe would be supportable under similar conditions — especially, thought he, “if i go on improving my game.’ as he went along the passages he met the boots of the globe, who stopped and said: ‘beg your pardon, sir, but as i was a-brush198 ghost-stories of an antiquary ing your coat just now there was somethink fell out of the pocket. i put it on your chest of drawers, sir, in your room, sir—a piece of a pipe or somethink of that, sir. thank you, sir. you'll find it on your chest of drawers, sir—yes, sir. good-night, sir.’ the speech served to remind parkins of his little discovery of that afternoon. it was with some considerable curiosity that he turned it over by the light of his candles. it was of bronze, he now saw, and was shaped very much after the manner of the modern dog-whistle; in fact it was—yes, certainly it was—actually no more nor less than a whistle. he put it to his lips, but it was quite full of a fine, caked-up sand or earth, which would not yield to knocking, but must be loosened with a knife. tidy as ever in his habits, parkins cleared out the earth on to a piece of paper, and took the latter to the window to empty it out. the night was clear and bright, as he saw when he had opened the casement, and he stopped for an instant to look at the sea and note a belated wanderer stationed on the shore in front of the “oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 199 inn. then he shut the window, a little surprised at the late hours people kept at burnstow, and took his whistle to the light again. why, surely there were marks on it, and not merely marks, but letters 1 a very little rubbing rendered the deeply-cut inscription quite legible, but the professor had to confess, after some earnest thought, that the meaning of it was as obscure to him as the writing on the wall to belshazzar. there were legends both on the front and on the back of the whistle. the one read thus: (ir |f lºſ }3 is f f. l.g. the other : hrqzſts es'r isre: qui ugºn it-hº ‘i ought to be able to make it out,’ he thought ; “but i suppose i am a little rusty in my latin. when i come to think of it, i don't believe i even know the word for a whistle. the long one does seem simple 200 ghost-stories of an antiquary enough. it ought to mean, “who is this who is coming * well, the best way to find out is evidently to whistle for him.’ he blew tentatively and stopped suddenly, startled and yet pleased at the note he had elicited. it had a quality of infinite distance in it, and, soft as it was, he somehow felt it must be audible for miles round. it was a sound, too, that seemed to have the power (which many scents possess) of forming pictures in the brain. he saw quite clearly for a moment a vision of a wide, dark expanse at night, with a fresh wind blowing, and in the midst a lonely figure—how employed, he could not tell. perhaps he would have seen more had not the picture been broken by the sudden surge of a gust of wind against his casement, so sudden that it made him look up, just in time to see the white glint of a sea-bird's wing somewhere outside the dark panes. the sound of the whistle had so fascinated him that he could not help trying it once more, this time more boldly. the note was little, if at all, louder than before, and repetition broke “oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 201 the illusion—no picture followed, as he had half hoped it might. “but what is this 2 goodness what force the wind can get up in a few minutes what a tremendous gust 1 there ! i knew that window-fastening was no use ! ah! i thought so—both candles out. it is enough to tear the room to pieces.’ the first thing was to get the window shut. while you might count twenty parkins was struggling with the small casement, and felt almost as if he were pushing back a sturdy burglar, so strong was the pressure. it slackened all at once, and the window banged to and latched itself. now to relight the candles and see what damage, if any, had been done. no, nothing seemed amiss ; no glass even was broken in the casement. but the noise had evidently roused at least one member of the household: the colonel was to be heard stumping in his stockinged feet on the floor above, and growling. quickly as it had risen, the wind did not fall at once. on it went, moaning and rushing past the house, at times rising to a cry 202 ghost-stories of an antiquary so desolate that, as parkins disinterestedly said, it might have made fanciful people feel quite uncomfortable; even the unimaginative, he thought after a quarter of an hour, might be happier without it. whether it was the wind, or the excitement of golf, or of the researches in the preceptory that kept parkins awake, he was not sure. awake he remained, in any case, long enough to fancy (as i am afraid i often do myself under such conditions) that he was the victim of all manner of fatal disorders: he would lie counting the beats of his heart, convinced that it was going to stop work every moment, and would entertain grave suspicions of his lungs, brain, liver, etc.—suspicions which he was sure would be dispelled by the return of daylight, but which until then refused to be put aside. he found a little vicarious comfort in the idea that someone else was in the same boat. a near neighbour (in the darkness it was not easy to tell his direction) was tossing and rustling in his bed, too. the next stage was that parkins shut his “oh, whistle, and i'll come to you 203 eyes and determined to give sleep every chance. here again over-excitement asserted itself in another form — that of making pictures. eaperto crede, pictures do come to the closed eyes of one trying to sleep, and often his pictures are so little to his taste that he must open his eyes and disperse the images. parkins's experience on this occasion was a very distressing one. he found that the picture which presented itself to him was continuous. when he opened his eyes, of course, it went ; but when he shut them once more it framed itself afresh, and acted itself out again, neither quicker nor slower than before. what he saw was this: a long stretch of shore—shingle edged by sand, and intersected at short intervals with black groynes running down to the water—a scene, in fact, so like that of his afternoon's walk that, in the absence of any landmark, it could not be distinguished therefrom. the light was obscure, conveying an impression of gathering storm, late winter evening, and slight cold rain. on this bleak stage at first no actor 204 ghost-stories of an antiquary was visible. then, in the distance, a bobbing black object appeared; a moment more, and it was a man running, jumping, clambering over the groynes, and every few seconds looking eagerly back. the nearer he came the more obvious it was that he was not only anxious, but even terribly frightened, though his face was not to be distinguished. he was, moreover, almost at the end of his strength. on he came ; each successive obstacle seemed to cause him more difficulty than the last. “will he get over this next one º’ thought parkins; “it seems a little higher than the others.’ yes; half climbing, half throwing himself, he did get over, and fell all in a heap on the other side (the side nearest to the spectator). there, as if really unable to get up again, he remained crouching under the groyne, looking up in an attitude of painful anxiety. so far no cause whatever for the fear of the runner had been shown ; but now there began to be seen, far up the shore, a little flicker of something light-coloured moving to and fro with great swiftness and irregularity. rapidly *.v.lºſ ixnv （11), in iv-i „io gigi0, ili,li, v n v ni „in *) ni yio o'i “oh, whistle, and i'll come to you” 205 growing larger, it, too, declared itself as a figure in pale, fluttering draperies, ill-defined. there was something about its motion which made parkins very unwilling to see it at close quarters. it would stop, raise arms, bow itself toward the sand, then run stooping across the beach to the water-edge and back again; and then, rising upright, once more continue its course forward at a speed that was startling and terrifying. the moment came when the pursuer was hovering about from left to right only a few yards beyond the groyne where the runner lay in hiding. after two or three ineffectual castings hither and thither it came to a stop, stood upright, with arms raised high, and then darted straight forward towards the groyne. it was at this point that parkins always failed in his resolution to keep his eyes shut. with many misgivings as to incipient failure of eyesight, overworked brain, excessive smoking, and so on, he finally resigned himself to light his candle, get out a book, and pass the night waking, rather than be tormented by this per206 ghost-stories of an antiquary sistent panorama, which he saw clearly enough could only be a morbid reflection of his walk and his thoughts on that very day. the scraping of match on box and the glare of light must have startled some creatures of the night—rats or what not—which he heard scurry across the floor from the side of his bed with much rustling. dear, dear! the match is out ! fool that it is l but the second one burnt better, and a candle and book were duly procured, over which parkins pored till sleep of a wholesome kind came upon him, and that in no long space. for about the first time in his orderly and prudent life he forgot to blow out the candle, and when he was called next morning at eight there was still a flicker in the socket and a sad mess of guttered grease on the top of the little table. after breakfast he was in his room, putting the finishing touches to his golfing costume— fortune had again allotted the colonel to him for a partner—when one of the maids came in. ‘oh, if you please, she said, “would you like any extra blankets on your bed, sir? • oh, whistle, and i'll come to you” 207 “ah! thank you,” said parkins. “yes, i think i should like one. it seems likely to turn rather colder.” in a very short time the maid was back with the blanket. “which bed should i put it on, sir?' she asked. “what? why, that one—the one i slept in last night, he said, pointing to it. “oh yes! i beg your pardon, sir, but you seemed to have tried both of 'em ; leastways, we had to make 'em both up this morning.’ • really how very absurd i said parkins. ‘i certainly never touched the other, except to lay some things on it. did it actually seem to have been slept in º' “oh yes, sir!" said the maid. “why, all the things was crumpled and throwed about all ways, if you'll excuse me, sir — quite as if anyone 'adn't passed but a very poor night, sir.’ ‘dear me,’ said parkins. ‘well, i may have disordered it more than i thought when i unpacked my things. i’m very sorry to have given you the extra trouble, i’m sure. i 208 ghost-stories of an antiquary expect a friend of mine soon, by the way—a gentleman from cambridge—to come and occupy it for a night or two. that will be all right, i suppose, won't it º' “oh yes, to be sure, sir. thank you, sir. it's no trouble, i’m sure,” said the maid, and departed to giggle with her colleagues. parkins set forth, with a stern determination to improve his game. i am glad to be able to report that he succeeded so far in this enterprise that the colonel, who had been rather repining at the prospect of a second day's play in his company, became quite chatty as the morning advanced ; and his voice boomed out over the flats, as certain also of our own minor poets have said, ‘like some great bourdon in a minster tower.’ “extraordinary wind, that, we had last night,’ he said. “in my old home we should have said someone had been whistling for it.’ “should you, indeed i said parkins. “is there a superstition of that kind still current in your part of the country’ ‘i don't know about superstition,’ said the “oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 209 colonel. “they believe in it all over denmark and norway, as well as on the yorkshire coast; and my experience is, mind you, that there's generally something at the bottom of what these country-folk hold to, and have held to for generations. but it's your drive” (or whatever it might have been : the golfing reader will have to imagine appropriate digressions at the proper intervals). when conversation was resumed, parkins said, with a slight hesitancy: “apropos of what you were saying just now, colonel, i think i ought to tell you that my own views on such subjects are very strong. i am, in fact, a convinced disbeliever in what is called the “supernatural.” “what!" said the colonel, “do you mean to tell me you don't believe in second-sight, or ghosts, or anything of that kind?' “in nothing whatever of that kind, returned parkins firmly. “well,” said the colonel, “but it appears to me at that rate, sir, that you must be little better than a sadducee.’ 14 210 ghost-stories of an antiquary parkins was on the point of answering that, in his opinion, the sadducees were the most sensible persons he had ever read of in the old testament ; but, feeling some doubt as to whether much mention of them was to be found in that work, he preferred to laugh the accusation off. ‘perhaps i am, he said ; “but— here, give me my cleek, boy —excuse me one moment, colonel.” a short interval. “now, as to whistling for the wind, let me give you my theory about it. the laws which govern winds are really not at all perfectly known—to fisher-folk and such, of course, not known at all. a man or woman of eccentric habits, perhaps, or a stranger, is seen repeatedly on the beach at some unusual hour, and is heard whistling. soon afterwards a violent wind rises; a man who could read the sky perfectly or who possessed a barometer could have foretold that it would. the simple people of a fishing-village have no barometers, and only a few rough rules for prophesying weather. what more natural than that the “oh, whistle, and tll come to you” 211 eccentric personage i postulated should be regarded as having raised the wind, or that he or she should clutch eagerly at the reputation of being able to do so : now, take last night's wind: as it happens, i myself was whistling. i blew a whistle twice, and the wind seemed to come absolutely in answer to my call. if anyone had seen me the audience had been a little restive under this harangue, and parkins had, i fear, fallen somewhat into the tone of a lecturer; but at the last sentence the colonel stopped. “whistling, were you ?' he said. “and what sort of whistle did you use ? play this stroke first.’ interval. ‘about that whistle you were asking, colonel. it's rather a curious one. i have it in my no ; i see i’ve left it in my room. as a matter of fact, i found it yesterday.” and then parkins narrated the manner of his discovery of the whistle, upon hearing which the colonel grunted, and opined that, in parkins's place, he should himself be careful about using a thing that had belonged to a set 14–2 212 ghost-stories of an antiquary of papists, of whom, speaking generally, it might be affirmed that you never knew what they might not have been up to. from this topic he diverged to the enormities of the vicar, who had given notice on the previous sunday that friday would be the feast of st. thomas the apostle, and that there would be service at eleven o'clock in the church. this and other similar proceedings constituted in the colonel's view a strong presumption that the vicar was a concealed papist, if not a jesuit ; and parkins, who could not very readily follow the colonel in this region, did not disagree with him. in fact, they got on so well together in the morning that there was no talk on either side of their separating after lunch. both continued to play well during the afternoon, or, at least, well enough to make them forget everything else until the light began to fail them. not until then did parkins remember that he had meant to do some more investigating at the preceptory; but it was of no great importance, he reflected. one day “oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 213 was as good as another ; he might as well go home with the colonel. as they turned the corner of the house, the colonel was almost knocked down by a boy who rushed into him at the very top of his speed, and then, instead of running away, remained hanging on to him and panting. the first words of the warrior were naturally those of reproof and objurgation, but he very quickly discerned that the boy was almost speechless with fright. inquiries were useless at first. when the boy got his breath he began to howl, and still clung to the colonel's legs. he was at last detached, but continued to howl. “what in the world is the matter with you? what have you been up to ? what have you seen 2' said the two men. * ow, i seen it wive at me out of the winder,’ wailed the boy, “and i don't like it.' “what window 7" said the irritated colonel. ‘come, pull yourself together, my boy.’ “the front winder it was, at the 'otel,” said the boy. at this point parkins was in favour of send214 ghost-stories of an antiquary ing the boy home, but the colonel refused; he wanted to get to the bottom of it, he said: it was most dangerous to give a boy such a fright as this one had had, and if it turned out that people had been playing jokes, they should suffer for it in some way. and by a series of questions he made out this story: the boy had been playing about on the grass in front of the globe with some others; then they had gone home to their teas, and he was just going, when he happened to look up at the front winder and see it a-wiving at him. it seemed to be a figure of some sort, in white as far as he knew—couldn't see its face; but it wived at him, and it warn’t a right thing—not to say not a right person. was there a light in the room ? no, he didn't think to look if there was a light. which was the window-? was it the top one or the second one the seckind one it was—the big winder what got two little uns at the sides. “very well, my boy,” said the colonel, after a few more questions. “you run away home now. i expect it was some person trying to “oh, whistle, and i'll come to you” 215 give you a start. another time, like a brave english boy, you just throw a stone—well, no, not that exactly, but you go and speak to the waiter, or to mr. simpson, the landlord, and— yes—and say that i advised you to do so.’ the boy's face expressed some of the doubt he felt as to the likelihood of mr. simpson's lending a favourable ear to his complaint, but the colonel did not appear to perceive this, and went on : “and here's a sixpence—no, i see it's a shilling—and you be off home, and don't think any more about it.' the youth hurried off with agitated thanks. and the colonel and parkins went round to the front of the globe and reconnoitred. there was only one window answering to the descrip•tion they had been hearing. “well, that's curious,” said parkins; “it’s evidently my window the lad was talking about. will you come up for a moment, colonel wilson 2 we ought to be able to see if anyone has been taking liberties in my room.’ 216 ghost-stories of an antiquary they were soon in the passage, and parkins made as if to open the door. then he stopped and felt in his pockets. “this is more serious than i thought,’ was his next remark. “i remember now that before i started this morning i locked the door. it is locked now, and, what is more, here is the key.’ and he held it up. “now, he went on, “if the servants are in the habit of going into one's room during the day when one is away, i can only say that—well, that i don't approve of it at all.’ conscious of a somewhat weak climax, he busied himself in opening the door (which was indeed locked) and in lighting candles, ‘no,' he said, “nothing scems disturbed.' “except your bed,’ put in the colonel. • excuse me, that isn't my bed,' said parkins. “i don't use that one. but it does look as if someone had been playing tricks with it.' it certainly did : the clothes were bundled up and twisted together in a most tortuous confusion. parkins pondered. ‘that must be it,' he said at last : “i dis• oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 217 ordered the clothes last night in unpacking, and they haven't made it since. perhaps they came in to make it, and that boy saw them through the window ; and then they were called away and locked the door after them. yes, i think that must be it.” “well, ring and ask,' said the colonel, and this appealed to parkins as practical. the maid appeared, and, to make a long story short, deposed that she had made the bed in the morning when the gentleman was in the room, and hadn't been there since. no, she hadn't no other key. mr. simpson he kep' the keys; he'd be able to tell the gentleman if anyone had been up. this was a puzzle. investigation showed that nothing of value had been taken, and parkins remembered the disposition of the small objects on tables and so forth well enough to be pretty sure that no pranks had been played with them. mr. and mrs. simpson furthermore agreed that neither of them had given the duplicate key of the room to any person whatever during the day. nor could 218 ghost-stories of an antiquary parkins, fair-minded man as he was, detect anything in the demeanour of master, mistress, or maid that indicated guilt. he was much more inclined to think that the boy had been imposing on the colonel. the latter was unwontedly silent and pensive at dinner and throughout the evening. when he bade good-night to parkins, he murmured in a gruff undertone: ‘you know where i am if you want me during the night.” “why, yes, thank you, colonel wilson, i think i do; but there isn't much prospect of my disturbing you, i hope. by the way,” he added, “did i show you that old whistle i spoke of 2 i think not. well, here it is.’ the colonel turned it over gingerly in the light of the candle. ‘can you make anything of the inscription ? asked parkins, as he took it back. ‘no, not in this light. what do you mean to do with it !” ‘oh, well, when i get back to cambridge i shall submit it to some of the archaeologists • oh, whistle, and ill come to you” 219 there, and see what they think of it; and very likely, if they consider it worth having, i may present it to one of the museums.” ‘’m ('said the colonel. ‘well, you may be right. all i know is that, if it were mine, i should chuck it straight into the sea. it's no use talking, i’m well aware, but i expect that with you it's a case of live and learn. i hope so, i'm sure, and i wish you a good-night.” he turned away, leaving parkins in act to speak at the bottom of the stair, and soon each was in his own bedroom. by some unfortunate accident, there were neither blinds nor curtains to the windows of the professor's room. the previous night he had thought little of this, but to-night there seemed every prospect of a bright moon rising to shine directly on his bed, and probably wake him later on. when he noticed this he was a good deal annoyed, but, with an ingenuity which i can only envy, he succeeded in rigging up, with the help of a railway-rug, some safetypins, and a stick and umbrella, a screen which, if it only held together, would completely keep 220 ghost-stories of an antiquary the moonlight off his bed. and shortly afterwards he was comfortably in that bed. when he had read a somewhat solid work long enough to produce a decided wish for sleep, he cast a drowsy glance round the room, blew out the candle, and fell back upon the pillow. he must have slept soundly for an hour or more, when a sudden clatter shook him up in a most unwelcome manner. in a moment he realized what had happened: his carefullyconstructed screen had given way, and a very bright frosty moon was shining directly on his face. this was highly annoying. could he possibly get up and reconstruct the screen 3 or could he manage to sleep if he did not ? for some minutes he lay and pondered over the possibilities; then he turned over sharply, and with all his eyes open lay breathlessly listening. there had been a movement, he was sure, in the empty bed on the opposite side of the room. to-morrow he would have it moved, for there must be rats or something playing about in it. it was quiet now. no | the commotion began again. there was a • oh, whistle, and i'll come to you” 221 rustling and shaking: surely more than any rat could cause i can figure to myself something of the professor's bewilderment and horror, for i have in a dream thirty years back seen the same thing happen; but the reader will hardly, perhaps, imagine how dreadful it was to him to see a figure suddenly sit up in what he had known was an empty bed. he was out of his own bed in one bound, and made a dash towards the window, where lay his only weapon, the stick with which he had propped his screen. this was, as it turned out, the worst thing he could have done, because the personage in the empty bed, with a sudden smooth motion, slipped from the bed and took up a position, with outspread arms, between the two beds, and in front of the door. parkins watched it in a horrid perplexity. somehow, the idea of getting past it and escaping through the door was intolerable to him ; he could not have borne—he didn't know why—to touch it; and as for its touching him, he would sooner dash himself through the 222 ghost-stories of an antiquary window than have that happen. it stood for the moment in a band of dark shadow, and he had not seen what its face was like. now it began to move, in a stooping posture, and all at once the spectator realized, with some horror and some relief, that it must be blind, for it seemed to feel about it with its muffled arms in a groping and random fashion. turning half away from him, it became suddenly conscious of the bed he had just left, and darted towards it, and bent and felt over the pillows in a way which made parkins shudder as he had never in his life thought it possible. in a very few moments it seemed to know that the bed was empty, and then, moving forward into the area of light and facing the window, it showed for the first time what manner of thing it was. parkins, who very much dislikes being questioned about it, did once describe something of it in my hearing, and i gathered that what he chiefly remembers about it is a horrible, an intensely horrible, face of crumpled linen. what expression he read upon it he i # 5 s = = ------, …，− − ---“oh, whistle, and tll come to you” 223 could not or would not tell, but that the fear of it went nigh to maddening him is certain. but he was not at leisure to watch it for long. with formidable quickness it moved into the middle of the room, and, as it groped and waved, one corner of its draperies swept across parkins's face. he could not, though he knew how perilous a sound was — he could not keep back a cry of disgust, and this gave the searcher an instant clue. it leapt towards him upon the instant, and the next moment he was halfway through the window backwards, uttering cry upon cry at the utmost pitch of his voice, and the linen face was thrust close into his own. at this, almost the last possible second, deliverance came, as you will have guessed: the colonel burst the door open, and was just in time to see the dreadful group at the window. when he reached the figures only one was left. parkins sank forward into the room in a faint, and before him on the floor lay a tumbled heap of bed-clothes. colonel wilson asked no questions, but 224 ghost-stories of an antiquary busied himself keeping everyone else out of the room and in getting parkins back to his bed; and himself, wrapped in a rug, occupied the other bed, for the rest of the night. early on the next day rogers arrived, more welcome than he would have been a day before, and the three of them held a very long consultation in the professor's room. at the end of it the colonel left the hotel door carrying a small object between his finger and thumb, which he cast as far into the sea as a very brawny arm could send it. later on the smoke of a burning ascended from the back premises of the globe. exactly what explanation was patched up for the staff and visitors at the hotel i must confess i do not recollect. the professor was somehow cleared of the ready suspicion of delirium tremens, and the hotel of the reputation of a troubled house. there is not much question as to what would have happened to parkins if the colonel had not intervened when he did. he would either have fallen out of the window “oh, whistle, and i ll come to you 225 or else lost his wits. but it is not so evident what more the creature that came in answer to the whistle could have done than frighten. there seemed to be absolutely nothing material about it save the bed-clothes of which it had made itself a body. the colonel, who remembered a not very dissimilar occurrence in india, was of opinion that if parkins had closed with it it could really have done very little, and that its one power was that of frightening. the whole thing, he said, served to confirm his opinion of the church of rome. there is really nothing more to tell, but, as you may imagine, the professor's views on certain points are less clear cut than they used to be. his nerves, too, have suffered: he cannot even now see a surplice hanging on a door quite unmoved, and the spectacle of a scarecrow in a field late on a winter afternoon has cost him more than one sleepless night. i5 the treasure of abbot thomas 227 15–2 the treasure of abbot thomas i. * verum usque in præsentem diem multa garriunt inter se canonici de abscondito quodam istius abbatis thomæ thesauro, quem sæpe, quanquam adhuc incassum quæsiverunt steinfeldenses. ipsum enim thomam adhuc florida in ætate existentem ingentem auri massam circa monasterium defodisse perhibent ; de quo multoties interrogatus ubi esset, cum risu respondere solitus erat: “job, johannes, et zacharias vel vobis vel posteris indicabunt"; idemque aliquando adiicere se inventuris minime invisurum. inter alia huius abbatis opera, hoc memoria præcipue dignum iudico quod fenestram magnam in orientali parte alæ australis in ecclesia sua imaginibus 229 230 ghost-stories of an antiquary optime in vitro depictis impleverit: id quod et ipsius effigies et insignia ibidem posita demonstrant. domum quoque abbatialem fere totam restauravit: puteo in atrio ipsius effosso et lapidibus marmoreis pulchre caelatis exornato. decessit autem, morte aliquantulum subitanea perculsus, aetatis suae anno lxxii”, incarnationis vero dominiae maxxix”.’ “i suppose i shall have to translate this,' said the antiquary to himself, as he finished copying the above lines from that rather rare and exceedingly diffuse book, the ‘sertum steinfeldense norbertinum.” “well, it may as well be done first as last,’ and accordingly the following rendering was very quickly produced: “up to the present day there is much gossip among the canons about a certain hidden treasure of this abbot thomas, for which * an account of the premonstratensian abbey of steinfeld, in the eiffel, with lives of the abbots, published at cologne in 1712 by christian albert erhard, a resident in the district. the epithet norbertinum is due to the fact that st. norbert was founder of the premonstratensian order. the treasure of abbot thomas 231 those of steinfeld have often made search, though hitherto in vain. the story is that thomas, while yet in the vigour of life, concealed a very large quantity of gold somewhere in the monastery. he was often asked where it was, and always answered, with a laugh: “job, john, and zechariah will tell either you or your successors.” he sometimes added that he should feel no grudge against those who might find it. among other works carried out by this abbot i may specially mention his filling the great window at the east end of the south aisle of the church with figures admirably painted on glass, as his effigy and arms in the window attest. he also restored almost the whole of the abbot's lodging, and dug a well in the court of it, which he adorned with beautiful carvings in marble. he died rather suddenly in the seventy-second year of his age, a.d. 1529.’ the object which the antiquary had before him at the moment was that of tracing the whereabouts of the painted windows of the abbey church of steinfeld. shortly after the 232 ghost-stories of an antiquary revolution, a very large quantity of painted glass had made its way from the dissolved abbeys of germany and belgium to this country, and may now be seen adorning various of our parish churches, cathedrals, and private chapels. steinfeld abbey was among the most considerable of these involuntary contributors to our artistic possessions (i am quoting the somewhat ponderous preamble of the book which the antiquary wrote), and the greater part of the glass from that institution can be identified without much difficulty by the help, either of the numerous inscriptions in which the place is mentioned, or of the subjects of the windows, in which several well-defined cycles or narratives were represented. the passage with which i began my story had set the antiquary on the track of another identification. in a private chapel—no matter where—he had seen three large figures, each occupying a whole light in a window, and evidently the work of one artist. their style made it plain that that artist had been a german of the sixteenth century; but hitherto the treasure of abbot thomas 233 the more exact localizing of them had been a puzzle. they represented—will you be surprised to hearit?—job patriarcha, johannes evangelista, zacharias propheta, and each of them held a book or scroll, inscribed with a sentence from his writings. these, as a matter of course, the antiquary had noted, and had been struck by the curious way in which they differed from any text of the vulgate that he had been able to examine. thus the scroll in job's hand was inscribed: ‘auro est locus in quo absconditur" (for ‘conflatur’)*; on the book of john was: ‘habent in vestimentis suis scripturam quam nemo novit’t (for ‘in vestimento scriptum, the following words being taken from another verse); and zacharias had : “super lapidem unum septem oculi sunt’ (which alone of the three presents an unaltered text). a sad perplexity it had been to our investi* there is a place for gold where it is hidden. + they have on their raiment a writing which no man knoweth. : upon one stone are seven eyes. 234 ghost-stories of an antiquary gator to think why these three personages should have been placed together in one window. there was no bond of connection between them, either historic, symbolic, or doctrinal, and he could only suppose that they must have formed part of a very large series of prophets and apostles, which might have filled, say, all the clerestory windows of some capacious church. but the passage from the “sertum” had altered the situation by showing that the names of the actual personages represented in the glass now in lord d–’s chapel had been constantly on the lips of abbot thomas von eschenhausen of steinfeld, and that this abbot had put up a painted widow, probably about the year 1520, in the south aisle of his abbey church. it was no very wild conjecture that the three figures might have formed part of abbot thomas's offering; it was one which, moreover, could probably be confirmed or set aside by another careful examination of the glass. and, as mr. somerton was a man of leisure, he set out on pilgrimage to the private chapel with very little delay. the treasure of abbot thomas 235 his conjecture was confirmed to the full. not only did the style and technique of the glass suit perfectly with the date and place required, but in another window of the chapel he found some glass, known to have been bought along with the figures, which contained the arms of abbot thomas von eschenhausen. at intervals during his researches mr. somerton had been haunted by the recollection of the gossip about the hidden treasure, and, as he thought the matter over, it became more and more obvious to him that if the abbot meant anything by the enigmatical answer which he gave to his questioners, he must have meant that the secret was to be found somewhere in the window he had placed in the abbey church. it was undeniable, furthermore, that the first of the curiouslyselected texts on the scrolls in the window might be taken to have a reference to hidden treasure. every feature, therefore, or mark which could possibly assist in elucidating the riddle 236 ghost-stories of an antiquary which, he felt sure, the abbot had set to posterity he noted with scrupulous care, and, returning to his berkshire manor-house, consumed many a pint of the midnight oil over his tracings and sketches. after two or three weeks, a day came when mr. somerton announced to his man that he must pack his own and his master's things for a short journey abroad, whither for the moment we will not follow him. ii. mr. gregory, the rector of parsbury, had strolled out before breakfast, it being a fine autumn morning, as far as the gate of his carriage-drive, with intent to meet the postman and sniff the cool air. nor was he disappointed of either purpose. before he had had time to answer more than ten or eleven of the miscellaneous questions propounded to him in the lightness of their hearts by his young offspring, who had accompanied him, the postman was seen approaching; and the treasure of abbot thomas 237 among the morning's budget was one letter bearing a foreign postmark and stamp (which became at once the objects of an eager competition among the youthful gregorys), and was addressed in an uneducated, but plainly an english hand. when the rector opened it, and turned to the signature, he realized that it came from the confidential valet of his friend and squire, mr. somerton. thus it ran: “honourd sir, “has i am in a great anxeity about master i write at is wish to beg you sir if you could be so good as step over. master has add a nastey shock and keeps his bedd. i never have known him like this but no wonder and nothing will serve but you sir. master says would i mintion the short way here is drive to cobblince and take a trap. hopeing i have maid all plain, but am much confused in myself what with anxiatey and weakfulness at night. if i might be so bold sir it will be a pleasure to 238 ghost-stories of an antiquary see a honnest brish face among all these forig ones. * i am sir ‘your obedt servt ‘william brown. ‘p.s.—the villiage for town i will not turm. it is name steenfeld.’ the reader must be left to picture to himself in detail the surprise, confusion and hurry of preparation into which the receipt of such a letter would be likely to plunge a quiet berkshire parsonage in the year of grace 1859. it is enough for me to say that a train to town was caught in the course of the day, and that mr. gregory was able to secure a cabin in the antwerp boat and a place in the coblentz train. nor was it difficult to manage the transit from that centre to steinfeld. i labour under a grave disadvantage as narrator of this story in that i have never visited steinfeld myself, and that neither of the principal actors in the episode (from whom i derive my information) was able to give me the treasure of abbot thomas 239 anything but a vague and rather dismal idea of its appearance. i gather that it is a small place, with a large church despoiled of its ancient fittings; a number of rather ruinous great buildings, mostly of the seventeenth century, surround this church; for the abbey, in common with most of those on the continent, was rebuilt in a luxurious fashion by its inhabitants at that period. it has not seemed to me worth while to lavish money on a visit to the place, for though it is probably far more attractive than either mr. somerton or mr. gregory thought it, there is evidently little, if anything, of first-rate interest to be seen— except, perhaps, one thing, which i should not care to see. the inn where the english gentleman and his servant were lodged is, or was, the only ‘possible’ one in the village. mr. gregory was taken to it at once by his driver, and found mr. brown waiting at the door. mr. brown, a model when in his berkshire home of the impassive whiskered race who are known as confidential valets, was now egre240 ghost-stories of an antiquary giously out of his element, in a light tweed suit, anxious, almost irritable, and plainly anything but master of the situation. his relief at the sight of the ‘honest british face” of his rector was unmeasured, but words to describe it were denied him. he could only say: “well, i ham pleased, i’m sure, sir, to see you. and so i'm sure, sir, will master.’ ‘how is your master, brown º' mr. gregory eagerly put in. “i think he's better, sir, thank you; but he's had a dreadful time of it. i'ope he's gettin' some sleep now, but— “what has been the matter—i couldn't make out from your letter ? was it an accident of any kind º' “well, sir, i 'ardly know whether i’d better speak about it. master was very partickler he should be the one to tell you. but there's no bones broke—that's one thing i’m sure we ought to be thankful— “what does the doctor say ?’ asked mr. gregory. they were by this time outside mr. somerthe treasure of abbot thomas 241 ton's bedroom door, and speaking in low tones. mr. gregory, who happened to be in front, was feeling for the handle, and chanced to run his fingers over the panels. before brown could answer, there was a terrible cry from within the room. “in god's name, who is that ?" were the first words they heard. ‘brown, is it !” ‘yes, sir—me, sir, and mr. gregory, brown hastened to answer, and there was an audible groan of relief in reply. they entered the room, which was darkened against the afternoon sun, and mr. gregory saw, with a shock of pity, how drawn, how damp with drops of fear, was the usually calm face of his friend, who, sitting up in the curtained bed, stretched out a shaking hand to welcome him. “better for seeing you, my dear gregory,’ was the reply to the rector's first question; and it was palpably true. after five minutes of cenversation mr. somerton was more his own man, brown afterwards reported, than he had been for i6 242 ghost-stories of an antiquary days. he was able to eat a more than respectable dinner, and talked confidently of being fit to stand a journey to coblentz within twenty-four hours. “but there's one thing,” he said, with a return of agitation which mr. gregory did not like to see, “which i must beg you to do for me, my dear gregory. don't,' he went on, laying his hand on gregory's to forestall any interruption—“don’t ask me what it is, or why i want it done. i’m not up to explaining it yet ; it would throw me back—undo all the good you have done me by coming. the only word i will say about it is that you run no risk whatever by doing it, and that brown can and will show you to-morrow what it is. it's merely to put back—to keep—something— no ; i can't speak of it yet. do you mind calling brown º' “well, somerton,’ said mr. gregory, as he crossed the room to the door, ‘i won’t ask for any explanations till you see fit to give them. and if this bit of business is as easy as you represent it to be, i will very gladly underthe treasure of abbot thomas 243 take it for you the first thing in the morn2 ing. “ah, i was sure you would, my dear gregory; i was certain i could rely on you. i shall owe you more thanks than i can tell. now, here is brown. brown, one word with you.’ “shall i go º' interjected mr. gregory. * not at all. dear me, no. brown, the first thing to-morrow morning—(you don't mind early hours, i know, gregory)—you must take the rector to—there, you know’ (a nod from brown, who looked grave and anxious), ‘and he and you will put that back. you needn't be in the least alarmed ; it's perfectly safe in the daytime. you know what i mean. it lies on the step, you know, where —where we put it.' (brown swallowed dryly once or twice, and, failing to speak, bowed.) “and—yes, that's all. only this one other word, my dear gregory. if you can manage to keep from questioning brown about this matter, i shall be still more bound to you. to-morrow evening, at latest, if all goes well, i shall be able, i believe, to tell you the whole 16–2 244 ghost-stories of an antiquary story from start to finish. and now i'll wish you good-night. brown will be with me—he sleeps here—and if i were you, i should lock my door. yes, be particular to do that. they—they like it, the people here, and it's better. good-night, good-night.’ they parted upon this, and if mr. gregory woke once or twice in the small hours and fancied he heard a fumbling about the lower part of his locked door, it was, perhaps, no more than what a quiet man, suddenly plunged into a strange bed and the heart of a mystery, might reasonably expect. certainly he thought, to the end of his days, that he had heard such a sound twice or three times between midnight and dawn. he was up with the sun, and out in company with brown soon after. perplexing as was the service he had been asked to perform for mr. somerton, it was not a difficult or an alarming one, and within half an hour from his leaving the inn it was over. what it was i shall not as yet divulge. later in the morning mr. somerton, now the treasure of abbot thomas 245 almost himself again, was able to make a start from steinfeld; and that same evening, whether at coblentz or at some intermediate stage on the journey i am not certain, he settled down to the promised explanation. brown was present, but how much of the matter was ever really made plain to his comprehension he would never say, and i am unable to conjecture. iii. this was mr. somerton's story: ‘you know roughly, both of you, that this expedition of mine was undertaken with the object of tracing something in connection with some old painted glass in lord d 's private chapel. well, the starting-point of the whole matter lies in this passage from an old printed book, to which i will ask your attention.’ and at this point mr. somerton went carefully over some ground with which we are already familiar. 246 ghost-stories of an antiquary “on my second visit to the chapel, he went on, “my purpose was to take every note i could of figures, lettering, diamond-scratchings on the glass, and even apparently accidental markings. the first point which i tackled was that of the inscribed scrolls. i could not doubt that the first of these, that of job— “there is a place for the gold where it is hidden"—with its intentional alteration, must refer to the treasure; so i applied myself with some confidence to the next, that of st. john— “they have on their vestures a writing which no man knoweth.” the natural question will have occurred to you: was there an inscription on the robes of the figures 2 i could see none; each of the three had a broad black border to his mantle, which made a conspicuous and rather ugly feature in the window. i was nonplussed, i will own, and but for a curious bit of luck i think i should have left the search where the canons of steinfeld had left it before me. but it so happened that there was a good deal of dust on the surface of the glass, and lord d , happening the treasure of abbot thomas 247 to come in, noticed my blackened hands, and kindly insisted on sending for a turk's head broom to clean down the window. there must, i suppose, have been a rough piece in the broom ; anyhow, as it passed over the border of one of the mantles, i noticed that it left a long scratch, and that some yellow stain instantly showed up. i asked the man to stop his work for a moment, and ran up the ladder to examine the place. the yellow stain was there, sure enough, and what had come away was a thick black pigment, which had evidently been laid on with the brush after the glass had been burnt, and could therefore be easily scraped off without doing any harm. i scraped, accordingly, and you will hardly believe—no, i do you an injustice; you will have guessed already—that i found under this black pigment two or three clearly-formed capital letters in yellow stain on a clear ground. of course, i could hardly contain my delight. “i told lord d— that i had detected an inscription which i thought might be very 248 ghost-stories of an antiquary interesting, and begged to be allowed to uncover the whole of it. he made no difficulty about it whatever, told me to do exactly as i pleased, and then, having an engagement, was obliged—rather to my relief, i must say—to leave me. i set to work at once, and found the task a fairly easy one. the pigment, disintegrated, of course, by time, came off almost at a touch, and i don't think that it took me a couple of hours, all told, to clean the whole of the black borders in all three lights. each of the figures had, as the inscription said, “a writing on their vestures which nobody knew.” ‘this discovery, of course, made it absolutely certain to my mind that i was on the right track. and, now, what was the inscription ? while i was cleaning the glass i almost took pains not to read the lettering, saving up the treat until i had got the whole thing clear. and when that was done, my dear gregory, i assure you i could almost have cried from sheer disappointment. what i read was only the most hopeless jumble of the treasure of abbot thomas 249 letters that was ever shaken up in a hat. here it is: job. dreviciopedmoomsmvivlislc avibasbataovt st. john. rdiieamrlesipvspodseeirset taaesgiavnnr zechariah. fteeailnqdpvaivmtleeattoh ioonvmcaat.h.q.e. * blank as i felt and must have looked for the first few minutes, my disappointment didn't last long. i realized almost at once that i was dealing with a cipher or cryptogram; and i reflected that it was likely to be of a pretty simple kind, considering its early date. so i copied the letters with the most anxious care. another little point, i may tell you, turned up in the process which confirmed my belief in the cipher. after copying the letters on job's robe i counted them, to make sure that i had them right. there were thirty-eight; and, just as i finished going through them, my eye fell on a scratching made with a sharp point on the edge of the border. it was simply the number xxxviii 250 ghost-stories of an antiquary in roman numerals. to cut the matter short, there was a similar note, as i may call it, in each of the other lights; and that made it plain to me that the glass-painter had had very strict orders from abbot thomas about the inscription, and had taken pains to get it correct. “well, after that discovery you may imagine how minutely i went over the whole surface of the glass in search of further light. of course, i did not neglect the inscription on the scroll of zechariah—“upon one stone are seven eyes,” but i very quickly concluded that this must refer to some mark on a stone which could only be found in situ, where the treasure was concealed. to be short, i made all possible notes and sketches and tracings, and then came back to parsbury to work out the cipher at leisure. oh, the agonies i went through ' i thought myself very clever at first, for i made sure that the key would be found in some of the old books on secret writing. the “steganographia’’ of joachim trithemius, who was an earlier contemporary of abbot the treasure of abbot thomas 251 thomas, seemed particularly promising; so i got that, and selenius's “cryptographia" and bacon “de augmentis scientiarum,” and some more. but i could hit upon nothing. then i tried the principle of the “most frequent letter,” taking first latin and then german as a basis. that didn't help, either; whether it ought to have done so, i am not clear. and then i came back to the window itself, and read over my notes, hoping almost against hope that the abbot might himself have somewhere supplied the key i wanted. i could make nothing out of the colour or pattern of the robes. there were no landscape backgrounds with subsidiary objects ; there was nothing in the canopies. the only resource possible seemed to be in the attitudes of the figures. “job,” i read: “scroll in left hand, forefinger of left hand extended upwards. john : holds inscribed book in left hand; with right hand blesses, with two fingers. zechariah: scroll in left hand ; right hand extended upwards, as job, but with three fingers pointing up.” in other words, i reflected, job has 252 ghost-stories of an antiquary one finger extended, john has two, zechariah has three. may not there be a numeral key concealed in that ? my dear gregory,” said mr. somerton, laying his hand on his friend's knee, “that was the key. i didn't get it to fit at first, but after two or three trials i saw what was meant. after the first letter of the inscription you skip one letter, after the next you skip two, and after that skip three. now look at the result i got. i've underlined the letters which form words: dreviciopedmoomsmvtvlisloavibas bataovt rdieamrlesipvspopsbeirsettaaes giavnnr fteeailnqdpvaivmtleeattohioonv mcaat.h.q.e. “do you see it “ decem millia auri reposita sunt in puteo in at . . .” (ten thousand [pieces] of gold are laid up in a well in . . .), followed by an incomplete word beginning at. so far so good. i tried the same plan the treasure of abbot thomas 253 with the remaining letters; but it wouldn't work, and i fancied that perhaps the placing of dots after the three last letters might indicate some difference of procedure. then i thought to myself, “wasn't there some allusion to a well in the account of abbot thomas in that book the ‘sertum ”? yes, there was: he built a puteus in atrio (a well in the court). there, of course, was my word atrio. the next step was to copy out the remaining letters of the inscription, omitting those i had already used. that gave what you will see on this slip: rviiopdoosmvviscavbsbtaotdieamlsiv spdeersetaegianrfeealqdvaimleatth oovmca.h.q.e. ‘now, i knew what the three first letters i wanted were—namely, rio—to complete the word atrio; and, as you will see, these are all to be found in the first five letters. i was a little confused at first by the occurrence of two is, but very soon i saw that every alternate letter must be taken in the remainder of the inscription. you can work it out for yourself; the 254 ghost-stories of an antiquary result, continuing where the first “round" left off, is this : “rio domus abbatialis de steinfeld a me, thoma, qui posui custodem super ea. gare à qui la touche.” “so the whole secret was out: “ten thousand pieces of gold are laid up in the well in the court of the abbot's house of steinfeld by me, thomas, who have set a guardian over them. gare a quí la touche.” ‘the last words, i ought to say, are a device which abbot thomas had adopted. i found it with his arms in another piece of glass at lord d 's, and he drafted it bodily into his cipher, though it doesn't quite fit in point of grammar. “well, what would any human being have been tempted to do, my dear gregory, in my place 3 could he have helped setting off, as i did, to steinfeld, and tracing the secret literally to the fountain-head 2 i don't believe he could. anyhow, i couldn't, and, as i needn't tell you, i found myself at steinfeld as soon as the resources of civilization could put me the treasure of abbot thomas 255 there, and installed myself in the inn you saw. i must tell you that i was not altogether free from forebodings—on one hand of disappointment, on the other of danger. there was always the possibility that abbot thomas's well might have been wholly obliterated, or else that someone, ignorant of cryptograms, and guided only by luck, might have stumbled on the treasure before me. and then –there was a very perceptible shaking of the voice here—“i was not entirely easy, i need not mind confessing, as to the meaning of the words about the guardian of the treasure. but, if you don't mind, i’ll say no more about that until—until it becomes necessary. “at the first possible opportunity brown and i began exploring the place. i had naturally represented myself as being interested in the remains of the abbey, and we could not avoid paying a visit to the church, impatient as i was to be elsewhere. still, it did interest me to see the windows where the glass had been, and especially that at the east end of the south aisle. in the tracery lights of that i was 256 ghost-stories of an antiquary startled to see some fragments and coats-ofarms remaining—abbot thomas's shield was there, and a small figure with a scroll inscribed “oculos habent, et non videbunt” (they have eyes, and shall not see), which, i take it, was a hit of the abbot at his canons. “but, of course, the principal object was to find the abbot's house. there is no prescribed place for this, so far as i know, in the plan of a monastery; you can't predict of it, as you can of the chapter-house, that it will be on the eastern side of the cloister, or, as of the dormitory, that it will communicate with a transept of the church. i felt that if i asked many questions i might awaken lingering memories of the treasure, and i thought it best to try first to discover it for myself. it was not a very long or difficult search. that three-sided court south-east of the church, with deserted piles of building round it, and grass-grown pavement, which you saw this morning, was the place. and glad enough i was to see that it was put to no use, and was neither very far from our inn nor overthe treasure of abbot thomas 257 looked by any inhabited building; there were only orchards and paddocks on the slopes east of the church. i can tell you that fine stone glowed wonderfully in the rather watery yellow sunset that we had on the tuesday afternoon. “next, what about the well ? there was not much doubt about that, as you can testify. it is really a very remarkable thing. that curb is, i think, of italian marble, and the carving i thought must be italian also. there were reliefs, you will perhaps remember, of eliezer and rebekah, and of jacob opening the well for rachel, and similar subjects; but, by way of disarming suspicion, i suppose, the abbot had carefully abstained from any of his cynical and allusive inscriptions. “i examined the whole structure with the keenest interest, of course—a square well-head with an opening in one side; an arch over it, with a wheel for the rope to pass over, evidently in very good condition still, for it had been used within sixty years, or perhaps even later, though not quite recently. then there 17 258 ghost-stories of an antiquary was the question of depth and access to the interior. i suppose the depth was about sixty to seventy feet; and as to the other point, it really seemed as if the abbot had wished to lead searchers up to the very door of his treasurehouse, for, as you tested for yourself, there were big blocks of stone bonded into the masonry, and leading down in a regular staircase round and round the inside of the well. “it seemed almost too good to be true. i wondered if there was a trap—if the stones were so contrived as to tip over when a weight was placed on them; but i tried a good many with my own weight and with my stick, and all seemed, and actually were, perfectly firm. of course, i resolved that brown and i would make an experiment that very night. “i was well prepared. knowing the sort of place i should have to explore, i had brought a sufficiency of good rope and bands of webbing to surround my body, and crossbars to hold to, as well as lanterns and candles and the treasure of abbot thomas 259 crowbars, all of which would go into a single carpet-bag and excite no suspicion. i satisfied myself that my rope would be long enough, and that the wheel for the bucket was in good working order, and then we went home to dinner. ‘i had a little cautious conversation with the landlord, and made out that he would not be overmuch surprised if i went out for a stroll with my man about nine o'clock, to make (heaven forgive me !) a sketch of the abbey by moonlight. i asked no questions about the well, and am not likely to do so now. ifancy i know as much about it as anyone in steinfeld: at least'—with a strong shudder—‘i don't want to know any more. ‘now we come to the crisis, and, though i hate to think of it, i feel sure, gregory, that it will be better for me in all ways to recall it just as it happened. we started, brown and i, at about nine with our bag, and attracted no attention; for we managed to slip out at the hinder end of the inn-yard into an alley which brought us quite to the edge of the village. 17–2 260 ghost-stories of an antiquary in five minutes we were at the well, and for some little time we sat on the edge of the wellhead to make sure that no one was stirring or spying on us. all we heard was some horses cropping grass out of sight further down the eastern slope. we were perfectly unobserved, and had plenty of light from the gorgeous full moon to allow us to get the rope properly fitted over the wheel. then i secured the band round my body beneath the arms. we attached the end of the rope very securely to a ring in the stonework. brown took the lighted lantern and followed me ; i had a crowbar. and so we began to descend cautiously, feeling every step before we set foot on it, and scanning the walls in search of any marked stone. “half aloud i counted the steps as we went down, and we got as far as the thirty-eighth before i noted anything at all irregular in the surface of the masonry. even here there was no mark, and i began to feel very blank, and to wonder if the abbot's cryptogram could possibly be an elaborate hoax. at the fortythe treasure of abbot thomas 261 ninth step the staircase ceased. it was with a very sinking heart that i began retracing my steps, and when i was back on the thirtyeighth—brown, with the lantern, being a step or two above me—i scrutinized the little bit of irregularity in the stonework with all my might ; but there was no vestige of a mark. “then it struck me that the texture of the surface looked just a little smoother than the rest, or, at least, in some way different. it might possibly be cement and not stone. i gave it a good blow with my iron bar. there was a decidedly hollow sound, though that might be the result of our being in a well. but there was more. a great flake of cement dropped on to my feet, and i saw marks on the stone underneath. i had tracked the abbot down, my dear gregory; even now i think of it with a certain pride. it took but a very few more taps to clear the whole of the cement away, and i saw a slab of stone about two feet square, upon which was engraven a cross. disappointment again, but 262 ghost-stories of an antiquary only for a moment. it was you, brown, who reassured me by a casual remark. you said, if i remember right: ‘“it’s a funny cross; looks like a lot of eyes.” “i snatched the lantern out of your hand, and saw with inexpressible pleasure that the cross was composed of seven eyes, four in a vertical line, three horizontal. the last of the scrolls in the window was explained in the way i had anticipated. here was my “stone with the seven eyes.” so far the abbot's data had been exact, and, as i thought of this, the anxiety about the “guardian” returned upon me with increased force. still, i wasn't going to retreat now. “without giving myself time to think, i knocked away the cement all round the marked stone, and then gave it a prise on the right side with my crowbar. it moved at once, and i saw that it was but a thin light slab, such as i could easily lift out myself, and that it stopped the entrance to a cavity. i did lift it out unbroken, and set it the treasure of abbot thomas 263 on the step, for it might be very important to us to be able to replace it. then i waited for several minutes on the step just above. i don't know why, but i think to see if any dreadful thing would rush out. nothing happened. next i lit a candle, and very cautiously i placed it inside the cavity, with some idea of seeing whether there were foul air, and of getting a glimpse of what was inside. there was some foulness of air which nearly extinguished the flame, but in no long time it burned quite steadily. the hole went some little way back, and also on the right and left of the entrance, and i could see some rounded light-coloured objects within which might be bags. there was no use in waiting. i faced the cavity, and looked in. there was nothing immediately in the front of the hole. i put my arm in and felt to the right, very gingerly. . . . “just give me a glass of cognac, brown. i'll go on in a moment, gregory. . . . “well, i felt to the right, and my fingers touched something curved, that felt—yes— 264 ghost-stories of an antiquary more or less like leather; dampish it was, and evidently part of a heavy, full thing. there was nothing, i must say, to alarm one. i grew bolder, and putting both hands in as well as i could, i pulled it to me, and it came. it was heavy, but moved more easily than i had expected. as i pulled it towards the entrance, my left elbow knocked over and extinguished the candle. i got the thing fairly in front of the mouth and began drawing it out. just then brown gave a sharp ejaculation and ran quickly up the steps with the lantern. he will tell you why in a moment. startled as i was, i looked round after him, and saw him stand for a minute at the top and then walk away a few yards. then i heard him call softly, “all right, sir,” and went on pulling out the great bag, in complete darkness. it hung for an instant on the edge of the hole, then slipped forward on to my chest, and put its arms round my neck. ‘my dear gregory, i am telling you the exact truth. i believe i am now acquainted with the treasure of abbot thomas 265 the extremity of terror and repulsion which a man can endure without losing his mind. i can only just manage to tell you now the bare outline of the experience. i was conscious of a most horrible smell of mould, and of a cold kind of face pressed against my own, and moving slowly over it, and of several— i don't know how many—legs or arms or tentacles or something clinging to my body. i screamed out, brown says, like a beast, and fell away backward from the step on which i stood, and the creature slipped downwards, i suppose, on to that same step. providentially the band round me held firm. brown did not lose his head, and was strong enough to pull me up to the top and get me over the edge quite promptly. how he managed it exactly i don't know, and i think he would find it hard to tell you. i believe he contrived to hide our implements in the deserted building near by, and with very great difficulty he got me back to the inn. i was in no state to make explanations, and brown knows no german; but next morning i told 266 ghost-stories of an antiquary the people some tale of having had a bad fall in the abbey ruins, which, i suppose, they believed. and now, before i go further, i should just like you to hear what brown's experiences during those few minutes were. tell the rector, brown, what you told me.’ “well, sir,’ said brown, speaking low and nervously, “it was just this way. master was busy down in front of the 'ole, and i was 'olding the lantern and looking on, when i 'eard somethink drop in the water from the top, as i thought. so i looked up, and i see someone's 'ead lookin' over at us. i spose i must ha'said somethink, and i’eld the light up and run up the steps, and my light shone right on the face. that was a bad un, sir, if ever i see one ! a holdish man, and the face very much fell in, and larfin, as i thought. and i got up the steps as quick pretty nigh as i'm tellin' you, and when i was out on the ground there warn’t a sign of any person. there 'adn't been the time for anyone to get away, let alone a hold chap, and i made sure he the treasure of abbot thomas 267 warn’t crouching down by the well, nor nothink. next thing i hear master cry out somethink 'orrible, and hall i see was him hanging out by the rope, and, as master says, 'owever i got him up i couldn't tell you.’ ‘you hear that, gregory " said mr. somerton. “now, does any explanation of that incident strike you ? “the whole thing is so ghastly and abnormal that i must own it puts me quite off my balance; but the thought did occur to me that possibly the well, the person who set the trap might have come to see the success of his plan.’ “just so, gregory, just so. i can think of nothing else so—likely, i should say, if such a word had a place anywhere in my story. i think it must have been the abbot. . . . well, i haven't much more to tell you. i spent a miserable night, brown sitting up with me. next day i was no better; unable to get up; no doctor to be had ; and, if one had been available, i doubt if he could have done much for me. i made brown write off to you, and 268 ghost-stories of an antiquary spent a second terrible night. and, gregory, of this i am sure, and i think it affected me more than the first shock, for it lasted longer: there was someone or something on the watch outside my door the whole night. i almost fancy there were two. it wasn't only the faint noises i heard from time to time all through the dark hours, but there was the smell—the hideous smell of mould. every rag i had had on me on that first evening i had stripped off and made brown take it away. i believe he stuffed the things into the stove in his room; and yet the smell was there, as intense as it had been in the well; and, what is more, it came from outside the door. but with the first glimmer of dawn it faded out, and the sounds ceased, too; and that convinced me that the thing or things were creatures of darkness, and could not stand the daylight; and so i was sure that if anyone could put back the stone, it or they would be powerless until someone else took it away again. i had to wait until you came to get that done. of course, i couldn't send brown to do it by the treasure of abbot thomas 269 himself, and still less could i tell anyone who belonged to the place. “well, there is my story; and, if you don't believe it, i can't help it. but i think you do.” “indeed," said mr. gregory, ‘i can find no alternative. i must believe it ! i saw the well and the stone myself, and had a glimpse, i thought, of the bags or something else in the hole. and, to be plain with you, somerton, i believe my door was watched last night, too.” ‘i dare say it was, gregory; but, thank goodness, that is over. have you, by the way, anything to tell about your visit to that dreadful place º' “very little, was the answer. ‘brown and i managed easily enough to get the slab into its place, and he fixed it very firmly with the irons and wedges you had desired him to get, and we contrived to smear the surface with mud so that it looks just like the rest of the wall. one thing i did notice in the carving on the well-head, which i think must have escaped 270 ghost-stories of an antiquary you. it was a horrid, grotesque shape—perhaps more like a toad than anything else, and there was a label by it inscribed with the two words, “depositum custodi.”” * “keep that which is committed to thee." the end billing and sons, limited, printer8, guildford . iii. in the borrower must return this item on or before the last date stamped below. if another user places a recall for this item, the borrower will be notified of the need for an earlier return. non-receipt of overdue notices does not exempt the borrower from overdue fines. harvard college widener library cambridge, ma 02138 617-495-2413 wid en thank you for helping to preserve library collections at harvard. --------277 3 3433 04300 9319 fc 75-2626 'apery, ellen ociable ghost. being the adventures of the sociable ghost i i sholato; 430111 * 2082 astor 1,18aart the 1 139 y crn fublic jfc 75-26 26 1 , 1 ! ! 1 north porch of trinity church, and the first meeting of the sociable ghost and the newspaper man. the sociable ghost. being the adventures of a reporter who was invited by the sociable ghost to a grand banquet, ball, and convention under the ground of old trinity churchyard. a true tale of the things he saw and did not see while he was not there. written down by olive harper and another. illustrated by thomas mcilvaine and a. w. schwartz. “ the breezy call of incense breathing morn, the swallow twittering from the straw-built shed; the cock's shrill clarion or the echoing horn no more shall rouse them from their lowly bed." (copyright 1903, by j. s. ogilvie publishing company.) new york: j. s. ogilvie publishing company, 57 rose street. : table of contents, page chapter i. the beginning of the acquaintance. 9 chapter ii. the reporter meets the leader of the four hundred . 36 chapter iii. the gambler's penance . 59 chapter iv. the mended ghost • 78 chapter v. the princess from egypt ioi chapter vi. the ghosts tell stories, and compare notes 141 chapter viii. the grand ball, convention and end of it all 203 list of illustrations. page north porch of trinity church, and the first meeting of the sociable ghost and the newspaper man frontispiece “drat that toe! i'm sure i broke it off” . . 33 . 54 “i flatter myself that the decorations are fine” • did you say that to me?” 66 62 . 16 'i won't play if such favoritism is shown" . 76 the mended ghost . 79 “but you must join us 87 “forget it, forget it!” 95 the princess shep . 109 with a smile of ineffable sweetness she vanished . i 20 122 “don't rouse the sleeping lion' “i found her sitting at the piano” 153 they had evidently found the buffet 166 . the dance and cake walk 178 n. b.-while other books have pictures “taken from life," it should be noticed that those in this book are taken from death, ܀ dedication. to all who are able to read between the lines, and understand the real purpose and meaning of this book, it is dedicated with the sincere friendship of the authors. chapter i. the beginning of the acquaintance. at the northwestern end of trinity church stands a clump of bushes under a tree, and lying under both bushes and tree is a large, flat stone with the inscription quite effaced. it is the entrance to one of the old family vaults. beneath this dense shrubbery in the darkness at night sat a young man. the hour was so late that even in that busy neighborhood the lights were few and far between, except in the tall newspaper offices up the street. few people could be seen on the great thoroughfare which but a few hours before had been so animated. stillness reigned save for the occasional train of cars now and then whizzing by at the back, and the broadway cars shooting along at great and uninterrupted speed in front. the young man was not ilļ por out of employ, as the notę book and pencils in his pocket would 9 10 the sociable ghost. show. yet he was plainly out of sorts with everything. a little dog came sniffing around him and he kicked it viciously, and a starved kitten crept timidly up to him, whereat he picked a piece of stone from the slab and threw it at the little creature which, frightened, scampered away in the darkness. aroused thus from his reverie, the young man looked and felt more miserable than ever. he was surprised at himself, for this was the first time in his life that he had ever made a movement to harm an animal. his conscience pricked him and he did not like the sensation. from all this it may be inferred that the young man was in love, and that was the truth; and worse than all, the girl of his choice was now as unattainable as one of the stars in the milky way. first of all, she was the only daughter of a millionaire, and secondly, she was to be married the next day to an impecunious nobleman from sunny france. thirdly, she had eyes only for the grand title. and that was why this young man sat alone in the darkest corner of trinity churchyard, kicking dogs and stoning cats. that very day his chief had given him an assignment to go and write a description of the wedding presents. he had turned in his copy, the sociable ghost. ii and not waiting to find out if there was anything else to do, went out, and with the instinct of a hurt dog, had chosen the darkest spot he knew of, and had crept down to this place, which even in daylight is gloomy, prepared to suffer as much as he wished to, unknown to anyone. if he went home he must see his adoring mother. he was not prepared for that. he felt that he could not bear the scrutiny of her soft but penetrating glance until he had gotten over the worst. he knew well that she would see his trouble, even though he said no word, and that she would wait for him to speak. but, even this unspoken sympathy was more than he could endure. he intended to fight it out alone, now and in the darkness, shut out from human kind and curious scrutiny. a fine old pipe and a paper of tobacco, not yet opened, and a box of matches were in his pocket, but he was in no mood for the soothing influence of the weed. in another pocket was a flask of good whiskey which he always carried for such emergencies as might arise in his profession as reporter, but it was full and untouched. he had forgotten that he had it. the noises of the great city were settling down to a soft hum as it approached midnight. the trains and electric cars were fewer now, while the 12 the sociable ghost. throbbing of the newspaper presses away up on park row sounded clear and distinct in his ears as the other noises ceased. the sweet calm of a mild may night fell unconsciously upon him and brought with it a feeling almost of resignation. suddenly he became aware that he was not alone. amazed and bewildered, he saw that the old graveyard was waking up, and that from every grave issued a shade which took form as it rose fully free from the earth. a shadowy figure quite near him appeared entirely ignorant of his presence, and as soon as his cerements were free from the mould of the grave from which he had come, gave an audible sniff, shook himself so that his bones rattled like a bag of dry oyster shells, and as he did so said: “zounds and pea blossoms! what wouldn't i give for a good pipe full of tobaccy! i've a notion to stay dead." saying this the loose jointed ghost threw one leg over his tomb stone and began to drum on it with his heels, while he folded his bony arms with supreme disgust. the newspaper man, now all alert to the situation, hurriedly opened the paper of tobacco and filling his pipe, which was of that warm, rich hue of brown so dear to the heart of the the sociable ghost. 13. smoker as the result of many hours of solitude, and much copy, he lighted it and sent out a couple of whiffs to pave the way for his voice which followed the puffs of smoke. the ghost still sat drumming with his heels on the stone and watched the operation. "if i-may i-offer you my pipe?" stammered the young man. "you may, indeed, and be sure of the thanks of a man who has not smoked for so long that he has almost forgotten how it tastes.” the ghost sighed so heavily that the rags fluttered around as he drew himself up with dignity, at the same time covering his breast bone with the morsels of his shroud. he received the pipe most graciously and enjoyed it with infinite gusto, though, to be sure, the smoke seemed to ooze out afterwards from all over his angular anatomy. the little heart of fire glowed brightly in the bowl of the pipe, and as the rich cloud of smoke gradually enveloped the ghost, it told more eloquently than words could have done of his enjoyment. the newspaper man stood ready to fill it up again, and it suddenly occurred to him that possibly the contents of the small flask in his pocket might prove acceptable, so he made bold to offer it, saying: 14 the sociable ghost. "i have a little old whiskey, if you ever indulge "indulge! dear sir, you are a christian! i have not had a snifter for-as many years as i have been dead. tears enough to float a seva enty-four gun ship have bedewed my grave, but nobody has ever thought of pouring out a little good rum. ah, there is a flavor about rum so rich and fine that it makes one think of all the molasses in the world boiled down into one bottle. here's to your health; your very good health, the health of your wife, your children, your mother, and hoping that your bottle may never be empty!" with every fresh sentiment the ghost lifted the bottle to his mouth, and at last handed that and the pipe back with evident reluctance. the pipe was now cold. “would you care to smoke again?" asked the young man. "i would indeed, my good sir. i cannot tell you the comfort you have given me on this occasion, an occasion only too trying to the most hardened ghost.” "may i ask the nature of it?" "you may; you may. i owe you that much. but, before i do, let me move around so that i cannot see that fellow's head stone. it makes me sick. just see that epitaph. i knew the the sociable ghost. 15 chap, and all about him. the epitaph tells how brave he was in the mexican war where he fell a hero. instead of dying like a hero, he ran like a whitehead-he did--and caught his foot in a vine and fell into a cactus bush and was kicked to death by a roman nosed mule with one loose shoe. it was that loose shoe that did the business. here the ghost fell to puffing again with a vigor born of vexation and disgust. the newspaper man now saw that there were many other forms quite as unsubstantial as this one walking around slowly. he noticed also that they kicked vigorously at some of the head stones as they passed, and that they all appeared to have and show a special hatred for some dark objects scattered among the graves. the young man could not resist the desire to know why the other ghosts seemed to be so angry. the ghost who was still smoking with evident pleasure, said: "oh, the usual thing." "and what is that, if i may ask?" "oh, just as if it is not enough to be dead and not have your passport yet! here come a lot of fools and stick flowers over your grave. it is true that we do not have so much to complain of in this respect as some of the newer cemeteries do. the most of us have been here for 16 the sociable ghost. so long that we have no relatives to come here and leave them, and the public thinks it is quite honor enough to be buried here. other cemeteries may be forgotten or removed, but this one is as solid as the rock of gibraltar. it is honeycombed about as much too. and there are flowers enough growing in their proper places without sticking more around. there are more useful things to do than that. we don't care so much for sentiment as people seem to think we do. we have learned the value of it. we have grown practical." the newspaper man held out his hand for the pipe to fill it again, gently asking the ghost to tell him what this special occasion might be, adding that he would be very grateful for anything that the ghost might be willing to impart, as probably he would never have a better chance to learn. the other ghosts sauntered along, looking enviously at this one as he sat there smoking vehemently and reflecting. it actually appeared that the ghosts could see and that they looked at him, though in the very nature of things they ought not to be able to see without eyes. their efforts to appear entirely unconcerned while the favored one sat smoking were funny, or would have been so under any other circumstances. the sociable ghost. 17 the young journalist had mentally christened this as the sociable ghost, and he waited silently, observing him while he did so, and pondered on the delight of the smoker as he in time became conscious of the glances of envy and overwhelming smoke-hunger of the other ghosts. they evidently would have done anything for just one whiff at that pipe, but they saw that there was nothing to hope for, and that they were confronting another bloated monopoly. but they all ranged themselves in line with apparent carelessness, so that the night wind should waft the smoke toward them. they sniffed the smoke eagerly and looked as though they would like to annihilate the smoker. apparently unnoticing and unconcerned, the sociable ghost continued to smoke as though reflecting on what he should say to this young man, and possibly it occurred to him that if he told all there was to say too soon, the young man might go away, and there was still quite a lot of tobacco in the paper, and some more of the whiskey which he had left in the flask for good manners. he could not jeopardize what might be his last chance. “there is a sort of sameness here," said the ghost irrelevantly, with a comprehensive wave of the hand, “particularly in the architecture.” and 18 the sociable ghost. then he suddenly kicked at a bone which had attracted his attention, though how it had escaped the attention of floyd, whose whole life is spent in trying to keep the place immaculately clean is a mystery. the young man thought perhaps the little dog had brought it in. but, however it had come there, it seemed to annoy the ghost greatly. he said angrily: “there's reverence for you! there's respect and sentiment. when i was a small shaver i regarded a graveyard as a sacred place, and a scarcely dared to let my little feet fall for fear they might weigh too heavily on the sainted dead below. sainted dead! now that is a good one, too! well, perhaps familiarity does breed contempt. if you will excuse me for mentioning it, my pipe is out,” remarked the ghost rather abruptly. the young man filled it, and at the same time the thought intruded itself into his mind that the ghost had said “my pipe.” the ghost took it gracefully and after a couple of puffs said: "if you like, we will walk around a little while i smoke this last pipe, for i shall soon have sights to show you, as well as things to tell, and must hurry before we begin the carnival." "begin what?” asked the young man a little nervously. the sociable ghost. 19 "well, we have a sort of convention of all the ghosts of this city and some delegations from other places, some from quite a distance, i believe. we are to have a dance after some speech making and a banquet. there will also be some general amusements such as are permitted in good society. after that we do our penance that is some regard it in that light, but i do not for it makes the stone lie heavy over my head.” as the sociable ghost said that he waved his hand indefinitely and stood up on his skeleton feet and prepared to walk. "as we go along i will tell you many things that never came to your knowledge, and they may be of service to you in after life. if i had known all that i am going to show you and tell you to-night before i died, i might have done some things and not done others, and so shortened my probation a good while. i then would never have been stuck under this lying stone." in the meantime the number of ghosts grew larger so rapidly that it seemed there would soon be room for no more. the ghost said: "the most of the ghosts that you see here tonight above ground are invited guests, and they come because the march of civilization as you call it, has left them no place where they might hold a reunion of their own, for it is only in 20 the sociable ghost. 1 settled cemeteries that there can be such a function as you shall see here to-night—that is if you wish to remain.” the newspaper man hastily signified that he would indeed like to be present at such a function. up to the present time in his career as a reporter he had never finched from anything in the way of sight seeing, and after having witnessed so much that was strange and hazardous he was not going to flinch now. the ghost continued: "the whole place is honeycombed with vaults which we can at will transform into a place befitting the occasion. this is done by means of certain powers given us, but before i go on i wish you to take particular notice of my head stone. why, i will tell you later. i know all the ghosts belonging to this place and many more, and whatever i may say about them will be truthful history and no one will say that i have ever belied him.” the young man hastened to remark that he was sure of that, adding that he had always heard of the chivalric manner in which the men of the past generations spoke of others, and especially he adi red the reverence which they showed towards all women, which was very beautiful. a strange, crackling laugh was the answer to the sociable ghost. 21 this. it sent the cold chills galloping up and down the reporter's spine. it also checked any further expression of his admiration of by gone manners. "young man, you are positively refreshing ! we did regard all women except our own and the ugly ones with the greatest consideration. that has been the rule since the world began, and will be unto the end. but to resume. look now at my head stone. i was a rich man in my day and time and had every reason to expect a fine monument with a weeping willow on it or at least a cherub, and a nice big slab. just see what i got! it reminds me of one christmas morning when after i had been extra good for three months hoping to get a bright red sled, i found a copy of sanford and merton in my stocking. i wonder i didn't turn out to be a pirate! maybe i didn't go out behind the barn and tear the thing up, and lie like a little imp when they found out the book was gone. since then i made it a point to lick every man by the name of sanford or merton that i ever met. fool names, both of them.” “i don't blame you a bit,” said the young man with spirit, as the remembrance of much the same experience flitted across his mind. the sociable ghost continued: a " 22 the sociable ghost. "pardon me for interrupting-i am a little out of practise in telling a story. to take up the thread of my narrative. here you see a measly little slab of red sandstone, and no sign of the little cherub that sits up aloft watching out for the safety of poor jack. i was a captain and commanded my own ship. she was as fine a vessel as ever rode out a gale. i loved every timber in her hull and every rope on the rigging and every spar and mast and sail as women love their young ones.” "i can quite understand that," assented the young man. "well, my ship made me a rich man. my relict, to offset the strict economy that she showed in the matter of stone, had a lot of stuff about my noble qualities and my pious—and all that. so much indeed, that not half shows above ground. all of this makes me just so much work and dirty work. digging down in it without implements! you may see where it says that i sailed to liverpool, and so i did, once or twice, but the most of my voyages were to the west indies and to africa. i brought cargoes of rum and molasses for the merchants who were in the business here then, and who were not ashamed of working in their own warehouses, and whose descendants to-day put on many grand airs. they 1 the sociable ghost. 23 talk about their ancestors, as though they had been of some superior clay. i hate airs, and always did. nine out of ten of these old merchants dealt in either slaves or rum. the slaves came from the coast of africa. i brought them for the account of these people whose descendants put on the airs. i suppose from the legend on my head stone if i had left any descendants they would have put on quite as many airs. i am glad i did not. as i said, i hate airs." “i think any right feeling person does,” hazarded the reporter, who was a little in doubt as to the outcome of this conversation. "i held my wife so close in money matters," continued the ghost reminiscently, "being thrifty, and looking forward to the time when i should be able to stay on shore, that i never let her know how much i had. later, when she got control of all my earnings she had so profited by my example and teachings that-well, you see what a head stone she gave me. i had done many things for that money—things that i now wish that i had not done. i taught her economy and by george! when she had a chance to pay me in my own coin, she did it and she did it well. just look at that miserable chunk of old sandstone all covered with a lot of da-i mean a lot of untruthful stuff that will keep me at it i don't 1 24 the sociable ghost. know how many years yet. if she had known she could not have revenged herself on me worse. she gave all my clothes and a puncheon of good rum to the fool sculptor, and i am just waiting for him to come down here. if he ever does, i won't do a thing to him but make him think he mistook his vocation and ought to have been a boiler maker and stayed safely in one of his iron clad boilers." as the angry ghost delivered himself of this speech, he somehow took on such a fierce expression, shown more in attitude than feature-since he had no features—that the young man was sincerely glad that he had not been guilty of carving the objectionable stuff on the fast crumbling stone. as they walked along the ghost continued : “now, take notice that this stone has all the epitaph rubbed out. the name only remains, and that proves that he was a pretty good sort. here is another where the epitaph is all gone except the date. now that is a good start, isn't it?" the young man murmured something about it seeming so, though he was entirely in the dark about it. still he knew enough to keep still and let the ghost tell his story in his own way and in his own time. many a time he had managed to secure a fine story for his paper from the sociable ghost. 25 some one who had declared that he had nothing to say by judiciously keeping silence, curbing his curiosity and inquisitiveness, and speaking only when absolutely necessary. he began to feel that he was going to get something to-night not often given to mortals, and he mentally arranged the headlines of the story, for of course he would sell it. every other experience save one had been made to yield him so many dollars, and it was natural that this strange meeting should appeal to him only as a scoop beyond the power of any mortal to equal. so he discreetly awaited the pleasure of his ghostly companion. he wondered if the pebbles hurt the ghost's feet. he felt a little delicate about mentioning it, particularly as he could have proposed no remedy even if the pebbles did hurt. soon the ghost stopped by a rather small head stone, and in a reminiscent manner said, between the delicious whiffs of smoke: "i well remember when the fashion for these cherubs went out and fancy monuments with weeping willows on them came in. i had not been dead then very long, and i was wondering which i would get and thinking what a luminous old gump i was not to have made some provision for just such a contingency. by dying suddenly my widow had things her own way, 26 the sociable ghost. and a pretty mess she has made of it as you see. well; cherubs went out and weeping women in weeds standing over funeral urns took their places. i had thought that the new ones looked more dignified and were superior, but since then i have come to see these cherubs as they are. where there are cherubs there is not much epitaph. have you ever seen these cherubs ? no? well come then, and take a good look at them for they are worth the trouble. some of them will fill you with envy to think you cannot have one right away to watch over your slumber—i don't think.” this last was said with an indescribably waggish leer, and the reporter began to think he was on the right road to a new experience and that this man who had been so long dead still could see the humorous side of it all, and that would certainly be from a new view point. they walked along until they came to one part of the cemetery where there seemed to have been an epidemic of head stones with cherubs on them. the ghost stopped before one of them and said: "just take a look at this cherub and see the mouth-or rather where the mouth once was and notice how it is all worn away, that is if the sculptor did not die before he had finished his work. here is another where the mouth is half gone, and the 'expression is half a mocking smile the sociable ghost. 27 on one side and nothing at all on the other. some have faces round and others have long ones; some smile and others have the lips drawn down almost to the chin in a lugubrious line each side of the face. just notice this one! the shape of the face is like that of a bartlett pear with the big end down, and around the head is what the artist fondly believed to be a halo of glory; but it looks more like a bunch of oakum tied to a ruffled nightcap. the oakum is supposed to represent the living flame of sacred fire. and just catch onto the wings! and note the general expression! these things were much admired in those days, and were considered the highest form of expression of poetic thought. i think i even complained just now that none had been put on my head stone, but after all i'm blamed-no blessed glad of it for they are silly and they do grate on my sense of the fitness of things, and they might after all interfere with my passport. oh, yes; i will tell you about that later. just now i want to show you around a little, for probably you will never again have an opportunity like this." here the reporter caused a slight interruption in the conversation by handing the ghost the flask with a quiet grace which completely captivated his heart, that is, the ghost of a heart. 28 the sociable ghost. the ghost took a few swallows and with a chesterfieldian bow returned it to the young man and then continued his running commentaries on the head stones. “now we come to a new departure in cherubs. you see this one is not very well supplied with flesh, and is cut to represent a skeleton's head. i have noticed in many churchyards that it is considered quite the thing to preach sermons to the living on the mutability of human affairs, and therefore these things are put on the stones. i think the most of them are put there out of spite because the person down below had to die. i know quite a number of ghosts who have told me that they left instructions for their own epitaphs. so you see the ghosts get some comfort out of the gruesome warnings, but i doubt that any one living was ever scared into repentance by them. i know one old fellow who gets so mad every time he hears people up above read his epitaph and laugh at the time honored words of 'as i am now, so you must be; prepare for death and follow mehere the reporter could not restrain his tongue and he asked if it were possible for the dead lying in their graves to really hear, and know what was passing. the ghost replied: "oh, yes; we know all that goes on above the sociable ghost. 29 ground, that is if it interests us enough to make us care to take the trouble to learn. we each find out what we most care about, much as you who are not dead do, and we talk it over at our hour of release.” "and that i suppose is between the hours of twelve and one?” “my young friend, you are behir.d the age. there was a time when people believed that ghosts could walk only at the hour you mention, but there is one night when we can walk from sunset to one o'clock, which you see brings us into another day. we can walk, run, dance or do anything we like, within certain limitations. you have happened here on the only night in the year when we can do this. we have been going the rounds below ever since the sun went down and now we are coming up as you see. we leave our coffins and go about—and in short-you shall see it all to-night.” here the ghost gave a sniff of disgust and anger, and pointing at a head stone, said: “now, just look at that! they have gone and ‘restored that head stone and had all that fulsome epitaph recut in it. and, they thought they were doing a meritorious action, and that will give that poor fellow no end of trouble to get it out again. and, he cannot get his passport until he does. and 30 the sociable ghost. here is another similar case. see this stone? well, only to-day the descendants of this mantake notice that i say who has slept, for he is wide awake enough now and hopping madcame and gave orders that the inscription be restored. poor fellow! he has been at that trying to scrub it out ever since 1796. it seems that some of the families who have so little to be proud of in this generation try to make it up by piling more misery on their dead ancestors, just to show that they had ancestors with such very flattering records. bah!” "he must be rather old ?" hazarded the reporter with a desire to learn something besides the opinion of the ghost regarding the inscriptions, whereupon the ghost turned sharply around and said with some little show of asperity: "he was only about forty and he is the same ghosts cannot grow older, for there is nothing for them to grow with. here is the grave of alexander hamilton. later i shall show you what he looks like now." saying this the ghost seemed to be absorbed in reflection for a few moments. suddenly he spoke: "what a pity that you have no more whiskey. there are several persons here to-night who would so enjoy a good snifter. the worst feanow. the sociable ghost. 31 ture about our banquets is that all our food and drink are as unsubstantial as we are.” “i could go across the way and get some, if you will wait for me,” said the young man eagerly, for it occurred to him that he would like to see the effect of a generous allowance of real whiskey on the ghosts, and there were apparently legions of them now strolling around among the graves and through the church. “never mind for this time,” said the ghost. "i have had all that is good for me, and i always knew when i had enough. besides, i would like to take a rise out of some of these fellows tonight. you see, it is a great thing for one so long dead to have any friends left alive anyhow and above all one who knows enough to bring any creature comforts like the pipe and whiskey." the young man bowed, and said no more on that subject, but he began to think that this ghost was entirely too prolix. “notice, my young friend,” said the ghost, confidentially, "as they strolled along toward the south side of the churchyard; "all these stones are set facing the sunrising. now, some might think this was done on account of the formation of the ground, but it is not so, for it would have been just as easy to have faced them all south, north, east or west. this is simply the last linger32 the sociable ghost. ing remains of the old heathen custom and belief that the rising sun represents the resurrection of the dead. the ancients also believed in pouring out drink offerings and libations, and, my friend, they were nearer right than we are with all our boasted civilization. nothing can be of benefit to the dead, unless it is spirits which are ethereal in themselves, and smoke which is evanescent, and almost intangible. i assure you there are times when we could appreciate a glass of good rum. that being a spirit in itself, we assimilate it easily and enjoy it thoroughly. but our civilization does not believe in offering libations to the dead, more's the pity. i knew an old heathen once who had been buried hundreds of years, and he used to make us all as mad as hops when he told us how his descendants, as is the custom there, came regularly to his grave and poured out good spirits. by george! it almost made me wish that i had been one myself.” after that sentiment forcibly expressed, the couple walked along in silence for a short distance, and the ghost stubbed his toe against the slab covering the barclay vault. this bore the date of 1762 in measurably clear letters. the good-natured ghost seemed suddenly changed in regard to the mildness of his disposition, as he hopped around on one bony foot and said things, “drat that toe! i'm sure i broke it off.”—page 33. 3 the sociable ghost. 33 > some of them sounding like a word beginning with a big d and ending with a little n. the newspaper man bowed his head over the tomb of brave lawrence, and had a severe coughing fit to cover up his unholy amusement, and whether it was that the ghost was too much occupied in rubbing his toe, or whether he really did not see it, this danger passed, and the ghost turned and limped toward the front of the church and across the porch. as he did so, he said: "drat that toe! i nearly put it out of joint ! i despise airs anyhow, and folks that think themselves too good to have just plain graves, and go and dig vaults and leave the slabs lying right in one's path. if i had them aboard my ship i'd fix them. i'd stow them so close that when they got out they would think that a six foot grave was an extended plain or a rolling prairie. i am afraid i shall have to tie that toe on, for i am sure it must be loose.” “can i be of any assistance?" asked the reporter. "no, you can't. excuse me if i am short, but the damn thing hurts.” “i had an impression that after one is dead there could be no more bodily pain-that all suffering of the body is over," hazarded the newspaper man. 9 34 the sociable ghost. "well, get rid of that impression in short order,” said the ghost as he sat down on the edge of the porch and struggled to tear off a piece of his shroud to tie up his toe. "we can suffer as long as there is anything material of us left to suffer, and also mentally as long as things go wrong that we left behind us when we died. zounds! how that toe hurts !”. the young man expressed his sympathy so warmly that that and perhaps somewhat less of pain calmed the ghost so that he took up his interrupted conversation. “if you use your eyes, young man, you may see here the present homes of many persons who have made the history of new york; yes, even of america. many of the names are known in every household in the land, and streets have been named for most of them. among them you will find the names of the founders of the old families, though to be sure, when i come to think of it, many of them have long since received their passports. you therefore will not see them tonight. but you may see some of the van dams, kissams, ludlows, moores, vestrys, goelets, desbrosses, duanes, worths, lispenards, jays, hulls, jones, dominicks, bleeckers, de peysters, murrays, chambers, watts, kings, munroes, leroys and a whole lot more. i can't remember the sociable ghost. 35 them all just now. but, a man has got to be something before he gets a street named after him. some of the old members of these families were not so rich as their descendants are today. there were no millionaires in my time in new york." chapter ii. the reporter meets the leader of the ghostly four hundred. the sociable ghost and the newspaper man continued their walk though the ghost still limped painfully. the reporter tried to bring himself to offer his arm for the ghost to lean upon, but somehow he could not seem to care to get too close to the living skeleton as he mentally considered him. still he would not willingly have dispensed with his company. finally the ghost took up the conversation where he had left it off. "i was not born then, let alone being dead, but i have often conversed with the founders of this mother of churches in this country, and also the founders of those first families at our reunions. you just ought to hear them go on about the extravagance of their descendants. they say that when they were taking up subscriptions for building the new steeple, joseph aspinwall gave one 36 the sociable ghost. 37 pound six, and oliver schuyler put down one pound; mrs. coddington gave two pounds, while gilbert livingstone gave five shillings and six pence. philip schuyler donated six shillings, mrs. hamilton gave two pounds fifteen shillings, and rip van dam, one pound six shillings, and so on no one giving much, if any more than two pounds. this was while john cruger was vestryman with isaac decker and josephus bayard as co-laborers. i notice that the women were more generous then as now to church matters and needs, and it has always been a question with me why this is so. now, is it because as a general rule the women did not have to work for the money as the husbands did, and so they did not appreciate its value, or is it because the women are by nature more generous and more religious than men? i heard somewhere once that it was said that it is the women who sustain the churches. well, i don't care. wow! that toe twinges!" all this did not interest the young reporter as much as the ghost seemed to think it should, but politeness forbade him to make any sign. his appetite was whetted for what was to come and he did not wish to destroy his chances. he had a vague idea that he had read something like this in the archives of this old and honored church, 38 the sociable ghost. while preparing a description of the third hundredth anniversary, but as he saw that the ghost liked to enlighten his ignorance he wisely kept silence. at this moment the ghost said: “come on, it will soon be time now. but before we go take one look at the head stone erected to the memory of william bradford. he was the first government printer and spent fifty years in the service, and left this world worn out with old age and labor. he printed the first bible in this country, and his old press is kept as a memorial. "he was a decent, simple, hardworking chap, and used all his strength in his work. and, he didn't get rich either. well; maybe you have seen instances of the truly good getting the fool good to sign away their lives for the benefit of the truly good. i put this matter in a mild form, for i am apt to get hot under the collar when i think of how many of the fool good fellows are bound down to a life of underpaid toil to give others the benefit of it all." here the ghost paused impressively, and the reporter bowed seriously as though fully agreeing with him. in fact he did fully agree with the ghost completely, for he knew something of the matter himself in a small way. the ghost resumed: a > the sociable ghost. 39 "when i say the truly good, i mean those who are so very good that the fool good are blinded by their reputation and so toil for them for next to nothing. i tell you, publishers have no pudding down here, and the religious ones seemgto be singled out for special punishment. one man is here to-night who used to run a religious paper, all he paid his writers was one dollar a column, and however hard they tried they couldn't earn over six or seven dollars a week. he made contracts with the poor fellows write for him alone, so they could not help themselves when he cut down the number of columns. one of these unfortunate men wrote a book while this contract was in force and it made quite a success and blow me! if the religious chap did not go and claim the book, too. how it would have turned out i do not know for the publisher died. i'll show him to you when we go down, that is if you would care to see him." "you bet i would !" said the reporter with sudden warmth. whereupon the ghost said in a manner to calm his just anger : "i don't think they are all so bad. but one thing i have noticed and that is that all the publishers have money, and all the things that money brings, while the great majority of the writers are poor, some of them miserably so. all the 40 the sociable ghost. religious publishers and editors are down here and rather flock together. they seem to enjoy talking over the tricks of trade. i used to think that i was something of a pirate, too, in my way, and therefore their conversations interested me more probably, than they might otherwise have done. if you were to hear them talk together you would think much less of them than you do now." “i couldn't!" answered the young man, with emphasis and conviction. "i will show you another thing to-night that ought to please you if you take any special interest in publishers, and that is what is done with those publishers who make the writers wait for their money until their stories are published. it would be a balm for the hearts of the authors, and i wish you would let the writers know about it. it may be poor satisfaction for those who die before their stories are published. it has always been a satisfaction to me to whale the fellow that tries to cheat me out of my own, and if i can't whale him to see some one else do it and do it up brown." "they tell us that we must speak no evil of the dead," said the young man tritely. "these dead don't wait for any one to tell what they have done, they think it is all right. what the sociable ghost. 41 they have to suffer in seeing the papers, or the books they used to work on and about done so much better than they could do while alive! the policies of the whole thing are changed in many cases and that is very bitter. well, with one last word on this subject i will let them alone. it seems to me that when a man writes a book or a story and offers it for sale, he has the same right to offer it as an artist his picture, or a cabinetmaker to offer his wares, and i can't see why the author should have to wait for his pay any more than the others. if it suits the publisher enough to cause him to buy it the buyer should pay for it. i have heard men tell here how they had had stories accepted for publication and kept there year after year, and then they died before they were published. and, as soon as they did die the publishers used them at once and paid nothing even to the widows. now, of course, i have no means of knowing much about these matters, but it seems to me to be an outrage if it is true. i used to write poetry on ship board, at night, and i am sure that i should not have liked this sort of treatment, if it is true.” “some of them are several times meaner than any you have mentioned. but, show them to me if you please,” said the reporter, who had a bone to pick with two or three dead publishers. 42 the sociable ghost. “i will. i am sorry for poor bradford, for they have gone and restored his whole epitaph. he was good to me when i first came down and kindly taught me the rules. it is a bit rough until you have learned the ropes after you are dead." “will you excuse me if i ask you a question? i have always been led to think that those who are dead dislike to hear the word dead. they are supposed to prefer to hear, 'passed into spirit life' and 'gone to summer land' instead. all the mediums use that word, in palliation and instead of the harsher one. dead, gives one a shock to hear," asked the young man in a laudable desire to learn all he could. "poppycock and moonshine!" was the unexpected response. "there is no such thing as a medium. no, sir; they get your money and—do you suppose that one of them could get you the invitation to come down here to-night? you are soon to enter the very doors of ghostdom, but not through the efforts of any medium. no, sir; they trade upon your sense of loss and sorrow when any one of yours dies, and they foster and encourage your desire to penetrate the mystery of the future life. they get your money by fraud, working upon your best sentiments. they ought to be keelhauled, and should be if i had my way. the sociable ghost. 43 i'd string them to the yard arm and whack them with a rope's end. if the tie that bound you to any one you loved is broken by death there is no third party that can come and for a certain sum in cash become the medium of communication between you, and i say, lick the man that tells you different. you are getting this straight from a real ghost. in my warmth i had almost forgotten that you asked if we who are dead dislike to hear any one say the word dead. quite the contrary, for we are dead and it would be very silly to try to disguise the fact, and we do not try to down here. fact is truth and truth governs down here. dead we are and dead we stay, and after all i am not sure that we are not quite as well, and sometimes better off, than when alive. if we miss some things we escape others. well, come on; but before we go let me say that the trinity ghosts are the hosts to-night and they feel themselves the most aristocratic ghosts in the land, so i wished to caution you so that you would avoid hurting any one's feelings by seeming to doubt it.” "i shall be very careful, sir, and hope you will be near enough to forewarn me of any possible mistake. i assure you that i appreciate this distinguished honor more than i can say. but, i 44 the sociable ghost. should like to ask if any of the vanderbilts will be here to-night?" “no, young man; there will be no vanderbilts here to-night. but i can tell you something else that may interest you, and that is where old john jacob astor is to-night. you have doubtless heard that the old man was a worker from head to foot. work was ingrained in his thrifty nature. he wandered all over america to buy up . fur skins. for a long time he carried them on his back, so we are told, until his business had grown so that he required help, and could afford to pay for it. even then he would gladly have carried them all, so great was his instinct of thrift. then, when he found he could not tie them up alone he bought a baling press. this baling press he came to love. it marked for him the very spirit of progress, though it is a clumsy old thing made of beams and iron levers and screws. to this he confided his ambitions and joys and sorrows. so when his year of dormant waiting is over, like ours, and he is at liberty to amuse himself as he wishes for the few hours before the penance begins, the master lets him choose between this evening of festivity and his own desire. his ghost is now down in the sub-cellar of the great john ruszits fur company, where the women of four generations have brought their furs. this the sociable ghost. 45 company was formed in 1851, and astor died a few years before. the new ruszits company must have felt a certain friendship for the old man, though there is no record of their ever dining together, for when the old baling press was about to be sold for junk, at auction, with the rest of the effects of the old fur house, they purchased it and had it set up in the sub-cellar and have carefully preserved it ever since. it is about thirty feet below the surface of the street. it is pretty sure that the present members of the family have no desire to keep it as an heir-loom. “that is about all of the old man's effects left intact, and he is naturally drawn toward it, and now he is standing there in the pungent odor of raw pelts, and turning that baling press for all he is worth and if ghosts can sweat he is sweating now and enjoying himself in the keenest delight." "i should think he would prefer to spend the evening at the magnificent library which his money gave to the world. that is a noble sight, and i should think he would be glad to get out of the ground for a while." "my young friend, john jacob astor, the founder of that family, loved his business better than money. he could not be hired to leave re-cast. 46 the sociable ghost. the old press for all the books there is in it. when he is debarred from his present occupation he puts in his time turning over the raw furs in this place and inhaling their pungent odor, familiar and redolent of the old days. the rest of his time he sleeps and takes the repose which his active spirit would not allow him on earth." the young newspaper man thought a little about these things and remembered that only a few days ago he had been in this very warehouse where he had seen so much of beauty and value and yet missed seeing this old baling press, and he rather wondered, too, how any one could prefer the penetrating odor of raw skins to the fresh air of night under the stars. he could understand how the sight and feel of the soft finished garments might appeal to one, but he only said: “i don't see why the family should care for a better name and fame than that the old man leftthat of an industrious, frugal and honest man—' before the young man could finish his sentence he became aware of a perfect cloud of shadowy forms, and all seemed to be gathering around him. he began to wish that he had gone for the whiskey and failed to return. his companion sat on the edge of a tomb stone from which he had seemed to exude when he first made his appearance. the sociable ghost. 47 they had returned to that place while talking and as he did so he rubbed his stubbed toe, and for a few minutes no one said or did anything. at last the ghost said in a sibilant whisper : "i think there would be time for one more smoke if you would be so good. the guests are gathering fast and i will smoke fast, too." the young man hastily filled the pipe with the last of the tobacco and the ghost smoked it and handed it back, saying: "the tobacco is nearly all powder and does not smoke so well as the rest. no, no, i am not blaming you, but only saying that one of my experiences in life has been that when we do not use the good things of life with moderation we are sure to find the last lacking in flavor. now, i could not resist one last smoke when i knew i might never have another, and in so doing i drained the cup to the dregs, so to speak—" "excuse me for interrupting, but if i am alive next year, and you will tell me how i can find you, i will come and bring such creature comforts as you may wish to have. if you will tell me “i thank you with all my heart, and would suggest that the liquid refreshment might be rum, good jamaica rum. i acquired a taste for that, and beyond that and a good smoke i can ask for 48 the sociable ghost. nothing for it may have occurred to you that i have no need for food. "we are now about to go below for the banquet and general reunion of such of us as have become acquainted. there will be some guests from derby, conn., and some of their relatives, and there will be some revolutionary soldiers, and quite a number of tramp ghosts. a few sailors will also be here. they have been lying in a forgotten place over in brooklyn and they are now being rooted out of there for some one wants to build a house. and i notice there seven old fellows who have been lying under the hall of records. there was once a cemetery there and many more are there but i shall not be the one to go and tell where. it is bad enough to be waiting for your passport without having to be a tramp ghost beside. many of the old revolutionary heroes lie there and in the language of a poet: “the knights are dust, and their good swords are rust; their souls are with the saints, we trust." "ah, well! ladies will also grace the feast. the only unpleasant thing is that we have never been able to sweep away class distinctions, and pride of birth. and, i must confess that i am as bad as any one, for whenever i see a sailor i ( "i flatter myself that the decorations are fine.” -page 54. 1 the sociable ghost. 49 just ache to send him to the fo'cas'le, and of course there is no such place here. you have heard of the ruling passion being strong in death. it remains with us much as it was before we died, and it seems as if nothing can be of much moral or spiritual good until we get our passports.” just as the newspaper man was about to ask again about the passports, the other ghosts were so near that he waited, and at that moment a tall ghost stood up very straight, and smoothing a lock of imaginary hair from his forehead, said: “ladies and gentlemen—" then he paused and looked so steadily at the young man that he felt his heart sink into his boots, but the tall ghost contented himself with one long regard, and then he continued : "ladies and gentlemen, we have met here tonight to fulfill our yearly duty, and to meet in friendly intercourse. i hope you will all have a good time.” as he said this he sat down on the edge of a crumbling head stone and glared around. there were murmurs of approbation and he rose and bowed with as much grace as was possible to a ghost who had scarcely a dozen remnants of his shroud hanging around him. but this absence of raiment did not seem to affect the ghosts in 50 the sociable ghost. 1 the least, and only one or two appeared to notice that their shrouds were in need of repair. they were now by the north-west corner of the church, and at a sign from the tall ghost they all followed him and marched around back to the lawrence tomb. this was thrown open like a door in the solid masonry, and they began to descend in couples, such a crowd that they looked like mist, and no one stood out a distinct individuality in the transit. the good natured ghost then took the newspaper man by the arm and they followed the rest. no one took the slightest notice of them for which the man not yet dead was very thankful. he did not half like the idea of going down into the bowels of the earth among all these ghosts. as soon as they were down the young man saw to his surpise that there was a room so vast that his sight could not penetrate it to the end of it nor the width in any direction. it was lighted with a radiance so suave and pure that he wondered from whence it came. the vast place was sustained by many columns of the finest marble, and was arched somewhat after the fashion of the church above. he could not repress an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, for never in his life did he see anything approaching it for beauty. every column was the sociable ghost. 51 de carved in a different manner, and it seemed to him as if all the artists in the world or that ever lived had each made one, and this in competition with the others. one would be covered with flowers of such delicacy and perfection that it was impossible to believe them of marble, and the young man put out his hand and touched some of them to make sure that they were not some new and colorless plants growing down here. others were covered with the most intricate designs, and the eye wearied in trying to follow the lines, so interlaced and complicated they were. others looked like lace. the fine lace pattern could be traced in all its daintiness, and it was a marvel of skill. some of the columns resembled the tracery on the walls of the alhambra, and some had vines through which peeped women's faces in all moods, ages and degrees of beauty. twin columns stood in one place and, on these nothing but children's faces. some of the babies carved on them were laughing, others crying, and so crowded, one beside another, and one above another that one wondered how so many could have been found in the world. some of the babies were dead, others sick, some asleep, some plump and dimpled and more wan and wasted. babies, babies, and yet more babies. the news52 the sociable ghost. paper man was lost in astonishment at the number of them and the exquisiteness of the artist's work, he examined so many of these beautiful columns that his brain was weary with the effort. then he turned his gaze to the lighting of this immense place, and was surprised that he had not noticed it at first. there were arches innumerable, and each one of these was covered with growing vines, all such as bear flowers. in some places were hung baskets of the most gorgeous orchids, with their pendant foliage. many of the columns had passion vines covered with their mysterious blossoms. there were roses and clematis and hundreds of other flowers that he had never seen, all climbing up those arches, and drooping in graceful festoons. he suddenly became aware that all the light emanated from the flowers and the leaves of these climbing plants. the passion flowers emitted light of the natural color of these blossoms, and the roses shed soft radiance. even the leaves and tendrils were incandescent. every bud and flower gave its share of light and the effect of all these together was one of marvelous richness, yet it was delicate and beautiful beyond description. the odor of the different flowers hung on the air until it was almost oppressive, but yet so delicious. the young man thought what a sucthe sociable ghost. 53 cess this kind of lighting and decoration would be for some of the smart set who are always trying to find something new with which to surprise their guests. he made a mental note of it and said to himself that other men had become leaders in the domains of swelldom on less than this, and he decided to keep his eyes open for any other novelty which could be transplanted above ground. there was a breeze from somewhere, and he that the festoons of incandescent flowers were swaying in the wind, and the movement set free hundreds of delicious odors until now unsuspected. he was trying to study out a plan by which the danger of fire could be avoided, and still preserve all the marvelous effect of the illumination. as he stood lost in his admiration he became aware that a man was watching him. as he turned the man made a ceremonious bow and said: "excuse me, sir; but may i ask if you are really as much interested in the decorations as you appear to be?” "i certainly am," answered the young man, "and i wonder who could have done it. it must have taken many minds and many hands to have accomplished it. i am filled with wonder at the 54 the sociable ghost. master mind that conceived it. can you tell me anything about it?" “yes, for the original idea was mine, though many hands helped in carrying out the details. while i was alive, being a man of wealth and leisure, i amused myself in getting up unique affairs intended to amuse society. i planned many things, both of a public and private nature, and if you will look over the files of the society papers of my time you will see that all were successful, even when i had but earthly hands and intelligence to depend upon. our insight is keener now and our hands are no longer the clumsy things of life. here i have but to formulate an idea and the artists, electricians and florists know my exact meaning; i flatter myself that the decorations here to-night are pretty fine. i do not believe that any one could surpass them. what do you think?" "i think it is marvelous. but, please tell me am i not speaking to the great—" "hush, young man. no one is great or small here. only some have more power than others for certain reasons. i undertook the getting up of this affair just to keep my hand in. i hope that when i get my passport i may be able to run things in the next sphere as i did in my own circle while i was alive.” the sociable ghost. 55 the young man did not know exactly how to talk to the great man and so waited in silence for him to take up the conversation again. he did this by asking if the young man had noted many expressions of regret in the newspapers at the time of his demise. the young man took note of the word demise and decided that somehow it sounded better than the less subdued one of death, in a general way, and he thought it would sound so much better down here that he should make use of it. so he looked sympathetically at the ghost, who stood expectantly waiting, and said that he had been in school at the time, but he remembered perfectly well, and he had also heard the principal of the school tell the, scholars about the demise of so famous a man, and one so useful. that his example was a noble one for the rising generation. while he was trying to think of something else to say, the ghost suddenly and very irrelevantly said: “my dear sir, what do you consider the most satisfactory word in the english language?" the young man blushed and stammered lamely that he did not exactly know, but would be glad if the shade of such an authority would enlighten him. 56 the sociable ghost. the great man pushed out his chest, and said pompously: "i should say it is, satisfaction. i think there is no other word so strong in point of expressing a meaning to my mind. now, i can say that i am in a state of complete satisfaction so far as the success of the origination of this fete is concerned. i have arranged so many other affairs out of doors that i was glad to try my hand in a new field. it has resulted in perfect satisfaction.” here he paused to allow the young listener to signify that he fully concurred in the statement. the ghost passed his skeleton hand across his chin and in a philosophical manner continued : “life is full of unsatisfied ambitions and general unrest of mind, and hunger for food or power that nothing can satisfy but the actual realization and final satisfaction of all longings. there is another satisfaction, and that is realized revenge. when i came down here and left all the vanities and pomp of the world behind me, i heard that a certain society woman who had often tried to rebel and set aside my authority, and sometimes did really annoy me very much and interfered with my plans to a most unreasonable extent, said that now that i was gone society could draw a long breath and call its soul its own. this woman prided herself on her fine presence. she the sociable ghost. 57 even boasted that death itself could not make her ugly or less imposing. i saw her a few minutes ago, and i honestly think she makes the worst looking ghost i ever saw. i assure you that was a great satisfaction. but, to return to the decorations here. i would ask, have you seen the card room?" "card room! i was always led to think cards the invention of the evil one, and i certainly never expected to find them here.” "my dear sir; you are behind the age. cards are not by any means wicked in themselves, nor is it wicked to play them. the whole 600 play cards. some of their card parties are among the most interesting functions down here. if tom, dick or harry sit around in common places and play stud poker for the drinks, that is one thing. if mrs. schuyler van astorbilt has a card party, why it is all right to play poker, euchre or bridge whist, and if some lose why the others must win. they all are able to lose without depriving their families of bread. therefore it is no sin for society to play cards. i have decided that bridge whist is not worse than casino. there has been a lot of rot talked about the smart set, but not half of it is true-ah, yes; in a minute!" this last was said by the man who had been talking with the reporter to a man who appeared 58 the sociable ghost. to be quite excited about something. they talked for a few minutes in whispers, and then the newcomer, satisfied, went away, and the social leader and planner of the fete returned to the newspaper man with an apology, and said: "you saw me just now? well, that man came to tell me that there is a professional gambler in the card room. i must go and put him out. it would never do to let a professional gambler associate with our set. many of them are here. will you come with me?" chapter iii. the gambler's penance. as they went toward the card room, the organizer of the banquet said: “you must not be surprised if i have to employ force to get him out, for he must go whether he wants to or not. it would never do in the world to allow the morals of our place to become contaminated by the presence of such creatures, so come on.” as they neared the card room they heard female voices raised in entreaty, saying: "oh, mr. edwards, please do show us. we are at the mercy of all the society people and they put on such airs. we do not know how to play poker, and they cannot see what kind of training we have had. if you do refuse we shall never be happy, for we shall be forever shut out of good society." much more and in many different voices was 59 60 the sociable ghost. said, until it seemed that the person to whom the appeals were made consented. then there was a chorus of thanks. by this time the leader of the smart set and the newspaper man were in the room. they stood and gazed at the scene before them. there were tables all around the room. players were seated at nearly all of them. the young man noted that some played whist, others preferred euchre, while still others played seven up and beggar my neighbor and other old and innocuous games, but many were playing poker. the cards were all right but there was a total absence of chips or money. all the betting was done with pebbles. the players were totally oblivious to everything going on around them. the professional gambler was pointed out to the director of the ceremonies and he stood a little while looking at the man he was to put out. he was by all odds the biggest ghost there. his shoulders were broad and his arms long and massive. the leader stood thinking whether it would be quite safe to argue with him. he had always been a man of peace, and the only battles he had ever fought were those pertaining to matters of dispute in the social ranks above ground. he had been peacemaker there so often that he sometimes wondered that they had not killed each the sociable ghost. 61 other off like kilkenny cats. so he watched the gambler, and waited until he should do something which he might claim to be against the rules governing the conduct of affairs in this card room. one or two of the oldest whist players came to him and endeavored to convince him that it was his duty to interfere before the professional gambler had contaminated the minds of the lady ghosts by his presence. these ladies were preparing to learn to play poker. but each time that he looked at the giant proportions of this ghost the leader felt that it was not his business to interfere. if they wanted to learn what did it matter to him? finally, at the urgent requests of the others, he plucked up courage and strode over to edwards with all the superhuman dignity of a hopelessly small man, and with an air that admitted of no discussion, said: “sir; i hear that you are a professional gambler. if that is so i must request you to retire from the presence of these ladies. this is a very exclusive part of the underground world—” "are you st. peter ?" asked edwards, quietly. "no; but i have been requested to see that nobody of questionable antecedents is admitted, as it is intended for the best class-i hope you will go quietly. there are ladies present and i 62 the sociable ghost. 9) do not wish to proceed to extreme measures. otherwise i shall be obliged to put you out." "did you say that to me?" asked edwards with ominous politeness. “for, if you did, i have this to reply. i am not in the habit of taking orders from any one. but, if you still desire to try, i advise your friends to bring a basket. for, if you lay a hand on me there won't be a bone of you left big enough to make a toothpick of. now, run along, little man and don't bother me. i am at the service of these ladies, and don't you fora get it. saying this the big ghost of edwards turned his back on the pompous little man, giving his undivided attention to the ladies who had asked him to teach them the noble and elevating game of poker. after one more comprehensive glance at the massive proportions of the man before him, the leader concluded that discretion was the better part of valor. he scarcely saw how he could back down from the position he had taken without a loss of dignity. his distress was so evident that the newspaper man felt really sorry for him. he knew that this man held a high position in the esteem of the ghosts and wished to help him. so he came to his rescue in this way: "i do not think he will do much harm, and if a sort of private watch is kept on him, why, then, the sociable ghost. 63 if he does anything offensive to good taste it will be time to act. if you are willing i will stay here and if anything is wrong i can report to you. what do you think?" “so well of it that i will at once retire to the smoking room at the right of the entrance, and there you will find me if anything objectionable occurs." saying this the little great man went out and the reporter prepared himself to be amused beyond anything he had ever felt. he even expected to get more fun out of the affair than edwards himself. there were six lady ghosts, and they crowded around the big gambler endeavoring to console him for the unpleasantness that had just occurred. all, with one accord agreed that the society leader would do well to mind his own business. he was well enough to plan the banquet and get up the decorations but when he undertook to spy on the and dictate what they should do, they wanted him to understand that they were not of the wonderful 400 and didn't want to be. they thought themselves too good, so there! the six ladies then took seats at one of the tables. one might think that these six ghosts might look exactly alike, but not so, for every one had > 64 the sociable ghost. as distinct a personality as though she had not been dead so long that nothing remained but bones. but there was a sort of emanation of some indefinable kind; an atmosphere of some occult property that took the place of flesh and body. in some curious and inexplicable way this gave to each skeleton a separate individuality. even the lay mind could understand this, and the newspaper man could tell the ghosts apart perfectly well. one of these women was very small, and was clearly as pugnacious as a sparrow and as tenacious as one. the next one was a woman of the stately kind. the third was quite an old one, judging by her teeth, and sitting beside her was one with such beautiful teeth as he had never seen but once, and the sight quite unnerved him, too, for they belonged to the young girl whose wedding had brought him to this strange carnival of ghosts. the sight gave him an agonizing wrench of pain. he wondered how long it would be before she would be like these women, with nothing left of her sweet young beauty but her white and even teeth. this ghost had a way of holding her head to one side and raising her hollow eyeless sockets in what was once a most effective attitude, but it “did you say that to me ?”– page 62. the sociable ghost. 65 was now but the travesty of itself. the sight filled the young man with deep pity. this ghost was a widow. the fourth was as tall and angular as any of the two men ghosts without one redeeming trait. she was an old maid. it was easy for the young man to know all these things for some new and occult quality in his nature hitherto unknown gave him a new insight into the personality of the ghost and he saw them as they must have been in life, yet saw them only as ghosts. he sensed these things without knowing how he did so. the old maid ghost told the widow that she had heard that edwards had been a sad dog in his day, and that gave him added interest, for it must be admitted that women do admire sad dogs. when they were all seated they waited for their teacher to make a beginning. he squared his shoulders, and tried to put his hands in his pockets when he was suddenly brought to a realizing sense that there are no pockets in shrouds. he also began to realize that he had undertaken a greater task than he had thought. he had really gone into this just because he was told not to do it. he had no money nor chips, and so could not play poker. he looked the picture of misery. 66 the sociable ghost. he was thinking how he could get out of the place decently. it was the practical old maid who suggested that they should play with beans. she had heard that that was sometimes done. edwards stifled a groan. when all the other women said that it was impossible to find beans, and that it would be better to use pebbles as the others were doing, the old maid told them to wait a moment, and almost before they missed her she was back with at least a peck of beans of different colors tied up in her shroud. she tripped along in such a funny, affected manner that the newspaper man could not help smiling, though of course he hid that fact. for edwards was a much larger man than he was, and he thought that a blow from one of those bony fists would make a ghost of him too. and he was not hankering after immortality just then. the old maid emptied out all the beans, and they sorted the different colors into different piles. edwards counted them and divided them all around into equal parts. then he produced the cards and said: "we must have something to represent money and these beans" the sociable ghost. 67 “oh!” cried the sparrow ghost, "we must not bet. it is wicked to bet.” “then you cannot learn to play poker,” replied he. "i don't see why,” responded she pugnaciously. "all right. have it your own way. you will have to give up your poker lesson right now, for the betting is all there is to it.” there was a whole chorus of exclamation from the rest. the old maid ghost said that after so . much trouble had been taken, and as none of the rest had any scruples against betting beans, she did not see why the rest could not go on, and mrs. fogg stay out. the big gambler waited with what patience he could muster, for the game had little zest to him without money. he put the pack of cards back somewhere in his shroud and waited. on seeing this the other five took an anxious cry that he must not desert them. quiet was restored on the promise that the betting with the beans should be regarded solely in a pickwickian sense. so the beans were distributed. the black beans stood for fifty cents each, and the white ones for a dollar each, and the big red ones for five dollars. “that is high enough for beginners, isn't it?" asked the old lady benignly. the big professional gambler took a severe fit 68 the sociable ghost. of coughing and shook so hard that the newspaper man thought surely he would fall in pieces, but he rallied and said: "now, ladies, i deal you each five cards. your, object will be to see how many of a kind you can get together.” “what kind?” asked the sparrow woman. “why, two aces, or three deuces, trays, fours or face cards all the way up. aces are the highest." “which one?" asked the little woman. "higher than a ten ?” asked the widow. "i said the ace is the highest card in the pack," replied he. “that is not answering the question, sir. i wish to know which one." "oh, any one," answered the man wearily. “but i can't see how four aces can all be the highest," said the sparrow. “i mean that they all count higher than any other card. after ace comes king, then queen, then jack, then ten and so on. four aces make the best hand except a royal flush or straight. two of a kind are good, three better, four best. i will explain the rest as we go along. now i deal you each five cards" "you said that before," remarked one of the ghosts. the sociable ghost. 69 “so i did. now you must decide upon your limit.” "i have five cards. i thought you said that was the limit,” said she of the pretty teeth. “i mean, how much do you want to bet? as you are beginners, suppose you make it a half a dollar." “you said there was to be no betting,” cried mrs. fogg, at the same time trying to match a pair of a jack of diamonds and a four of spades that she had spread out on the table before her. "oh, you each are to put a black bean on the middle of the table, and, madam, please never show your cards until you are called.” “sir!" "oh," groaned the gambler, "what i mean is this. i will explain as we go along when some one calls for you to show down, but it or should be your object to hide your hands—cards-as completely as possible from all the others." “i don't see how i am going to find out if i don't look," grumbled the little woman. the newspaper man was enjoying this mightily, and from time to time he cast pitying eyes at the unfortunate big ghost, for once he had had the pleasure of teaching three women to play the noble game, and he fully sympathized with the suffering man, 70 the sociable ghost. the ghostly gambler gathered himself together and said: “now, ladies; there are a number of complications in this game, and as they arise i will explain them" “i would prefer to know them all at once," said she of the pretty teeth. “i am sure that i could remember." the poor man began to look as if he thought that this was a job put up against his peace of mind, but he courageously continued: "as i said, your object is to get as many pairs or cards of the same number of spots into your hand as possible, and if you have two pairs, or only one pair, you can draw three cards from the pack putting as many of those as you hold in your hand backdiscard, they call that--and try and make up a full hand that way. now each of you has five cards. please look at them, and, well, as this is the first, perhaps it would be better for you to show them, and i will advise you what to > do." “you just told me not to show mine." "now, wouldn't that come and fetch you?” muttered the wretch under his breath. "what's trump?” asked she whose teeth were so pretty. the old maid scored a hit by putting her cards, a the sociable ghost. 71 hand and all, into the big paw of the gambler, and letting it lie there innocently. “i'll scrape the pot,” cried the old lady ghost, at the same time triumphantly showing two deuces and three trays. "i—1—beg your pardon ?" said the bewildered man. “isn't that what you say when you get better than any one?" she asked defiantly. "oh, yes," murmured he faintly; "but we must wait and see what the others have got." one lady had two queens, two jacks and a tray, and another had four fives and an ace. mrs. fogg had a four, a seven, a jack and two nines. she was highly indignant when she discovered that her hand did not count beside the others. "if there is going to be such favoritism shown, i don't care to play,” she said, pouting. the woman with the pretty teeth had a pair of aces and three kings, and the old maid had a royal flush. it was a task beside which that of hercules sunk into ignoble insignificance to explain just why a royal flush was higher than the pairs on which he had just laid such stress, while he had not even mentioned the royal flush at all. he made up his mind that he would not mention a straight even if one turned up every hand. the a 72 the sociable ghost. miserable man was nearly exhausted before they all understood, and he never thought of looking at his own hand at all. the chair where he sat was one of those old fashioned kind, made of horse hair, and he kept slipping down, and by his gyrations alone any one could have seen his uneasiness. finally, after much explanation they got down to a real game. each got her cards, examined them defiantly and every one bet with a recklessness that had no limit but the amount of beans on hand. the last bean was on the table. after about forty-five different attempts, each prefaced and followed by explanations from the miserable ghost they had drawn and discarded. "i did not need anything more," said the old lady, “but i thought i might get something better than four aces, so now i will stand squat.” "i—i beg your pardon?” gasped he. "that is what you said, isn't it, lavinia ? i mean when you have all you want.” "oh, pat, madam. i said pat." “if you had meant pat, why did you say squat? was it meant to confuse me?" “what is trump, please,” said the widow plaintively. “there is no trump in poker, madam," said edwards for the twentieth time, 1 “i won't play if such favoritism is shown.”—page 76. 1 the sociable ghost. 73 the old maid leaned over and whispered confidentially: “please, dear mr. edwards; is mine a good hand ?” “i only wish that i might always be sure of holding one as good. why, madam, it is simply gorgeous—a regular beauty." "oh, mr. edwards! you naughty man!" “i see every one and i make it five hundred better and i call,” cried mrs. fogg, piling all her beans in a heap and then preparing one end of her a shroud to hold her winnings. the big gambler had somehow found a pocket knife and this he jabbed surreptitiously into the chair as a relief to his feelings, while the six women were quarreling over the beans. they appealed to him, and the old lady said: "mr. edwards, mrs. robinson hasn't anted at all for three hands, and miss shookes puts a handful of beans of all colors in the pot every time without counting them.” "oh, well; she knows that this is only to learn. she wouldn't do that if it were real money." “no, indeed; for i was always noted for my prudence about money. that is how i died richer than some folks i know of, who had scarcely enough to pay for their funerals.” 74 the sociable ghost. “i think, ladies, that you could all show your hands now.” mrs. fogg triumphantly put six cards on the table. she had kept one of her discards to make up three pairs. this caused much animated discussion, particularly as mrs. washner had four fives. "you said you had four aces," whimpered mrs. fogg when the case was decided against her. "i did not, did i, mr. edwards ?" “i don't remember,” replied he, wishing that he had had sense enough to go into the billiard room and stay there instead of making such an idiot of himself. “i simply said that i drew that card to see if i could get anything better than four aces. now, isn't that what you would call a bluff?” "yes; and it was a good one, too,” said he admiringly. “besides mrs. fogg had six cards, and “well she didn't have the four aces, and that isn't half as honest as my having six cards. you told me, and you know it very well, that i was to get as many pairs as i could. she didn't have the aces, and i did have three pairs, and i am entitled to the beans, so now !” the woman with the fine teeth looked dreamily at the gambler and silently laid down her hand. a the sociable ghost. 75 there were four aces and a king. none of the others had anything to beat this, and she smiled bewitchingly at him as he awarded her the beans, whereat mrs. fogg flew into a violent passion and sobbed tearlessly, until the poor man did not know what to do. she continued until he was ready to throw up the whole affair and leave as she said: "i just don't care! i am sure mr. edwards just picked those cards out on purpose for her. i don't want the old beans. i detest beans, only i believe in standing up for principle, and i know that gamblers-professional gamblers—do cheat at cards.” "i think that a gambler-even a professional gambler-would have to be very unprincipled to try to win with six cards when he knew that that was the worst kind of cheating,” said the old maid, taking up the man's defence with such an air of having the right to champion his cause that his jaw dropped and he made a movement as if for flight. at this point quite a number of other, ghosts who had gathered around them began to clap their hands, and one said: “go in, little woman, and win. you will make a famous player in time.” the little belligerent hurriedly arose and said angrily : 76 the sociable ghost. “if mr. fogg were only here, you would see what would happen. i won't stay here to be abused. i was lowering myself any way.” "i think so, too,” said the old maid, “but it was by the way you have acted and not from your association with any one here. we can spare you without sorrow." by this time several more had gathered, and the ladies, seeing that they were attracting more attention than they desired, left the card room so suddenly that the newspaper man could not tell which way they went. then he looked for the big ghost. he, too, had disappeared. so the reporter, left to himself, decided to go and find the leader and tell him the outcome of the affair. the young man thought that it might be that this affair was a form of punishment for former sins of omission or commission. but he must indeed have been a very bad man to deserve such a punishment as this, and he thought, too, that no other form of punishment could have been devised so well calculated to break a real gambler's heart. he felt sorry for him. the reporter then went to the billiard room in search of the leader of the evening's ceremonies. he was nowhere to be seen, and the young man stood watching the billiard players. he thought they all seemed to be playing in a perfunctory a the sociable ghost. 77 way, and there was no spirit in their play. spectators stood about watching the progress of the games, and occasionally making remarks of approbation or derision. there were several men there whom the young man felt sure he had seen in life, but as none spoke to him he did not exactly like to press the acquaintance. one of the men that he felt so positive that he had known in life had been a rabid billiard player, and he neglected his family to such an extent that the young reporter's mother once said that she hoped that when he died he would have to play billiards continually for a few millions of years as a just punishment. he was one of those who did not seem to be having a good time at all. thinking that there might be things of more interest going on in other parts of the place, the young newspaper man went out to the main hall. there were things to see there. chapter iv. the mended ghost. just as the reporter was going out of the room he noticed a man hobbling along in the most painful manner. the upper portion of his body was of enormous proportions. even the big gambler would have appeared dwarfed beside this man. but, large as he was, he seemed somehow to be unaccountably dwarfed, and the commendable curiosity belonging to newspaper men caused him to try and discover the meaning of this state of affairs. as the man came hobbling along he tripped and would have fallen had not the young man caught him in his arms and held him up. the young man sustained him to a seat, and as he sank down in it he asked the ghost if there was anything else he could do, or be of any further assistance. the man, with the remarkable frank78 the sociable ghost. 79 ness that seemed to be a part and parcel of everything down here, replied: “no, nobody can't do nothing for me. it was all done when i was moved. and it was done up good and brown too. nobody can't now make my legs whole again; no, not if they tried forever and forever. it is a shame, that is just what it is !” “would you mind telling me what it is that has happened to you? i am sure it must be something unusual, and if i can help you i need not say how gladly i would try.” “no; you can't help me, nor nobody else can't. but if you like i will tell you about it and maybe some one else may be spared if you put a piece in the paper about it.” this caused the reporter to break out in a cold sweat, for he now felt almost afraid to think. the ghost resumed: "i don't believe that nobody cares about us when we are once dead. i died and was buried in a vault under the old church that stands somewhere in amity street or close by. it may be gone now for all i know, for i haven't been there for a long time, and i don't care if the old shebang is torn down, for it is to that that i owe my misery. just look at me! i was a giant in my life, and stood seven feet in my stockings and 80 the sociable ghost. was big according. but, when my time came i was sick and died like the weakest critter of them all. my folks paid the seven dollars to have me put into the receiving vault like the rest. i was pretty comfortable for the first year. the rule was that when new corpusses came in they must be put into the receiving vault the first year. afterwards they were put into the back vault to make room for the new comers. there was shelves in the first one, and nobody couldn't crowd his neighbors, but in the back vault he was laid just one coffin on top of another, and nothing between them. at one time there was over five thousand corpusses under the church, but hardly anybody knowed it. “the most of the coffins was old what was in the back vault, specially the lower line, and often when a new fellow was put in on top of the other lot the old coffins would mash down to nothing, and nothing of the body would be left, but the bones, and you can just guess how that squeezed. they kept on piling more and more until even with the crumbling old coffins there was no more room. then the trustees or whoever it was that had the say, decided that we must all be moved to york bay, and they sot about moving us.” the reporter was deeply interested in this, and followed every word with the greatest care, for if the mended ghost.–page 79. i the sociable ghost. 31 it turned out to be true after he should be in a position to verify it, he intended to write it up for the benefit of humanity. the ghost accepted the chair which the young man brought him and continued his story. “them trustees thought that the sooner the job was done and the stiller they was about it the better it would be, and there was a whole bunch of coveys come to do it. they busted all the coffins what wasn't already busted, and they throwed them into one heap, tore out all the linings, and took off the shrouds, that was left, and they throwed them into one heap to sell for old rags. and all the plates and handles was took along with the rest. then they brought a lot of common pine boxes. all the corpusses what wasn't claimed by the folks related to the corpus was just chucked into them, sometimes three and more in one. when they got three or four into one box and the lid wouldn't shut, they jumped on the top or jammed the bones down till it did. one woman had all her ribs broken and several others had their breast bones stove in to get enough of them into one box. there was one box fixed for three, and they chucked me in that head foremost. there was not half room enough, so my legs stuck out over two feet, and to make me fit in what did them dum fools do but take a 82 the sociable ghost. ܪ spade and just naturally chop off my feet right in the middle of the legs, and throwed them in, and that is how i am in this fix. i tied them up the best i could, but to get a purchase i had to lap them as you see. they don't feel solid. i expect to fall down every step i take. see how i had to fix them." as he said this, the poor giant, shorn not of his strength but of his length, stuck out his offending feet. surely enough they were chopped off as he said, for the marks of the sharp spade were still visible. the two ends of the bones to each leg had been, as he said, spliced by sliding them past each other and then tying them in place. they lapped at least twelve inches and that cut the man's stature down two whole feet. the worst feature about it was that the parts were not, and could not be made solid enough to make locomotion safe or comfortable. “if ever i get out of here alive,” thought the reporter, “i shall make it impossible for folks to kick me around like that. i shall have it fixed so that my body will be cremated and the ashes hidden so that nobody can ever find them. then he spoke: "your case is certainly a hard one, and i am surprised that the board of health ever allowed such things. surely they must have known of it." the sociable ghost. 83 "do you know, that affair was just the cause of the law that was passed making it necessary to have a coroner's inquest on every body, and all the things that them coveys had piled up to sell was took away and burnt. the "police gazette” took and printed pictures about it, and that is the first time that i remember of seeing big headlines, and they was all about 'the awful desecration of the dead, and the trusteeses had to do a lot of things to keep the people from making a fuss. after that they was a little more careful what they done to the bodies, but it was too late to do anything for me. this here affair was in about 1830, but i am not sure to a day about the date, for naturally we don't care so much about time when we are facing something else.” "suppose i get you a pair of crutches?” said the young man with deep sympathy. the ghost said they could do no good, but that he was grateful that there was some one who showed a little feeling for one so long dead. he added that he hoped to get his release soon, as he had always been as good a man as he knew how to be, and when he did get his passport he would not need legs. almost as soon as he had said this the poor ghost sat back in his chair and went to sleep. 84 the sociable ghost. a after several vain attempts to rouse him the young man wandered around a little. he found that while he had been in the card and billiard rooms the tables for the banquet had been prepared, and he looked around in surprised admiration. each table was more than a hundred feet long, and there were so many of them that he soon gave up the attempt to count them all. the covers set on each table were seventy-five on each side with a seat of honor at the head. the table service was something wonderful. it recalled a day when he went to see the preparations for a grand banquet at the home of the late w. h. vanderbilt. all along three sides of the large dining room there were glass cabinets reaching to the ceiling, and in these there were great silver plates, and platters, side dishes, tureens, punch bowls, tankards, pitchers and goblets of every description, each a perfect work of art after its kind. there were golden dishes of many shapes, all richly wrought and not one among them that was not worthy a close study for the beauty of form and fine goldsmith's work. but not all of that mass of gold and silver put together could balance the value and workmanship upon even one the sociable ghost. 85 9 of the articles which stood so thickly on these tables. great pitchers of gold in the most exquisite rehausse and repousse work, filled to the brim with wine, stood all along the center of the tables, and around each were clustered golden goblets, according to the number of guests expected to be seated there. there were buffets in every direction, and quite a number of men had apparently found them already. upon the tables were all the delicacies that one could have found at the most perfectly appointed hotels. one table reminded the reporter of a grand ball and house warming at the home of the late ogden goelet, where there was not a piece of plate that was not duplicated here. even the napery looked the same and set the newspaper man to wondering whether the ghosts did not borrow their plate and other things from the owners for the occasion. above, the festoons of the incandescent lights in the form of flowers shed their soft radiance, and also such perfume as would naturally exhale from such blossoms. all was a pleasure to the eye •and taste. while the young man was standing at the head of the central table there came the sound of a silvery note of music, such as might come from 86 the sociable ghost. some sort of a horn, but wonderfully sweet and clear. it appeared that this was the signal for all the ghosts to take their places at the table. in an amazingly short time they were seated. the reporter found that he had not been included in the list of the guests at the banquet. he felt a little vexed, though he really did not feel hungry, and he had an idea that he did not want to eat with the ghosts. he remembered a poem that he had read somewhere about ghosts drinking out of skulls newly torn from the grave, and he smiled at the contrast of these magnificent tables and viands. the company was seated much as they would be at any other banquet, only there were no waiters. every one was seated and they all waited on themselves and each other, for, as he learned later the grave, like love, levels all things. and this in spite of the class distinctions mentioned before. the ghosts were placed so that there was a lady and gentleman ghost side by side. the gentlemen were as punctiliously polite as could be desired and served the ladies with the greatest attention and assiduity. at this juncture the sociable ghost came puffing up, much exercised, and said: "my dear sir, i beg you to pardon my apparthe sociable ghost. 87 ent neglect, but the fact is there. was a scrap between two famous old prize fighters, and you must excuse me if i forgot everything else for the moment. why, for a time i really forgot that i was dead." the young man murmured that he was quite excusable, and was about to disclaim any appetite, when the sociable ghost continued: "i say! it was fine! the old fellow put the kid to sleep in about ten minutes. we had a chance to learn more about good sparring than we ever knew before. i am sure that i could give an uppercut now such as was never known in my day. "but, you really must join us. i had a seat reserved for you at this table where you can see everything that is going on, and where you will have a chance to learn many things of which you never heard. ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce a friend of mine, who is not yet of us, but whom i have invited to pass the evening with us. i hope you will make him welcome for my sake until you learn to like him for his own.” there was a confused murmur intended as a welcome accompanied with bows from all the guests at this table. the newspaper man saw that all these ghosts were really hungry, and ate with 88 the sociable ghost. genuine appetite. the wine was poured out in generous quantities, and they drank as if exceedingly thirsty, and soon the great hall rang with laughter, and lively sallies of wit and anecdote. he tried so hard to listen to them all that to his intense chagrin he found afterward that he could not remember half of it and what he did recollect was so disjointed that it was worse than none. the ghost seemed to think it a great joke that one not dead should be among them, and many witticisms were launched at him on account of his too evident curiosity. the good natured ghost told him that he probably would not get much nourishment out of what they gave him, and that he was very sorry that he could not offer him something to take home to the children, as was the custom when he was young. he told how he cried when his parents went any where and failed to bring him home some of the good things they had had at the party. the young man answered in the same strain and said that he was not hungry, and even if he were the feast of reason and flow of soul would more than satisfy him. while the guests were eating, the young stranger within their gates was observing with great interest everything about him. there was quite “but you must join us.”—page 87. 1 the sociable ghost. 89 as wide a difference in the way the ghosts acted as among the living, and he saw some shoveling the food into their fleshless jaws with knives. he remarked that some who ate with their knives tried to give something of grace to the movement by turning the blade outward, and these ghosts held their spoons with the points to the mouths and to render this more elegant they stuck one little finger out stiffly, while grasping the handle in their bony fingers. one man poured his coffee into his saucer, when the great leader ventured to remind him that in polite society people drank their coffee from the cups, whereupon the offender asked him with some warmth if he set himself up to be better than george washington, and assured him that the father of his country poured his coffee and tea out into his saucer, and he suggested that the leader go back to his beautiful society, and see if they did not do things that no self-respecting ghost would do, or even dream of condescending to do. then the other ghosts took it up and the feeling ran so high that it almost resulted in throwing the leader from the place. then one peace-loving ghost stood up and said: "my friends, it ill becomes us to quarrel over a matter of such little importance. not all of us were born in the time of ultra-civilization. 90 the sociable ghost. most of us never saw a four-tined fork while alive, and so we were obliged to convey our food to our mouths with our knives. i do not believe it a capital sin. i well remember that i was once at a dinner where there were several clergymen and great men from various walks of life. this very gentleman's grandfather, who now objects to the use of a saucer, used a knife. i know, for in listening to something that was said he forgot and put it into his mouth. the sharp edge was toward his mouth and he cut his lip quite badly and made it bleed. everybody used their knives then. tea plates were considered part of every table service from the highest down, and they were set on the table to stand the cups in while the tea or coffee was in the saucer to cool before being drunk. it is good manners for half the world to eat with the fingers, and i cannot see how any person has a right to dictate what any one shall or shall not do." the leader stood up and angrily said: “of what use is our boasted civilization if we are to live like the beasts of the field ?” “some of us here doubtless wish that we had lived like the beasts of the field while they had the chance and failed to do so," replied the former speaker. "honestly, sir; is there anything you can bring forward to prove that the 9 the sociable ghost. 91 beasts of the field ever did anything wicked that you can bring against them now? if you do you are wiser than i, and i assure you that i would rather be the most wretched little yellow dog that i know of than be some of the men who hold such exaggerated opinions of their own importance. such men should have several billions of years allotted to them in which to learn that they knew nothing worth knowing.” the leader was so angry that he simply could not find words to reply. he glared at the speaker with such haughty and malevolent disdain, that one might have thought that this was some great social function above ground and that he was squelching some upstart with nothing but his millions to recommend him. he stared until the old ghost who had been trying to act as moderator began to show symptoms of a disposition to arise in his might and wipe up the floor with the great little man, so he haughtily turned away. as soon as this little diversion had passed off, the eating which had been suspended was now renewed with fervor. new beakers of wine were poured out, and drank with gusto. the noise of the fleshless jaws clapping together as they ate was like the patter of hailstones on the roof. it became so loud and insistent that the newspaper man grew so nervous that he could have 92 the sociable ghost. > screamed like a hysterical woman, but he set his teeth and kept quiet. he desired to enter into conversation with some of the ghosts, as there were many questions—important ones still unanswered. to that end he addressed himself to the old lady who had been trying to learn poker. he asked her if she would have some more wine, but she said: “no, i thank you, sir; but i should like some of that boned turkey. i always liked turkey, and folks that ever eat of my turkey-roast turkeyfor that is how i think a turkey should always be cooked—not that some other ways ain't good for a change that is. i was called a good cook and housekeeper in my day, and it has been my worst trial to see the awful messes my family has had to put up with since i am gone. and, the awful waste, and the dirt in my house. i used to keep them all on pins and needles all the time for fear of dirt, or that a fly would be let in. i never gave one of them a minute's peace. i thought i was doing a notable thing, then, but since i have had time to think it over it has come to me that i might have been a little less exacting. if i had been perhaps my boys would have stayed with me, but they couldn't stand so much nagging. well, my poor old husband has got the dyspepsia trying to eat such cooking as he the sociable ghost. 93 > has to put up with now. and down here i naturally don't have a chance to cook. i think i could feel reconciled to being dead if i could only cook a meal of victuals once in a while.” "i don't never want to cook, and i'd go plum crazy distracted if i had to,” said another woman ghost. "i had to cook for my father, five brothers, and all the farm hands, and every one of them with different tastes, and none of them ever satisfied. i nearly died trying to please them all. i used to get so tired that i wanted to die long before i did. then a man asked me to marry him, and i thought it would be easier to please one man alone than all the sixteen, and i took him. you ought to have seen the way my folks went on! you just ought to have seen it! you would think i had committed an unpardonable sin, but it was done and i must confess that i am glad at the way they have to live now. father hired many housekeepers, one after another, and when he found one that could really cook he married her. as soon as she was mistress she wouldn't lift her hand to cook a meal, and my brothers all died. some of them have told me when they saw me here that they were awful sorry, and wished they could undo it all. but, my husband was worse than all the others combined. i just couldn't tell 94 the sociable ghost. " all he made me suffer. at last i gave up and died in self-preservation. i died to get out of the eternal kitchen.” “why, martha," said another ghost, “i never knew it was so bad as that. i always thought you cooked because you liked it and was too proud of your faculty to ever let any one take your place." "well, i didn't; but i hated worse than all that any one should know how bad i did hate it. i reckon if we knew all that goes on in our neighbor's hearts we would have a little more charity. you used to say that i neglected my church duties, and didn't sew for the heathen, and many a tract you left me on the sin of idleness, me what had been up every morning for ten years at four o'clock, and never got to bed till ten and eleven, working every minute all the time. sometimes i felt like telling you to mind your own business. it is all over now, but i should like to know how much good has all your sewing for the heathen done you towards getting your passport? as you know the truth now, melissy, which would you rather be: the enlightened christian with the responsibility of knowledge of good and evil, or the ignorant heathen ?” “yes; i know now, martha, but i did not the sociable ghost. 95 > then, and now, if it is not too late, i want to ask your forgiveness." this last was said with an evident disposition on the part of “melissy” to fall upon the bony neck of “martha” that an unregenerate man said with a harsh, rasping laugh: “forget it, forget it! this is no time to bring up old scores. if it were so, there are several fellows here to-night that i could lick with a clear conscience. i don't hold enmity, but i will say that they will do well not to rouse the sleeping lion.” as this ghost spoke, he turned his face toward two men at a table a short distance away, and waited to see the effect of his words. as no one took up the challenge the man sat down again at the table. the newspaper man looked at this ghost with considerable interest, and thought that of all the ghosts he was the cleanest. he had noticed this ghost sitting at a rude table near the door. there was a candle burning there and an inkstand, and two immense books. the ghost sat balancing a pen, but was doing no writing. he had noticed him then as his skull and bones fairly shone, so white and polished they were. it was not the intention of the young man to ask any impertinent questions about anything he 96 the sociable ghost. saw there, but he thought to himself that when he was alone with the good natured ghost he would ask him how this phenomenon had occurred. while he was thinking this, the polished ghost turned to him and said: "young stranger, i notice that you are somewhat interested in me, and far from feeling hurt at your natural curiosity, i am flattered by it and if you wish it i will tell you in a few words how it happens that i am so white after having been so long dead." the young man felt his blood all mount to his face as he saw that even his secret thought could not be hidden, and he reflected that if even these ghosts knew what he thought, how impossible it would be to hide action or thought from the master, as the ghosts called the one. “ahem! young sir, that is the right feeling. but to resume. i was married to a very sensible and worthy woman, with no nonsense about her. she kept her house well, and everything that she could do for my comfort and happiness she did. i felt very badly to leave her, but once you are called you must go, and i went. at that time long island city was scarcely more than a hole in the ground, and the church to which i belonged found that it would soon become necessary to remove from new york city, so they pur9 16 forget it, forget it !”—page 95. !! | the sociable ghost. 97 chased a plot of ground quite in the outskirts of the former named place. i was laid in the old churchyard until they should be ready to remove us all. we were finally taken over there and put into the meanest kind of ground, all soaked with tidewater and the refuse of ages, which had been swept there by the tides until it grew to what no one with any regard for the truth would call solid ground. it is unhealthy even for a dead man. "well, there was a sudden rush for that place for its commercial value, and if i remember rightly i laid about where the big sugar refinery now stands. but it may have been a little further along, for i had the chills so bad during all this time that it is not to be wondered at if i am a bit hazy as to the exact location. we were all glad when we were moved from that place to one further from the shore. this was really a comfortable graveyard, but somebody wanted this place, too, and we found that we had congratulated ourselves too. soon, and we were informed that we were to be moved again. “in those days the best coffins were made of solid mahogany, and the longer that remains in the ground the more solid it grows. several years had passed, perhaps thirty, and when we were moved many of the cheaper coffins had crumbled 98 the sociable ghost. to nothing. it was not an easy job to arrange for these bodies, for this removal was so long after the burial that there were no friends left to see to it, and the church had to bear the expenses, and we who are dead know what that means.” as the polished ghost said this, there was a long drawn sigh from the whole assemblage that set all the lights flickering. he continued, sadly and solemnly: “i will not dwell on the inconvenience of that removal, though i was left out all night in the rain. still no one was to blame for that. some of those whose coffins were of poor wood got very wet and some of them have had rheumatism ever since. ghostly rheumatism, you know. “at last we were put into another cemetery in williamsburg, another most unhealthy place for ghosts. none of us felt at home there. we began to expect another removal as this place was building up rapidly, and we used to talk it over and hope that when we were moved again we should be put so far out on the island that no one would ever want the land. "it came upon us after all like a shock when we heard that we were to move on again, like jo in bleak house. whatever old coffin had held together before now fell apart. my coffin the sociable ghost. 99 was of mahogany, but in the last removal somehow, half of the lid was knocked off, and one from some other coffin was put in its place. naturally that did not last as long as my own cover, and so when the coffins were all laid out for the final removal i felt how very frail and rotten this one was, and was in great fear that some incautious movement would cause it to crumble. i do not know why it is that coffins have that faculty of crumbling away to dust. i never noticed any other wood that did it. however, all who had any living relatives were properly removed, but those who had none had to go the way of friendless ghosts, and there were things said and done that would have caused trouble had there been any one capable of objecting. "my wife came and insisted that my coffin should be opened, but it was against the rule, for the sexton who had care of the removals had taken extra care that all should be done so that there would be no difficulty in identifying the bodies in case of need. my coffin therefore was all right, save for the lid, but she would not accept it on that account unless she could be permitted to open it. that they would not do. “she tried every way to get them to consent, but the board of health had made the law so, and what do you think she did ? she sent the 100 the sociable ghost. men off on an errand, and took a spade that was lying near and pried the lid off so that she could see me, and when the men came running back, she said: 'that's him. i would know his head any where, it was so long.' she was so glad that she had outwitted the authorities that she did not complain about the lid. but she was tired of moving me around, and so had me taken home where i had lived and died, and there she kept me all these years, 'just to have a man about the house' she said. as she was one of the cleanest women in the world, she could not bear to see the mould of the long island mud on me, and every saturday i had a bath. she put clean clothes on me, and always did as long as she lived. we both lie now at kenisco. i hope there will be no removal from there, but you must not blame me if i have lost confidence when it comes to be a question of routing out the dead to make place for the living, if there is money in it." 2 chapter v. the princess from egypt. while the polished ghost was relating his varied experiences, the women were talking, and the young man found that his thoughts wandered as he noticed a couple of articulated skeletons. he wondered if their experience would not be worth an effort, and was trying to think up some plan by which he could get them to talk, but before he could do so a man, on the other side of the woman who hated cooking, said solemnly: “now, maybe your folks had dyspepsy. that excuses much, and some folks that are not really nagging by nature get so by their sufferings. now, i knowed a fellow, and he was something awful. nobody couldn't do nothin' to pacify him after he had had his dinner, and at last it got so that smoking injured his witals and his wittels done him no good." "did he pine away and die slow or go off all of ioi 102 the sociable ghost. a sudden at the end, as it were?” asked the old lady sympathetically. "well, i disremember, for i was in californy that year and when i came back he was gone." the young reporter thought this was a good time to try to learn what death really meant, and so he chose out a ghost whose frontal development was such as to give the appearance of great intellectuality, and said modestly: “sir, i hope you will not take it amiss if i ask you a few questions"fire away!" replied the ghost. this unexpected answer quite took his breath away, but he managed to keep a sober face and asked: "i wish very much to know how a man feels when he knows that he is drawing his last breath, when in short, he knows he is dying. if it is not asking too much i should like to have as many of you as are willing to tell me, each his individual experience.” one thoughtful looking man waited a moment and as nobody else took up the question he said: "i think few of us are conscious when the last moment comes. we have all probably been so ill that there was a complete blank, and where by accident or any mortal injury it stands to reason that the shock and hurt would render the person the sociable ghost. 103 unconscious. you may not know that i was a bishop in my life time. i thought that i had nothing to fear, and so as i lay ill-i suffered a long time with the gout-the usual result of eating and drinking--at last it went to the stomach and i died. before departing, i called my weeping friends and told them that the lord had called me and i was ready to go. i posed as a martyr and angel of grace, and my deathbed farewell was spoken of as edifying. i really believed i was almost a saint, and it was for a long time a matter of surprise to me to discover that i was not wafted to immediate glory. i had yet to learn that from he to whom much shall be given much shall be required. and here i am, the least among you all.” another ghost took up the subject and said: "the most of you here will think it queer, but when i was drawing my last breath i knew it, and my principal feeling was anger that now one of my neighbors would get my favorite horse. he had long tried to buy it, and i would not sell, but what could my widow do with that horse when i was dead? after that there was a few seconds of blank and i felt myself drawn out of my own body and in another moment i was standing looking at myself. it certainly was a strange experience, and i am glad it is all over, 104 the sociable ghost. "i have talked with many ghosts and they all agree that death itself is not so dreadful. it is like going from a light room into a dark one and no one knows what is there. i find that almost every one has felt the same fear of the unknown, but it is after all so small a change. many have a feeling as if they were falling a great distance to a profound depth in the darkness, but so far i have never found one who was really afraid of dying. it was more like the thought of the plunge into an icy bath. sickness and physical suffering have a tendency to deaden the senses. and death itself is not so much of a change as we are prone to regard it. the way i now look at it is that it is simply one of the systematic changes made from time to time, from one sphere of existence to another, according to the great eternal plan toward a better kind of man. i used to wonder if this creature here who ravages and eats everybody else, and who is altogether unworthy and vicious and selfish was the best there could be, but now that i have an inkling into the future existence, i believe that we are but atoms in one great plan, and as worlds have been formed in their perfection, so will man stand out at last as the finished being he is intended to be, in the right time as grain is ripened.” the bishop bowed his head in assent to this, and a the sociable ghost. 105 that set the reporter to thinking about the great agnostic ingersoll. he asked the company at large if they could tell him if col. robert ingersoll were present. the whole company waited. for the bishop to answer this question as though he were the proper one to do so. he spoke at last; but as if he would have preferred to waive the question: “no, mr. ingersoll is not here. he got his passport the same day he died." "i-i—thought he believed-or didn't believei really do not know how to express it,” stammered the young man in his excitement. “young man,” said the bishop impressively, “it is not what a man believes, or thinks he believes, while on earth, that gains heaven, but what he does." all the ghosts clapped their hands and shouted, "hear, hear.” the young man found food for the thought in the fact just told him. he made a resolution to become acquainted with the words of the man who had received his passport the same day he died. and, moreover, he intended to follow them. there was a ghost who up to now had taken no part in the conversation, and he suddenly fixed the newspaper man with a compelling glance and said, slowly and impressively: 106 the sociable ghost. "it seems to me that no one has exactly answered the question about the phenomenon of death, which is in reality no greater than that of birth. we see that, but even the wisest men of all time knows no more of the life principle than the most ignorant. we know only that we enter this world and quit it through the doors of pain. when my own final moment came, i knew it and braced myself so that if ever i should be able to tell those still of the world all the sensations experienced i would do so. if this is my opportunity i am glad of it. "in the first place, i was a strong man and nothing but the pneumonia ever seemed to get a hold on me. i was ill about a week, and they all thought i was getting better, and for that reason i refused to take any more medicine, though really that would have made no difference any way, time had come. “suddenly i felt a strange sensation, as if some one were pouring cold water into my lungs, and in a few minutes-perhaps seconds--my lungs were full of water. i was drowning just as much as if i had fallen into the water. i held my breath for a moment, and when i attempted to breathe it was impossible to do so. i had a moment of dizziness, and after that i saw everything about me quite clearly, and i opened my eyes for ту the sociable ghost. 107 twice more. then i felt that if i could only get the water out of my lungs i would be all right. with one last effort i turned over in bed and tried to let the water run out, but it was useless, and i said to myself that the only thing was to get out of my body, for i felt stifling and knew that if i did not breathe i should succumb. the struggle for breath continued and i suddenly let go and fell free from my body, and it was quite ten minutes before i realized that the relief i experienced was because i was dead. at least, so far as the life i had left was concerned. “when i did realize it i think my principal sentiment was anger at myself for my foolishness in trying to get loose from my own body. death means to my mind simply that the time allotted to you and your little needs in this universe has expired, and you must go to the next, which is this existence where we have not yet been purified of our earthly dross. i may add a few more words, though they are only thoughts of my own, based on what i have seen and been told. i believe that all women who die in motherhood, sailors who are drowned at sea, all who have lived pure and honest lives, all the oppressed of all peoples, all little children and many grown persons who never saw or even heard of a church, are in some way and for reasons beyond our un108 the sociable ghost. derstanding, given their passports at once. perhaps the master who knows the heart's innermost thoughts knows that-well-i can only say that i wish that all people know what our bishop has just said: 'it is not so much what a man believes as what he does that wins heaven for him.' at this moment a tall ghost arose at the end of the principal table, looked around with a pompous air and in the attitude of a sunday-school superintendent, addressing the unfortunate children, said in a clear, strong voice: “ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here to-night in accordance with our privilege and in the performance of our duty, and we have banquetted on the choicest viands." here one ghost was heard to mutter that he didn't give shucks for all their choicest viands, and he would prefer any day in the year a good dish of baked beans or bean soup to all their boned turkey and putty de foiegrass, and as for the highfalutin sweets he had rather have a mince or pumpkin pie." there were some gentle murmurs of approval at this declaration of faith, but the speaker turned severe eyes upon the grumblers, whereat they subsided. the tall ghost continued his speech: "we will now propose a toast to the ladies, thẻ sociable ghost. 109 and i wish to include our guest of honor, the princess shep, from egypt. this noble lady has left her sarcophagus at the museum of art for this occasion, and it is our desire that she be installed in the seat of honor at the head of this table and afterward at the end of the hall where she can see the dancing and hear the speeches, and also hear the epitaphs such as are put upon our graves. this lady has been dead over five thousand years, and has seen much in that time of which we are entirely ignorant. permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to present the princess shep, to whose most marvelous state of preservation we must do honor." at this point he led the princess, who was greatly hampered by her windings to a chair much higher than the others, and seated her there with much ceremony, at the same time gallantly lifting one of the little brown hands to his grinning mouth. as soon as she was seated the master of ceremonies rapped sharply for order, and then said: "ladies and gentlemen, we have several frends from derby, conn., and part of this evening's entertainment will consist of hearing them recite their remarkable epitaphs, and so allow me to introduce the ladies first. i have the honor of presenting mrs. desire kimberly, relict of mr. 110 the sociable ghost. israel kimberly, who exchanged this life for immortality august 21st, 1794, age 28.” saying this he took the hand of a small ghost, who arose to her feet, and stood bashfully, like a child at school examinations. the tall ghost said: “mrs. kimberly will repeat her own epitaph, and i will say here that in spite of its lengthits very unusual length-she has managed nearly half of it already." the lady began in a strident voice and repeated the verses, while the reporter took surreptitious notes, holding his book under the table cloth, for he felt just a little delicate about letting them know he was among them taking notes, but on the other hand he knew that he could never remember anything that had dates, or verses. he desired to be absolutely correct about this epitaph, so he took down as she repeated : "sacred to the memory of mrs. desire kimberly, who exchanged this life for immortality, august 21st, 1794, age 28." as she said this one woman near the newspaper man said to the one on the other side that she thought it entirely unnecessary for her to go over all that rigmarole, as the gentleman had just said it. the other lady in blissful ignorance of the sociable ghost. 111 this by play continued with her epitaph. the rest was the poetry. “here she bids her friends adieu, some angel calls her to the spheres; our eyes the radiant' saint pursue, through liquid telescope of tears." she sat down with murmurs of applause all around. the master of ceremonies took his stand again and said while he waved his hand : "ladies and gentlemen, this is mrs. betsy pease, who departed this life may ye 8, 1797, in ye 21st year of her age. mrs. betsy pease was the wife of mr. isaac pease, daughter of mr. thaddeous bald. mrs. pease, ladies and gentlemen." the lady began her recital in a very sing-song voice: "with pangs severe strangling in blood, she soon became a lifeless clod; the summons of her god she obeyed, she closes life and ends her days." with a low courtesy, not altogether devoid of grace, she sat down, evidently as much pleased as an elocutionist after she has recited curfew shall not ring to-night. the applause was fainter, but she appeared satisfied. the master of cere1 1 2 the sociable ghost. monies again stood up to introduce miss mary hunter, who died in 1782, aged 17. she arose to her feet, and as she did so she seemed to stretch out like the gates to a ferry boat until she reached her full height, which must have been at least six feet. she had a harsh, rasping voice, and in a slow and impressive manner she said: "she is not here, 'tis but a veil of clay that moulders into dust beneath this stone; mary herself in realms of fadeless glory has put a robe of fadeless glory on. this monumental urn is not designed to tell of beauties withering in the tomb, her brightest charms were centered in her mind which still prevail and will forever bloom. her conscious soul allied to angels hails the glorious change, and joins the blest societies above in all the freshness of immortal love. there is a world of bliss hereafter, else why are the bad above, the good beneath the green grass of the grave?” this whole performance was so irresistibly comical that the unfortunate young man had such a sudden fit of strangling that two of the most muscular ghosts smote him on the back until he was in danger of having his spinal column dislocated, while the beauteous mary sat down with an air of pride, which was quite natural when the princess shep.–page 109. the sociable ghost. 113 one considered the difficulty under which she labored. as she sat down she seemed to double up like a jacknife or a two-foot rule. there were murmurs of commiseration over the length of this epitaph, and the reporter thought to himself that it was rather a queer idea to contraste the robes of fadeless glory with the few rotting remnants of her cerements. scarcely had she taken her seat when a woman stood up, and as if she feared she would not get a chance to recite her effusion, she began and rattled it off in one string without punctuation, though to be sure this seemed to be a common fault with these ladies. she said: "mary jane smith, died feb. ist, 1752, age 43. affliction sore long time she bore, physician's art was vain, till god did please that death should seize and ease me of my pain. farewell my husband and my children, farewell to all on earth, i hope to meet you all in heaven, where parting is no more." mrs. smith's ghost sat down in the consciousness of having taken time by the forelock and that now she was sure that no one could defraud her of her chance to recite the atrocity which she seemed to think so worthy of admiration. the 114 the sociable ghost. master of ceremonies was evidently put out to think that anyone should take liberties with his programme, so that he grew rattled a little and instead of continuing to call upon the rest of the ladies he hurriedly said: “if mr. john beers is here will he please rise and tell us what they put on his gravestone?" a very decrepit old man stood up after several trials to do so and in a weak and quavering voice repeated : "john beers, a revolutionary pensioner, died april 22, aged 89. he fell as falls the oak with years, which storms have beat upon, upon his grave we shed our tears, to heaven we hope he's gone." as this feeble old man sat down it seemed to the young man that it was a little hard on the old man's memory that they had left his ultimate destination in doubt. still, as the old man made no objection no one else had any right to complain. the old man received quite an ovation, as he subsided the master of ceremonies said: "is mr. peleg eddy here? i am sorry to say that i have never had the pleasure of meeting mr. eddy, so i cannot tell which one of our invited guests he is.” > the sociable ghost. 115 he looked around three or four times, and again asked for the gentleman from out of town. finally a gloomy looking little man stood up with a very bad grace. he could not have been more than five feet tall in life and was now considerably less. he repeated: "peleg eddy and his wife, they sot out in early life. they turned about each other's hearts, but god doth call and they must part. 'tis hard to part and leave behind a tender wife and child so kind. with anxious care she watched his bed, and kept cold towels on his head, but all in vain, for god doth send and call away her bosom friend. to his dear mother standing by, saying, *dear mother, prepare to die, the heavens in glory is full of view,' he soon did bid this world a long adïeu. a few hours after his senses fled, and now he sleeps among the dead; sleep on, sleep on, and take thy rest, god called thee home we all thought best." . as this unfortunate man, whose family had laid this heavy load on him, sat down there were murmurs of condolence all around, and the newspaper man asked if he would permit him to ask where he was buried, whereupon he glared in the > 116 the sociable ghost. most ferocious manner at the interloper, while his bony fists clenched ominously: "you may ask if you like, but i shall not answer. do you think it is not enough to have to lie under that stuff without letting all the rubberneckers in the country know where it is that they may come and make fun of it?" the young man disclaimed any such intention, and said that he regretted having asked, and apologized so abjectly that at last the poor ghost unbent a little and volunteered the information that the widow who had been such a ministering angel with her cold towels had wedded again in just one year, "and his name is whipple, and i am just laying for him. if ever i do find him i am going to pulverize him. he wrote that epitaph and my wife thought it such a wonderful poetic effusion that she lost her heart, and common sense. i wait year after year in hopes of meeting him. have you any idea how many centuries it will take to rub out all that?" the newspaper man told the unhappy ghost that there was no punishment too great for a man guilty of such a pack of doggerel, and he meant it, and made another mental note that he should leave strict orders that no epitaph should be put over his resting place when he should be the sociable ghost. 117 no more. the master of ceremonies now stood up and announced: "i have the honor to announce that sergeant benjamin davis, who was in the civil war in the seventh regiment of connecticut volunteers is here. he participated in sixteen battles and served four years. he will now speak.” the ghost of the young man stood up, and he wore the shreds of his uniform, and so was the only ghost who did not wear what was left of his shroud. he said modestly: "ben. f. davis, a sergeant in the seventh connecticut volunteers. participated in sixteen battles with conspicuous bravery and contracted chronichere he was suddenly interrupted by the leader of society, who said with great concern: "sir, do not forget that there are ladies present.” "who is this galoot? by what right do you assume, sir, that i was about to insult these ladies ? it is a good job for you that there are ladies present. i would use you for a curry comb otherwise. now, then, just you close the doors of your face, as job says. i contracted chronic rheumatism and died of rheumatism of the heart. have you any objections to make to that?" “no, not at all, only it was probably heart fail118 the sociable ghost. ure, instead of what you say. it is not fashionable to have rheumatism of the heart now, for it is dignified as heart failure. we have heart failure, and appendicitis, and laryngitis-" "folks die of them just the same, don't they?" “yes; but it sounds so much more refined.” the soldier boy looked at the man whose refinements were so much greater than the occasion required from head to foot, and then said defiantly: "i don't see that you make any better looking ghost than the rest of us, and for two cents i would smash that ugly skull of yours, or at least reduce that very evident bump of self-esteem.” at this juncture the master of ceremonies was struggling with an overwhelming desire to laugh, for no one liked this man who always felt it a bounden duty to find fault with every one and everything. but, at last he managed to rap for order and when the other ghosts had ceased laughing at the leader's discomfiture, he said: "ladies and gentlemen, by some mischance i failed to see the name of a lady from derby, one whom we should all delight to honor, and i now ask mrs. hannah clark to rise and favor us with her epitaph. mrs. clark, ladies and gentlemen.” as he said this the old lady arose to her feet, the sociable ghost. 119 and holding to the edge of the table repeated in a weak and quavering voice: "hannah clark, died september, 1801, aged 91. her lineal descendants at the time of her death were 333, viz.: 10 children, 62 grand-children, 242 great-grandchildren and 19 great-greatgrandchildren. during her long life her company was the delight of her numerous friends and acquaintances. having performed the duties of life and being impressed with the reality and importance of religion she died as she had lived, satisfied and happy." as she said these words there came a strange and subtle change over her seamed and wrinkled skull, and she seemed to be putting on some filmy veil that softened all the outlines of the bones, and she said in a voice that grew sweeter and stronger with every word: "my dear friends, it is borne in upon me that my time has come to leave all that belongs to this stage of existence and go where my master calls me. it has come very unexpectedly, for i had not hoped for my passport for many long years yet. adieu, adieu !" even as she spoke she was undergoing a change that was so wonderful that the whole assemblage, including the reporter, watched her intently. first, the bones of her skeleton grew i 20 the sociable ghost. misty and indefinite, and in their places there gathered a soft, filmy, nebulous mass of floating particles, and little by little they united into a misty, floating body, and this in turn took the form of the dead woman's face before decay had touched it. the features were defined as those of a lovable old lady, and flesh appeared to clothe the fleshless bones. for a moment she looked at the people, and then with a smile of ineffable sweetness she vanished into nothingness, the tender smile seeming to remain even after all the rest had vanished. for several minutes everything was still, with that strange stillness which sometimes falls upon a whole community, without apparent reason, when every sense is alert, though nothing tangible is seen. the young newspaper man felt a lump rise in his throat, and two tears jumped suddenly from his eyes and rolled unheeded down his cheeks as he thought of the years of toil this woman had borne without thought or hope of recompense, and now she was so signally blest. the sight laid one more stone in the foundation of the resolves made this night as to his future. that the occasion was a solemn one, the silence and evident awe of the other ghosts was proof. besides, the fading face was so glorified, and wore such a beatific expression that no one who 領 ​with a smile of ineffable sweetness she vanished. -page 120. the sociable ghost. i 21 saw it could doubt the fact that her season of penance was ended. filled with these thoughts, and marveling at it all, the young man scarcely knew that all the tables had disappeared, when he found himself sitting alone on a chair in the middle of the immense room. he hastily rose to his feet and started off to find the sociable ghost, but he was nowhere to be seen, and so he entered into a conversation with a man who had been sitting silently at the table, and asked him if he could tell him how such a transformation had taken place and what had become of the bones, or had he been the victim of an optical illusion? the man replied: “no one knows the hour of his release until it comes, and when it does, all the bones and all other material parts fall into impalpable dust and go to help build more worlds. from now on the spirit is free from all hindrance, and it is to be supposed that it passes to a better sphere. that is all we know about it. we all hope for the hour . of release, but only the master can tell when we have earned the right.” probably the man would have said more on the subject, had not the ghost of peleg eddy come along and stopped, saying angrily: “aha! i have found you at last! you are the 122 the sociable ghost. idiot that wrote that epitaph to weigh me down forever! and, you married my widow—” “you ought to pardon me the first on account of the last.” “you are a liar, sir-" peleg eddy interrupted the conversation right here, for the other ghost doubled up his fist and let it go, and it went in the direction of peleg's head, and that not being on very strong, owing to the fact that the bones were very small, the head rolled to the floor and on for some little distance, while there was a general shout of laughter at the mishap. peleg ran after it and putting it under his arm for safety, said in trembling tones : "you had better take care, sir, and not arouse the sleeping lion. don't turn the tiger loose in i am afraid to say of what i am capable when i am aroused fully." “oh, don't be afraid to tell us, for nobody else is afraid, but i advise you to go and take a nap, and if in that sweet slumber you even dream that you can thrash me i shall know it, and i will give you one that will last you a thousand years. i owe you one for dying anyhow, or i should never have married your widow. she led me a dog's life, and i just feel like taking it out of you.” by this time all the ghosts were tired of a quarme. the sociable ghost. 123 rel promising so little real fight, and they sauntered off in different directions while the young man, left alone, walked along toward the egyptian. as he walked along he heard two women talking and as the princess happened to be the subject of their conversation he sauntered more slowly so that he could hear what they were saying. the smaller one of the two said: "i don't see where her wonderful preservation comes in, for she is nothing but a mummy anyhow. anybody could be as stiff as she is if she had been soaked in coal tar a year or so. and they dry them so that they are nothing but a piece of tinder, and i am surprised that mr. huntington should think her remarkable. i am sure she cannot show a curl of real hair as soft and silky as it was when she was alive, like some one that i know of.” this caused the young man to notice the speaker more particularly, and he saw that while she was small, there was still something about her that made him think she had been a beauty in her lifetime, for the shape and the outlines of her head and skeleton were certainly different from those of most of the others. there was something of elegance in her movements and more grace than one could mentally connect with a skelea 124 the sociable ghost. ton. she held her head very much to one side and reminded him of the girls he had read about in the old romances, “bending over her tambour frame, with her eyes cast down modestly while her lovely eyes were suffused with tears of sensibility.” on one side of the head which was turned to the newspaper man there was a long curl of silky brown hair. this she twisted constantly with her bony fingers and smoothed with apparent affection, a sentiment which the young man understood when, by an unfortunate movement she half turned her head and he saw that there was not another spear of hair on her whole skull. between a desire to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of her pretension, and pity for the little feminine vanity that made her cling to her one poor lone curl, the young man retired into the shadows made by the decorations, and that is how he happened to hear the conversation of several lady ghosts. as soon as the banquet was finished, the egyptian princess had been installed in her high chair, and she held audience with as many men as could crowd around her, and so the women were in a measure left to themselves. they gathered into groups and fell to discussing various subjects, some told of what they had been doing the eventhe sociable ghost. 125 ing before, when they were abroad in their spiritual form only. one of them said sadly: "i went to the place where my husband and i always loved to be. i thought perhaps he might be there, for he promised me as i lay dying that on every anniversary of my death he would go there. it was there that we had become engaged, and we were so happy there” "did he come?" asked she of the lone curl. "yes; he did come, but he brought another woman with him, and the very things he used to say to me he said to her. he kissed her and told her that he had never loved any one as he loved her, for such love comes but once in a lifetime. she is the fifth woman to whom i have heard him say the same things. i wish he would at least seek some other place for his foolishness, for you cannot imagine how foolish it seems to hear a man make love to another woman. he wouldn't be my choice of a man anyhow if i had my life to live over again. it will be a happy day when i get my passport and can leave all these worries behind." here was the question of passports again, and yet the newspaper man did not know what it meant. he began to blame himself for remissness in his duty, and to fear that he would find himself outside without having learned it. so 126 the sociable ghost. he made up his mind that he would ask his host about it the first thing when he should find him again. the second woman took up the conversation and said: "well, mary, your lot is not so hard as mine. you had no little children to leave. when i died i went to my old home and hovered over my little children, knowing that they needed a mother's care, and there sat another woman beside the cradle, and it was she who answered when my baby cried. it was the first time the baby spoke and she called that woman mother.” at this moment the girl with the curl, as the reporter called her, began to complain again, but this time it was about the grave of charlotte temple. "really it wearies me to see what a ridiculous fuss all the lovelorn fools make about her grave. and, she got her passport long ago. really i think that is paying a premium on weakness. one would think she was the only one to be disappointed in a man. here come any number of silly things every day and nearly always bring something to put on her slab, which isn't much, anyhow. not a word of epitaph, nothing but her name. “the only thing good about it is that some the sociable ghost. 127 > a one hollowed out a place so that birds can drink out of it. after a rain there may be some water there, but it soon dries up, and others bring flower pots and bouquets for poor floyd to sweep away. i noticed to-night that there was a scrubby little fish geranium in a dried up pot standing there and a most forlorn little kitten was trying to find a few drops of water." the young man instantly resolved that he would find that poor little kitten which, he felt sure, was the very one at which he had shied the stone. his mother would not object, so having set his conscience at rest, as so many of us do by promising to right a wrong-later on-he found himself again listening when one of the other women took up the conversation, and looking at the egyptian, who still seemed to monopolize the gentlemen ghosts to a most scandalous extent and remarked: “i think a woman as black as that mummy ought not to be allowed here among us. as to princesses of her time, they were no better than they should be, and if history is correct, they went about in such a state as to scandalize anybody. they certainly couldn't have been pretty with those black faces. and i, for one, don't think they should be set up for miracles either." at this moment there passed a queer looking 128 the sociable ghost. woman ghost. her back was bad and her legs were queer, like those of poor little jenny wren, and she had, in spite of her affliction, such a grand air of importance that she was remarkable among all the ghosts. as she passed the girl with the curl, she gave her head a toss as if she really intended an insult. as soon as she had passed out of hearing, the girl with the curl turned to the others and said: "did you see mrs. simon mullinstalk? i imagine you will know her the next time you do, for she is so proud of that name that she tries to project her personality everywhere. did you ever hear how she came by that magnificent name?" "no," they all said in a chorus, “who is she, anyway?” “why she was an old maid, and her name was sus nah skinks. she was the only daughter of old solon skinks. he had a snug little fortune, but was such a miser that they never had enough to eat. i have heard my mother say that it was working beyond her strength while she was small that she became as you see her. when her father died-her mother had died long before—he gave her all he had, on the promise that while she lived she would never marry any one. she kept her promise, but when she lay upon her ****** “don't rouse the sleeping lion.”page 122. the sociable ghost. 129 deathbed—she was then forty-eight years old she for some reason felt that she did not wish to have her name and age go down to posterity on her tombstone as an old maid. she unbosomed her feelings to her pastor. he knew she had money and might remember the missionary work in which he was interested, and advised her, saying that she was practically dead now, and there could be no harm in making a deathbed marriage. “they sent for the man whose name appealed to her. he was a hopeless paralytic, and had to be brought to her. they were left alone while she unfolded her plan to him. she wanted to be able to have mrs. on her tombstone, and if he consented to marry her now, she would will him everything she possessed. this just suited him, for the county had been supporting him for a long time, and he felt his position keenly. here was a chance to suddenly become a man of importance, and from being a pauper, he could also provide for his old mother. as the minister was there and everything foreseen and provided for, the wedding was soon over and notice of it sent to the local paper. the old mother was sent for and mr. mullinstalk remained. two days later she died. she had designed what she wished to have put on her tomb stone. but when the 130 the sociable ghost. sculptor went to carve the name, he somehow miscalculated the length of the name and could get only as far as mrs. simon mullinst-, and carried the rest to a line below, but simon seemed to think it was all right." “did she give anything to the missionaries?” asked an old lady with great interest. “not a penny, but she gave all her old clothes. that preacher was engaged to be married at the time and after the wedding they went off to some desolate place where the savages killed them. the cannibals were merciful enough to grant their last request, and that was that they should be boiled in the same kettle, and served up in the same dish, so that people could say of them that 'they were lovely in their lives and in death were not divided.'” "it must have been an intolerable blessing, when they loved each other so. poor critters! well, they are having their reward, i hope.” just then the tall ghost came along and spoke to the lady of the long, lone curl. he asked her if she would not like to take a turn, at the same time lifting her small hand in his, with exceeding care so as not to break any of the delicate bones. he said: "my dear young lady, how glad i am of having the honor of seeing you once more. it makes me the sociable ghost. 131 regret that things are as they are here, yet i find a balm for my hurt in the fact that there is no marrying, or giving in marriage, for thus i am assured that no one else can claim you. we can be friends until we get our passports, and possibly we shall be permitted to maintain the same friendly relations beyond." at this delicate compliment, the maiden bowed her head and smiled, as indeed she had to, having no means of doing anything else. so, when the tall ghost offered his arm to take her around to see the decorations, she managed so skillfully that she took his right arm so that he should not see the bald side of her head. if he had seen it he could not have made any objections since his own head was as bare of hair as a stone. as they moved off the young man turned his attention again to the women and their conversation. he heard one say: "i do not belong here, for i am buried in old st. luke's, and if it hadn't been for the kindness of a friend i should have had nowhere to go tonight. i really wish we could stay dead and not have to come out until we are called for transfer. i never come out, but i am made to wish i hadn't. you know they have taken our peaceful resting place and made a public park of it, and that without being sure that we were all removed. those a 132 the sociable ghost. of us without relatives left were removed by the trinity corporation, or at least that is what i was told. while they were moving the bodies, i remembered a verse that was written by some one who must have seen something like this. it runs: “there's a grim one-horse hearse in a jolly round trot, to the churchyard a pauper is going, i wot; the road is rough and the hearse has no springs, and hark to the dirge which the mad driver sings : 'rattle his bones over the stones, he's only a pauper whom nobody owns.'" "nobody seems to think that old bones can feel. what hurts me worst though is where it said on my monument, for i had a rather nice one for the period when i was buried, that 'she died at the age of 21 in the bloom of her youth and beauty, leaving her parents and her young husband desolate.' yes; my young husband remained desolate just one year and a day, and then he married again. but as long as they lived my parents mourned for me. i tell you what, my dears, a man's love for a woman lasts just as long as she is there to make him comfortable, and no longer. i saw him not long ago, and he is old and fat, bald and toothless, and he chews tobacco. since then i have been almost glad that i am dead. i wish i could get my passport, but i supthe sociable ghost 133 ور و pose i have not learned all the lessons the master has set for me." "do you believe that it is true that when we marry there is a truer union than that between parents and children? you know that it say's in the bible, 'for this cause a man shall leave his father and his mother, and they twain shall be one flesh.' another woman who up to now had taken no part in the conversation spoke in a resonant voice, and with a certain manner that betokened long practice in public. she said impressively: “yes; we have all heard that, but i think the translators have got it mixed, and it should not read shall, but will leave his father and mother, for we know that he will do just as he likes and find a good reason for anything he wants to do. and we do not need to be told how long it takes him to forget the wife he declared he could not live without. and we can calculate to the hour when he will remarry. the fact of the matter is that man is an utterly selfish being. women have been expecting too much of men. they should be taught that women are not to be made the playthings of an idle hour. oh, if we could only advise our earthly sisters! let us form a union-a strong union—and make our displeasure felt at this outrageous infidelity. i will be president." 134 the sociable ghost. there were murmurs of various kinds, none of them very distinct, and then the lady continued : “all of you who are in favor of the movement hold up your hands." one large and still imposing woman ostentatiously folded her hands, and several of the others followed her lead and kept their hands down. the would be president said: “madam, may i ask you if you have any personal objection to me?" "none at all," was the reply. "then i beg that you will reconsider your antagonistic attitude and raise your hand with the rest. or, if you have any objection, please state it.” "i'll be tail to no one's kite, and don't you forget it.” the young this blunt reply caused three or four men who had unnoticed gathered around, to break out into their queer crackling laughter, and this so incensed the would-be president that she walked away in a most dignified manner. man found that he had unconsciously formed the nucleus of a group of men, and he felt glad of it, for there were several things that he felt he must learn before the end of the evening. so as these men seemed to him to be kindly disposed, he said to one of them: the sociable ghost. 135 a "i could not help hearing the complaints of those ladies, and it would give me the liveliest pleasure if i could learn something more of all this reunion. and, so far as i could judge by my own short experience and observation, women are quite as apt to remarry as men. i think they are a little harsh in their judgment." “you are right, young man,” said a fine, intellectual looking ghost, “but there is something to be said on the other side. women oftener -than men after being widowed. if anything is said they claim a dozen reasons why it became a necessity. being left alone and without support, they have to marry. if they have money they need some one to take care of it. now i was married, and i assure you that had she died, i should have gone to my grave mourning for her. she promised me on my death bed that she would not give any man even enough encouragement to allow him to ask her hand. i died content, and felt sure that some time we would be united in that better land. i willed her everything i had. by george! she came to my grave one day with a bunch of flowers and began to cry and tell me that she was lonely, and that she had seen a man who could cheer her up, and asked my consent to her marriage with him. of course i could not speak to say no, and marry 136 the sociable ghost. the artful minx took my silence as a tacit consent. then she called me all sorts of a noble and a generous man, and went off. the next day she came back with the silliest looking chump you ever saw, and she said to me lying there helpless down below: 'jim, you know that i promised you that i would never let any man propose to me, so now to show you that i have kept my word, i ask you, reginald-ethelbert, to be my husband.' i was cured of all my infatuation for her as soon as i saw what kind of a man she thought so noble and so grand. they are both old now, and if i had wanted revenge, i could have had it, for they are about as well suited to each other as a cat and dog. it is better not to ask any promises, for a woman will find some way to get out of them, and it is still better not to regard wedlock as an indissoluble tie, for death does dissolve it, and we have been told that in heaven there is no marrying or giving in marriage." this was a new and comforting idea for the young man, and he began to feel that after all this life is short, and that it might not be long before the foreign count would be no more to the girl he loved so hopelessly than himself. then he asked the ghost: “will you kindly tell me, sir, on what ground the sociable ghost. 137 men and women meet in the sphere where you all ultimately go?" “there are many things which we who are still in this intermediate existence do not know, but it is the general opinion that we shall meet upon one platform of spiritual goodness, and be just friends. "in life, if you think it over, there is nothing so sweet and worthy as true friendship, and that obtains also in the world of spirits. there we shall all be friends, true and faithful in the deepest meaning of the word. we shall find the most exquisite pleasure in working for others, and as we are devoted and self-sacrificing toward others, so will others be to us, and in that way the peace and good will will so permeate all that the whole atmosphere will be charged with the utmost delight.” “according to that belief there will be no love making, and those who believed in their love for each other will not feel the same kind of sentiment in the other world?” "my young friend, as you now understand it, there is no love. there are on earth natural selections, or affinities, and there are personal attractions, and there are other and less noble instincts; vanity, interest, and a hundred other mental conditions which we bunch together and 138 the sociable ghost. call love. all of these, singly or collectively, are disappointing from beginning to end. they are the cause of more crime and misery than words can tell. love, as we call it, is of this world, and is not perfect. eliminate the word love and put in its place pure and true friendship, and we have heaven. heaven, do you understand ?” “some persons would prefer the world and the love that makes it turn around," said the newspaper man rather flippantly, yet at the same moment he felt a great throb of pain as the vision of the beautiful girl he so hopelessly loved flashed through his mind. the ghost, with a gentle bend of his head, said: "you are thinking of miss — and being also of the earth my words fall upon impatient ears, but there will come a day when all earthly desire shall have faded from your mind and heart, you will find that a pure and sweet friendship is far more satisfying than any present love could be. so keep your heart pure and be true to yourself, and your time of probation will be short. she will be there before you, and when your heart is laid bare before her"but i said nothing about any young lady," said the young man, half frightened as he suddenly remembered that fact. "i know you did not,” replied the ghost. “we " the sociable ghost. 139 do not require that any one should speak, though we do talk to each other, but that is more from force of habit than necessity. and, especially where the theme is one of deep import, one uplifting in its subject, we simply sense what another would say. "sir," said the reporter, “i should be glad of any information that you can conscientiously give me about life after death and the future existence.” "it is a natural sentiment, but i fear there is little left for you to know. you have been permitted to penetrate to the abode of the dead and to behold all there is to see. you find that men and women can come out of their coffins, walk about and converse, eat and drink, and later you may see them at their penance. you have probably noticed that they are all possessed of a certain resemblance to what they were in life—that is, they have their bony structure still, and something of their personality, and much of their disposition. so long as the bones do not decay they must stay under the conditions as you see them. the decay of the bones seems to be regulated by the character of the owner of them, and the use he made of them in his lifetime. so long as there is any of the material part of the body left the spirit is chained to it, though it may leavę 140 the sociable ghost. it for a time when the spiritual longing is stronger than the material in the bones. when we get our passports the whole dissolves, and we here long for that consummation. ah, much more than i can tell you." chapter vi. the ghosts tell stories, and compare notes. at this moment another ghost came up and joined in the conversation and said impressively: “young gentleman, you are having the most remarkable experience of your life. you want to see all you can, for probably never before did man come down and see the dead as they really are-before they get their passports. certainly some live persons do come down occasionally, but they do not count, for they are only those who are buried alive, and they do not get out, as they do not as a rule live long. all these ghosts are dead of body, but are not sufficiently purified in soul to go free from the hindrance of bones. so they all, men and women alike, are burdened with many of their old characteristics, and in many ways they act much as they did during life. in141 142 the sociable ghost. : deed, it has seemed to me that it may be quite possible that the repetition of their least pleasant characteristics here is a sort of punishment, and -well, all this will doubtless strike you as different from what you had imagined. it shall be my pleasant task to tell you anything you may wish to know so far as it lies in my power.” “i should like to know very much whether you ever want to see your families, and how you manage to see them, and how it is that you seem to know everything that goes on above ground.” "we lie here in the dark alone, for except for this one night in the year our bones are imprisoned in our coffins, or wherever we lie, if, as many of us have no coffins to lie in. that silence and isolation naturally creates a necessity for thought, concentrated and intense. this thought is most often connected with those whom we have left, and with whom we have been the most closely associated in life, and so the thought becomes desire. thoughts are things, and they crystallize into a vehicle for our transportation to wherever we wish to go. we then become in a measure disassociated from the material part of ourselves, and the freed spirit can go where it will, and as it retains its ego, it is as a general rule anything but pleasant to go and hover around places and persons we have left. sometimes it has occurred the sociable ghost. 143 to me that some of our punishment was thus intended. “in my life i was one of that kind of men that thought the world could not go on without me, and i was sure that my death would leave a void that never could be filled. and, above all, i thought that all my well-laid plans for the benefit of my family would be allowed to relapse into confusion. all i ever did for my family was to advise them, and the only real benefit i ever conferred upon them was by dying, so that they could collect the insurance i had placed on my life. well, i have since been obliged to float around in space, unnoticed and unheard, and probably unremembered, while things were being done which would have had no approbation from me, and they came out right after all. i am obliged to admit that my family and the world at large have gained by my death. yet i was a very religious man and was class leader in church, and always had prayers every morning before breakfast. i am ashamed to tell you the epitaph they put on my stone, but i must admit in the light of what i know now i deserved much worse.” "i should like very much to know what it was," said the reporter eagerly. “very well; i will repeat it, leaving out the 'here lies,' etc.: 144 the sociable ghost. 'he gave each day to almighty god, advice of considerable worth; but his wife took in sewing to keep him going, while he superintended the earth.'' "but it is much when you get to such a point that you see what were your shortcomings in the upper world.” “how much of it is out?” said another ghost who was standing by interested in this recital. "oh, you know that is truth and so is easy." “i suppose we all have shortcomings against our record when it comes to count all the things we did and didn't do to our wives. we seemed to think that when we had married a woman there was nothing further to do to make her happy, and the better and more willing she was the more we imposed upon her. i was rather bossy myself, and i thought as you did that this world could not get along without me, and i guess i must have carried my bossiness a little too far. one morning marinthy was tired of it and fixed a plan that made me a little ashamed, for the time. she slipped out of bed before daylight and set all the clocks ahead four hours and then rang the dinner bell and when the family had all gathered she told them that she did not know : i 1 wis (6 “i found her sitting at the piano.”—page 153. ! 1 the sociable ghost. 145 what was going to happen now, for their father had forgotten to tell the lord that it was time for the sun to rise." “you are not the only one to have a rise taken out of you, for i had a little of that sort of experience myself,” said another ghost with a very long under jaw. “i, too, liked to lay down the law for all my family to obey. my wife was generally a meek little soul, and never questioned my right to order even the most trifling things. but, at last she revolted and one day during protracted meetings when two clergymen and the vestryman of our church were at my house to dinner and we were all in the parlor waiting for it to be ready, she opened the door half way and crept timidly into the parlor, with a meek and browbeaten air, and asked permission of me to breathe through her mouth as her nose stopped up." everybody within hearing laughed at this, but the ghost who had told it, and he glared at the first speaker, but they happened to think of something else and calmed down. one of them turned to the reporter, saying: "is there anything that you would like to know more than we have told you?” "yes; you said that you could float around and see all that is going on. i should like to know if was 146 the sociable ghost. any one of your friends feels or in any way recognizes your presence?" "they do not. we are intangible and invisible, and there is nothing to show them that we are there, and the most ridiculous side of it is that every one would be scared nearly to death if he or she knew that there was a spirit in the room. then is the time that they need have the least fear, for there is nothing of us that could do the least possible harm.” "are there no persons whose natures are so attuned to the spiritual life that they can see you or feel your presence, and keep silent ?” “if there is one i do not know him or her, and frankly, i do not think that any one ever saw a spirit. there is nothing to see. as to the return of disembodied spirits to their old habitations, that is certainly true, but no one knows it or can know it, and so it does no harm and no special good.” here the first speaker took up the question and said: "i believe that we can influence some dreams by entering into the mind of one who sleeps and is therefore in a measure free from all earthly thrall save life itself. i know that three times i have been able to enter into the mind of my daughter in her sleep, and i have impressed her the sociable ghost. 147 so that she has shown clearly that she recognizes my direction. but her case is a peculiar' one, as she is one whose mind is absorbed to a degree by her work so that every waking thought is occupied with it and she elects to be alone as much as she can. being thus removed from most outside influences and having no distractions aside from her own thoughts, and having what one might define as an indwelling nature, as well as a highly sensitive organization, she has become almost like a sensitized photographic plate, only it is in her brain that she receives these unconscious impressions in her sleep. when she awakens she believes she has dreamed, but the impression is so strong that she obeys the line of conduct laid out for her in this way. she feels somehow that it is from me that the direction comes, and acts on it. but, from all that i have heard this is an exceptional case." "i think so, too," said the other ghost, "and now you know as much about that as we do. we are but the bones and a few ligaments, and we are waiting until such time as may suit the master to give us release, and move us to whatever sphere of existence he may choose." at this moment a ghost stepped up and said in a brisk way, as though he belonged to a newer and more active age: a 148 the sociable ghost. so. "gentlemen," here he bowed to the newspaper man, and then right and left, "what these gentlemen have said is quite true, as my own experience will show, and if this gentleman wishes i will tell my own story.” the young man bowed and said that he certainly should like to hear it, so the ghost said: “that we can come out of our mouldering bodies and hover unseen about our own homes is about six months after i was dead i was seized with the most intense longing to go to my house. i have been dead but a comparatively short time. i had been married but about two years and naturally hated to leave my young wife. but-well—we are not always free agents in these cases and must die when our time comes. i was run over by a cable car," he added as he saw that all near by seemed to be interested, and particularly the young man. “i was killed soon after the spanish war broke out. i did not want to go as a volunteer and risk being shot and killed. i had a good business all my own and a nice little home all paid for, and i had every reason to wish to live. my wife thought i ought to leave all that and strike for glory. i tried to make her see that glory does not go to the unit, but to the officers in command, but it was no use, she kept it up. i could not go anywhere without the sociable ghost. 149 hearing bands of music and seeing soldiers, and at last it annoyed me so that i would take any chance to avoid it. and, that is just how i came to be killed. i started to cross a street when one car was coming up and another going down. i never did know just how it happened, but the wheels went over my neck. you may notice how loose it is." "what did you do? how did you feel? when did you know that you were dead? or did you know nothing until they got you out?” began the reporter breathlessly, for somehow this accident appealed to him in an unusually strong way. “i knew as soon as i was out of my body. i watched them lift the car with jacks to get me out. i felt so mad that anger swallowed up every other sensation to think i had let myself be killed in this senseless way. but it was no use. i followed along and was in the house ahead of my body, and found mary sitting there surrounded with half a dozen scarehead newspapers around her reading about the war. they brought my body in, and you never saw such heartrending grief. i felt sorry for her, but i could do nothing. she sobbed and moaned and screamed with hysterics, and it took four persons to hold her. of 150 the sociable ghost. course it was a shock, i admit that, but it need not have made her such an idiot." “i think her grief quite natural,” said the reporter. “of course, of course. but wait till i tell you the rest. they sent for an undertaker, one of the swell ones. common funerals are out of date now, or you would have thought so had you heard him talk. honey from hymettus was not sweeter than his sympathy, and oil from the olive groves of italy was not so smooth as his tongue. he was so gentle and suggestive in his consolatory words that before the poor girl understood she had given him carte blanche to have a funeral such as should show the proper amount of respect for the dead and her uncontrollable grief. oh, yes; everything must be such as would pour balm into that broken heart. she had never wanted anything during my life, and she knew absolutely nothing about business, so that glib fellow just turned her around his finger. the funeral must be in church. that meant the music and preacher to pay besides all the other things. there must be palms all down the aisle, and floral pieces. i must be embalmed. welli hope he may be obliged to float helplessly around and see some other fellow embalm him. and i hope it may be a business rival! my the sociable ghost. 151 coffin was the finest, copper-lined, with silver handles and plate-glass top. and she agreed to it all without asking the price. she did not know enough. “well, i suppose i ought to feel flattered about it, but i don't. no, sir! and then the grave. the highest priced lot was chosen by that wily undertaker, and the grave dug. an awning was stretched over it, and all the earth that came out was sifted so that it should fall lightly without that sickening thud that we hear when the clods strike the coffin. folding chairs were there for the mourners, and iced vichy for those who were thirsty. carriages were provided for every tom, dick and harry that wanted to have a free ride. my wife was the only mourner, for we neither had any relatives. but, my employees were there, and every comfort was provided for them. i am telling you this to show how women are imposed upon. why the crape upon the door was a yard wide and twice as long. the undertaker made his strong point always saying that nothing less would be showing the proper respect. and my own dress suit that i hadn't worn but three times was not good enough, and so he went and put another on and charged her a hundred dollars extra. while he was doing this my wife had let her 152 the sociable ghost. friends go to the swellest store in the city and order her mourning. they did not have to pay for it themselves, and it felt important to be ordering the best. nothing short of the finest and richest eudora cloth was good enough for the dress, and this had to be almost covered with the heaviest courtauld crape, like those worn for court mourning abroad, and among the smart set here. her bonnet had a little roll of white in front to show that she was a widow, and there was veil of the crape over the bonnet that reached the feet back and front, and was reefed up in a deep fold or hem or whatever they call it. then there were gloves and black bordered handkerchiefs, and dull black jewelry, and to top off with a long sealskin coat. they told her that was the fashionable fur, for mourning, and it was better to get a good one while she was about it, as it would always be useful. they paid eight hundred dollars for that! “what is the use talking any more about it. she paid her respects to the dead in the same kind of clothes the millionaires wear, but it took the house and lot to pay for them, and crippled the business besides. that undertaker soaked her for three thousand dollars, and took a mortgage on the house and furniture to pay, and the business went to the dogs in less than six months. i the sociable ghost. 153 go any more." used to go up and hover around and try to infuse a little sense into her head, but it was no use. i don't there this last was said with such evident dejection that the reporter asked sympathetically why he had ceased his visits. "well, it is this way. one evening about six months after my death, as i was saying, i went there and found her sitting at the piano and playing softly and talking between bars to a young woman whom i had never liked. she was really the principal one to lead mary on in her fatal extravagance. "from her conversation i found that the mortgage was to be foreclosed the next week. the business was at its last gasp, and i thought she seemed more cheerful than circumstances warranted. well, to make a long story short she was telling her friend that she was engaged to marry a captain in the army and that as soon as her year and day was finished they would be married and go to porto rico where he was to be stationed. well, sir, i was so mad that i did not know what to do. all i could do was to stand there behind the piano and listen to their gabble. i never went back again. i don't care if she has to take in washing to support him. now, wouldn't that make your hair curl?” 154 the sociable ghost. "i certainly think it would,” replied the newspaper man earnestly. just then a small sized ghost stepped forward timidly and in a very polite manner bowing and signifying that he did not wish to intrude, yet had something to say. several were gathered there and each evidently intended to tell the story of his own taking off. “sir," said the little man as soon as he saw that the reporter noticed him, “perhaps you might feel interested in the singular way in which i came to die. i may almost say that i did another man's dying for him." "it would be very interesting, i am sure," replied the young man with a bow. this ghost had a heavy manzanita cane with abundant evidence of the hard knotty roots at the knob, and they were so very sharp that the simple appearance of it was quite enough to provoke interest in the story, so the little ghost heaved a deep sigh and began: "i will make my story as short as possible, as time presses. i was a young man in the best of health, when some forty-five years ago i started to california to make my fortune. i intended to start a jewelry store in one of the mining towns, in fact murphy's camp, a place well known then as it is now. some of the story i did not know the sociable ghost. 155 myself at the time of my death, though i learned it since and will incorporate it in this. “the people of that part of the country liked to play practical jokes on strangers—i was a stranger-and they took me in. the stage driver and all the passengers set out to frighten me with the most blood-curdling tales of the way travelers were robbed and murdered for their money or belongings. as i had all my stock with me i felt very nervous. i did not know that all this was what they called 'joshing green horns.' so by the time we reached murphy's i was scared all the way through. "we reached there just at sundown, and as soon as supper was over i went to my room and to bed. i was very tired. this room was partitioned off with redwood boards and was not even papered. there was just room for a narrow bed, a small stand and one chair. i put all my things under the bed, but i lay awake a long time, on account of strange mutterings and moans and cries in one of the rooms. but at last i fell asleep. “i must now tell you what i learned afterward regarding the affair. i was an englishman, small in size, and my hair was red and very curly. there was in this town another english jeweler, small and with curling red hair. he had had 156 the sociable ghost. 1 typhoid fever for several days and it was his delirious moans i heard. “all the miners of this place gathered every evening at the barroom of this hotel, at the time of which i speak, to pass the time and play cards. sometimes they remained until morning. the driver of the coach was an enormous man, strong as an ox, and as good-natured. he was a regular fanatic about the game they call poker, and they say he would play forty-eight hours on a stretch. they tell a story about how he and another poker fiend kept on playing once till their cards began to smoke before they knew the place was on fire. "seeing that this driver was settled for the night the hotel keeper asked him if he would do something for him. 'certainly, what is it?' the ? other replied that the little english jeweler was very sick, and that he was worn out taking care of him. so he asked the driver to give the sick man his medicine at exactly three o'clock. the driver was always willing to do anyone a good turn, and asked about the dose, and how to prepare it, saying at the same time that the little englishman must have been taken very suddenly. the landlord replied that he had indeed and was scarcely expected to pull through, and that all depended on his getting his medicine regularly. > 1 + the sociable ghost. 157 'and, he will tell you that he isn't sick, and don't want any medicine, and all that, but you must make him take it.' “ all right,' replied the driver, ‘i'll see that he takes it. you go to bed.' they played and smoked until three o'clock, and then the big driver mixed up the draught in a big spoon, and taking a candle he came up the stairs. he forgot about the other englishman, and asked the porter where the little englishman was that had come up that day. the sleepy porter told him where my room was. now i can tell the rest from my own knowledge. i was suddenly aroused from my sleep to see an enormous form standing beside my bed, outlined by the flickering candle on the stand, and naturally my first thought was that i was about to be robbed and murdered, perhaps murdered first. i called out to know who it was and the big figure said: “'you keep still now, and don't get excited. no one is going to hurt you, so just take this now, and then lie down and go to sleep. it won't hurt you.' "i was sure now that i was going to be drugged into insensibility and i told him that i would take nothing. he said: “'now don't you fash yourself, but take this 158 the sociable ghost. 1 1 1 medicine. it will do you good and is not bad to take, all stirred up with molasses.' “'but i won't touch it,' i cried; 'you want to drug me and rob me. get out of here.' as i said that i pushed him away with all my strength, but he just put his great hand around my neck and jerked me up in bed, saying: “ah, i knew you would say that. now come on and no more nonsense.' with that he jammed the spoon down my throat and choked me with the other hand so that i had to swallow or strangle. so i took his dose, and he let me go, and laid me down in bed again like a baby, but i think i fainted, for i knew nothing more until the daylight was streaming in the window. i found all my things untouched, but i felt awfully ill, and could scarcely get up. but i determined to leave, if they would let me, as soon as i could get away. when i did get down stairs everybody had heard of the affair and they began to make fun of me. i took passage back to stockton, but i felt very queer. i took cold and died in about six weeks, and the other englishman got well. the shock and the awful dose combined with the cold i took finished me up. what made me the maddest of all was that the doctor i had in stockton was some kind of a foreigner, and he could not write eng1 the sociable ghost. 159 lish. so, my death was written down as having been caused by 'gallumpin consumpsin'." the whole assemblage of ghosts who were listening to this tale of woe agreed that death sometimes has sharper stings than we know. the ghosts with whom the newspaper man had been talking before this interruption now gathered around him again and he thought that probably now was his chance to learn something of the question so often mentioned of “getting the passposts.” that there was to be a move onward toward some desired goal he felt sure and at the risk of seeming importunate he asked of the nearest one: “sir, is it permitted you to give me any information regarding the next move onward, or upward, or whatever you call it, or what you mean when you speak of your passports ? i need not tell you how much i desire to understand this.” “my dear sir, you know as much about it as we do. we all dread it while we still desire it sincerely. we dread it because we do not know what it will be, but on the other hand we wish the change, hoping that it will be a step toward better things. there are some reasons of which we prefer not to speak, why we would welcome a change. anyone who pretends to know more than this is a liar. you see we use strong words down a 160 the sociable ghost. here, for truth is a fundamental principle of life after death, and we are trying to practice it.” “and you might add," said one of the ghosts who had been talking when the man told of his sudden taking off and his grievance against the undertaker. "you might add that no spirit would or could harm anyone, for in the first place he has not the power, and secondly he thinks more of trying to undo the evil he did in lifetime than to do more." "just one thing more i should like to ask, and that is if there is ever any kind of religious service or observance down here?” the newspaper man was growing bolder as he became better acquainted with the ghosts, and had the welcome assurance that they would not harm him. “there is no religion as you have been taught to consider it in any of the underground places," replied the ghost. “it will surprise some of the preachers when they come down to learn even the little we know. they preach one thing, but when they get here they will find that truth in all things, love to your neighbor, and charity to all is all that is required of us, and i believe all that is essential to give us a chance to work out our own salvation.” "and for punishment? is there a hell as we they had evidently found the buffet.—page 166. | the sociable ghost. 161 have been taught? and, what must we do to be saved ? must we join some church, and if so what one?” "all churches lead to one goal. as it is, the one who created us has given us all a chance to work out our own salvation after we are dead. we can go on being ghosts, which means unredeemed souls for a few million years and redeem ourselves. but it is hard—very hard-to overcome our sins and weaknesses. as near as i can make it out there is a constant advance toward perfection in everything. it began uncounted millions of years ago, and will continue to all eternity. evolution, the survival of the fittest, and all those things have truth for foundation, though the men who have been the ones to advance those theories have but the faintest glimmering of the truth. but i think from all i have seen and heard that hell is that period of our existence while we are still chained to existence, obliged to know all that goes on without power to hinder or help. i used to preach other theology when i was a bishop, but i see things now with my spiritual instead of earthly eyes. i think i may say that this short life as men and women, is frought with more meaning than any of our previous existences in different forms—for in this life we have been pretty nearly free agents—and a pretty mess we 162 the sociable ghost. ) have made of it all. we shall have a chance to progress to higher-meaning better-conditions when we shall be sufficiently purified, or at least i hope so." “and, is there no special punishment, like frying in a cauldron of boiling pitch and things like that?” asked the young man somewhat anxiously, thinking at the same time of dante's inferno, which he had just been reading. "no, but there are such things as moral suffering, and one thing came to my knowledge to-day. this is what one might call poetic justice, and it would be comic if it were not so tragic. it is this; all the women who have deliberately and with intention shirked the cares of maternity while alive, are obliged to take care of the children of the poor overworked women whose quivers were full of them on earth. there is a kind of heavenly kindergarten, but the labors of these nurses and teachers are quite as hard as were those of the poor mothers, and the unaccustomed and often unpleasant labor is enough to make any poor rich woman shed tears of rage and worry—that is, if it were a possible thing for a ghost to cry-for the source of their tears is dried up forever. i heard one woman say that she would give one million years of heaven if she could only have one good cry.” the sociable ghost. 163 "so then there is none of that weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth that we read about and have dinned into our ears ever since we could hear, and long before we could understood ?” “no; but don't think that you can do wrong with impunity. lex talionis, is the law, and it is always enforced in one way or another. but, we are here to-night to enjoy ourselves as well as the nature of the occasion will permit. each has full permission to follow his or her own inclinations, and-well—some of them seem to forget that they are adding to their own term of detention. we have been talking on subjects usually avoided by people on pleasure bent, and i should not have said so much only that i hope it may do some good directly or indirectly. the music will soon begin to play for those who wish to dance, and after that we shall have a short convention, where some important questions will be discussed with a view to interest the living public in our needs and complaints." "before you leave me," said the young man hurriedly, "i beg you to tell me where the children are. i have not seen one, and i know that there are many buried right here and others in st. paul's, and in all other cemeteries in the city.” “children are never put under the same conditions as ours, and they are taken at once to an 164 the sociable ghost. intermediate place and classed off, according to their ages, and they are happy in their own way. they are not allowed to remember anything about their previous existence. they are never enlightened as to the world and its miseries, and no one knows that it had parents or pain. they are all equal, and all are ignorant of sin or its punishment. they always remain little children. in short, all and every one who has not yet reached a state of sinlessness must pass through eriod of purification, which i may say is purely mental, and only the master knows how long or short it will be. some that we thought would have to stay millions of years underground have all gone on long ago. others who bore the very odor of sanctity are here yet. the master has given every one a chance to save himself, each after his kind. i could never understand, even when i was officiating as bishop, how it was that such a comparatively small number of persons were to be saved from perdition, and i could not feel that a loving father and our creator could have left countless billions to die unredeemed, and then send them to that terrible hell for not knowing something which he had made it impossible for them to know. i used to wonder then, i do not now.” > the sociable ghost. 165 “will you tell me? i suppose you mean the heathen." "yes; i mean the heathen, at home and in far lands. ah, my young friend, we all try to find a short cut to heaven. i can only say love your neighbor, tell the truth, think only pure thoughts, and trust the rest to the master. he created us all, the jew and the gentile, the heathen and those calling themselves christians. they are all alike to him. "do you not see that a merciful father, loving his own creation could not condemn them to everlasting tortures for not believing something that he himself had made it impossible for them to know? you must follow the same road, and work for your passport to the next place or phase of existence, which we all hope will be better, but of which we are as ignorant as you." at this moment there was a faint and tremulous sound, indescribably sweet, and no one could have told from whence it came, but it grew in volume, and in a few minutes it had swelled louder and began to throb with the strange thrill that makes dance music so enlivening. as soon as the music was well under way it seemed to be the signal for every one to begin to talk. the noise was deafening, and the young man wondered how just ghosts could make so much confusion. he noticed a 166 the sociable ghost. three men who had evidently found the buffet, and they had evidently made the most of their find, for they would have been considered drunk in any other place. they were inclined to be noisy and quarrelsome, and the young visitor feared they would pick him out for punishment, but they seemed to ignore his presence. the bishop who had been talking to him said: “you see that we are still full of the leaven of unrighteousness. ah; there goes the most unsociable ghost i ever saw. he will never get away from here at that rate. he thinks he is just the biggest frog in the pond. nobody likes him, that tall man over near him is next to him the most disagreeable ghost here. he is so swelled up with his own importance that he is looking with a candle for insults to his dignity. but, deary me! here am i, a bishop too, gossiping like an old woman. i could be in better business, but some folks think they are the whole bunch. i heard that expression once-in fact, recentlyand it struck me as being so forcible that-ah, me; i am forced to admit that a bishop is no more when he gets before the master than any other man. and if he has not been better than the most of them he gets the same treatment. i used to think i was some value to the world, but bishops are nothing more or less than men down here. it the sociable ghost. 167 has taken over two hundred years to make me admit that much. i used to stand among other men and take their reverential words as my just due, and when we were at the banqueting board i took the best of everything as my right indisputable and just. now i take what i can get and must be content, for, as i said, all that has passed away. you see, we have outgrown preachers down here, and i often wonder why we ever had them. to change the subject, what are your impressions of what you see here to-night? "it would be impossible to define them, for i see so much that put all my preconceived notions to flight that it will take long before i can really understand them myself. i am sure that i shall profit by your discourse,” answered the reporter, earnestly, for the bishop's conversation did give him food for reflection. very opportunely one of the ghosts who had visited the buffet too often got into a wrangle, and no one knew how it happened but the young stranger, and he kept a discreet silence, for it was not his quarrel anyhow, but he had heard one ghost say to another: "i notice that your name is obliterated" he got no further, for the other doubled up his fists and cried indignantly; 168 the sociable ghost. > "you're a liar! my name is jones, and don't you forget it.” the first speaker was ready for a fight, but the other ghosts surrounded them and tried to persuade jones that the offending word was intended for a compliment, and begged him to overlook it, so finally they shook hands and sat down in a corner and promptly went to sleep. the music now struck up a grand march and the ghosts formed in couples and marched to the music, and in perfect unison. the procession appeared interminable. the ghosts floated rather than walked. it seemed as if millions passed along. the people in the procession were about as well assorted as one finds them in all marches, some being tall with short partners, and vice versa. some walked smoothly and with a certain degree of dignity while others tried to take fancy steps reminding him of a cake walk. four persons there were who did not join in the march, a young lady ghost, a tall man, the egyptian princess and the newspaper man. the young lady referred to had a timid and bashful air, and the man a gloomy bend of the head and a morose crossing of the arms over his bony chest, while the egyptian was so enveloped in her wrappings that she would have found locoa the sociable ghost. 169 motion difficult. besides she was seated to watch the proceedings. she rather liked being set up there, as something more and better than the rest, and she was not blind to the fact that all the other women were as jealous of her as they could be. the newspaper man resumed his interrupted journey toward her, keeping carefully out of the way of the dancers, until he approached the princess, and with a profound bow began a conversation with her. he was not quite sure of the proper way to address her, as she was a princess, of no one knew what dynasty. and, a ghost besides. so, he naturally felt a little timid, but as she seemed to smile affably he began, at the same time taking out his note book and pencil from force of habit. then he remembered where he was and hastily hid them again, and thanked his stars that no one had seen them, and recklessly said: “oh, most noble and highly exalted princess," here he stuck fast and did not know how to continue, but she deigned to smile on him. indeed she had to smile for the embalmer who had made a mummy of her had fixed that charming smile on her lips with coal tar or whatever it was that they used for the purpose. but, whatever it was it served its purpose, and the princess smiled. "approach, young man” she said gently. he 170 the sociable ghost. drew near and took hold of the bony but small and well shaped hand and was about to give it a hearty shake, but he remembered in time that it was the custom to kiss the hands of sovereigns, and he was not sure enough of her rank to take any chances, so he thought it better to make the mistake on the right side. so he knelt and kissed the hand held out to him, while his hair stood on end at that cold and stony contact. he wondered if in some occult way he had not bound himself to her through eternity. she broke the charm by saying in a voice as sweet as any one could wish to hear: "sir, be good enough to tell me in what way i can serve you, for i see question in your eyes and desire in your heart?" " this did not reassure him, for he did not half like the idea that all his thoughts were so evident, but he tried to do the best he could under the circumstance by saying lamely: "most noble of princesses, i will not try to disguise from your highness that i should be most grateful if you would tell me something about your illustrious self and how you came to this country and anything you may have seen in your long pilgrimage. your highness must have seen many things that the world would like to know, the master of ceremonies said that you are more the sociable ghost. 171 than five thousand years old, yet i find you young and beautiful” here the reporter stopped and strangled, for he happened to remember that she could read his thoughts, and he had said in his mind, “now we shall see how long a woman remains susceptible to flattery," and the cold sweat broke out on his forehead, but she only smiled more graciously than before, and said: “i now perceive that you are not one of those vulgar curiosity seekers like those who tore me from my tomb, where i had hoped to sleep until my summons came. there is very little to tell. i have seen but about four thousand and nine hundred and fifty years, so i am not so old by considerable as that gentleman said, and doubtless in good faith. but, i have seen nations, races and armies melt away so that no trace of their existence remains, no stone of their habitations is seen above ground, and i have seen lands change their boundaries and the new rise up out of the old. kings and queens have become dust and buried so deep in it that no one can tell where they were. yes; i have seen so much that it would require a lifetime to tell you the half.” “ah, did your highness ever see cleopatra ? she has always been a prominent figure in egyptian history-and-she has been much discussed. 172 the sociable ghost. 1 i should like to know something of her from a contemporary.” “oh,” she replied stiffly, “i scarcely know to which cleopatra you refer. there were several of them, but i suppose you refer to she who reigned last and was the cause of the overthrow of the nation, and who killed herself with an asp." “yes, your highness, that is the one,” replied the young man eagerly. "well, in the first place, that queen is entirely too modern, and she reigned something like three or four hundred years before the christian era, while i came from the family of one of the first of the real egyptian sovereigns. she was not even egyptian, being only of greek origin. we did not recognize her when she died and she was not even mummified, for the romans would not have allowed it, and so no one ever knew what ever really became of her body. it did not interest us, as she was an upstart who had brought all sorts of evils upon my country. she is doubtless dust and ashes two thousand years ago. she was greatly overrated, and was nowhere near so beautiful as she has been considered. i belonged to the first dynasty, though there had been many kings and queens before me. my tomb was like those of the first royal ladies of my line. i had never been married-nor had i reigned, so accordthe sociable ghost. 173 ing to usage, my tomb and sarcophagus were plain, save for the paintings on them to tell who i was. one day some vandals came and rifled my tomb and took my mummy case, and brought it to this country and put me in the museum in a glass case, and you have no idea how angry it makes me to have to squeeze out. may the jackals eat their bones, and leave no two of them together, so they will never find them in this world or the other and may wild beasts tear their children, and leave the mothers desolate, and raze their dwellings, and may their babes starve to death, and may they all die crying for water—" how much longer this would have continued the newspaper man did not know, but he began to feel most uncomfortable, for one of these very collectors of mummies was his own father, and if he had not brought his particular one he had brought two others. he began to want to go home, but he tried to look sympathetic, and as if he had never heard of such terrible things as stealing mummies before. she continued: "yes; i am lady shep, and when i was mummified these lines were put upon my case. not everybody knows about them, but i will tell you. first, there was a line of text, and this is what it says: 'royal offering of osiris unifer (the good 174 the sociable ghost. being), great lord god of abydos, may he give every good thing, libations to the ka (double) of the orisis, the lady of the house, the honorable shep (justified).' this means that i lay a day and a night in the underground temple in the arms of memnon, and all the good deeds i had done were weighed, and when they were found to be more than the evil ones i was justified. on the other side was this inscription: 'the worthy mistress and daughter of ru-ru, justified; her mother was the lady of the house, tarerust, justified, and worthy. on the left is another with the goddess maat, and there are other gods and goddesses, all saying that shep, the lady of the house, is justified and worthy of a place among the illustrious dead. we did not have to go under the same peculiar conditions as do you who have a different way of burial and belief. perhaps because our bodies are made imperishable we come under another division. i cannot tell, but this i know, i slept peacefully when i should and did no harm when i came out at the command, and then the explorers as they call them, came and took me from my country so far away that i shall never see it more." “is there no way by which you could go back ?" ” asked the young man, touched by her sorrow. “no; for the scientific men would never let me the sociable ghost. 175 go. because my mummy case is the best one they have, and i am told that men of science have no honor and no feeling where it concerns the despoiling of tombs, whether they be of our people, or the red indians who have built mounds or the mexicans, or the old peruvians. and, besides, we ghosts cannot cross the ocean in spirit form unless our bones go too.” “may i ask why?” questioned the young man, really distressed by what he heard, and now understood as he could not have done a day, even a few hours before. "because the spirit is an essence, and the cold of the water chills it, and renders it powerless to float, and so i can never behold the dear country of my birth again." “what if i stole your mummy from the museum and took it back to egypt?" said the young man, carried away by sympathy. “we have often talked of just such a contingency nights up there, and we all agreed that if ever we did find any one who was willing to try, he might be beheaded after unheard-of tortures by the authorities of the museum, but if one could succeed we would make him the richest man in the world. we know many secrets. what if i told you that i know where the kings of the first and second dynasties got their 176 the sociable ghost. > gold and precious stones? i know where i kings of the second dynasty got emeralds in such profusion that we scarcely cared for them. i was dead then, but i suppose that a woman never quite loses her interest in gems. i could take you to a place where you could get all the finest emeralds that you could carry." this particularly appealed to him as the emerald was his birth stone, according to the astrologers, and besides he liked them better than any other. he remembered also that emeralds were the fashionable stones for the time, and that a fine emerald was worth more than a diamond of the same size. therefore he was impressed. he asked her when he could see her again and she answered that it must be just one whole year before she could come out of her sarcophagus in visible form, and when he wanted to try to communicate with her spirit she told him that such a things was impossible, and had never been done by any spirit that ever floated. but he could come to the museum year from then and manage somehow to stay in the building over night, and they could them discuss the situation, and see if some way could not be found by which she could be returned to her country. the young man thought if he could manage to get enough of this wealth of jewels to handle he could find some the dance and cake walk.–page 178. 1 1 the sociable ghost. 177 way to buy up the attendants. but he felt delicate about speaking of such a plan, for fear she would not understand that he didn't dare anything so dangerous without having money enough to silence all scruples of the night watchmen. he also thought to himself that probably no other man living had ever made two appointments like the two had made this night; one to bring the good natured ghost a bottle of rum and a package of tobacco, and another with a mummy in a museum to make arrangements to steal her and carry her back to egypt. it was enough to make one's hair stand on end. he thought he might be able to fix it with the ghost so that he could deposit the things in some safe place, because he felt that the affair with the princess was the more important. he was about to discuss the plan more fully when the grand march ended and the floor manager shouted: "there will now be given a selection of the newest songs, such as are sung in the theaters above ground. you are requested to listen quietly, or if you must talk let it be in whispers, for it is very disconcerting for a singer to be interrupted by conversation during the time he is trying to amuse you.” the invisible band began to play and a man stepped out in the middle of the floor, while all 178 the sociable ghost. the others formed a circle around him. they were so many that no one could have counted them, and all kept an expectant attitude, so that the words just uttered seemed quite unnecessary. as the music continued he was astonished to find that it was a rag-time dance and "coon song” combined just as he had seen only a few days ago in one of the theaters. as the man sang this the whole assembly took it quite seriously and applauded him with the rhythmic regularity of a theatrical claque, and then the same ghost bowed with a certain grace and to a persistent encore he stepped forward and began a cake walk, accompanied by a song about kissing your baby. the whole thing was so ludicrous that he nearly had a fit in trying not to laugh. he dared not give way to mirth, for they all seemed to take the matter so seriously that he was not sure as to what might happen to him. the princess was quite amused by this song and dance, and after the applause was over he asked her if she would like to dance, and she replied that none but slaves danced in her country, and they did so simply to amuse their owners. he was still under the stimulous of suppressed laughter and regarded the invitation as a good joke, but he would have changed his mind if she had not said sweetly: the sociable ghost. 179 “of course you could not know it, but prin cesses could not so demean themselves.” "i beg your most noble highness to pardon my ignorance. i will not offend again." then to change the subject he said hastily: "i saw some egyptians dance at chicago, at the exposition, and also at buffalo, and i suppose the slaves danced much like that in your day. they say that customs change little in those old places—that is -ah-in regard to such pastimes—” stammered the young man suddenly conscious that her painted eyes were flashing fire. she said haughtily: “do you refer to the dance called coucheecouchee? if you do, i will say that any slave that tried that on us of the old times would be short on heads so soon that she would not know what had happened to her.” then in a tone of disgust, she continued as if to herself: "now wouldn't that rock you to sleep?" the manner in which this was said left no doubt in the mind of the young man that he had made a mistake, and he tried to pull himself together and said lamely: “how did your illustrious highness learn to speak english so well? why, you even seem to ? , have learned our idioms." "i have not lain in that museum so long for 180 the sociable ghost. a nothing, and all day and everyday there are men and women sitting around and snooping into things that do not concern them in the least. i cannot help hearing them, and their english is more remarkable for force than elegance, as you doubtless know. now, in my time there was no difference between the language of the people and the slaves. we had a shorter vocabulary, and its very simplicity has made it possible for those who like to study into these things to read it. “we were satisfied with what we had, but it seems to me that you are always seeking after new expressions, and i must say that i think our way was best. yet, i find myself contaminated by the ungrammatical conversation of the throngs who frequent the place where i must stay. but unpleasant as that is, it is as nothing beside the conversation of the people who think they know it all, and their ignorance about things only six or seven thousand years ago is awful. to hear them flounder along and try to learn from what they see is bad enough, but nothing beside hearing those who think they know it all try to enlighten others. we can excuse one who is really ignorant and makes no secret of it, but the glib fellows who go on and talk of dynasties and pharaohs—why they don't know the difference between a pharaoh and a sardanapalous. and, the sociable ghost. 181 they, like everybody else, think that cleopatra was the only queen in egypt, and she was, as i said, so painfully modern. it is now too late to talk much and so i will say good-bye until next year. and do not forget that my mummy case is in the main aisle, near the archway leading to the second room. you cannot miss it, besides i will be there waiting for you. we can talk at our ease, and i do hope that some way can be devised by which i can be taken back to egypt. ah, dear egypt, where rain and thunder come not and snow and ice are unknown.” “i will certainly be there if i am alive, andbeshrew mem(this sounded like the sort of thing one ought to say to a princess)-if i don't find some way to get you back to egypt once more.” then bowing to the princess he withdrew to make place for a man who had been standing there some time waiting to approach her. "i wonder what has become of the sociable ghost ?” thought the young man. he looked around, and seeing so many ghosts, and no sign of his friend, he suddenly felt himself grow very uneasy. what if he could not find his way out of this place? but his heart beat a little more regularly as the floor manager shouted loudly: "ladies and gentlemen : we are about to be specially favored by hearing a song composed and 182 the sociable ghost. sung by our friend, capt. he assures us that no one else has ever heard it, as he used to sing it only at night when at sea during storms. i have the honor—captain here the floor manager bowed and retired. the captain proved to be the ghost who had brought the young man down here, and he took his place while the invisible music burst forth with a strong rush of sound that reminded the young man of the winds and waves in a storm at sea. the ghost began in a deep bass voice: "with a hey and a ho for the white sea horses, plunging and tossing on ocean's crest; with á hey and a ho for the warning they give us, the sailor's heart sinks low in his breast. they fight fierce battles there in the water, till the surface is covered white with foam, the waters toss and are churned to lather that touches the edge of heaven's dome. deep in the depths the shadows thicken, as gather the sharks from down below, and high in the heavens the storm clouds hover, as prancing fiercely the white horses go. then in the black darkness we hark to the breakers, dashing upon the bleak rocks their foam, beaten to froth by the white sea horses, and none of the sailors reaches his home." the sociable ghost. 183 a as this song was finished there was a regular salvo of applause, and in more ways than one, for the clapping of the fleshless hands was like the cracking of musketry. the ghost seemed to be pleased by the evident appreciation of his efforts, and sauntered over to the young man who expressed his pleasure so warmly that even an opera singer would have felt satisfied with such approbation and he requested permission to copy down the song, for sung in a grand and sonorous basso it had seemed to be a fine one. when the last few desultory claps of applause at this song had died away the floor manager called out: “take your partners for a quadrille.” in a minute there was such a bustle that the newspaper man could scarcely hear himself think, but soon the sets were formed, and the whole immense place was filled with dancers, all in sets for quadrille. the music changed at the right moment, and the floor manager called out in stentorian tones : "salute your partners.” and they all bowed in the regulation manner. considering the almost universal poverty of wearing apparel, the ghosts danced and made graceful appearance. there was scarcely enough cloth in good condition to have made a dress, but that fact did not seem to 184 the sociable ghost. strike them as worth consideration. the manager cried: “first two forward and back, cross over, balance to your partner, back to your place, all promenade.” continuing he led them through all the mazes of what he called allemand right, allemand left, all sashay, and so on until the whole was finished. all the ghosts appeared to enjoy the free movement of the dance and to them it mattered little if the usual attire for such functions was conspicuous by its absence. the young man thought that as they had ghostly food and drink, furniture and decorations, perhaps they imagined their clothes as well. then he suddenly remembered those tables. it struck him as curious that they had come and disappeared like things in some fairy tale. as he watched the dancers, who were now waltzing, he thought of a curious experience that had happened to him a year ago. he had a ticket to go to albany on the day boat, and he thought it would be a pleasant trip and a rest, for he had been working unusually hard for a fortnight. he had never made this trip and thought he would enjoy the beauties of the scenery, and incidentally. repose his mind. the night before he was to make this trip he the sociable ghost. 185 had a most vivid dream. he thought he was in a primeval forest and saw huge misshapen monsters, great prehistoric creatures, whose bones only now tell of their existence. among them he saw a monstrous elephant covered with hair, and with immense tusks curved like those found among the eternal glaciers in far off lands. there were other strange animals and giants. as he went along he heard in one place swishing like that of silks swirling in the dance, and a soft rhythmic sound, but nothing could he see until he suddenly turned a corner, and there was a room with hundreds of men and women dancing, but they all seemed to him to be dead. he turned to find some one who could explain this strange thing, but no one was near, and when he turned to look at them again they had all disappeared and an enormous gorilla stood in the place where they had been. then he awoke, and attended to his business of getting ready, and at the last moment hurried down to the boat. after the manner of busy men he reached there just as the bell was ringing, and when he went to hand in his ticket, he remembered that he had left it on the bureau, safely folded in a clean handkerchief. he said a word or two in appreciation of the situation, and then said to himself that since he could not go to al186 the sociable ghost. bany he would go to rockaway. he had never been there, though it was so near by. the boat was just ready to start and the price for a round trip ticket but fifty cents. the sail down was uneventful, and as it was a week day and near the close of the season, he found very little to interest him there, so when he came to a museum, such as flourish at places like that, he decided to enter there to while away the time until the boat was ready to sail. as he entered the door, he saw the primeval forest of his dream, and every monster he found in just the same position. he thought he was living in the days long before man had entered into the history of the world. wondering at this dream which had so curiously "come out,” he suddenly found himself at the same place of which he had dreamed, where he had seen the dead folks dancing. he heard the same soft whish of silk, and the same subdued murmer and there were marionettes, hundreds of them all strung on invisible wires, and all dancing around in a mad revel that had something uncanny about it, particularly when taken in with the singular dream as a background. now he was down under trinity church looking at a revel far stranger, and he began to wonder if he were not a medium in spite of what the ghosts told him. he know that the first experithe sociable ghost. 187 see ence was true, and he did not doubt that this one was equally so, and he thought that from now on he would take up the study of the unknowable and make an exhaustive research into all things relafive to ghosts. once before he had had a serious intention of writing a book on the subject of ghosts, authentic ones, but when he tried to get the matter together he found that the nearest he could come to what he wished to find was, that no one person not an avowed spiritualist, would admit having seen a real ghost, but nearly all knew of some one whose aunt or grandmother had heard of some one whose friends had thought they did one. so he gave up that plan, but now he thought he might get notes enough to make book the subject, but then he might be injuring his plans regarding the princess. he compromised with himself by saying that if his plan for her deliverance failed he could then give the necessary time to the book. he regretted that he had not got his kodak along. what a chance it would have been to get that line of ghosts as they marched by, and what would he not have given for a snap shot at that "coon dance.” after the waltz the company broke up into groups and talked or promenaded around in couples, and it was a sight to remember forever to a on a 188 the sociable ghost. see the young lady ghosts as they walked or hung their heads and tried to look conscious at some tender compliment. the ghosts really had something of the semblance of life about them, for though they had no features left, nor eyes, there was some kind of inner light and a radiance which took the place of flesh. it was as though the soul had shed a soft light of its own over the fleshless skull and lent it something of its former appearance, and the thought came to him that perhaps these ghosts only saw the spiritual part of each other and just as he decided that such must be the case, as nothing else would acount for so much that was otherwise unaccountable, there happened something to put all such ideas to flight, for the three ghosts who had looked upon the wine when it was red, seemed to have awakened under the impression that they were being neglected, and started a row, and began hitting out at any one in reach, be it man or woman, and so unexpected was the assault that the skeletons went down in heaps and lay there like so much new mown wheat. the whole thing was so ludicrous that the newspaper man thought he must laugh or die. but he had been schooled not to laugh at the foolishness of others. that training stood him in good stead now, and he did keep his face straight by the sociable ghost. 189 promising himself the luxury of a laugh the next day. this control over his risibilities saved him from disaster when interviewing a great society woman one day. she told him that she could never bear to have any publicity, and really felt that the privacy of her home was sacred to her, and nothing about it ought ever to be put into any paper, while at that very moment he had her letter to his chief in his pocket, asking that a reporter should be sent to write a description of her house, which was one of the finest on fifth avenue. her very virtuous indignation under the circumstances was so refreshing that the young man had found it a great and severe task to control his amusement, and ever since that experience he had been practicing self-control. if there is one thing more than another calculated to afford abundant practice in this line it is being a society reporter. so now he even refrained from clapping his hands when the sociable ghost appeared with a bound, in spite of his sore toe, which the young man noticed was held up rigidly, notwithstanding the activity of the rest of the bony body. he laid the three flat with three well directed blows, and set the beholder to wondering what he could have done had he not been hampered by his troublesome foot. 190 the sociable ghost. > when the three lay flat in a heap, he pushed them over into a corner with his well foot and told them to lie there and not to dare to move again until he gave them leave. one of them had lost one of his legs in the fracas, and began to howl that he was all broken up. he begged some one to pull him out and get his leg for him. the sociable ghost said, as he rubbed his bony hands together: “say, oh, i say! this is fine! i have not had so much fun since i died. it brings back old times, and for one ineffable moment i thought i was back on my ship again and lighting out with a belaying pin at the mutineers. oh, yes; i had a mutiny to deal with about every six months. it was fun. danger? no, for the captain always holds all the trump cards, and i was always ready to play them. by george, i was! and this brings it all back to me. oh, i say; i must show you something a little out of the usual order. it is my wife's second husband. he is among the ghosts invited here from derby, and i think it was a little cheeky for him to come here, don't you?” "what are you going to do to him?" asked the young man with some natural curiosity. “i am going to do just nothing to him. the poor chap has had troubles of his own with her enough to balance any ill will i might have had. the sociable ghost. 191 now, my wife was, or rather is, for she is not dead yet, the kind of woman that what she wants goes, whether you want it to go or not. i was captain on board my ship, but she was the captain at home, and i was crew and cabin boy.combined. maybe i was a bit breezy toward my men when i got to sea again after a month or so on shore. well; my wife had a portrait of me, and about every half hour she used to hale my successor up before it and tell the poor devil to look at it and see a man and, what one looked like. she dinned my virtues into his ears so much that at last the poor wretch died in self-defense." "and where is the lady now?" asked the young man with interest. "somewhere in boston, i believe. the last i heard of her she was giving my money away to the missionaries. i never had any use for missionaries, dead or alive. they come on board your ship, and the best you have is not too good for them, and they want to hold service every sunday. i know a missionary as soon as i hear him speak. they always say sabbath for sunday, and babe for baby. there's lots of them down here." for once the newspaper man forgot his tact, and said: “i should think that you would have been glad a 192 the sociable ghost. to have them hold service for the sailors. i have heard that they are mostly amenable to religious instruction and guidance." "yah! just stow that. the sailors don't want any of their salvation any more than the chinamen, and it don't do any more good. you can't make a silk purse out of a pig's ear, and sailors are nothing more than living machines when they are on board ship. they are all right aboard ship, but they are no good on land, and whoever wants to do a good turn to a sailor wants to see that he gets a ship as soon as the voyage is done. they need knocking down every day with a marlinspike, and to get a taste of the rope's end every ten minutes, to give them a good appetite so they won't be forever grumbling about their grub.” the captain might have continued indefinitely had not a polka struck up, and all the ghosts begun to dance again. the dance of the marionettes came back to the young man's mind with insistant force, but he tried to hide his amusement. to keep out of the way of the dancers the young man drew back and walked along close to the wall, and as he did so he was suddenly struck by the sight of a man stooping down so that he could eat out of a dish on the buffet without touching it with his hands. it was such a strange the sociable ghost. 193 sight that he could not help making a mental note of it, and he really thought that he had not let the ghost see his curiosity. but it was not so, for the ghost turned and faced him and said sadly: "sir, i hope you will not think that my disgusting action is done through ignorance, nor even a lack of decency. i simply cannot eat any other and i am very hungry. owing to my affliction i could not present myself at the table with the others, and i thought that while all the others are dancing, i could satisfy my hunger without being noticed.” the newspaper man felt that here was another case of misery out of the ordinary, and he asked the ghost to tell him his trouble, and if it was anything that he could be of assistance in he would be glad to do all in his power. the ghost came to his rescue in a most unexpected manner, by suddenly holding up two mutilated stumps of arms. they had evidently been splintered off between the elbows and shoulders. by no effort could the poor fellow have been able to reach his mouth with either stump had he tried. the reporter understood at once and felt so sorry for him that his usually ready tongue refused to form a word. he thought that it was more than probable that this accident had taken place in the revolutionary war, and then he thought that 194 the sociable ghost. that was too far away, and doubtless he must be one of the heroes of the civil war. but the ghost as if answering a question, said: “no, it was not in any war that my arms were smashed like that. if you would be so good as to help me get something to eat, i will tell you about it later. you can cut up some bread and meat and i must eat them right off the dish, and drink the best i can. it is very humiliating but i must bear it." the young man took of the different viands and cut them into convenient pieces and then offered to hand them on a fork. if ghosts could shed tears of gratitude from their hollow eyes this one would surely have wept, so much was he touched by the action. he ate and drank with an excellent appetite, and when he had all that he desired, he said: “now, sir, i am at your disposal. i will tell you why it is that i am reduced to this condition and am obliged to eat like an animal. the story began in life, and it was not until i had been down here two years that this happened. i found an enemy and he it was who made me this pitiable object. the reason? oh, i lived in new york in a handsome house of my own in sixty-fourth street, near the park on the east side. i mention this, as the proximity has something to do the sociable ghost. 195 with the story. that is, the big reservoir is there and that causes a higher pressure of water in the houses there than in almost any other part of the city. i lived there in peace and contentment, and was something of a savant. so you can see that i am not altogether to blame for what follows. you know how all the houses are built, one beside the other. on the west side of my house was that of a man-well-we will call him dinklespiel. that was not his real name—but it is good enough for him after the way he has treated me, yes; i will call him dinklespiel. well; his front door was right beside mine. you could reach into his hall way over the low stone division. the next house on the east side was the whole width of the house away. now, if mr. dinklespiel had lived in that house this would not have occurred, "it so happened that our man who attended to all these things for me was out in the country getting the place in readiness for our annual fitting, and there was no one to clean the sidewalk and we had had coal in the day before. i admit that it would have been better to hire a man as my wife suggested, but somehow i felt like doing it myself, and that is how the trouble began.” here the ghost appeared lost in reflection so the young man asked what would have been better 196 the sociable ghost. left to a hired man. the ghost shook off his distraction and resumed. "why, i got the garden hose-well-i got the hose and washed down the sidewalk. i told you about the high pressure, and that was the cause of it all. i got the hose,—the hose--and dragged it up from the cellar, and told the girl to go down and turn the water on, when i whistled. this hose was bought to protect us from fire as well as to wash the sidewalk and water the grass in the back yard, and it had a nozzle one inch in diameter. it was a big hose, and when james took hold of it i always noticed that his face grew red as though he found it hard to hold. but i always thought that it was his ignorance that made him so afraid of it, and i was sure that i could manage it all right and i even rather prided myself on the showing i should make of the triumph of mind over matter. i had never tried to manage a hose before, and even now i should not, i think, have had any trouble if there had been no hole in the hose. “i drew the hose up into the area way, and then whistled, and the girl turned on the water. why, my dear sir, it nearly jerked me off my feet before i knew what had happened to me, and i held the nozzle straight up with both hands with all my the sociable ghost. 197 strength, and pointed the stream upward so that i could get a little accustomed to it, and at the same time wash down the front of the house. suddenly i heard a strange sound in the dining room where my little boy was looking at me, and saw that i had in some way for which i could not account nearly drowned him. i heard him run screaming up stairs to his mother, and then i thought i would go up the front steps and play on the second story windows, for it was summer and everything was dusty. once i had learned to manipulate the hose, it was a delight. i had partially overcome my fear of it. why, the violent stream rushed out like steam from an overheated boiler. it fairly screamed, the force was so great. well, i played on the windows and then on the whole front of the house, and was enjoying my labor when i became aware that the servant was calling me from the area, and i bent over to hear her, keeping firm hands on the powerful nozzle that was twisting and trying to wriggle out of my hands all the time. just as she opened her mouth -well—somehow she got very wet, and sat down in the middle of the area, and i turned around so that she should not think i was laughing at her miserable plight. anyhow i had done enough up there and i intended to attack the dusty sidewalk, when my wife came to the front door and opened 198 the sociable ghost. it unexpectedly just as i was in the act of turning, and somehow she received the full force of the stream right in the face and she went down like a shot. no one could blame me if in the face of this disaster i forgot and left the squirming hose to work its will and tried to raise her. “she did not wait for me, however, but told me with a withering look to take that thing down cellar at once. i tried to explain, but she shut the door, and i started to obey her, but, sir, you could scarcely believe me, but i had lost control of the thing, and the more i tried to manage it the worse it got, and at last i found that there was a hole in the hose about a foot from the nozzle and that was running in opposition to the nozzle. i was wet to the skin, and the more i tried to get down the steps the worse it wriggled and twisted until i was at my wits' end to know what to do. "at last i seemed to obtain a little command of it and was in the act of turning around to come down when i became conscious that there was a hearse and two carriages drawn up in front of my next neighbor's house, and before i could move the door opened and six men came out bearing a large coffin. i was struck dumb and almost blind, and did not know what i was doing, and-well --before i came to my senses every one of those pall-bearers was wet through, and the force of the the sociable ghost. 199 water threw the flowers in every direction, and as if this were not enough the vicious stream hit the clergyman directly between the eyes and made him fall backward, and that was the reason that a number of people who had gathered to see a funeral at that unusual hour laughed. i was actually paralyzed with the whole thing and stood there helpless, trying to hold up the nozzle, not knowing that it was pouring floods into the vestibule of the dead man's house. finally some one came up the steps and took the wretched thing away from me, and dragged it down to the area, and i scarcely knew enough to go after it. "i have often thought that scientific men are not quite so well adapted to cope with the small things of daily life as those more in touch with mundane affairs. i was so distressed at my complete failure to master so simple a thing as a hose, and above all at the terrible disaster which had befallen me in the involuntary disrespect to my neighbor, that i was like a man dead. "he had been away and died and was brought home for burial, and that was why the funeral was private and so early, for he was to be taken quite a distance for interment. "so you can conceive of my distress, particularly as my wife did not feel willing to console me. on the contrary, she said quite a number of things 200 the sociable ghost. which i am sure she would have left unsaid had she reflected. and i had to get her a new frock and one for the servant. after a while the neighborg stopped asking me impertinent things about my garden hose, and i was beginning to feel a little better about it when i fell ill and died. "my funeral was marked by decorum, and everything passed off well. i was not sorry to come here for i had studied a little of everything else, and this being the unknowable held certain charms for me. i am of a philosophic nature, and very adaptable, and soon became quite content here, for if there are some drawbacks, there are some compensations too." “what are they?” asked the reporter hastily, and not remembering that he was departing from his usual custom. "well, the greatest is-speaking generally, you know-that you can do no more wrong, and that you must progress, for nothing in nature can retrograde. we feel that we may advance in the scale of the great plan, and that our powers of evil are nul, so we can hope. we do not know what we can hope for, but we are not hindered from hoping that there is something to hope for. but, the old desires, old frailties die hard and slow. but, all that is not the story of my misery. . i came down here, and for a long time had no the sociable ghost. 201 special trouble, and met in convention twice. i tried to study out all i saw, until one night i saw my neighbor whose funeral i had so unintentionally desecrated. he had been removed to another cemetery nearer and so was here as a guest. “as soon as he saw me he acted as if he had been suddenly restored to all the vigor of life, and its animosity, for he followed me around all the evening until he found me in a corner studying the sculpture on one of the pillars. he knocked me down and jumped on me and kicked me until it is a wonder how i have a whole bone left. i could have tied any other bones on, but how could i tie without hands? i am sure that if he had given me the opportunity to explain how this unhappy affair had come about he would feel sorry that he was so rough. but he wouldn't listen and so he will never know." “yes, he will,” said a voice right behind them, and as the reporter and the armless ghost turned together they saw another ghost, and he continued his unexpected conversation. "i have heard your story, sir; and regret that i was so violent. i was exasperated beyond measure, as i was always a great stickler for strict decorum, and i was not to blame if i thought you did that on purpose." the armless ghost was so affected that he would 202 the sociable ghost. have fallen had not the other put his arms around him, and the chances for a complete reconciliation were so good that the reporter felt himself de trop and silently slipped away. chapter viii. the grand ball, convention and end of it all. after the young man left the reunited friends he strolled along a little, and saw a man whom he had noticed two or three times on account of his height and the gloomy bend of his head. he stood with his arms crossed moodily over his breast and the reporter thought that perhaps there was some new phrase of misery indicated in this morose and gloomy attitude. the newspaper man edged along near him and bowing, said: "this is a very pleasant reunion, is it not ?" "this is your first visit here, is it not ?" answered the ghost somewhat irrelevantly. "it is,” replied he, thinking at the same time that it should be his last. “i suppose you are greatly amused,” said the ghost, who, the young man now noticed, was lame and limped painfully as he moved around to keep out of the way of the dancers, 203 204 the sociable ghost. "well, not exactly amused,” answered the young man doubtfully. “we will say entertained, then,” said the lame ghost. “you may have noticed that i do not dance, nor can i walk about like others. i do not think i would make a good figure. i have a misfit leg." “i–1-beg your pardon,” stammered the young man confused between curiosity and the fear of wounding the sensibilities of the ghost. "just so," resumed the ghost. "a misfit leg indeed i think it belongs to that young lady over there. but, as i see that she is provided with another, and i can manage to walk with this, i do not like to mortify her by mentioning it. you must admit that it would be very unpleasant for the young lady in company, now wouldn't it?" “would it be considered rude of me to ask how so deplorable an accident occurred ?" asked the reporter with much interest. "certainly not," replied the ghost with a chesterfieldian bow. "it was just this way. i ι was a van der dam, and i have been dead a long time. first i was buried in a little graveyard away down town, and all the dead were moved from there to make place for the leather trade warehouses, and we were taken to another the sociable ghost. 205 cemetery that was so far from the business section that we thought we were to stay there forever. but, in a few years we had to get up and go on again. in a short time that land was wanted for building purposes, and i was removed again to another place so far out that it was thought no one would ever require that land, i am sure you have seen that place, for it was where the old and well-liked metropolitan hotel was afterwards built. and just to think! the trustees of trinity corporation once had the offer of a gift of six acres of land on the corner of canal street and broadway, and refused it, thinking the expense of fencing it too great, and that it was so far from the city that it would cost more for taxes than it was worth. what those six acres are worth now must mount up to miltions. “it was swampy, and we were not so very comfortable in this place, and we were not sorry when the order came to move us so they could build the hotel, which is but a memory now, with a big business house in its place. many of my friends lie in unsuspected spots about that neighborhood yet. "when the foundation for the hotel was dug many of us were discovered, and they took the banes and threw them into a cart in one big box, 206 the sociable ghost. and held an inquest over the lot, and carted them away, and i do not know where they put them. i was moved from there to another place right in the heart of the retail dry goods district. we were put in a protestant cemetery and right opposite was an old jewish graveyard. no money consideration had ever been powerful enough to get this spot, nor any other jewish cemetery, for business. stores have been built up all around it. a friend of mine lies right under a water butt, for our graves were crowded as much as possible. that is a very unpleasant location. you must admit that." the newspaper man did admit it, and condoled with the ghost, who kept his head bent always in sign of hopeless sorrow. he continued: "when the march of progress reached as high as this place we had to get up again and go further so that a street could be cut through. a half brother of mine lost his head during the confusion resulting from this removal, and has never found it after that exodus. i suppose that head and the other fellow's body must have got together somehow, for my half brother found a head, but it does not fit, and the mental calibre cannot compare with that of my half brother." "i should like to know, if it pleases you to tell the sociable ghost. 207 me, which portion of a person's anatomy is the seat of the spirit or soul, or whatever you say when you wish to designate the human intelligence, and the spirit as i see it here to-night? i can scarcely formulate my meaning, but it seems to me that it is all that part of you that i see here to-night, and that seems to have all the intelligence of your living selves. some of you appear to have all your faculties, can eat and drink and show a certain degree of physical force, and i cannot understand anything about it. now, you mentioned the misfortune of your brother, and i am at a loss to know which is the most of him, his head that another wears, or the body which bears a head not his own. which, in short, is your brother? the head without his body or. his body without a head?” “my dear sir, you raise a serious question there, and one very difficult to answer. all i can say is that i think my brother must be leading what you call a double life. his body acts as it always did, but there is a total lack of sequence in his conversation. i fairly hate to hear him speak. he is always declaring that the world is coming to an end. now, what does he or any one know about the end of the world, when we do not know anything of the beginning of it, not even the scientists." > 208 the sociable ghost. "the bible says—" began the young man. "yes; and science says-life is too short to go into those questions, and we might better talk of the present.” the young man took the hint and said: "you were speaking of your several removals." “yes, and in each one i suffered, but it was after my removal from this last-mentioned place that the worst of my misfortunes befell me. we were moved to another burying ground about two miles further out of town. we were all beginning to feel at home and quite sociable, when it became necessary to grade the place and cut streets through. they cut the street through and left my coffin sticking out about two feet, and alas! i have never had two feet to stick out since. "you see, my coffin was over a hundred years old, and it all crumbled away, and that is how i lost my foot. it was as solid and handsome a leg as you would wish to see, but the rascal who moved us broke up our coffins, and threw me into a dirty cart with a score of fellow sufferers, and were dumped into one hole, all in a heap. somehow in the transportation my fine leg was lost, from the knee downward, and as if this was not enough, as i was the last one i the sociable ghost. 209 had to take this and do the best i can with it. and, there sits the young lady, who, i am sure, has my leg, and this is probably hers, as i am sure that this is a woman's leg, it is so very small.” the newspaper man thought just as the ghost did, for not for worlds would he have dared to disagree with one of the ghosts down here in the bowels of the world. the ghost continued : "it is impossible to portray the mental agony which one of my size and build experiences as he is obliged to go limping along in disgraceful manner, and i assure you that my everlasting gratitude would be given to the person who could relieve me of this hideous deformity." "why do you not go to the young lady and ask her frankly if she has not got a leg that does not belong to her? if so, she would doubtless be glad to make the exchange, and perhaps you will never have the opportunity again. you would know if it is really your leg, would you not? if her leg is too small for you your leg must be much too large for her, and she would appreciate the exchange.” “young sir, i do not know how a young lady of the present day would take such a thing, but i assure you i would rather go through all 210 the sociable ghost. i > eternity lame than to so sully the purity of a young girl's mind as to say leg to her. no, no; i must bear it as best i can.” “oh, i say! what is the matter with my going to speak to her and see what she says? i will try to get the leg for you to try on, and if it is yours you can give me hers, and i am sure she will be as glad as you. i see she taps her own foot to the music, and i do not doubt that she is as anxious to dance as can be, and she cannot on account of this misfortune." "if it could be so arranged that she would not know who it was that asked the change, i would be willing for you to try. that is, on condition that you will be as delicate as you possibly can, and we have not much time to work in for as soon as those who like to dance have enjoyed that pleasure we are to hold a short convention, and after that we go outside. but, it would be a . great comfort." the young man sauntered toward the young lady and noticed that she tried to hide the long leg and big foot behind her chair, and he felt emboldened, and addressed her: "fair lady, i beg your pardon in advance for what i am about to say, and i beg you to believe that i mean no disrespect, but as time presses the sociable ghost. 21! > and there are a few more dances on the programme, i must tell you the story of another's misfortune, so that you may understand the case." then he hastily told her the whole story of the lost leg, and by watching her intently he felt sure that he was right, and finally he asked: “what would you suggest in order that those misplaced members might be restored to their rightful owners?” "oh, sir, it is a terrible thing, and i really do not know what should be done, other than that you should take the one i have and turn your back and take it from behind you, and carry it so, covered with your coat, and bring back mine in the same way, and manage so that no one shall see the transfer.” “young lady, you are as sensible as you are lovely, and it shall be done as you say.” saying that the young man threw off his coat and in a moment more had lifted it with something in it and made his way to the ghost in the corner waiting for him. he lost no time in dropping the offending leg as crabs drop theirs when they like, and tried the other. as he did so he cried joyfully: “my friend, accept the thanks of a man who has nothing else to offer, but please go back to that young lady and when she is settled please 212 the sociable ghost. offer her my thanks and hopes that she has suffered no inconvenience.” “i think it would be the fair thing if you asked her to dance with you since she has been so long deprived on your account.” “i couldn't, i really couldn't! i will wait here until you come back, and i beg you not to be long." the young man hastened away on his important errand, and soon had the satisfaction of knowing that the young lady was very grateful to have her own long lost limb restored. she expressed herself so gracefully that the young man thought what a pity it was that she was dead. on plea of important business he left her, for he was afraid that she would expect him to offer to dance with her, but almost before he reached the ghost who was gleefully stamping his recovered leg, he saw her being led out for a polka. and she showed as keen a gusto as the good-natured ghost had with the pipe and the rest. as soon as the young man returned the ghost who had now become quite cheerful said: “my dear young friend, what a burden you have lifted from my heart! you have restored me my fine leg. what an outrage to permit any one to be so maimed.” the sociable ghost. 213 ور و "had you no friends to protect you against such treatment?” "no, for they are all dead, too, and so could not help me. they all lie in this churchyard, and probably will be left in peace, but if it is in human power to get this land where they lie they like the rest of us will have to make place for the living. the city will want the ground, and then it will be, 'come along old bones, get up and travel. we need that ground to build on, and the dead have no rights beside the living.' "it is a great wrong," said a ghost who up to now had not joined in the conversation. “i will tell you a little of my experience, and that will show how little we weigh in the balance with dollars. in early days i lived in what was then the nucleus of oakland, cal. i had a little sister, and she died and was buried in the first cemetery laid out in that place. it was beautifully located on the banks of the estuary leading to merrit's lake, and under the great and evergreen old oaks, and there we left her to sleep. scarcely a year had passed when a rich man came and the only place in all that county to please him was that little graveyard. he managed to get it for a residence, and all our dead had to be moved. another place was chosen at the head of the lake, and they were all put there. i had married, a 214 the sociable ghost. and when my sister was removed my first-born was laid there too. about ten years later that place had grown too valuable to be given to the dead, and our dead were carried off to the foot hills, and now i am told that the time is not far distant when they will be taken on to the eternal sierras. now, my mother and father and other members of my family all lie there, but there is no one left to see that they are moved in a proper manner. i wish with all my heart we had all been cremated. we should all have been just haunts and not been obliged to drag old bones around, and run the risk of getting them scattered from dan to beersheba." "i don't mind my bones at all,” said the gloomy ghost who was now quite chipper, and he braced up and threw out his chest and smoothed his chin and looked grand-as grand as the nature of the circumstances would permit. "i used to be called a fine figure of a man." the young man hastened to say that anybody with half an eye could see that he was still, for no one else took the slightest notice of him, and the young reporter was anxious to maintain the friendliest relations with all the ghosts. then the ghost whose peace of mind he had been instrumental in saving, walked along with a stately stride in front of the young lady whose small the sociable ghost. 215 foot had caused him so much anguish of mind. she had finished her dance by this time and had been sitting still. by some occult wave of sympathy she sent a sentiment of gratefulness to him, and in next to no time they were talking like old friends, but the painful subject of the exchange of bones was carefully ignored. the ghost who had spoken in favor of cremation sat down beside the young man and seemed to wish to enter into conversation, and as the good-natured ghost had gone off again and was talking at a lively rate with some men who all had a sort of air about them which signalled them as seafaring men, he thought it best to let the ghost talk. to that end he listened intently. he continued his complaint: “there are many more old and almost forgotten graveyards in this city, just as there are in every place of any age at all, and as there are still some relatives left alive they fight against allowing the places to be sold, but time flies, and some day these men will be dead too, and there will remain no one to defend them and the old bones will be carted off, and the worst is that we do get so mixed in these removals. see that man over there? he belongs to st. paul's. i think this and that place will probably be kept inviolate, but who knows? but they are both so 216 the sociable ghost. awfully crowded, and they kick like anything about letting any one be buried in either place now, and in fact no one can be buried there unless the family owns a vault. “now, i suppose that the families all think it is a great thing to have a vault, and go down a step ladder every time they want to pray and weep over their dead, but i tell you it matters little where we lie if we can only be left in peace. if we could all be cremated it would be better for all concerned, but the ashes should be scattered to the four winds, for, my young friend, time works many changes, and the needs of the living are greater than those of the dead. right here in the vaults of st. paul's that man over there in some changing about of bodies, lost one of his legs, and another was chucked into his coffin, so if you will notice, he has two right legs, and consequently the other man must have the two left ones. the reporter did not exactly know how to take this, and looked at the bony face for something to show whether this was meant as a pun, or in simple earnest, but there was nothing to show that this was the melancholy remains of some humorist who had passed onward, so he said: "our lame friend said something about haunts. i did not quite understand it. i rather infer that the sociable ghost. 217 they are something ethereal, having no bodiesor-bones,” he added hesitatingly. “haunts, sir; just haunts. invisible unrealities. there is nothing to them, and they just hover around. you may have heard of what some men say who are trying to show you that there is an odic force loose in the air, and they wish to prove that disembodied spirits can make use of this force to render themselves visible to experts." "meaning mediums?” questioned the young man hastily in his desire to have that question solved to his entire satisfaction, for he had a strong leaning to the belief in the occult powers of one medium in particular who had told him something he thought no one knew but himself. “my dear boy, if anybody has told you that mediums or anyone else can materialize a spirit, that person is seeking to deceive you—possibly himself also. how is it possible to make something out of nothing ? unless it is that they make money out of the deception they practice? when i see the swindling wretches trying to make a fortune out of the grief of one who has lost a dear one, and who naturally turns to anything that promises to renew the tie that death has severed, i feel that i would willingly sacrifice all 218 the sociable ghost. that i have gained toward my final release to proclaim the truth. no, friend, there is no means of communication between the living and the dead. i would there were !" "here to-night i have heard that the spirit can leave the body and go floating around. i see you here now, and suppose it means just the body as it is—as yours all are. will you tell me how it is done." "we can for a time drop off all material parts of ourselves, and then there is but the spiritual part and that is invisible, and can go anywhere by a thought. i might explain by asking if you ever saw a flock of winged ants settle down on the ground and lift off their wings and leave them there. when i want to leave my body, or what is left of it, i just give a lift and somehow i then leave the body behind and soar away. soar after all is not the word to use, for the movement is more like a flash, and the movement is swift as thought, and nothing is so swift as that, not even lightning." “oh, tell me one other thing. is there any truth in the theory that animals have souls, and live again after they have died ? i loved a dog, and he was so faithful, so loving and above all, so intelligent that i have often wondered what became of my dog after he died. he was born the sociable ghost. 219 > as we are and died as we do, and in life he showed all the best qualities, such as honor, devotion, truthfulness and fidelity, and i could somehow never feel reconciled to think that a creature so good and so noble could be lost forever. tell me, shall i ever see my dog again?" “rest assured that nothing good and true is ever lost to those who loved it because of its truth and goodness. i shall expect to find my own dog, and i am sure that dogs would not have to wait for their passports as we do, for they are not filled with evil of every kind on earth, and besides their suffering when in life must count for something." at this moment there was a grand fanfare of trumpets, and the master of ceremonies stood on a chair and said in a loud voice: "all present are invited to be seated as the convention is about to open.” the young newspaper man noticed all at once that while he had been talking with the man whose words about dogs had filled his heart with comfort, for he had loved that dog profoundly, and felt a great void left in his life when that of his dog went out-there had been a great change made in the room. the whole great hall had been fitted up with chairs and there was a platform. in front of the platform were chairs a 220 the sociable ghost. a arranged for special guests, but it was but too evident that no provision had been made for reporters. this rather surprised him, and he asked the man next him how it was that the press was not represented. the man looked at him a moment as we regard those that ask fool questions, and then he seemed to relent and answered: “sir, there are no newspaper men in this place, the master who knows all things knows their sufferings on earth, and it must be that they get their passports right away, for there are none here. i had a chance to become a newspaper man, to get into newspaper work, but my family thought law more respectable, so here i am and may stay ten million years yet. oh, yes, it is understood that we must remain here until the master sees that we are sufficiently purified from earthly dross to enter into a higher sphere, where the most of our earthly sins and sorrows are forgotten. we are allowed to forget as fast as we have earned forgiveness. but, as i said, there are no reporters here but you, and it is understood that you are not to waste your time in writing out a report. nobody would believe it if you did. gee! i wonder what the editor of the paper up the street would say if you handed in your report of what you have seen to-night?" the sociable ghost. 221 the young man gave a short hysterical laugh as he replied: "he would say, 'go to the cashier and get what is coming to you. we publish nothing but > facts.'" two or three of the ghosts who had heard this began to laugh derisively, and one or two made remarks not altogether to the credit of the editor's perspicacity, and there would doubtless have been more discussion had not the master of ceremonies rapped sharply for order, and said: "all present are invited to take part in this convention which has been convened for the purpose of endeavoring to right several wrongs and to elect a master of ceremonies for next year. i think i am entitled to some repose. in fact i could not be induced to serve another year in this capacity.” "i wonder if anyone asked him to?” whispered one ghost to another. the reporter looked around to see the speaker, forgetting that he would not know anyhow. his surprise was great to observe that all the women ghosts were seated in a gallery that he had not noticed before. the women were talking with animation among themselves and paid scant attention to the proceedings below. they grew so animated once or twice talking of the fashions which women 222 the sociable ghost. still of the world were wearing, and telling of the clothes they used to have that they had to be called to order twice. the master of ceremonies rapped for order, and said: "i move that mr. alexander hamilton be invited to act as chairman for this meeting.” the bishop immediately stood up, saying angrily: "i object! mr. hamilton has been chairman often enough. i move that some one else has a chance this generation. besides we want new blood, new ideas." “that lets you out, then," said a ghost down the aisle. the bishop was too angry to answer, and sat down indignantly. another ghost said: "what is the matter with the general? i see our fighting general here, and i should like to remark that mr. hamilton is not the only peach upon the bough. if the general is too modest i move that the chairman should be some one who has suffered by the wrongs we are trying to have righted. mr. hamilton is sure that he will never be removed from here, or if he is it will be with befitting ceremonies, and he cannot be expected to feel as do those who have been moved around until they have no fixed abode, and in consequence are called tramp ghosts. of course the general the sociable ghost. 223 will always be honored in death as he was in life, still i think he ought to be our chairman." all eyes, or rather, heads were turned toward a medium-sized ghost who stood up, and it was easy to recognize the military bearing as he replied: “gentlemen” (for the whole audience had applauded his name), "i am proud to know that you like me well enough to choose me, but i am not used to this kind of fighting. anything else that i can do i shall be pleased to do.” saying this he sat down and so decided was his movement that no one thought of asking him to reconsider. everybody cheered him except the women, who were vexed that they had been obliged to go upstairs. the master of ceremonies grew desperate and said: “we will ask mr. van der dam to preside, with the approbation of the company.' the company for the most part appeared satisfied, though one or two said something about not liking to have a tramp ghost put above them. he took his place modestly and began : “friends and fellow citizens; i am here before ; you to see if some way cannot be devised to let the people above ground know our wrongs, and ask them to fix it so that every cementery shall 2 24 the sociable ghost. be made enduring and that no matter what are the demands of grasping people, these places shall be kept inviolate, and devoted sacredly to their purpose, or, if that cannot be done, then let us all be cremated, not only those who may die, but also those who lie in places that may become necessary to the living. what i mean is that when any old cemetery is to be moved, let them cremate the bones instead of throwing them into some filthy old cart all in a heap. we have all known what one can suffer under this sort of treatment. it is time that it was stopped. of what use is all our boasted civilization if the dead are obliged to wander around without coffins ? yes, and half of them without more than half their bones. no one seems to care if they get mixed up and lost, or what becomes of them. something ought to be done. i have no more to . saying that he took his seat, and all the ghosts applauded him, though one or two exchanged opinions in whispers, saying that though what he had said was true it wasn't practical. another ghost had just risen to his feet and opened his jaws—all the ghosts just wagged their jaws when they spoke-and said fellow-when there was a sound of a silvery bell in the distance, yet its tones vibrated sweetly through this vast place, say." the sociable ghost. 225 in an instant all was changed. the seats were gone, and no vestige of them remained. all the ghosts had changed too, and instead of being gay and festive, they looked sad and downcast, and their heads were bent and their whole air was one of intense dejection. the young man asked one of the ghosts what the matter was, and he replied simply "penance," and fell into line as if to go somewhere. the heart of the intrepid reporter sank into his boots as he looked around for the ghost who had invited him down here and failed to see him anywhere. finally, just as he had lost all hope he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and turned to see who it was, and there he stood, grinning. "did you think i had deserted you? well, you need not have been alarmed, for there is one thing ghosts don't do, however much they may have deviated in life, and that is, they tell the truth. and i told you i would come in time. “we are now going outside, and you shall see how some of us have to work to get our passports, and it may be a lesson for your future guidance. and, yes, i have thought out how you may arrange about the rum. it will be more to your interest to go up to the museum, and i never was one to interfere with an appointment with a lady, so go up there by all means, but if you can and > 226 the sociable ghost. will, why you can stop and just tuck the bottle and tobacco and pipe under the stone where i sat when we first made each other's acquaintance. i have heard that there are now to be obtained waterproof matches, and if that is so i would suggest them, for think what a disappointment it would be not to be able to light the pipe after all! i shall think about it the whole year, and i do not know how i could bear such a terrible disappointment.” the young man felt a glow of shame to think that he had thought more of his own benefit than of his promise, and as he thought the good-natured ghost said: “my dear boy, do not worry over that. you did quite right, and if you can help that poor princess you will be doing a meritorious action. she may be, and probably is able to do all she asserts. i am sorry that i do not know where there is any treasure, but i will look around and make inquiries, and if you have time to see me at our next anniversary just for a moment i shall be only too glad to tell you." "i wish to see you again, not only on the next, but also all other anniversaries, as long as it shall be possible, but i have learned too much since i came down here to-night to ever care for money again save for what good i can do with it. one > the sociable ghost. 227 thing i have had in my mind for a good while, a desire born of things i have seen in and around newspaper offices and among other publishers. there is no room for old writers. the cry is always for new thoughts, fresh ideas and the finish and depth of thought which the elderly writers bring are nothing beside the sensational work of the young man. i have thought sometimes when i saw the reporters rushing off copy, under high pressure only intent on getting something so sensational that it would make even the managing editor hold his breath, that that is not the kind of thing that ought to be written. the older men would hesitate to father such stuff, and because they have culture and conscience enough to do better and more worthy work no one will buy it. what i would like to do is to found a weekly paper where every contributor should be at least sixty years old. it might be considered slow by those accustomed to the sensational journals of to-day, but it would be good mental food, and it would also give the old men a chance to live.” "in that way we might learn from the wisdom of age, in your paper, and be cheered by the sallies of youth in the others. is that it?" “exactly. but i see no chance of being able 228 the sociable ghost. to do this, unless something now entirely unexpected happens.” “i will try and see if i can't manage to interest some of the ghosts down here and we can possibly find the means to help you, for while we naturally are obliged to leave all wealth behind us, we may be able to locate hidden treasure for you or at least a mine." "i may never be able to carry out my plan, but this i can promise you, that if i ever see a body about to be moved i will try to see that it is comfortably fixed. and, i think i shall always be a little more careful what i do, and if you will allow me to say it, i shall always feel grateful to you for bringing me down here tonight. as long as i shall live and am able i shall make it a point to come here every anniversary of this night, bringing with me such creature comforts as i think may prove acceptable." "you said that before, but i thank you again," replied the ghost, at the same time taking his hand and shaking it with a feryor not to be expected in one so long dead, and in the world of spirits. by this time the assembly had begun to pass out of the underground place, and many of the the sociable ghost. 229 ghosts--in fact all of the invited guests and tramp ghosts faded away, and the young man rubbed his eyes to see where they had gone. all that he could determine was that they had been there and were gone. they stood in the graveyard again, and the tramp ghost of mr. van der dam, the man whose leg the reporter had been the means of restoring, bid him a sorrowful good-bye. he shook his hand until the young man wished in his heart that the ghost were a little less demonstrative. he wished him the best of good fortunes, and saying that disappeared so suddenly and completely that it made him dizzy. he now became aware of a subdued murmur that passed all over the place. the sociable ghost stood near him by the side of the stone from under which he had exuded, so to speak, earlier in the night. he suddenly dropped to his knees, regardless of the pebbles which might have hurt the fleshless bones, and began rubbing the stone actively, while there were sounds of moaning and sobbing heard all over the place, and in the semidarkness the young man saw forms crouching down by the different headstones. there was a sound like scouring and scraping, and then bright, livid lines of light quivered and trembled along the different tombstones in the 230 the sociable ghost. form of words. at last the young man could not control his curiosity any longer and asked the ghost to tell him what it all meant. “why just this. we have to come out of our graves every year and read our own epitaphs. then we have to write what we deserved in truth. i assure you it is not a pleasant task, and we all wish that our sorrowing friends would only be so very kind as not to put anything but our names upon the stones. "nobody cares anyhow what is on another's gravestone, and if any stop to read it it is simply to make fun of it. to read our own epitaphs and know how little we merit the extravagant praise there is one of our sharpest pangs. when we have shown a proper degree of shame and remorse over them, then we are allowed a short time in which we can endeavor to efface the lying records. we are given the privilege of scouring them with sandpaper and holystone. we hopa that when the undeserved epitaph is all worn away we may be given our passports. “i suppose you have noticed how much sooner a gravestone wears away than a building stone ? now, here is a granite monument, and down there, across the street, is a building with the whole front of the same stone, quarried in the same year, some of it the same week. the house the sociable ghost. 231 > is as good as ever, but look at the stone in the monument. that tells the story. “see that woman down there trying to rub out the lies that her family put there. i wonder i why it is that the survivors seem to feel constrained to put all that stuff on the headstone?" "i was just wondering," said the young man, "how it would be if any ghost should outlive his or her stone. i heard there was a great fire here once that destroyed many of them. and i know of a baker who took three or four stones from a cemetery to bake his bread on. the names were smoothed off, and i cannot exactly understand how it all is. is it that the dead are held for the sins of their survivors in putting all the false, if fond, words there?" “no, not at all. if it were not this it would be something else.” all this time the ghost was rubbing away at his own headstone with greater vigor than one could have expected, and as the young man looked at it the ghost said: "pretty tough work, but i have succeeded in rubbing out nearly half this letter in only sixty years. this word is ‘charitable,' and i never gave a cent to anybody in charity. i told you i would explain. well, here is my epitaph, 'in memory of captain , a pious and benevolent > 232 the sociable ghost. man, whose noble and upright character, calm demeanor and charitable heart endeared him to all who knew him. he passed away, leaving a sorrowing spouse to whom he was devoted, in the surety of a life above. he was captain of the and engaged in the liverpool and west india trade. this is a pretty mess to fix up over your head, now isn't it? piety and the west india trade didn't go together in those days. calm demeanor! huh! they called me 'old hurricane.' and i was worse than a pirate, for i was in the slave trade. it is all over now, and the evil i did can't be undone, but though it may seem long, there will come a time when i-even ishall have become fit for my passport. “but let me tell you, young man, and try and remember what i say, if the living only knew what the dead do there would be a deuced sight less wickedness in the world. you know that the preachers have always told us that no matter what we had done of evil, we would be sure of complete pardon and forgiveness for it all, even murder, if we only could say that we accepted and believed what they told us. so many just went on and played merry hand at the last minute sent for a sky pilot and repented, and were assured by the clergy that they were saved and sure of heaven, the sociabll ghost. 233 “now, young man, don't you take any stock in that at all. don't forget for one minute that when you do a thing that your inner self feels to be strong, you are going to pay for it, and you won't pay the debt in counterfeit coin, either. if people only knew enough to understand that that very inner sense of what is right and wrong which we call conscience is the law we should follow closer than the laws made by men, they would be coming nearer to obeying the commands of the master than they do. unhappily we do not know that until it is too late, but the master knows our motives, our ignorance, the pressure of outside influence, temptation and environment, and it is safe to trust to him, for knowing all and being our creator he knows and pities our weaknesses, and compassionately gives a chance to-and-s0 -well we can—my dear sir, i can say no more now, for the time is up. good-bye till next year -good-bye.” as the sociable ghost said this a bell began to ring somewhere. at this sound all the ghosts sank out of sight so swiftly that all the young man could remember was that the good-natured ghost had waved his bony hand. the change had taken place so rapidly that the young man sat and rubbed his eyes to see if they were open. as 234 the sociable ghost. the sound of the bell grew louder, night began to fade before the early dawn. the young man looked around and found that he was seated on the very slab where he had been when he had first seen the sociable ghost. he almost convinced himself that he had had a vivid dream. he might have come to believe it fully if he had not found the tobacco paper entirely empty and the matches all burned. and there was not a drop of whiskey left. and as if these facts were not enough, he noticed that it had rained heavily during the night. there were pools and puddles of water in all the depressed places. the trees dripped water, but his clothes were perfectly dry. he was and is still convinced that this was not the baseless fabric of a dream, but the reality. he fully intends to keep his two unsusual appointments next year, to fulfil his promises. one good thing came out of this night's experience, and that is that his heart has ceased aching in that dreadful way about the marriage of the girl he loved. in the light of all he learned it became a chastened sorrow, and he could even think of it as something that had happened years agomany of them and we all know that when a grief reaches that point it is really cured, and try the sociable ghost. 235 but he never found the little cat, nor the dog, and his conscience still twinges whenever he thinks of his wanton cruelty in bestowing that unmerited kick on the dog, and throwing the stone at the cat. the end. . t . 1 + 1 249 l º | | p. 20. 7 c & 2, 4, 2 natuan college libraru eought with nmo ney received fronn | library fines. 2, 3 f-wºº. )* 7 o & 2, 4 º' #arbarb college libraru bought with nmo ney received fronn library fines. 2 3 f-wº — º ºf £0.0 marley." º ºphiladelphia 35 henry. carey barb | cººlas aº q_º · ·，≤） %ſ. |× |×|（7）|ſè---，№ſº： №№-------№%@! -ź ź “there is the nocturnal visitor whom you have so long taken for the ghost of your mother.”—page 18. | c h o s t s t o r j e s. with ii, i.u.strations by dar.i.e.y. ºut." &nºw i/////// | s n s ºs º s n * º s \ º º = s | º | w s n | = sº | | s -5 §§§ º § n | r. º § ſº -“the green mantle, without uttering a word, entered the house.”—page 112. -v" ph | la del ph | a : h. c. ba | r d. 1854. ghost stories; collected with a particular view to co un ter a ct the w u l g a r be lie f ghosts and apparitions. evjſt) oſem engrabings, from design s of f o. c. d.a.r.l.e.y. philadelphia: henry carey baird, (successor to e. l. carey,) no. 7 hart's buildings, sixth street, above chestnut. 1854. *: * / * o "a rº /7. º * / º º \ * . ~ º %. 2tºv vºy entered according to act of congress, in the year 1846, by carey & hart, in the clerk's office of the district court of the eastern district of pennsylvania. -------------------~~~~~~~~~~-------------printed by t. k & p. g. collins introduction . . the cold hand the harvard college ghost , the ghost of larneville . . . • a london ghost contents. . the deserter’s ghost . garrick’s ghost apparition of lord william petty . .the water spirit .the friar's ghost in the imperial palace of vienna .the bear of friedrichshall . • barbito, or the spectre of cuenza . *the danger of tampering with the fear of ghosts »the devil and the prussian grenadier the ghost of count walkenried ...extraordinary confessions of a ghost . the willage apparition . the haunted castle the green mantle of wenice • the ghost of general marceau •the haunted inn … • e pagº 12 . 15 20 23 32 34 • 37 42 48 52 63 70 73 81 88 97 106 183 186 introduction. what is a ghost? in the popular acceptation of the term, it is a visible appearance of a deceased person. it is called also a spirit; but, if visible, it must be matter; consequently not a spirit. if it is not matter, it can only exist in the imagination of the beholder; and must therefore be classed with the multifarious phantoms which haunt the sick man's couch in delirium. but ghosts have appeared to more than one person at a time;—how then 2 can he exist in the imagination of two persons at once 2 that is not probable, and we doubt the “authentic” accounts of ghosts appearing to more than one at a time. the stories we are about to tell will show, however, that in a great many instances several persons have thought that they saw ghosts at the same time, when, in fact, there was no ghost in the case; but substantial flesh and blood and bones. but what does a ghost represent? what is it the ghost of? of a man or woman, to be sure. but does it appear as a man or woman only 2 is it nude oh no! oh shocking! this is contrary to all the rules. it always appears dressed? if the man has been murdered, it appears in the very clothes he was 1* * 5 \，\! №. \ |± ！== |× № “there is the nocturnal visitor whom you have so long taken for the ghost of your mother.”—page 18. c h o s t s t o r e. s. with iſ.l..t"strations by darley. s º s sº “the green mantle, without uttering a word, entered the house.”—page 112. ph | la del ph | a : h. c. ba | r d. 1854. ghost stories; collected with a particular view to co u n t e r a ct t h e w u l g a r be lie f ghosts and apparitions. ecºſtſ clem 15mgrabings, from designs of f o. c. d.a.r.l.e.y. philadelphia: henry carey baird, (successor to e. l. carey,) no. 7 hart's buildings, sixth street, above chestnut. 1854. .*. * * * , , / 2.n. * / \ f * ! * * …” /1/vvzzºv vºy entered according to act of congress, in the year 1846, by carey & hart, in the clerk's office of the district court of the eastern district of pennsylvania. --~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ --~~~~~~~~~~~ *printed by t. k & p. g. collins --~~~~ contents. page introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 the cold hand . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 the harvard college ghost . . . . . . . . . 12 , the ghost of larneville . . . . . . . . . . . 15 a london ghost . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 . the deserter's ghost . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 garrick's ghost . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32. apparition of lord william petty . . . . . . . . 34 .the water spirit . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 .the friar's ghost in the imperial palace of vienna . . 42 .the bear of friedrichshall . . . . . . . . . . 48 • barbito, or the spectre of cuenza . . . . . . . . 52 *the danger of tampering with the fear of ghosts . . 63 •the devil and the prussian grenadier . . . . . . 70 the ghost of count walkenried . . . . . . . . . 73 ...extraordinary confessions of a ghost . . . . . . 81 . the village apparition . . . . . . . . . . . 88 the haunted castle . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 the green mantle of venice . . . . . . . . . 106 • the ghost of general marceau . . . . . . . . 183 •the haunted inn . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 introduction. what is a ghost? in the popular acceptation of the term, it is a visible appearance of a deceased person. it is called also a spirit; but, if visible, it must be matter; consequently not a spirit. if it is not matter, it can only exist in the imagination of the beholder; and must therefore be classed with the multifarious phantoms which haunt the sick man’s couch in delirium. but ghosts have appeared to more than one person at a time;—how then can he exist in the imagination of two persons at once 2 that is not probable, and we doubt the “authentic” accounts of ghosts appearing to more than one at a time. the stories we are about to tell will show, however, that in a great many instances several persons have thought that they saw ghosts at the same time, when, in fact, there was no ghost in the case; but substantial flesh and blood and bones. but what does a ghost represent? what is it the ghost of? of a man or woman, to be sure. but does it appear as a man or woman only 2 is it nude 2 oh no! oh shocking ! this is contrary to all the rules. it always appears dressed? if the man has been murdered, it appears in the very clothes he was 1* * 5 6 introduction. murdered in, all bloody, with a pale, murdered-looking face, and a ghastly wound in the breast, head, stomach, back or abdominal region, as the case may be ; but always in decent clothes. if the person died quietly a natural death, in bed; then the ghost is generally clad in long white robes, or a shroud; but still properly dressed. so then, we have the ghost of the clothes also—the ghost of the coat and unmentionables—the ghost of the cocked hat and wig. how is this? but to cut the matter short—the whole theory of ghosts is too flimsy to bear the rough handling of either reason or ridicule. the best way to dissipate the inbred horror of supernatural phantoms, which almost all persons derive from nursery tales or other sources of causeless terror in early life, is to show by example how possible it is to impress upon ignorant or credulous persons the firm belief that they behold a ghost, when in point of fact no ghost is there. we proceed at once to our stories. ghost stories. the cold hand. an eminent american artist relates the following story of a terrible adventure which befell him during his residence in europe. i was travelling from paris to brussels in the diligence. on my arrival one evening at a little village near dieppe —i forget the name of it—i found the village inn so crowded that the landlord could not even give me a bed upon which i might sleep in the house. he undertook, however, to receive my luggage, and give me a lodging in the neighbourhood; and with this arrangement i was obliged to be satisfied. after having partaken of a comfortable supper, i was waited upon by a servant with a lantern, who was to conduct me to the house where i was destined by my evil stars to pass the night. it was a lone house, of two stories, and quite small, situated on a wide heath, some half a mile distant from the inn. there were but three rooms on a floor; and on knocking at the door, i was admitted 7 8 ghost stories. by a melancholy-looking young woman, whose dress and appearance bespoke poverty, although she was neat and tidy. on being conducted into the apartment which served as a kitchen, i found no one there. it appeared that the house was inhabited only by this young woman. seeing in my countenance a look of wonder and inquiry, she merely remarked, that she was often in the habit of receiving lodgers from the inn when it was full, and that she would endeavour to afford me a comfortable room for the night. as it would have been ill-bred to ask any questions after this, i sat looking at the fire for half an hour speculating on the oddity of the thing, when the melancholy damsel went on with her sewing, which she had taken up as soon as i was seated. at last, being quite fatigued with my day's ride, i desired to be shown to my sleeping room. it was of very moderate dimensions, and situated on the ground floor. in fact it was but barely large enough to afford room for a single bed, and a few inches of floor on one side of it where i might undress; and therewas a window opening near the head of the bed. when my hostess had set down the candle, i locked the door, undressed myself, threw my clothes upon the bed, and was soon fast asleep. i suppose i might have slept two hours, so that it was “in the dead waist and middle of night,” when i was suddenly awakened by a cold hand, as it might be the hand of a corpse, drawn deliberately over my face, from the forehead to the chin, and so passing off a space downward towards my feet ! horror-struck, i started bolt upright, and shouted in a tremulous but loud voice, “who’s there 2° no answer. i stretched out my hands, and felt all the three walls of the cold hand. 9 the room near the head of the bed, and found nothing but the said bare walls. i then got upon my knees on the bed, and felt the walls all round the room, as i could easily do, by reason of its exceedingly limited dimensions. i then crept under the bed, and fully satisfied myself that there was no living creature in the room but myself. it was mighty strange i could have sworn that i had felt that awful cold hand passing over my face. the thing was done so coolly and deliberately, that there could be no mistake about it. why did i not grasp the hand? you may say. in fact i was waked out of profound sleep by its touch; and before i had time to seize it, it was gone. i stood wondering at the strange and incomprehensible nature of the thing for some minutes, and finally arrived at the reluctant admission that i must have been dreaming—that it was my imagination—that it was no hand at all, but the ghost of a hand. in a very confused and unsettled state of mind, i at length got into bed again, and, still unrested from my fatigue, i speedily fell into a doze. before i had completely lost my consciousness, however, i felt the same appalling sensation as before—that horrible corpse-like hand dragging itself like the body of a serpent over my face. horror of horrors i screamed out at the utmost pitch of my voice, “who's there ! who, what are you? speak | avaunt begone !” i sprang instantly out of bed, and felt in the darkness all round the room again. there was no one to be found. there was nothing but empty space as before. i was, to use a homely phrase, completely dumb-founded. the former theory of dreams and imaginations would not hold good now. the thing was too real. it was a hand, and nothing but a hand. i could swear to it. it might be 10 ghost stories. and probably was, the hand of a dead man; but it had skin and bones, and muscles and motion; and it had sent, i thought, all the blood in my body, back to my heart, as it passed over my face. it came and went this time more suddenly, so that i had not time to grasp at it, both of my hands being under the bed-clothes. now i am an indifferently well informed person— something of a philosopher, and never had been a believer in ghosts or supernatural appearances of any sort or kind. but this thing staggered me. i could not but think, with hamlet, that “there are many things which are not dreamt of in your philosophy.” where could the owner of the hand be he was not in the room. that was clear. there had not been time enough for him to escape from it, even if the door had not been locked, which it was, very securely, as i had just proved. there was no fire-place. so he could not have crawled up the chimney. there was no closet or hiding-place of any kind. the thing was utterly inexplicable. i could make nothing of it; and in a desperate state of doubt and bewilderment i once more betook myself to bed, and thought and thought about it till my brain ached again; but all to no purpose. fatigue and drowsiness at length overcame me, and i slept till morning without further disturbance. it had been arranged that i should breakfast at the house where i slept. when i sat down, my melancholy hostess inquired how i had slept—hoped i had a comfortable night. “on the contrary,” replied i, “the night was rather an uncomfortable one for me, such as i never desire to pass again.” i then proceeded to narrate the whole affair as it had passed. she listened with fixed attention, only the cold hand, 11 interrupting me with two or three questions. when i had concluded, she said, “it must have been my poor drunken brother. i must tell you, sir,” she continued, “that i have an unfortunate brother, of dissipated habits, who lives with me here, since the death of our parents. he often goes away and stays for weeks together, without my hearing a word of his whereabouts. he probably came home in the middle of the night, and not wishing to disturb me, went to the window of his bed-room which you occupied last night, and thrust in his hand in order to ascertain whether any lodger was occupying his bed. he was probably too much intoxicated to take any notice of your exclamations; and having found his bed occupied, he has gone off and found a lodging with some one of his acquaintance.” whether young hopeful came home in the course of the day i never learned; for in half an hour after this conversation i was on my way to brussels, perfectly satisfied with the melancholy young woman's solution of the dreadful mystery of the cold hand. 12 the harward college ghost. old harvard, in our time, though frequently troubled with spirits, suffered no annoyance whatever with ghosts. science and unbelief had frightened them all away, and the increase of population had left no secluded spot in all. cambridge suitable for a ghost's promenade. still, however, there lingered some old traditions of ghosts, in former times, who had made these classic shades their haunt— ghosts real and fictitious. among those of the latter description, one has still dwelt in our memory from the narrative of the lamented artist, washington allston. the story is in substance as follows: in those reunions which used so often to take place in the students' chambers, for conversation, cigar-smoking, and social enjoyment, the subject of ghosts had been very frequently discussed. some students from the country told long and dreadful stories, well authenticated by their grandmothers and maiden aunts, of real, veritable ghosts appearing in the old fashioned legitimate way, dressed in long white robes and making appalling revelations of crimes and hidden treasures, and then vanishing instantly —going off without beat of drum, and leaving the aston1shed and horrified spectator in the most pitiable state. to these narratives many of the student auditors would “seriously incline,” while others counterfeited belief, in order to induce the narrators to afford them more entertainment of the same sort. in fact, on one occasion, the the harward college ghost. 13 whole coterie, with a single exception, declared their unqualified belief in ghosts. the stories they had just heard were too accurate, circumstantial, and authentic, to be doubted. there was no withstanding the accumulation of evidence. the single dissenter from this opinion, however, stubbornly declared that there must be some mistake. the thing was too absurd in itself to gain his belief. he would never believe in ghosts till he should see one with his own eyes. as for fearing them, “he would like to see the ghost that could frighten him.” one of his fellow students, as far from a real belief in supernatural appearances as himself, resolved, nevertheless, to put the hero's courage to the proof. accordingly on the next evening after that when this remarkable conversation took place, at a very late hour, he dressed himself up in white, and quietly glided into the chamber of his companion, who was lying alone in his bed and wide awake. the ghost-student, knowing that his friend always slept with loaded pistols under his pillow, had previously taken care to draw out the bullets from them; for he was too well acquainted with the impetuous character of the other to doubt that he would use them on such an occasion. on the appearance of the spectre, the hero sat up in bed and very deliberately took a survey of him, as well as the “struggling moonbeam's misty light” shining in at the windows would permit. the ghost glided across the room, and, standing before the bed, raised his hand in an awful and menacing manner, according to the most approved fashion of ghostdom. still the whole performance failed to shake the firm nerves of the harvard ghost-seer. he only laughed, and shouted aloud in melodramatic form of speech, “vanish i fear you not l’’ 2 14 ghost stories. the spectre was motionless, still standing and gazing upon him with ghastly masked face. our hero, at length, determined to put the apparition to the proof, and “teach him never to come there no more,” took one of the pistols from beneath his pillow and fired it point blank in the spectre's face. when the smoke cleared away—there stood the grim figure, as before, immovable and apparently invulnerable. instantaneously the appalling belief came over the mind of the unhappy beholder that he was actually in the presence of a spirit from the other world. all his preconceived opinions—all his habits of thought, all his vaunted courage vanished at once. his whole being was changed; and he instantly fell into the most frightful convulsions. his companion, who had been watching the effect of his experiment, became alarmed in his turn; and called in others from the entry who had participated in the illtimed joke. medical aid was called in, and every appliance resorted to for his recovery. but it was all in vain. convulsion succeeded convulsion; and the unfortunate youth never recovered sufficient consciousness to be made aware of the trick that had been played upon him, until the melancholy scene was closed by his untimely death. this story has its moral. the mind of man is too delicate and complicated a structure to be tampered with by experiments of this description. whatever may be one's opinion of ghosts, it is dangerous to counterfeit any thing of this kind for the purpose of producing terror in the mind of another. 15 the ghost of larnewille. madame deshoulikres, the french poetess, was much admired by her countrymen; yet, except her pastorals, the subjects chosen by her have little interest, and rather evince strength of mind than harmony of verse or delicacy of feeling. indeed, they are what might have been expected from a character endued with the self-possession displayed in the following adventure, in which she conducted herself with an intrepidity and coolness which would have done honour to a hero. madame deshoulières was invited by the count and countess de larneville to pass some time at their château, several leagues from paris. on her arrival, she was freely offered the choice of all the bed-chambers in the mansion except one, which, from the strange noises that had been for some time nocturnally heard within it, was generally believed to be haunted, and as such had been deserted. madame deshoulières was no sooner informed of this circumstance by her friends, than, to their great surprise and terror, she immediately declared her resolution of occupying this dreaded room in preference to any other. the count looked aghast as she disclosed this determination, and in a tremulous voice entreated her to give up so rash an intention; since, however brave curiosity might at present make her, it was more than probable that in her situation she would pay for its gratification with her life. the countess, observing that all that her husband said 16 ghost stories. failed of intimidating the high-spirited madame deshoulieres, now added her persuasions to divert her friend from an enterprise from which the bravest man might shrink appalled. “what have we not to fear, then,” she added, “for a woman on the eve of becoming a mother? let me conjure you, if not for your own sake, for that of your unborn infant, give up your daring plan.” all these arguments, repeated over and over again, were insufficient to shake the determined purpose of the adventurer. her courage rose superior to these representations of the dangers to which she was going to expose herself, because she was convinced that they owed their colouring to superstition acting upon weak minds: she entertained no faith in the “fleshless arm” of a departed spirit, and from an immaterial one her life was safe. her noble host and hostess pleaded, pitied, blamed, but at length yielded to her wish of taking possession of the haunted chamber. madame deshoulières found it grand and spacious—the windows dark from the thickness of the walls—the chimney antique and of a cavernous depth. as soon as madame was undressed, she stepped into bed, ordered a large candle to be placed on a stand near it, and enjoining her femme de chambre to shut the door securely, dismissed her. having provided herself with a book, according to custom, she calmly read her usual time, then sunk to repose; from this she was soon roused by a noise at the door—it opened, and the sound of footsteps succeeded. madame deshoulières immediately decided that this must be the supposed ghost, and therefore addressed it with an assurance that, if it hoped to frighten her from her purpose of detecting the imposture which had created such foolish alarm throughout the castle, it would find itself disappointed in the attempt; the ghost of larneville 17 for she was resolutely bent on discovering and exposing it at all hazards. this threat she reiterated to no purpose, for no answer was returned. at length the intruder came in contact with a large screen, which it overturned so near the bed, that, getting entangled in the curtains, which played loosely on their rings, they returned a sound so sharp, that any one under the influence of fear would have taken it for the shrill scream of an unquiet spirit, but madame was perfectly undismayed, as she afterwards declared. on the contrary, she continued to interrogate the nocturnal visitor, whom she suspected to be one of the domestics; but it still maintained an unbroken silence, though nothing could be less quiet in its movements, for it now ran against the stand on which was placed the heavy candlestick, which fell with a thundering noise. in fine, tired of all these exertions, it came and rested itself against the foot of the bed. madame deshoulières was now more decidedly called upon to evince all that firmness of mind and intrepidity of spirit of which she had boasted; and well did she justify the confidence she had placed in her own courage, for, still retaining her self-possession, she exclaimed, “ah! now i shall ascertain what thou art; ” at the same time she extended both her hands towards the place against which she felt that the intruder was resting. they came in contact with two soft velvety ears, which she firmly grasped, determined to retain them till day should lend its light to discover to whom or to what they belonged. madame found her patience put to some trial, but not her strength, for nothing could be more unresisting and quiet than the owner of the imprisoned ears. day at length released her from the awkward, painful position, in which she had remained for so many hours, 2* 18 ghost stories. and discovered her prisoner to be gros-blanc, a large dog belonging to the château, and as worthy, if fidelity and honesty deserve the title, as any of its inhabitants. far from resenting the bondage in which madame deshoulières had so long kept him, he licked the hands which he believed had been kindly keeping his ears warm all night; while madame deshoulières enjoyed a hearty laugh at this ludicrous end to an adventure, for the encounter of which she had braced her every nerve. in the mean time, the count and countess, wholly given up to their fears, had found it impossible to close their eyes during the night. the trial to which their friend had exposed herself grew more terrible to their imagination the more they dwelt upon it, till they at length persuaded themselves that death would be the inevitable consequence. with these forebodings they proceeded as soon as it was light to the apartment of madame deshoulières—scarcely had they courage to enter it, or to speak when they had done so. from this state of petrifaction they were revived by their friend undrawing her curtains, and paying them the compliments of the morning with a triumphant look. she then related all that had passed with an impressive solemnity, and having roused intense curiosity to know the catastrophe, she smilingly pointed to gros-blanc, as she said to the count, “there is the nocturmal visitor whom you have so long taken for the ghost of your mother;” for such he had concluded it, from having been the last person who had died in the château. the count looked at his wife— then at the dog—and blushed deeply, not knowing whether it were better to laugh or be angry. but madame, who possessed a commanding manner, which at the same time awed and convinced, ended this state of irresothe ghost of larneville. 19 lution by saying—“no, no, monsieur, you shall no longer continue in an illusion which long indulgence has endeared you to. i will complete my task, and emancipate your mind from the shackles of superstition, by proving to you that all which has so long disturbed the peace of your family has arisen from natural causes.” madame arose, made her friends examine the lock of the door, the wood of which was so decayed as to render the locking it useless against a very moderate degree of strength. this facility of entrance had been evidently the cause of gros-blanc, who liked not sleeping out of doors, making choice of this room. “the rest is easily accounted for: gros-blanc smelt, and wished to possess himself of the candle, in attempting which he committed all the blunders, and caused all the noises, which have annoyed me this night; and he would have taken possession of my bed, also, if he had not given me an opportunity of seizing his ears. thus are the most simple events magnified into omens of fearful and supernatural augury.” 20 a london ghost. in the year 1704, a gentleman, to all appearance of large fortune, took furnished lodgings in a house in sohosquare. after he had resided there some weeks with his establishment, he lost his brother, who had lived at hampstead, and who on his death-bed particularly desired to be interred in the family vault in westminster abbey. the gentleman requested his landlord to permit him to bring the corpse of his brother to his lodgings, and to make arrangements there for the funeral. the landlord without hesitation signified his compliance. the body, dressed in a white shroud, was accordingly brought in a very handsome coffin, and placed in the great dining-room. the funeral was to take place the next day, and the lodger and his servants went out to make the necessary preparations for the solemnity. he stayed out late; but this was no uncommon thing. the landlord and his family, conceiving that they had no occasion to wait for him, retired to bed as usual, about twelve o'clock. one maid-servant was left up to let him in, and to boil some water, which he had desired might be ready for making tea on his return. the girl was accordingly sitting all alone in the kitchen, when a tall, spectre-looking figure entered, and clapped itself down in a chair opposite to her. the maid was by no means one of the most timid of her sex; but she was terrified beyond expression, lonely as a london ghost. 21 she was, at this unexpected apparition. uttering a loud scream, she flew out like an arrow at a side door, and hurried to the chamber of her master and mistress. scarcely had she awakened them, and communicated to the whole family some portion of the fright with which she was herself overwhelmed, when the spectre, enveloped in a shroud and with a face of death-like paleness, made its appearance, and sat down in a chair in the bed-room, without their having observed how it entered. the worst of all was, that this chair stood by the door of the bed-chamber, so that not a creature could get away without passing close to the apparition, which rolled its glaring eyes so frightfully, and so hideously distorted its ſeatures, that they could not bear to look at it. the master and mistress crept under the bed-clothes, covered with profuse perspiration, while the maid-servant sunk nearly insensible by the side of the bed. at the same time the whole house seemed to be in an uproar; for though they had covered themselves over head and ears, they could still hear the incessant noise and clatter, which served to increase their terror. at length all became perfectly still in the house. the landlord ventured to raise his head, and to steal a glance at the chair by the door; but behold, the ghost was gone ! sober reason began to resume its power. the poor girl was brought to herself after a good deal of shaking. in a short time, they plucked up sufficient courage to quit the bed-room, and to commence an examination of the house, which they expected to find in great disorder. nor were their anticipations unfounded. the whole house had been stripped by artful thieves, and the gentleman had decamped without paying for his lodging. it turned out that he was no other than an accomplice of the 22 ghost stories. notorious arthur chambers, who was executed at tyburn in 1706; and that the supposed corpse was this archrogue himself, who had whitened his hands and face with chalk, and merely counterfeited death. about midnight he quitted the coffin, and appeared to the maid in the kitchen. when she flew up stairs, he softly followed her, and, seated at the door of the chamber, he acted as a sentinel, so that his industrious accomplices were enabled to plunder the house without the least molestation. the deserter's ghost. experience seems to justify the notion formerly more prevalent than at present, that one who has died a violent death is more likely to return to terrify the living than those who have been gathered in peace to their fathers. the experience of the writer of the following narrative once confirmed this notion in a manner equally convincing and frightful. it is calculated to lower the tone of the obstinate skeptic, who denies the possibility of the re-appearance of deceased persons, and especially such as have been prematurely cut off. it may fare with them as it did with him. their evil genius, to punish them for their unbelief, may lie in ambush for them, and expose their credulity, were it only for a short time. the story of his instructive adventure is as follows:– at the conclusion of the seven years' war, the number of foreigners in the prussian army was very great. many, who were fond of the wild military life in time of war, had no notion of bowing their necks in peaceful garrisons to the yoke of strict subordination. not a few, unmindful of their duty and their oath, sought to escape; and among the french, in particular, desertion was very frequent. it was found necessary to adopt rigorous measures to put a stop to this spreading evil. accordingly, in a certain garrison, a young french musqueteer, named idée, who, impelled by an ardent desire to revisit his native country, had thrice deserted, was 24 ghost stories. sentenced to be hanged. a gibbet was erected for the purpose, near one of the town-gates, not far from which there was a military guard-house. the sentence was executed on the 31st of august, 1764, and the body of idée was then buried without the town, near a spot where the women were accustomed to dry their linen. it was natural to expect that the culprit would pay nocturnal visits to such of the good-wives as kept watch over the linen hung out there to dry. he actually appeared almost every night, and drove the terrified creatures from the place. such as may suppose that this was only some sly thief concealed under the disguise of a spectre, need but be informed, that the washerwomen were never more secure from the depredations of thieves than at this time ; and that, as soon as the morning dawn had scared away the nocturnal visitor, they always found their linen exactly as they had left it. this was half a proof, at least, that the apparition was of supernatural origin. the rumour that idée's ghost walked, was soon spread throughout the whole town, and became the general topic of conversation in every company. the unsupported statements of the washerwomen might have been liable to suspicion; but their veracity was established beyond the possibility of doubt by the declarations of the sentinels, who affirmed that they had seen the malefactor, sometimes in one place, sometimes in another. the unfortunate man had been executed and interred in a white coat bordered with black ribbon, a present from some compassionate females of the town. it was in this attire that he appeared again after his death. the story of this spectre, which spread universal consternation, received daily additions, like a rolling snow-ball. the unhappy wight grew bolder by degrees. about four months the deserter’s ghost. 25 after his execution, he stalked, with a melancholy air, and with a lantern in his hand, before the faces of the sentinels, to the gallows erected for him within the town, and after surveying it intently on all sides, suddenly vanished. this was seen not only by the sentries, but by several other soldiers on guard. the belief in the reality of the ghost now gained strength; for it had appeared not merely to old women, but to warriors whose valour had been proved beyond all doubt in many a battle, and to whom more courage and presence of mind are therefore justly ascribed than to any other class of persons. even those whom a superior education and a mind unfettered by prejudice had hitherto preserved from womanish fears, now felt a thrill of involuntary horror, when chance threw them at night into the way of the resuscitated malefactor. among these last, the narrator classed himself. at that time eighteen years old, he was serving as a common soldier in that garrison, but disbelieved the whole story of the spectre, because he had neither seen this nor any other. though by birth a german, he had from his situation acquired at an early age considerable fluency in the french language, so that he was employed as interpreter during the confinement of idée, who understood not a word of german. he had frequently been on duty as a sentinel with this unfortunate man, and was thoroughly acquainted both with his person and sentiments. he never expected to behold his executed comrade again ; but his incredulity was at last signally punished. we shall continue the narrative in his own words:— on the 7th of january, 1765, i was on duty at the gate, about fifty paces from which stood the gibbet on which idée was hanged. the officer of the watch had a friend with 3 26 ghost stories. him until ten o'clock. when he had retired, i was preparing to lie down on the bench in the soldiers' room to get a nap, when the officer wished me to go with him into his apartment, to bear him company. i was excessively sleepy, and therefore frankly confessed that i was quite unfit for the purpose: but the officer was so urgent, that l could not refuse to take a pipe of excellent tobacco and a glass of good beer with him. over these i soon recovered my usual flow of spirits. “do you know the reason, pressler,” said the officer, “why i have desired your company ” “i suppose,” replied i, “because, out of the twentyfour who are on duty here, you like my company best.” “certainly ; but i have a particular reason besides.” “what is that ?” “i am afraid.” “is it possible !” cried i, with a burst of laughter. “you forget that there are three sentinels before the house.” “no matter if there were thirteen. last christmas night idée put them all to the rout, when, in his ludicrous attire, he contemplated the gallows by the light of his lantern. i am no believer in apparitions of this kind, and yet i am now suffering for the sins of my superstitious nurse. the deuse take the confounded gossips " we both laughed, smoked our pipes, and chatted away. the clock struck eleven. the relief sallied from the soldiers' room; the men repairing to their respective posts, some of which were at a considerable distance. in less than a quarter of an hour, those who had been relieved came back. we heard the usual cry of the sentries at a quarter to twelve, and then again at half-past the deserter’s ghost. 27 twelve. immediately afterwards we heard hasty footsteps, like those of many persons together, rushing into the house and into the soldiers' room opposite to that where we were sitting. “what is that ?” cried the amazed lieutenant. “i verily believe,” replied i, somewhat alarmed, “that the sentinels have run away again from their posts.” scarcely were the words out of my mouth, before something rapped at our door. we looked at each other; my companion changed colour, and it is not unlikely that he may have made the same observation respecting me. the candle on the table burned dimly, and thus rendered the scene that ensued the more awful. the knocking was repeated: i took courage and cried. “come in 1” and in stalked with solemn pace the unfortunate idée himself, in the very dress in which he suffered. our consternation at this sight is not to be described. we sprung from our seats: i flew to the lieutenant, and the lieutenant to me. we sought refuge between the table and the settle, and both sank terrified almost to death upon the latter. we durst scarcely raise our eyes for fear of encountering those of the spectre, which still gazed steadfastly at us in silence. “do you know me, lieutenant f" at length cried the intruder, in a hollow sepulchral tone, but yet in pure german. these words enabled me to recover my scattered senses. this cannot be the idée who was hanged, thought i to myself, for he could not speak a word of german, and he cannot possibly have learned the language so expeditiously in the other world. the idea which naturally followed, that it was a trick of some impudent fellow to amuse himself at our expense, hurt 28 ghost stories. “my pride, and i determined to investigate the matter. mustering all my courage, i snuffed the candle, and taking it in my left hand advanced towards the figure. my blood curdled as i approached nearer, and i was almost tempted to turn back. luckily my good genius imparted to me spirit and strength. i rushed upon the spectre, collared it, and behold—it was flesh and bone. with this conviction all my energies suddenly returned. i thrust the supposed culprit violently against the door, which stood ajar, so as to shut it. “scoundrel, who are you?” cried i, in a tone that was none of the gentlest. i received no answer. my unexpected treatment seemed to terrify the ghost quite as much as he had before terrified us. nevertheless my speedily revived courage had wellnigh left me as speedily, when, after again violently snaking the figure, no answer was returned. at length it crouched towards a corner, and began to cry out lamentably: “don’t hurt me, sir!” a smart thump on the head accompanied the repetition of my question: “scoundrel, who are you?” “i am z–, secretary to ,”* stammered the affrighted ghost. these few words restored to my hitherto speechless officer the use of his tongue. expressions of the most vehement indignation, curses, and imprecations as coarse as were ever uttered by the roughest soldier, were poured forth by him upon the audacious secretary. “stab the dog! stab him to the neart!” cried he to me repeatedly. notwithstanding the passion in which i was myself, * the writer has not given the names, because, though the hero of the story is dead, yet many of his respectable family are still living. “i thrust the supposed culprit violently against the door, which stood ajar, so as to shut it.”—page 28. the deserter’s ghost. 29 i fortunately recollected that there are cases in which it is not right to obey our superiors; for i was still rational enough to recognise a man in the dog. instead of spilling the blood of a ghost, i began to question the nocturnal adventurer in the closest manner concerning the fool's dress, which had rendered him so terrible to us. “imerely wished to show the lieutenant my masquerade dress,” said he. the fellow was dressed in a sort of shepherd's habit, which looked just like that in which the frenchman was executed, excepting that, on closer examination, it was bordered, not with black, but with dark green ribbon. this colour, as everybody knows, appears black by a faint light, and the imagination is apt to represent it, especially in particular cases, as coal black. but as the ghost had neither crook nor pouch, and these things are indispensably necessary to the 4characteristic accoutrements of a shepherd, the lieutenant took occasion to readio him another severe lecture on his conduct, and then i bundled him out at the door. our blood had not yet time to cool, nor had we relighted our pipes, which had gone out during this scene, when something tapped timidly at the window behind me. “the devil of a fellow is at the window again already!” cried the lieutenant. i looked out, and sure enough there stood the ghost, which, as one would have supposed, ought to have been very glad to have escaped with a whole skin. we were now thoroughly acquainted with the nature of the phantom; we had palpably convinced ourselves of his corporeal existence; and yet we could not repress an emotion of terror, when the imaginary idée again appeared at the window. “well, is not the farce yet over ?” cried i: “what do 3* 30 ghost stories. you want now !” “only to request the lieutenant to order the gate to be opened for me, that i may go home.” it should be observed that he lived in the suburbs. “tell the sentinel to let you out.” “there is none there.” i closed the window in dismay. “what the devil!” cried the enraged lieutenant, springing from his seat— “no sentry there !”—owing to the severity of the prussian military laws, the affair was now likely to be attended with the most serious consequences. a seasonable allusion to our own adventure operated according to my wishes on the rigid lieutenant. i prevailed upon him to occupy with me for a moment the place of the sentries, and then we hastened to restore order in the guard-house. “where are the sentries 2" asked the lieutenant. “they have come in,” was the reply, “because the spectre appeared every moment.” he gave the timorous fellows a severe reprimand, and drove them with some smart strokes of his came to their post. glad to come off so easily for a misdemeanor which was punishable with the gauntlet, they hastened back to their station; but no sooner did they perceive the ghost standing by the gate, than back they bounced again. the lieutenant then ordered a subaltern officer to open the gate. “directly,” was the reply, and he fumbled about a long time as if he could not find the keys. at length he began to proceed leisurely towards the gate; but no sooner had he set eyes on the self-styled shepherd, than he ran back to the guard-house as if the devil had been at his heels. this subaltern was by no means a person of the ordinary stamp, but a man of good education, who was advantageously distinguished by valuable attainments above most of his equals in rank, but he, the deserter’s ghost. 31 too, proved the influence of juvenile impressions, and of the delusions of the imagination over sober reason. “will you let the man out !” said the officer, in an angry tone. “not i, indeed, sir,” replied he peremptorily, handing the key to the lieutenant. the latter took it, and silently opened the gate. the ghost bounded away, rejoiced at not receiving something to take along with him. to judge from circumstances, z. had designedly got up the farce of this apparition. in his general conduct he manifested a fondness for tricks of this kind. he possessed at that time a property of fifty thousand dollars, which, by one silly prank or other, he melted down in a few years to less than one half. i was heartily glad that our adventure put an end to the town-talk, and that it had furnished my reason with fresh weapons from the sphere of experience for contending with superstition; for many of those who had seen the spectre before it was unmasked, were convinced, from experience, and from what they deemed an undeniable fact, that at least some apparitions are real. incredulous as i was myself before i went into the officer's room, who knows what would have become of my ghostly philosophy, had this spectre acted a little more consistently, and talked french, instead of rousing me from my dream of horror, and restoring my presence of mind by a question in high german 32 garrick’s ghost. in the records of his life by taylor, we read of a trick 5f the great actor, who, like brinsley sheridan, had an inkling for practical jokes. it was on a professional visit of dr. moncey. “garrick was announced for king lear on that night, and when moncey saw him in bed, he expressed his surprise, and asked him if the play was to be changed. garrick was dressed, but had his nightcap on, and a quilt was drawn over him to give the appearance of being too ill to rise. dr. m. expressed his surprise, as it was time for garrick to be at the theatre to dress for king lear. garrick, in a languid and whining tone, told him that he was too much indisposed to perform himself, but that there was an actor named marr, so like him in figure, face, and voice, and so admirable a mimic, that he had ventured to trust the part to him, and was sure the audience would not perceive the difference. pretending that he began to feel worse, he requested moncey to leave the room in order that he might get a little sleep, but desired him to attend the theatre, and let him know the result. as soon as the doctor quitted the room, garrick jumped out of the bed and hastened to the theatre. moncey attended the performance. having left garrick in bed, he was bewildered by the scene before him, sometimes doubting, and sometimes being astonished at the resemblance between garrick and marr. at length, finding that the audience garrick's ghost. 33 were convinced of garrick's identity, moncey began to suspect a trick had been practised upon him, and instantly hurried to garrick's house at the end of the play; but garrick was too quick for him, and was found by moncey in the same state of illness. these are truths which are indeed stranger than fiction. 34 apparition of lord william petty, -it is affirmed that lord william petty, who was under the care of dr. priestley, the librarian, and the rev. mr. jervis, his tutor, was attacked, at the age of seven, with inflammation of the lungs, for which mr. alsop was summoned to bowood. after a few days, the young nobleman seemed to be out of danger; but, on a sudden relapse, the surgeon was again sent for in the evening. it was night before this gentleman reached bowood, but an unclouded moon showed every object in unequivocal distinctness. mr. alsop had passed through the lodge gate, and was proceeding to the house, when, to his astonishment, he saw lord william coming towards him, in all the buoyancy of childhood, restored, apparently, to health and vigour. “i am delighted, my dear lord,” he exclaimed, “to see you, but, for heaven's sake, go immediately within doors; it is death to you to be here at this time of night.” the child made no reply, but, turning round, was quickly out of sight. mr. alsop, unspeakably surprised, hurried to the house. here all was distress and confusion, for lord william had expired a few minutes before he reached the portico. this sad event being with all speed announced to the marquis of lansdowne, in london, orders were soon received at bowood for the interment of the corpse and the arrangement of the funeral procession. the former was directed to take place at high wickham, in the vault apparition of lord william petty. 35 which contained the remains of lord william's mother; the latter was appointed to halt at two specified places during the two nights on which it would be on the road. mr. jervis and dr. priestley attended the body. on the first day of the melancholy journey, the latter gentleman, who had hitherto said little on the subject of the appearance to mr. alsop, suddenly addressed his companion with considerable emotion in nearly these words: “there are some very singular circumstances connected with this event, mr. jervis, and a most remarkable coincidence between a dream of the late lord william and our present mournful engagement. a few weeks ago, as i was passing by his room door one morning, he called me to his bedside: ‘doctor,’ said he, “what is your christian name !” ‘surely,” said i, ‘you know it is joseph.” “well, them,' replied he, in a lively manner, “if you are joseph, you can interpret a dream for me, which i had last night. i dreamed, doctor, that i set out upon a long journey; that i stopped the first night at hungerford, whither i went without touching the ground ; that i flew from thence to salt hill, where i remained the next night, and arrived at high wickham on the third day, where my dear mamma, beautiful as an angel, stretched out her arms and caught me within them.” now,” continued the doctor, “these are precisely the places where the dear child's corpse will remain on this and the succeeding night before we reach his mother's vault, which is finally to receive it.” now here is a tissue of events as strange as they are circumstantial; and i might set myself to illustrate the apparition by the agitated state of mr. alsop's mind, were it not for the utter fallacy of this mysterious story, on which the late rev. mr. jervis, of brompton, whom i w 36 ghost stories. knew and esteemed, deemed it essential to publish “remarks” in the year 1831. from these you will learn that mr. warner is in error regarding the “address, designation, and age of the hon. william granville petty, the nature and duration of his disorder, and the name of the place of interment.” and then it comes out that neither dr. priestley nor mr. jervis attended the funeral, nor conversed at any time on the circumstance; and, regarding mr. alsop's death-bed declaration, mr. jervis, who was in his intimate confidence, never heard of such a thing until mr. warner's volume was pointed out to him. this strange story, believed by good and wise men, involved a seeming mystery, until we read in mr. jervis's “remarks” one simple sentence in reference to the gentlemen by whom it was first told—that “the enthusiasm of his nature predisposed him to entertain some visionary and romantic notions of supernatural appearances.” the water spirit. in january, 1734, the ship elizabeth, captain walker, lay at anchor in the harbour of cadiz, and had on bºard mr. burnet, a surgeon, and a native of ireland, who was returning to his native country. being a very intelligent man, and a most entertaining companion, the captain conceived a particular friendship for him. one day the conversation turned on apparitions. burnet seemed to be a firm believer in ghosts; at least he related a great number of extraordinary stories, which might be considered to argue such a belief. walker, on the contrary, satisfied in his own mind of the impossibility of supernatural appearances, endeavoured to convince his friend of the absurdity and defective evidence of those stories; and declared that nothing on earth could induce him to adopt other notions at the expense of his reason, and convert him to the faith in the visible appearance of the spirits of deceased persons. this, perhaps, inconsiderate declaration suggested to mr. burnet the idea of showing his friend, how reason, bound by the nature of man, and still more by education and prejudice, in the shackles of imagination, is frequently tyrannized over by the latter. about noon, they were standing with several of the crew on the forecastle, and looking at the governor's guard-boats bringing-to in the bay, when burnet, who was known to be an excellent swimmer, offered to bet that 4 38 ghost stories. he would leap overboard and swim under water all the way to those boats, close to which he would suddenly emerge, and terrify the men on guard, who would take him for a water spirit. the bet was accepted; burnet stripped, sprung into the water, and was presently out of sight. the crew ran forward, and all fixed their eyes steadfastly on the guardboats, in expectation of seeing him rise. they waited in vain; he did not make his appearance, for he had undertaken more than he could accomplish. a considerable time elapsed : all hopes of ever seeing him again were wholly extinguished ; he must certainly have perished. all on board were in the utmost uneasiness and dismay, and especially those who had wagered with him, and who were now tormented by the idea that they were in some measure accessary to his death. this melancholy event threw a damp over the spirits of the whole crew. at dusk, walker retired with some of his friends to his cabin, where the loss of their agreeable companion was the only, and by no means cheering topic of their conversation. the party broke up, and the captain went to bed in a state of extraordinary dejection. his mind was so deeply engaged with the lamentable fate of his friend, that he found it impossible to sleep. he had thus lain for a considerable time; the moon shone bright through the window of the cabin, when he perceived that the door opened. he turned his eyes that way, and discovered something which could not but astonish him, for he fancied that it resembled a human figure. presently recovering from his surprise, he would fain have persuaded himself that it was only a phantom of his disturbed imagination, and looked another way. his eyes, however, turned instinctthe water spirit. 39 ively to the mysterious object, which he now saw plainly approaching him, and in which he recognised the exact figure of his deceased friend. at this moment he was seized with a horror which shook his inmost soul, and extorted involuntary tones of agony from his heaving bosom. the mate, who used to sleep behind the cabin near the steerage, was not yet in bed, and heard the captain cry in a loud and evidently agitated voice, “who are you?” he instantly ran in with a light; but, on perceiving burnet's spirit wrapped in a morning gown, he fell senseless on the floor without uttering a single word. the nocturnal intruder now proved himself to be a humane and compassionate spirit, manifesting, from this moment, the utmost anxiety for the revival of the mate, who was half dead with fear. the spectre ran to a bottle of spirits which stood in the window, held it to the poor fellow's nose, and rubbed his temples with the liquor. the captain, who still lay trembling in every joint, observing the kind officiousness of the spirit, began to recover from his terror. this supposed spectre completely dispelled his astonishment and consternation, when, without relaxing for a moment his attentions to the apparently lifeless mate, he thus addressed the captain: “my dear friend,”—for it was no other than burnet himself—“i beg your pardon: i am afraid i have carried the joke too far. i swam round the ship and got in again, unobserved, at the cabin window. this result i had not calculated on ; for my only object was to convince you of the natural terror which usually overpowers even the boldest, on occasion of such appearances. you are now, idare say, thoroughly convinced of this oft-contested truth.” 40 ghost stories, walker was sincerely rejoiced to be thus awaked from his frightful dream, and to know that his friend, whom he had believed to be dead, was still living. but, while he cheerfully acknowledged that he was vanquished and perfectly convinced, he did not fail to recommend the mate to his friend's best efforts, lest his revival from a sham death should be marked by the real death of the poor fellow. mr. burnet's endeavours to recover him were not unsuccessful; but no sooner did the mate come to himself, and set his eyes on the supposed ghost, who inadvertently stood just before him, than again, overcome with terror, he relapsed immediately into his former senseless state. burnet then retired from the cabin, to call others to the assistance of the unfortunate man; and much time was consequently lost; for all to whom he applied were more or less frightened at the unexpected appearance of one whom they regarded as drowned, so that he had great difficulty, with all his arts of persuasion, to convince them that he was himself. the unfortunate mate never recovered the complete use of his senses. nature had sustained too severe a shock, and reason was driven, as it were, from her seat for ever. from that unlucky hour his mental faculties seemed to be stupefied; and he never afterwards could be brought to look mr. burnet in the face, though he had previously been one of the most courageous of men, and had undauntedly braved death in many a danger. thus terminated burnet's experiment to try how soon the imagination of an incredulous person may be overcome; and how far the fear natural to every person may extend its influence over the so easily deluded senses. his adventure shows us, at the same time, that it may be the water spirit. 41 dangerous to attempt to convince the reason by attacking the imagination; that it betrays but little kindness or delicacy of feeling thus to dissect, in a manner, the soul of a friend out of mere curiosity; and that it is unpardon able temerity, even in one who is impressed with the fullest conviction of the nonentity of supernatural appearances, to expose himself to any trial by which human *ingenuity may put him and his courage to too severe a test. the friar’s ghost in the imperial palace at wienna. the beautiful aurora königsmark had just given birth, in 1692, to the infant who became, in the sequel, the renowned marshal saxe, when augustus ii., elector of saxony, tore himself from her arms, and followed the call of honour to hungary, where the imperial army was opposing the turks. the camp was not a harem. the dangers and the hardships of war formed so disagreeable a contrast to the magic festivities of moritzburg, that augustus soon grew weary of his new career; and at the end of the campaign he quitted the army, returning by way of vienna for the purpose of paying his respects to the emperor. leopold received and treated the elector with such distinction and attention, as no protestant prince had ever before experienced at the austrian court. the easy and agreeable manner of augustus paralyzed, for a time, the spanish etiquette of that court, and gave rise to a series of brilliant fetes in honour of the elector. equality of age, and similarity of disposition, soon produced a close friendship between him and joseph, king of the romans, which seemed to the courtiers to be of a political tendency, and therefore attracted universal notice. in order to discover the secret, they endeavoured to involve the elector in love-intrigues; but this stratagem at first failed. at length the proud and volupthe friar’s ghost. 43 tuous countess esterle tried her powers of fascination, and the lovely aurora was soon banished from his thoughts. intoxicated with the rapture of the first enjoyment augustus was yet revelling in delicious morning dreams, when he received a summons to attend the king. he repaired without delay to his apartment; but what was his astonishment to find this prince, whom he had left perfectly well the preceding night, pale, perturbed, and indeed half delirious in bed. “good god l’’ exclaimed the elector, “what is the matter? what has happened to your majesty " “a most frightful adventure,” replied joseph, collecting himself; “you shall hear, and i am certain you will tremble along with me. last night i was visited by the most horrid apparition that, perhaps, ever terrified mortal. i had been in bed about two hours, when the door of this chamber flew open with a great noise. under the idea that it was my page, i did not undraw my curtain, but reprimanded him severely for disturbing me. judge, however, what was my terror, when all at once i heard the rattling of chains, and near me stood a tall white figure, which, in a hollow, frightful tone, thus addressed me:— “‘king joseph 1 behold in me a spirit which is enduring the pains of purgatory, and is commissioned by a higher power to announce to thee, that, by thy friendship for the elector of saxony, thou wilt infallibly plunge thyself into the abyss of destruction. i come to warn, and to save thee. renounce, then, this unhallowed connection, or expect everlasting damnation 1’ “with this threat the clanking of chains was redoubled, and, as fright fettered my tongue, the spectre 44 ghost stories. proceeded: “what, joseph 1 dost thou not answer me? wilt thou have the audacity to defy the almighty is the kindness, is the favour of a mortal of more value to thee than the grace of god, to whom thou owest every thing? in three days i will come for thy answer; and if thou art then resolved to continue thy intercourse with the elector, thy destruction and his are inevitable.” “with these words the figure vanished, and left me in agony not to be described. i had not power to call my attendants. after some time i rang my bell with great difficulty, and my valet found me almost insensible. “i am now somewhat more tranquil; for i am resolved to amend my life, and hope to obtain forgiveness of my sins. i am only apprehensive for you, and therefore conjure you to embrace our holy religion: throw yourself into the bosom of that church through which alone there is salvation, and thus assure yourself of eternal life.” here the king finished his narrative, which cost him manifest effort, and sunk exhausted on his pillow. the elector was too much confounded and affected to reply. he silently considered the possibilities and probabilities of this mysterious occurrence; but his sober reason could not find any ground for attributing the extraordinary circumstance to supernatural agency. he endeavoured at first to persuade his friend that the apparition was nothing but a lively dream, the phantom of a morbid imagination: but the king repeatedly assured him he knew, alas ! but too well, that it was a reality; that he was awake, and that his statement was perfectly accurate. “but,” said the elector, “may it not have been a wilful deception?” joseph, with genuine grandezza, refused for a moment the friar’s ghost. 45 to entertain this idea, because he was sure that no one would have the audacity to palm so gross an imposition upon him. “appearances, indeed,” courteously rejoined augustus, “are against this conjecture, but the host of intriguing priests, by which this court is encompassed, embraces many inventive geniuses. might not some of these have formed a plan for ridding it of me, from a notion that our conversation may relate to religious topics, and that i may be revealing their rogueries to your majesty t” this idea had some weight with the king. the elector asked whether his confessor had never raised objections against their friendship; and joseph frankly acknowledged, that he had not only frequently exhorted him to break it off, but even threatened to refuse him absolution, in case he should not discontinue his intercourse with the elector. “now we come to the point ſ” cried the elector, recovering all at once his usual flow of spirits. he then explained to the king the probable motives of the plan, and the means employed for its execution, and undertook to unmask the prophet of evil. both promised to observe inviolable silence respecting the result of this conversation, and augustus retired to his apartments, which he did not quit for three days, upon pretext of indisposition. the fair esterle endeavoured, but in vain, to draw him from his seclusion, and he, meanwhile, matured his plan. on the third night he undressed and went to bed as usual; but no sooner had he dismissed his attendants, than he rose and repaired by a private door to the king's chamber. here he waited in concealment for the midnight hour. the clock struck twelve, and the spectre appeared, with all the horrors that had attended its first visit. 46 ghost stories. “king joseph " began a sepulchral voice; but it was prevented from proceeding by the herculean arm of the elector, who seized the apparition by the throat, and 'dashed it on the floor. “what impudent scoundrel art thou?” thundered the elector. the king trembled behind his curtain for the fate of augustus. “jesus!—maria "shrieked the spectre—“mercy — for god’s sake —i am a pater.” “what!” cried the elector—“thou art a spirit then hie thee back to purgatory, whence thou art come.” he had, meanwhile, opened the window, and with a long, loud shriek, down rolled the pretended ghost over the roofs of the buildings of the imperial palace. the chains clanked amid the stillness of night, and accelerated the fall. the noise brought a sentinel on duty at the palace to the spot, and in the unlucky spectre he recognised a dependent of the king's confessor. the miserable wretch certainly did not expect to be thus remunerated for so honourable a mission. he was dashed almost in pieces, and expired in a few hours, but his spirit has not been known to have ever returned from purgatory. shame, horror, and indignation, were now expressed in the countenance of the king. he was incensed at the base intrigue, and vowed, on his accession to the throne, to expel all the jesuits from the country. time, however, moderated the vehemence of this rash resolve ; he did not keep his word; indeed, he was scarcely able to dismiss a confessor, by whom he had been so egregiously imposed upon. this adventure excited an extraordinary sensation at vienna, and strong interest and admiration in behalf of the elector. the emperor leopold alone expressed his the friar’s ghost. 47 displeasure at this precipitate conduct at a foreign court, and became evidently colder towards augustus, who seemed not to observe the change, finished his intrigue with the ambitious hungarian countess, and then quitted vienna in triumph. the cunning fathers of the society of jesus were obliged, for that time, to relinquish the plan they had matured, for catching in their net one of the most powerful apostates of germany, whose ancestors had so essentially promoted the reformation. but it was only for a time. what priestcraft could not on this occasion accomplish, was effected soon afterwards by an unlucky longing after the polish crown. the very same augustus, who had so zealously defended the principles of protestantism, voluntarily deposited his solemn recantation of the faith of his forefathers in the hands of the cardinal-archbishop of raab. in possession of an imaginary dignity, he was, in the sequel, involved in a series of humiliations and difficulties, which obscured his glory, and cooled the attachment of his honest saxons. he continued till his death in what is styled the only true faith. he now suffered spirits to walk at pleasure, and his annals even relate, that he treated all subsequent nocturnal apparitions with peculiar complaisance. the bear of friedrichshall. previous to the french revolution, there was no class of people in continental europe so thoroughly superstitious as the common soldiers. men who would readily peril their lives in the “imminent deadly breach” would tremble and fly at the bare apprehension of seeing a ghost. napoleon's atheistical myrmidons changed all this; but the following story will illustrate the state of things at a period when soldiers had not become so brave as to fear neither god, man, nor the devil. when charles xii. of sweden was besieging the town of friedrichshall, in norway, in the winter of the year 1718, one night between twelve and one o'clock, something that had the appearance of a huge bear was perceived in the place, not far from the powder-magazine. his tremendous roar as he approached drove the sentries from their post, and terrified them to such a degree, that they ran breathless to the guard-house, declaring that the devil in the form of a bear haunted that part of the town. for this violation of their duty the men were instantly put in irons, and a subaltern was ordered to proceed immediately with a fresh party to occupy the post which they had deserted. these, however, together with the subaltern, presently betook themselves to flight. they protested that the monster had advanced straight to meet them, and that he had vomited flames of fire from his gasping jaws. the bear of friedrichshall. 49 an officer now received directions to go with a suffi cient force and sift the story of this formidable apparition to the bottom: but after their arrival no traces of the shaggy quadruped were to be seen. it had vanished, probably because the clock had already struck one; for it is well known that the devil and his imps are visible only in the same hour with spectres and apparitions. the very next morning the rigid commandant, adhering to the letter of the articles of war, caused the soldiers belonging to the two parties who had abandoned their post, the subaltern not excepted, to be hanged. they died in the firm conviction that it was the devil whom they had seen. when the troops for guard-duty were drawn up on the parade, and had their different posts, among which was that at the powder-magazine, allotted to them, those to whom the watch there between the hours of eleven and one was assigned could not by any means be prevailed on to do their duty. “since we have the choice,” said they, “of having our heads screwed off by the devil, or being tucked up by the hangman, we would rather die by the hand of the latter than fall into the tremendous claws of beelzebub.” the commandant, who knew all his men, selected from among them the most intrepid, and promised each of them, who would undertake the midnight duty at the powder-magazine, twelve ducats and promotion to a halbert. after a long pause, two sturdy pomeranians offered to take the duty at the two posts in the front and rear of the building, but only on the condition, that each post should this time consist of two men, and that two others of their comrades should agree to accompany them. two more were accordingly found, and the four resolute 5 50 ghost stories. fellows, after loading their muskets with a brace of balls, and providing them with fresh flints, repaired to their posts. the whole garrison was in fearful expectation, which became more and more intense the nearer the dreadful hour approached. not a snore was heard on the benches of the guard-house; not a subaltern narrated his achievements; not a drummer played merry-andrew tricks; a dead silence everywhere prevailed. at the powdermagazine the four sentries, with quick strides, paced up and down their beat, at the same time repeating their prayers aloud. the dreaded hour arrived, and with the last stroke of the clock a low growl was heard at a distance. the faint glimmering of fire was soon afterwards discerned. the roaring became more frightful, and the infernal bear himself appeared. two of the sentries, without waiting the nearer approach of the monster, ran away; a third, one of the pomeranians, in the act of taking aim, fell to the ground and broke his arm; and the fourth, his countryman, alone fired. but he had either missed his foe, or what seemed most likely to him at this critical moment, he was destined to learn from experience the truth of the ancient well-known adage, that “spirits cannot be wounded.” the tremendous animal, with horrid roar, now made towards him, and he also took to his heels. the commandant had given strict orders, that if any thing occurred during the night, it should be instantly reported to him. a subaltern was accordingly despatched; but before he returned, an old captain resolved to go and meet the goblin. he ordered a sergeant to follow him ; the latter refused, till the drawn sword of the captain forced him to obey. f.º “without losing a moment, he gave the bear, which was groping at the door of the building, such a blow on the head with the hatchet, as laid the monster sprawling.”—page 51. the bear of friedrichshall. 51 before he set out, he armed himself with a hatchet, stuck a loaded pistol in his sash, and made the sergeant take a carbine. he moreover posted men at small intervals all the way towards the powder-magazine, that in case of emergency they might hasten the more speedily to each other's assistance. the undaunted officer then went forward, followed by the sergeant. on approaching the dangerous spot, he saw a glimmering light at the door of the powder-magazine. he redoubled his pace. “quick, comrade, but softly ſ” said he in a low voice; “this is a devil of a peculiar kind.” he succeeded in approaching the magazine unobserved. without losing a moment, he gave the bear, which was groping at the door of the building, such a blow on the head with the hatchet, as laid the monster sprawling. “clap the carbine to his throat l” cried the captain to his companion; “but don’t fire till he stirs ſ” he then discharged his pistol as a signal to his men, and several soldiers immediately hastened with torches and lanterns to the spot. the bear, which was still alive, being stripped of his hide, proved to be a resolute swede, provided with picklocks and crow-bars. he had contrived to produce the appearance of vomiting fire by means of the lighted end of a match which he held between his teeth, and with which he designed to have blown up the magazine. the commandant caused him to be hanged the next day in his ursine accoutrements. the brave captain was immediately promoted to the rank of major, and the sergeant to an ensigncy. 52 barbito; or, the spectre of cuenza. a spanish tale. during the reign of philip ii. a rich hidalgo, named don lopez, resided on the bank of the xucar, in the vicinity of cuenza, at the farthest extremity of new castile. he had a good heart, good health, a good table, and many friends. he was in all respects a happy man : he feared god, he loved the king, he respected the holy office; in a word, he was all that in those days a good spaniard ought to be, for his peace, his honour, and his eternal salvation. don lopez daily blessed his fate. “what have i done,” said he, “to merit the favours with which heaven is pleased to load me? i have the honour to belong to the greatest nation in the world; i have had my share in its glory; i have served under the great captain, and seen francis i. taken prisoner at pavia. at home i have nothing to wish for: my wife is a pattern of virtue, and her propensities are exactly the same as mine: whatever she says is just what i would have said, except, indeed, that i think it a great deal better said by her; and she spares me even the trouble of scolding our domestics, who very often deserve it. we have but one cause of complaint—the want of children; but in this life we must expect some disappointments. i have young distant relations whom i tenderly love, and who return my affection; and friends who never leave me: they form a voluntary family, who surround me for my happiness and the spectre of cuenza. 53 for their own. my friends are attached to me; they are people of excellent understandings. i know not how it happens that they are always in my way of thinking, for why should they stoop to flatter me? i give them a dinner, to be sure, but a dinner is not worth purchasing at such a price. is not father ignacio, one of my guests, accustomed to say, that man lives upon nothing 2"— this good prior of a convent of hieronimites actually had this adage in his mouth; but he gave a decided preference to the pullets of cuenza and the game of badajoz, and never drank wine of biscay when he could get that of la mancha. one single wish disturbed the good lopez in the midst of his happiness. he was desirous of affording those around him some new and extraordinary gratification, which should heighten the degree of felicity that he thought each of them shared with him. long were his meditations directed to this subject, and at length he hit upon an expedient. he resolved to disappear, but in the most serious manner, as a person disappears when he dies and is buried. he smiled when he figured to himself the sudden change which he should perceive in the faces of his dear kinsmen and his worthy friends. what an exquisite, what an unexpected, what an overpowering transition from profound grief to extravagant joy, when he should drop in among them as from the clouds, and they should hear him say, “weep no more, here i am " i suspect how he came by this idea. it was not very long since charles w. in his convent in estremadura, had exhibited the ceremony of his own funeral, and lopez determined to follow his example. no more than a week elapsed between the formation of this design and its execution. 5* 54 ghost stories. don lopez had an attendant who was the perfect counterpart of the servant of the centurion. he said to him, listen, and he listened; be silent, and he was silent; follow, and he followed. don lopez first feigned illness; he grew worse and worse. there was not a physician but admitted this, since he refused, and for a good reason, to submit to be bled; and according to the . practice of the faculty of madrid, they had, as a preliminary step, proposed four operations of that kind. at length he was given over and his case declared hopeless. his servant, the only person whom he suffered to attend him in this critical moment, collected the scattered members of a figure provided for the purpose; he hastily put together something which bore no bad resemblance to don lopez: the real one slunk away by a private staircase, and had been galloping for several hours on the high road to cadiz, with the intention of embarking for the low countries, when his image was removed to be conveyed in procession to the great church of cuenza. meanwhile all the bells of cuenza were in motion, and the dressed-up figure was escorted by the clergy and the family in deep mourning. the whole cathedral was hung with black; its five naves and all the chapels were illuminated; father ignacio delivered the funeral sermon, and the singers performed a de profundis in such a style, that the impression made by it is not yet forgotten. don lopez had meanwhile reached the low countries: to while away the six months of his intended absence, he determined to go to the wars. he joined the army just in time to share in the victory of saint quentin, and to lose the little finger of his left hand in that engagement. this accident was even inserted in the mercury of the time, but under the designation of the spectre of cuenza. 55 don ***; for, as may easily be imagined, don lopez preserved the strictest incognito. his faithful servant pedrillo rejoined him, and informed him of all the particulars related above; only, that he might not divert his master from his plan, to which he was exceedingly attached, he acquainted him with but a small part of the grief which his supposed death had occasioned, and thus left him in the full enjoyment of the pleasure of being. deeply regretted. at the same time pedrillo did not conceal the circumstance, that, on quitting the house on some plausible pretext or other, which is never wanting on such occasions, of all the friends to whom he had bidden adieu, barbito was the one whom it had cost him the most trouble to prevail upon to remain at cuenza. barbito was a pyrennean dog reared by don lopez. this animal was equally distinguished for his beauty, courage, strength, and fidelity. don lopez was thoroughly sensible of the attachment of his dear barbito, which, since the disappearance of his master, was transferred to things that had belonged to him. he vowed that on his return his dog should have whole rabbits and partridges to feast upon, and an olla podrida to his own cheek on the 28th of august, the day on which he had given this grateful proof of remembrance. those who enlist under the banners of mars run more than one risk. don lopez was taken prisoner by a knight of lower bretagne, who conducted him to his castle, and there kept him confined till the peace, that is to say, for the space of two tedious years. during all this time don lopez heard not a single word of castile, and saw nothing from the windows of his dungeon but the chimneys of quimpercorentin. meanwhile several incidents had occurred at cuenza. 56 ghost stories. the grief excited by the death of don lopez was too acute to be lasting: such is the case with all violent emotions; were it not so, we should be unable to endure them, and this it is that excuses the human heart. the good castilian was prudence itself, and, that he might make sure finding his house as he left it, he had taken care to bequeath to his wife the full and free possession of all his property. donna beatrix, for that was her name, was, as we have observed, a discreet woman, and such a lover of order that she had not moved a chair from the place in which it had stood for upwards of fifteen years. the will was found in the writing-desk of the supposed defunct; but the dear nephews, who had looked forward to the succession of their beloved uncle, attacked this sole support of the widow. a lawyer discovered that there was a comma in a place where there ought to have been a full point, and a particle where there should have been a conjunction. the matter was referred to the corregidor, by the corregidor to the oydors of the royal tribunal of valencia, and by these oydors to the oydors of the chancery of grenada, who, on account of the fatal comma, unanimously decided against the widow. the nephews were accordingly put into possession of the estates of don lopez. donna beatrix was allowed to retain the house alone: as her habits were frugal and her wishes moderate, as her wardrobe remained in the same place, her stock of chocolate in the same cupboard, and the cage of her parrot in the same corner, she was dejected only because the loss of the suit reminded her of the loss of her husband. the affair, however, became the talk of the whole country and the neighbouring provinces. don lopez having regained his liberty, and being put quite out of the spectre of cuenza.. 57 conceit with the idea of exciting surprise, returned as speedily, at least, as he departed. at an inn at saragossa, he was informed of what had passed: he was somewhat astonished, but had no doubt that his presence would much more astonish his nephews, and restore things to their proper order. instead, however, of the magnificent entertainment which he had designed to give, and in the midst of which he was to drop from the sky, to his own great joy and that of the whole company; the first thing he did was to run home, and tell his wife that it was all a joke, and that for the rest he had intended to return sooner. he went in, and found donna beatrix sitting in the same chair, on the same spot, and engaged in the same occupation as formerly, that is, in making a dress for our lady of cuenza. he ran towards her with all the eagerness of an affectionate husband. donna beatrix might, perhaps, have been thinking of him, but most certainly she never expected to see don lopez. no sooner did she perceive him than she crossed herself, and falling upon her knees before an image of saint jago de compostella, “ah, my dear husband " cried she, “pray don't hurt me; you know i never did any thing to displease you.” don lopez kept advancing. “ah! dear, holy virgin'” exclaimed she, covering her face with her hands, “do not touch me, my dear husband; go back again, go back! if your soul wants any thing for its repose, i promise that plenty of masses shall be said for " it; but, for heaven's sake, go back, or you will frighten me to death !” the good hidalgo, finding that his wife mistook him for a spectre, and that she was too much agitated to listen to his explanation, knew not whether to laugh or to weep; 58 ghost stories. but, with a view the more effectually to revive her spirits, he hurried to the convent of hieronimites, and ran up stairs to the apartment of the reverend father ignacio. the father had just done copying the sermon of a missionary of gallicia, for the purpose of appropriating it to his own use. this sermon treated of all the appearances which the evil spirit is capable of assuming in order to tempt the handmaids of the lord, and was to be delivered successively in each of the six nunneries of cuenza. scarcely had don lopez entered, and opened his mouth to make himself known to his old friend, when the monk, who was full of his subject, and very far from a freethinker, stared at him all aghast. poor don lopez, grieved at the fright in which he had left his wife, and not less astonished at the fixed attitude of ignacio, pulled him forcibly by the sleeve. the jolly prior, roused from his siesta after a good dinner, and divided between the fear of the devil whom he attacked in his sermon, and the figure of don lopez, which, as he thought, the devil alone could have assumed, scampered out at the door which was left open; and, without once looking behind him, left the field of battle to don lopez, or rather to the evil spirit. -lopez quitted the convent, and went straightway to his nephews. he first met with the younger, and asked if he did not know him. the young man, who disbelieved the existence of ghosts, burst into a laugh. “god be praised,” cried lopez, “here, at least, i have found one rational person!” upon this he began to relate to his nephew how his wife and the prior had taken him for what he was not: he assured him, that, so far from being a spirit, he was still flesh and bone—his dear uncle, the good hidalgo lopez, who had always cherished a particular the spectre of cuenza. 59 * affection for him; and concluded with trusting that his nephews would now, as a matter of course, restore his estate, of which they had taken possession rather too early. the young man was an andalusian, gay and jocose; he laughed more heartily than before, and said, “go about your business, good man; the mourning for you is over.” at these words don lopez flew into a violent passion, which is natural enough for a man who is denied to be what he is. this warm altercation attracted the notice of the elder brother, who went down stairs to see what was the matter. don lopez was not received more favourably by him; in vain he had recourse to persuasion and to threats. all the servants and the neighbours thronged round; one said that it could not possibly be the hidalgo don lopez, because he was at his interment; another, that father ignacio delivered the funeral discourse; a third, that he had carried a taper on the occasion to the convent of the black penitents; and all agreed, that the stranger had something of the look of don lopez, but for this reason he was the more dangerous an impostor. a little man in black judiciously observed, that it would be well to secure him, and carry him before the corregidor. this proposal was seconded by all the bystanders, and especially the two nephews; and they were just proceeding to put it into execution, in spite of the very natural rage of our hidalgo, when an alguasil major and four familiars, or officers of the inquisition, alighting from a carriage, seized and hurried him before that highly respectable tribunal. i shall not give the particulars of the examination which poor don lopez here underwent, or of the torture by water, to which recourse was had to force him to con60 ghost stories. fess what demon had taken possession of him, and to what order and class he belonged. the good hidalgo held out stoutly against the first six glasses which he was forced to swallow ; but when he was extended upon a table, and a prodigious funnel thrust into his mouth, to double or triple the dose of the fatal liquid, his courage forsook him, and he would have confessed himself to be a devil of any class they pleased, but for a tremendous noise which suddenly resounded through the dreary vaults, and diverted the attention of his tormentors. the blast that burst from the horn of astolpho, or from the trumpets of israel when they overthrew the walls of jericho, could alone be compared to the sound which wakened all the echoes of this abode of silence and of terror. the familiars fell upon their knees, thinking that the last day had arrived; poor don lopez raised himself on his seat; the pen dropped from the hands of the secretary; the inquisitor turned pale;—it was barbito, the faithful, the affectionate, the terrible barbito. he had accidentally got scent of his master near the convent of the hieronimites; he had followed him from street to street, to the inquisition; where the jailers from fear, and the dogs of the prison out of friendship, had permitted him to enter. barbito, restless, impatient, furious, continued to seek his master; he perceived him, and overturning every thing in his way, leaped upon the table; and having for a considerable time licked his hands, at length lay down at his feet. wo be now to any one who durst approach him barbito changed the fate of don lopez. but for him his master could have expected nothing milder than to be imprisoned for life, after figuring in an auto de fé; but the testimony of his dog was a ray of light that com-* ſºlº j.' º s | | º z// º w º º º, ſº * / º º . | |/ º sº i º º r n § º º | º | n º n. n: | i n § n | n n º hiſ ill “barbito, restless, impatient, furious, continued to seek his master; he perceived him, and overturning every thing in his way, leaped upon the table.”—page 60. the spectre of cuenza. 61 pletely convinced the secretary. this little man, who was a great scholar, was just then printing a most ingenious dissertation on the souls of brutes. barbito afforded an additional argument in favour of his system, and don lopez reaped the benefit of this. the secretary demonstrated to the inquisitor, that a dog is a witness who cannot be objected to in any country. what proved, besides, that don lopez was not a devil in disguise, was, that he had not perceived the least smell of brimstone, which was generally the case with those who passed through his hands. the secretary accompanied don lopez and barbito to donna beatrix; at the sight of this witness, conjugal affection overcame her fears. but the good hidalgo might have perceived, if he would, that his return put her very much out of her way. she was, as we have observed, extremely methodical: for two years she had lived in the style of a widow, and now found herself obliged to resume that of a wife; but such was the goodness of her disposition, and her fondness for don lopez, that the shadow of dissatisfaction had soon passed, and an hour afterwards she thought of nothing but the happiness of seeing him again. the wife of don lopez was the only person that ſollowed the example of barbito. the nephews, who had inherited his property, would never acknowledge him, and merely admitted that he bore some resemblance to the deceased. father ignacio entrenched himself behind his funeral discourse. the question concerning the restitution of the property was not discussed; don lopez recovered nothing, because, exclusively of the confusion which a retrograde movement creates in families, the corregidor of cuenza, the royal audienza of valencia, and the chancery of grenada, could not be wrong. 6 62 ghost stories. the little secretary, who supported his book in patronizing don lopez, had a sister who was first waitingwoman to the king's mistress, donna clara de mendoza, whom titian was then painting as venus anadyomene, without other habiliment than a necklace and bracelets of oriental pearls as large as pigeon's eggs. the waitingwoman introduced don lopez and his dog to donna clara. the first act of kindness certainly proceeded from a woman; in that sex, the heart never fails to guide the head. donna clara represented every thing to the monarch, from barbito to the little finger of don lopez. she considered only his misfortunes and his goodness of heart; the king, on the other hand, beheld the services of a brave spaniard, who had never asked a favour, and settled a pension upon him. don lopez purchased the work of the little secretary, and wrote the history which the reader has here perused, to warn any one who should have a fancy to return like him, to take the prudent precaution to cause himself to be first recognised by his barbito. 63 the danger of tampering with the fear of ghosts. towards the end of the first quarter of the last century, the belief in ghosts and the fear of supernatural appearances began here and there to be considered as silly and dangerous. about this period some young men who were pursuing their studies at vienna, and lived on friendly terms together, manifested a strong desire to shake off all the prejudices and superstitious notions in which they had been brought up. they soon perceived, however, that it was only by slow degrees that this object could be accomplished; nevertheless, one of them, named joseph bernhardi, who was apt to talk rather big, insisted that, at the age of twenty-two, he had long since completely conquered the grossest of his former prejudices, for instance, the dread of apparitions. “yes,” said one of his companions, “i know as well as you that devils and spectres have not the power to hurt us; i am as firmly convinced as you can be that god is much too gracious and tender a father to abandon us to the power of evil spirits; but still i cannot wholly free myself from the influence of the silly gossip of my nurse relative to this subject. and though i know there is no such thing as the hobgoblin and the black man to whom she threatened to give me in order to keep me quiet, and laugh at all such nonsense; still an obscure feeling of some inexplicable connection of night and dark64 ghost stories. ness with the occupations of invisible spirits pervades my mind, and, in spite of my better convictions and the arguments of reason, i cannot entirely suppress it. in particular, i cannot pass late at night by the charnelhouse of our church-yard with coolness and composure; an involuntary horror comes over me, and i always quicken my pace, though i am thoroughly satisfied that the dead will lie quietly enough in their graves, and that those to whom the bones in the charnel-house once belonged have not the power to do us the least injury.” bernhardi laughed heartily at this frank confession, and was not sparing of sarcastic remarks on his friend. “for my part,” added he, boastfully, “i would engage to go to-night into the vault close to the charnel-house, and give the corpse deposited there a few days since a slap in the face, without feeling the slightest alarm.” his friends, on account of his swaggering, took him at his word. “as to the slap in the face,” said they, “we will cheerfully excuse you and the poor corpse from that; but we shall expect you to prove to-night, between twelve and one, that you are capable of doing what you assert, or we shall all consider you as an arrant braggart, who has a heart in his mouth, but none where it ought to be.” bernhardi was almost offended because his companions seemed to doubt his assurance, and declared that he was quite ready to submit to the required test. one of the students was acquainted with the family to whom the vault in question belonged, and found means to procure the key. in the evening, the party assembled at bernhardi's apartments, and awaited with impatience the arrival of midnight. twelve o'clock at length struck. they gave the resolute bernhardi the key to the vault and a fork, which, to prove that he had really been there, the fear of ghosts. 65 he was to stick into the coffin containing the corpse, to which he had proposed to give a slap in the face. the students, for the sake of ease, were in their morning-gowns. bernhardi, without quitting his, set out on his sepulchral expedition. his friends thought they could perceive him change colour, when they put the key and the fork into his hands; but yet he left them in apparently the highest spirits. they concluded that he was still in the same predicament with themselves. they were all firmly convinced that no harm was to be apprehended in the vault from a real ghost; but yet they could not help shuddering when they fancied themselves in his place, fork in hand, beside the coffin. bernhardi stayed much longer than they expected. according to their calculation, the whole business might have been performed in less than a quarter of an hour; and yet the clock struck one, and he had not returned. they began to be uneasy at his long absence, and to apprehend that some accident had befallen him. they accordingly agreed to go in a body, with a lantern, to the vault in quest of their friend. by the way they still entertained hopes of meeting him, but were disappointed. the reader may conceive their alarm, when they at length found him extended upon the ground before the open door of the vault, and to all appearance lifeless. they instantly lifted him up, and spoke to him, but received no answer. they held the lantern to his face; it was pale as death; his mouth was wide open, as though in the act of screaming, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. as soon as his young companions had recovered from their first fright, they lost no time in taking the necessary measures for his revival. in the first place they loosed all those parts of his dress, 6* 66 ghost stories. which, by their pressure, tended still more to impede the already obstructed circulation of the blood. the strongest of them then took him on his back and carried him home, while some ran for a doctor, or were otherwise occupied in arrangements for the recovery of their unfortunate friend. not a moment was lost in useless lamentation, or frivolous conjectures, for they well knew that the delay of a quarter of an hour might, in such a case, prove fatal. the moment they had reached his chamber they undressed him and put him to bed, laying him on his right side, that the determination of the blood to the region of the heart might not be increased; frequently sprinkled his face with cold water, and held to his nose a smellingbottle containing volatile salt;-for want of which the best vinegar may be employed. after they had persevered some time in these attentions, some faint signs of returning animation were perceived. the doctor and his assistants redoubled their exertions, and at length had the inexpressible satisfaction to recall to life by their efforts the apparently inanimate bernhardi. the happiness which they felt at his revival was destined, however, to experience a severe drawback. they at first supposed that he was unable to speak from weakness: but, unfortunately, he never afterwards recovered entirely the power of speech. the violence of the fright had paralyzed his tongue, and for a long time he could not articulate a word so as to be understood. when asked what had happened to him on that unfortunate night in the vault, he shuddered, and by signs desired pen, ink, and paper to be brought to him in bed, on which he answered the inquiry of his friends in the fol. lowing words:— the fear of ghosts. 67 “i have been severely punished for my boasting and presumption. ireached the coffin without perceiving any thing that at all resembled a ghost; but when i had with trembling hand stuck the fork into the coffin, and was retiring with the utmost precipitation, something detained me by seizing my morning-gown. i struggled to extricate myself, but fell senseless with fright to the ground, and know not what happened afterwards.” on reading these lines, bernhardi's friends were not a little astonished. they were not disposed to question the truth of this statement, but their reason had many objections to urge against it. how could a ghost hold a person fast by the morning-gown —how could an immaterial being have hands to grasp any material object? they puzzled their brains for a considerable time, in vain, to reconcile their friend’s account of his adventure with the voice of sound reason. at length they resolved to examine the vault itself, in hopes of discovering some traces of the supposed spirit. without communicating their intention to bernhardi, his inquisitive comrades repaired the following night, at the hour of twelve, to the vault. they had the good sense to equip themselves against any emergency, because experience had taught them that such precautions impart courage for the pursuit of an inquiry of this nature. they took care to be provided, among other things, with several lanterns: for the same spectre which had terrified bernhardi out of his wits in the dark, might perhaps prove, in a good light, to be a mere trifle. they thus proceeded with all due precaution to the vault, searched every corner of it, looked among all the coffins, but found nothing. at length, one of them perceived the fork which their unfortunate friend had brought 68 ghost stories. with him the preceding night. it was thrust deep into one of the coffins, and from it hung a small piece of cotton. “thank god!” cried he, “the ghost is discovered see, here is the fork, and a bit of cotton out of bernhardi's morning-gown the poor fellow, in his hurry, pinned his gown with the fork to the coffin, and then imagined that it was a spirit which held him fast.” perfectly satisfied with this discovery, they quitted the dreary abode of death, and hastened next morning to their unfortunate friend, to communicate to him the solution of the mystery. he immediately took up his morn. ing-gown, and sure enough not only was there the expected hole, but the bit of cotton was found to fit it exactly. bernhardi was greatly rejoiced at the discovery of the delusion; but never perfectly recovered the use of the organs of speech. supposing bernhardi's friends had possessed less enterprise and resolution than were required for the cool investigation of the nature of the imaginary ghost, that is . to say, of the natural cause of the fright that overpowered him; what would then have been thought of this story ! the circumstance would certainly have been deemed inexplicable, and attributed to the operation of some evil spirit; and one generation would have repeated the tale to another with dismay and horror. or, supposing bernhardi had not stuck the fork deep enough into the coffin, so that, on retiring, he had pulled it out again with his morning-gown, without tearing the latter, what clue would there have been to the discovery of the real fact in this case his associates would probably have found the fork lying on the pavement of the vault, but would, have been unable to conceive how it came there, as their, comrade declared that he had stuck it in the coffin; for there, “the poor fellow, in his hurry, pinned his gown with the fork to the coffin.”—page 68. the fear of ghosts. 69 would have been no bit of cotton to explain the mystery. had they even possessed sufficient good sense to consider, that it is not always possible to detect the natural causes of effects vulgarly attributed to supernatural agency, still this would not have been sufficient to satisfy bernhardi, who, as long as he lived, would have firmly believed that an evil spirit had really held him fast by the coffin, and deprived him of speech as a punishment for his presumption. and, in truth, it was an evil spirit that occasioned his misfortune, namely the spirit of superstition and prejudice, which had been instilled into him in his infancy by the pernicious gossip of silly people. he afterwards acknowledged to his friends in writing, that he really imagined he could have gone without any emotion of fear into the vault, but, as he entered it, he was seized with a horror which convinced him too late that he had not yet wholly freed himself from the childish terrors of his early years. “happy,” added he, dropping a tear on the paper, “happy are they whose mothers and nurses have the good sense to avoid every thing that can sow in the tender infant mind the seeds of this superstitious fear, which all the arguments of reason cannot afterwards wholly eradicate 1” 70 the devil and the prussian grenadier. it is an old saying, that “the devil is not so black as he is painted.” this proverb receives confirmation from the following story, which shows that the appearance of his satanic majesty on earth may occasionally be attended with very agreeable consequences. in the year 1742, during the first silesian war, colonel de la motte fouqué, afterwards a prussian general, received orders from field-marshal schwerin to occupy the town of kremsir, in moravia, with his battalion of grenadiers. among other precautions which he adopted on taking possession of the place, he stationed a sentry upon the ramparts, not far from the house of a catholic priest. rumour had given a bad character to this quarter of the town ; and it was universally believed that the devil himself was frequently to be seen prowling about there. the prussian sentinel had ocular demonstration of the accuracy of this report on the very first night; for no sooner had the hour of spirits arrived, than the prince of darkness appeared, all in black, with horns, claws, and a long tail, and armed with a dung-fork. the grenadier posted at this place was a fearless veteran, who had long wished to fall in with his infernal majesty. instead of being dismayed and deserting his post, he calmly awaited the gradual approach of the sable figure, which seemed to take no notice of his chal§ § § -----> º § *ś §§ dant t w de l.cºwºre sc-t “he held him tightly grasped, regardless of the screams of agony which his nervous grasp extorted from the writhing demon.”—page 71. the devil and the grenadier. 71 lenge of “who's there f” advancing close to him, it held forth the three-pronged weapon, and in a fearful voice threatened him with instant death. conscious that he was engaged in the performance of his duty, the soldier was very little, if at all, alarmed. he coolly awaited the assault, parried the thrust of the dung-fork with his bayonet, and courageously seized his satanic opponent. he held him tightly grasped, regardless of the screams of agony which his nervous gripe extorted from the writhing daemon. some of his comrades, who were at hand, soon hastened to the assistance of the brave grenadier, and having secured old hornie, dragged him away to the nearest guard-house. next morning he was conducted in his infernal accoutrements, escorted by an immense crowd, through the town to the main-guard. finding himself subjected to a rigorous military examination, the devil had the condescension to answer in the humblest tone every question that was proposed. it came out that he was no other man than the catholic priest himself, before whose house the sentinel was posted. annoyed by the incessant challenges of the latter, he imagined that a protestant grenadier might be terrified as easily as the most superstitious of his own communion; but he was not so fortunate as to drive him from the vicinity of his habitation by the mask which he assumed. the other ecclesiastics of the town were aware that their indiscreet colleague had, by his masquerade, not only cast a stigma on his profession, but grossly offended against the laws of war; they, therefore, with all humility solicited his release, and voluntarily offered to pay any fine that might be imposed. colonel fouqué seized this opportunity of contributing 70 the devil and the prussian grenadier. it is an old saying, that “the devil is not so black as he is painted.” this proverb receives confirmation from the following story, which shows that the appearance of his satanic majesty on earth may occasionally be attended with very agreeable consequences. in the year 1742, during the first silesian war, colonel de la motte fouqué, afterwards a prussian general, received orders from field-marshal schwerin to occupy the town of kremsir, in moravia, with his battalion of grenadiers. among other precautions which he adopted on taking possession of the place, he stationed a sentry upon the ramparts, not far from the house of a catholic priest. rumour had given a bad character to this quarter of the town; and it was universally believed that the devil himself was frequently to be seen prowling about there. the prussian sentinel had ocular demonstration of the accuracy of this report on the very first night; for no sooner had the hour of spirits arrived, than the prince of darkness appeared, all in black, with horns, claws, and a long tail, and armed with a dung-fork. the grenadier posted at this place was a fearless veteran, who had long wished to fall in with his infernal majesty. instead of being dismayed and deserting his post, he calmly awaited the gradual approach of the sable figure, which seemed to take no notice of his chalthe devil and the grenadier. 71 lenge of “who's there f” advancing close to him, it held forth the three-pronged weapon, and in a fearful voice threatened him with instant death. conscious that he was engaged in the performance of his duty, the soldier was very little, if at all, alarmed. he coolly awaited the assault, parried the thrust of the dung-fork with his bayonet, and courageously seized his satanic opponent. he held him tightly grasped, regardless of the screams of agony which his nervous gripe extorted from the writhing damon. some of his comrades, who were at hand, soon hastened to the assistance of the brave grenadier, and having secured old hornie, dragged him away to the nearest guard-house. next morning he was conducted in his infernal accoutrements, escorted by an immense crowd, through the town to the main-guard. finding himself subjected to a rigorous military examination, the devil had the condescension to answer in the humblest tone every question that was proposed. it came out that he was no other man than the catholic priest himself, before whose house the sentinel was posted. annoyed by the incessant challenges of the latter, he imagined that a protestant grenadier might be terrified as easily as the most superstitious of his own communion; but he was not so fortunate as to drive him from the vicinity of his habitation by the mask which he assumed. the other ecclesiastics of the town were aware that their indiscreet colleague had, by his masquerade, not only cast a stigma on his profession, but grossly offended against the laws of war; they, therefore, with all humility solicited his release, and voluntarily offered to pay any fine that might be imposed. colonel fouqué seized this opportunity of contributing 74 ghost stories. striking likeness. it had been painted many years before at paris, in his younger days, and bore an extraordinary resemblance to his son. this box had been presented to him as a keepsake by the banker. he therefore imagined that he should gratify his old friend, by affording him a sight of this memento through the medium of his son, whose identity it would moreover serve to demonstrate. the young count, on his arrival at paris, repaired to what is called an hotel garni, till he should meet with more commodious lodgings. besides several other foreigners, he there found two englishmen, brothers, who had been his fellow-students at göttingen. this accidental circumstance, as well as the extremely elegant dinners and suppers furnished at this house, and the society of many highly polished and intelligent frenchmen who daily resorted thither, caused the count to defer from time to time the execution of his intention of seeking another lodging. one of the gentlemen whom the count here met at dinner, and for whom his susceptible heart soon conceived a particular friendship, was the baron de vigny. extraordinary talents and attainments, and the most amiable qualities, rendered this young man a delightful companion. it was not long before the count could not be happy without him, or he without the count: hence they were called, by their other acquaintance and friends, the inseparable; and this epithet would have been perfectly applicable in every respect, had not death, which heeds no attachment, but too soon parted them from one another. in their daily convivial parties they were accustomed to push about the bottle very briskly; but at night, in particular, they exceeded all bounds. on these occasions the ghost of count walkenried. 75 there was no want of the finest and strongest wines. the acquaintance of the french with the quality of their native productions enabled them to avoid the ill effects of this course of life, to which the german count fell a victim. he had never been what is termed a boon companion, and nothing but the persuasions of the others, and a wish to make himself agreeable to the rest of the party, caused him so far to exceed his ordinary limits, as to induce an inflammatory fever which terminated in his death. the count, who had been in no want of money, and whose whole time at paris had been occupied in pleasure and dissipation, had not even called on his father's old friend, the banker, to deliver the letter and to show him the snuff-box. his incoherent expressions during his delirium proved that this neglect lay heavy upon his mind in the last moments of his life. the baron de wigny was too sincere a friend to avoid the sick-bed of the suffering count, with whom, when in health, he had passed such happy days: during his illness, therefore, he visited him very often, and paid him the utmost attention. he laid, in particular, the strongest injunctions on the physicians who were called in, to neglect nothing that could tend to avert the danger of the disorder. he justly considered this attention as the most efficient, if not the only proof he could give of his attachment to the count; but unfortunately these demonstrations of friendship, and all the skill of the physicians, could not save the patient, and he fell into that sleep from which none wakes. the master of the hôtel sent for the physicien de quartier to inspect the deceased, and ascertain whether he was really dead. after the most careful examination, he assured him of the death of the count, and gave 76 ghost stories, him the certificate which is required at paris before a person can be interred. it is well known with what haste the remains of the deceased are usually committed to the earth in that city; and, agreeably to this practice, scarcely twenty-four hours after the count had breathed his last, his body was borne away early in the morning and consigned to the grave. the very next morning on which he was interred, the deceased count called personally on the banker to execute his father's commission, which he had neglected to fulfil in his lifetime. in the same clothes which he had worn during the last days of his health at paris, and attended by his trusty and disconsolate valet, the disembodied spirit of the deceased repaired, as count von walkenried, to the banker, to pay him his long-deferred introductory visit. the banker had never seen the count; but even if the latter had not mentioned his name, he would probably have recognised, in the spirit, at the first glance, the son of his old friend, so striking was his resemblance to his father. he received the ghost with all the politeness of a parisian, and begged him to walk into the parlour. here the spirit delivered to him his credentials, and his father's snuff-box, with the greatest solemnity, adding certain verbal communications which he had been instructed to make. the following dialogue ensued:— banker. there was no occasion, my dear m. le comte, for so many certificates to convince me that you are the son of my old friend. welcome, a thousand welcomes to you ! command everything that is in my power: in particular any money you want shall be at your disposal. ghost (with a grave and dignified obeisance). i the ghost of count walkenried. 77 thank you, sir, for your kind offers, and lament nothing more for my own sake, than that i cannot avail myself of them. banker. all the better, if your purse needs no assistance from me. you thus afford an excellent example, that a man may live up to his rank and yet be a good economist. i hope, however, to have the pleasure of serving you when you think of continuing your tour; but will you not do me the favour to take breakfast with me? ghost. i am exceedingly obliged to you, but i shall need nothing more in this world; for i died yesterday morning at michel's hotel, rue st. honoré, and was buried at three o'clock this morning. banker (shuffling back his chair). my dear count, you must be joking ! ghost. i am not joking, sir. among other motives for intruding upon you, i have to beg you to send back to my father this box, which was a present from you, with a request that he will accept it a second time from the hands of his deceased son as a memorial of him. banker (with increased alarm). but, my dear m. le comte, let me beg of you to recollect yourself. here you are bodily with me. how then can you be dead? ghost (without deigning to answer the skeptic, proceeding where he was interrupted). write to him also, that the disappointment of my ardent wish to see him once more in this world, to thank him for all his paternal kindness and affection, rendered my premature death particularly painful. banker (shuddering). but, my dear friend, is it possible that you can— ghost (depositing on the table two gold watches, a valuable diamond ring, and two hundred and fifty louis7's 80 ghost stories. the friend whom the count had found in the baron de vigny was, as it has already been observed, a man of acute understanding and of a lively disposition. but, what was still more remarkable, they were so like each other in figure and physiognomy, that a third person could only distinguish by the voice and dress which of the two stood before him. the two friends took advantage of this freak of nature to lead their acquaintance of both sexes into many droll mistakes, by exchanging clothes and names with one another. but the most serious of these deceptions suggested itself to m. de vigny, when his friend, on his death-bed, put into his hands his father's letter, with the snuff-box, purse, watches, and ring, and a verbal message, to be delivered to the banker. the reader knows how punctually this commission was executed. the count's valet supplied him with a suit of clothes of his deceased master's, which m. de vigny had put on to visit the banker, and which he meant to change immediately on his return. the banker had probably gone a shorter way, or the coachman who drove him had made greater haste, and thus he had reached the hôtel before the pretended ghost. m. michel knew nothing of this disguise, and was, therefore, not a little terrified when he saw m. de vigny, the very image of the deceased, enter the apartment in his clothes. how many chances there were, that, in so large a city as paris, this deception should have passed undiscovered what an argument it would then have afforded in favour of the belief in apparitions ! it cannot be too often repeated, that circumstances the most mysterious and unaccountable should not be pronounced supernatural and miraculous, because their natural causes happen to be concealed from our knowledge. the grost of count walkenried. 79 a most extraordinary resemblance between the father and the son. in this dilemma the banker drove forthwith to the hôtel where his visitor informed him that he had lived. he had no doubt that monsieur michel, who kept it, would be able to throw some light on this otherwise inexplicable affair. “my dear monsieur michel,” said he, “do you know the original of the miniature on this snuff-box” m. michel. certainly i do. the young count lived long enough in my house: there is not one of my lodgers and boarders but knew him. banker. the young mad count von walkenried. m. michel. mad l—no, no—the late count von walkenried from germany, who died here yesterday of an inflammatory fever, and who, according to our police regulations, was publicly buried early this morning. banker. surely you must be joking ! the same young count whom this portrait, with the exception of the old-fashioned dress, so strongly resembles, was not half an hour ago in my house, and brought me money and valuables to the amount of many thousand livres. before he had finished what he meant to say, m. michel started back in evident alarm, and the banker sunk fainting into a chair; for who should enter the room at that moment but the ghost himself! the latter was somewhat surprised and disconcerted on observing their terror. he intended that his part should finish when he, quitted the house of the banker, hoping to reach the hôtel before the latter. he sincerely begged his pardon for the trick which he had played him, to which he was, in some respect, authorized by nature, and assured him that he was neither the deceased count von walkenried nor his spectre. here follows the solution of the mystery. 80 ghost stories. the friend whom the count had found in the baron de wigny was, as it has already been observed, a man of acute understanding and of a lively disposition. but, what was still more remarkable, they were so like each other in figure and physiognomy, that a third person could only distinguish by the voice and dress which of the two stood before him. the two friends took advantage of this freak of nature to lead their acquaintance of both sexes into many droll mistakes, by exchanging clothes and names with one another. but the most serious of these deceptions suggested itself to m. de vigny, when his friend, on his death-bed, put into his hands his father's letter, with the snuff-box, purse, watches, and ring, and a verbal message, to be delivered to the banker. the reader knows how punctually this commission was executed. the count's valet supplied him with a suit of clothes of his deceased master's, which m. de vigny had put on to visit the banker, and which he meant to change immediately on his return. the banker had probably gone a shorter way, or the coachman who drove him had made greater haste, and thus he had reached the hôtel before the pretended ghost. m. michel knew nothing of this disguise, and was, therefore, not a little terrified when he saw m. de vigny, the very image of the deceased, enter the apartment in his clothes. how many chances there were, that, in so large a city as paris, this deception should have passed undiscovered what an argument it would then have afforded in favour of the belief in apparitions ! it cannot be too often repeated, that circumstances the most mysterious and unaccountable should not be pronounced supernatural and miraculous, because their natural causes happen to be concealed from our knowledge. 81 extraordinary confession of a ghost. the circumstances recorded in the following narrative are stated to have really happened. they are of so horrible a stamp that, for the honour of human nature, every reader must wish them to be fictitious. they are given in the form of a letter, the name of the writer of which is indicated only by the initial. yesterday—thus wrote m. de m . . . . to one of his friends,-yesterday, the pretty mademoiselle wildac was married to the amiable saintville. as a neighbour, i was invited to the festivities given on the occasion. but the merriment of the day was succeeded, as far as i was concerned, by a night of such horror as my pen can but faintly describe. you know old wildac, whose unlucky physiognomy was always so repulsive to us, and whom we were in consequence afraid to trust. i watched him narrowly yesterday, and fully expected that the joyous occasion of the marriage of his only daughter would relax his morose muscles, and plant a smile of satisfaction on his scowling visage. i was mistaken. instead of taking a paternal interest in the tender emotion of his child, and the rapture of his son-in-law, he seemed, on the contrary, to be displeased with the joy expressed in our faces; and this unnatural father had wellnigh spoiled, by his detestable temper, all the pleasures of the day both for his children and his guests. 82 * ghost stories. when bed-time arrived, 1 was shown, for want of a more commodious lodging, into a room in the great tower of the castle. scarcely had i closed my eyes before i was roused by a dull noise, as i thought, over-head. i listened, and distinctly heard the rattling of chains and . the sound of footsteps slowly descending the stairs. all at once my door flew open; a spectre entered, dragging along the chains, which clanked frightfully, went up to the fire-place, stirred the fire, and pushed together some half-extinguished brands. a hollow voice pronounced the words “”tis a long time since i warmed myself!” i confess, my friend,-for why should i deny it?—that. i was thrilled with horror. i seized my sword to defend myself in case of emergency, and softly drew aside the curtains of the bed. by the glimmer of the fire, i perceived the emaciated figure of what appeared to be a venerable old man, half naked, with bald head and a snowwhite beard. he was holding his hands, shivering with cold, to the fire. i was deeply moved. while i was thus surveying him, a flame now and then flickered from the embers. he looked thoughtfully towards the door by which he had entered, and then fixed his eyes steadfastly on the floor. he seemed to be absorbed in the profoundest grief, and traces of long misery were deeply imprinted upon his furrowed face. in a few minutes he sunk, as if involuntarily, on his tottering knees. he seemed to pray. the only words i could understand were: “o god! o god! how just are thy judgments ſ” i now purposely made some noise with my curtains. “is anybody here 7" asked he: “is anybody in this bed ” “yes,” said i, completely undrawing my curtains; “but who are you, old man 7" he sighed, and }ģae§§èè，|： ſae ， ! ， |-% \！\， , |× %， ----± |~~~~z%z·· ， !-|ſae（） · · “he seemed to be absorbed in the profoundest grief, and traces of misery were deeply imprinted on his furrowed face.”—page 82. confession of a ghost. 83 motioned with his hand, as if to signify that he was unable to speak for weeping. at length he became rather more composed. “i am the most wretched creature on the face of the earth,” said he “i ought, perhaps, to tell you no more; but it is so many years since i have beheld human beings, that joy at the sight of one of my fellowcreatures hurries me away in spite of myself. take compassion on me: my sufferings will perhaps seem less severe, when i have related them to you.” the terror which i had at first experienced now gave place to pity. i put on my morning-gown, and took a seat beside him. he seemed affected by this proof of my confidence, seized my hand, and bedeved it with his tears. “good man,” said he, “first satisfy my curiosity, and tell me why you have to-night taken up your abode in this odious apartment, which is usually unoccupied ? what was that extraordinary rattling of carriages which i heard this morning about the castle something out of the common course must have happened here.” i told him that the bustle had been occasioned by the nuptials of mademoiselle de wildac. “what l” said he, raising his hands, “has wildac a daughter 2 and is she married ? may the god of heaven bless her, and keep her heart pure—pure from the guilt of her progenitors : i am . . wildac, . . the grandfather of the young lady. . . i have a monster of a son—but no; i, his father, must not accuse him—i have no right to do so.” you may easily conceive, my friend, that my astonishment at this confession was unbounded. i knew that the father of our wildac had died and was buried twenty years ago, and now he suddenly appeared before me at midnight. i sprang from my seat, receded a few steps, 84 ghost stories. fixed my eyes steadfastly on the spectre, and attempted to speak, but could not. the question, “old man, are you really living, or are you a spectre?” quivered on my tongue, but i could not give it utterance. he read it, no doubt, in my looks. “it is not a spectre,” said he, “that you see before you, but a man who has been entombed alive. by the god of heaven, i am the living dead grandfather of the bride whose nuptials you have been celebrating. the base cupidity of my cruel son, and the hardness of his heart, which never knew the soft emotions of love and friendship, rendered him insensible to the voice of nature. he put me in chains, that he might seize my possessions. he had one day visited a neighbouring gentleman, whose father was recently dead: he found him among his tenants, receiving their rents and renewing their leases. this sight wildac devoured with greedy eye ; and it made the most baleful impression upon his heart, which had long cherished a wish to be master of the paternal estate. he now became more sullen and gloomy than ever. in about a fortnight, three men in masks burst one night into my chamber, and dragged me half naked to this tower. how wildac could give out that i was dead, i cannot tell; but, from the tolling of bells, and the sound of funeral hymns, i inferred that it was my own obsequies they were performing. this idea filled my soul with mortal anguish. i solicited, as the greatest of favours, permission to speak to wildac, but in vain. those who, for these twenty years, have brought me bread and water to prolong my wretched life, probably consider me as a criminal who is condemned to die in this tower. this morning i took notice that the man who brought my allowance neglected to fasten the door confession of a ghost. 85 securely. i waited anxiously for night, that i might avail myself of his carelessness. i must not escape; but the liberty of going a few steps farther than usual is a great treat to the inmate of a dungeon.” when i had somewhat recovered from my astonishment, my first thought was to release the unfortunate man from this horrid confinement. “in me,” said i to him, “the almighty has sent you a deliverer. all are now fast asleep in the castle; follow me. i will be your defender, your guide, your avenger.” instead of replying, he fell into a profound reverie. “my long separation from all human society,” he at length began, as if awakening from a dream, “has produced a total revolution in my sentiments and ideas. every thing depends on imagination. i am now familiarized with all that renders my situation severe and terrible: why should i exchange it for any other. the die is cast: i will terminate my wretched career in this tower.” this melancholy meditation, this contempt of liberty, this most unexpected language, combined with other expressions, caused me to suspect some deeply-hidden secret, and yet i knew not how to reconcile all these things. in short, the whole affair was to me quite incomprehensible. the old man, however, diminished my astonishment, when he thus proceeded:—“in regard to the few days that i have yet to live, liberty has no charms for me. if my son is an atrocious villain, his innocent daughter has never done me any harm. shall i pursue her into the arms of her husband with the disgrace of her family no; rather would i press her to my heart and bedev her with my tears. but never, never must i, shall i behold her farewell! the day begins to dawn. i must return to my tomb.” … 8 86 ghost stories. i opposed his intention, and declared that i would not suffer him to go. “oppression,” said i, “ has only impaired the faculties of your soul; but i will rouse your torpid spirits. let us not now consider whether you ought to make yourself known; it will be time enough for that by-and-by. the first thing to be done is to quit this place of horror. my château, my influence, and my purse, are at your service. if you desire it, not a creature shall know who you are, and wildac's crime shall remain an inviolable secret. can you now have any objection ?” “i am thankful for your kindness; would to god i could avail myself of it ! but i cannot, must not go.” “well, then, stay here; but i will acquaint the governor of the province with your melancholy situation, and we will then release you by force from the tyranny of your unnatural son.” “for heaven's sake, make not an improper use of my horrid secret. leave a monster like me to perish here ! i am unworthy of the liberty you offer. i have to atone for the most execrable, the most unnatural deed that villain ever perpetrated. look here: with horror this accursed hand points to it;—look at the stains of blood. it is the blood of my father, murdered by me—me, infernal monster l—that i might obtain the earlier possession of the paternal inheritance. ha! the image of my expiring parent still haunts me. see, his blood-stained arms are still affectionately extended to snatch me from the brink of hell—now, now, they drop ! o father, father! thy avenger is despairl” during this rhapsody, the old man sunk on the floor, and tore the few silvery hairs that time had left on his aged head. his convulsions were frightful; he did not venture to look me in the face—while i, for my part, was confession of a ghost. 87 absolutely petrified. after a pause of horror not to be described, we heard something stirring; it began also to be light. the old man, as if exhausted by the vehemence of his emotions, rose slowly from the floor. “you are filled with just abhorrence of me,” said he. “farewell ! forget, if you can, that you have ever seen me. i shall now return to my tomb, and i vow never to quit it more.” i was utterly incapable of replying, or of moving from the spot. the castle, and every object in it, now excited a horror that i could not conquer; i left it very early in the morning, and am at this moment preparing to set out for another of my estates. i hope to god that i shall never more behold the avenging instrument employed by providence, nor can i even bear to reside in his neighbourhood. the willage apparition. a true story. the minister of a small village in germany had been six weeks in possession of his new parsonage. he had duly visited his new neighbours; the domestic arrangements were completed; and his accounts with the . widow of his predecessor were finally adjusted. pleased at the termination of this important business, which, owing to the integrity of both parties, had been transacted without the intervention of lawyers, the pastor left his study, delivered the parcel containing the balance which he had yet to pay, to be forwarded to the widow, and then seated himself under the lime-trees which overhung the entrance of his habitation. here he was soon joined by his affectionate wife; they entered into conversation on the cheering prospect which promised them a decent provision, and the approach of those parental joys which they had not yet tasted. a country blooming as a garden was extended before them. after a long succession of sultry days, a storm about noon had cooled the atmosphere. all nature had assumed a fresher appearance; the flowers were attired in gayer colours, and exhaled more fragrant perfumes; the soft breeze wantoned about the glowing cheek of the husbandman, who, summoned by the evening bell, slowly returned with his implements to the peaceful cots of his village. “dear dorothy,” said the pastor, when his wife rose the willage apparition. 89 w to make preparations for supper, “the heat from the past sultry weather is still very perceptible in the house. suppose we take our supper this evening here under the lime-trees : we shall thus have an opportunity of airing the house thoroughly, and shall enjoy the beauty of the evening an hour longer in the open air.” “you take the word out of my mouth,” replied his wife. “the evening, indeed, is too fine, and we shall certainly relish the pigeons, which are at the fire, and a nice sallad, as well again here as in the close rooms.” no sooner said than done. with cheerful industry dorothy hastened to the kitchen; the pastor fetched the table and chairs, laid the cloth, and even brought a bottle of wine out of the cellar. according to his general custom, this indulgence was reserved for sundays or particular occasions; but this day, when, as the reader has been informed, he had so happily terminated the business of settling his accounts, seemed to him worthy of being made an exception: it was an important day for him, as it was not till now that he felt himself completely installed in his office and habitation. dorothy soon made her appearance with the pigeons, and she, with her husband and his sister, who had followed them to lend her assistance in removing, and in their new domestic arrangements, sat down to the rural repast. it was seasoned by cheerful conversation and innocent mirth, whilst a late nightingale charmed their ears with his strains, and the worthy pastor quaffed the generous beverage out of a goblet on which, as an heir-loom of his grandfather's, he set a particular value, till the joyous tone of his mind was plainly expressed in his countenance. thus the night stole upon them almost without their perceiving its approach. dorothy was going to fetch a candle, but s* 90 ghost stories. her husband detained her. “the evening, to be sure, is still fine,” said he, “but the air grows cooler. you know, dorothy, that you must take care of yourself. as soon as i have finished this glass, we will all go in together.” scarcely had the pastor finished speaking— scarcely had dorothy taken her seat again, when all at once both the females started up with shrieks of terror. the pastor looked about, and to his utter astonishment an apparition stood beside him. it was a tall, elegant figure. the face, of exquisite beauty, seemed tinged with the roseate glow of evening; a rose-bud decorated its hair, which flowed in charming ringlets over a neck of snowy whiteness; a robe of azure blue, studded with stars of gold, covered its form; an effulgence resembling sunbeams encircled the angelic vision, which, with a look of inexpressible sweetness, seemed to invite the pastor to follow it. the two ladies, as the reader has been already informed, had flown from their seats. the divine, attracted by the enchanting appearance of the phantom, rose and followed it. his wife and sister would have detained him, but he disengaged himself. when, however, the figure, moving on before him, directed its course towards the churchyard, his wife once more went up to him, clasped him in her arms, and entreated him with such earnestness and alarm to proceed no farther, that, in consideration of her state, he desisted from his intention. he turned back with her, promising not to follow the apparition; but he could not help asking, over and over again, how she could be afraid of a being, which, so far from having any thing terrifying about it, rather looked like an angel from heaven, whose invitations could only be designed for some good purpose. both stopped before |“the ladies started with affright from their seats, but the pastor, a courageous man, followed the apparit on.”—page 90. the willage apparition. 91 the house-door, and watched the spirit, which proceeded to the wall of the churchyard, rose to the top of it, and disappeared. the consequences of this adventure were, however, far from agreeable to the worthy pastor. the report of it was soon spread with various additions over the whole country; the minister acquired the character of a visionary, and the neighbouring clergy, at the mention of his name, would turn up their noses, significantly shrug their shoulders, and talk a great deal about swedenborg, schröpfer, and co.; nay, there were persons ill-natured enough to express their conviction, that the phantom was created by the wine alone. the superintendent himself, who came a few weeks afterwards to introduce the pastor to his new congregation, when the other guests had retired after the dinner given on the occasion, began to make very circumstantial inquiries concerning the health of his host. “you are a man,” continued he, “who are fond of the sciences, who have little domestic occupation, and, on account of the sequestered situation of the place, cannot expect much society. under these circumstances, i am afraid that you will stick too closely to your books and your writing-table, neglect that exercise which is so essentially necessary, and thus lay the foundation of those numberless complaints, which sooner or later are the attendants of hypochondria. let me persuade you to avoid this, my dear colleague. rather take abundance of exercise, and consider your studies as a medium of conveying aliment to your mind and assuaging your thirst of knowledge, but which should by no means be purchased at the expense of your health and cheerfulness.” “i can assure your reverence,” replied the pastor, “that i have nothing to fear from the attacks of melan92 ghost stories. choly. i delight in rambling abroad to enjoy the beauties of nature, and the charming environs of this place present irresistible inducements to me to gratify this inclination. i am likewise very fond of gardening, with which i amuse myself several hours a-day. i sleep well, and my digestion is good. i have a flow of spirits that very rarely fails me, and i cultivate the sciences in such a manner that they rather afford me matter for recreation, and consequently for pleasure, than for gloomy meditations.” “ah! yes,” rejoined the superintendent, “this is always the language of you gentlemen; but such diseased persons are in the most dangerous way as fancy that they ail nothing. beware, my dear friend, and let me recommend to you plenty of exercise and a due proportion of medicine.” our clergyman now began to imagine, that there must be some particular reason for these exhortations. after pausing for some time, he thus addressed his visitor:— “i am infinitely obliged to your reverence for the interest you take in my health; but it appears to me that you must have some particular motive for your well-meant advice, and therefore earnestly entreat you to favour me with an explanation.” “well, then,” answered the superintendent, “if you wish to know the real truth, i will tell you: i am informed you believe in the appearance of spirits. i have received such positive assurances of this fact, and from such respectable sources, that i cannot have any doubt on the subject. i have far too good an opinion of your understanding to seek the reason of it there, and must, of course, attribute it to some of those obstructions which at times operate so powerfully on the imaginations of persons possessing the strongest minds.” the willage apparition. 93 the matter was now perfectly clear to our divine. he perceived that the report of the apparition had reached the metropolis, and had occasioned the marked behaviour of the superintendent, but from which business had before prevented him from paying so much attention as he had done on this day. he therefore related to him the whole affair with the utmost fidelity and simplicity, and added,—“it could not be an optical deception; for whence could it have proceeded in a lonely village, so far from any high road neither could it have been any delusion of the senses; for the figure was not only seen at the same moment, and watched till its disappearance, by himself, but likewise by my wife, my sister, neighbour a.’s man, and neighbour b.’s maid, who all give the same description of it. what it was, or what it meant, whence it came, or whither it went, i know not, and i can do no more than repeat hamlet's common-place observation, so often quoted on similar occasions:—‘there are many things between heaven and earth which were never dreamt of by our philosophy.’” the superintendent smiled, shook his head, and said no more ; but next morning, as he mounted his chaise, he could not forbear calling once more to the pastor—“remember the conversation we had yesterday, and my good advice. plenty of exercise,” &c. &c. the pastor bowed with a smile, which expired on his lips, as if suddenly checked by a sharp twitch of the toothache. one day, in the summer of 17—, a stranger came to me, and delivered a letter from the lady of general m., who informed me in it, that “the bearer, mr. sº, was an artist of great skill in optical deceptions, and who, in several exhibitions at h., had given great satisfaction to the public. as he intended to exhibit the same at c., 94 ghost stories. she should consider herself obliged if i would endeavour to promote the views of mr. s., whom she was particularly anxious to serve.” mr. s., who was a man of considerable talents and prepossessing manners, soon found means to interest me in his favour, and i prevailed upon my father to allow him the use of a large empty apartment in the mansion in which we resided. as this apartment was upon the same floor with my room, i could not help having almost hourly occasions of seeing and speaking to the artist whilst employed in making his various arrangements. sometimes he explained to me this or that part of his apparatus; at others he entertained me with an account of his travels, his residence in the principal cities of germany, and his various adventures. thus, among other things, he related to me what follows:— “in one of my journeys from dresden to frankfurt, i took it into my head to visit the beautiful valley of a. i therefore turned off from the high road, but about noon was overtaken by a storm, and obliged to stop at a village, because my automata had got wet under the canvas which covered my carriage. whilst i was drying them, i availed myself of the opportunity to clean my mirrors, and was just going to pack up my apparatus again, when my wife pointed out to me a party, consisting, as i afterwards learned, of the minister of the place and two females, who were supping under the shade of the limetrees before the door of the parsonage. in a fit of playful humour, she persuaded me to dish up an apparition, as a dessert for the company; and, as the parsonage was exactly opposite to my room on the ground floor of the inn, and only at a moderate distance, as the windows were low, and the party remained till late, i could not have had a better opportunity for complying with the the willage apparition. 95 wish of my frolicsome wife. i directed my mirror, and sent over a figure which i intended them to see. the ladies started with affright from their seats, but the pastor, a courageous man, followed the apparition, till one of the ladies, probably his wife, pulled him back, and i made the figure disappear at the wall of the churchyard. this event raised a great noise in the village. as i had entered the inn-yard by the back way, i had been noticed by but few persons; on account of my puppets, i had kept my door locked; there were no children in the house, and at the time the apparition was seen, my host and his people, who took me for a dealer in toys, were engaged in housing a wagon-load of hay which had come in very late. i had therefore plenty of time to remove my apparatus, and thus to obviate all suspicion of my having any hand in the affair. the apparition was regarded as supernatural, and several of the inhabitants who talked over the subject, under my window, were of opinion, that it was a token of a death that would speedily happen at the parsonage, not only because the apparition had directed its course from that place to the churchyard, but also because the pastor's wife was, for the first time, in the family way. “i know not how it happened,” continued mr. s., “that i purposely left these people in their error. i well knew how to appreciate the moral object of such phantasmagoric exhibitions; namely, to form delusive figures by the aid of optics, and by explaining the natural means employed for the purpose, to destroy the belief in supernatural appearances: i knew, moreover, that no man can calculate the consequences of an action, and it was therefore doubly my duty to clear up the matter as soon as the danger of my deception was exhibited in pretty strong 96 ghost stories. colours by those superstitious expressions. notwithstanding all this, i left the people in their absurd notions; and the mischief which i may have then occasioned still sometimes lies heavy upon my heart.” “as for this cause of uneasiness,” i replied, “i am glad to have it in my power to relieve you from it. the family of the pastor of a. still enjoys good health; instead of having diminished, it has been increased by three robust, hearty boys; and the character of a visionary, which he acquired, may now be done away by the very natural explanation of this occurrence. at the same time it may serve to convince him and his colleagues, that it is extremely silly to maintain, because we cannot account for any particular circumstance, that it must necessarily be inexplicable.” 97 the haunted castle. baron de bretiole, a colonel in the danish service, was ordered by the king to proceed with all possible despatch, on a secret mission to the fortress of rendsborg. he set off without delay to execute the commands of his majesty, attended by one of his most trusty servants. unaccustomed in such cases to heed any inconvenience, he disregarded fogs and darkness, tempests and rain. on this occasion, however, he was obliged to yield to circumstances. a tremendous storm, profound darkness, and the badness of the road, compelled him reluctantly to stop at a small village. at this place there was no inn, but only a pot-house, where nothing either to eat or drink was to be had, and where the very sight of the bed was sufficient to take away drowsiness. bretiole, as a soldier, had long since learned, in case of emergency, to make shift with a bundle of straw for his couch; but fasting was a thing to which he could not so easily reconcile himself. “is there no gentleman's house in this village 2" asked he.—“no:” was the reply.—“no parsonage either ?”— “oh, yes.—“are you on good terms with the parson 7" —“yes: he is a very worthy, excellent man.”—“john, go to the parsonage, and inquire if we can have a lodging there to-night.” the clergyman, a man of hospitable disposition, and not without breeding, cheerfully promised to accommodate him, and the colonel would have 9 98 ghost stories. been equally welcome, even though he had not been a favourite of the king's, and travelling on a special commission. his host seasoned the simple repast prepared in haste with agreeable conversation, and the colonel ordered one bottle after the other of the wine that he had brought with him to be fetched out. the conversation turned, among other things, on the ancient castle situated in the village. throughout the whole country, far and wide, it had the character of being haunted by blood-thirsty spirits. not a creature passed it without feeling a secret horror, and ejaculating a prayer. bretiole, who never believed in real ghosts, but had long wished for a rencounter with reputed spectres, resolved to avail himself of this first opportunity that occurred for gratifying his curiosity, and therefore requested the ecclesiastic to permit him to sleep in the castle. his host entreated him, for heaven's sake, to relinquish his design. “i have no doubt,” said he, “that you are superior to the popular notions concerning apparitions; but consider, colonel, that your temerity will infallibly cost you your life. you are not the first man of courage whose melancholy ſate we have had occasion to deplore. of all those who have hitherto ventured to pass the night in this fatal castle, there is no one but has been carried away by the evil spirits, either natural or supernatural. why will you wantonly expose yourself to dangers which even the bravest and stoutest heart, owing to the inequality of the contest, cannot hope to surmount º’’ the colonel, nevertheless, adhered to his resolution, trusting to the approved excellence of his pistols. “as i am travelling on his majesty's business,” thought he, “i may certainly venture to show any spirit that approaches too near me how well i can hit my mark.” the haunted castle. 99 the worthy divine, whose eloquence was incapable of shaking his determination, parted from him with evident emotion, persuaded that he should never more behold him alive. “god be with you !” emphatically cried he, more than once. bretiole, on the other hand, hastened with youthful impatience to the castle: he carried the lantern himself, while his servant and the parson's man followed with bed and bedding. close to the entrance into the deserted castle, of which owls and mice seemed to be the only tenants, there was on the right a staircase which conducted into the great hall on the first floor. this hall had two doors leading into two contiguous rooms, one of which, being that nearest to the staircase, the colonel selected for his bed-chamber. he ordered two candles to be lighted, and, by way of precaution, had the lantern also placed near his bed. the parson’s man was overwhelmed with fright; cold perspiration covered his brow, and he trembled in every joint. he earnestly entreated that the colonel's servant might accompany him with the lantern to the outer door of the castle, or he should certainly die. the colonel himself went with him, and then, having carefully charged his pistols, and laying his drawn sword by his side, he retired to bed without undressing. about eleven o'clock he was roused by a tremendous noise. it was as though a regiment of hussars was entering the castle on horseback and marching upstairs, trailing their clattering sabres after them. none but the most determined slanderer could have charged the colonel with cowardice; but he acknowledged, himself, that at this moment he felt a sensation more unpleasant than he had ever before experienced. it seemed as if some one was pouring a bucket of cold water over him; his hair 100 ghost stories. began to stand on end, and he trembled all over. the appalling din lasted for some time, and gradually approached his chamber. seizing his sword with his right hand, and a pistol with his left, the colonel boldly awaited the assault. all at once, the door flew open as if by enchantment. at the terrific appearance of the spectre which entered, bretiole's nerveless hands dropped the sword and pistol; for, to his inexpressible horror and astonishment, the moment the hideous apparition met his sight both candles were extinguished, but by what means he was utterly at a loss to conceive. the figure had fiery eyes, roared like an enraged lion, and rattled glowing chains. an infernal uproar now commenced over head: it seemed as if a hundred cannon-balls were rolling to and fro. presently was heard a dismal howling and mewing, as though from a thousand dogs and cats; and the neighing of horses swelled the hellish concert. all at once there was a stunning report resembling that of a twenty-four pounder. this was succeeded by the harmonious chime of bells, and, last of all, was heard a piercing shout of victory ! a death-like silence ensued. the colonel lay like one inanimate. the spectre thumped him and his servant unmercifully, and beat them both with chains. it retired, and descended the stairs with a prodigious clatter. the colonel, who had been only taken by surprise, and who was not deficient either in presence of mind or firmness, soon recovered himself. “if this spectre be a man,” thought he to himself, “he must certainly have protected his body against steel and bullets; but if it be a spirit, neither sword nor pistol will be able to make any impression upon it. should the ghastly figure return, i will muster courage and softly follow ----ith lights.”—page 101. lm wº at the report, four sturdy fellows approached h the haunted castle. 101 it as it retires.” in this design he so confirmed himself, that he was resolutely bent on executing it, let the consequences be what they might. in about an hour the goblin again came up stairs with as frightful a noise as before. bretiole, whose heart was in the right place, was not to be driven from his purpose. he patiently submitted to the discipline which the hideous being again bestowed on him and his servant. at length it rushed out at the door with the same clattering and clanking noise which accompanied its entrance. the colonel, true to his purpose, involuntarily grasped a pistol and cautiously pursued the spectre. seemingly aware of his intention, it retired with its face towards him, so that its fiery eyes served him instead of a lantern. the flaming spectre suddenly disappeared: all around was now dark as pitch, and bretiole was obliged to pause. he had previously imagined that he could hear that the spectre was preceded by several persons, the sounds of whom suddenly ceased before he lost sight of the figure. at the same time he heard his servant above, shrieking and howling in the most lamentable manner. hundreds, had they been in the place of our hero, would long ere this have been heartily sick of the nocturnal adventure, and after the first departure of the spectre would have quitted the haunted castle for ever. bretiole, however, was not yet daunted. without farther consideration he formed the desperate resolution of pursuing his way along the dark passage till he should reach the end of it. scarcely had he proceeded a few paces, when down he sunk into an abyss. at the bottom of it he fortunately found himself on a heap of hay and straw. in the fall he had involuntarily pulled the trigger of his pistol, which was cocked, and fired. at the report, four 9* 102 ghost stories. sturdy fellows approached him with lights. “audacious dog ſ” cried one of them, “how darest thou to presume to come hither ?” they seized him by the arms, and dragged him like a criminal into a room where upwards of twenty persons, some of whom seemed to be of the higher class, were seated round a table. the apartment was elegantly furnished, and adorned with costly tapestry. the eyes of all were instantly fixed upon him; and they seemed to be not less astonished at his appearance than he was at theirs. “rash man "at length said one of them, “what hath induced thee to come to this castle has no one warned thee, no one told thee that thy temerity would infallibly cost thee thy life? prepare to die—for die thou must.” “die " replied bretiole; “i swear by the king that ye will pay dearly for my death !” “away with the impudent dog!” cried another: “we will show him that we heed not his threats.” at these words, the four fellows again seized him, and shut him up in a dark, narrow dungeon. the colonel was by this time thoroughly convinced that he was not among spectres, but among men who were here assembled on some important but mysterious business. he perceived a ray of light which penetrated his prison by a knot-hole in the door. he clapped his ear to this aperture, and could hear his judges debating how the danger which menaced them from his intrusion could best be averted. some voted, without hesitation, for the death of the adventurer; but others were of a different opinion. at length it was . agreed that he should be again brought before them and examined, and then they would consider of his sentence. the colonel acquainted them with his rank, the object of his journey, and his motive for passing the night in the haunted castle. . 103. the castle: he acknowledged, unasked, that the parson had urgently dissuaded him from an encounter with the spirits which haunted this place, and stated the motives for his advice. “for the rest,” he continued, “i leave it for your consideration, gentlemen, whether my death or my life is likely to be more dangerous to you. for my part, i am of opinion that the first would, and for these reasons. i am the bearer of despatches from the king, the forwarding of which to their destination is of far greater importance than my life. here are those despatches, sealed, as you see, with the royal seal. the clergyman of this place and his family know that i have taken up my lodging in this castle. if you deprive me of life, or merely of liberty, i shall instantly be missed, and the king, whose especial favour i am happy enough to possess, will not fail to command the inmost recesses of this castle to be ransacked, and the motives of your presence here, be they what they may, will inevitably be brought to light. i am a gentleman, and if i am not mistaken, there are among you persons who are my equals in that respect. these must know that i may be relied on when i pledge my word of honour never to betray the secret of this castle. should you, however, deem an oath more binding than my word of honour, i am ready to swear.” the judges looked at one another, seemingly at a loss what to reply, till at length a blood-thirsty wretch broke silence and said, in a firm tone, “for my part, i think this fellow only wishes to lull us to sleep with his smooth tongue. m.y advice is, that he be put to death without farther del y.” “i am of the same opinion,” cried a second. “and so am i,’” said a third. “take him away,” said the president of this infernal tribunal. the judges were for some time engaged in 104 ghost stories. vehement discussion, but the majority were not only for sparing the colonel's life, but also for setting him at liberty, on his giving his word of honour; and their opinion ultimately prevailed. bretiole awaited the final result of this long consultation in his prison. as a man, he could not hear this decision of his fate from the lips of the subterraneous president without evident demonstrations of the greatest joy. he was now dismissed in the politest manner. two of the attendants accompanied him to the passage through which he had come in the dark, and conducted him by a secret door to the staircase where he had commenced his pursuit of the spectre. the colonel thanked heaven that he had got off with a whole skin, and hastened to his servant, whom he found half dead with fright on his bed. the sight of his master revived the faithful fellow like a cordial; and both hastened from the den of murderers to the parsonage. the clergyman had been unable to sleep a wink for anxiety, and he was transported with delight, when, contrary to his expectations, he beheld the colonel in his house again alive. some years after this event, bretiole, who had meanwhile been appointed privy-councillor, was residing on his estate in jutland. he was just entertaining a party of the neighbouring gentry, when a servant entered and informed him that a groom, with three led horses, desired particularly to speak to him. bretiole went out, and the groom delivered to him a letter, saying, that it was a present from some gentlemen of his acquaintance. putting the bridles of two exquisitely beautiful chestnut horses into the hand of his attendant, the groom darted away with the other like a bird. the letter, which enclosed the haunted castle. 105 a finely executed gold medal of the value of twenty ducats, contained the following passage: “the subterraneous society which you once fell in with is dissolved, and therefore releases you from your promise and oath. it admires your silence, for which it is desirous of expressing to you its acknowledgments. the enclosed medal will enable you to guess its object, and though you know none of its members, either by name or rank, still they cannot deny themselves the pleasure of presenting to you the two horses sent herewith as a token of their esteem.” with a lightened heart bretiole related to his guests the whole adventure, and all did him the justice to declare that the pranks of these coiners were so artfully devised, and so cleverly executed, that every one of them in his place would, in his first fright, have been convinced that he had seen a real spectre. 106 the green mantle of wenice. a true story. the counting-house of mr. mellinger was haunted: of that fact, tobias, the old man-servant, entertained no doubt, and often told rosina, the housekeeper, though under the strictest injunction of the most sacred silence, that in the middle of the night he heard noises in it; that the great ledgers were opened and shut; that the ghost went about slipshod, and that he could frequently distinguish the jingling of money. the house had been a nunnery; the first floor was occupied by mr. mellinger, who had fitted it up at considerable expense; his business was confined to the groundfloor, and the exterior and all the rest were left in their original state; partly from motives of economy, and partly because his only daughter, emmeline, who found in it something romantic, had petitioned that the solemn gloom of the antiquated cloisters might remain inviolate. her good taste had preserved the dark cells, and the whole arrangement of this portion of the building proclaimed the young and lovely owner a little visionary;-not that she affected to be thought so, for there could not be a more natural character than that of emmeline. her education had been one of the utmost artlessness, and, ignorant of the real world, no wonder if her glowing fancy created one of its own. she had lost her mother at an early age, and her father was so occupied with his two the green mantle of wenice. 107 millions of dollars, that it was impossible for him to attend much even to his only child. he had left her to the care of the ursulines; and thus, in a life of the utmost retirement and tranquillity, she reached her eighteenth year. she had learned all that became her age and station, and so perfect was the holy innocence of her heart, that it would have cost her very little to devote herself for ever to a cloister. mr. mellinger had an old housekeeper, whom repeated acts of gross dishonesty obliged him to discharge ; in her stead he engaged rosina, a young woman of excellent character, and fetched his daughter from the convent to place her at the head of his domestic affairs. the report of her beauty soon spread far and wide. as yet mr. mellinger had entertained no company; but now aunts, cousins, uncles, and relations from all parts of the city, endeavoured to gain a sight of her ; for they thought that the young lady with a fortune of two millions of dollars would be no bad match for some member of their families, either old or young. she was invited to dinners, suppers, balls, and concerts : her father could no longer resist their importunities, and emmeline at once emerged from her monastic retirement into what is called the world; but gay feasts, splendid entertainments, and the homage which, in a thousand forms, was paid to her charms, made not the slightest impression on her mind, or change in her nature. she knew not that she was either rich or beautiful. her father, however, was well aware of the objects they had in view—it did not escape him that the heavenly maiden and the godlike gold were what they sought: it required but little penetration to see through their designs, and with great skill he contrived to keep them at a distance without giving offence. at 108 ghost stories. night, after returning from a party, it was his custom to pass all the company in review before his daughter; and so skilful was he in the art of ridicule, that there was scarcely a hair of their heads that was not pulled to pieces. so agreeable was his talent in this way, that emmeline took more pleasure in listening to his criticisms, than in the conversation and amusements of the company itself. she had often heard that her father was a man of the most acute penetration, and that he had no equal in the knowledge of mankind: when, therefore, she again saw those of whom he had spoken, she recognised the truth of all his observations. half a year had scarcely passed, when emmeline laughed at everybody; consequently, all who were not absolute devotees to her charms or her fortune drew back, while the car of her triumph was followed only by silly wights, to whose sighs she would not condescend to listen, but who nevertheless incessantly assailed her with amorous effusions in prose and verse. in proportion as she had been admired before, people now began to cool in her praise. the first stone was cast by daughters and mothers, among whom her beautiful face, "er large expressive eyes, her noble carriage, her glittering jewels, the eternal variety of her apparel, made a thousand enemies. but still more bitter even than these were the suitors whose devotions had been despised, and whose vows she had rejected. yet emmeline was ignorant of the cause of this alteration: the mothers were still courteous, the daughters civil, and the sons flattering; but she missed the hearty, open, and sincere attachment which she had found among the honest, affectionate ursulines in the days of her youth. within the walls that separated her from the world, no one enthe green mantle of venice. 109 vied her, no one was ridiculed by her; there she possessed the love of all, and nowhere else did she feel happy but there and in her solitary chamber. this was exactly what mr. mellinger wished: his plan completely succeeded. she became weary of the tedious intercourse of heartless crowds, and returned to her housekeeping, her books, her instruments, and her flowers. the father was not at a loss for a son-in-law. he had been connected for many years with the wealthy venetian merchant, sponseri, whose only son, equal in fortune to emmeline, having been bred to business under his father, was now about to enter a foreign counting-house. old sponseri, who had a speculative head, well knew the good circumstances of mr. mellinger: he knew, too, that he had an only daughter, whose age corresponded with that of his son; that his widely-extended trade was an instructive school for a young merchant; and that mr. mellinger had already sent into the world some very apt scholars. he therefore made the proposal that his son should serve in mr. mellinger's counting-house for a few years without salary; and it was accepted the more willingly, not only because he should thus save the expense of a clerk, but in the hope that young sponseri and his daughter emmeline might in time form a matrimonial connection, and thus a business be established with a capital of not less than four millions. he therefore dismissed one of his clerks on the receipt of intelligence from venice, that young sponseri would in a short time have the honour to wait upon him in person. “man proposes, but god disposes;” and in this instance it was ordered that the fathers should be disappointed in their project. thus matters stood at the time when rosina imparted * 10 110 ghost stories. to emmeline the intelligence which she had received from old tobias under a promise of the strictest secrecy, regarding the strange noises he had heard in the counting-house. emmeline listened to her with great attention: in spite of her cultivated understanding, many superstitious notions of supernatural things still clung to her, owing to her monastic education; and she could not overcome a certain anxiety produced by rosina's story. on reflection, she considered whether it was not possible that some imposition might thus be attempted. the counting-house had originally been the oratory of the abbess: it adjoined the church, which was still used for public worship, and was separated from it only by an iron door, furnished with three stout bolts and locks. one of the bolts and two of the locks could be opened from the counting-house, and the others from the church: if, therefore, any of the servants had an understanding with the sexton, nothing would be easier than to enter the counting-house, and to do just as they pleased. the doorway should have been bricked up long ago, but it had not been agreed, when mr. mellinger bought the nunnery, who should defray the expense : it had therefore remained in statu quo, as mr. mellinger would not lay out a shilling more than he could help. emmeline had promised rosina not to mention a word about the supposed ghost to any person whatever; but she now considered it her duty to communicate the matter to her father, that he might investigate it more minutely. her father laughed at her, as well he might, for it was he himself, who, after midnight, had been heard slipshod in the counting-house. there was a secret staircase, known to no one else, from his chamber, formerly occupied by the abbess, into the old chapel, now converted into a the green mantle of venice. 111 counting-house. in the niche in the counting-house was a kneeling figure of the patroness of the convent, st. clara, with her hands crossed upon her breast, and this niche was the secret door of the staircase. rich people seldom sleep soundly, and mr. mellinger formed no exception to the rule: at dead of night, therefore, he not unfrequently stole into his counting-house, to look over his books, and count his cash, and to see that none of his clerks had been negligent or dishonest. however, he gave no explanation on the subject to emmeline, and satisfied her as to his laughter, by the assurance that old tobias must have been dreaming. he never anticipated that the very next night his sentiments on this subject would be totally changed. four weeks had now elapsed since the arrangement had been made respecting young sponseri. mr. mellinger began, from the delay, to apprehend that something had happened to him: and that very afternoon he had written to the father, to acquaint him with his fears. at night he could not sleep, and as usual went down into his counting-house, and was turning over his books and papers, when the iron cross that had served for a knocker to the door ever since the time when the building was a nunnery, gave three such thundering raps, which reverberated through the lofty vaulted apartments, that old tobias sprung out of bed, and verily believed that it could be none but the devil himself who made such a disturbance. he hastened with all possible speed to the housedoor, opened it, and holding up a lantern, would have cried out with a loud voice, “who is there 7” but that a death-pale figure, enveloped in a green mantle, stared him in the face, and the horror-struck tobias was convinced that he beheld a living corpse. 112 ghost stories. the green mantle, without uttering a word, entered the house, and proceeding, as if he had known all the passages, to the door of the counting-house, struck upon it three times so loudly that the whole building again reechoed. mr. mellinger trembled: the previous knocking at the house-door at so unseasonable an hour had alarmed him, and he had hurried up to his chamber for the key of the counting-house, that he might open it and see who it could be that so impetuously demanded admission. at the very moment when he was turning the key in the lock, the three heavy blows dealt on the outside of the solid door plated with iron made his heart sink within him, and he recollected what emmeline had told him in the morning about the nocturnal visitor. when the green mantle perceived that the door was not fastened within, he opened it, stalked into the counting-house, and, without uttering a word, held forth a letter to mr. mellinger, who, at the first glimpse of the deathly visage, was utterly dismayed. he took it with a trembling hand, and found that it was from old sponseri, introducing the bearer as his son guilielmo. during the reading, mr. mellinger recovered a little; he secretly laughed at his needless apprehensions, and received the son of his old friend in such terms as are customary in business on these occasions. he welcomed him to his house, and would have embraced his intended son-in-law, but the young man drew back. “touch me not,” cried he, in a hollow tone,—“i am dead—i expired this morning—i must return to the place from which i came. farewell !” mr. mellinger's blood curled as the green mantle thus spoke with dull unmoving eyes; and as the deadly cold hand, stretched forth from the folds of the robe, touched him the green mantle of venice. 113 at parting, he shrieked aloud; his hair stood on end, and the marrow chilled in his bones. the green mantle stood like a statue of marble; all life was extinct in him ; speech, and the power of waving his cadaverous hand, alone remained. “to-morrow,” he continued, “i shall appear to my father in venice. give me a receipt for the safe delivery of the letter i have brought, that i may hand it to him. look you to my decent interment, for i am a stranger here, and know none but you. if providence then permits my return to this world of misery, i shall soon see you again. i shall report all your deeds to the eternal god, who judges us as we judge others: act accordingly. farewell ! i yearn for my grave; but first the receipt ''' mr. mellinger, with palsied hand, complied: the pale spirit seized it, thrust it into the cuff of his mantle, and then proceeded to the door, followed by the merchant. tobias was waiting there with a light, but seeing his master tremble with fear, could scarcely hold it. the corpselike spectre, with ghastly look, stared him in the face, and without uttering a word, glided slowly past him, and quitted the house. “follow the stranger,” whispered mr. mellinger, in the ear of the petrified tobias, “and see where he goes to.” tobias shook his head: “my dear master,” returned he, in a subdued tone, “that is no stranger; it is a corpse, a spirit, a ghost, or, for aught i know, the devil himself.” “my dear tobias,” rejoined mr. mellinger, in a tone of unusual kindness, “i will give you two guilders; go, follow him; see where he stops: it is a stranger; it is young sponseri of venice; i forgot to ask where he lodges.” 10* 114 ghost stories. mr. mellinger had never before called his old faithful servant “dear tobias,” neither had he ever offered him two guilders for a single errand. tobias mustered courage, crossed himself, and went. he followed the mysterious figure at a distance through the long silent street: just as the clock of the next church struck twelve, it reached the cemetery of the augustine friars, and knocked thrice at the iron gate, which was opened from within. the green mantle entered; the gate closed after him ; and old tobias was thrilled with horror. he turned quickly round, hastened home, and reported to his astonished master what he had seen and heard. “say not a word, tobias, about what has happened,” began mr. mellinger, giving the old man the two guilders which he had promised: “to-morrow i will endeavour to learn where mr. sponseri lodged. now go quietly to bed, and keep the matter a profound secret.” neither mr. mellinger, nor his servant, slept a wink that night. the former read over and over again the letter delivered to him by the ghastly messenger. it was certainly the handwriting of the elder sponseri, who, with paternal affection, recommended to him his son guilielmo, and solicited his kind attention to the young man. he laid considerable stress on his suffering an only child to go so far from home to finish his mercantile education under mr. mellinger, and concluded with requesting to be informed from time to time how his son conducted himself, and to supply him annually with a thousand ducats for pocket money, and to charge the same to his account. from the date of this letter it had been written five weeks; the journey could not take up more than one: consequently, there had been from some cause or other a delay of four weeks in the delivery. according to his the green mantle of wenice. 115 declaration he must have died very recently, for he was still unburied. mr. mellinger hoped in the morning to learn of the police the residence of the deceased, and resolved to await the result of this inquiry before he wrote to acquaint his father with the fatal intelligence. the words of the apparition lay like a mass of red-hot iron upon his heart. “i shall report,” said he, “all your deeds to the eternal god, who judges us as we judge others.” what did the pallid inhabitant of the nether world mean by this intimation ? he felt as though the last judgment of god was to be held forthwith upon him. he viewed his past life with contrition, and resolved to reform. next morning, immediately after breakfast, he hurried to the police-office to inquire the residence of guilielmo sponseri of venice. the clerk turned to the register. “he lived,” said he, “at the sun inn, no. 14, and died yesterday morning at the age of twenty-five years,” adding a full description of his person. every particular exactly tallies,” replied mr. mellinger with profound emotion, clapping his hand to his brow, and with faltering step retiring from the office. he hastened to the sun inn, and on inquiring for young sponseri, was conducted to no, 14, where he beheld the terrific visitant of the preceding night, extended on a bier, with a green mantle loosely thrown over him, and a white paper in the cuff. the old man's heart was ready to break: he wept, perhaps for the first time in fifty years, that is to say, in his whole life. “what paper is that in the cuff?” said he to the waiter, who had conducted him to the chamber. the waiter drew it forth, opened it, and showed it to mr. mellinger, who trembled violently, when he saw that it was the receipt which he had written with his own hand 116 ghost stories. the preceding night. “put it back put it back again!” said the horror-struck mr. mellinger with averted face, recollecting that guilielmo had told him he intended to give this receipt to his father to prove the due delivery of his letter. having uttered a silent prayer at the foot of the corpse, he hastened home in great perturbation, and was received by emmeline with a face in which it was easy to read that she was acquainted with all that had passed. tobias had told the whole story to rosina, and rosſna could not help telling it to emmeline. “on sunday, my dear, we will receive the sacrament,” said he, “and every saturday you shall give away ten dollars in charity to the poor; and if you chance to hear of any one in distress, tell me, that i may relieve him. henceforward, too, you may allow tobias and rosina bread and butter for supper, and beer twice a week. i have no objection to your giving them meat for dinner, if you think fit; and tell me if i appear close or stingy; people say i am so, but god knows it is not true; and i will do every thing in my power to avoid the appearance of a penurious disposition.” emmeline was deeply affected; but she rejoiced at the same time at the change in her father; for she now began to perceive that he had not always been so kind as at this moment. mr. mellinger then sent for his chief clerk, and briefly informed him that mr. sponseri, who, as he knew, was expected from venice, had arrived in their city, but died almost immediately. he directed him to give orders for a very splendid funeral, to be charged to the account of sponseri, senior. “my dear stipps,” continued mr. mellinger, “you must invite all the principal houses in the place; and i must beg you to follow the corpse to the grave in my stead: the melancholy ) the green mantle of venice. 117 event has so deeply affected me, that i am quite ill, and it will be impossible for me to attend.” mr. mellinger also gave directions that an advertisement should be inserted in the public papers for a clerk to conduct the english and italian correspondence, which young sponseri was to have undertaken; adding a particular injunction that it should be very short, on account of the exorbitant charges of the newspaper gentry. the young man was accordingly interred with the utmost magnificence, and mr. stipps was called in to give a report of his proceedings. “how did you dress him, mr. stipps ?” asked emmeline, who had listened to him with evident interest: “in black, of course.”—“so we intended,” replied the clerk, “but we found a paper in which he expressly desired to be buried in the green mantle which he had always worn. there was a note sticking in the cuff, and that we left there, because the waiter at the sun assured me that you, sir, had read it and expressly ordered that it should not be taken away.” “did the young man look well ?” inquired emmeline. “no doubt he did when alive,” replied the clerk; “but when people are dead—when the eyes are deep sunk, the cheeks pale and hollow, the face livid, cold and stiff—they do not usually look over and above well. this whole business with young sponseri is most extraordinary; people know not what to think of it!” “how so?” asked father and daughter both at once. “excuse me, sir ; i do not say that i think any ill, but only, that i know not what others may think. this young gentleman, the son of your friend, died in the morning; he was laid out, the green mantle spread over him, and a sheet over that, and the room-door locked. at night, at eleven o'clock precisely, the lock of the door 118 ghost stories. rattled—this the waiter heard distinctly; the porter who sleeps down stairs awoke with the noise, and thinking that some one was at the house-door, he rose: at that moment the green mantle passed him in the dark, and said in a deep, hollow, sepulchral voice, “open the door l’ the man half asleep and overpowered with fright, obeyed this command, and the green mantle glided past him into the street. what say you to this " “god be merciful to his soul!” ejaculated mr. mellinger. “well, and next morning, what then 7" asked the astonished emmeline. “why, next morning, there lay the corpse on the bier as before, with the green mantle over him, and in the cuff the paper, which, according to your directions, sir, was to be buried with him. not a creature saw him come back or heard the door open for him; the lock was 'aninjured; and the waiter is ready to make oath that the paper was not in the cuff before: he took it out, opened it, and found your name, sir, at the bottom, but the rest of the contents he could not read, it was written so illegibly.” “i believe i trembled a little,” said mr. mellinger, in a low tone. “for heaven's sake "cried honest stipps, interrupting him, “was it then really your writing where—if i may venture to ask the question—where did you meet with this terrible green mantle it must have been at night ! be not angry, sir, but indeed there are some dreadfully mysterious circumstances connected with this mr. sponseri. “ask me not, good stipps,” rejoined mr. mellinger, in a tremulous voice which betrayed his agitation: “i canthe green mantle of venice. 119 not and dare not answer even you. let us pray to god, for we are all poor sinners, to keep us in the right path, that we may never more hear of this tremendous green mantle.” “there is no likelihood of that: the vault in which the coffin is deposited is firmly closed; no living creature could get out of it, much less a dead person.” among the applications in answer to the advertisement in the newspapers was one from a young man, a native of bremen, named wilmsen, who had the strongest recommendations from one of the first houses at basle, in whose employ he had been. he said that he had the offer of a situation at naples; but if he could obtain one with mr. mellinger, he should prefer it, because his house had been long celebrated as one of the most eminent in the mercantile world, and he hoped there to enjoy opportunities of improving and extending his knowledge of business. he expressed himself with such modesty, that mr. mellinger was quite delighted with the compliment. he told the young man, who was very handsome, that he should have no objection to take him if he were competent to the performance of the duties which he required, and if they could agree respecting terms. “i know not for what department exactly you need a person,” rejoined young wilmsen, “but in the house which i have just quitted, i conducted the german, french, english, and italian correspondence, and i may say without vanity, that i speak those languages with tolerable fluency. in case of emergency, i can do something in russian; and as to my handwriting, permit me to submit to you a little specimen”—it was just like copperplate. “with regard to terms i cheerfully renounce 120 ghost stories, any salary in the hope of acquiring here that in which i am still deficient. in my former situations i have saved enough to last me for several years. i have therefore but one wish, and this is, that you would have the condescension to permit me to board at your table and to lodge in your house. your clerks, as i am informed, all board and lodge elsewhere; but young men sometimes get, in consequence, and indeed unavoidably, into bad company. in my former situations i have enjoyed this privilege, and been extremely comfortable. at naples i should be sure to obtain it—but i should not like to relinquish my prospect here.” mr. mellinger hemmed, and was about to signify his refusal, for never since the establishment of his house had one of his clerks eaten at his table, excepting on christmas day, when it was his custom to give an entertainment to all the persons in his employ; but the young and well-informed stranger, whose services he could gain at so cheap a rate, seemed too valuable a prize to be lost for the sake of that single condition. he therefore replied that he would consult his daughter, to whom he left the management of his house, and give him an answer. accordingly he acquainted emmeline with the circumstance. “let's see him first,” said the daughter of the wealthy mr. mellinger, with something of the spirit of commercial pride. “oh ! he will be sure to please you,” replied the father, little thinking of the danger to which he might possibly expose emmeline by the introduction of the young stranger into her company, and considering only what an advantageous bargain he should make by securing the benefit of his talents and industry at such a price. “he is very gentlemanly in his deportment; not like the generality of young men, but as modest as he is the green mantle of venice. 121 handsome. he speaks well, and will perhaps make our table a little more cheerful.” “just as you please, father,” said emmeline; “we may soon arrange that matter. we can let him have the green room ;” (which, by-the-by, was one of the best in the house;) that will be good enough, i suppose.” “quite, quite : his victuals will not cost much, and you need pour him out but one glass of wine after dinner—more would but heat his young blood.” in this manner they proceeded to arrange the whole course of his meals, the old gentleman enforcing that degree of frugality, or, more properly speaking, parsimony, for which he had been distinguished through life. young wilmsen called the following morning, learned with manifest joy that his terms were accepted, took possession of his post, and had his seat allotted to him at the desk. his first duty was to inform old sponseri of the sudden decease of his son, agreeably to the instructions he received from mr. mellinger. the latter of course abstained from the slightest allusion to the nocturnal adventure, and charged his new clerk to assure his correspondent of his most profound sympathy in this his painful loss. according to his representation, young sponseri had sent to request him to come to his inn; he hastened thither immediately, but on his arrival found him dead. he went on to state that all the attempts made for the purpose of recalling him to life having proved fruitless, he had caused him to be interred on the third day with all the demonstrations of respect due to his family; and an account of the expense was enclosed. in this account not a kreutzer was forgotten. “i should wish you, mr. wilmsen,” added mr. mellinger, “to deviate a little from our ordinary style: make it a little pathetic—you understand me. old 11 122 ghost stories. sponseri likes that sort of thing; he is worth a couple of millions, and one would willingly afford such a man as that a gratification which costs nothing.” wilmsen having rapidly finished a rough draft of the letter in italian, submitted it with great diffidence to his employer. he read it with such delight that he could not refrain from exclaiming to himself as he proceeded: “excellent capital just the thing !” in fact he was compelled secretly to admit, that such a composition had never yet issued from his counting-house. dinner-time arrived, and mr. mellinger took wilmsen along with him, and introduced him to his daughter. emmeline blushed as he bowed to her, for she recollected to have seen him at the cathedral, where he had knelt and prayed by her at the high altar. she had carried away with her the image of the handsome young man, without knowing herself how deep an impression it had made on her heart, and she was now surprised by the appearance of the original. he sat opposite to her: he gazed intently on her lovely figure; but whenever her eye met his, he cast it down on his plate and seemed absorbed in thought. “the young man is rather awkward,” observed the old gentleman to his daughter, after dinner; “he dropped his fork twice, and the stain of the red wine which he spilt when you handed him the cake will never be got out of the table-cloth.” “want of education, father,” replied emmeline, by way of excuse. “how can that be,” rejoined her father, “with such various and extensive acquirements —then he writes like a gellert, and is a merchant born into the bargain. i am exceedingly pleased with him ; though the stains vex me—they will never be got out of that the green mantle of venice. 123 cloth. i believe i had better make him an allowance for his board: his conversation is none of the liveliest; nay, i was obliged to ask him twice before he answered my question concerning the course of exchange at basle, so sparing is he of his words.” “he may improve in time, father,” replied emmeline, who was at no loss to guess the cause of wilmsen's embarrassment when he dropped his fork and spilt his wine, and who discovered in his abstraction the tenderest homage; for her eye was just then fixed upon him when her father began to talk about basle and the course of exchange. a feeling to which she had hitherto been a stranger pervaded her innocent bosom ; she could have laughed and wept at the same moment. she enjoyed the first triumph over her father. the young and handsome clerk had been much more attentive to her than to him. her vanity was flattered; and a tender emotion of her heart subsided into an inexpressible interest in behalf of the stranger, whose whole deportment plainly evinced that she was far from indifferent to him. at night wilmsen sent back the parsimonious meal ordered for him by mr. mellinger, for he had bespoken a supper at the first hotel in the city, to which he had invited all the clerks of the house. next morning stipps gave his master a faithful account of the entertainment. there was a profusion of all the delicacies that the city could furnish. the first three toasts proposed by mr. wilmsen were, “mr. mellinger”—“miss mellinger”— “success to commerce;” and they were drunk to the sound of drums and trumpets. the most costly wines, particularly champagne, had been freely circulated; but the moment the clock struck ten, wilmsen apologized for being obliged to leave the company, as he was anxious to 124 ghost stories. avoid causing any disturbance to the family of his employer. the rest of the party remained carousing till a late hour, the landlord having express orders to supply whatever was required, and even old tobias was made royal with the good cheer. mr. mellinger pricked up his ears: he had never before had such a man in his counting-house ; meither had his health and his daughter's ever yet been drunk to the sound of drums and trumpets. “give him two glasses of wine to-day,” said he to emmeline, when old stipps had retired: “it must have cost him something to do us this honour, and the people in the neighbourhood must have been astonished to learn that it was my clerks who were regaling themselves in such style.” at dinner this day wilmsen was a little more at home, but still he did not always answer the questions asked by the old gentleman. emmeline did not once open her lips to him, but her eyes frequently rested unconsciously, for a minute together, on the young stranger. mr. mellinger thanked him for the toasts of the preceding evening. wilmsen apologized for having presumed to propose them ; “but,” said he, “the little entertainment which i gave by way of purchasing my freedom in the society of my comrades, who have the good fortune to be in your service, did not acquire its appropriate character of festivity till we rose with brimming glass in hand, to express our ardent wishes to that providence which has brought us here together, for the duration of the prosperity of our young mistress and yourself.” mr. mellinger, manifestly gratified by the honour done him, poured out with his own hand a third glass for the prepossessing speaker. emmeline would willingly have thanked him too for his remembrance of her in the circle of his new associates, but the green mantle of venice. 125 she could not open her lips. she appeared strange, nay ridiculous, in her own eyes; she was vexed with herself: the moment was past for paying him a compliment on the subject, to which it was now impossible to recur. what must wilmsen think of her ? he had, if she was not mistaken, cast towards her a look of expectation, and she had been silent she upbraided herself the whole day for it. in the evening, the frugal supply of bread and butter dealt out for him by the careful rosina was again returned. wilmsen supped out; and the same excuse was made for several succeeding days. one afternoon an express arrived from venice with the following letter from the elder sponseri: “i am very uneasy. yesterday i received your letter, in which you inform me that my son is not yet arrived. last night i dreamt that my guilielmo, wrapped in the green mantle which he was accustomed to wear here, came like a ghost to my bedside, and whispered in my ear:—“i am dead, father; but i delivered your letter to mr. mellinger, and his receipt for it i lay upon this table. he has interred me decently : thank him for the last honours that he has paid to my remains. now, farewell; it is past midnight, and i must return to my dark, cold grave. the grave is a dismal place, father. you shall soon hear more of me."—i awoke—the figure of my son was gone. on recovering from my fright, i smiled to think that it was only a dream. how is it possible, thought i, that death should so soon have snatched away my robust, hearty, blooming guilielmo, in all the vigour of early manhood with this idea i strove to silence my awakened apprehensions, when his words 11+ 126 ghost stories. . \ concerning your receipt recurred to my mind: i turned my eyes to the table that stands by my bed, and upon it lay, sure enough, a piece of paper. i could scarcely breathe; i rang for the servants, as if the house were on fire: a cold perspiration issued from every pore. “lights lights for god's sake, lights' cried i, in an agony of terror. lights were instantly brought: i snatched the paper from the table ; it was a receipt written by you, but evidently with a trembling hand. my senses forsook me. i can tell you no more; but i conjure you, my friend, to explain the mystery. i would come to you myself, but that i am confined to my bed in consequence of the shock which this circumstance has given me. communicate the contents of this letter to nobody. answer me immediately by express, and without reserve—i am prepared for the worst. adieu !” this letter overwhelmed old mellinger with astonishment. from the date, guilielmo must have delivered the receipt at venice the first night after his interment. by no human means, not even by the flight of a bird, could the distance have been traversed in that time. “i shall record all your actions,” were the words of the mysterious green mantle, and that he possessed supernatural powers was plainly proved by this letter. mr. mellinger now sat down to write to the disconsolate father, and gave him a faithful account of all the particulars connected with the horrid apparition. from this time forward he became most conscientious in all his dealings; and he manifested, to the surprise of all his acquaintance and the whole city, so kind, so humane, and so generous a disposition, that many who had witnessed his former parsimony, his severity to poor artisans, and his unfeeling treatment to debtors who were unable the green mantle of venice. 127 to pay him to the moment, were often tempted to believe that his understanding was deranged. universally as he had before been hated, so universally was he now beloved and respected. numberless traits of his generosity were circulated from mouth to mouth; so that he gained, throughout the whole commercial world, the reputation of one of the most homest and upright of merchants. shortly after the remarkable catastrophe already recorded, he sustained several heavy losses. in one town, goods belonging to him to the amount of more than fifty thousand dollars were destroyed by fire; and an enemy's corps seized timber of his lying in one of the ports of the baltic, worth eighty thousand dollars more. a cargo of wheat, destined for england, together with the ship, was taken by privateers; and he lost large sums by the failure of two houses at hamburgh and amsterdam. all these disasters occurred within the short space of two months. he could not help deploring these misfortunes to his own people, though, as a prudent merchant, he said nothing about them to others. on such occasions stipps used to shrug his shoulders, and console him with such wise saws as, “fine weather cannot last for ever”—“things must mend when the worst is at an end”—“when need is greatest god's help will not be latest”—and the like. wilmsen also shrugged his shoulders. “did i not,” said he, “daily witness so many benevolent actions, which give you, sir, a just claim to the choicest blessings of heaven, i should often be tempted to regard these misfortunes as divine visitations: as it is, i begin almost to question the justice of providence.” old mellinger resisted this daring conclusion. “then,” rejoined wilmsengravely, “i am constrained to believe that whomsoever 128 ghost stories. god loves he chastens.” mellinger shook his head in silence, and turned away, that the young man might not see the anguish depicted in his face at the mention of divine visitations. about this time, when germany was reduced to the lowest state of humiliation, a large body of troops was quartered in the vicinity of the town where mr. mellinger resided. a courier, who had been for some time expected, was missed after quitting the next station, and not a trace of him could ever be discovered. from the general disposition of the inhabitants towards the hostile corps to which this courier belonged, it was not improbable that he had been met by some desperado who had given him a passport to the other world. the postilion, also, who should have driven the courier the last stage, had never since been heard of. the gens-d'armes were uncommonly active in their inquiries into every circumstance likely to elucidate this affair; and in less than a week, to the consternation of the whole city, mr. mellinger was seized by them in open day, in his own house, put in irons, and dragged to prison as the murderer of the missing courier. it was well known that the old gentleman in his heart detested the foe who had clipped the wings of his trade, and diffused inexpressible misery over his country; but that this hatred should be so strong as to incite him to murder on the highway, no one could believe. he had many enemies in the place; but no man could suppose that their animosity had urged them so far as to fabricate this false accusation, either to bring him to an ignominious end, or to reduce him to the necessity of purchasing life and liberty by an immense sacrifice. the accused himself, when first taken into custody, lost all presence of the green mantle of wenice. 129 mind, so that no opinion of his guilt or innocence could be formed from his behaviour. how he afterwards expressed himself was not known, for he was kept in such close confinement that no person whatever was permitted to speak to him. at this moment of the utmost consternation, young wilmsen conducted himself with such discretion, and took so warm an interest in the affair, that emmeline was unable to control her feelings: she had long cherished a secret passion for the young man. she was ignorant of the real cause of the total revolution which had been effected in her father, but she imagined that it was owing to the influence which wilmsen had acquired over him; for when the old man threw out the slightest hint of an intention to do a good action, wilmsen hastened with joyful zeal to carry it into execution; and by his talents, his usefulness, and his excellent advice, he gained such an ascendency over his employer, that the latter, by degrees, unconsciously entered into all his views. a thousand times had the gentle emmeline blessed him in her heart for his efforts: she had learned to respect and to love him; and her only sorrow arose from the idea that wilmsen was actuated by duty alone, without feeling any real interest for her father, or any thing but perfect indifference for herself. notwithstanding her modesty, she was sensible that she had not her equal for beauty in the city, and that her education and accomplishments were of a superior order. hundreds had sued at her feet, and yet this young man had remained at the same respectful distance at which he had placed himself on the very first day; not one cordial word had ever escaped his lips. vanity whispered to her that his looks had frequently betrayed more 130 ghost stories. than the attention of indifference ; but still he had been silent. now, however, circumstances were wholly changed. wilmsen was beside himself at the sudden apprehension of her father. he was thoroughly convinced of the innocence of mr. mellinger, and considered the whole affair as a diabolical plot to strip him of his property, which notwithstanding his recent losses, was still very considerable. as soon as he had somewhat collected himself, he hastened to emmeline, to offer her every consolation in his power. he pledged himself to save her father, cost what it would ; and requested her in the mean time to intrust him with the management of his business. “put confidence in me,” said he with unaffected warmth : “i will justify it by my conduct.” “yes, wilmsen,” said the weeping emmeline, deeply affected by the events of the day, “i have confidence in you,” and unconsciously placed her hand in his. he raised it to his lips; and had not her heart been oppressed with grief and her eyes bedimmed with tears, emmeline must have then read in his looks that rapture which pervaded him in spite of his participation in her filial sorrows. at this moment stipps arrived with the intelligence that mr. mellinger's guilt had been discovered by means of a child. the old gentleman had been accustomed to make little excursions into the country in a singlehorse chaise, which he drove himself. he was generally alone; but on this occasion he had taken with him a little girl, six years old, the child of one of his clerks, by whose prattle he was highly entertained. her name was charlotte. charlotte, on her return home, related to the child of a neighbour that mr. mellinger, in driving through the wilthe green mantle of venice. 131 low coppice, near the mill-dam, had discovered at a distance a courier coming, all in green; the fellow went so swiftly that she had nearly lost sight of him; but mr. mellinger leaped out of the chaise just in time to overtake him, and that he might not keep him long in misery, ran him right through the body. one of the gens-d'armes, who happened just then to be sitting on the step of the door, listened with the utmost attention to the child's story, and immediately reported the circumstance to his superiors. emmeline hastened to the parents for the purpose of questioning the child herself; but she had been carried by the gens-d'armes before the commandant of the place to be examined, and no person, not even her mother, had been allowed to accompany her. she returned home disconsolate, and found wilmsen busily engaged in arranging her father's papers, and in removing all the cash and bills of consequence to a place of safety. the horrid intelligence was soon brought that the very next morning her father was to be tried by a military commission. this, as every one knows, was in those days equivalent to a death-warrant. immediately after the apprehension of the child, the willow coppice mentioned by her had been searched, and, the lifeless body of the missing courier was actually found there, not, indeed, pierced through the heart, but with several mortal wounds in the head. all the efforts made by the unfortunate emmeline to obtain a sight of her father proved fruitless: neither money nor entreaties produced any effect. honest tobias, who had been in the habit of drinking at the publichouse with the soldiers and the jailer, used all his influence to gain permission to speak with his master for a few minutes only in their presence, but in vain. 132 ghost. stories. emmeline returned home broken-hearted. wilmsen, from whom she hoped for counsel and consolation, was melancholy and uneasy; he purposely evaded her questions whether he thought it still possible to save her father—whether she should offer half, or even the whole of his property to the commandant—whether she should repair that night to the marshal, who resided not far off, throw herself at his feet, and beg her father's life. the terrible night at length came on, and nothing was yet done to save the unfortunate, and, in the estimation of all, innocent old man from the fate which threatened him in the morning. emmeline sent quite late to charlotte's parents, who in great trouble returned for answer, that the child was detained at the commandant's, and this was all they knew about her; that the mother had on her knees implored him to release the child, or allow her to remain with the little creature, but he had rejected her petition with scorn and laughter. the wretched emmeline passed a restless night. she had recourse to prayer; and, strengthened in her confidence in the almighty, she fell asleep towards morning ; but no sooner had slumber diffused its kindly influence over her, than she was awakened by an extraordinary bustle in the house. rosina rushed into her chamber with the joyful exclamation: “my master is free l—he has escaped l’” emmeline, trembling for joy, lost not a moment in dressing herself; the whole house was assembled: wilmsen, too, was awakened from a sound sleep, and he treated the whole story as a fable ; but betty, the jailer's daughter, had been herself and communicated the good news to rosima from the street, as the latter, unable to sleep, was sitting at a window. the green mantle of venice. 133 it was not long before a detachment of military marched up and surrounded the house. several officers, with the commandant at their head, searched it from top to bottom so strictly, that, had mr. mellinger been no bigger than a mouse, he must have been discovered if he had been in it. the disappointed commandant declared, that out of many hundred prisoners of this kind not one had ever before given him the slip, and that the more he reflected upon the matter, the more inexplicable the escape of mr. mellinger appeared. “i insist on being informed,” continued he in a firm and authoritative tone, “whether any of you knows the green mantle of venice.” at this unexpected question, emmeline, stipps, and rosina, changed colour so visibly, that the lynx-eyed commandant, who narrowly watched all present, was satisfied that he should draw some information from those three. he ordered them to remain, and the rest to quit the room. he sent stipps and rosina, half-frightened to death, into separate closets, and requested emmeline to tell him truly all she knew respecting the green mantle. the trembling girl asked how this mysterous apparition could have any thing to do with the liberation of her father. the commandant could not conceal his surprise that she, a young lady who was known to be better educated than any in the whole city, should speak of the green mantle as of a supernatural being ; but reminded her that it was his province, not hers, to put questions, and repeated his request that she would relate what she knew on a matter, in which he now began to suspect that there was some reality. emmeline, trembling with fear, repeated all that she had heard on the subject. the commandant silently shook his head; he looked round significantly at the officers, 12 134 ghost stories. who were equally astonished; and allowed emmeline, so overpowered by agitation that she could scarcely support herself, to leave the room. stipps was next called in, and his story agreed with emmeline's. the commandant, still more staggered than before, desired to see the letters which mr. mellinger had received about the time in question from the house of sponseri at venice. stipps went, attended by one of the officers, to the counting-house, and brought the packet, lettered s, containing the mysterious epistle, with the contents of which the reader is already acquainted. the commandant, with the two superior officers, read the letter, and then muttered, “if this is the case, the jailer and the guard are not so criminal; and the devil fetch me if i know what i should have done myself in their situation.” stipps was ordered to point out the spot in the churchyard where young sponseri had been buried. “should you know the body again "gravely asked the commandant, who now began to have some misgivings about the matter.—“if the face be not very much altered,” replied stipps, “i should certainly know it again;” and his blood ran cold at the thought of once more beholding those ghastly features, which had already filled him with such horror. “let the grave be opened " said the commandant to his aid-de-camp : “take this person,” pointing to stipps, “along with you, and let him state on oath whether it is the corpse of the same person who was buried for young sponseri of venice. then send for the jailer and the sergeant of the guard, and take down in writing what they say when you show them the body. let the jailer bring the button with him.” meanwhile rosina was brought forward, and related the green mantle of *venice. 135 what she knew. the statements of all three exactly coincided, but none of them had seen the green mantle, excepting stipps, when superintending the arrangements for the funeral. rosina, when questioned as to her knowledge of the apparition, mentioned old tobias as her informant. inquiry was in consequence made for him, but he was nowhere to be found. messengers were despatched to every place where he was thought likely to be, but to no purpose. “you must produce him,” cried the commandant, “should it even cost you the whole of your property. as a security, you shall pay down immediately ten thousand dollars, which shall be forfeited in four weeks at farthest, unless you bring the man forward alive or dead. wilmsen, with a forced smile, replied, that old tobias, who was unfit for any kind of work, and was chiefly kept out of charity, had never yet been valued at so high a rate; and as mr. mellinger never suffered the keys of the iron chest to go out of his own hands, it was not in their power to pay the sum demanded, nor, indeed, could they tell whether there was so much money in the house. “here are the keys "cried the commandant, with an air of triumph, holding them up close to the face of wilmsen, to the no small dismay of the latter; “it is our custom, young man, to search a prisoner, and to take away whatever he has about him at the time of his apprehension. come along !—where is the chest ?” at this moment wilmsen was completely disconcerted, and the commandant exultingly exclaimed: “you thought that the commandant was no match for you, i warrant. i know you city gentry but too well; and i will make you submissive enough before i have done with you.” yielding to necessity, wilmsen conducted the command136 • ghost stories. ant and some of his officers to the counting-house, and with half-smothered vexation pointed to the iron chest. the commandant unlocked it himself, raised the heavy lid, and instantly started back three steps; for, at the first glance that he cast into it, what should meet his greedy eyes but—a green mantle ! thrilled with horror, he exclaimed—“surely this must be the work of the devil himself!” and asked wilmsen if he had ever seen the mantle in the chest before. “mr. mellinger alone kept the key of that chest,” replied he, “and we clerks never concerned ourselves about what our master had in it.”—“take out the accursed mantle,” cried the commandant, as though he durst not himself touch the garment of the spectre. wilmsen obeyed. “what is this f” asked the commandant, pointing with his stick to a paper that fell from the mantle. wilmsen picked it up, and would have read it. “that is not written for you!” cried the commandant, snatching it out of his hand. he looked steadfastly at it for some time. it was a fragment of written paper. he took another piece out of his pocket-book, declaring, with a vulgar oath, that both were in the same handwriting, and, on fitting the pieces, they were found to correspond so exactly that there could be no doubt of their belonging to one another. a third scrap, however, was wanting to complete the whole. the commandant was more and more confounded. “it seems to be written in italian,” said he ; “does any one here understand italian f" wilmsen offered his service, when one of the officers answered, that he knew something of that language. the commandant handed the two pieces to him. he read as follows:– the green mantle of venice. 137 conscience; god a fearful end. last judgment. tremble—eternal night of death.” “pooh 1” said the commandant, with affected indiffel ence; but at that moment his nether jaw quivered so con vulsively, that he could not utter another word. “there is something more,” observed the other officer, pointing to the back of the paper. his companion turned both the pieces; the back of one was blank, but on that of the other, which had fallen from the green mantle, were the words: “pallasch and wollmar 95 “stop!” cried the commandant to the officer, when he heard those two names; “read that to me only.” the officer stepped close to him, and read in a low tone as follows:— “pallasch and wollmar are innocent. may the judgments of almighty god overtake him who injures a hair of their heads !” “come hither, my friend, and do you translate it,” said the commandant, almost beside himself, handing the paper to wilmsen. wilmsen rendered it thus:–“ pallasch and wollmar are innocent. may the heaviest judgments of almighty god overtake him who injures a hair of either of their heads 1” “then may the lightnings blast ” the rest died away on the lips of the commandant. “look at the handwriting.” wilmsen compared it with that on the other side, and found both to be the same. in raising the two pieces of paper to his face, he turned aside his head with an expression of loathing. the commandant overtakes 12* 138 ghost stories, inquired the reason. “they have a cadaverous smell,” said he, with a countenance indicative of horror and disgust, “as if they had come out of the hands of a putrid corpse.” the commandant drew back with a look of abhorrence, for he, too, could perceive the earthly sepulchral smell. he now became as mild and flexible as he had at first been blustering and peremptory. one of the officers reminded him of the object of his visit, and of the ten thousand dollars which were to be paid down as a pledge for the production of old tobias. “the commandant,” cried wilmsen keenly, “has possessed himself of the chest : there can, of course, be no farther question about giving, but only about taking. what is in the chest i know not; if it contains so much, let him take what his conscience will allow him, recollecting that god will overtake with his judgments those who are guilty of injustice.” “.4 fearful end,” muttered the commandant, reminded by wilmsen's allusions of the oracular hieroglyphics of the green mantle—“last judgment—tremble—eternal night of death. i will not touch a kreutzer in this chest; and i will abate one half of the required sum, but that i must positively have,” added he, casting a side glance at the two officers, for the sake of the public welfare.” wilmsen searched the chest, and finding that it contained not quite four thousand dollars, offered half the amount as a deposit, if the commandant would pledge his word and honour that it should be returned as soon as tobias should be delivered up alive, or his death satisfactorily ascertained. the commandant complied, and the officers took charge of the two thousand dollars. meanwhile stipps returned from the church-yard with the aid-de-camp, the jailer, and the sergeant of the guard the green mantle of venice. 139. the aid-de-camp produced the depositions which he had taken down. according to these, stipps had recognised the disinterred corpse as that of young sponseri of venice; and pallasch the jailer, and sergeant wollmar knew him again immediately to be the same person who had come the preceding night and released mr. mellinger from prison. “you seem astonished,” said the commandant to young wilmsen, who at this declaration could not believe his ears. “you will now be able to account for my surprise at finding the infernal mantle here in the chest. either god or the devil must have a hand in this business.” all present crossed themselves; and even the two officers who were acquainted with the events of the preceding night looked aghast. “the green mantle itself.” continued the aid-de-camp, “i have taken from the corpse.” at these words, to the horror of the whole company, a soldier brought in the half-mouldered garment. “the button,” proceeded the aid-de-camp, “which the apparition last night lost from its mantle, is actually wanting on this mantle taken out of the grave, and is of the same pattern as those on the latter.” the commandant shuddered. the two mantles, on being compared, were found to be of the same cloth; and both had the same sort of buttons, and one button was deficient on both. “let us hear no more of this infernal story !” exclaimed the commandant: “the more we investigate it, the darker is the mystery.” “permit me, however, sir,” said the aid-de-camp, by way of concluding his report, “merely to submit to you this scrap of paper. in the cuff i found a receipt certifying the delivery of a letter. mr. stipps declared, that, to the best of his judgment, the receipt was the handwriting of mr. mellinger. in the pocket of the mantle was this paper.” 140 ghost stories. the paper was unfolded; and who can describe the new astonishment of all on finding that it fitted exactly to the two other pieces, one of which had fallen from the mantle in the chest, and the other had been dropped by the apparition the preceding night! the words had become very illegible; but there was no doubt that the writing on all three pieces was by the same hand. one of the officers and wilmsen endeavoured to decipher the contents, and, after poring over them for some time, made out what follows:– “o wretch, rouse thy slumbering conscience. god will overtake thee in the path of guilt to which i foresee a fearful end. the lamentations of those whom thou hast rendered miserable shall summon thee to the last judgment. tremble, thou scourge of mankind! the eternal night of death is but the first day of the torments of hell.” “who says that "cried the commandant while his teeth chattered. “the grave,” emphatically replied wilmsen. a long pause ensued. “the eternal night of death is but the first day of the torments of hell!” slowly repeated the commandant. “terrific idea when, then, is their night !—when their second day ?—when their termination ? observe all of you,” added he solemnly, “the most profound silence respecting what has occurred here. time may, perhaps, clear up what our limited understandings cannot at present penetrate.” with these words he retired, followed by the rest, having previously delivered the keys of the chest to stipps, and ordered one of his people to carry the mantles after him. as soon as honest stipps found himself alone with the green mantle of wenice. 141 wilmsen, he burst into tears. “o, my friend!” cried he, “what a day has this been 1 i am overwhelmed with horror and anxiety. where is our old master f" “heaven be his guide l’” said wilmsen, devoutly folding his hands across his breast. “i am extremely concerned about him.” “but who can have saved him?” asked stipps. at this moment, emmeline entered the room, followed by betty pallasch, the jailer's daughter.— “now, my girl,” said she, “as we cannot be overheard here, tell us three all you know. tell every thing; speak the truth, and you shall have money or whatever you wish for.” “they may talk as they please,” said the girl with a knowing look, “they will not persuade me that the devil had any hand in it. i can't help thinking it must have been tobias; for last night, between ten and eleven o'clock, he gave the soldiers so much liquor that they could hardly stand. he had first poured rum or rack, or some devil's drink or other, i forget what he called it, into the wine, so that the smell alone was enough to make one tipsy. he said, (i mean tobias,) that they should drink his master's health, and have three times as much when he was acquitted and set at liberty. the men laughed, saying, that as his master would almost to a certainty be shot on the morrow, they would rather have then what they were to have. tobias went away crying, wished me good night, and said:—‘betty, if that which i expect happens, you will never see me again.” i locked the door after him, and carried the key to my father; but the conversation between tobias and the soldiers had made me so uneasy that i could not go to bed; for wherever i was, i could not help fancying that i saw them shooting the old gentleman, and poor old tobias 142 ghost stories. wandering over the wide world. i stayed with my father, who was sitting up with the sergeant; and they talked about war, and told stories about murders that made my blood run cold. i never was so frightened in my life. the sergeant looked around at his men, who were fast asleep. my father told me twice to go to bed, but i could not for fright. when he ordered me the third time, i lay down on the bench and pretended to be asleep. the sergeant said he might as well let me lie, since the night was so far advanced ; and besides, while i was there, they would not be without company. he then clapped his ear to the door of the cell in which the old gentleman was confined, and knocked softly three times. “the old man must have a good conscience,” said he, “for he is fast asleep." “scarcely had he uttered these words, when the clock struck twelve; and with the last stroke, a pale, ghastly figure, wrapped in a green mantle, came out at the door, followed by the old gentleman. all three of us started up, and i could not help giving a loud shriek. the spectre stared at us with his great coal-black eyes, and said:— i am the green mantle of venice. my habitation is the grave. this man is free: whoever touches him dies.” with that, both of them walked through our little place into the guard-room, where the men were asleep, and vanished. “father what was that ?’ cried i, wringing my hands between horror, apprehension, and joy. “did you see his face? there was not a drop of life-blood in it. oh! it was death himself, or a dreadful apparition '' “my father was astounded. “it was a dream, child, a fearful dream. it could be nothing else, for the old man still lies within there in irons.” the green mantle of wenice. 143 “with a trembling hand he took up the lamp, and went into the cell. the fetters lay upon the pavement. the cell was empty “we are undone,” exclaimed the sergeant; ‘this must have been the devil himself. it was some hellish contrivance. holla, guards ! to arms good heaven, has beelzebub stopped your ears also by some diabolical enchantment º' “the men heard not a syllable of what he said; and it was at least a quarter of an hour before they could be brought, by dint of buffetings and shakings, to stand upon their legs. the house was searched with all speed, every corner from the garret to the cellar; but no trace either of the ghost or of his companion could anywhere be found. “at last, it became necessary for the sergeant to acquaint the commandant. ‘if the commandant hears,' said the sergeant to the soldiers, who had scarcely recovered from their intoxication, “that you were drunk, every man of you will be shot. i cannot help thinking that the profound sleep into which you fell was a freak of the cursed green mantle of venice. you have toped freely before now, my brave fellows, yet were always found at your posts, and never were known to neglect your duty.’ “the men were glad that the sergeant himself had helped them to an excuse; and they all protested that they had never been so bewitched before; they could hardly then see out of their eyes, so confused were their heads. one of them undertook to swear a thousand oaths, that he had seen the green mantle, with the prisoner, pass through the guard-room. he would have called to the others, but he found himself incapable of moving a limb, or uttering a word. some invisible power compelled him to be silent. 144 ghost stories. “the sergeant made his report of all this to the commandant. the latter had yesterday been at a splendid entertainment, and, as the servants said, returned home in his cups, and was not to be roused. “two hours elapsed before the whole of the guards on duty at the prison were relieved. the sentry at the door had disappeared. “the sergeant, my father, myself, and all the soldiers, were arrested and carried before the commandant. he examined us himself. we were put upon our corporal oath as to what we had heard and seen. the soldiers to a man swore, that with open eyes they had seen the green mantle pass through with the prisoner, and that they would have stopped—have shot him; but they were not able to move a finger, and when they attempted to call out, their voices stuck in their throats; that the green mantle had a huge cloven foot, and a long flaming tail; that the door opened before him without his touching it, and when he was gone, he left behind him a strong smell of brimstone. “i knew very well that this was not all true, and that they had perjured themselves; but, as i saw that the commandant began to be puzzled, and to consider my father less guilty, i let them swear what they liked, and sell their souls to the devil; for you know, he who takes a false oath is sure to go to hell. but the scoundrels deserve no better. i must, however, except wollmar, who is a nice honest young man, of whom nobody can speak ill. when they brought in the green mantle that had been found at the door of the house, the commandant and all the officers turned away in disgust, for it smelt putrid— like corrupted flesh. it almost fell to pieces with rottenness. one of the buttons rolled towards the feet of the the green mantle of wenice. 145 commandant; and the sergeant found in the pocket a torn piece of paper, the writing on which could hardly be read. the rest were detained; but i was set at liberty, and hastened to rosina, to give her the earliest intelligence of the escape of her master. the commandant is now in consultation with the rest of his officers. “little charlotte has been examined again; and she has been discharged, with a threat that she shall be instantly shot if she says a word about the questions put to her, or her answers. the child is now as mute as a fish regarding the whole affair. “the commandant is quite puzzled what to make of the story of the green mantle; and they say, that there is something on the scrap of paper which has made him very uneasy. “search is making everywhere for old tobias. the wine he gave to the soldiers has been examined, and poison has been found in it.” “only opium, perhaps,” interrupted wilmsen. “yes, that is what they call the stuff,” continued betty. “the soldiers are lying there yet, at full length. they are too ill to stand, and i verily believe they will not outlive this evening. but that is of no consequence—they have not an honest hair on their heads, and every man of them belongs to the devil after what they swore this morning. i am only anxious for poor tobias: if they catch him, they will certainly shoot him without ceremony.” emmeline liberally rewarded the girl; and when she was gone, all three wearied themselves with conjectures respecting the green mantle of venice. at last, old stipps observed, “let us drop the subject. mr. mel linger is free and safe: the rest we must leave to heaven.” 13 146 ghost stories. wilmsen passed his hand over his brow anxiously, and said, in a low tone:—“while we have no intelligence respecting him, i shall not be easy.” “do not leave me,” said emmeline mournfully, extend. ing her hands to both of them; “god has afflicted me heavily, and i have need of such friends.” each raised one to his lips: wilmsen felt the pressure of her soft delicate hand, and his delighted lips reposed upon it for a second. the thought rushed through his soul, that the pressure proceeded only from the sense of her forlorn situation. he suddenly released her hand, and immediately resumed in his deportment the respectful distance of an inferior. emmeline looked at him in silence, shook her head, unobserved by him, and without another word, left the room in deep despondence. in her now unprotected situation, emmeline invited one of her aunts to come and live with her. old stipps was appointed cashier, and wilmsen superintended the correspondence. thus matters were regulated in the house; in poor emmeline's heart, however, no such order prevailed. every day she learned to love the handsome young wilmsen more and more. little charlotte, as we have seen, had been set at liberty. her parents had taken her, the same morning that she returned from the commandant, to a relation in the country, probably that she might escape the pressing interrogatories of the curious. at the end of a week the little girl came back. emmeline sought an opportunity of speaking to her alone, to learn further particulars regarding the murder of the courier by her father's hand. the child who had been so full of prattle during her walks with mr. mellinger, was now silent as the grave. the green mantle of venice. 147 the terror of what she had gone through had made a deep impression upon the child. “the commandant will have me shot,” said she, laying both her hands on her anxious breast; “i dare not speak a word about it. my father tells me, that the soldiers will not always stay here, and when they are gone, i will let you know every thing.” “at least tell me, my dear,” said emmeline, and pressed the poor girl to her heart, “and i swear by heaven and my hope of salvation to be silent—tell me whether my father did really stab the courier " “yes,” answered charlotte, shaking her head; “he did stab the courier, he did indeed; but still he is no murderer.” on the same day the corpse of a drowned man was found in the river. the officer whose duty it was to inspect it was convinced that it was the body of old tobias; and several of the by-standers coincided in this opinion. young wilmsen was sent for, that he might give his evidence on the subject. it was really old to. bias. the corpse, being already in a putrid state, was immediately buried. the depositions were laid before the commandant, as was usual in such cases. next morning wilmsen put in his claim for the two thousand dollars deposited in the hands of the commandant, and reminded him of his written undertaking to return this sum as soon as the death of tobias had been satisfactorily ascertained. the commandant stormed. “the depositions are false,” he cried; “you are all a pack of rascals, who are sure to be in one story !” “the depositions are all regular and authentic, sir,” answered wilmsen, firmly but respectfully; “and you are not the commandant of a pack of rascals, but of a 148 ghost stories. place whose inhabitants have a reputation of being the most upright citizens of the empire.” “pray who has recognised the body of the drowned man as that of your tobias f" continued the commandant. “you.-who has the greatest interest in establishing that point? you.-i shall not refund the two thousand dollars, be assured of that. besides, i have not the money; the two officers who were with me had their share of it.” “that,” rejoined young wilmsen, “i have too high an opinion of your honour to believe. it was a deposit which was to remain untouched, and not a present. if you have suffered others to take any part of it, you are still answerable for the whole; and if you do not believe the evidence of the officer who inspected the corpse, and my deposition, let the body be taken up again, and thousands who knew old tobias will confirm what i have asserted.” “what, take up the body again!” exclaimed the commandant. “shall the grave be disturbed a second time for the sake of your house? would to god that i never had any thing to do with you!” “but restore the two thousand dollars,” said wilmsen, returning to the matter in dispute. “the grave shall give it up first ſ” peevishly answered the commandant, and ordered wilmsen to be gone. in a few hours the horrible work was begun; hundreds of people who had known the old man were attracted to the spot, some from motives of curiosity, others because they were summoned. every one agreed that it was certainly old tobias; the dress alone was not like that which he usually wore. on a more particular inspection by the surgeon, a deep gash was discovered in the throat of 1” the green mantile of venice. 149 the corpse. everybody shuddered at the sight. tobias had been a worthy old man, beloved and esteemed by every one who knew him, and nothing but the deepest despair could have driven him to suicide. “this is another victim whose blood will lie heavy on the soul of the commandant,” murmured the crowd. these words found their way to his ears, together with the rest of the evidence, through the officers who attended on his behalf. enraged at the necessity, as he feared, of refunding the two thousand dollars, he exclaimed: “let the fellow be buried in a cross-road l’” this, however, he could not carry into effect: the people opposed it kudly. tobias, they said, was a man of a quiet and religious turn of mind, and very unlikely to commit suicide. the wound might have been inflicted by other hands, as such deeds were by no means of rare occurrence in those times. the commandant could not persist against the general voice of the people, who demanded an honourable grave for the deceased, and at length he silently acquiesced. wilmsen wrote again to demand the restoration of the two thousand dollars. the commandant answered that he would confer alone with emmeline, the mistress of the house, on this subject. he came accordingly, and artfully endeavoured to induce her to resign her claim; but she referred him to wilmsen, in whose hands was the entire management of her affairs, and who would settle the matter in a legal way. the commandant turned the conversation to different subjects; and was on the point of taking leave, when emmeline's servant entered with a letter, which had been delivered by a little boy who was an utter stranger. emmeline apologized to the commandant; and, opening 13 * 150 ghost stories. the letter, changed colour, laughed and cried, trembled, sobbed, and at length so far forgot herself, as to exclaim joyfully, folding her hands on her breast in prayer, “he lives 1” the commandant, who had anxiously observed her emotion, asked, with an air of interest, who it could be whose life appeared to be of so much importance to her; at the same moment, a small billet fell from emmeline's hand; he took it up, and with a soldier-like bluntness proceeded to read these words: “i live! i am free and happy, and i soon hope to see my beloved daughter.” “from your father "cried he, in astonishment. “you declared from the first that you knew not where he was; that you had never heard from him since his escape; and i confess to you i did not believe it. i perceive now that you spoke the truth: but where is he there is another slip of paper in the envelope; perhaps it gives some farther explanation.” emmeline drew forth the slip, which she now first observed, ran hastily over it, and with evident embarrassment folded it up again. “well?” asked the commandant impatiently. “excuse me, sir,” said emmeline, gravely rising to leave the room; “these very extraordinary lines do not appear to be intended for any eye but my own.” “i desire, however, to see these very extraordinary lines,” said he, in a determined tone. “your father has withdrawn himself from the hands of justice. the manmer of his escape, his present abode— • ? “the billet contains no clue to this,” answered emmeline, trembling. “i will read it, however; i must read it. it is the the green mantle of wenice. 151 * commandant who addresses you. i order you to give it to me, or i must employ force.” pale and trembling, emmeline complied. the commandant had scarcely cast a glance over it, when he exclaimed, “the devil this is from the green mantle of venice; the handwriting is the same as that on the three cursed pieces of paper found in the three mantles.” he read it first aloud, then to himself; threw it on the floor with a vehement oath, stamped, gnashed his teeth with rage, and hastened out of the room, banging the door after him with a violence that shook the whole building. it was some time before emmeline recovered from the agitation into which she was thrown by this scene. she had merely run her eye over the billet; but she had seen enough to convince her that the lines bore some allusion to the commandant himself, and hence her objection to show them to him: at length, recollecting herself, she took them up from the ground, and read these words: “your father is in safety: as a proof of it, i send you the enclosed lines written by his own hand. he is innocent of the crime imputed to him. the whole results from the stupidity and wickedness of the wretch who imprisoned him, and whom i will in time overtake with my vengeance. he fears the spirits of the other world; he shall learn to tremble at them. i am acquainted with his villanies; and when i am again permitted to leave my dark abode, a fearful chastisement shall overtake him. “the green mantle of wenice.” in about an hour the commandant sent to emmeline, requesting her to transmit to him the mysterious billet under seal. he cut off the beginning, as far as the words 152 ghost stories, which more immediately related to himself, and sent it by a courier to venice, addressed to the house of sponseri, desiring to be informed whether they knew the handwriting, and whose it was. in as short a time as possible an answer arrived from old sponseri, stating that the enclosure was undoubtedly the handwriting of his deceased son guilielmo, but that he was unable to tell at what time or on what occasion it could have been written. the commandant began to look within. he found himself unable to account in any way for what had passed, without at length admitting the belief of the supernatural interference of the green mantle of venice. impressed with the idea that he should, either before or after death, be punished by this terrible being, he resolved immediately to set about making all the reparation in his power for his misdeeds. his first act was to refund the two thousand dollars, without farther importunity; and from this time he became so condescending, so accommodating, and so forbearing in the exercise of his duty, that nobody in the town could comprehend the meaning of this sudden change. most people attributed it to the altered state of political affairs. the situation of the french army occupying the south of germany became at this time very precarious, in consequence of the turn which matters had taken in the north. the appeal of the king of prussia to the warlike youth of his dominions sounded throughout the whole of germany, and awakened the fire of patriotism in many a heart. the noblest youths flocked to breslau to fight under prussian colours, impatient to take an active part in the contest which was to give freedom and tranquillity to europe. every day brought the most encouraging accounts of the zeal and activity displayed in every quarter. the green mantle of wenice. 153 “i must hence,” said wilmsen, one evening, in a con. vivial circle of his young friends; “and let those whose hearts lie in the right place, and who love their country, follow me.” they unanimously rose, and pledged themselves by hand and word to accompany him to breslau, and there to enrol themselves among the prussian volunteers. the health of the king was deeply pledged in rhenish by the new comrades; the time and place of meeting were arranged, that they might set out together on their journey into silesia, and the strictest secrecy with regard to their movements was enjoined. when the party was about to break up, stark, the most sentimental of their number, stepped into the midst of them, and raising his glass, drank—“fidelity in those we love, a modest parting kiss, and a happy re-union " every one drank a bumper, amidst loud cheers, to the health of their heroines, and wilmsen, deeply affected, pressed the hand of the young enthusiast. . stipps was ready to drop with astonishment and terror when wilmsen communicated to him his resolution, under an injunction of secrecy. “mr. wilmsen,” said he, laying both his hands on the shoulders of the young man, “what an unfortunate step you have taken war and commerce have nothing to do with each other, and never will have ; a merchant can never make a soldier. if you wish to do something for the general cause, let it be with money, but save your blood and your limbs. when you are on the road to happiness and fortune, do not go and wantonly throw away your life.” “to fortune 1” said wilmsen, doubtfully. “you cannot miss it,” answered stipps, familiarly. “i have hitherto been silent on this subject, because it did not become me to speak first, but i can now refrain 154 ghost stories, no longer. our emmeline—why do you colour so, mr. wilmsen there is nothing to blush for—she has still, notwithstanding the losses our house has experienced, her good half million 1 and what a girl!—do you know another half so beautiful or half so good, in the whole city ?” . “leave off jesting,” said wilmsen, “we have more serious matters to talk about. the rich heiress of half a million is destined for something higher; and, even if i had been dazzled by her charms, i have sense enough to be aware, mr. stipps, that she would have looked upon any proposal from a poor fellow like me as absolute madness.” “by heaven, you are mistaken "cried stipps, growing half angry: “i would wager all i am worth in the world that she would not say no. i have heard too much from the old lady her aunt; i have seen too much of her behaviour towards you, to have the least doubt of it.” the simplicity of stipps prevented his perceiving the treachery he was guilty of to emmeline, or the impression which his words made upon wilmsen. the latter concealed within his own bosom the pleasing emotions which they excited, and merely said: “the plan i have engaged in must be executed immediately, or we may be betrayed. i set out this evening with my friends. i shall give up my accounts into your hands. will you acquaint emmeline of my intention ? not a word to any one besides.” stipps muttered and shook his head, and wilmsen left him. when wilmsen returned, emmeline desired to speak to him. he saw plainly that she had been weeping: this confirmation of what stipps had asserted was welcome to his heart. she gave him her hand, saying, in a the green mantle of venice. 155 mournful tone of voice: “you are going to leave us, then, dear wilmsen i thought that, for the sake of our house, you would have stayed with us; but still i honour your resolution: our private advantage ought not to be put in competition with the public welfare. it is a fearful time; thousands”—she continued, while her eyes filled with tears—“thousands must be sacrificed ere the crisis is past. you go,” she added more firmly, after a short pause, “to offer yourself upon the altar of patriotism and loyalty—on this holy altar offer likewise what i have to give.” she delivered to him all her jewels and ornaments, and a considerable sum in gold. “i cannot, like you, offer my blood and my life at the shrine; but when wives and daughters assemble in the churches to offer up their prayers for the safety of those they love”— she stopped, overcome by her feelings. wilmsen seized her hand, and pressing it to his lips, cried, “yes, dearest, heavenly girl, pray for me, and god will be with me. this moment, emmeline”—he never before thus familiarly addressed her—“this moment repays me for all i have hitherto suffered in this house. a few hours only now are mine. my situation here is changed: i no longer see in you the respected daughter of my patron—emmeline, my emmeline is before me. from the moment—imay now at least speak freely—from the moment when i knelt near you at the altar, every feeling has been devoted to you. the consciousness of my inferiority of station, of my poverty, added to the coldness and occasional haughtiness of your manner towards me, has hitherto repressed every hope which my vanity might at other times have suggested. but now, in these few last moments, i am richly recompensed by these tears for all that love and duty have imposed upon me.” 156 ghost stories. “the coldness and haughtiness of my manner!” repeated emmeline, shaking her head and smiling through her tears: “my dear friend, how little you know of the female heart! perhaps we see each other now for the last time; let there be no longer any mystery between us. the coldness of which you complain was occasioned only by the caution i was compelled to observe towards all your sex, in consequence of the fortune i was known to possess, the various suits to which i must be exposed, and the secluded nature of my education. if i had been poor, the sincerity of my attachment would have been obvious; but being rich, i was obliged to be reserved. towards you i had also other reasons for it.” she ceased and laid her hand upon her heart: wilmsen placed it upon his. “other reasons !” cried he ; “you have promised that there shall be no concealment now.” “your excessive diffidence made you blind, or you would not ask for other reasons. you might have found them,” added she, casting down her eyes, “in yourself.” “oh, emmeline !” cried wilmsen, pressing her to his breast, “speak the delightful word. tell me what you mean.” “wilmsen,” she answered trembling, and in a low voice, “it was your part first to tell me that you loved me.” “my own emmeline !” cried wilmsen, overcome with joy; and a kiss sealed the union of the happy pair. the lovers had a thousand things to tell each other: wilmsen, hitherto so distant, was all cordiality and affection, and developed the amiable and, till now, unknown qualities of his glowing heart in a thousand ways. a cloud, however, all at once overcast his soul; emmeline the green mantle of venice. 157 perceived the change, and anxiously inquired the cause. “your father,” replied wilmsen, dubiously, “will he approve our love?” “his only wish,” rejoined emmeline, with a sweet smile, “is for the happiness of his child, and without you i shall never find it in this world. he is acquainted with my sentiments, and he approves them. a few days before the unfortunate affair of the courier, count blütenstein called on my father, and solicited my hand for his son, the chamberlain. my father's vanity seemed flattered by the proposal; he painted the young gentleman's good qualities in the most glowing colours; adding, that he should be gratified if this match accorded with my wishes, as he trusted it would, since i could not have any reasonable objection to the young count, on the score of his talents, person and accomplishments. my answer, that i had no dislike to the count, but that i never could love him, made my father a little angry.—‘you love nobody,' said he peevishly; and was going to leave the room, when i mustered courage and confessed my attachment to you. he was staggered at first, but afterwards observed that he thought he had several times perceived in me a partiality to you. though you were poor, yet—but why should i repeat to your face all his warm commendations of your integrity, your talents and usefulness? in short he declared that, if i loved you so sincerely as to prefer you to the young count, and you entertained similar sentiments in regard to me, he would cheerfully consent to our union.” at this explanation wilmsen's fears were dispelled, and gave place to the most ardent joy. thus passed one of the happiest hours of their lives. it was, perhaps, the last they should spend together. both avoided the subject of parting. “you were talk14 158 ghost stories. * ing this morning,” at length said emmeline, “about going to breslau: “you have given up that idea now, i hope ’’ “emmeline,” replied wilmsen, “rend not my heart with that question 1 i must go. i gave my word of honour, when life was of no value to me, because at that time i doubted your love; now, that i am just beginning to live, i am compelled to keep it.” he explained to her so forcibly that honour and duty alike forbade him to desert the comrades whom he had himself enlisted in the cause, warmly assuring her at the same time it would now be much more agreeable to him to stay than to go, that emmeline suddenly rose, and fell about his neck. “no,” said she, tenderly, “go; i am sensible that you cannot, must not be left behind. a thousand mothers, sisters, wives and brides will have to endure the same trial as i shall. my prayers shall attend you : i shall be ever with you!” the moment of departure arrived. wilmsen had fixed upon an inn about twelve miles from the city as the place of rendezvous for his young friends, who were to meet there at four in the afternoon. to this inn emmeline, accompanied by her aunt, to whom she had in a few words explained the footing on which she now stood with wilmsen, attended her lover. here carriages and horses were in readiness to convey the volunteers with all possible despatch beyond the frontiers; for on account of the daily departure of youths who travelled northward to join the prussian armies, the commandant began to keep a very watchful eye on the young people of the place. at the inn sixteen high-spirited companions were waiting for wilmsen, who was received by them with loud huzzas. they urged the utmost despatch, lest they should the green mantle of wenice. 159 be overtaken and detained by the commandant. the moment of separation soon arrived. friends of both sexes had accompanied most of the young adventurers from the city. the scene was deeply affecting. wilmsen and emmeline mutually vowed unchangeable affection: she was ready to faint, as he pressed her for the last time to her bosom ; when wilmsen, intoxicated with the happiness of finding himself so tenderly loved by her, confided to her ear the secret which had lain so long buried in his faithful heart. “emmeline,” whispered he “i am not wilmsen—i am guilielmo sponseri, the green mantle of venice.” at this moment there was a general cry of—“the gens d'armes are coming!” all eyes were instantly turned towards the city, and they actually beheld at a distance a detachment of those banditti approaching. the young volunteers jumped into the carriages that were waiting for them : stark tore wilmsen from the arms of emmeline, who was agitated almost to frenzy by the parting disclosure; and forcing him into a post-chaise, away they drove, with such a speed as to be soon safe from the pursuit of the gens d'armes, whose horses were too much jaded to proceed. emmeline lay in a deep swoon. the horrid execrations of the military, on account of their disappointment, recalled her to life, and to a sense of her forlorn situation. “guilielmo sponseri !” she repeatedly exclaimed, as though awaking from a frightful dream, and shuddering at the idea of having beheld that mysterious being returned from the grave: but the recollection of his warm lips, his sparkling eyes, his fervent embrace, soon stifled her rising horror, and convinced her that her young and handsome lover could not be the same being who 160 ghost stories. was so unaccountably implicated in the history of her house. on her return home the whole town was filled with rejoicing. orders had been received an hour before that all the military quartered there should break up the next morning, and proceed by forced marches to the north, where the warlike preparations of the russians and prussians gave reason to apprehend the speedy commencement of hostilities. the commandant himself packed up his baggage: and, by the dawn of the following day, the whole city was cleared of its uninvited guests. emmeline sorrowfully beheld them pass, for her fears represented to her that all those thousands of murderous weapons were about to be pointed at the heart of her guilielmo. she could not recover her composure the whole day. in the evening, fatigued with weeping and with the vagaries of her powerfully excited imagination, she was sitting alone at dusk, thinking of her absent lover, when some one gently rapped at the door, and in walked old tobias. emmeline started from her seat with horror and astonishment. tobias—who had been found with his throat cut—who had been dragged half putrified from the water —who had been recognised by so many—and who had then been consigned to the grave—tobias now stood neatly and sprucely dressed before her, and said with his usual simper: “don’t be frightened miss emmeline, it is only i.” “good heaven how is that possible f" exclaimed emmeline, who durst not believe her senses. tobias then briefly related his adventures. on that dreadful day when emmeline's father was taken into custody, wilmsen had thus addressed him:— “your master is accused of murder; to-morrow he is to the green mantle of venice. 161 be tried by a military commission—or in other words, tomorrow he will be shot. you are a worthy soul, and we all rely upon you. the * * * * have the watch; you are acquainted with these men; give them this wine as if from your master. be sure not to taste it yourself, and leave them by eleven o'clock. it will not kill any of the rascals, but it may throw them into a pretty long nap. when your master sees that the guard is asleep he will probably avail himself of the opportunity to attempt his escape; and, if he succeeds, depend upon it you shall be handsomely rewarded. you must not go home to-night; but to the house of the executioner, and there wait till i bring you farther instructions.” rebecca, the executioner's daughter, must have been previously apprised of the coming of old tobias, for she sat up for him, and leading him softly to an outbuilding in the rear of the house, and silencing the dogs kept in it, she made him up a couch of horse and cow hides. “in the morning,” continued old tobias, “the gens d’armes arrived, and asked rebecca, who was at the window, whether she had seen any thing of mr. mellinger, who had escaped in the night, and, as they were told, had taken this way. rebecca declared that she had seen no person, for she was but just up. “the fellow may nevertheless be here at last,' said one of the soldiers dismounting. “open the door, cried another, “we must have a search." as i could hear all that passed, i trembled in every limb; for if the scoundrels had found me in my hiding-place, it would have been all over with poor tobias. “rebecca immediately shut the window, and opening the house-door, out bounced at least a score of tremendous big dogs, barking most furiously. the man who had 14* 162 ghost stories. dismounted was on his horse again in a trice. “call off the dogs,' cried his companions; “the savage brutes bite like devils.” “they don't mind me,' replied rebecca, ‘and there is nobody else in the house.’ at that moment a dog seized one of the gens d'armes by the leg. he was preparing to fire at the animal, “fire away,’ cried lèebecca, pointedly ; “the dogs belong to our prince: we are obliged to send them twice a week to your marshal to hunt with. you will get yourselves into a fine scrape with him; for he is much fonder of the dogs, than of you.’ “sacre nom de dieu !' cried the fellows; and away they gallopped, boiling with rage, and pursued to a considerable distance by the dogs, while rebecca stood laughing and clapping her hands. she declared that if she had but set them on, the creatures would have torn every man of them to pieces. “in about a fortnight rebecca one night called me up, and told me that i was to get into a carriage at the door, in which i found a gentleman who did not speak a word. next morning, when it grew light, i perceived that it was mr. wachokovich, the wine-merchant at the corner of our street. we travelled with the utmost speed to hermanstadt, in transylvania, where he had business to transact, and there i lived under another name at the house of his parents. he told me that search was making for me, as i was charged with having given poison to the soldiers, and that while the enemy was in the country it would not be safe to return. three weeks since, mr. wachokovich, senior, was about to set off for this city: i could not stay any longer, and begged that he would take me with him. before we arrived i heard that the commandant was still here; i therefore stopped at rebecca's, and through her acquainted mr. wilmsen the green mantle of venice. 163 with my return. the girl was frightened when she first saw me. she insisted that i had drowned myself in the river, and that my body had been found and buried. mr. wilmsen, who came this afternoon to see me, solved the mystery. merely with a view to recover the two thousand dollars which he had been obliged to deposit with the commandant on my account, he had confirmed the notion that i was the drowned man ; many who knew better, to oblige him and to trick the commandant, coincided in the story, and so mr. wilmsen saved his money, and secured me from the farther pursuit of the gens d’armes.” “and where is my father ?” eagerly asked emmeline, who had listened to this story with the most intense interest. “i know not a word about him,” rejoined tobias with a look of concern. “he certainly went through the yard behind the executioner's house, for rebecca saw him; but whither, god above knows.” the entrance of the parents of little charlotte interrupted this conversation. the child had hitherto observed the strictest silence in regard to the murder of the courier. her father and mother had often tried by persuasions, entreaties, and threats, to induce her to relate the circumstances, but her constant reply was: “if i do, i shall be shot.” now that the commandant and his troops had marched away, and everybody assured her that the crew would never return, she felt herself at liberty, and gave a circumstantial account of the whole affair. they therefore lost no time in acquainting emmeline with every particular connected with the tragic story. mr. mellinger was driving through the wood, when the child perceived a beetle, of the species called by 164 ghost stories. naturalists scarabaeus sabulosus,” and as it was very beautiful, she wished to have it. the old gentleman made her hold the reins while he alighted, and, having caught the insect, ran a pin through its body and fastened it to the elbow of the chaise. such was the whole story of the atrocious murder. the commandant would most likely have released mr. mellinger the next morning, had he not escaped in the night. he was probably apprehensive of incurring a severe reprimand from his superiors, and the ridicule of the public, on account of the blunder which he had committed; and it was for this reason that he had threatened the child with death if she uttered a syllable concerning the affair. the story soon spread throughout the city and the adjacent country, and there was not a soul but heartily rejoiced in this confirmation of the innocence of mr. mellinger. emmeline now thought of acquainting her father, through the medium of the public papers, that he might return without danger, when he spared her the trouble, and arrived one evening safe and sound, to the great joy of his daughter and his whole house. after his escape he had first proceeded to raab in hungary, and thence to smyrna, where he lived in perfect security under a fictitious name. on the subject of his escape, or the interference of the green mantle, of which no secret was made by the loquacious jailer and his daughter, mr. mellinger would not say a word. “think no more of * this is a well-known species with elytra. it is green on the back, and each of the elytra has five white spots. the lower part of the body, the legs, and the antennae, are coppercoloured, with a bluish tinge. it is found on sandy soils, is very swift, and is thence vulgarly called, in germany, the courier. the green mantle of venice. 165 that,” said he abruptly; “time, it is to be hoped, will clear up the mystery. there are many things in the world which seem to border on the supernatural, but which are as simple in reality as the affair of the courier.” he deeply regretted the departure of wilmsen, especially since every one spoke of him in the highest terms. emmeline longed to be alone with her father, that she might acquaint him with her wishes and the secret of her love. at length, late in the evening, an opportunity occurred. her father had, during his absence, lost much of his calculating habits; he was all kindness and affection. in a transport of joy at finding his affairs in the most prosperous train, and his only child blooming in health and rich in charms and virtues, he pressed her to his enraptured heart. “my poor girl,” said he, “you have gone through a great deal here, but god has protected you. when far away, you were daily present to my thoughts, and the daily subject of my prayers. i have learned that wealth is perishable, and that man is a miserable being, when he has none about him that he loves; and therefore, in the hours of dreary solitude, i have often vowed to reward the filial tenderness with which you soothe my old age by the gratification of your wishes to the utmost in my power. tell me, my dear, how can i contribute to your happiness f" thus encouraged, emmeline revealed the secrets of her heart, reserving only the parting words of guilielmo. her father again clasped her in his arms. “wilmsen is poor,” replied he in a kind tone; “but he is a clever, industrious, and worthy young man. you love him. if god preserves his life amidst the dangers of his new career, and he remains faithful to you, i will bless your union.” 166 ghost stories. i became acquainted with guilielmo at breslau. after the battle of culm, i met him again among the wounded in the hospital at töplitz. he had been shot through the left foot, and was lying, with many more of my friends, on straw. he recollected me the moment i entered, and called me to his side. he was extremely pale, and his dark eyes appeared more brilliant than ever. over him was accidentally spread a green mantle, lent to him by an officer of a rifle regiment. i expressed my joy at finding him, in spite of his wound, in such excellent spirits. while we were thus conversing, we heard the rustling of straw on the opposite side of the room: it was a french officer who had been severely wounded and taken prisoner. he raised his seamed and ghastly face, and wildly staring for some time at my friend, he suddenly exclaimed:—“by all the devils, the green mantle of venice i know the terrific being !” vociferated he, in the frenzy of his fever, tearing the bloody bandages from his dissevered head; “the eternal night of death is the first day of the torments of hell.” with these words, foaming at the mouth, he rent open with his hands the three sabre wounds in his shattered skull, sunk back with a heart-piercing shriek on the straw, and expired in frightful convulsions. i sprang up and hastened to him, but he was dead. guilielmo recognised in him his old acquaintance the commandant, and related to me many of the atrocities by which he has doomed himself to eternal infamy. at this moment i was summoned to another room, where several more of my friends lay wounded: next morning, all such as could be removed were sent off to prague, and thus i had no opportunity of obtaining an explanation of the mysterious expressions of the commandant. the green mantle of venice. 167 some time afterwards my duty led me to prague. there i met with hundreds of acquaintance belonging to our army, who had been wounded and conveyed thither. and who were then, through the assiduous attention of the inhabitants, in a state of convalescence. so long as the history of my country exists, so long will it record, with the warmest gratitude, the humanity and kindness which the excellent females of prague lavished on our sick and wounded. i inquired after wilmsen, and was directed to a mansion, where, i was told, he had been treated as one of the family. i hastened thither; and there i found him, with an elderly gentleman on one side, and a most lovely girl on the other—mr. mellinger and emmeline. they had arrived but a few days before, to convey home the young soldier, who was declared incapable of farther service. all his friends, and half the city, as he afterwards wrote to me, went as far as the inn above mentioned to meet him. he was the only individual of the place who had fought at the bloody battle of culm under the victorious banners of german freedom. he was drawn in triumph into the town. the possession of emmeline now rewards him. the assertion at the outset that the story which the reader has here perused is perfectly true, renders it incumbent on me to subjoin a few explanatory observations respecting those circumstances which seem to have been the effects of supernatural agency, and which might, perhaps, otherwise produce a mischievous impression on weak minds. guilielmo was destined by his father to marry emmeline, with her fortune of two millions of dollars. though 168 ghost stories. he had no other attachment, he felt the greatest repugnance to unite himself for life to a person whom he had never seen, merely for the sake of money, with which heaven had already amply provided him, and without any reference to her person, or to the qualities of her heart and mind. out of filial duty, and because his father and all the senior clerks in his counting-house assured him that old mellinger was an able merchant, of whom much was to be learned, he left venice to complete his mercantile education under that gentleman, and, at the same time, to see his daughter emmeline. if he did not like her, he intended to acquaint his father frankly with his sentiments, and to beg him to relinquish his matrimonial speculation. some stages before he reached the place where mr. mellinger resided, guilielmo met with young wilmsen from bremen. as both were of a lively, open disposition, they soon became acquainted, and went, on their arrival, to the same inn, where they had a room between them. guilielmo had received directions from his father, who had apprised old mellinger that his son was coming, to call upon the latter immediately on his arrival; but, before he went to his house, he determined to make some inquiries concerning him and emmeline. he conceived that his object would be the more easily accomplished, if he were to assume the name of wilmsen, who was too ill to quit his chamber. wilmsen, to whom guilielmo explained his reason for this change of name, and who received from him the utmost kindness and attention, could not refuse to pass for the rich sponseri; and thus the one was taken for the other. emmeline, according to the information obtained by the green mantle of venice. 169 guilielmo, was very beautiful and accomplished, modest, good-tempered, and benevolent: in short, all concurred in her praise. some, it is true, added that she seemed to hold her head rather too high ; and others intimated that she had, indeed, had many admirers, but they supposed nothing short of a count or a duke would be accepted. of the father he heard nothing but what was bad: people went too far, perhaps, in their censure, and denied him a single good quality. the greatest part of his wealth, they said, was amassed by usury, extortion, and the most unjust means. they asserted, that when an opportunity for lucrative speculation presented itself, no consideration could deter him from engaging in it. guilielmo, brought up in principles of religion and integrity, resolved to have nothing to do with any of the family: though he might, perhaps, like emmeline, yet her fortune could not bring any blessing along with it, since it had been unjustly acquired. he thanked heaven that he had not introduced himself to mr. mellinger, and determined to return home; but an accident changed his mind. on the birthday of his beloved mother, guilielmo entered the cathedral and knelt down before the high altar to offer up his prayers for her happiness. on rising from the performance of this pious duty, his glance fell upon a female, kneeling at a little distance on the step above him, and wrapt in deep devotion. the fervent piety of her attitude and demeanour during the solemn service, and the exquisite beauty of her youthful face and figure, made an extraordinary impression upon him; and he protested within himself that he had never beheld so lovely a creature. when the service was over, the stranger rose and left 15 170 ghost stories. the church. guilielmo followed her at a distance. he saw her bestow charity on each of the cripples and mendicants who beset the porch of the cathedral; and silently admired the gestures, the gait, may, every movement, of the fair unknown. she turned into the street in which mr. mellinger resided. “if that”—thought guilielmo, and smiled without finishing the idea, for was it not possible that a hundred handsome young ladies might live in the same street with mr. mellinger ? she presently crossed over, with light step, to that side of the street on which the merchant’s house stood. “if that were emmeline”—thought he again, and his eye followed her with the most intense anxiety. as she approached mr. mellinger's, the neighbours all saluted her respectfully: she must live close by, that was evident. she stopped at his door—she knocked—tobias opened it, and the angel disappeared. “if that were emmeline,” repeated he in a low tone, standing still, with nothing but mr. mellinger's house in his eye, and nothing but the lovely stranger in his heart. he soon ascertained by his inquiries that the latter was, indeed, no other than emmeline. from this moment, his views were completely changed. with his wonted promptitude, he formed a plan for obtaining admission into mr. mellinger's house under a feigned name, that he might become better acquainted with emmeline; and intending, if he could gain her affections, merely for his own sake, while she was ignorant of his circumstances, to offer her his hand. he would afterwards employ all the means in his power to induce her father to abandon his unjust dealings, to make reparation wherever he had done injury, to restore all that he had not honourably acquired, and to become a bet. the green mantle of venice. 171 terman. then, indeed, he thought the blessing of hea ven might rest upon his union with emmeline. this plan was soon formed: in his opinion it was excellent; but no small difficulties attended the execution. upon some pretext or other, guilielmo might possibly obtain access to mr. mellinger, once, twice, or three times, to speak to him on business, and there their acquaintance would end; but as to seeing emmeline, that was quite out of the question, as she usually sat in her own apartment, and her father received all visitors who called on matters of business in his counting-house. the sudden death of young wilmsen, by the rupture of a blood-vessel, suggested to guilielmo, goaded by passion and solicited for the reformation of mr. mellinger, the mad scheme with which the reader is already acquainted. he had heard the report that the countinghouse was haunted, and he surmised that this notion might have originated in its vicinity to the church of the dissolved nunnery. in this way, he conceived, and in no other, was it possible to work upon the old gentleman: how he was to proceed in regard to emmeline he had not yet settled. the green mantle in which he appeared the first night to mr. mellinger belonged to wilmsen. the dead hand was procured for him from an anatomical theatre, by a young surgeon, with whom he had become acquainted at the table d'hôte, and chalk had done all that was necessary for his face. the porter at the sun inn had seen the green mantle quit the house, but not come back; for, after his appearance to mr. mellinger, guilielmo returned to wilmsen, with the mantle closely rolled up, and concealed under his arm. he spread it over the corpse, and thrust the 172 ghost stories. receipt of mr. mellinger into the sleeve. the iron wicket to the church-yard was not opened from within, as the eyes of old tobias had, in his fright, represented to him. the letter to old sponseri was not forwarded to venice, but given back to guilielmo, on his application at the post-office. as he produced the seal and handwriting at the office, no scruple was made to deliver the letter to him. the letter from venice, brought by express, was written and sent by guilielmo to an acquaintance who lived on the road thither, with a request that he would despatch it by special messenger, and free of expense, to mr. mellinger. guilielmo, when he took the trouble, could imitate his father's hand so exactly that nobody could distinguish the one from the other. the object of this letter was to confirm mr. mellinger in his belief of the reality of the apparition, and to strengthen the good effect produced by his words on the mind of the old gentleman. without any precise plan, but merely in case he should have occasion to remind mr. mellinger of the apparition, guilielmo had two other green mantles, made exactly like that which was buried with young wilmsen, and in which the uppermost button was wanting; he, therefore, cut off the top button of the other two. he then wrote, in a feigned hand, the italian billet, with reference to the undue means by which mr. mellinger had accumulated the greatest part of his property; tore it in three pieces, and shortly before the interment of young wilmsen, put one of the fragments into the pocket of the mantle, which was buried with the deceased. he had not yet fixed in his own mind the purpose to which the two other mantles were to be applied. he the green mantle of venice. 173 hoped that some opportunity would present itself for his appearing again to mr. mellinger; he would then leave the second mantle behind; and, as all good things ought to be three in number, if the old usurer still persisted in his hard-hearted courses, he might visit him a third time and drop the third mantle: after which, in the character of wilmsen, he would seek to contrive matters so that the first mantle should be dug up again, and the paper in it be compared with the pieces in the two other mantles. in this case he fully expected that the contents of the whole paper would shake the inmost soul of the selfish and avaricious mellinger, and produce the desired effect. he hoped to induce him to apply so much of his fortune as he had amassed by unjust means to beneficent purposes; he would next endeavour, if, upon farther acquaintance with emmeline he found the qualities of her heart to correspond with those of her person, to win her affections under the character of a young man of no property —and then, and not till then, did he hope, that the wealth of her father, thus purified, would bring a blessing upon himself and emmeline. the advertisement in the newspapers afforded him the wished-ſor opportunity of an introduction into mr. mellinger's house. the appearance of the first green mantle was attended with such beneficial effects, that there was no need for the other two. guilielmo acquired, by his intelligence and usefulness, such an ascendency over the mind of his employer, which was deeply affected by the words of the supposed apparition, that, in the character of young wilmsen, he had occasion only for friendly remonstrances, or the observation that god takes account of all our actions and judges us accordingly, to keep his awakened con15* 174 ghost stories. science in that path into which the green mantle had conducted it. the losses which befel mr. mellinger were a real cordial to guilielmo. he regarded them as circumstances that were indispensably necessary for purifying his property of his unjust acquisitions. what remained after these losses might, according to his ideas, be about as much as the old gentleman had amassed by honest and honourable means. the conversation on this subject between him and guilielmo, in which the latter dissembled his opinion merely for the purpose of sounding his employer, served to convince him that mr. mellinger's disposition was really changed, and that he considered his losses as judgments of the almighty. about this time guilielmo had thoughts of discovering himself. he had, from the first, made his father acquainted with his plan and his motives for adopting it. old sponseri approved the latter, though, as a sober, sedate man, he could not exactly commend the contrivance of the apparition: but since what was done could not be undone, and as the affair had produced the best effect on the character of old mellinger, he left his son to pursue the career he had marked out for himself, and to gain the affections of emmeline under the name of wilmsen. sincerely, therefore, did he rejoice with his wife when guilielmo wrote as follows:– “now i am convinced by a hundred little circumstances of emmeline's attachment —now let mr. guilielmo sponseri of venice, with a hundred still more wealthy suitors from all parts of the world, repair hither to solicit her hand, i am confident that emmeline will refuse them all, if poor wilmsen of bremen but says to her “be mine !' her father is a totally different man from what he was. all those who formerly the green mantle of wenice. 175 hated him now speak of him with affection and respect. i shall very soon resign the name of wilmsen to its deceased owner, and make my appearance as your son. i will declare to the father, the daughter, and the public, that i assumed it, to be sure that emmeline loved me for my own sake, and not on account of the wealth with which heaven has blessed us, and all will approve the innocent disguise. i shall only wait for a seasonable opportunity to unmask, and i think i shall choose emmeline's birth-day, which is the last day of next month, for the purpose.” the execution of this plan was prevented by the arrival of the corps d'armée mentioned in the narrative. in those turbulent times a union with emmeline was not to be thought of. it was more prudent, also, to pass, in the then state of political affairs, as the obscure wilmsen, than to avow himself the son of the rich sponseri of venice, which was groaning under the same military despotism. guilielmo was incensed beyond expression by the suspicion thrown upon old mellinger respecting the murder of the courier. he had conceived a strong attachment to him on account of his altered conduct; he deemed him incapable of the crime with which he was charged; and was acquainted from experience at venice with the extreme rapacity of the french generals: he knew that there were no means to which they would not resort, to fleece the opulent and to enrich themselves. he doubted, indeed, whether there was any design against the old man's life; but then who could tell what was the real cause of his apprehension ? the charge of having murdered the courier could not but be a mere pretext for securing his person. perhaps in some of his letters—and all 176 ghost stories. letters were then opened—he had dropped a word respecting napoleon or his agents; an indiscretion which, for a man of his wealth, might be visited with the forfeiture of many thousands; or—well aware of mr. mellinger's inveterate hatred to the french—he conceived that he might have been induced by it to enter into a prohibited correspondence with some person in russia or prussia, or even into contracts for the supply of the armies in those countries. in this case the military commission would not fail to pass sentence of death on him, and the whole of his property would be confiscated. he must therefore be rescued, cost what it would. ingenuity, promptitude and decision, devoted friends, and the liberal application of money, were the spells by which guilielmo, under the protection of providence, accomplished the deliverance of the old gentleman. the first thing he did was to engage one of his most intimate friends, young carera, the banker, to invite the commandant to an entertainment at his country-house, six or seven miles from town, where the rest of the company who were in the plot, and consisted chiefly of convivial spirits, were to ply him so briskly with wine as to render him incapable of any kind of business. by this expedient guilielmo gained time, and insured the absence of this wretch from the city. in the course of the afternoon, several officers rode over to obtain the necessary orders for examining mr. mellinger's papers; but the commandant piqued himself on his cunning in having obliged mr. mellinger to give up the keys of his chest, which he had at that moment in his own pocket, so that it was impossible for any suspicious papers to be removed. he therefore begged the officers to make themselves perfectly easy on that score, and to the green mantle of wenice. 177 sit down and fill their glasses, sagely observing that there would be another day after the present, and then they could go to mellinger's house, rummage his chests, and turn every thing topsy-turvy. carera and his boon companions, all devoted friends of wilmsen's, loudly applauded the ingenuity of the commandant, pressed the officers to join them, briskly circulated the bottle, and, to blind them more completely, inveighed against mellinger as though they had been his bitterest enemies. young stark, one of guilielmo's bosom friends, naturally quiet and reserved, and therefore neither remarked when pressed to attend such bouts as this nor missed when absent, hazarded a stroke which, had it failed, might have cost him his life. the commandant, incommoded by the heat of the day, and that occasioned by the old chambertin and st. perai, the jurançon and alicante which he had swallowed, complained several times of the tightness of his uniform. stark jocosely brought him a light mankeen morning-gown belonging to the master of the house, and begged him to put it on, adding, it was but right that he, as king of the feast, should be placed as much as possible at his ease. as the rest joined in this request, the commandant exchanged his cloth coat, heavy with gold, for the more commodious gown, and again sat down to enjoy himself without restraint. stark hung the uniform in an adjoining apartment, took mr. mellinger's keys out of the pocket, sprung upon carera's english hunter, which was standing ready saddled, galloped to the town, and delivered the keys to the astonished guilielmo, that he might remove all suspicious papers and secure the cash in the chest. meanwhile guilielmo had not been idle. pallasch, the 178 ghost stories. jailer, and sergeant wollmar, had been induced, by a handful of gold apiece, to admit guilielmo for a quarter of an hour to mr. mellinger. the latter had not the least notion of the cause of his apprehension. the report of the murder of the courier was now first communicated to him by guilielmo, and he solemnly declared that he had not been engaged in any correspondence or intercourse whatever with the enemies of the french. he acknowledged, that at first he was quite confounded, but merely from terror at the suddenness of the event; now, however, he felt more easy, being conscious that he had not committed any offence, and confidently expecting that, on his examination in the morning, his innocence would be so evident that he should be set at liberty. guilielmo, however, was not so sanguine. he observed that there had been instances enough, in which the french had not scrupled to sacrifice men quite as innocent as mr. mellinger; that it was a very hazardous experiment to trust to their tender mercies; and when once out of their clutches, his life, at least, would be safe. he therefore desired him to expect him at twelve that night, and to follow implicitly his directions. guilielmo then sounded pallasch and wollmar. the latter was luckily an infuriate enemy to the french, who thoroughly detested the mean, rapacious commandant. guilielmo offered them large sums if they would assist him in his plans. pallasch was soon gained over. wollmar, as far as regarded himself, was also well disposed to forward his views; but he was at a loss how to secure the connivance of the guard under his orders, or how to screen them from the punishment that would infallibly await them. “if, indeed,” added he, half in jest, “we could but trump up some ghost-story, and tell them the green mantle of venice. 179 that a spirit had carried off the prisoner—the rascals have such thick heads you might batter down walls with them —they would believe any thing, and swear through thick and thin that they had even seen the spectre. then, as to the commandant, he is only an old woman, who believes in fortune-telling, astrology, omens, and all sorts of nonsense—and why should he not believe in a ghost-story too !” these words decided guilielmo. he told them that the green mantle of venice should effect the release of the old gentleman; observing, that this was a spirit who was known to have already performed some feats in their town, and therefore the story would gain the more ready belief when it should be asserted that it was he who had liberated the prisoner. guilielmo now hurried home to make further arrangements, with the special design to contrive that the pieces of the paper deposited in the pockets of the three green mantles, and originally destined for mr. mellinger, but equally applicable to the universally execrated commandant, should fall into the hands of the latter. on his arrival he found his friend stark with the keys. the papers and books he left untouched; because he was assured by mr. mellinger, that there was nothing suspicious among them. he took out all the money, excepting about four thousand dollars, and then, putting the third green mantle into the the chest, he locked it, and despatched his friend with the keys. on the back of the piece of paper in the pocket of this mantle, a fragment of which, as we have seen, was buried with the first mantle, he had hastily written in the same hand as the lines in front, the words beginning: “pallasch and wollmar are innocent.” to find these words in the inside of a strong iron chest, 180 ghost stories. the key of which had, as he believed, been in his possession ever since the first minute of mr. mellinger's arrest, might well have astonished a man of more good sense and firmness of mind than the commandant could pretend to. who but a supernatural being could have known by anticipation that pallasch would have any thing to do with the affair? who could have guessed the name of the person who would have the command of the guard the most incredulous would have been at first startled on making such a discovery. the lines had such an effect on the weak mind of the commandant, that he implicitly complied with the injunction of the terrible green mantle, and durst not say a single word on the subject to either pallasch or wollmar. guilielmo, who imagined that emmeline's first wish would be to see her father, and that their interview might be injurious to his plans, gave the strictest orders to his confidants, pallasch and wollmar, not to suffer her to enter the prison. he was himself admitted soon after eleven o'clock by a private way, and introduced, enveloped in a green mantle, into the cell where mr. mellinger was confined. betty pallasch was purposely detained by the entertaining stories related by her father and wollmar, that she might be an additional witness of the appearance of the green mantle. her father had, likewise, told her several times to go to bed, that she might state the circumstance at her examinations; and thus obviate all suspicion of his having intentionally kept her up, that she might attest this or that. the girl could, therefore, swear with a good conscience that she saw the spectre with her own eyes, and heard with her own ears his fearful words. the green mantle of venice. 181 wollmar made up so dreadful a story to his soldiers' about the green mantle, in which he was corroborated by betty, that they, eager to catch at any excuse for their intoxication and drowsiness, were ready to swear the grossest falsehoods when brought before the commandant. guilielmo had taken care to leave the green mantle containing the third fragment of the paper within the prison-door, which betty had locked; while he retreated with mr. mellinger through the side entrance, and proceeded with all speed to the house of his friend carera, at whose garden-gate a light travelling carriage was waiting, which conveyed mr. mellinger, furnished with passports under a feigned name, to raab, whence he proceeded to smyrna. the sentry in front of the prison absconded, because wollmar had given out that he would infallibly be shot, as he insisted that he had neither seen nor heard any thing of the apparition. he concealed himself in the city, and it was not till after the departure of the commandant that he quitted his hiding-place. guilielmo had scented the two mantles with brimstone, and sprinkled them with vitriol, to give them the appearance of being in a state of corruption. little charlotte was brought a second time before the commandant after mr. mellinger's escape. it then came out that the old gentleman was perfectly innocent of the supposed murder of the courier; and that the whole aſfair had originated in a mistake. the commandant was ashamed of having made so much ado about nothing, and fearful lest he should thereby incur public ridicule, he threatened the child with death if ever she disclosed a syllable concerning what had passed, even to her parents. it is probable, too, that he might be desirous of keeping up 16 182 ghost stories. the notion of mr. mellinger's guilt, in order that he might have a plausible pretext for seizing his property. guilielmo had procured a number of persons, by bribery and various means, to depose to the fact of the body which was taken out of the water being that of old tobias: the multitude went with them without reflection, and the officer before whom the depositions were taken, being one of guilielmo's stanch friends, was not too particular in his investigation. the billet which emmeline received from her father, guilielmo had that morning received from smyrna, and he purposely sent it by an unknown messenger, at the time when he knew the commandant was with her. the courier despatched by the commandant to venice had been anticipated by a letter from guilielmo to his father, instructing him in what manner to reply. mr. mellinger's silence on the subject of his escape was occasioned by his having bound himself, by a solemn promise to guilielmo, not to reveal what had passed till he should absolve him in person. this promise guilielmo exacted with a view to secure himself and his house at venice from the resentment of the commandant and his crew: and as mr. mellinger, on his return home, had not seen guilielmo since his escape, he could not then of course have been released by him from his oath. he therefore only feigned at that time still to consider guilielmo as poor wilmsen. so much in explanation of the mysteries of the green mantle of venice. 183 the ghost of general marceau. the corpse of the french general of division, margeau, who fell in the battle of altenkirchen, in the year 1796, was conveyed to coblentz, and there publicly exhibited, lying in state two successive days, after which it was solemnly interred on a hill near the city, called the brunnenstube. this hill is directly opposite to the fortress of ehrenbreitstein, from which it is parted only by the rhine. scarcely had a fortnight elapsed, when a report was universally circulated that the general's ghost haunted the hill. several persons declared that they had seen him distinctly, walking, between twelve and one o'clock at night, on the bank of the rhine, in the chasseur uniform, (which he had usually worn when alive,) and armed with a drawn sabre. the sentries themselves, who were posted in that quarter, had actually been, at different times, obliged to fall back by him. the reflecting part of the inhabitants of coblentz, indeed, suspected some imposture, but none of them had the heart to siſt the matter to the bottom. at length, there appeared a student, bold and enterprising enough to attempt to cope single-handed with the spirit of this general, who, while living, had been distinguished for his intrepidity. he went accordingly one moonlight night, about eleven o'clock, as he conceived, with due caution, all alone, to the place where the spectre had been frequently seen. his arrangements consisted 184 ghost stories. solely in arming himself with a sword and pistols, and in concerting with some of his comrades, that, in case he should not return by a certain time, they should go to his assistance. his friends, having waited for him in vain till two o'clock, began to be apprehensive for his safety. another hour passed, and still he did not come back according to promise; they then went in quest of him, but he was nowhere to be found. the morning began to dawn, when they met a messenger who had been sent off to them from the neighbouring village. they asked him if he had seen a young gentleman, describing him, anywhere on his way. he replied, that a person, no doubt the same after whom they were inquiring, was lying at metternich in a violent fever: if so, he was desired to inform them of the circumstance, that they might fetch him away. they immediately hastened thither, curious to hear the history of his adventure with the spirit, and removed him to his own home. after the young exorcist had somewhat recovered from the vehement fright into which he had been thrown, and completely regained the use of his faculties, he related to them what follows:— “i had scarcely been a quarter of an hour on the bank of the river, before the spirit appeared in the well-known french chasseur uniform. i went resolutely to meet it, with my drawn sword in one hand, and pistol cocked in the other. the spectre, not in the least daunted, advanced straight towards me, and was not above six paces off, when a horror, that i cannot describe, all at once came over me. my blood curdled; my courage failed me; i dropped, involuntarily, both sword and pistol, and ran as fast as my legs would carry me to metternich. i wished general marceau’s ghost. 185 several times to look back, to see whether the spectre was pursuing me, but for my life i durst not. though i am still firmly convinced that this is not a real ghost, yet i was heartily glad when, quite exhausted, i reached the village, and had again some of my fellow-creatures about me.” this awkward adventure, which soon became publicly known, excited a good deal of merriment, but yet not a creature manifested any inclination for a second rencontre with the apparition. the french commandant of coblentz at length resolved to investigate the matter more closely. his plan was, after posting sentries at every point, to go in person to meet the spectre. all his arrangements were made with the utmost secrecy, and every man was at his post. scarcely had the clock at coblentz struck twelve, when the spirit of the deceased general made its appearance. the commandant, whose heart was in the right place, made directly up to it; and, at the same time, ordered the soldiers, posted at some distance, to advance. they surrounded the ghost, who, nevertheless, fought most furiously, till a brave grenadier, seizing him from behind, held him fast till his comrades, whom he cheered with the assurance that the spectre had flesh and bone, came up to his assistance. the incarnate spirit was taken alive, disarmed, and carried prisoner to coblentz, where he was confined in the guard-house. at his examination, the next day, he confessed that he was a waterman, and that he had undertaken to act the part of general marçeau's ghost, in order that his comrades might, during his appearance in that character, cross the rhine with greater security, and convey to the blockaded fortress of ehrenbreitstein supplies of provisions, for which they received a high price. 16* 186 the haunted inn. [the following story, which we recollect to have heard from an uncle of ours, more than thirty years since, will be perused by most of our readers with additional interest, from its evidently being the identical german legend on which is founded the opera of bellini, “la sonnambula,” to which the talents of malibran, mrs. wood, and mrs. seguin, have given such remarkable eclat.] robert was a rich innkeeper in a town on the upper rhine. all at once, however, custom fell off; for travellers who had been in the habit of putting up with him, either avoided the place entirely, or preferred the inferior accommodations of another inn. the cause of this decline was, that his house was haunted by a ghost; and what traveller, weary with his journey, would like to have his rest broken at night by the pranks of a spectre : sigismund, a distant relative, who had an eye on the fair rosina, the only daughter of the host, had of late years been frequently in this house, either on visits to the family, or when travelling upon business. he slept always in the same room, in the upper story; and there he made the discovery, so unlucky to his kinsman, that the house was haunted. one night, when all the family had retired to bed, sigismund was roused by the spectre. almost beside himself with terror, he rushed out in his shirt, ready to break his neck down stairs, and called up the master of the house. with difficulty robert drew from him an explanation respecting the cause of such vehement alarm. having at length somewhat recovered from the fright occasioned by the haunted inn. 187 the apparition, he gave the landlord the following account :— “i was fast asleep, when a white, death-like figure opened my door, which i had locked before i went to bed. the noise awoke me. the spectre had a bunch of keys in one hand, and in the other a lamp which gave but a feeble light. it walked past my bed, paced the room several times, then set the lamp down on the table and slipped into bed to me. i endeavoured to cry out, but could not. fear and horror paralysed my senses. god knows how i got out of bed without falling a prey to the hideous apparition 1’’ the trembling robert awoke his people, and he ventured, in their company and well armed, to approach the haunted chamber. he found the door fast: sigismund, as far as he could recollect, had pulled it after him, that the ghost might have less chance of overtaking him in his flight. as the key had been left on the table that stood by the bed-side, it was found necessary to fetch the master-key before they could gain admission. this was accordingly done; and all eyes looked round for the spectre, but in vain—it was gone. sigismund, however, durst not resume possession of his deserted bed for the remainder of the night. robert could not tell what to think of the story of his kinsman. he was too well acquainted with his character to suspect deception; he supposed that he was not a great coward: he had, therefore, no just cause to doubt the accuracy of his statement. at the same time he was vexed when he reflected that the spectre might think fit to return : his house would, in consequence, get a bad name, and his business might be ruined. to investigate the matter more closely, he repaired the following night, accompanied by his trusty servant peter, well armed, to the 188. ghost stories. haunted chamber. he assigned to peter the post of danger and honour by the door, while he himself took possession of an easy chair, at the remotest corner of the room. the great house-lantern, containing a lighted candle, was placed on the table. long did they thus wait in vain for the visit of the spectre. both of them found it difficult to keep their eyes open, and nothing but the supposed danger of their enterprise furnished them with unusual powers of vigilance. sleep nevertheless began to exercise its despotic sway over the landlord. peter meanwhile heard, as he thought, something coming up stairs, and imagined that he could distinguish soft steps. the effect on his sleepy senses was powerful and instantaneous. he gave his master notice of the impending attack. sleep, however, had completely overpowered the landlord; and under these circumstances peter deemed himself justified in leaving his post, and rousing his master by no very gentle shake to the conflict. both trembling drew their cutlasses and took post behind the arm-chair. the spectre was already at the door, and the bunch of keys which it carried rattled like chains. the door opened, and the figure of a living corpse presented itself. it was covered from head to foot by a white shroud, walked twice round the room, and then glided with a deep sigh into the bed. glad to see the coast thus far clear, robert seized the lantern and made a precipitate retreat down stairs, not only leaving his arms in the possession of the enemy, but, in his haste, dashing the lantern with such force against the balusters that it was shattered to pieces. peter, who, at the first appearance of the spectre, had squeezed his eyes together, and in his fright commended his soul to all the saints, had meanwhile sunk on the floor behind the arm-chair. he saw nothing, heard but little * the haunted inn. 189 of what was passing about him, and awaited his fate with patient resignation. the crash of the lantern, which should have recalled his senses, only served to increase his stupefaction. fatigued and exhausted with terror, he sunk into the arms of sleep, and was found in the morning snoring at full length on the floor behind the arm-chair. robert hurried back to bed, without undressing, and covered himself over head and ears in the clothes; so low had his courage fallen. the cheering light of day, which dispels fear, and restores courage to the faint-hearted, once more raised robert's spirits. accompanied by his people, he went in quest of his lost attendant, to the place where he had left him. he rejoiced sincerely that the spectre had not bodily carried off the poor fellow. the adventure of the night was soon known to all the towns-folk. the more sensible of them laughed heartily at the landlord's absurd conduct, and called him a stupid, superstitious, chicken-hearted coward. this language soon reached his ears, and vexed him to such a degree, that he repaired to the burgomaster of the town, made affidavit of the particulars of the affair, and requested the magistrate to take measures for ascertaining the reality of the apparition, and the truth of his supernatural adventure; that he might retrieve his lost honour in the estimation of the incredulous public. the magistrate complied with his request, and the town-sergeant was sent with four courageous fellows to pass the next night in the haunted chamber. whether the spirit deemed its opponents in this instance too formidable, or whether it had actually decamped, so much is certain, that it did not think fit to show itself to the party which was anxious for its appearance. the men repaired 190 ghost stories. to their post the two succeeding nights, but the obstinate ghost was not to be seen. robert had thus put himself to a useless expense; and, if he had previously been the talk of the whole town, he now became the butt of general ridicule. it was not long before sigismund, in company with a friend, again passed through the place. he was informed that the spectre had terrified the landlord and peter almost out of their lives; and he resolved not to sleep any more at his kinsman's. the courteous solicitations of the fair rosina, however, had great influence over him : he ventured once more to lodge under the same roof with her, but only on the express condition that he should not lie in the haunted chamber. his friend, however, desirous of an interview with a ghost, insisted on having a bed prepared for him in the very room which the spirit had been accustomed to visit. the landlord was not a little gratified to think that he had at last met a person willing to avenge, as he termed it, the honour of his house. sigismund's friend took his measures with coolness and deliberation. he placed on the table by his bed a brace of loaded pistols, provided himself with a couple of candles, in addition to the night-lamp, went to bed unconcerned, slept soundly, and awoke next morning without hearing or seeing any thing of a spirit. he endeavoured to impress upon the mind of his companion the silliness of his fears, and begged him as a friend to bear him company the following night. sigismund, sensible that his friend's exhortations were well-meant, plucked up a spirit and repaired with him at bed-time to his former chamber. towards mid-night faint steps were heard ascending the stairs, and slowly approaching nearer and nearer to the room. the same the haunted inn. 191 pale spectre, dressed in white, which had terrified him once before, again made its appearance. sigismund, overwhelmed with horror, never thought of the pistols, which lay near the bed, but again sought safety in flight, leaving his friend to cope by himself with the ghost. his fellow-traveller closely watched the apparition. it approached him; and he could not help shuddering, when he saw it preparing to get into bed to him; he sprung out, and had a good mind not only to quit that, but, like sigismund, to abandon the field altogether. on second thoughts, however, he mustered courage, seized a pistol in one hand, and a candle in the other, drew back a little, and thus awaited what was to happen. the ghost seemed to take no notice of its armed antagonist, but so much the more closely did he watch the apparition. it seemed to be of the female sex, to judge from the bosom, which was not very carefully covered. he approached nearer to the bed, on which the unwelcome visitor lay most quietly, and scrutinized its features. heavens ! how agreeably was he surprised, to recognise in the slumbering figure the lovely rosina | for fear of disturbing the fair night-walker, he durst not, though strongly tempted, steal a single kiss, but softly quitted the room to call her parents and his friend. none of them, however, was in any hurry to obey the summons. the jocose and confident manner in which their guest spoke of his discovery, and a word which he whispered in the ear of the landlady, induced the latter to follow him alone to the haunted chamber, for the purpose of ascertaining the nature of the nocturnal apparition. robert and sigismund sneaked after the advanced guard, and, before they ventured to go into the chamber, cautiously peeped in at the door, while the mother's eyes had been for some time fondly fixed on her darling. she 192 ghost stories. knew from former experience that rosina had a pre-disposition to walking in her sleep, and she was toothoroughly convinced of her virtue and innocence to attribute her being in such a situation to any other cause than that singular disorder. it was long before robert would trust either the assurances of his better half or his own senses; till at last rosina herself furnished evidence too strong to be resisted. she quitted the bed with her eyes shut, took up the nightlamp which had gone out, and walked through the astonished company, who made way for her, out of the room. they followed her in silence, because they had either not had sufficient presence of mind to wake her at first, or because they wished to spare her the embarrassment of so awkward a situation. she found the way down stairs, to her chamber. all retired again to rest, and sigismund, in particular, resumed the place which his rosina had occupied with very different feelings from those with which he had left it. the inference which he drew in regard to her sentiments towards him from her behaviour in the liveliest of all dreams, could not but be exceedingly flattering to him. nothing therefore could prevent him next morning from making rosina a formal offer of his hand, and explaining to her parents his further views. they had little to object, and the heart of rosina still less. thus the horror and apprehension of a supernatural visitation terminated in a joyous wedding, which was consummated in the same chamber where the innocent rosina had twice filled her lover with inexpressible alarm. the end. |• • • • • • * * -----~~~~） 186 the haunted inn. [the following story, which we recollect to have heard from an uncle of ours, more than thirty years since, will be perused by most of our readers with additional interest, from its evidently being the identical german legend on which is founded the opera of bellini, “la sonnambula,” to which the talents of malibran, mrs. wood, and mrs. seguin, have given such remarkable eclat.] rorert was a rich innkeeper in a town on the upper rhine. all at once, however, custom fell off; for travellers who had been in the habit of putting up with him, either avoided the place entirely, or preferred the inferior accommodations of another inn. the cause of this decline was, that his house was haunted by a ghost; and what traveller, weary with his journey, would like to have his rest broken at night by the pranks of a spectre : sigismund, a distant relative, who had an eye on the fair rosina, the only daughter of the host, had of late years been frequently in this house, either on visits to the family, or when travelling upon business. he slept always in the same room, in the upper story; and there he made the discovery, so unlucky to his kinsman, that the house was haunted. one night, when all the family had retired to bed, sigismund was roused by the spectre. almost beside himself with terror, he rushed out in his shirt, ready to break his neck down stairs, and called up the master of the house. with difficulty robert drew from him an explanation respecting the cause of such vehement alarm. having at length somewhat recovered from the fright occasioned by the haunted inn. 187 the apparition, he gave the landlord the following account :“i was fast asleep, when a white, death-like figure opened my door, which i had locked before i went to bed. the noise awoke me. the spectre had a bunch of keys in one hand, and in the other a lamp which gave but a feeble light. it walked past my bed, paced the room several times, then set the lamp down on the table and slipped into bed to me. i endeavoured to cry out, but could not. fear and horror paralysed my senses. god knows how i got out of bed without falling a prey to the hideous apparition l’’ the trembling robert awoke his people, and he ventured, in their company and well armed, to approach the haunted chamber. he found the door fast: sigismund, as far as he could recollect, had pulled it after him, that the ghost might have less chance of overtaking him in his flight. as the key had been left on the table that stood by the bed-side, it was found necessary to fetch the master-key before they could gain admission. this was accordingly done; and all eyes looked round for the spectre, but in vain—it was gone. sigismund, however, durst not resume possession of his deserted bed for the remainder of the night. robert could not tell what to think of the story of his kinsman. he was too well acquainted with his character to suspect deception; he supposed that he was not a great coward: he had, therefore, no just cause to doubt the accuracy of his statement. at the same time he was vexed when he reflected that the spectre might think fit to return: his house would, in consequence, get a bad name, and his business might be ruined. to investigate the matter more closely, he repaired the following night, accompanied by his trusty servant peter, well armed, to the 188. ghost stories. haunted chamber. he assigned to peter the post of danger and honour by the door, while he himself took possession of an easy chair, at the remotest corner of the room. the great house-lantern, containing a lighted candle, was placed on the table. long did they thus wait in vain for the visit of the spectre. both of them found it difficult to keep their eyes open, and nothing but the supposed danger of their enterprise furnished them with unusual powers of vigilance. sleep nevertheless began to exercise its despotic sway over the landlord. peter meanwhile heard, as he thought, something coming up stairs, and imagined that he could distinguish soft steps. the effect on his sleepy senses was powerful and instantaneous. he gave his master notice of the impending attack. sleep, however, had completely overpowered the landlord; and under these circumstances peter deemed himself justified in leaving his post, and rousing his master by no very gentle shake to the conflict. both trembling drew their cutlasses and took post behind the arm-chair. the spectre was already at the door, and the bunch of keys which it carried rattled like chains. the door opened, and the figure of a living corpse presented itself. it was covered from head to foot by a white shroud, walked twice round the room, and then glided with a deep sigh into the bed. glad to see the coast thus far clear, robert seized the lantern and made a precipitate retreat down stairs, not only leaving his arms in the possession of the enemy, but, in his haste, dashing the lantern with such force against the balusters that it was shattered to pieces. peter, who, at the first appearance of the spectre, had squeezed his eyes together, and in his fright commended his soul to all the saints, had meanwhile sunk on the floor behind the arm-chair. he saw nothing, heard but little the haunted inn. 189 of what was passing about him, and awaited his fate with patient resignation. the crash of the lantern, which should have recalled his senses, only served to increase his stupefaction. fatigued and exhausted with terror, he sunk into the arms of sleep, and was found in the morning snoring at full length on the floor behind the arm-chair. robert hurried back to bed, without undressing, and covered himself over head and ears in the clothes; so low had his courage fallen. the cheering light of day, which dispels fear, and restores courage to the faint-hearted, once more raised robert's spirits. accompanied by his people, he went in quest of his lost attendant, to the place where he had left him. he rejoiced sincerely that the spectre had not bodily carried off the poor fellow. the adventure of the night was soon known to all the towns-folk. the more sensible of them laughed heartily at the landlord's absurd conduct, and called him a stupid, superstitious, chicken-hearted coward. this language soon reached his ears, and vexed him to such a degree, that he repaired to the burgomaster of the town, made affidavit of the particulars of the affair, and requested the magistrate to take measures for ascertaining the reality of the apparition, and the truth of his supernatural adventure; that he might retrieve his lost honour in the estimation of the incredulous public. the magistrate complied with his request, and the town-sergeant was sent with four courageous fellows to pass the next night in the haunted chamber. whether the spirit deemed its opponents in this instance too formidable, or whether it had actually decamped, so much is certain, that it did not think fit to show itself to the party which was anxious for its appearance. the men repaired 190 ghost stories. to their post the two succeeding nights, but the obstinate ghost was not to be seen. robert had thus put himself to a useless expense; and, if he had previously been the talk of the whole town, he now became the butt of general ridicule. it was not long before sigismund, in company with a friend, again passed through the place. he was informed that the spectre had terrified the landlord and peter almost out of their lives; and he resolved not to sleep any more at his kinsman's. the courteous solicitations of the fair rosina, however, had great influence over him : he ventured once more to lodge under the same roof with her, but only on the express condition that he should not lie in the haunted chamber. his friend, however, desirous of an interview with a ghost, insisted on having a bed prepared for him in the very room which the spirit had been accustomed to visit. the landlord was not a little gratified to think that he had at last met a person willing to avenge, as he termed it, the honour of his house. sigismund's friend took his measures with coolness and deliberation. he placed on the table by his bed a brace of loaded pistols, provided himself with a couple of candles, in addition to the night-lamp, went to bed unconcerned, slept soundly, and awoke next morning without hearing or seeing any thing of a spirit. he endeavoured to impress upon the mind of his companion the silliness of his fears, and begged him as a friend to bear him company the following might. sigismund, sensible that his friend's exhortations were well-meant, plucked up a spirit and repaired with him at bed-time to his former chamber. towards mid-night faint steps were heard ascending the stairs, and slowly ap. proaching nearer and nearer to the room. the same the haunted inn. 191 pale spectre, dressed in white, which had terrified him once before, again made its appearance. sigismund, overwhelmed with horror, never thought of the pistols, which lay near the bed, but again sought safety in flight, leaving his friend to cope by himself with the ghost. his fellow-traveller closely watched the apparition. it approached him; and he could not help shuddering, when he saw it preparing to get into bed to him; he sprung out, and had a good mind not only to quit that, but, like sigismund, to abandon the field altogether. on second thoughts, however, he mustered courage, seized a pistol in one hand, and a candle in the other, drew back a little, and thus awaited what was to happen. the ghost seemed to take no notice of its armed antagonist, but so much the more closely did he watch the apparition. it seemed to be of the female sex, to judge from the bosom, which was not very carefully covered. he approached nearer to the bed, on which the unwelcome visitor lay most quietly, and scrutinized its features. heavens ! how agreeably was he surprised, to recognise in the slumbering figure the lovely rosina | for fear of disturbing the fair night-walker, he durst not, though strongly tempted, steal a single kiss, but softly quitted the room to call her parents and his friend. none of them, however, was in any hurry to obey the summons. the jocose and confident manner in which their guest spoke of his discovery, and a word which he whispered in the ear of the landlady, induced the latter to follow him alone to the haunted chamber, for the purpose of ascertaining the nature of the nocturnal apparition. robert and sigismund sneaked after the advanced guard, and, before they ventured to go into the chamber, cautiously peeped in at the door, while the mother's eyes had been for some time fondly fixed on her darling. she 192 ghost stories. knew from former experience that rosina had a pre-disposition to walking in her sleep, and she was too thoroughly convinced of her virtue and innocence to attribute her being in such a situation to any other cause than that singular disorder. it was long before robert would trust either the assurances of his better half or his own senses; till at last rosina herself furnished evidence too strong to be resisted. she quitted the bed with her eyes shut, took up the nightlamp which had gone out, and walked through the astonished company, who made way for her, out of the room. they followed her in silence, because they had either not had sufficient presence of mind to wake her at first, or because they wished to spare her the embarrassment of so awkward a situation. she found the way down stairs, to her chamber. all retired again to rest, and sigismund, in particular, resumed the place which his rosina had occupied with very different feelings from those with which he had left it. the inference which he drew in regard to her sentiments towards him from her behaviour in the liveliest of all dreams, could not but be exceedingly flattering to him. nothing therefore could prevent him next morning from making rosina a formal offer of his hand, and explaining to her parents his further views. they had little to object, and the heart of rosina still less. thus the horror and apprehension of a supernatural visitation terminated in a joyous wedding, which was consummated in the same chamber where the innocent rosina had twice filled her lover with inexpressible alarm. the end. *: ~--~ | -* iiii 3 2044 037 447 711 the borrower must return this item on or before the last date stamped below. if another user places a recall for this item, the borrower will be notified of the need for an earlier return. non-receipt of overdue notices does not exempt the borrower from overdue fines. harvard college widener library cambridge, ma 02138 617-495-2413 widener apr 1 3 2004 may 2 2004 please handle with care. thank you for helping to preserve library collections at harvard. uc-nrlf b m os1 715 i vowl ibowra with tbe (bfeot m 0808. hours with the ghosts, or 19th century witchcraft. by henry ridgi<ey evans. illustrated investigations into the realms of spiritualism and theosophy. 297 pages, bound in cloth. price, *j 1 oo educ. psych. librabf the library of the university of california the john j. and hanna m. mcmanus morris n. and chesley v. young collection hours with the ghosts lee's library or occult science hours with the ghosts ; by or xix century witchcraft henry r. evans. practical palmistry; by or hand reading made easy comte c. de saint -germain. herrmann the magician; by his life ; his secrets h.j. burlingame. all profusely illustrated. bound in holliston cloth, burnished red top, uncut edges. each, si. 00 spirit photograph. [taken by the author.] hours with the ghosts or nineteenth century witchcraft illustrated investigations into the phenomena of spiritualism and theosophy by henry ridgely evans the first duty we owe to the world is truth all the truth nothing but the truth. "ancient wisdom." chicago laird & lee, publishers entered according to act of congress, in the year eighteen hundred and ninety-seven. by william h. lee, in the office of the librarian of congress, at washington. gift m. library to my wife 261 " it is no proof of wisdom to refuse to examine certain phe nomena because we think it certain that they are impossible, as if our knowledge of the universe were already completed. " prof. lodge. "the most ardent spiritist should welcome a searching in quiry into the potential faculties of spirits still in the flesh. until we know more of these, those other phenomena to which he appeals must remain unintelligible because isolated, and are likely to be obstinately disbelieved because they are impos sible to understand."^. w. h. myers: "proceedings of the society for psychical research?' part xviii, april, 1891. table of contents. author's preface 11 introductory argument 13 part first: spiritualism 18 /. divisions of the subject 18 //. subjective phenomena 23 1. telepathy 23 2. table tilting. muscle reading 40 ///. physical phenomena 46 1. psychography or slatewriting 46 2. the master of the mediums: d. d. home 93 3. rope tying and holding mediums; materiali zations 135 the davenport brothers 135 annie eva fay 149 charles slade 154 pierre l. o. a. keeler 160 eusapia paladino 175 f. w. tabor 182 4. spirit photography 188 5. thought photography 197 6. apparitions of the dead 201 iv. conclusions 207 part second: madame blavatsky and the theoso phists 210 /. the priestess 213 ii. whatis theosophy? 237 ///. madame blavatsky' s confession 250 iv. the writings of madame blavatsky 265 v. the life and death of a famous theosophist. . . 268 vi. the mantle of madame blavatsky 272 vii. the theosophical temple 287 viii. conclusion 290 list of authorities. . . 298 illustrations. pags. fig. 1. spirit photograph, by the author frontispiece fig. 2. portrait of dr. henry slade 47 fig. 3. the holding of the slate 51 fig. 4. slate no. 1 65 fig. 5. slateno.2 71 fig. 6. slate no. 3 77 fig. 7. home at the tuileries 97 fig. 8. crookes' apparatus no. 1 116 fig. 9. crookes' apparatus no. 1 119 fig. 10. crookes' apparatus no. 1 120 fig. 11. crookes' apparatus no. 1 121 fig. 12, 13, 14, 15. crookes' diagrams 124-125 fig. 16. crookes' apparatus no. 2 . . 126 fig. 17. crookes' apparatus no. 2 127 fig. 18, 19, 20. crookes' diagrams 128-130 fig. 21. hammond's apparatus 133 fig. 22. the davenport's in their cabinet 139 fig. 23. trick tie and in cabinet work 143 fig. 24. charles slade's poster 158-159 fig. 25. pierre keeler's cabinet seance 162 fig. 26. pierre keeler's cabinet curtain 163 fig. 27. portrait of eusapia paladino 176 fig. 28. eusapia before the scientists 177 fig. 29. spirit photograph, by the author 191 fig. 30. spirit photograph, by pretended medium 195 fig. 31. sigel's original picture of fig. 30 199 fig. 32. portrait of madame blavatsky 215 fig. 33. mahatma letter 221 fig. 34. mahatma envelope 225 fig. 35. portrait of col. h. s. olcott 233 fig. 36. oath of secrecy of the charter members of the theosophical society 235 fig. 37. portrait of w. q. judge 241 fig. 38. portrait of mrs. annie besant 273 fig. 39. portrait of mrs. tingley 285 fig. 40. autograph of madame blavatsky 293 preface. there are two great schools of thought in the world materialistic and spiritualistic. with one, matter is all in all, the ultimate substratum ; mind is merely the result of organized matter ; everything is translated into terms of force, motion and the like. with the other, spirit or mind is the ultimate substance god ; matter is the visible expression of this invisible and eternal con sciousness. materialism is a barren, dreary, comfortless belief \ and, in the opinion of the author, is without philosophical foundation. this is an age of scientific materialism, although of late years that materialism has been rather on the wane among thinking men. in an age of such ultra materialism i therefore, it is not strange that there should come a great reaction on the part of spiritually minded people. this reaction takes the form of an in creased vitality of dogmatic religion, or else culminates in the formation of spiritualistic or theosophic societies for the prosecution of occult phenomena^ spiritualists are now numbered by the million. persons calling them selves mediums present certain phenomena, physical and psychical, and call public attention to them, as an evi dence of life beyond the grave, and the possibility of spiritual communication between this world and the next. the author has had sittings with many famous mediums of this country and europe, but has seen little to convince him of the fact of spirit communication. the slate tests and so-called materializations have invariably been frauds. some experiments along the line of auto matic writing and psychometry, however, have demon strated to the writer the truth of telepathy or thought transference. the theory of telepathy explains many of the marvels ascribed to spirit intervention in things mundane. in this work the author has endeavored to give an accurate account of the lives and adventures of cele brated mediums and occultists, which will prove of interest to the reader. the rise and growth of the theosophical cult in this country and europe is of historical interest. theosophy pretends to a deeper metaphysics than spirit ualism, and numbers its adherents by the thousands; it is, therefore, intensely interesting to study it in its origin, its founder and its present leaders. the author. hours with the ghosts. introductory argument. "if a man die, shall he live again?" this is the ques tion of the ages, the sphinx riddle that humanity has been trying to solve since time began. the great minds of antiquity, socrates, pythagoras, plato and aristotle were firm in their belief in the immortality of the soul. the writings of plato are luminous on the subject. the mysteries of isis and osiris, as practiced in egypt, and those of eleusis, in greece, taught the doctrine of the immortality of the individual being. the divine master of arcane knowledge, christ, proclaimed the same. in latter times,we have had such metaphysical and scientific thinkers as leibnitz, fichte, schclling, hegel and schleiermacher advocating individual existence be yond the grave. 13 i 4 introductory argument. it is a strange fact that the more materialistic the age, the deeper the interest in spiritual questions. the vi tality and persistence of the belief in the reality of the spiritual world is evidence of that hunger for the ideal, for god, of which the psalmist speaks "as the heart panteth after water brooks so panteth my soul after thee, o god!" through the passing centuries, we have come into a larger, nobler conception of the universal life, and our relations to that life, in which we live, move, and have our being. granting the existence of an "eternal and infinite spirit, the intellectual organizer of the mathe matical laws which the physical forces obey," and con ceiving ourselves as individualized points of life in the greater life, we are constrained to believe that we bear within us the undying spark of divinity and immortality. evolution points to eternal life as the final goal of self conscious spirit, else this mighty earth-travail, the long ages of struggle to produce man are utterly without meaning. speaking of a future life, john fiske, a lead ing american exponent of the doctrine of evolution, says ("the destiny of man"): "the doctrine of evolution does not allow us to take the atheistic view of the position of man. it is true that modern astronomy shows us giant balls of vapor introductory argument. 15 condensing into fiery suns, cooling down into planets fit for the support of life, and at last growing cold and rigid in death, like the moon. and there are indications of a time when systems of dead planets shall fall in upon their central ember that was once a sun, and the whole lifeless mass, thus regaining heat, shall expand into a nebulous cloud like that with which we started, that the work of condensation and evolution may begin over again. these titanic events must doubtless seem to our limited vision like an endless and aimless series of cosmical changes. from the first dawning of life we see all things working together toward one mighty goal, the evolution of the most exalted spiritual qualities which characterize humanity. the body is cast aside and re turns to the dust of which it was made. the earth, so marvelously wrought to man's uses, will also be cast aside. so small is the value which nature sets upon the perishable forms of matter! the question, then, is re duced to this: are man's highest spiritual qualities, into the production of which all this creative energy has gone, to disappear with the rest? are we to regard the creator's work as like that of a child, who builds houses out of blocks, just for the pleasure of knocking them down? for aught that science can tell us, it may be so, jg introductory argument. but i can see no good reason for believing any such thing." a scientific demonstration of immortality is declared to be an impossibility. but why go to science for such a demonstration? the question belongs to the domain of philosophy and religion. science deals with physical forces and their relations; collects and inventories facts. its mission is not to establish a universal metaphysic of things ; that is philosophy's prerogative. all occult think ers declare that life is from within, out. in other words life, or a spiritual principle, precedes organization. science proceeds to investigate the phenomena of the universe in the opposite way from without, in; and pro nounces life to be "a fortuitous collocation of atoms." still, science has been the torch-bearer of the ages and has stripped the fungi of superstition from the tree of life. it has revealed to us the great laws of nature, though it has not explained them. we know that light, heat, and electricity are modes of motion; more than that we know not. science is largely responsible for the materialistic philosophy in vogue to-day a philosophy that sees no reason in the universe. a powerful wave of spiritual thought has set in, as if to counteract the ultra introductory argument. 17 rationalism of the age. in the vanguard of the new order of things are spiritualism and theosophy. spiritualism enters the list, and declares that the im mortality of the soul is a demonstrable fact. it throws down the gauntlet of defiance to skepticism, saying: "come, i will show you that there is an existence be yond the grave. death is not a wall, but a door through which we pass into eternal life." theosophy, too, has its occult phenomena to prove the indestructibility of soul-force. both spiritualism and theosophy contain germs of truth, but both are tinctured with superstition. i purpose, if possible, to sift the wheat from the chaff. in investigating the phenomena of spiritualism and theosophy i will use the scientific as well as the phil osophic method. each will act, i hope, as corrective of the other. part first. spiritualism. i. divisions of the subject. belief in the evocation of the spirits of the dead is as old as humanity. at one period of the world's history it was called thaumaturgy, at another necromancy and witchcraft, in these latter years, spiritualism. it is new wine in old bottles. on march 31, 1847, at hyde ville, wayne county, new york, occurred the cele brated "knockings," the beginning of modern spiritual ism. the mediums were two little girls, kate and margaretta fox, whose fame spread over three conti nents. it is claimed by impartial investigators that the rappings produced in the presence of the fox sisters were occasioned by natural means. voluntary disjoint ings of the muscles of the knee, or to use a medical term "the repeated displacement of the tendon of the peroneus longus muscle in the sheath in which it slides behind the outer malleolus" will produce certain extraordinary sounds, particularly when the knee is brought in con tact with a table or chair. snapping the toesin rapid succession will cause similar noises. the above was the 18 divisions of the subject. ig explanation given of the "hydeville and rochester knockings", by professors flint, lee and coventry, of buffalo, who subjected the fox sisters to numerous ex aminations, and this explanation was confirmed many years after (in 1888) by the published confession of mrs. kane, nee margaretta fox. spiritualism became the rage and professional mediums went about giving seances to large and interested audiences. this par ticular creed is still professed by a recognized semi-re ligious body in america and in europe. the american mediums reaped a rich harvest in the old world. the pioneer was mrs. hayden, a boston medium, who went to england in 1852, and the table-turning mania spread like wild fire within a few months. broadly speaking, the phenomena of modern spiritual ism may be divided into two classes: (1) physical, (2) subjective. of the first, the "encyclopaedia britan nica", in its brief but able review of the subject, says: "those which, if correctly observed and due neither to conscious or unconscious trickery nor to hallucination on the part of the observers, exhibit a force hitherto un known to science, acting in the physical world other wise than through the brain or muscles of the medium/* the earliest of these phenomena were the mysterious 20 spiritualism. rappings and movements of furniture without apparent physical cause. following these came the ringing of bells, playing on musical instruments, strange lights seen hovering about the seance-room, materializations of hands, faces and forms, "direct writing and drawing" declared to be done without human intervention, spirit photography, levitation, unfastening of ropes and band ages, elongation of the medium's body, handling fire with impunity, etc. of the second class, or subjective phenomena/we have "table-tilting and turning with contact; writing, draw ing, etc., by means of the medium's hand; enhancement, trance-speaking, and impersonation by the medium of deceased persons, seeing spirits and visions and hearing phantom voices." from a general scientific point of view there are three ways of accounting for the physical phenomena of spirit ualism : (1) hallucination on the part of the observers ; (2) conjuring; (3) a force latent in the human person ality capable of moving heavy objects without muscular contact, and of causing "percussive sounds" on table tops, and raps upon walls and floors. hallucination has unquestionably played a part in the stance-room, but here again the statement of the "en divisions of the subject. 21 cyclopaedia britannica" is worthy of consideration: "sensory hallucination of several persons together who are not in a hypnotic state is a rare phenomenon, and therefore not a probable explanation." in my opinion, conjuring will accoun+ for seven-eighths oi the so called phenomena of professional mediums. for the balance of one-eighth, neither hallucination nor legerde main are satisfactory explanation. hundreds of credible witnesses have borne testimony to the fact of table turning and tilting and the movements of heavy objects without muscular contact. that such a force exists is now beyond cavil, call it what you will, magnetic, ner vous, or psychic. count agenor de gasparin, in 1854, conducted a series of elaborate experiments in table turning and tilting, in the presence of his family and a number of skeptical witnesses, and was highly success ful. the experiments were made in the full light of day. the members of the cytele joined hands and concen trated their minds upon the object to be moved. the count published a work on the subject "des tables tour nantes," in which he stated that the movements of the table were due to a mental or nervous force emanating from the human personality. this psychic energy has been investigated by professor crookes and professor 22 spiritualism. lodge, of london, and by doctor elliott coues, of washington, d. c, who calls it "telekinesis." the ex istence of this force sufficiently explains such phenomena of the seance-room as are not attributable to hallucina tion and conjuring, thus removing the necessity for the hypothesis of spirit intervention. in explanation of table turning by "contact," i quote what j. n. maskelyne says in "the supernatural": "faraday proved to a demonstration that table-turning was simply the result of an unconscious muscular action on the part of the sitters. he constructed a little appara tus to be placed beneath the hands of those pressing upon the table, which had a pointer to indicate any pressure to one side or the other. after a time, of course, the arms of the sitters become tired and they uncon sciously press more or less to the right or left. in fara day's experiments, it always proved that this pressure was exerted in the direction in which the table was ex pected to move, and the tell-tale, pointer showed it at once. there, then, we have the explanation : expectancy and unconscious muscular action." ii. subjective phenomena. 1. telepathy. the subjective phenomena of spiritualism trance speaking, automatic writing, etc., have engaged the at tention of some of the best scientific minds of europe and america, as studies of abnormal or supernormal psy chological conditions. if there are any facts to sustain the spiritual hypothe sis, these facts exist in subjective manifestations. the following statement will be conceded by any ^impartial investigator: a medium, or psychic, in a state of partial or complete hypnosis frequently gives information tran scending his conscious knowledge of a subject. there can be but two hypotheses for the phenomena (1) the intelligence exhibited by the medium is "ultra-mun dane," in other words, is the effect of spirit control, or, (2) it is the result of the conscious or unconscious ex ercise of psychic powers on the part of the medium. it is well known that persons under hypnotic influence .> exhibit remarkable intelligence, notwithstanding the fact that the ordinary consciousness is held in abeyance. the 24 subjective phenomena. extraordinary results obtained by hypnotizers point to another phase of consciousness, which is none other than the subjective or "subliminal" self. mediums sometimes induce hypnosis by self-suggestion, and while in that state, the subconscious mind is in a highly receptive and exalted condition. mental suggestions or concepts pass from the mind of the sitter consciously or unconsciously to the mind of the medium, and are given back in the form of communications from the invisible world, os tensibly through spirit control. it is not absolutely nec essary that the medium be in the hypnotic condition to obtain information, but the hypnotic state seems to be productive of the best results. the medium is usually honest in his belief in the reality of such ultra-mundane control, but he is ignorant of the true psychology of the case thought transference. the english society for psychical research and its american branch have of late years popularized "tele pathy", or thought transference. a series of elaborate investigations were made by messrs. edmund gurney, f. w. h. myers, and frank podmore, accounts of which are contained in the proceedings of the society. among the european investigators may be mentioned messrs. janet and gibert, richet, gibotteau, arid telepathy. 25 schrenck-notzing. podmore has lately summarized the results of these studies in an interesting volume, "ap paritions and thought-transference, an examination of the evidence for telepathy." thought transference or telepathy (from tele at a distance, and pathos feeling) he describes as "a communication between mind and mind other than through the known channels of the senses." a mass of evidence is adduced to prove the pos sibility of this communication. in summing up his book he says: "the experimental evidence has shown that a simple sensation or idea may be transferred from one mind to another, and that this transference may take place alike in the normal state and in the hypnotic trance. * * the personal influence of the operator in hypnotism may perhaps be regarded as a proof presump tive of telepathy." the experiments show that mental concepts or ideas may be transferred to a distance. podmore advances the following theory in explana tion of the phenomena of telepathy : "if we leave fluids and radiant nerve-energy on one side, we find practically only one mode suggested for the telepathic transference viz., that the physical changes which are the accompaniments of thought or sensation in the agent are transmitted from the brain as 2 6 subjective phenomena. undulations in the intervening medium, and thus excite corresponding changes in some other brain, without any other portion of the organism being necessarily impli cated in the transmission. this hypothesis has found its most philosophical champion in dr. ochorowicz, who has devoted several chapters of his book "de la sugges tion mentale," to the discussion of the various theories on the subject. he begins by recalling the reciprocal con vertibility of all physical forces with which we are ac quainted, and especially draws attention to what he calls the law of reversibility, a law which he illustrates by a description of the photophone. the photophone is an instrument in which a mirror is made to vibrate to the human voice. the mirror reflects a ray of light, which, vibrating in its turn, falls upon a plate of selenium, modi fying its electric conductivity. the intermittent current so produced is transmitted through a telephone, and the original articulate sound is reproduced. now in hypno tized subjects and m. ochorowicz does not in this con nection treat of thought-transference between persons in the normal state the equilibrium of the nervous system, he sees reason to believe, is profoundly affected. the nerve-energy liberated in this state, he points out, 'cannot pass beyond' the subject's brain ' without being trans telepathy. 27 formed. nevertheless, like any other force, it cannot remain isolated; like any other force it escapes, but in disguise. orthodox science allows it only one way out, the motor nerves. these are the holes in the dark lantern through which the rays of light escape. * * * thought remains in the brain, just as the chemical energy of the galvanic battery remains in the cells, but each is represented outside by its correlative energy, which in the case of the battery is called the electric cur rent, but for which in the other we have as yet no name. in any case there is some correlative energy for the currents of the motor nerves do not and cannot constitute the only dynamic 'equivalent of cerebral energy to rep resent all the complex movements of the cerebral mech anism/ )! the above hypothesis -nay, or may not, afford a clue to the mysterious phenomena of telepathy, but it will doubtless satisfy to some extent those thinkers who de mand physical explanations of the known and unknown laws of the universe. the president of the society for psychical research (1894,) a. j. balfour, in an address on the relation of the work of the society to the general course of modem scientific investigation, is more cautious than the writers already quoted. he says: 28 subjective phenomena. "is this telepathic action an ordinary case of action from a center of disturbance? is it equally diffused in all directions? is it like the light of a candle or the light of the sun which radiates equally into space in every di rection at the same time? if it is, it must obey the law at least, we should expect it to obey the law of all other forces which so act through a non-absorbing medium, and its effects must diminish inversely as the square of the distance. it must, so to speak, get beaten out thinner and thinner the further it gets removed from its original source. but is this so? is it even credible that the mere thoughts, or, if you please, the neural changes corre sponding to these thoughts, of any individual could have in them the energy to produce sensible effects equally in all directions, for distances which do not, as far as our investigations go, appear to have any necessary limit? it is, i think, incredible; and in any case there is no evi dence whatever that this equal diffusion actually takes place. the will power, whenever will is used, or the thoughts, in cases where will is not used, have an effect, as a rule, only upon one or two individuals at most. there is no appearance of general diffusion. there is no indication of any disturbance equal at equal distances from its origin and radiating from it alike in every direction. telepathy. 29 "but if we are to reject this idea, which is the first which ordinary analogies would suggest, what are we to put in its place? are we to suppose that there is some means by which telepathic energy can be directed through space from the agent to the patient, from the man who influences to the man who is influenced? if we are to believe this, as apparently we must, we are face to face not only with a fact extarordinary in itself, but with a kind of fact which does not fit in with anything we know at present in the region either of physics or of physiology. it is true, ne deubt, that we do know plenty of cases where energy is directed along a given line, like water in a pipe, or like electrical energy along the course of a wire. but then in such cases there is always some material guide existing between the two termini, between the place from which the energy comes and the place to which the energy goes. is there any such material guide in the case of telepathy? it seems absolutely im possible. there is no sign of it. we can not even form to ourselves any notion of its character, and yet, if we are to take what appears to be the obvious lesson of the observed facts, we are forced to the conclusion that in some shape or other it exists." telepathy once conceded, we have a satisfactory ex 30 subjective phenomena. planation of that class of cases in modern spiritualism on the subjective side of the question. there is no need of the hypothesis of "disembodied spirits". some years ago, i instituted a series of experiments with a number of celebrated spirit mediums in the line of thought transference, and was eminently successful in obtaining satisfactory results, especially with miss maggie gaule, of baltimore, one of the most famous of the latter day psychics. case a. about three years prior to my sitting 1 with miss gaule, a relative by marriage died of cancer of the throat at the garfield hospital, washington, d. c. he was a retired army officer, with the brevet of general, and lived part of the time at chambersburg, penn., and the rest of the time at the national capital. he led a very quiet and unassuming life, and outside of army circles knew but few people. he was a magnificent specimen of physi cal manhood, six feet tall, with splendid chest and arms. his hair and beard were of a reddish color. his usual street dress was a sort of compromise with an army un dress uniform, military cut frock-coat, frogged and braided top-coat, and a sherman hat. without these ac cessories, anyone would have recognized the military telepathy. 31 man in his walk and bearing. he and his wife thought a great deal of my mother, and frequently stopped me on the street to inquire, "how is mary?" i went to miss gaule's house with the thought of general m fixed in my mind and the circumstances surrounding his decease. the medium greeted me in a cordial manner. i sat at one end of the room in the shadow, and she near the window in a large armchair. "you wish for messages from the dead," she remarked abruptly. "one moment, let me think." she sank back in the chair, closed her eyes, and remained in deep thought for a minute or so, occasionally passing her hand across her forehead. "i see," she said, "standing behind you, a tall, large man with reddish hair and beard. he is garbed in the uni form of an officer i do not know whether of the army or navy. he points to his throat. says he died of a throat trouble. he looks at you and calls "mary, how is mary?" "what is his name?" i inquired, fixing my mind on the words david m . "i will ask", replied the medium. there was a long pause. "he speaks so faintly i can scarcely hear him. the first letter begins with d, and then comes a i can't get it. i can't hear it." with that she opened her eyes. the surprising feature about the above case was the 32 subjective phenomena. alleged spirit communication, ''mary how is mary?" i did not have this in my mind at the time ; in fact i had completely forgotten this form of salutation on the part of gen. m , when we had met in the old days. it is just this sort of thing that makes spirit-converts. however, the cases of unconscious telepathy cited in the "reports of the society for psychical research," are sufficient, i think, to prove the existence of this phase erf the phenomena. t. j. hudson, in his work entitled "a scientific dem onstration of the future life", says: * * "when a psychic transmits a message to his client containing in formation which is in his (the psychic's) possession, it can not reasonably be attributed to the agency of dis embodied spirits. * * when the message con tains facts known to some one in his immediate presence and with whom he is en rapport, the agency of spirits of the dead cannot be presumed. every investigator will doubtless admit that sub-conscious memory may enter as a factor in the case, and that the sub-conscious intelli gence or, to use the favorite terminology employed by mr. myers to designate the subjective mind, the 'sublimal consciousness' of the psychic or that of his telepathy. 33 client may retain and use facts which the conscious, or objective mind may have entirely forgotten." but suppose the medium relates facts that were never in the possession of the sitter, what are we to say then? considerable controversy has been waged over this ques tion, and the hypothesis of telepathy is scouted. minot j. savage has come to the conclusion that such cases stretch the telepathic theory too far; there can be but one plausible explanation a communication from a disem bodied spirit, operating through the mind of the medium. for the sake of lucidity, let us take an example : a has a relative b who dies in a foreign land under peculiar circumstances, unknown to a. a attendr a s ance of a psychic, c, and the latter relates the circumstances of b's death. a afterwards investigates the statements of the medium, and finds them correct. can telepathy account for c's knowledge? i think it can. the telepathic com munication was recorded in a's sub-conscious mind, he being en rapport with b. a unconsciously yields the points recorded in his sub-conscious mind to the psychic, c, who by reason of his peculiar powers raises them to the level of conscious thought, and gives them back in the form of a message from the dead. 34 subjective phenomena. case b. on another occasion, i went with my friend mr. s. c, of virginia, to visit miss gaule. mr. s. c. had a young son who had recently passed the examination for admission to the u. s. naval academy, and the boy had accompanied his father to baltimore to interview the military tailors on the subject of uniforms, etc. miss gaule in her semi-trance state made the following state ment: "i see a young man busy with books and papers. he has successfully passed an examination, and says something about a uniform. perhaps he is going to a military college." here again we have excellent evidence of the proof of telepathy. the spelling of names is one of the surprising things in these experiments. on one occasion my wife had a sitting with miss gaule, and the psychic correctly spelled out the names of mrs. evans' brothers john, robert, and dudley, the latter a family name and rather unusual, and described the family as living in the west. the following example of telepathy occurred between the writer and a younger brother. case c. in the fall of 1890, i was travelling from washington to baltimore, by the b. & p. r. r. as the train ap telepathy. 35 preached jackson grove, a campmeeting ground, de serted at that time of the year, the engine whistle blew vigorously and the bell was rung continuously, which was something unusual, as the cars ordinarily did not stop at this isolated station, but whirled past. then the engine slowed down and the train came to a standstill. "what is the matter?" exclaimed the passengers. "my god, look there!" shouted an excited passenger, leaning out of the coach window, and pointing to the dilapidated platform of the station. i looked out and beheld a decapitated human head, standing almost up right in a pool of blood. with the other male passen gers i rushed out of the car. the head was that of an old man with very white hair and beard. we found the body down an embankment at some little distance from the place of the accident. the deceased was rec ognized as the owner of the grove, a farmer living in the vicinity. according to the statement of the engineer, the old man was walking on the track; the warning signals were given, but proved of no avail. being some what deaf, he did not realize his danger. he attempted to step off the track, but the brass railing that runs along the side of the locomotive decapitated him like the knife of a guillotine. 36 subjective phenomena. when i reached baltimore about 7 o'clock, p. m., i hurried down to the office of the "baltimore news" and wrote out an account of the tragic affair. my work at the office kept me until a late hour of the night, and i went home to bed at about 1 o'clock, a. m. my brother, who slept in an adjoining room, had retired to bed and the door between our apartments was closed. the next morning, sunday, i rose at 9 o'clock, and went down to breakfast. the family had assembled, and i was just in time to hear my brother relate the following: "i had a most peculiar dream last night. i thought i was on my way to mt. washington (he was in the habit of making frequent visits to this suburb of balti more on the northern central r. r.) we ran down an old man and decapitated him. i was looking out of the window and saw the head standing in a pool of blood. thehair and beard were snow white. we found the body not far off, and it proved to be a farmer re siding in the neighborhood of mt. washington." "you will find the counterpart of that dream in the morning paper", i remarked seriously. "i reported the accident." my father called for the paper, and pro ceeded to hunt its columns for the item, saying, "you undoubtedly transferred the impression to your brother." telepathy. 37 case d. this is another striking evidence of telepathic com munication, in which i was one of the agents. l was a reporter on a baltimore paper, and his apartments were the rendezvous of a coterie of bohemian aotors, journal ists, and litterati, among whom was x , a student at the johns-hopkins university, and a poet of rare ex cellence. poets have a proverbial reputation for being eccentric in personal appearance; in x this eccentricity took the form of an undipped beard that stood out in all directions, giving him a savage, anarchistic look. he vowed never under any circumstances to shave or cut this hirsute appendage. l came to me one day, and laughingly remarked: "i am being tortured by a mental obsession. x's beard annoys me; haunts my waking and sleeping hours. i must do something about it. listen! he is coming down to my rooms, saturday evening, to do some liter ary work, and spend the night with me. we shall have supper together, and i want you to be present. now i propose that we drug his coffee with some harmless soporific, and when he is sound asleep, tie him, and shave off his beard. will you help me? i can provide you with a lounge to sleep on, but you must promise not to go to sleep until after the tragedy." 3 8 subjective phenomena. i agreed to assist him in his practical joke, and we parted, solemnly vowing that our project should be kept secret. this was on tuesday, and no communication was had with x, until saturday morning, when l and i met him on charles street. "don't forget to-night," exclaimed l "i have in vited e to join us in our epicurean feast." "i will be there," said x. "by the way, let me relate a curious dream i had last night. i dreamt i came down to your rooms, and had supper. e was present. you fellows gave me something to drink which contained a drug, and i fell asleep on the bed. after that you tied my hands, and shaved off my beard. when i awoke i was terribly mad. i burst the cords that fastened my wrists together, and springing to my feet, cut l se verely with the razor." "that settles the matter", said l , "his beard is safe from me". when we told x of our conspiracy to re lieve him of his poetic hirsute appendage, he evinced the greatest astonishment. as will be seen, every particular of the practical joke had been transferred to his mind, the drugging of the coffee, the tying, and the shaving. telepathy is a logical explanation of many of the telepathy. 39 ghostly visitations of which the society for psychical re search has collected such a mass of data. for example: a dies, let us say in india and b,a near relative or friend, residing in england, sees a vision of a in a dream or in the waking state. a clasps his hands, and seems to utter the words, "i am dying". when the news comes of a's death, the time of the occurrence coincides with the see ing of the vision. the spiritualist's theory is that the ghost of a was an actual entity. one of the difficulties in the way of such an hypothesis is the clothing of the deceased can that, too, be disembodied ? thought trans ference (conscious or unconscious), i think, is the only rational explanation of such phantasms. the vision seen by the percipient is not an objective but a subjective thing a hallucination produced by the unknown force called telepathy. the vision need not coincide exactly with the date of the death of the transmitter but may make its appearance years afterwards, remaining latent in the subjective mind of the percipient. it may, as is frequently the case, be revealed by a medium in a seance. many thoughtful writers combat the .telepathic explana tion of phantasms of the dead, claiming that when such are seen long after the death of persons, they t afford indubitable evidence of the reality of spirit visita 40 subjective phenomena. tion. the reader is referred to the proceedings of the society for psychical research for a detailed discussion of the pros and cons of this most interesting subject. many of the so-called materializations of the seance room may be accounted for by hallucinations superin duced by telepathic suggestions from the mind of the medium or sitters. but, in my opinion, the greater num ber of these manifestations of spirit power are the result of trickery pure and simple theatrical beards and wigs, muslin and gossamer robes, etc., being the paraphernalia used to impersonate the shades of the departed, the imaginations of the sitters doing the rest. 2. table-tilting muscle beading. in regard to table-tilting with contact, i have given faraday's conclusions on the subject, unconscious muscular action on the part of the sitter or sitters. in the case of automatic writing (particularly with the planchette), unconscious muscular action is the proper explanation for the movements of the apparatus. "pro fessor augusto tamburini, of italy, author of 'spiritismo e telepatia', a cautious investigator of psychical prob lems," says a reviewer in the proceedings of the society for psychical research (volume ix, p. 220), "accepts the verdict of all competent observers that imposture is table-tilting. 41 inadmissible as a general explanation, and endorses the view that the muscular action which causes the move ments of the table or the pencil is produced by the sublim inal consciousness. he. explains the definite and vary ing characters of the supposed authors of the messages as the result of self-suggestion. as by hypnotic or post hypnotic suggestion a subject may be made to think he is napoleon or a chimney sweep, so, by self-suggestion, the subliminal consciousness may be made to think that he is x and y, and to tilt or wrap messages in the character of x and y." professor tamburini's explanation fails to account for the innumerable well authenticated cases where facts are obtained not within the conscious knowledge of the planchette writer or table-tilter. if telepathy does not enter into these cases, what does? there are many exhibitions, of thought transference by public psychics, that are thought transference in name only. one must be on one's guard against these pre tenders to occult powers. i refer to men like our late compatriot, washington irving bishop "muscle reader" par excellence whose fame extended throughout the civilized world. muscle-reading is performed in the following man 42 subjective phenomena. ner: let us take, for example, the reading of the figures on a bank-note. the subject gazes intently at the fig ures on a note, and fixes them in his mind. the muscle reader, blindfolded or not, takes a crayon in his right hand, and lightly clasps the hand or wrist of the subject with his left. he then writes on a blackboard the correct figures on the note. this is one of the most difficult feats in the repertoire of the muscle-reader, and was excelled in by bishop and stuart cumberland. charles gatchell, an authority on the subject, says that the above named men were the only muscle-readers who have ever ac complished the feat. geometrical designs can also be reproduced on a blackboard. the finding of objects hidden in an adjoining room, or upon the person of a spectator in a public hall, or at a distance, are also ac complished by skillful muscle readers, either by clasping the hand of the subject, or one end of a short wire held by him. says gatchell, in the "forum" for april, 1891 : "success in muscle-reading depends upon the powers of the principal and upon the susceptibility of the subject. the latter must be capable of mental concentration; he must exert no muscular self-control; he must obey his every impulse. under these conditions, the phenomena are in accordance with known laws of physiology. on muscle-reading. 43 the part of the principal, muscle-reading consists of an acute perception of the slight action of another's muscles. on the part of the subject, it involves a nervous im pulse, accompanied by muscular action. the mind of the subject is in a state of tension or expectancy. a sudden release from this state excites, momentarily, an increased activity in the cells of the cerebral cortex. since the ideational centres, as is usually held, correspond to the motor centres, the nervous action causes a motor impulse to be transmitted to the muscles^ * * in making his way to the location of a hidden object, the subject usually does not lead the muscle-reader, but the muscle-reader leads the subject. that is to say, so long as the muscle-reader moves in the right direction, the subject gives no indication, but passively moves with him. the muscle-reader perceives nothing unusual. but, the subject's mind being intently fixed on a certain course, the instant that the muscle-reader deviates from that course there is a slight, involuntary tremor, or mus cular thrill, on the part of the subject, due to the sudden interruption of his previous state of mental tension. the muscle-reader, almost unconsciously, takes note of the delicate signal, and alters his course to the proper one, again leading his willing subject. in a word, he follows 44 subjective phenomena. the line of the least resistance. in other cases the condi tions are reversed; the subject unwittingly leads the prin cipal. "the discovery of a bank-note number requires a slightly different explanation. the conditions are these: the subject is intently thinking of a certain figure. his mind is in a state of expectant attention. he is waiting for but one thing in the world to happen for another to give audible expression to the name of that which he has in mind. the instant that the conditions are ful filled, the mind of the subject is released from its state of tension, and the accompanying nervous action causes a slight muscular tremor, which is perceived by the acute senses of the muscle-reader. this explanation applies, also, to the pointing out of one pin among many, or of a letter or a figure on a chart. the conditions involved in the tracing of a figure on a blackboard or other sur face are of a like order, although this is a severer test of a muscle-reader's powers. so long as the muscle reader moves the crayon in the right direction, he is permitted to do so; but when he deviates from the proper course, the subject, whose hand or wrist he clasps, in voluntarily indicates the fact by the usual slight mus cular tremor. this, of course, is done involuntarily ; but muscle-reading. 45 ifheisfulfilling the conditions demanded of all subjects, absolute concentration of attention and absence of mus cular control he unconsciously obeys his impulse. a billiard player does the same when he follows the driven ball with his cue, as if by sheer force of will he could induce it to alter its course. the ivory is uninfluenced; the human ball obeys." iii. physical phenomena. 1. psychography, or slatewriting. one of the most interesting phases of modern med iumship, on the physical side, is psychography, or slate writing. after an investigation extending over ten years, i am of the opinion that the majority of slatewriting feats are the results of conjuring. the process generally used is the following. the medium takes two slates, binds them together, after first having deposited a small bit of chalk or slate pencil between their surfaces, and either holds them in his hands, or lays them on the table. soon the scratch ing of the pencil is heard, and when the cords are re moved a spirit message is found upon the surface of one of the slates. i will endeavor to explain the "modus operandi" of these startling experiments. some years ago, the most famous of the slate-writing mediums was dr. henry slade, of new york, with whom i had several sittings. i was unable to penetrate the mystery of his performance, until the summer of slate-writing. 47 fig. 2. dr. henry slade. 1889, when light was thrown upon the subject by the conjurer c whom i met in baltimore. "do you know the medium slade?" i asked him. "yes, "said he, "and he is a conjurer like myself. i've had sittings with him. come to my rooms to-night, and i will explain the secret workings of the medium's slate 48 physical phenomena. writing. but first i will treat you to a regular seance." on my way to c's home i tried to put myself in the frame of mind of a genuine seeker after transcendental knowledge. i recalled all the stories of mysterious rap pings and ghostly visitations i had read or heard of. it was just the night for such eerie musings. black clouds were scurrying across the face of the moon like so many mediaeval witches mounted on the proverbial broom sticks en route for a mad sabbat in some lonely church yard. the prestidigitateur's pension was a great, lum bering, gloomy old house, in an old quarter of balti more. the windows were tightly closed and only the feeble glimmer of gaslight was emitted through the cracks of the shutters. i rang the bell and mr. c's stage-assistant, a pale-faced young man, came to the door, relieved me of my light overcoat and hat, and ushered me upstairs into the conjurer's sitting-room. a large, baize-covered table stood in the centre of +he apartment, and a cabinet with a black curtain drawn across it occupied a position in a deep alcove. sus pended from the roof of the cabinet was a large gurtdr. i took a chair and waited patiently for the appearance of the anti-spiritualist, after having first examined every thing in the room table, cabinet, and musical instru slatewriting. 49 ments but i discovered no evidence of trickery any where. i waited and waited, but no c . "can he have forgotten me?" i said to myself. suddenly a loud rap resounded on the table top, followed by a succession of raps from the cabinet; and the guitar began to play. i was quite startled. when the music ceased the door opened, and c entered. "the spirits are in force to-night," he remarked with a meaning smile, as he slightly diminished the light in the apartment. "yes," i replied. "how did you do it?" "all in good time, my dear ghost-seer," was the an swer. "let us try first a few of dr. slade's best slate so saying he handed me a slate and directed me to wash it carefully on both sides with a damp cloth. i did so and passed it back to him. scattering some tiny fragments of pencil upon it, he held the slate pressed against the under surface of the table leaf, the fingers of his right hand holding the slate, his thumb grasping the leaf. c then requested me to hold the other end of the slate in a similar fashion, and took my right hand in his left. heavy raps were heard on the table-top, and 1 felt the fingers of a spirit hand plucking at my gar 5 o physical phenomena. merits from beneath the table. c 's body seemed pos sessed with some strange convulsion, his hands quivered, and his eyes had a glassy look. listening attentively, i heard the sound of a pencil writing on the slate. "take care!" gasped the conjurer, breathlessly. the slate was jerked violently out of our hands by some powerful agency, but the medium regained it, and again pressed it against the table as before. in a little while he brought the slate up and there upon its upper surface was a spirit message, addressed to me "are you convinced now? d. d. home." at this juncture there came a knock at the door, and c , with the slate in his hand, went to see who it was. it proved to be the pale-faced assistant. a few words in a low-tone of voice were exchanged between them, and the conjurer returned to the table, excusing the interrup tion by remarking, "some one to see me, that is all, but don't hurry, for i have another test to show you." after thoroughly washing both sides of the slate he placed it, with a slate pencil, under a chafing-dish cover in the center of the -table. we joined hands and awaited de velopments. being tolerably well acquainted with conjuring de vices, i manifested but little surprise in the first test slate-writing. 5i fig. 3. the holding op the slate. 52 physical phenomena. when the spirit message was written, because the magi cian had his fingers on the slate. but in this test the slate was not in his possession; how then could the writ ing be accomplished? "hush!" said c , "is there a spirit present?" a re sponsive rap resounded on the table, and after a few minutes' silence, the mysterious scratching of the slate pencil began. i was nonplussed. "turn over the slate," said the juggler. i complied with his request and found a long message to me, covering the entire side of the slate. it was signed "cagliostro." "what do you think of dr. slade's slate tests?" in quired c . "splendid!" i replied, "but how are they done?" his explanations made the seeming marvel perfectly plain. while the slate is being examined in the first test, the medium slips on a thimble with a piece of slate pencil attached or else has a tiny bit of pencil under his finger nail. in the act of holding the slate under the table, he writes the short message backwards on its under side. it becomes necessary, however, to turn the slate over before exhibiting it to the sitter, so that the writing may appear to have been written on its upper surface slate-writing. 53 the side that has been pressed to the table. to accom plish this the medium pretends to go into a sort of neu rotic convulsion, during which state the slate is jerked away from the sitter, presumably by spirit power, and is turned over in the required position. it is not imme diately brought up for examination but is held for a few seconds underneath the table top, and then produced with a certain amount of deliberation. the special difficulty of this trick consists in the me dium's ability to write in reverse upon the under surface of fthe slate. if he wrote from left to right, in the ordi nary method, it would, of course, reverse the message when the slate is examined, and give a decided clue to the mystery. this inscribing in reverse, or mirror writ ing, as it is often called, is exceedingly difficult to do, but nothing is impossible to a slade. but how is the writing done on the slate in the second test? asks the curious reader. nothing easier! the servant who raps at the door brings with him, concealed under his coat, a second slate, upon which the long message is written. over the writing is a pad cut frcm a bookplate, exactly fitting the frame of the prepared slate. it is impossible to detect the fraud when the light in the room is a trifle obscure. the medium makes an 54 physical phenomena. exchange of slates, returns to the table, washes both sides of the trick slate, and carelessly exhibits it to the sitter, the writing being protected of course by the pad. be fore placing the slate under the chafing-dish cover, he lets the pad drop into his lap. now comes a crucial point in the imposture : the writing heard beneath the slate, supposed to be the work of a disembodied spirit. the medium under cover of his handkerchief removes from his pocket an instrument known as a "pencil-clamp." this clamp consists of a small block of wood with two sharp steel points protruding from the upper edge and a piece of slate pencil fixed in the lower. the medium presses the steel points into the under surface of the table with sufficient force to attach the block securely to the table, and then rubs a pencil, previously attached to his right knee by silk sutures, against the side of the pencil fastened to the apparatus. the noise produced thereby exactly simulates that of writing upon a slate. in my case the illusion wasperfect. during the exami nation of the message, the medium has ample oppor tunity to secrete the false pad and the clamp in his pocket. instead of having a servant bring the slate to him and making the exchange described above, he may have the trick slate concealed about him before the se slatewriting. 55 ance begins, with the message written on it, and adroitly make the substitution while the sitter is engaged in low ering the light. dr. slade almost invariably adopted the first-mentioned exchange, because it enabled his con federate to write a lucid message to the sitter. an examination of the sitter's overcoat in the hall fre quently yielded valuable information in the way of names and initials extracted from letters, sealed or unsealed. sealed letters? yes; it is an easy matter to steam a gummed envelope, open it, and seal it again. another method is to wet the sealed envelope with a sponge dipped in alcohol. the writing will show up tolerably well if written upon a card. in a very short time the envelope will dry and exhibit no evidence of having been tampered with. and now as to the rest of the phenomena witnessed that evening in c 's room. the raps on the table top were the result of an ingenious, hidden mechanism, worked by electricity ; the mysterious hand that operated under the table was the juggler's right foot. he wore slippers and had the toe part of one stocking cut away. by dropping the slipper from his foot he was enabled to pull the edge of my coat, lift and shove a chair away, and perform sundry other ghostly evolutions, thanks to 5 6 physical phenomena. a well trained big toe. dr. slack who was long and lithe of limb, worked this dodge to perfection, prior to the paralytic attack which partly disabled his lower limbs. the stringed instrument which played in the cabinet was arranged as follows: inside of the guitar was a small musical box, so arranged that the steel vibrating tongues of the box came in contact with a small piece of writing paper. when the box was set to going by means of an electric current, it closely imitated the twanging of a guitar, just as a sheet of music when laid on the strings of a piano simulates a banjo. this spirit guitar is a very useful instrument in the hands of a med ium. it may be made to play when it is attached to a telescopic rod, and waved in phosphorescent curves over the heads of a circle of believers in the dark seance. i shall now sum up the subject of dr. slade's spirit slate writing, (fig. 3) and endeavor to show how grossly exaggerated the reports of the medium's performances have been, and the reasons for such misstatements. no one who is not a professional or amateur prestidigitateur can correctly report what he sees at a spiritualistic seance. it is not so much the swiftness of the hand that counts in conjuring but the ability to force the attention of the slate-writing. 57 spectators in different directions away from the crucial point of the trick. the really important part of the test, then, is hidden from the audience, 'who imagine they have seen all when they have not. saysdr.maxdessoir: "it must therefore be regarded as a piece of rare naivete if a reporter asserts that in the description of his subjec tive conclusions he is giving the exact objective pro cesses." this will be seen in mr. davey's experiments. mr. davey, a member of the london society for psychical research, and an amateur magician who possessed great dexterity in the slate-writing business, gave a series of exhibitions before a number of persons, but did not in form them that the results were due to prestidigitation. no entrance fee was charged for the seances, but the sitters, who were fully impressed with the genuineness of the affair, were requested to submit written reports of what they had seen. these letters, published in vol. iv of the proceedings of the society, are admirable ex amples of mal-observation, for no one detected mr. davey exchanging slates and doing the writing. "the sources of error," says dr. max dessoir, in an article reproduced in the "open court," "through which such strange reports arise, may be arranged in four 58 physical phenomena. groups. first, the observer interpolates a fact which did not happen, but which he is led to believehas happened; thus, he imagines he has examined the slate when as a fact he never has. second, he confuses two similar ideas ; he thinks he has carefully examined the slate, when in reality he has only done so hastily, or in ignorance of the point at issue. third, the witness changes the order of events a little in consequence of a very natural deception of memory; he believes he tested the slate later than he actually did. fourth and last, he passes over certain de tails which were purposely described to him as insignifi cant; he does not notice that the 'medium* asks him to close a window, and that the trick is thus rendered pos sible." similar experiments in slate-writing were conducted by the seybert commission with mr. harry kellar, the conjurer, after sittings were had with dr. slade, and the magician outdid the medium. the seybert commission found none of slade's tests genuine, and officially denied "the extraordinary stories of his performances with locked slates which constitute a large part of his fame." dr. slade began his spiritualistic operations in lon don inthe year 1876, and charged a fee of a guinea a head for stances lasting a few minutes. crowds went to slate-writing. 59 see him and he reaped a golden harvest from the credu lous, until the grand fiasco came. slade was caught in one of his juggling seances and exposed by prof. lan caster and dr. donkin. the result was a criminal prose cution and a sensational trial lasting three days at the bow street police court. mr. maskelyne, the conjurer, was summoned as an expert witness and performed a number of the medium's tricks in the witness box. the court sentenced slade to three months' hard labor, but he took an appeal from the magistrate's decision. the appeal was sustained on the ground of a technical flaw in the indictment, and the medium fled to the continent before new summons could be served. he visited paris, leipsic, berlin, st. petersburg and other cities, giving seances before royalty and before distinguished mem bers of scientific societies ; and afterwards went to aus tralia. he made money fast and spent it fast, but it took all of his ingenuity to elude the clutches of the police. in 1892, we find .him the inmate of a workhouse in one of our western towns, penniless, friendless and a lunatic. slade's stances with prof. zoellner, of berlin, in 1878, attracted wide attention, and did more to advertise his fame as a medium than anything else in his career. 6o physical phenomena. zoellner's belief in the genuineness of slade's medi umistic marvels led him to write a curious work, entitled, "transcendental physics," being an inquiry into the "fourth dimension of space." poor old zoellner, he was half insane when these seances were held ! we have the undisputed authority of the seybert commission for the correctness of this statement. in hamburg, dr. borchert wrote to slade offering him one thousand marks if he would produce writing be tween locked slates, similar to the writing alleged to have been executed at the zoellner seances, but the medium took no notice of the professor's letter. the conjurer, carl wilmann, with two friends, had a sitting with slade, but without satisfactory results for the medium. "slade," says wilmann, "was unable to distract my a1> tention from the crucial point of the trick, and threw down the slates on the table in disgust, remarking: 'i can not obtain any results to-day, the power that controls me is exhausted. come tomorrow!' " that tomorrow never arrived for willmann and his friends; slade did not keep his appointment, nor could wilmann succeed in obtaining another sitting with him. the medium had been warned by friends that wilmann was an expert professor of legerdemain. slate-writing. 6l it was in 1886 that slade created such a furore in hamburg in spiritualistic circles. a talented conjurer of that city, named schradieck, after a few weeks' prac tice succeeded in eclipsing slade. he learned to write in reverse on slates, and produced writing in various colored chalks. another one of his experiments was making the slate disappear from one side of the table where it was held a la slade and appear at the opposite end of the table suddenly, as if held up to view by a spirit hand. wilmann describes the effect as startling in the extreme and says schradieck produced it by means of his left foot. after slade's departure from hamburg, spirit mediums sprang up like toadstools in a single night. wilmann in his crusade against these worthies tad many interesting experiences. he gives in his work "modernewunder" several exposes of mediumistic tricks, two of which, in the sealed slate line, are very ingenious. the medium takes a slate (one furnished by the sitter if preferred), wipes it on both sides with a wet sponge, and then wraps it up carefully in a piece of ordinary white wrapping paper, allowing the package to be sealed and corded ad libitum. notwithstanding all the pre cautions used, a message appears on the slate. it is ac complished in this way. a message in reverse is written $ 2 physical phenomena. on the wrapping paper with a camel's hair brush or pointed stick, dipped in some sticky substance, and finely powdered slate pencil dust is scattered over the writing. at a little distance, especially in a dim light, it is im possible to discover the writing as it blends very well with the white paper. in wrapping up the slate the med ium presses the writing on the paper against the sur face of the slate and the chirography adheres thereto, very much as the greasy drawing on a lithographer's stone prints on paper. in the other experiment the medium uses a papier mache slate, set in the usual wooden frame. a papier mache pad is prepared with a spirit message on one sur face; on the other is pasted a piece of newspaper. this pad is laid, written side down, on a sheet of newspaper. after the genuine slate has been washed, the medium proceeds to wrap it up in the newspaper, and presses the trick pad, writing up, into the frame of the slate where it exactly fits into a groove prepared for the purpose. since dr. slade's retirement from the mediumistic field, pierre l. o. a. keeler's fame as a slate-writing medium has been spread broadcast. he oscillates be tween boston, new york, cleveland, philadelphia, bal timore and washington, and has a very large and fash slatewriting. 63 ionable clientele. he gives evening materializing seances of the cabinet type three times a week at his rooms. during the day he gives private slate tests which are very popular. i had a sitting with him on the afternoon of april 24th, 1895. in order to gain his confidence, i went as one witnessing a slate seance for the finfc time, that is, i accepted his slates, and had no prepared questions. i was ushered into a small, back parlor by the medium who closed the folding doors. we were alone. i made a mental photograph of the surroundings. there was no furniture except a table and two chairs placed near the window. over the table was a faded cloth, hanging some eight or ten inches below the table. upon it were several pads of paper and a heterogeneous assortment of lead pencils. leaning against the mantelpiece, within a foot or so of the medium's chair, were some thirty or forty slates. "take a seat", said mr. keeler pointing to a chair. i sat down, whereupon he seated himself opposite me, remarking as he did so, "have you brought slates with you?" "i have not," was my reply. "then, if you have no objection," he said, "we will use 64 physical phenomena. two of mine. please examine these two slates, wash them clean with this damp cloth, and dry them." with that he passed me two ordinary school-slates, which i inspected closely, and carefully cleaned. "be kind enough to place the slates to one side," said keeler. i complied. "have you prepared any slips with the names of friends, relatives, or others, who have passed into spirit life, with questions for them to answer?" "i have not," i replied. "kindly do so then," he answered, "and take your time about it. there is a pad on the table. please write but a single question on each slip. then fold the slips and place them on the table." i did so. "i will also make one," he continued, "it is to my spirit control, george christy." he wrote a name on a slip of paper, folded it, and tossed it among those i had prepared, passing his hand over them and fingering them, saying, "it is necessary to get a psychic impres sion from them." we sat in silence several minutes. after a little while mr. keeler said : "i do not know whether or not we shall get any responses this after noon, but have patience." again we waited. "suppose you write a few more slips," he remarked, "perhaps we'll slate-writing. 67 have better luck. be sure and address them to people who were old enough to write before they passed into spirit life." this surprised me, but i complied with his wishes. while writing i glanced furtively at him from time to time ; his hands were in his lap, concealed by the table cloth. he looked at me occasionally, then ait his lap, fixedly. / am satisfied that he opened some of my slips, having adroitly abstracted them from the table in the act of fingering them. he directed me to take my handkerchief and tie the two slates on the table tightly together, holding the slates in his hands as i did so. i laid the slates on the table before me, and we waited. "i think we will succeed this time in getting responses to some of the questions. let us hold the slates." he grasped them with ringers and thumbs at one end, and i at the other in like manner, holding the slates about two inches above the table. we listened attentively, and soon was heard the scratching noise of a slate pencil moving upon a slate. the sound seemed directly under the slate, and was sufficiently impressive to startle any person making a slate test for the first time, and unacquainted with the multifarious devices of the sleight-of-hand artist. "hold the slates tightly, please!" said mr. keeler, as 68 physical phenomena. a convulsive tremor shook his hands. i grasped firmly my end of the slates, and waited further developments. the faint tap of a slate pencil upon a slate was heard, and the medium announced that the communications were finished. i untied the handkerchief, and turned up the inner surfaces of the slates. upon one of them sev eral messages were written, and signed. other com munications were received during the sitting. after the first messages were received, and while i was engaged in reading them, keeler quickly picked up a slate from the floor, clapped it upon the clean slate remaining on the table, and requested me to tie the two rapidly together with my handkerchief before the influence was lost. at a signal from him i unfastened the slates and found an other set of answers. the same proceeding was gone through for the third set. the imitation of a pencil writ ing upon a slate was either made by the apparatus, described in the seance with c in the first part of this chapter, or by some other contrivance; more than likely by simply scratching with his finger on the under surface of the slate. while my attention was absorbed in the act of writing my second set of questions, he prepared answers to two of my first set and substituted a prepared slate for the cleaned slate on slate-writing. 6 9 the table. / was sure he zvas writing under the table; i heard the faint rubbing of a soft bit of pencil upon the surface of a slate. his hands were in his lap and his eyes were fixed downwards. several times i saw him put his fingers into his vest pockets, and he appeared to bring up small particles of something, which i believe were bits of the white and colored crayons used in writ ing the messages. his quiet audacity was surprising. i give below the questions and answers with my com ments thereon : first slate. fig. 4. question. to mamie: tell me the name of your dead brother? (signed) harry r. evans. answer. you must nob think of me as one gone forever from you. you have made conditions by and through which i can return to you, and so long as i can do this i can not feel unhappy. so dear one, rest in the assurance that you are helping me, and that i am doing all i can to help you. let us make the best of it all and help each other as best we can, then all will be well. my home in spirit life is beautiful and awaiting you. i will be the 70 physical phenomena. first to greet you. / have no dead brother. all of us are living. i am mamie . (the medium here cleverly evades giving a name by an equivoque.) question. to len tell me the cause of your death, and the circum stances surrounding it? (signed) harry r. evans. answer. harry! i am very glad to see you. i am happy. you must be reconciled, and not mourn me as dead! i will try to come again soon, when i am stronger and tell of my decease. len. (he again evades an an swer.) second slate. fig. 5. question. to a. d. b when and where did you die? (signed) harry r. evans. answer. this all seems so strange coming back and writing just as one would if they were in the earth life and com municating with a friend. what a blessed privilege it is. i am so happy. oh, i would not come back. it is so slate-writing. 73 restful here. no pain or sorrow. dear, do not think i have forgotten you, i constantly think of you and wish that you, too, might view these lovely scenes of glorious beauty. you must rest with the thought that when your life is ended upon the earth, / will be the first to meet you. now be patient and hopeful until we meet where there is no more parting. i am sincerely, a. d. b. (no an swer at all. observe error in first sentence: "as one would if they were ." a. d. b. was an educated gen tleman, and not given to such ungrammatical expres sions. third slate. fig. 6. question. to b. g. can you recall any of the conversations we had together on the b. and p. r. r. cars? (signed) h. r. evans. answer. o my dear one, i can only write a few lines that you may know that i see and hear you as you call upon me. i do not forget yon. when i am stronger will come again. i do not know what conversation you refer to in the cars. b. g. (again evades answering. b. g. was very much in 74 physical phenomena. terested in the drama, and talked continuously about the stage.) question. to c. j. where did you die, and from what disease? (signed) h. r. evans. answer. i know the days and weeks seem long and lonely to you without me. i do not forget you ; am doing the best i can to help you. c. j. . (still another evasion of a straightforward question. the lady in spirit life to whom the question was ad dressed died of consumption in a roman catholic con vent. she was only a society acquaintance of the writer, and not on such terms of intimacy as to warrant mr. keeler's reply.) in one corner of slate no. 2 was the following, written with a yellow crayon: "this is remarkable. how did you know we could come? h. k. evans." scrawled across the face of slate no. 3, in red pencil, was a communication from george christy, mr. keeler's spirit control, reading as follows: "many are here who g. c. (george christy)" (the remainder is so badly written, as to be indecipherable.) slate-writing. 75 on carefully analyzing the various communications it will be observed that the handwriting of the messages from mamie and b g. are similar, possessing the same characteristics as regards letter formation, etc. it does not require a professional expert in chirography to detect this fact. one and the same person wrote the messages purporting to come from mamie r , len , b. g. , c. j. , and a. d. b. in fact, the writing on all the slates is, in my opinion , the work of mr. pierre keeler. the longer communications were doubtless prepared beforehand, being general in nature and conveying about the same information that any departed spirit might give to any inquiring mortal, but, as will be ob served, giving no adequate answers to the queries, with the exception of the last two sentences, which were written by the medium, after he became acquainted with the tenor of the questions upon the folded slips. the very short communications are written in a careless hand, such as a man would dash off hastily, there is an at tempt at disguise, but a clumsy one, the letters still re taining the characteristics of the more deliberate chiro graphy of the long communications. a close inspection 7 6 physical phenomena. of the slates reveals the exact similarity of the y's, u's, fs, g's, h's, m's and n's. the handwriting of messages on slates should be, and is claimed to be, adequate evidence of the genuineness of the communication, for are we nob supposed to know the handwriting of our friends? possibly mr. keeler would claim that the handwriting was the work of his control "geo. christy", who acted as a sort of amanuensis for the spirits. if this be so, why the attempts at disguise, and bungling attempts at that? in the seanoe with mr. keeler, i subjected him to no tests. he had everything his own way. / should have brought my own marked slates with me and never let them out of my sight for an instant, i should have subjected the table to a close examination, and requested the medium to move or rather myself removed the collection of slates against the mantel, placed so con veniently within his reach. i did not do this, because of his well known irascibility. he would probably have shown me the door and refused a sitting on any terms, as he has done to many skeptics. i was anxious to meet keeler, and preferred playing the novice rather than not get a slate test from one of the best-known and most famous of modern slate-writing mediums. slate-writing. 79 after what has been stated, i think there can be no shadow of doubt that the medium abstracted by sleight of-hand some of the paper slips containing my written questions, read them under cover of the table, and did the slate-writing himself. all of these slate-tests, where pellets or slips of paper are used, are performed in a sim ilar manner, as will be seen from the exposs published by the society for psychical research. in vol. viii of the proceedings of that association will be found a number of revelations, one of which throws consider able light on the keeler tests. the sitter was dr. richard hodgson, and the medium was a mrs. gillett. says dr. hodgson: "under pretence of 'magnetising' the pellets prepared by the sitter, or folding them more tightly, she substi tutes a pellet of her own for one of the sitter's. reading the sitter's pellet below the table, she writes the answer on one of her own slates, a pile of which, out of the sitter's view, she keeps on a chair by her side. she then takes a second slate, places it on the table, and sponges and dries both sides, after which she takes the first slate, and turning the side upon which she has written towards herself, rubs it in several places with a dry cloth or the ends of her fingers as though cleaning bo physical phenomena. it. she then places it, writing downward, on the other slate on the table, and sponges and dries the upper sur face of it. she then pretends to take one of the pellets on the table and put it between the two slates. what she does, however, is to bring the pellet up from below the table, take another of the sitter's pellets on the table into her hand, and place the pellet which she has brought up from below the table between the slates, keeping in her hand the pellet just taken from the top of the table. the final step is to place a rubber band round both slates, in doing which she turns both slates over together. she professes to get the writing without the use of any chalk or pencil. some of her slates are prepared beforehand with messages or draw ings. more interesting, perhaps, because of its bold ness, is her method of producing writing on the sitter's own slates. under the pretence of 'magnetising' these she cleans them several times, rubs them with her hands, stands them up on end together, and while they are in this position between herself and the sitter she writes with one hand on the slate-side nearest to herself, holding the slates erect with the other hand. later on, she lays both slates together flat on the table again, the writing being on the undermost surface. she then sponges the slate-writing. 8l upper surface of the top slate, turns it over, and sponges its other surface. she next withdraws the bottom slate, places it on top and sponges its top surface, keeping its under surface carefully concealed. the final step, the reversal, is made, as in the other case, with the help of the rubber band. mrs. gillett has probably other methods, also. those which i have described were all that i witnessed at my single sitting with her." my friend, dr. l. m. taylor, of washington, d.c., an investigator of spiritualistic phenomena, and skeptical like myself of the objective phases of the subject, has had many sittings with keeler for independent slate-writing. one seance in particular he is fond of relating: "on one occasion, after i had written my slips, folded them up> and tossed them on the table, i said to keeler who was obtaining his 'psychic' impression of them, 'i wish, if possible, to have a spirit tell me the numbers and the maker's name engraved in my watch. i have never taken the trouble to look at the numbers, consequently i do not know them.' 'your request is an unusual one/ replied the medium, 'but i will endeavor to gratify it.' we had some conversations on the subject that lasted several minutes. suddenly he picked up a slate pencil, and scrawled the name, 7. s. granger on the upper sur 82 physical phenomena. face of one of my slates; the two slates had been pre viously tied together with my handkerchief and laid on the table in front of me. 'you recognize that name, do you not?' asked keeler. 'yes/ i replied, 'that is one of the names i wrote on the slips. j. s. granger was an old friend of mine who died some years ago. he was a brother-in-law of stephen a. douglass.' 'if you wish to facilitate matters,' said keeler, 'place your watch on top of the slates, concealed beneath the handkerchief, otherwise we may have to wait an hour or more without obtaining results, and there are a number of persons waiting for me in the ante-room. my time you see is limited/ "i detached my watch from its chain, and placed it in the required position. keeler then took a piece of black cloth, used to clean slates, and laid it over my slates. finally he requested me to take the covered slates and hold them in my lap. i took care to feel through the cloth that the watch was still beneath the handker chief. in a short time i was directed to uncover the slates, and untie them, which i did. upon the inner surface of one of the slates the following message was written: 'dear friend, stephen is with me. i have been through that beautiful watch of yours, and, if i see slate-writing. 83 correcty, the number is 163131. on the inside i see this e. howard & co., boston, 211327. and then your name as follows: dr. l. m. taylor, 1221 mass. ave., n. w., washington, d. c. signed j. m. granger.' "i then compared the name and numbers in my watch with those on the slate, and found the latter correct, with the exception of one number. a relative of mine was present in the room during this seance, and i showed her the communication on the slate. afterwards we passed the slate to keeler who examined it closely. when he handed it back to me, i was surprised to see that the incorrect number was mysteriously changed to the proper one." this is a very interesting test, indeed, because of its apparently impromptu character. i have seen similar feats performed by professional conjurers as well as mediums. a dummy watch is substituted for the sitter's watch, and after the medium has ascertained the name and numbers on the sitter's timepiece, he succeeds in adroitly exchanging it again for the dummy, thanks to the black cloth. the writing on the slate in the above seance was evidently produced in the same way as that described in my sitting with keeler, after he had ascer tained the name on the slip. the name of stephen, of 8 4 physical phenomena. course, was directly obtained from dr. taylor. not having been an eye witness of keeler's movements in the watch test, i am unable to say how closely dr. taylor's description coincides with the medium's actual operations. in may, 1897, mr. pierre keeler was in washington, d.c.,as usual. my friend, dr. taylor, who was desirous of putting the medium to another crucial test,wrote down a list of names on a sheet of paper cognomens of an cient egyptian, chaldean, and grecian priests and phi losophers folded the paper, and carefully sealed it in an envelope. he took ten slates with him, all of them marked with a private mark of his own. mr. keeler eyed the envelope dubiously, but passed no criticisms on the doctor's precautions to prevent trickery. the two men sat down at a table and waited for the spirits to manifest. dr. taylor, on this occasion, was abso lutely certain that his slates had not been tampered with, and that the medium had not succeeded in open ing the envelope. in a little while the comedy of the pencil-scratching between the tied slates began. "ah", exclaimed the physician, "a message at last!" then he thought to himself, "can the medium possibly have deluded my senses by some hypnotic power, and slate-writing. 85 adroitly opened that envelope without my being aware of the fact? but no, that is impossible!" mr. keeler took the slates away from dr. taylor, and quickly opened them, accidentally dropping one of them behind the table. in a second, however, he brought up the slate, and remarked: "how awkward of me. i beg your pardon," etc. on the surface of this slate was written the following sentence: "see some other medi um; d n it! george christy." dr. taylor is positive, as he has repeatedly told me, that this message was not inscribed on his own marked slate, but was written by the medium on one of his own. the exchange, of course, must have been effected in the pretended accidental drop ping of the doctor's slate by the medium. this is a very old expedient among pretenders to spirit power. all conjurers are familiar with the device. imro fox, the american magician, uses it constantly in his entertain ments, with capital effect. dr. taylor, unfortunately, did not succeed in getting possession of the medium's prepared slate. another ex change was undoubtedlv made by mr. keeler, and the physician had returned to him his own marked slate. when he got home that afternoon, and had time to care fully scrutinize his slates, he found that they bore no 86 physical phenomena. evidence of having been written upon at all. having also examined these slates, i am prepared to add my testimony to that of dr. taylor. the reader will see from the above-described seance that unless the medium (or a confederate) is enabled to read the names and questions, prepared by the sitter, his hands are practically tied in all experiments in psychology. when investigators bring their own marked slates with them, screwed tightly together, and sealed, the me dium has to adopt different tactics from those employed in the tests before mentioned. he has to call in the aid of a confederate. the audacity of the sealed-slate test is without parallel in the annals of pretended medium ship. for an insight into the secrets of this phase of psychography, the reading public is indebted to a me dium, the anonymous author of a remarkably interesting work, "revelations of a spirit medium." many skeptical investigators have been converted to spiritualism by these tests. they invariably say to you when approached on the subject: "i took my own marked slates, care fully screwed together, to the medium, and had lengthy messages written upon them by spirit power. these slates never left my hands for a second." i will quote slate-writing. 87 what the writer of "revelations of a spirit medium" says on the subject: "no man ever received independent slate-writing be tween slates fastened together that he did not allow out of his hands a few seconds. scores of persons will tell you that they have received writing under those condi tions through the mediumship of the writer; but the writer will tell you how he fooled them and how you can do so if you see fit. "in the first place you will rent a house with a cellar in connection. cut a trap-door one foot square through the floor between the sills on which the floor is laid. procure a fur floor mat with long hair. cut a square out) of the mat and tack it <to the top of the trap door. tack the mat fast to the floor, for some one may visit you who will want to raise it up. "explain the presence of the fur by saying it is an ab sorbent of magnetic forces, through which you produce the writing. over the rug place a heavy pine table about four feet square; and over the table a heavy cover that reaches the floor on all sides. put your assistant in the cellar with a coal-oil stove, a tea-kettle of hot water, dif ferent colored letter wax and lead pencils, a screw driver, a pair of nippers, a pair of pliers, a pair of scis 88 physical phenomena. sors and an assortment of wire brads. you are ready for business. "when your sitter comes in you will notice his slates, if he brings a pair, and see if they are secured in any way that your man in the cellar can not duplicate. if they are, you can touch his slates with your finger and say to him that you can not use his slates on account of the 'magnetism' with which they are saturated. he will know nothing of 'magnetic conditions' and will ask you what he is to do about it. "you will furnish him a pair of new slates with water and cloths to clean them. you also furnish him paper to write his questions on and the screws, wax, paper and mucilage to secure them with. he will write his questions and fasten the slates securely together. "you now conduct him to your seance-room and invite inspection of your table and surroundings. after the examination has been made you will seat the sitter at one side of the table with 1 is side and arm next it. if he desires to keep hold of the slates a signal agreed upon between yourself and your assistant will cause the spirit in the cellar to open the trap door, which opens down wards, and to push through the floor and into position where the sitter can grasp one end of it, a pair of dummy slate-writing. 85 slates. this dummy your assistant will continue to hold until the sitter has taken hold of it after the following performance: "your assistant lets you know everything is ready by touching your foot. you now reach and take the sitter's slates and put them below the table, and under it, telling the sitter to put his hand under from his side and hold them with you. he puts his hand under and gets hold of the dummy slates held by your assistant. "your assistant holds on until you have stood the slates on end, leaning against the table leg, and have got hold of the dummy. he then takes the sitter's slates below and closes the trap. he proceeds to open them, read the questions, answer them and refasten the slates. "you will be entertaining your sitter by twitching and jerking and making clairvoyant and clairaudient guesses for him. "when your assistant touches your foot you will know that he is ready to make the exchange again, by which the sitter will get hold of the slates he fastened. when you get the signal you give a snort and jump that jerks the end of the slates from the sitter's hand. he is now given the end of the slates held by your assistant, and you will allow the assistant to take the dummy. after 50 physical phenomena. sitting a moment or two longer, you will tell the sitter to take out his slates and examine them if he chooses. many times they do not open the slates until they reach their homes. "this, reader, is the man who will declare that he furnished the slates and did not allow them out of his hands a minute. "the usual method of obtaining the writing is for the medium to hold the slates alone. when this is the case the medium passes the slates below, and receives in re turn a dummy which he is continually thumping on the under side of the table for the purpose of showing the sitter that the slates are there all the time. "it is not necessary that you should use a cellar to get this phase of 'independent slate-writing/ you could place your table against a partition door and by fitting one of the small panels with hinges and bolts, would have a very convenient way of obtaining the assistance of the spirit in the next room. it is also possible to make a trap in a room that has a wooden wainscoting." before closing this brief survey of slate-writing ex periments, i must describe an exceedingly ingenious trick, indeed, bordering on the marvelous. it is the re cent invention of a western conjurer, and solves the slate-writing. 91 problem of actually writing between locked slates by physical means. the effect is as follows: you request the sitter to take two slates, wash them carefully, and tie them together, after first having placed a bit of chalk between their surfaces. hold them under the table for a minute, and then hand them to the sitter for examina tion. a name, or a short sentence, in answer to some question, will be found scrawled across the upper surface of the bottom slate. it is accomplished in this way. you take a small pellet of iron or steel, coat it with muci lage, and dip it into chalk or slate-pencil dust. this dust will adhere and harden into a consistent mass, after a little while, completely concealing the metal, and caus ing the whole to resemble a bit of chalk. take this sup posed pellet of chalk from your vest pocket and place it between the slates; hold the latter level beneath a table, and by moving the poles of a strong magnet against the surface of the under si?*?, you can cause the iron or steel to write a name or sentence, thanks to its coating of chalk dust. it is better to use slates with rather deep frames, in order that the chalked metal may write with facility. it requires considerable practice to write with ease in the manner described above. the first thing of course is to locate the position of the chalk between the 92 physical phenomena. locked slates. to enable you to do this, place the sup posed chalk in one corner of slate no. 1 before covering with slate no. 2, or else exactly in the center of slate no. 2. in this way you will have no difficulty in affecting the metal with the magnet, when the slates are held un der the table. there are various ways of holding the slates; one, is to ask the sitter to hold one end, while you hold the other, five or six inches above the table. the light is put out, and you take the magnet from your pocket and execute the writing. the noise of the mag net passing over the surface of the under slate serves to represent a disembodied spirit as doing the writing. d. d. home. 93 2. the master of the mediums. one of the most remarkable personalities serving as an exponent of spiritualism was daniel dunglas home, the napoleon of necromancy, and the past grand master of mediums. his career reads like a romance. he lived in a sort of twilight land, and hob-nobbed with kings, queens and other people of noble blood. "something unsubstantial, ghostly, seems this theurgist, in deep meditation mostly wrapped, as in a mist. vague, phantasmal and unreal, to our thoughts he seems, walking in a world ideal, in a land of dreams." he wound his serpentine way into the best society of london, paris, berlin, rome, and st. petersburg "al ways despising filthy lucre," as maskelyn remarks, "but never refusing a diamond worth ten times the amount he would have received in cash, or some present, which the host of the house at which he happened to be manifesting always felt constrained to offer." this thaumaturgist of the nineteenth century was born near edinburg, scotland, on march 20, 1833, and 94 physical phenomena. came of a family reported to be gifted with "second sight." his father, william home, was a natural son of alexander, tenth earl of home. strange phenom ena occurred during the medium's childhood. at the age of nine he was adopted by his aunt, mrs. mcneill cook, who brought him to america. he began giv ing seances about the year 1852. among the notable men who attended these early "sittings" were william cullen bryant, professors wells and hare, and judge edmonds. home had a tall, slight figure, a fair and freckled face before disease made it the ">lor of yellow wax keen, slaty-blue eyes, thin bloodless lips, a rather snub nose, and curly auburn hair. his manners, though forward, were agreeable, and he recited such poetry as poe's "raven" and "ulalume" with powerful effect. he was altogether a weird sort of personage. his principal me diumistic manifestations were rappings, table-tipping, ghostly materializations, playing on sealed musical in struments, levitation, and handling fire with impunity. in 1855 he launched his necromantic bark on euro pean waters. no man since cagliostro ever created so profound a sensation in the old world. he wrote his reminiscences in two large volumes, but little credence d. d. home. 95 can be given them, as they are full of extravagant state ments and wild fantasies. the london punch (may 9th, 1868), printed the fol lowing effusion on the medium, a sort of parody on "home, sweet home:" through realms thaumaturgic the student may roam, and nob light on a worker of wonders like home. cagliostro himself might descend from his chair, and set up our daniel as grand-cophta there home, home, dan. home, no medium like home. spirit legs, spirit hands, he gives table and chair; gravitation defying, he flies in the air; but the fact to which henceforth his fame should be pinned, is his power to raise, not himself but the wind! home, home, dan. home, no medium like home. robert browning made him the subject of his cele brated satirical poem, "mr. sludge, the medium." some of the most celebrated scientific and literary personages of england became interested in his myster ious abilities, and among his intimate friends were the 96 physical phenomena. earl of dunraven, mary howitt, mrs. s. c. hall, prof. wallace, and sir edward bulwer-lytton. there is good authority for believing that home was the mysterious margrave of bulwer's weird novel, "a strange story." bulwer was an ardent believer in the supernatural and home spent many days at knebworth amid a select coterie of ghost-seers. the famous novelist relates that as home sat with him in the library of knebworth, conversing upon politics, social matters, books or other chance topics, the chairs rocked and the tables were suspended in mid-air, when the medium was requested to exert his power and found himself in condition, it is alleged, he would riseandrloat about the room. this in spiritualistic par lance is termed "levitation". at knebworth and other places, some of the most prominent people of the day claim to have seen home lift himself up and sail tran quilly out of a window, around the house, and come in by another window. the earl of dunraven told many stories equally strange of performances that were given in his presence. the earl declared that he had many times seen home elongate and shorten his body, and cause the closed piano to play by putting his fingers on the lid. fig. 7 home at the tuilekies, d. d. home. 99 in the autumn of 1855 the famous medium went to florence; there, also, the spirit manifestations secured him the entree into the best society of the old italian city. in his memoirs he speaks of an incident occurring through his mediumship, at a seance given in florence: "upon one occasion, while the countess c was seated at one of erard's grand-action pianos, it rose and bal anced itself in the air, during the whole time she was playing." an english lady, resident at florence, in a supposed haunted house, procured the services of home to exorcise the ghost. they sat at a table in the sitting room, and raps were heard proceeding from that piece of furniture, and rustling sounds in the room as of a per son moving about in a heavy garment. the spirit being adjured in the name of the "holy trinity" to leave the premises, the demonstrations ceased. in february, 1856, the medium joined the retinue of count b , a polish nobleman, and went to naples with his patron. from naples to rome was the next step, and, in the eternal city, the medium joined the romish church, and was adjured by the pope to abandon spirit stances forever. in 1858 we find home in st. peters burg, where he married the youngest daughter of gen eral count de kroll,of russia, and a goddaughter of the 100 physical phenomena. emperor nicholas, the marriage taking place on sun day, august 1, 1858, in the private chapel attached to the house of the lady's brother-in-law, the count greg oire koucheleff-besborodko. it was a very notable af fair, and alexander dumas came from paris to attend the ceremony. home's spirit power which had left him since his conversion to the roman catholic faith now re turned in full force, it is said, and he saw standing near him at the wedding the spirit form of his mother. in 1862 his wife died at the chateau laroche, near perig neux, france, and the medium repaired to rome for the purpose of studying sculpture. the reports of the spirit phenomena constantly attending home's presence reached the ears of the papal authorities and he was compelled to leave the city, notwithstanding the fact that he gave positive assurance that he would give no seance. he was actually charged with being a sorcerer, like cag liostro, an accusation that reads very strange in the nine teenth century. this affair embittered home against the church, and he abandoned roman catholicism for the greek church. after the roman fiasco, the famous medium returned to england to give spiritualistic lectures and stances. a writer in "all the year round", gives the following pen d. d. home. 101 picture of the medium, as he appeared in 1866: "he is a tall, thin man, with broad square shoulders, suggest ive of a suit of clothes hung upon an iron cross. his hair is long and yellow; his teeth are large, glittering and sharp ; his eyes are a pale grey, with a redness about the eye-lids, which comes and goes in a ghastly manner, as he talks. when he shows his glittering sharp teeth, and that red line comes round his slowly rolling eyes, he is not a pleasant sight to look upon. his hands are long, white and bony, and on taking them you discover that they are icy cold." a suit of clothes hung upon an iron cross is a weird touch in this pen picture. home about this time intended going upon the stage, but abandoned the idea to become the secretary of the "spiritual atheneum", a society formed for the investi gation of psychic phenomena. one of the most notable passages in the life of the great medium was the famous law suit in which he was concerned in england. in 1866 he became acquainted with a wealthy lady, mrs. jane lyons. in his role of medium she consulted him constantly about the welfare of her husband in the spirit world, and her business af fairs. she gave him 33,000 for his services. rela 102 physical phenomena. tives and friends of mrs. lyons, however, saw in home a cunning adventurer who was preying upon a weak minded woman. a suit was instituted against the medi um to recover the money, and the case became a cause cclebre in the annals of the english courts. in the autumn of 1871, home, who before that time, had been quite a "lion" at the court of napoleon iii and eugene, followed the german army from sedan to ver sailles, and was hand-in-glove with the king of prussia. his second marriage took place in october, 1871, at paris, and after a brief honeymoon in england he visited st. petersburg with his wife, who was a member of the noble russian family of alsakoff. on the 21st of june, 1886, the great american ghost seer died of consumption, at auteuil,near paris, france. for years he was out of health, and he ascribed his weak ness to the expenditure of vital force in working wonders during the earlier part of his career. he was buried at st. germain-en-laye, with the rites of the russian church. the funeral was a very simple one, not more than twenty persons being present, all of whom were in full evening dress. the idea was to emphasize the spiritualists' belief that death is not a d. d. home. 103 subject for mourning, but is liberation, an occasion for rejoicing. the curious reader will find many accounts of home's invulnerability to fire while in the trance state, notably those of prof. crookes, contained in the proceedings of the society for psychical research. in the march, 1868, number of "human .nature" mr. h. d. jencken writes as follows concerning a seance given by the medium : "mr. home, (after various manifestations) said, 'we have gladly shown you our power over fluids, we will now show you our power over solids.' he then knelt down before the hearth, and deliberately breaking up a glowing piece of coal in the fire place, took up a largish lump of incandescent coal and placing 'the same in his left hand, proceeded to explain that caloric had been ex tracted by a process known to them (the spirits), and that the heat could in part be returned. this he proved by alternately cooling and heating the coal; and to con vince us of the fact, allowed us to handle the coal which had become cool, then suddenly resumed its heat suffi cient to burn one, as i again touched it. i examined mr. home's hand, and quite satisfied myself that no artificial means had been employed to protect the skin, which did not even retain the smell of smoke. mr. home then re 104 physical phenomena. seated himself, and shortly awoke from his trance quite pale and exhausted." other witnesses of the above experiment were lord lindsay, lord adare, miss douglas, mr. s. c. hall, mr. w. h. harrison and prof. wallace. mr. h. nisbet, of glasgow,, relates (human nature, feb. 1870) that in his own home in january, 1870, mr. home took a red hot coal from the grate and put it in the hands of a lady and gentleman to whom it felt only warm. subsequently he placed the same on a folded newspaper, the result being a hole burnt through eight layers of paper. taking an other blazing coal he laid it on the same journal, and carried it around the apartment for upwards of three minutes, without scorching the paper. among the crowned heads and famous people before whom mr: home appeared were napoleon iii and the empress eugenie, queen victoria, king louis i and king maximilian of bavaria, the emperor of russia, the king and queen of wurtemberg, the duchess of hamilton, the crownprince of prussia and old gen. von moltke. alexander dumas the elder, was a constant companion of the medium for a long time, and wrote columns about him. napoleon iii had two sittings with home and it is d. d. home. 105 said home materialized the spirit of the first napoleon, who appeared in his familiar cocked hat, gray overcoat and dark green uniform with white facings. "my fate?" asked louis, trembling with awe. "like mine dis crowned, and death in exile," replied the ghost; then it vanished. the empress swooned and napoleon iii fell back in his chair as if about to faint. the medium in his first seance with the french emperor succeeded only in materializing some flowers and a spirit hand, which the emperor was permitted to grasp. celia logan, the journalist, in writing of one of home's s ances at a nobleman's house in london, says: "on .this occasion the medium announced that, he would produce balls of fire and illuminated hands. fail ing in the former, he declared that the spirits were not strong enough for that to-night, and so he would have to confine himself to showing the luminous hands. "the house was darkened and home groped his way alone to the head of the broad staircase, where every few minutes a pair of luminous hands were thrown up. the audience was satisfied generally. one lady, however, was not, and whispered to me she was a half-hearted spiritualist that it looked to her as if he had rubbed his own hands over with lucifer matches, io6 physical phenomena. "the host stood near the mantel piece and had seen home abstractedly place a small bottle upon it when he left the room for the staircase. that bottle the 'host quietly slipped into his pocket. upon examination the next day it was found to contain phosphorated olive oil or some similar preparation. "the host had declared himself to have seen home float through the air from one side of the room to the other, lift a piano several feet in the air by simply plac ing a finger upon it, and had seen him materialize disembodied spirits; but after the discovery of the phosphorus trick he dropped home at once." it is a significant* fact that the medium while giving stances in paris in 1857 refused to meet houdin, the renowned prestidigitateur. i shall now attempt an expose of home's physical phenomena. home's extraordinary feat of alternately cooling and heating a lump of coal taken from a blazing fire, as related by mr. h. d. jencken and others, is easily explained. it is a juggling trick. the "coal" is a piece of spongy platinum which bears a close resemblance to a lump of half burnt coal, and is palmed in the hand, as a prestidigitateur conceals a coin, a pack of cards, an egg, or a small lemon. the medium or magician ad d. d. home. 107 vances to the grate and pretends to take a genuine lump of coal from the fire but brings up instead, at> the tips of his fingers, the piece of platinum. in a secret breast pocket of his coat he has a small reservoir of hydrogen, with a tube coming down the sleeve and terminating an inch or so above the cuff. by means of certain mechani cal arrangements, to enable him to let on and off the gas at the proper moment, he is able to accomplish the trick ; for when a current of hydrogen is allowed to impinge upon a piece of spongy platinum, the metal becomes in candescent, and as soon as the current is arrested the platinum is restored to its normal condition. the hand may be protected from burning in vari ous ways, one method being the repeated appli cation of sulphuric acid to the skin, whereby it is rendered impervious to the action of fire for a short period of time ; another, by wearing gloves of amianthus or asbestos cloth. with the latter, worn in a badly lighted room, the medium, with out much risk of discovery, can handle red hot coals or iron with impunity. the gloves may at the proper moment be slipped off and concealed about the person. a small slip of amianthus cloth placed on a newspaper would protect it from a hot coal and the same means 108 physical phenomena. could be used when a coal is placed in another's hand or upon his head. as to the marvelous "levitation", either the witnesses of the alleged feat were under some hypnotic spell, or else they allowed their imaginations to run riot when describing the event. in the case of lord lindsay and lord adare, d. carpenter in his valuable paper "on fal lacies respecting the supernatural" (contemporary re view, jan., 1876) says: "a whole party of believers af firm that they saw mr. home float out of one window and in at another, while a single honest skeptic declares that mr. home was sitting in his chair all the time." it seems that there were three gentlemen present besides the medium when the alleged phenomenon took place, the two noblemen and a ''cousin". it is this unnamed hard-headed cousin to whom dr. carpenter refers as the "honest skeptic." many of home's admirers have declared that he pos sessed the power of mesmerizing certain of his friends. these gentlemen were no doubt hypnotized and related honestly what they believed they had seen. again, the expectancy of attention and the nervous tension of the average sitter in spirit-circles tend to produce a morbidly impressible condition of mind. many mediums since d. d. home. 109 home's day have performed the act of levitation, but al ways in a dark room. mr. angelo lewis, the writer on magic, reveals an ingenious method by which levitation is effected. when the lights are extinguished the medi um who, by the way, must be a clever ventriloquist removes his boots and places them on his hands. "i am rising, i am rising, but pay no attention", he remarks, as he goes about the apartment, where the sitters are grouped in a circle about him, and he lightly touches the heads of various persons. a shadowy form is dimly seen and a smell of boot leather becomes ap parent to the olfactory senses of many present. people jump quickly to conclusions in such matters and argue that where the feet of the medium are, his body must surely be namely, floating in the air. the illusion is further enhanced by the performers ventriloquial powers. "i am rising! i am touching the ceiling!" he exclaims, imitating the sound of a voice high up. when the lights are turned up, the medium is seen (this time with his boots on his feet) standing on tip-toe, as if just descended from the ceiling. sometimes before performing the levitation act, he will say, "in order to convince any skeptic present, that i really float upwards, i will write the initials of my name, ho physical phenomena. or the name of some one present, on the ceiling." when the lights are raised, the letters are seen written on the ceiling in a bold scrawling hand. how is it done? the medium has concealed about him a telescopic steel rod, something like those chinese fishing rods at one time in vogue among modern disciples of izaak walton. this convenient rod when not in use folds up in a very small compass, but when it is shoved out to its full length, some three or four feet, with a bit of black chalk at tached, the writing on the ceiling is easily produced. the magicians of ancient egypt displayed their mystic rods as a part of their paraphernalia, while the modern magi bear theirs in secret. a tambourine, a guitar, a bell, or a spirit hand, rubbed with phosphorus, may also be fixed to this ingenious appliance, and floated over the heads of the spectators, and even a horn may be blown, through the hollow rod. the materialization of a spirit hand which crept from beneath a table-cover, and showed itself to the "be lievers/' was one of the most startling things in the rep ertoire of d. d. home, as it was in that of dr. monck's, an english medium. an explanation of monck's method of producing the hand may, per haps, throw some light on home's "materializa d. d. home. ill tion." a small dummy hand, artistically ex ecuted in wax, with the fingers slightly bent, is fastened to a broad elastic band about three feet in length. this band is attached to a belt about the per former's waist and passes down his left trouser leg, al lowing the hand to dangle within the trouser a few inches above the ankle. i must not forget to explain that to the wrist of the hand is appended an elastic sleeve about five inches long. the medium and two sitters take their seats at a square table, with an over-hanging table-cloth. no one is allowed to be seated at the same side of the table with the medium. this is an imperative condition. "dimmish the light, please," says the medium. some one rises to lower the gas to the required dim religious light necessary to all spirit seances. "a little lower, please! lower, lower still!" remarks the medium. out the light goes. "dear, me, but this is vexatious! some body light it again and be more careful!" he ejaculates. under cover of the darkness the agile operator crosses his left foot over his right knee, pulls down the wax hand and fixes it to the toe of his boot by means of the elastic sleeve, the apparatus being masked from the sit ters by the table cloth until the time comes for the spirit ii2 physical phenomena. materialization. the three men place their hands on the table and wait patiently for developments. presently a rap is heard under the table disjointed knee of the med ium, and then mirabile dictu! the table-cloth shakes and a delicate female hand emerges and shows itself above the edge of the table. a guitar being placed close to the fingers, they soon strum the strings, or rather appear to do so, the medium being the deus ex machina. the cleverest part of the whole performance is the fact that the medium never takes his hands from the table. he quietly puts his left foot down on the floor and places his right foot heavily on the false hand off it comes from the left foot and shoots up the trouser leg like lightning. the sitters may look under the table but they see nothing. an ingenious improvement has been made to this hand-test by an american conjurer, one that enables the medium to produce the hand although his feet are se cured by the sitter. "be kind enough, sir/' says the per former to the investigator, "to place your feet on mine. if i should move my feet ever so little, you would know it, would you not?" the sitter replies in the affirma tive. the medium, as soon as he feels the pressure of the sitter's feet, withdraws his right foot from a steel d. d. home. 113 shape made in imitation of the toe of his boot, and oper ates the spirit hand at his leisure. after the sitting, he of course, inserts his right foot into the shape and carries it off with him. the production of spirit music was one of home's favorite experiments. there are all sorts of ways of producing this music, the most ingenious of which i give: the apparatus consists of a small circular musical box, wound up by clock woik, and made to play when ever pressure is put upon a stud projecting a quarter of an inch from its surface. this box is strapped around the right leg of the medium just above his knee, and hidden beneath the trouser leg. when not in use it is on the under side of the leg. on the table a musical box is placed and covered with a soup tureen, or the top of a chafing dish. when the spec tators are seated, the medium works the concealed musical box around to the upper part of his leg near the knee cap, and by pressing the stud against the under surface of the table, starts the music playing. in this way the second musical box seems to play and the acoustic effect is perfect. perhaps home used a 114 physical phenomena. similar contrivance; dr. monck did, and was caught in the act by the chief of the detective police. home during his seances on the continent of eu rope was accused of all sorts of trickery. some as serted that he had concealed about him a small but powerful electric battery for producing certain il lusions, mechanical contrivances attached tohis legs for making spirit raps, and last but not least, as the medium states in his "memoirs:" "they even accused me of carrying a small monkey about with me, concealed, trained to perform all sorts of ghostly tricks." people also accused him of obtaining a great deal of his information about the spirits of the departed from tombstones like an old mortality, and bribing family servants. a more probable explanation may be found perhaps in telepathy. there is one more phase of home's mediumship, the moving of heavy pieces of furniture without phy sical contact, that must be spoken of. in mentioning it, dr. max dessoir, author of the "psychology of conjuring,"* says: "we must admit that a few feats, such as those of prof. crookes with home, con cerning the possibility of setting inanimate objects in "introduction to herrmann the magician, his "life, his secrets, (laird & i,ee, publishers.) crookes' experiments. 115 motion without touching them, appear to lie entirely outside the sphere of jugglery." in the year 1871, prof. william crookes, (now sir william crookes) fellow of the royal society, a very eminent scientist, subjected home to some elaborate tests in order to prove or disprove by means of scientific apparatus the * reality of phenomena con nected with variations in the weight of bodies, with or without contact. he declared the tests to be entirely satisfactory, but ascribed the phenomena not to spirit ual agency, but to a new force, "in some unknown manner connected with the human organization," which for convenience he called the "psychic force." he said in his "reseaches in the phenomena of spirit ualism:" "of all the persons endowed with a powerful development of this psychic force, and who have been termed 'mediums' upon quite another theory of its origin, mr. daniel dunglas home is the most re markable, and it is mainly owing to the many oppor tunities i have had of carrying on my investigations in his presence that i am enabled to affirm so con clusively the existence of this force." prof. crookes' experiments were conducted, as he says, in the full light, and in the presence of witnesses, among them il6 physical phenomena. being the famous english barrister, sergeant cox, and the astronomer, dr. huggins. heavy articles became light and light articles heavy when the me dium came near them. in some cases he lightly touched them, in others refrained from contact. the first piece of the apparatus constructed by fig. 8. crookes' apparatus. crookes to test this psychic force consisted of a ma hogany board 36 inches long by9j inches wide and 1 inch thick. a strip of mahogany was screwed on at one end, to form a foot, the length being equal to the width of the board. this end of the board was placed on a table, while the other end was upheld by a spring crookes' experiments. 117 balance, fastened to a strong tripod stand, as will be seen in fig. 8. "mr. home," writes prof. crookes, "placed the tips of his fingers lightly on the extreme end of the ma hogany board which was resting on the support, whilst dr. a. b. [dr. muggins] and myself sat, one on each side of it, watching for any effect which might be produced. almost immediately the pointer of the balance was seen to descend. after a few sec onds it rose again. this movement was repeated several times, as if by successive waves of the psychic force. the end of the board was observed to oscil late slowly up and down during the experiment. "mr. home now, of his own accord, took a small hand-bell and a little card match-box, which hap pened to be near, and placed one under each hand, to satisfy us, as he said, that he was not producing the downward pressure. the very slow oscillation of the spring balance became more marked, and dr. a. b., watching the index, said that he saw it descend to 6j ibs. the normal weight of the board as so sus pended being 3 ibs., the additional downward pull was therefore 3j ibs. on looking immediately afterwards at the automatic register, we saw that the index il8 physical phenomena. had at one time descended as low as 9 ibs., showing a maximum pull of 6 ibs. upon a board whose normal weight was 3 ibs. "in order to see whether it was possible to produce much effect on the spring balance by pressure at the place where mr. home's fingers had been, i stepped upon the table and stood on one foot at the end of the board. dr. a. b., who was observing the index of the balance, said that the whole weight of my body (140 ibs.) so applied only sunk the index 1j ibs., or 2 ibs. when i jerked up and down. mr. home had been sitting in a low easy-chair, and could not, therefore, had he tried his utmost, have exerted any material in fluence on these results. i need scarcely add that his feet as well as his hands were closely guarded by all in the room." the next series of experiments is thus described: "on trying these experiments for the first time, i thought that actual contact between mr. home's hands and the suspended body whose weight was to be altered was essential to the exhibition of the force; but i found afterwards that this was not a necessary condition, and i therefore arranged my apparatus in the following manner: crookes* experiments. lit, "the accompanying cuts (figs. 9, 10 and 11) explain the arrangement. fig. 9 is a general view, and figs. 10 and 11 show the essential parts more in detail. the reference letters are the same in each illustration. a b is a mahogany board, 36 inches long by 9 inches wide, and 1 inch thick. it is suspended at the end, b, by a spring balance, c, furnished with an automatic fig. 9. crookes' apparatus. register, d. the balance is suspended from a very firm tripod support, e. "the following piece of apparatus is not shown in the figures. to the moving index, o, of the spring balance, a fine steel point is soldered, projecting hori zontally outwards. in front of the balance, and firmly fastened to it, is a grooved frame, carry 120 physical phenomena. fig. 10. crookes' apparatus. ing a flat box similar to the dark box of a photo graphic camera. this box is made to travel by clock-work horizontally in front of the moving index, and it contains a sheet of plate-glass which has been smoked over a flame. the projecting steel point im presses a mark on this smoked surface. if the bal ance is at rest, and the clock set going, the result is a perfectly straight horizontal line. if the clock is stopped and weights are placed on the end, b, of the board, the result is a vertical line, whose length depends on the weight applied. if, whilst the clock draws the plate along, the weight of the board (or the tension on the balance) varies, the result is a curved crookes' experiments. j2 i line, from which the tension in grains at any moment during the continuance of the experiments can be calculated. 'the instrument was capable of registering a di minution of the force of gravitation as well as an in crease; registrations of such a diminution were fre quently obtained. to avoid complication, however, i will here refer only to results in which an increase of gravitation was experienced. fig. ii. crookes' apparatus. "the end, b, of the board being supported by the spring balance, the end, a, is supported on a wooden 122 physical phenomena. strip, f, screwed across its lower side and cut to a knife edge (see fig. 11). this fulcrum rests on a firm and heavy wooden stand, g h. on the board, exactly over the fulcrum, is placed a large glass vessel filled with water. i l is a massive iron stand, furnished with an arm and a ring, m n, in which rests a hemispheri cal copper vessel perforated with several holes at the bottom. "the iron stand is 2 inches from the board, a b, and the arm and copper vessel, m n, are so adjusted that the latter dips into the water 1j inches, being 5-j inches from the bottom of i, and 2 inches from its cir cumference. shaking or striking the arm, m, or the vessel, n, produces no appreciable mechanical effect on the board, a b, capable of affecting the balance. dipping the hand to the fullest extent into the water in n does not produce the least appreciable action on the balance. "as the mechanical transmission of power is by this means entirely cut off between the copper vessel and the board, a b, the power of muscular control is thereby completely eliminated. "for convenience i will divide the experiments into groups, 1, 2, 3, etc., and i have selected one special crookes' experiments. 123 instance in each to describe in detail. nothing, how ever, is mentioned which has not been repeated more than once, and in some cases verified, in mr. home's absence, with another person, possessing similar pow ers. "there was always ample light in the room where the experiments were conducted (my own dining room) to see all that took place. "experiment i. the apparatus having been prop erly adjusted before mr. home entered the room, he was brought in, and asked to place his fingers in the water in the copper vessel, n. he stood up and dipped the tips of the fingers of his right hand in the water, his other hand and his feet being held. when he said he felt a power, force, or influence, proceeding from his hand, i set the clock going, and almost im mediately the end, b, of the board was seen to descend slowly and remain down for about 10 seconds; it then descended a little further, and afterwards rose to its normal height. it then descended again, rose sud denly, gradually sunk for 17 seconds, and finally rose to its normal height, where it remained till the ex periment was concluded. the lowest point marked on the glass was equivalent to a direct pull of about 124 physical phenomena. 5,000 grains. the accompanying figure 12 is a copy of the curve traced on the glass. "experiment ii. contact through water having proved to be as effectual as actual mechanical con tact, i wished to see if the power or force could affect the weight, either through other portions of the ap paratus or through the air. the glass vessel and iron stand, etc., were therefore removed, as an unnecessary complication, and mr. home's hands were placed on the scale of seconds. 5 18 to so a9 so fig. 12. diagram showing tension in crookes' apparatus under the influence of home. stand of the apparatus at p (fig. 9). a gentleman present put his hand on mr. home's hands, and his foot on both mr. home's feet, and i also watched him closely all the time. at the proper moment the clock was again set going; the board descended and rose in an irregular manner, the result being a curved tracing on the glass, of which fig. 13 is a copy. crookes experiments. scale thb same as in fig. 12. fig. 13. diagram showing tension in crookes' apparatus under thb influence of home. "experiment iii. mr. home was now placed one foot from the board, a b, on one side of it. his hands and feet were firmly grasped by a by-stander, and another tracing, of which fig. 14 is a copy, was taken on the moving glass plate. scale the same as in fig. 12. fig. 14. diagram showing tension in crookes' apparatus under home's influence. "experiment iv. (tried on an occasion when the power was stronger than on the previous occasions), mr. home was now placed 3 feet from the appara tus, his hands and feet being tightly held. the clock was set going when he gave the word, and the end, b, scale the same as in fig. 12. fig. 15. diagram showing tension in crookes' apparatus under home's influence. 126 physical phenomena. of the board soon descended, and again rose in an ir regular manner, as shown in fig. 15. 'the following series of experiments were tried with more delicate apparatus, and with another per son, a lady, mr. home being absent. as the lady is non-professional, i do not mention her name. she has, however, consented to meet any scientific men whom i may introduce for purposes of investigation. "a piece of thin parchment, a, (figs. 16 and 17), is stretched tightly across a circular hoop of wood. b c is a light lever turning on d. at the end b is a vertical needle point touching the membrane a, and at c is another needle point, projecting horizontally fig. 16. second crookes' apparatus. and touching a smoked glass plate, e f. this glass plate is drawn along in the direction h g by clockwork, k. the end, b, of the lever is weighted so that it shall quickly follow the movements of the crookes' experiments. 127 centre of the disc, a. these movements are trans mitted and recorded on the glass plate, e f, by means of the lever and needle point, c. holes are cut in the side of the hoop to allow a free passage of air to the under side of the membrane. the apparatus was well tested beforehand by myself and others, to see that no shaking or jar on the table or support would interfere with the results: the line traced by the point, c, ,.*:. .v-, ] /t\ /7 s fig. i?. section op apparatus in fig. l6. on the smoked glass was perfectly straight in spite of all our attempts to influence the lever by shaking the stand or stamping on the floor. "experiment v. without having the object of the instrument explained to her, the lady was brought into the room and asked to place her fingers on the wooden stand at the points, l m, fig. 16. i then placed my hands over hers to enable me to detect any 128 physical phenomena. conscious or unconscious movement on her part. presently percussive noises were heard on the parch ment, resembling the dropping of grains of sand on its surface. at each percussion a fragment of graph ite which i had placed on the membrane was seen to be projected upwards about i~5oth of r.n inch, and the end, c, of the lever moved slightly up and down. sometimes the sounds were as rapid as those from an induction-coil, whilst at others they were more than a second apart. five or six tracings were taken, and in all cases a movement of the end, c, of the lever was seen to have occurred with each vibration of the membrane. "in some cases the lady's hands were not so near the membrane as l m, but were at n o, fig 17. scale of seconds. d.s l pig. 18. diagram showing tension in crookes' apparatus (fig. 15 and 16) outside home's influence. "the accompanying fig. 18 gives tracings taken from the plates used on these occasions. crookes' experiments. 129 "experiment vi. having met with these results in mr. home's absence, i was anxious to see what ac tion would be produced on the instrument in his pres ence. ''accordingly i asked him to try, but without ex plaining the instrument to him. "i grasped mr. home's right arm above the wrist and held his hand over the membrane, about 10 inches from its surface, in the position shown at p, fig. 17. his other hand was held by a friend. after remaining in this position for about half a minute, mr. home said he felt some influence passing. i then set the clock going, and we all saw the index, c, moving up and down. the movements were much slower than in the former case, and were almost en tirely unaccompanied by the percussive vibrations then noticed. "figs. 19 and 20 show the curves produced on the glass on two of these occasions. "figs. 18, 19 and 20 are magnified. "these experiments confirm beyond doubt the con clusions at which i arrived in my former paper, name ly, the existence of a force associated, in some manner not yet explained, with the human organization, by 130 physical phenomena. which force increased weight is capable of being im parted to solid bodies without physical contact. in the case of mr. home, the development of this force scale the same as in fig 18. fig. 19. diagram showing tension in crookes* apparatus (fig. l6 and 17) under home's influence. varies enormously, not only from week to week, but from hour to hour; on some occasions the force is in appreciable by my tests for an hour or more, and then suddenly reappears in great strength. "it is capable of acting at a distance from mr. scale the same as on fig. l8. fig. 20. diagram showing tension in crookes' apparatus (fig. l6 and 17) under home's influence. home (not nnfrequently as far as two or three feet), but is always strongest close to him. "being firmly convinced that there could be no manifestation of one form of force without the corre crookes' experiments. 131 spending expenditure of some other form of force, i for a long time searched in vain for evidence of any force or power being used up in the production of these results. "now, however, having seen more of mr. home, i think i perceive what it is that this psychic force uses up for its development. in employing the terms vital force or nervous energy, i am aware that i am em ploying words which convey very different significa tions to many investigators; but after witnessing the painful state of nervous and bodily prostration in which some of these experiments have left mr. home after seeing him lying in an almost fainting condi tion on the floor, pale and speechless i could scarce ly doubt that the evolution of psychic force is accom panied by a corresponding drain on vital force." sergeant cox in speaking of the tests says, "the results appear to me conclusively to establish the im portant fact, that there is a force proceeding from the nerve-system capable of imparting motion and weight to solid bodies within the sphere of its influence." one of the medium's defenders has written: "home's mysterious power, whatever it may have been, was very uncertain. sometimes he could ex 132 physical phenomena. ercise it, and at others not, and these fluctuations were not seldom the source of embarrassment to him. he would often arrive at a place in obedience to an engagement, and, as he imagined, ready to perform, when he would discover himself absolutely helpless. after a seance his exhaustion appeared to be com plete. "there is no more striking proof of the fact that home really possessed occult gifts of some sort psychic force or whatever else the power may be termed than he gave such amazing exhibitions in the early part of his history and was able to do so little toward the end. if it had been juggling he would, like other conjurors, have improved on his tricks by experience, or at all events, while his mem ory held out he would not have deteriorated." dr. hammond's experiments. dr. william a. hammond, the eminent neurolo gist, of washington, d. c, took up the cudgels against prof. crookes' "psychic force" theory, and assigned the experiments to the domain of animal electricity. he wrote as follows:* "place an egg in an egg-cup and balance a long lath upon the egg. *spiritualism and nervous derangement, new york, 1876. p. 115. hammond's experiments. 133 though the lath be almost a plank it will obediently follow a rod of glass, gutta percha or sealing-wax, which has been previously well dried and rubbed, the former with a piece of silk, and the two latter with woolen cloth. now, in dry weather, many persons within my knowledge, have only towalk with a shuf fig. 21. dr. hammond's apparatus. fling gait over the carpet, and then approaching the lath hold out the finger instead of the glass, sealing wax or gutta percha, and instantly the end of the lath at l rises to meet it, and the end at l is depressed. applying these principles, i arranged an apparatus exactly like that of prof. crookes, except that the spring balance was such as is used for weighing let ters and was therefore very delicate, indicating quar ter ounces with exactness, and that the board was thin and narrow. 134 physical phenomena. "applying the glass rod or stick of sealing-wax to the end resting by its foot on the table, the index of the balance at once descended, showing an increased weight of a little over three quarters of an ounce, and this without the board being raised from the table. "i then walked over a thick turkey rug for a few moments, and holding my finger under the board near the end attached to the balance, caused a fall of the index of almost half an ounce. i then rested my finger lightly on the end of the board immediately over the foot, and again the index descended and os cillated several times, just as in mr. home's experi ments. the lowest point reached was six and a quar ter ounces, and as the board weighed, as attached to the balance, five ounces, there was an increased weight of one and a quarter ounces. at no time was the end of the board raised from the table. "i then arranged the apparatus so as to place a thin glass tumbler nearly full of water immediately over the fulcrum, as in mr. crookes' experiment, and again the index fell and oscillated on my fingers being put into the water. "now if one person can thus, with a delicate ap paratus like mine, cause the index, through electri rope-tying. i35 city, to descend and ascend, it is not improbable that others, like mr. home, could show greater, or even different electrical power, as in prof. crookes' experi ments. it is well known that all persons are not alike in their ability to be electrically excited. many per sons, myself among them, can light the gas with the end of the finger. others cannot do it with any amount of shuffling over the carpet. "at any rate is it not much more sensible to believe that mr. home's experiments are to be thus ex plained than to attribute the results of his semi-mys terious attempts to spiritualism or psychic force?" 8. rope-tying and holding mediums. the davenport brothers. ira erastus and william henry davenport were born at buffalo, n. y., the former on sept. 17, 1839, and the latter on february 1, 1841. their father, ira davenport, was in the police detective department, and, it is alleged, invented the celebrated rope-tying feats after having seen the indian jugglers of the west perform similar illusions. the usual stories about ghostly phenomena attending the childhood of mediums were told about the davenport brothers, but it was not until 1855 that they started on their tour 136 physical phenomena. of the united states, with their father as showman or spiritual lecturer. when the civil war broke out, the brothers, accompanied by dr. j. b. ferguson, formerly an independent minister of nashville, tenn., in the capacity of lecturer, and a mr. palmer as gen eral agent and manager, went to england to exhibit their mediumistic powers, following the example of d. d. home. with the company also was a buffalo boy named fay, of german-american parentage, who had formerly acted as ticket-taker for the mediums. he discovered the secret of the rope-tying feat, and was an adept at the coat feat, so he was employed as an "under-study" in case of the illness of william davenport, who was in rather delicate health. the brothers davenport at this period, aged respectively 25 and 23 years, had "long black curly hair, broad but not high foreheads, dark eyes, heavy eye-brows and moustaches, firm set lips, and a bright, keen look." their first performance in england was given at the concert rooms, hanover square, london, and created intense excitement. punch called the furore over the spirit rope-tyers the "tie-fuss fever," and said the mediums were "ministers of the interior, with a seat in the cabinet." rope-tying. 137 j. n. maskelyne, the london conjurer of egyptian hall, wrote of them: "about the davenport broth ers' performances, i have to say that they were and still remain the most inexplicable ever presented to the public as of spiritual origin; and had they been put forth as feats of jugglery would have awakened a considerable amount of curiosity though certainly not to the extent they did." in september, 1865, the brothers arrived in paris, and placarded the city with enormous posters an nouncing that the brothers davenport, spirit-me diums, would give a series of public seances at the salle herz. their reputation had preceded them to france and the boulevardiers talked of nothing but the wonderful american mediums and their mysterious cabinet. before exhibiting in paris the davenports visited the chateau de gennevilliers, whose owner was an enthusiastic believer in spiritism, and gave a stance before a select party of journalists and scien tific men. the exhibition was pronounced marvel lous in the extreme and perfectly inexplicable. the parisian press was divided on the subject of the davenports and their advertised seances. some of the papers protested against such performances ft 138 physical phenomena. the ground that they were dangerous to the mental health of the public, and, one writer said, "particularly to those weaker intellects which are always ready enough to accept as gospel the tricks and artifices of the adepts of sham witchcraft." m. edmond about, the famous journalist and novelist, in the opinion na tionale, wrote a scathing denunciation of spiritism, but all to no purpose, except to inflame public curiosity. the performances of the davenports were divided into two parts: (1) the light seance, (2) the dark seance. in the light seance a cabinet, elevated from the stage by three trestles, was used. it was a simple wooden structure with three doors. in the centre door was a lozenge-shaped window covered with a curtain. upon the sides of the cabinet hung various musical instruments, a guitar, a violin, horns, tam bourines, and a big dinner bell. a committee chosen by the audience tied the me diums' hands securely behind their backs, fastened their legs together, and pinioned them to their seats in the cabinet, and to the cross rails with strong ropes. the side doors were closed first, then the center door, but no sooner was the last fastened, than the hands of one of the mediums were thrust through rope-tying. 139 fig, 22. the davenport brothers in their cabinet. i 4 physical phenomena. thewindow in the centre door. in a very short time,at asignalfrom the mediums, the doors were opened,and the davenports stepped forth, with the ropes in their hands, every knot untied, confessedly by spirit power. the astonishment of the spectators amounted to awe. on an average it took ten minutes to pinion the brothers; but a single minute was required for their release. once more the mediums went into the cabi net, this time with the ropes lying in a coil at their feet. two minutes elapsed. hey, presto! the doors were opened, and the davenports were pronounced by the committee to be securely lashed to their seats. seals were affixed to the knots in the ropes, and the doors closed as before. pandemonium reigned. bells were rung, horns blown, tambourines thumped, violins played, and guitars vigorously twanged. heavy rappings also were heard on the ceiling, sides and floor of the cabinet, then after a brief but absolute silence, a bare hand and arm emerged from the lozenge window, and rung the big dinner bell. on opening the doors the brothers were found securely tied as before, and seals intact. an amusing feature of the exhibition occurred when a venturesome spec tator volunteered to sit inside of t'ne cabinet between rope-tying. 141 the two mediums. he came out with his coat turned inside out and his hat jammed over his eyes. in the dark stance the cabinet was dispensed with and the spectators, holding hands, formed a ring around the mediums. the lights were put out and similar phenomena took place, with the addition of luminous hands, and musical instruments floating in the air. robert-houdin wrote an interesting brochure on the davenports, ("secrets of stage conjuring," translated by prof. hoffmann) from which i take the following: 'the ropes used by the davenport brothers are of a cotton fibre; and they present therefore smooth sur faces, adapted to slip easily one upon another. gen tlemen are summoned from the audience to tie the mediums. now, tell me, is it an easy task for an am ateur to tie a man up off-hand with a rope three yards long, in a very secure way? the amateur is flurried, self-conscious, anxious to acquit himself well of the business, but he is a gentleman, not a brute, and if one of the brothers sees the ropes getting into a dan gerous tangle, he gives a slight groan, as if he were being injured, and the instantaneous impulse of the other man is to loosen the cord a trifle. a fraction of an inch is an invaluable gain in the after-business of 142 physical phenomena. loosening the ropes. sometimes the stiffening of a muscle, the raising of a shoulder, the crooking of a knee, gives all the play required by the brothers in ridding themselves of their bonds. their muscles and joints are wonderfully supple, too*; the thumbs can be laid flat in the palm of the hand, the hand it self rounded until it is no broader than the wrist, and then it iseasy to pull through. violent wrenches send the ropes up toward the shoulder, vigorous shak ings get the legs free; the first hand untied is thrust through the hole in the door of the cabinet, and then returns to give aid to more serious knots on his own or his brother's person. in tying themselves up the davenports used the slip-knot, a sort of bow, the ends of which have only to be pulled to be tightened or loosened." this slip-knot is a very ingenious affair. (see fig. 23.) in performing the spirit-tying, the mediums went into the cabinet with the ropes examined by the audience lying coiled at their feet. the doors were closed. they had concealed about their persons ropes in which these trick knots were already ad justed, and with which they very speedily secured themselves, having first secreted the genuine ropes. rope-tying. 143 then the doors were opened. seals were affixed to the knots, but this sealing, owing to the position of the hands, and the careful exposition of the knots did not affect the slipping of the ropes suf ficiently to prevent the mediums from removing and replacing their hands. no. 23. trick-tie used in cabinkt work, in the dark seance, flour was sometimes placed in the pinioned hands of the davenports. on being re leased from their bonds, the flour was found undis turbed. this was considered a convincing test; for how could the brothers possibly manipulate the musical instruments with their hands full of flour. one day a wag substituted a handful of snuff for flour, and when the mediums were examined, the snuff had disap peared and flour taken its place. as will be under 144 physical phenomena. stood, in the above test the davenports emptied the flour from their hands into secret pockets and at the proper moment took out cornucopias of flour and filled their hands again before securing themselves in the famous slip-knots. among the exposes of the brothers davenport, herrmann, the conjurer, gives the following in the cosmopolitan magazine: "the davenports, for thirteen years, in europe and america, augmented the faith in spiritualism. unfortunately for the dav enports they appeared at ithaca, new york, where is situated cornell university. the students having a scientific trend of mind, provided themselves before attending the performance with pyiotechnic balls con taining phosphorus, so made as to ignite suddenly with a bright light. during the dark seance when the dav enports were supposed to be bound hand and foot within the closet and when the guitars were apparently floating in the air, the students struck their lights, whereupon the spirits were found to be no other than the daven ports themselves, dodging about the stage brandish ing guitars and playing tunes and waving at the same time tall poles surmounted by phosphorescent spook pictures." rope-tying. 145 the davenports had some stormy experiences in paris, but managed to come through all successfully, with plenty of french gold in their pockets. william died in october, 1877, at the oxford hotel, sydney, australia, having publicly denounced ' spiritualism. mr. fay took to raising sheep in australia, while ira davenport drifted back to his old home in buffalo, new york. many mediums, taking the cue from the daven ports, have performed the cabinet act with its accom panying rope-tying, but the conjurers (anti-spiritists) have, with the aid of mechanism, brought the busi ness to a high degree of perfection, notably mr. j. nevil maskelyne, of egyptian hall, london, and mr. harry kellar, of the united states. writing of the davenport brothers, maskelyne says: "the instantaneous tying and untying was simply marvellous, and it utterly baffled everyone to dis cover, until, on one occasion, the accidental falling of a piece of drapery from a window (the lozenge-shaped aperture in the door of the cabinet), at a critical mo ment let me into the secret. i was able in a few months to reproduce every item of the davenports* cabinet and dark stance. so close was the resem 146 physical phenomena. blance to the original, that the spiritualist had 'no alter native but to claim us (maskelyne and cooke) as most powerful spirit mediums who found it more pro fitable to deny the assistance of spirits?' robert-houdin's explanation of the slip-knot, used by the davenports in their dark seance, is the correct one, but he failed to fathom the mystery of the mode of release of the brothers after they were tied in the cabinet by a committee selected from the audience. anyone trying to extricate himself from bondage a la houdin, no matter how slippery and serpentine he be, would find it exceedingly difficult. it seems al most incredible, but trickery was used in the light seance, as well as the dark. maskelyne, as quoted above, claimed to have penetrated the mystery, but he kept it a profound secret though he declared that his cabinet work was trickery. the writer is in debted for an initiation into the mysteries of the dav enport brothers' rope-tying to mr. h. morgan rob inson (professor helmann), of washington, d. c, a very clever prestidigitateur. in the year 1895, after an unbroken silence of nine teen years, fay, ex-assistant of the davenports, de termined to resume the profession of public medium. rope-tying. !4 7 he abandoned his sheep ranch and hunted up ira davenport. they gave several performances in northern towns, and finally landed at the capital of the nation, in the spring of 1895, and advertised sev eral seances at willard's hall. a very small audi ence greeted them on their first appearance. among the committee volunteering to go on the stage and tie the mediums were the writer and mr. robinson. after the seance the prestidigitateur fully explained the modus operandi of the mystic tie, which is herein for the first time correctly given to the public. the medium holds out his left wrist first and has it tied securely, about the middle of the rope. two members of the committee are directed to pull the ends of the cord vigorously. "are you confident that the knots are securely tied?" he asks; when the com mittee respond "yes," he puts his hand quickly behind him, and places against the wrist, the wrist of his right hand, in order that they may be pinioned to gether. during this rapid movement he twists the rope about the knot on his left wrist, thereby allowing enough slack cord to disengage his right hand when necessary. to slip the right hand back into' place is an easy matter. after both hands are presumably 148 physical phenomena. tied, the medium steps into the cabinet; the ends of the rope are pushed through two holes in the chair or wooden seat, by the committee and made fast to the medium's legs. bells ring, horns blow, and the performer's hand is thrust through the win dow of the cabinet. finally a gentleman is requested to enter the cabinet with the medium. the doors are locked and a perfect pandemonium begins; when they are opened the volunteer assistant tumbles out in great trepidation. his hat is smashed over his eyes, his cravat is tied around his leg, and he is found to have on the medium's coat, while the medium wears the gentleman's coat turned inside out. it all ap pears very remarkable, but the mystery is cleared up when i state that the innocent looking gentleman is invariably a confederate, what conjurers call a plant, because he is planted in the audience to volunteer for the special act. ira and william davenport were tied in the man ner above described. often one of the brothers al lowed himself to be genuinely pinioned, after having received a preconcerted signal from his partner that all was right, i. e., the partner had been fastened by the trick tie, calling attention to the knots in the cord, rope-tying. 149 etc. the trick tie, however, is so delusive, that it is impossible to penetrate the secret in the short time allowed the committee for investigation, and there is no special reason for permitting a genuine tie-up. once in a great while, the davenports were over reached by clever committee-men and tied up so tightly that there was no getting loose. where one brother failed to execute the trick and was genuinely fastened, the other medium performed the spirit evo lutions, and cut his "confrere" loose before they came out of the cabinet. the fay-davenport revival proved a failure, and the mediums dissolved partnership in washington. kellar, the magician and former assistant of the orig inal davenport combination, by a curious coincidence was giving his fine conjuring exhibition in the city at the same time. his tricks far eclipsed the feeble re vival of the rope-tying phenomena. the fickle public crowded to see the magician and neglected the mediums. annie eva fay. one of the most famous of the materializing me diums now exhibiting in the united states is annie 150 physical phenomena. eva fay. she is quite an adept at the spirit-tying business, and like the davenports, uses a cabinet on the stage, but her method of tying, though clever, is inferior to that used by the brothers in their balmy days. in the center of the fay cabinet (a plain, cur tained affair) is a post firmly screwed to the stage. the medium permits a committee of two from the audience to tie her to this post, and seal the bandages about her wrists with court plaster. she then takes her seat upon a small stool in front of the stanchion; the musical instruments are placed on her lap, and the curtains of the cabinet closed. immediately the evi dences of spirit power begin: the bell is jingled, the tambourine thumped, and the sound of a horn heard, simultaneously. the fay method of tying is designed especially to facilitate the medium's actions. cotton bandages are used, and the committee are invited to sew the knots through and through. each wrist is tied with a bandage, about an inch and a half wide by a half yard in length; and the medium then clasps her hands be hind her, so that her wrists are about six inches apart. the committee now proceed to tie the ends of the bandages firmly together, and, after this is accom rope-tying. isi plished, the dangling pieces of the bandages are clipped off. it is true, the medium is firmly bound by this process, and it would be physically impossible for her to release herself, without disturbing the sew ing and the seals, but it is not intended for her to re lease herself at all; the method pursued being alto gether different from the old species of rope-tying. all being secure, the committee are requested to pass another bandage about the short ligature between the lady's wrists, and tie it in double square knots, and firmly secure this to a ring in the post of the cabinet, the medium being seated on a stool in front of the stanchion, facing the audience. her neck is like wise secured to the post by cotton bandages and her feet fastened together with a cord, the end of which passes out of the cabinet and is held by one of the committee. the peculiar manner of holding the hands, de scribed above, enables the medium to secure for her use, a ligature of knotted cloth between her hands, some six inches long; and the central bandage, usu ally tied in four or five double knots, gives her about two inches play between the middle of the cotton handcuffs and the ring in the post, to which it is se 152 physical phenomena. cured. the ring is two and a half inches in diam eter, and the staple which holds it to the stanchion is a half inch. the left hand of the medium gives six additional inches, and the bandage on her wrist slips readily along her slender arm nearly half way to the elbow "all of which," says john w. truesdell,* who was the first to expose miss fay's spirit pretensions, "gives the spirits a clear leeway of not less than 20 inches from the stanchion. the moment the curtain is closed, the medium, under spirit influence spreads her hands as far apart as possible, an act which stretches the knotted ligature so that the bandage about it will easily slip from the centre to either wrist ; then, throwing her lithe form by a quick movement, to the left, so that her hips will pass the stanchion without moving her feet from the floor, the spirits are able, through the medium, to reach whatever may have been placed upon her lap." one of annie eva's most convincing tests is the accordion which plays, after it has been bound fast with tapes and the tapes carefully sealed at every note, so as to prevent its being performed' on in the regular manner. her method of operating, though *the bottom facts concerning the science of spiritualism, etc., new york, 1883. rope-tying. 153 simple, is decidedly ingenious. she places a small tube in the valve-hole of the instrument, breathes and blows alternately into it, and then by fingering the keys, executes an air with excellent effect. sometimes she places a musical box on an oblong plate of glass suspended from the ceiling by four cords. the box plays and stops at word of com mand, much to the astonishment of listeners. "elec tricity," exclaims the reader! hardly so, for the box is completely insulated on the sheet of glass. then how is it done? mr. asprey vere, an investigator of spirit phenomena, tells the secret in the following words: ("modern magic"). "in the box there is placed a balance lever which when the glass is in the slightest degree tilted, arrests the fly-fan, and thus prevents the machinery from moving. at the word of command the glass is made level, and the fly-fan being released, the ma chinery moves, and a tune is played. when com manded to stop, either side of the cord is pulled by a confederate behind the scenes, the balance lever drops, the fly-fan is arrested, and the music stops." one of the tests presented to the american public by this medium is the "spirit-hand," constructed of 154 physical phenomena. painted wood or papier mache, which raps out answers to questions, after it has been isolated from all contact by being placed on a sheet of glass supported on the backs of two chairs. it is a trick performed by every conjurer, and the secret is a piece of black silk thread, worked by con federates stationed in the wings of the theatre, one at the right, the other at the left. the thread lies along the stage when not in use, but at the proper cue from the medium, it is lifted up and brought in contact with the wooden hand. the hand is so constructed that the palm lies on the glass sheet and the wrist, with a fancy lace cuff about it, is elevated an inch above the glass, the whole apparatus being so pivoted that a pressure of the thread from above will depress the wrist and elevate the palm. when the thread is relaxed the hand comes down on the glass with a thump and. makes the spirit rap which is so effective. a rapping skull made on similar principles is also in vogue among mediums. charles slade. annie eva fay has a rival in charles slade, who is a clever performer and a most convincing rope-tying. i5g talker. his cabinet test is the same as miss fay's, but he has other specialties that are worth explaining one is the "table-raising," and another is. the "spirit neck-tie." the effect of the first experiment is as fol lows: slade, with his arms bared and coat removed, requests several gentlemen to sit around a long table, reserving the head for himself. hands are placed on the table, and developments awaited. "do you feel the table raising?" asks the medium, after a short pause. "we do!" comes the response of the sitters. slade then rises; all stand up, and the table is seen suspended in the air, about a foot from the floor of the stage. in a little wfiile an uncontrollable desire seems to take possession of the table to rush about the stage. frequently the medium requests several persons to get on the table, but that has no effect whatever. the same levitation takes place. the se cret of this surprising mediumistic test is very simple. in the first place, the man who sits at the foot of the table is a confederate. both medium and confeder ate wear about their waists wide leather belts, ribbed and strengthened with steel bands, and supported from the shoulders by bands of leather and steel. in the front of each belt is a steel hinge concealed by the 156 physical phenomena. vest of the wearer. in the act of sitting down at the table the medium and his confederate quickly pull tlfe hinges which catch under the top of the table when the sitters rise. the rest of the trick is easily comprehended. when the levitation act is finished the hinges are folded up and hidden under the vests of the performers. the "spirit neck-tie" is one of the best things in the whole range of mediumistic marvels, and has never to my knowledge been exposed. a rope is tied about the medium's neck with the knots at the back and the ends are thrust through two holes in one side of the cabinet, and tied in a bow knot on the outside. the holes in the cabinet must be on a level with the medium's neck, after he is seated. the curtains of the cabinet are then closed, and the committee re quested to keep close watch on the bow-knot on the outside of the cabinet. the assistant in a short time pulls back the curtain from the cabinet on the side farthest from the medium, and reveals a sheeted fig ure which writes messages and speaks to the spe^cta tors. other materializations take place. the cur tain is drawn. at this juncture the medium is heard calling: "quick, quick, release me!" the assistant rope-tying. 157 unfastens the bow-knot, the ends of the rope are quickly drawn into the cabinet, and the medium comes forward, looking somewhat exhausted, with the rope still tied about his neck. the question re solves itself into two factors either the medium gets loose the neck-tie and impersonates the spirits or the materializations are genuine. "gets loose! but that is impossible," exclaim the committee, "we watched the cord in the closest way." the secret of this sur prising feat lies in a clever substitution. the tie is genuine, but the medium, after the curtains of the cabinet are closed, cuts the cord with a sharp knife, just about the region of the throat, and impersonates the ghosts, with the aid of various wigs and disguises concealed about him. then he takes a second cord from his pocket, ties it about his neck with the same number of knots as are in the original rope and twists the neck-tie around so that these knots will appear at the back of his neck. now, he exclaims, "quick, quick, unfasten the cord." as soon as his assistant has untied the simple bow knot on the outside of the cabinet, the medium quickly pulls the genuine rope into the cabinet and conceals it in his pocket. when he presents himself to the spectators the rope 158 charles slade s advertisement. slade will fully demonstrate the various meth ods employed by such renowned spiritual istic mediums as alex. hume, mrs. hoffmann, prof. taylor, chas. cooke, richard bishop, dr. arnold, and various others, in plain, open light. every possible means will be used to enlighten the auditor as to whether these so-called wonders are enacted through the aid of spirits or are the result of natural agencies. such phenomena. as spirit materializations, marvelous superhuman visions, spiritualistic rappings, slate writing, spirit pictures, floating tables and chairs, remarkable test of the human mind, second sight mysteries, a human being isolated from surrounding objects floating in mid=air. committees will be selected by the audience to assist slade, and to report their views as to the why and wherefore of the many strange things that will be shown during the even ing. this is done so that every person attending may learn the truth regarding the tests, whether they are genuine, or caused by expert trickery. do not class or confound slade with the numerous so called spirit mediums and spiritual exposers that travel through the country, like a set of roaming vampires, seeking whom they may devour. it is slade's object in coming to your city to enlighten the people one way or the other as to the real truth concerning these mysteries. charles slade s advertisement. 159 scientific men, and man^ great men, have believed there was a grain of essential truth in the claims of spiritualism. it was believed more on the account of the want of power to deny it than anything else. the idea that under some strained and indefinable possibilities the spirit of the mortal man may com municate with the spirit of the departed man is something that the great heart of humanity is prone to believe, as it has faith in future existence. no skeptic will deny any man's right to such a belief, but this little grain of hope has been the founda tion for such extensive and heartless mediumistic frauds that it is constantly losing ground. r nioht ojp wonderful manifestations so that all may have an insight into the world and behold many things that are strange and startling. the clergy, the press, learned synods and councils, sage philosophers and scientists, in fact, the whole world have pro claimed these philosophical idealisms to be an astounding you hrb brought face to face with the spirits. a small admission will be charged to defray expenses. 160 physical phenomena. about his neck (presumed to be the original) is found to be correctly tied and untampered with. much of the effect depends on the rapidity with which the medium conceals the original cord and comes out of the cabinet. the author has seen this trick per formed in parlors, the holes being bored in a door. charles slade makes a great parade in his ad vertisements about exposing the vulgar tricks of bogus mediums, but he says nothing about the se crets of his own pet illusions. his exposes are made for the purpose of enhancing his own mediumistic marvels. i insert a verbatim copy of the handbills with which he deluges the highways and byways of american cities and towns. pierre l. o. a. keeler. pierre keeler's fame as a producer of spirit phe nomena rests largely upon his materializing stances. it was his materializations that received the particu lar attention of the seybert commission. the late mr. henry seybert, who was an ardent believer in modern spiritualism, presented to the university of pennsylvania a sum of money to found a chair of materializations. tfi philosophy, with the proviso that the university should appoint a commission to investigate "all sys tems of morals, religion or philosophy which assume to represent the truth, and particularly of modern spiritualism." the following gentlemen were ac cordingly appointed, and began their investigations: dr. william pepper, dr. joseph leidy, dr. george a. koenig, prof. r. e. thompson, prof. george s. fuller-ton, and dr. horace h. furness. subsequent ly others were added to the commission dr. cole man sellers, dr. james w. white, dr. calvin b. kneer, and dr. s. weir mitchell. dr. pepper, pro vost of the university, was ex-officio chairman; dr. furness, acting chairman, and prof. fullerton, sec retary. keeler's materializations are thus described in the report of the commission: "on may 27 the seybert commission held a meet ing at the house of mr. furness at 8 p. m., to ex amine the phenomena occurring in the presence of mr. pierre l. o. a. keeler, a professional medium. "the medium, mr. keeler, is a young man, with well cut features, curly brown hair, a small sandy mustache, and rather worn and anxious expression; 162 physical phenomena. he is strongly built, about 5 feet 8 inches high, and with rather short, quite broad, and very muscular hands and strong wrists. the hands were examined by dr. pepper and mr. fullerton after the stance. "the stance was held in mr. furness' drawing room, and a space was curtained off by the medium in the northeast corner, thus, (fig. 25) : \ a \ c d\ g\ fig. 25. pierre kebler's cabinet seance. "the curtain is represented by a, b; c, d and e are three chairs, placed in front of the curtain by the materializations. 163 medium, in one of which (e) he afterwards sat; g de notes the position of mrs. keeler; f is a small table, placed within the curtain, and upon which was a tam bourine, a 'guitar, two bells, a hammer, a metallic ring; the stars show the positions of the spectators, who sat in a double row the two stars at the top facing the letter a indicate the positions taken by mrs. kase and col. kase, friends of mr. keeler, according to the directions of the medium. "the curtain, or rather curtains, were of black mus lin, and arranged as follows : there was a plain black curtain, which was stretched across the corner, falling to the floor. its height, when in position, was 53 inches; it was made thus: . a' . \ i if > =l ill fig. 26. pierre keelbr's cabinet curtain. "the cord which held the curtain was 1, 2, and the flaps which are represented as standing above it (a, 164 physical phenomena. b, c, etc.), fell down over al, bl, cl, etc., and could be made to cover the shoulders of one sitting with his back against the curtain. a black curtain was also pinned against the wall, in the space curtained off, partly covering it. another curtain was added to the one pictured, as will be described presently. "the medium asked col. kase to say a few words as to the necessity of observing the conditions, need of harmony, etc. and then the medium himself spoke a few words of similar import. he then drew the curtain along the cord (1, 2,) and fastened it; placed three wooden chairs in front of the curtain, as indicated in the diagram, and, saying he needed to form a battery, asked miss agnes irwin to sit in chair d, and mr. yost in chair c, the medium himself sit ting in chair e. a black curtain was then fastened by mrs. keeler over mr. keeler, miss irwin and mr. yost, being fastened at g, between e and d, between d and c, and beyond a; thus entirely covering the three sitting in front of the stretched curtain up to their necks; and when the flaps before mentioned were pulled down over their shoulders, nothing could be seen but the head of each. "before the last curtain was fastened over them, materializations. ^5 the medium placed both his hands upon the forearm and wrist of miss irwin, the sleeve being pulled up for the purpose, and miss irwin grasped with her right hand the left wrist of mr. yost, his right hand being in sight to the right of the curtain. "after some piano music the medium said he felt no power from this 'battery/ and asked mrs. e. d. gillespie to take miss irwin's place. hands and cur tains were arranged as before. the lights were turned down until the room was quite dim. during the singing the medium turned to speak to mr. yost, and his body, which had before faced rather away from the two other persons of the 'battery* (which pen sition would have brought his right arm out in front of the stretched curtain), was now turned the other way, so that had he released his grasp upon mrs. gil lespie's arm, his own right arin could have had free play in the curtained space behind him. his left knee also no longer stood out under the curtain in front, but showed a change of position. "at this time mrs. gillespie declared she felt a touch, and soon after so did mr. yost. the me dium's body was distinctly inclined toward mr. yost at this time. mrs. gillespie said she felt taps, but de 166 physical phenomena. clared that, to the best of her knowledge, she still felt the medium's two hands upon her arm. "raps indicated that the spirit, george christy, was present. as one of those present played on the piano, the tambourine was played in the curtained space and thrown over the curtain; bells were rung; the guitar was thrummed a little. at this time the medium's face was toward mrs. gillespie, and his right side toward the curtain. his body was further in against the curtain than either of the others. upon being asked, mrs. gillespie then said she thought she still felt two hands upon her arm. "the guitar was then thrust out, at least the end of it was, at the bottom of the curtain, between mrs. gil lespie and the medium. mrs. keeler drawing the curtain from over the toes of the medium's boots, to show where his feet were; the guitar was thrummed a little. had the medium's right arm been free the thrumming could have been done quite easily with one hand. afterward the guitar was elevated above the curtain; the tambourine, which was by mrs. keeler placed upon a stick held up within the inclos ure, was made to whirl by the motion of the stick. materializations. ify the phenomena occurred successively, not simultan eously. "when the guitar was held up, and when the tam bourine was made to whirl, both of these were to the right of the medium, chiefly behind mrs. gillespie; they were just where they might have been produced by the right arm of the medium, had it been free. two clothes-pins were then passed over the curtain, and they were used in drumming to piano music. they could easily be used in drumming by one hand alone, the ringers being thrust into them. the pins were afterward thrown out tiver the cur tain. mr. sellers picked one up as soon as it fell, and found it warm in the split, as though it had been worn. the drumming was probably upon the tam bourine. "a hand was seen moving rapidly with a trembling motion which prevented it from being clearly ob served above the back curtain, between mr. yost and mrs. gillespie. paper was passed over the cur tain into the cabinet and notes were soon thrown out. the notes could have been written upon the small table within the enclosure by the right hand of the medium, had it been free. mrs. keeler then passed 168 physical phenomena. a coat over the curtain, and an arm was passed through the sleeve, the fingers, with the cuff around them being shown over the curtain. they were kept moving, and a close scrutiny was not possible. "mr. furness was then invited to hold a writing tablet in front of the curtain, when the hand, almost concealed by the coat-sleeve and the flaps mentioned as attached to the curtain, wrote with a pencil on the tablet. the writing was rapid, and the hand, when not writing, was kept in constant, tremulous motion. the hand was put forth, in this case not over the top curtain, but came from under the flap, and could easily have been the medium's right hand were it dis engaged, for it was about on a level with his shoulder and to his right, between him and mrs. gillespie. mr. furness was allowed to pass his hand close to the curtain and grasp the hand for a moment. it was a right hand. "soon after the medium complained of fatigue, and the sitting was discontinued. it was declared by the spiritualists present to be a fairly successful seance. when the curtains were removed the small table in the enclosure was found to be overturned, and the bells, hammer, etc., on the floor. materializations. 169 "it is interesting to note the space within which all the manifestations occurred. they were, without exception, where they would have been had they been produced by the medium's right arm. nothing hap pened to the left of the medium, nor very far over to the right. the sphere of activity was between the medium and mr. yost, and most of the phenomena occurred, as, for example, the whirling of the tam bourine, behind mrs. gillespie. "the front curtain that is, the main curtain which hung across the corner was 85 inches in length, and the cord which supported it 53 inches from the floor. the three chairs which were placed in front of it were side by side, and it would not have been difficult for the medium to reach across and touch mr. yost. when mrs. keeler passed objects over the curtain, she invariably passed them to the right of the medium, although her position was on his left; and the clothes pins, paper, pencil, etc., were all passed over at a point where the medium's right hand could easily have reached them. "to have produced the phenomena by using his right hand the medium would have had to pass it under the curtain at his back. this curtain was not 170 physical phenomena. quite hidden by the front one at the end, near the medium, and this end both mr. sellers and dr. pep per saw rise at the beginning of the stance. the only thing worthy of consideration, as opposed to a natural explanation of the phenomena, was the grasp of the medium's hand on mrs. gillespie's arm. "the grasp was evidently a tight one above the wrist, for the arm was bruised for about four inches. there was no evidence of a similar pressure above that, as the marks on the arm extended in all about five or six inches only. the pressure was sufficient to destroy the sensibility of the forearm, and it is doubtful whether mrs. gillespie, with her arm in such a condition could distinguish between the grasp of one hand, with a divided pressure (applied by the two last fingers and the thumb and index) and a double grip by two hands. three of our number, mr. sel lers, mr. furness, and dr. white, can, with one hand, perfectly simulate the double grip. "it is specially worthy of note that mrs. gillespie declared that, when the medium first laid hold of her arms with his right hand before the curtain was put over them, it was with an undergrip, and she felt his right arm under her left. but when the medium materializations. 171 asked her if she felt both his hands upon her arm, and she said, yes, she could feel the grasp, but no arm under hers, though she moved her elbow around to find it she felt a hand, but not an arm, and at no time during the seance did she find that arm. "it should be noted that both the medium and mr. yost took off their coats before being covered with the curtain. it was suggested by dr. pepper that this might have been required by the medium as a precaution against movements on the part of mr. yost. the white shirt-sleeves would have shown against the black background." i attended a number of keeler's materializing exhi bitions in washington, d. c, in the spring of 1895, and it is my opinion that the writing of his so-called spirit messages is a simple affair, the very long and elaborate ones being written before the seance begins and the short ones by the medium during the sitting. the latter are done in a scrawling, uncertain hand, just such penmanship one would execute when blind folded. the evidence of dr. g. h. la fetra, of washington, d. c., is sufficiently convincing on this point. said dr. la fetra to me: "some years ago i went with a friend, jy 2 physical phenomena. col. edward hayes, to one of mr. keeler's light seances. it was rather early in the evening, and but few persons had assembled. upon the mantel piece of the seance-room were several tablets of paper. unobserved, i took up these tablets, one at a time, and drew the blade of my pen-knife across one end of each of them, so that i might identify the slips of paper torn therefrom by the nicks in them. in a little while, the room was filled with people, and the seance began; the gas being lowered to a dim religious light. when the time came for the writing, mr. keeler requested that some of the tablets of paper on the mantel be passed into the cabinet. this was done. various persons present received 'spirit' communications, the slips of paper being thrown over the curtain of the cabinet by a 'materialized' hand. some gentleman picked up the papers and read them, for the benefit of the spectators; afterwards he laid aside those not claimed by anybody. some of these 'spirit* com munications covered almost an entire slip. these were carefully written, some o r them in a fine hand. the short messages were roughly scrawled. after the seance, col. hayes and myself quietly pocketed a dozen or more of the slips. the next morning at my office we carefully examined them. in every instance, we found materializations. 173 that the well-written, lengthy messages were inscribed on imnicked slips, the short ones being written on nicked slips." to me, this evidence of dr. la fetra seems mostcom clusive, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that kee ler prepared his long communications before the seance and had them concealed upon his person, throwing them out of the cabinet at the proper moment. he used the nicked tablets for his short messages, written on the spot, thereby completely revealing his method of operating to the ingenious investigator. the late dr. leonard caughey, of baltimore, maryland, an intimate friend of the writer, made a specialty of anti-spiritualistic tricks, and among others performed this cabinet test of keeler's. he bought the secret from a broken-down medium for a few dollars, and added to it certain effects of his own, that far surpassed any of keeler's. the writer has seen dr. caughey give the tests, and create the ut most astonishment. his improvement on the trick consisted in the use of a spring clasp like those used by gentlemen bicycle riders to keep their trousers in at the ankles. one end terminated in a soft rubber or chamois skin tip, shaped like a thumb, the other 174 physical phenomena. end had four representations of fingers. two wire rings were soldered on the back of the clasp. this apparatus he had concealed under his vest. before the curtain of the cabinet was drawn, dr. caughey grasped the arm of the lady on his right in the fol lowing manner: the thumb of his left hand under her wrist, the fingers extended above it; the thumb of his right hand restin^ on the thumb of the left, the fingers lightly resting on the fingers of the left hand. as soon as the curtain was fastened he extended the fourth and in dex fingers of the left hand to the fullest extent and press ed hard upon the lady's arm, relaxing at the same time the pressure of his second and third fingers. this movement exactly simulates the grasp of two hands, and enables the medium to take away his right hand altogether. dr. caughey then took his spring clasp, opened it by inserting his thumb and first finger in the soldered rings above mentioned, and lightly fas tened it on the lady's arm near the wrist, relaxing the pressure of the first and fourth fingers of the left hand at the same moment. "i will slide my right hand along your arm, and grasp you near the elbow. it will relieve the pressure about your wrist; besides be more convincing to you that there is no' trickery." materializations. 175 so saying, he quickly slid the apparatus along her arm, and left it in the position spoken of. this pro duces a perfect illusion, the clasp with its trick thumb and fingers working to perfection. this apparatus may also be used in the following manner : roll up your sleeves and exhibit your hands to the sitter. tell him you are going to stand behind him and grasp his arms firmly near the shoulders. take your position immediately under the gas jet. ask him to please lower the light. produce the trick clasps, distend them by means of your thumbs and fingers, and after the gas is lowered, grasp the sitter in the manner described. remove your fingers and thumbs lightly from the clasps and perform various mediumistic evolutions, such as writing a message on a pad or slate placed on the sitter's head; strike him gently on his cheek with a damp glove, etc. when the seance is over, insert your fingers and thumbs in the soldered rings, remove the clasps and conceal them quickly. eusapia paladino, the materializing medium who has caused the greatest sensation since home's death is eusapia 176 physical phenomena. paladino, an italian peasant woman. signor da miani, of florence, italy, discovered her alleged psy chical powers in 1875, and brought her into notice. an italian count was so impressed with the manifes tations witnessed in the presence of the illiterate peas fig. 27. eusapia paladino. ant woman, that he insisted upon "a commission of scientific men being called to investigate them." in the year 1884, this commission held seances with eu sapia, and afterwards declared that the phenomena materializations. 177 178 physical phenomena. witnessed were inexplicable, and unquestionably the result of forces transcending ordinary experience. in the year 1892 another commission was formed in milan to test eusapia's powers as a medium, and from this period her fame dates, as the most remarkable psychic of modern times. the report drawn up by this commission was signed by giovanni schiaparelli, director of the astronomical observatory, milan; carl du prel, doctor of philosophy, munich; angelo brof ferio, professor of physics in the royal school of agriculture, portici; g. b. ermacora, doctor of physics; giorgio finzi, doctor of physics. at some of the sittings were present charles richet and the famous cesare lombroso. the conclusion arrived at by these gentlemen was that eusa pia's mediumistic phenomena were most worthy of scientific attention, and were unfathomable. the me dium reaped the benefit of this notoriety, and gave sittings to hundreds of investigators among the ital ian nobility, charging as high as $500 for a single stance. at last she was exposed by a clever ameri can, dr. richard hodgson, of boston, secretary of the american branch of the society for psychical re search. his account of the affair, communicated to materializations. 179 the new york herald, jan. 10, 1897, is very inter esting. speaking of the report of the milan commis sion, he says: "their report confessed to seeing and hearing many strange things, although they believed they had the hands and feet of the psychic so closely held that she could have had nothing to do with the manifesta tions. "chairs were moved, bells were rung, imprints of fingers were made on smoked paper and soft clay, ap paritions of hands appeared on slightly luminous backgrounds, the chair of the medium and the me dium herself were lifted to the table, the sound of trumpets, the contact of a seemingly human face, the touch of human hands, warm and moist, all were felt "most of these phenomena were repeated, and the members of the commission were, with two excep tions, satisfied that no known power could have pro duced them. professor richet did not sign the re port, but induced signora eusapia to go to an island he owned in the mediterranean, where other exacting tests were made under other scientific eyes. the in vestigators all agreed that the demonstrations could not be accounted for by ordinary forces. l8o physical phenomena. "i have found in my experience that learned scien tific men are the most easily duped of any in the world. instead of having a cold, inert piece of matter to investigate by exact processes and microscopic in spections, they had a clever, bright woman doing her best to mystify them. they could not cope with her. "professor richet replied to an article i wrote, up holding his position, and brought signoraeusapiapala dino to cambridge, england, where i joined the investi gating committee. in the party were professor lodge, of liverpool; professor f. m. c. meyer, sec retary of the british society for psychical research; professor richet and mr. henry sedgwick, president of the society. "i found that the psychic, though giving a great variety of events, confined them to a very limited scope. she was seated during the tests at the end of a rectangular table and when the table was lifted it rose up directly at the other end. it was always so arranged that she was in the dark, even if the rest of the table was in the light; in the so-called light stances it was not light, the lamp being placed in an adjoining room. there were touches, punches and blows given, minor objects moved, some near and materializations. 181 some further away; the outline of faces and hands ap peared, etc. "when i came to hold her hands i found a key to the mystery. "it was chiefly that she made one hand and one foot do the work of both, by adroit substitution. given a free hand and a free foot, and nearly all the phenomena can be explained. she has very strong, supple hands, with deft ringers and great coolness and intelligence. "this is the way she substituted one hand for both. she placed one of her hands over a's hand and the other under b's hand. then, in the movements of the arms during the manifestation, she worked her hands toward each other until they rested one upon the other, with a's hand at the bottom of the pile, b's at the top and both her own, one upon the other, be tween. to draw out one hand and leave one and yet have the investigators feel that they still had a hand was easy. "with this hand free and in darkness there were great possibilities. there were strings, also, as i be lieve, which were attached to different objects and moved them. the dim outlines of faces and hands 182 physical phenomena. seen were clever representations of the medium's own free hand in various shapes. "it is thought that if a medium was kept clapping her hands she could do nothing with them, but one of the investigators found the signora slapping her face with one hand, producing just the same sound as if her hands met, while the other hand was free to produce mysterious phenomena. "i have tried the experiment of shifting hands when those who held them knew they were going to be tricked, and yet they did not discover when i made the exchange. i am thoroughly satisfied that sig nora eusapia paladino is a clever trickster." eusapia paladino was by no means disconcerted by dr. hodgson's expos, but continued giving her seances. at the present writing she is continuing them in france with a number of new illusions. many who have had sittings with her declare that she is able to move heavy objects without contact. possibly this is due to jugglery, or it may be due to some psychic force as yet not understood. f. w. tabor. mr. f. w. tabor is a materializing medium whose materializations. ^3 specialty is the trumpet test for the production of spirit voices. i had a sitting with him at the house of mr. x, of washington, d. c, on the night of jan. 10, 1897. seven persons, including the medium, sat around an ordinary-sized table in mr. x 's drawing room, and formed a chain of hands, in the following manner: each person placed his or her hands on the table with the thumbs crossed, and the little fin gers of each hand touching the little fingers of the sit ters on the right and left. a musical box was set go ing and the light was turned out by mr. x , who broke the circle for that purpose, but immediately re sumed his old position at the table. a large speak ing trumpet of tin about three feet long had been placed upright in the center of the table, and near it was a pad of paper, and pencils. we waited patiently for some little time, the monotony being relieved by operatic airs from the music box, and the singing of hymns by the sitters. there were convulsive twitch ings of the hands and feet of the medium, who com plained of tingling sensations in those members. the first "phenomena" produced were balls of light danc ing like will-o'-the-wisps over the table, and the ma terialization of a luminous spirit hand. taps upon the 184 physical phenomena. table signalled the arrival of mr. tabor's spirit con trol, "]im," a little newsboy, of san francisco, who was run over some years ago by a street car. the medium was the first person who picked up the wounded waif and endeavored to administer to him, but without avail. "jim" died soon after, and his dis embodied spirit became the medium's control. soon the trumpet arose from the table and floated over the heads of the sitters, and the voice of "jim" was heard, sepulchral and awe-inspiring, through the instrument. subsequently, messages of an impersonal character were communicated to mr. x and his wife. at one time the trumpet was heard knocking against the chandelier. during the s ance several of the ladies experienced the clasp of a ghostly hand about their wrists, and considerable excitement was occasioned thereby. it is not a difficult matter to explain this trumpet test. it hinges on one fact, freedom of the medium's right hand! in all of these holding tests, the medium employs a subterfuge to release his hands without the knowledge of the sitter on his right. during his con vulsive twitchings, he quickly jerks his right hand away, but immediately extends the fingers of his left materializations. 185 hand, and connects the index fingers with the little finger of the sitter's left hand, thereby completing the chain, or "battery," as it is technically called. were the medium to use his thumb in making the connec tion the secret would be revealed, but the index finger of his left hand sufficiently simulates a little finger, and in the darkness the sitter is deceived. the right hand once released, the medium manipulates the trumpet and the phosphorescent spirit hands to> his heart's con tent. sometimes he utilizes the telescopic rod, or a pair of steel "crazy tongs," to elevate the trumpet to the ceil ing. this holding test is absurdly simple and perhaps for that reason is so convincing. mr. tabor has another method of holding which is far more deceptive than the above. i am indebted to the "revelations of a spirit medium" for an explanation of this test. "the investigators are seated in a circle around the table, male and female alternating. the person sitting on the medium's right 'for he sits in the circle grasps the medium's right wrist in his left hand, while his own right wrist is held by the sitter on his right and this is repeated clear around the circle. this makes each sitter hold the right wrist of his left hand neighbor in his left hand, while his own right 186 physical phenomena. hand wrist is held in the left hand of his neighbor on the left. each one's hands are thus secured and en gaged, including the medium's. it will be seen that no one of the sitters can have the use of his or her hands without one or the other of their neighbors knowing it. as each hand was held by a separate per son, you cannot understand how he [the medium] could get the use of either of them except the one on his right was a confederate. such was not the case, and still he did have the use of one hand, the right one. but how? he took his place before the light was turned down, and those holding him say he did not let go for an instant during the stance. he did though, after the light was turned out for the purpose of getting his handkerchief to blow his nose. after blowing his nose he requested the sitter to again take his wrist, which is done, but this time it is the wrist of the left hand instead of the right. he has crossed his legs and there is but one knee to be felt, hence the sitter on the right does not feel that she is reaching across the right knee and thinks it is the left knee which she does feel to be: the right. he has let his hand slip down until instead of holding the sitter on his left by the wrist he has him by the ringers, thus allowing him materializations. 187 a little more distance, and preventing the left hand sitter using the hand to feel about and discover the right hand sitter's hand on the wrist of the hand hold ing his. you will see, now, that although both sitters are holding the same hand each one thinks he is hold ing the one on his or her side of the medium. the balance of the seance is easy." an amusing incident happened during my sitting with mr.tabor. growing somewhat weary waiting for him to "manifest," i determined to undertake some materializations on my own account. i adopted the subterfuge of getting my right hand loose from the lady on my right, and produced the spirit hand that clasped the wrist of several of the sitters in the circle. mr. x asked "jim" if everything was all right in the circle, every hand promptly joined, and the mag netic conditions perfect. "jim" responded with three affirmative taps on the table top. i congratulate my self on having deceived "jim," a spirit operating in the fourth dimension of space, and supposedly cogni zant of all that was transpiring at the seance. once, when the medium was floating the trumpet over my head, i grasped the instrument and dashed it on the table. he made no further attempt to manipulate the 188 physical phenomena. trumpet in my direction, and very shortly brought the seance to a close. no written communications were received during the evening. 4. spirit photography. you may deceive the human eye, say the advocates of spirit materializations, but you cannot deceive the eye of science, the photographic camera. then they triumphantly produce the spirit photograph as in dubitable evidence of the reality of ghostly materiali zations. "spirit photography," says the late alex andre herrmann, in an article on magic, published in the cosmopolitan magazine, "was the invention of a man in london, and for ten years spiritualists ac cepted the pictures as genuine representations of orig inals in the spirit land. the snap kodak has super seded the necessity of the explanation of spirit pho tography." to be more explicit, there are two ways of produc ing spirit photographs, by double printing and by double exposure. in the first, the scene is printed from one negative, and the spirit printed in from another. in the second method, the group with the friendly spook in proper position is arranged, and the lens of spirit photography. 189 the camera uncovered, half of the required exposure being given; then the lens is capped, and the person doing duty as the sheeted ghost gets out of sight, and the exposure is completed. the result is very effect ive when the picture is printed, the real persons being represented sharp and well defined, while the ghost is but a hazy outline, transparent, through which the background shows. every one interested in psychic phenomena who makes a pilgrimage to the capital of the nation visits the house of dr. theodore hansmann. for ten years dr. hansmann has been an ardent student of spirit ualism, and has had sittings with many celebrated me diums. the walls of his office are literally covered with spirit pictures of famous people of history, exe cuted by spirits under supposed test conditions. there are drawings in color by raphael, michel an gelo, and others. in one corner of the room is a book-case filled with slates, upon the surfaces of which are messages from the famous dead, attested by their signatures. in the fall of 1895, a correspondent of the new york herald interviewed doctor hansmann on the subject of spirit photographs, and subsequently visited i$0 physical phenomena. the united states bureau of ethnology, where an in terview was had with mr. dinwiddie, an expert pho tographer. here is the substance of this scond in terview, published in the herald, nov. 9, 1895. "dr. hansmann's collection of 'spirit' photographs is most interesting. there is one with the face of the empress josephine, and on the same plate is the head of professor darius lyman, for a long time chief of the bureau of navigation. the head of the empress josephine has a diadem around it, and the lights and shadows remind one of the well known portrait of her. on another plate are grant and lincoln, * among his other photographs dr. hansmann brought out one of a man who was described to me as an indian agent. around his head were eleven smaller 'spirit' heads of indians. in looking at the blue print closely it seemed to me as if i had seen those identical heads the same as to light, shade and posing somewhere before. "i was aided at the bureau of ethnology of the smithsonian institution by mr. f. webb hodge, the acting director, who on looking at the blue print named the indians directly; several of the pictures were of indians still alive. this, of course, imme ii spirit photography. 193 diately disposed of the idea of the blue print indians being spirits. "moreover, mr. dinwiddie produced the negatives containing the identical portraits of these indians and made me several proofs, which on a comparison, feat ure by feature, light for light, and shade for shade, show unquestionably that the faces on the blue print are copies of the portraits made by the photographer of the bureau of ethnology. "mr. dinwiddie asked me to sit down for awhile, and offered to make me some spirit photographs. this he did, and the results obtained may be consid ered as far better examples of the art of 'spirit' pho tography than those of the medium, keeler. "the matter was very simply done. mr. dinwiddie asked one of the ladies from the office to come in, and, she consented to pose as a spirit. she was placed be fore the camera at a distance of about six feet, a red background was given her, so .that it might photo graph dark, and she was asked to put on a saintly ex pression. this she did, and mr. dinwiddie gave the plate a half-second exposure. another head was taken on the other side of the plate in much the same manner. after this was done the other or central 194 physical phenomena. photograph was taken with an exposure of four sec onds, the plate being rather sensitive. 'the plate was then taken to the dark room and developed. the negative came out very well at first, and the halo was put on afterward, when the plate had been dried. the halo was made by rubbing vignet ting paste on the back, thus shutting out the light and leaving the paper its original hue. the white shad owy heads which are frequently shown in black coats, and which the mediums claim cannot be explained, are also done in this manner with vignetting paste, the picture being afterward centred over these places, which will be white, the final result showing soft and indefinite, and giving the required spiritual look. "mr. dinwiddie did not attempt to produce the hazy effect, but this is very easily accomplished in the pho tograph by taking the spirit heads a trifle out of focus. he claims that all of these apparent spiritual manifes tations are but tricks of photography, and ones which might be accomplished by the veriest tyro, if he were to study the matter, and give his time to the experi ment. it is only a wonder that the mediums do not do more of it. "the photograph mediums have always claimed fig. 30 spirit photograph by pretended medium. spirit photography. 197 that they were set upon by photographers for busi ness reasons, but mr. dinwiddie is employed by the government and has no interests whatever in such a dispute." the eminent authority on photography, mr. walter e. woodbury, gives many interesting exposes of me diumistic photographs in his work, "photographic amusements," which the student of the subject would do well to consult. fig. 30, taken from "photographic amuseatents" is a reproduction of a "spirit" photograph made by a photographer claiming to be a medium. says mr. woodbury: "fortunately, however, we were in this case able to expose the fraud. mr. w. m. murray, a prominent member of the society of amateur photo graphers of new york, called our attention to the simi larity between one of the 'spirit' images and a portrait painting by sichel, the artist. a reproduction of the picture (fig 31) is given herewith, and it will be seen at once that the 'spirit' image is copied from it." 5. thought photography. during the year 1896 considerable stir was created by the investigation of dr. hippolyte baraduc, of paris, in the line of "thought photography," which 198 physical phenomena. is of interest to psychic investigators generally. dr. baraduc claimed to have gotten photographic im pressions of his thoughts, "made without sunlight or electricity or contact of any material kind." these impressions he declared to be subjective, being his own personal vibrations, the result of a force emanat ing from the human personality, supra-mechanical, or spiritual. the experiments were carried on in a dark room, and according to his statement were highly suc cessful. in a communication to an american corre spondent, printed in the new york herald, janu ary 3, 1897, he writes: "i have discovered a human, invisible light, differing altogether from the cathode rays discovered by prof. roentgen." dr. baraduc advanced the theory that our souls must be considered as centers of luminous forces, owing their existence partly to the attraction and partly to the repulsion of special and potent forces bred of the invisible cosmos." a number of french scientific journals took up the matter, and discussed "thought photography" at length, publishing numerous reproductions of the physician's photographs; but the more conservative journals of england, germany and america remained silent on the subject, as it seemed to be on the border fig. 31 sigel's original picture of fig 30. thought photography. 201 land betweenscience and charlatanry. on january 11, 1897, the american newspapers contained an item to the effect that drs. s. millington miller and carle ton simon, of new york city, the former a specialist in brain physiology, and the latter an expert hypno tist, had succeeded in obtaining successful thought photographs on dry plates from two hypnotized sub jects. when the subjects were not hypnotized, the physicians reported no results. as 'thought photography" is without the pale of known physical laws, stronger evidence is needed to support the claims made for it than that which has been adduced by the french and american investiga tors. "thought photography" once established as a scientific fact, we shall have, perhaps, an explanation of genuine spirit photographs, if such there be. 6* apparitions of the dead. in my chapter on subjective phenomena, i have not recorded any cases of phantasms of the dead, though several interesting examples of such have come under my notice. i have thought it better to refer the reader to the voluminous repoits of the society for psychical research (england). in regard to these 202 physical phenomena. cases, the society has reached the following conclu sion: between deaths and apparitions of dying persons a connection exists which is not due to chance alone. this we hold as a proved fact. the "literary digest" january 12, 1895, in review ing this report, says: "inquiries were instituted in 17,000 cases of alleged apparitions. these inquiries elicited 1,249 replies from persons [in england and wales] who affirmed that they themselves had seen the apparitions. then the society by further inquiries and cross-examinations sifted out all but eighty of these as discredited in some way, by error of memory or illusions of identity, or for some other reason, or which could be accounted for by common psychical laws. of these eighty, fifty more were thrown out, to be on the safe side, and the remaining thirty are used as a basis for scientific consideration. all these con sisted of apparitions of dead persons appearing to others within twelve hours after death, and many of them appearing at the very hour and even the very minute of death. the full account of the investigation is published in the tenth volume of the society's reports, under the title, 'a census of hallucinations/ and prof. j. h. hyslop, of columbia college, wrote an article apparitions of the dead. 203 giving the gist of the report and his comments in the 'independent' (december 27, 1895), from which i cull these few notable paragraphs: ' the committee which conducted the research rea sons as follows: since the death rate of england is 19.15 out of every thousand, the chances of any per son's dying on any particular day are one in 19,000 (the ratio of 19.15 to 365 times 1,000). out of 19,000 death apparitions, therefore, one can be explained as a simple coincidence. but thirty apparitions out of 1,300 cases is in the proportion of 440 out of 19,000, so that to refer these thirty well-authenticated appari tions to coincidence is deemed impossible.' "and further on: " 'this is remarkable language for the signatures oi prof, and mrs. sidgwick, than whom few harder headed skeptics could be found. it is more than borne out, however, by a consideration which the com mittee does not mention, but which the facts entirely justify, and it is that since many of the apparitions oc curred not merely on the day, but at the very hour or minute of death, the improbability of their explana tion by chance is really much greater than the figures here given. that the apparition should occur within 204 physical phenomena. the hour of death the chance should be 1 to 356,000, or at the minute of death 1 to 21,360,000. to get 30 cases, therefore, brought down to these limits we should have to collect thirty times these numbers of apparitions. either these statistics are of no value in a study of this kind, or the society's claim is made out that there is either a telepathic communication be tween the dying and those who see their apparitions, or some causal connection not yet defined or deter mined by science. that this connection may be due to favorable conditions in the subject of the hallucina tion is admitted by the committee, if the person hav ing the apparition is suffering from grief or anxiety about the person concerned. but it has two replies to such a criticism. the first is the query how and why under the circumstances does this effect coincide generally with the death of the person concerned, when anxiety is extended over a considerable period. the second is a still more triumphant reply, and it is that a large number of the cases show that the subject of the apparition has no knowledge of the dying per son's sickness, place, or condition. in that case there is no alternative to searching elsewhere for the cause. if telepathy or thought transference will not explain apparitions of the dead. 205 the connection, resort must be had to some most ex traordinary hypothesis. most persons will probably accept telepathy as the easiest way out of the diffi culty, though i am not sure that we are limited to this, the easiest explanation.' "professor hyslop then proceeds to consider the ef fect of the committee's conclusion upon existing the ories and speculations regarding the relations between mind and matter, and foresees with gratification as well as apprehension the revolt likely to be initiated against materialism and which may go so far as to discredit science and carry us far back to the credulous conditions of the middle ages. he says: " 'the point which the investigations of the society for psychical research have already reached creates a question of transcendent interest, no matter what the solution of it may be, and will stimulate in the near future an amount of psychological and theological speculation of the most hasty and crude sort, which it will require the profoundest knowledge of % mental phenomena, normal and abnormal, and the best meth ods of science to counteract, and to keep within the limits of sober reason. the hardly won conquests of intellectual freedom and self-control can easily be 206 physical phenomena. overthrown by a reaction that will know no bounds and which it will be impossible to regulate. though there may be some moral gain from the change of be liefs, as will no doubt be the case in the long run, we have too recently escaped the intellectual, religious, and political tyranny of the middle ages to contem plate the immediate consequences of the reaction with any complacency. but no one can calculate the enor mous effect upon intellectual, social, and political con ditions which would ensure upon the reconciliation of science and religion by the proof of immortality." iv. conclusions. in my investigations of the physical phenomena of modern spiritualism, i have come to the following conclusion: while the majority of mediumistic man ifestations are due to conjuring, there is a class of cases not ascribable to trickery, namely, those coming within the domain of psychic force as exemplified by the experiments of gasparin, crookes, lodge, asakoff and coues. in regard to the subjective phenomena, i am convinced that the recently annunciated law of telepathy will account for them. / discredit the theory of spirit intervention. if this be a correct conclusion, is there anything in mediumistic phenomena that will contribute to the solution of the problem of the im mortality of the soul? i think there is. the existence of a subjective or subliminal consciousness in man, as illustrated in the phenomena mentioned, seems to indi cate that the human personality is really a spiritual entity, possessed of unknown resources, and capable of preserving its identity despite the shock of time and the grave. hudson says: "it is clear that the power 207 2o8 physical phenomena. of telepathy has nothing in common with objective methods of communications between mind and mind; and that it is not the product of muscle or nerve or any physiological combination whatever, but rather sets these at naught, with their implications of space and time. . . . when disease seizes the physical frame and the body grows feeble, the objective mind invar iably grows correspondingly weak. ... in the meantime, as the objective mind ceases to perform its functions, the subjective mind is most active and pow erful. the individual may never before have exhib ited any psychic power, and may never have con sciously produced any psychic phenomena; yet at the supreme moment his soul is in active communication with loved ones at a distance, and the death message is often, when psychic conditions are favorable, con sciously received. the records of telepathy demon trate this proposition. nay, more; they may be cited to show that in the hour of death the soul is capable of projecting a phantasm of such strength and objec tivity that it may be an object of personal experience to those for whom it is intended. moreover, it has happened that telepathic messages have been sent by the dying, at the moment of dissolution, giving all the conclusions. 209 particulars of the tragedy, when the death was caused by an unexpected blow which crushed the skull of the victim. it is obvious that in such cases it is impos sible that the objective mind could have participated in the transaction. the evidence is indeed over whelming, that, no matter what form death may as sume, whether caused by lingering disease, old age, or violence, the subjective mind is never weakened by its approach or its presence. on the other hand, that the objective mind weakens with the body and per ishes with the brain, is a fact confirmed by every-day observation and universal experience." this hypothesis of the objective and subjective minds has been criticised by many psychologists on the ground of its extreme dualism. no such dual ism exists, they contend. however, hudson's the ory is only a working hypothesis at best, to> explain certain extraordinary facts in human experience. future investigators may be able to throw more light on the subject. but this one thing may be enun ciated: telepathy is an incontrovertible fact, account for it as you may, a physical force or a spiritual en ergy. if physical, then it does not follow any of the known operations of physical laws as established by 210 physical phenomena. modern science, especially in the case of transmission of thought at a distance. it is true, that all evidence in support of telepathic communications is more or less ex parte in character, and does not possess that validity which orthodox science requires of investigators. any student of the physical laws of matter can make investigations for himself, and at any time, provided he has the proper apparatus. explain to a person that water is com posed of two gases, oxygen and hydrogen, and he can easily verify the fact for himself by combining the gases, in the combination of h 2 o, and afterwards lib erate them by a current of electricity. but experi ments in telepathy and clairvoyance cannot be made at will; they are isolated in character, and consequently are regarded with suspicion by orthodox science. besides this, they transcend the materialistic theories of science as regards the universe, and one is almost compelled to use the old metaphysical terms of mind and matter, body and soul, in describing the phe nomena. it is an undoubted fact that science has broken away from the old theory regarding the distinction between mind and matter. says prof. wm. romaine newbold, conclusions. 211 "in the scientific world it has fallen into such disfavor that in many circles it is almost as disgraceful to avow belief in it as in witchcraft or ghosts." we have today a school of "physiological-psychology," calling itself "psychology without a soul." this school is devoted to the laboratory method of studying mind. "the laboratory method," says roark, in his "psychology in education," "is concerned mostly with physiological psychology, which is, after all, only physiology, even though it be the physiology of the nervous system and the special organs of sense the material tools of the mind. and after physiological psychology has had its rather prolix say, causal connection of the physical organs with psychic action is as obscure and impos sible of explanation as ever. but the laboratory method can be of excellent service in determining the material conditions of mental action, in detecting spe cial deficiencies and weaknesses, and in accumulating valuable statistics along these lines. "it has been asserted that no science can claim to be exact until it can be reduced to formulas of weights and measures. the assertion begs the question for the materialists. we shall probably never be able to weigh an idea or measure the cubic contents of the 212 physical phenomena. memory ; but the rapidity with which ideas are formed or reproduced by memory has been measured in many particular instances, and the circumstances that retard or accelerate their formation or reproduction have been positively ascertained and classified." that it is possible to explain all mental phenomena in terms of physics is by no means the unanimous ver dict of scientific men. a small group of students of late years have detached themselves from the purely materialistic school and broken ground in the region of the supernormal says professor newbold (pop ular science monthly, january, 1897): "in the su pernormal field, the facts already reported, should they be substantiated by further inquiry, would go far to wards showing that consciousness is an entity governed by laws and possessed of powers incapable of expres sion in material conceptions. "i do not myself regard the theory of independence [of mind and body] as proved, but i think we have enough evidence for it to destroy in any candid mind that considers it that absolute credulity as to its possi bility which at present characterizes the average man of science." part second. madame blavatsky and the theo sophists, 1. the priestess* the greatest "fantaisiste" of modern tinus was ma dame blavatsky, spirit medium, priestess of isis, and founder of the theosophical society. her life is one long catalogue of wonders. in appearance she was enormously fat, had a harsh, disagreeable voice, and a violent temper, dressed in a slovenly manner, usually in loose wrappers, smoked cigarettes incessantly, and cared little or nothing for the conventionalities of life. but in spite of all unprepossessing appearance and gross habits she exercised a powerful personal mag netism over those who came in contact with her. she was the sphinx of the second half of this century; a pythoness in tinsel robes who strutted across the world's stage "full of sound and fury/' and disappeared from view behind the dark veil of isis, which she, 213 214 madame blavatsky. the fin-de-siecle prophetess, tried to draw aside during her earthly career. in searching for facts concerning the life of this really remarkable woman remarkable for the influ ence she has exerted upon the thought of this latter end of the nineteenth century i have read all that has been written about her by prominent theosophists, have talked with many who knew her intimately, and now endeavor to present the truth concerning her and her career. the leading work on the subject is "incidents in the life of madame blavatsky/' com piled from information supplied by her relatives and friends, and edited by a. p. sinnett, author of "the occult world." the frontispiece to the book is a re production of a portrait of madame blavatsky, painted by h. schmiechen, and represents the lady seated on the steps of an ancient ruin, holding a parchment in her hand. she is garbed somewhat after the fashion of a cumaean sibyl and gazes straight before her with the deep unfathomable eyes of a mystic, as if she were reading the profound riddles of the ages, and behold ing the sands of time falling hot and swift into the glass of eternity "and all things creeping to a day of doom." fig. 32 madame blavatsky. the 1 riestess. 217 sinnett's life of the high priestess is a strange con coction of monstrous absurdities ; it is full of the weird est happenings that were ever vouchsafed to mortal. we cannot put much faith in this biography, and must delve in other mines for information; but some of the remarkable passages of the book are worth perusing, particularly if the reader be prone to midnight mus ings of a ghostly character. helena petrovna blavatsky, the daughter of col. peter hahn of the russian army, and granddaughter of general alexis hahn von rottenstern hahn (a noble family of mecklenburg, germany, settled in russia), was born in eskaterinoslaw, in the south of russia, in 1831. "she had," says sinnett, "a strange childhood, replete with abnormal oc currences. the year of her birth was fatal for russia, as for all europe, owing to the first visit of the cholera, that terrible plague that decimated from 1830 to 1832 in turn nearly every town of the continent her birth was quickened by several deaths in the house, and she was ushered into the world amid coffins and desolation, on the night be tween july 30th and 31st, weak and apparently no den izen of this world." a hurried baptism was given lest 2l8 madame blavatsky. the child die in original sin, and the ceremony was that of the greek church. during the orthodox baptismal rite no person is allowed to sit, but a child aunt of the baby, tired of standing for nearly an hour, settled down upon the floor, just behind the officiating priest. no one perceived her, as she sat nodding drowsily. the ceremony was nearing its close. the sponsors were just in the act of renouncing the evil one and his deeds, a renunciation emphasized in the greek church by thrice spitting upon the invisible enemy, when the little lady, toying with her lighted taper at the feet of the crowd, inadvertantly set fire to the long flowing robes of the priest, no one remarking the ac cident till it was too late. the result was an imme diate conflagration, during which several persons chiefly the old priest were sever ly ' urnt. that was another bad omen, according to the superstitious be liefs of orthodox russia; and the innocent cause of it, the future madame blavatsky, was doomed from that day, in the eyes of all the town, to an eve itful, troubled life. "mile. hahn was born, of course, with all the char acteristics of what is known in spiritualism as medium ship in the most extraordinary degree, also with gifts the priestess. 219 as a clairvoyant of an almost equally unexampled or der. on various occasions while apparently in an ordinary sleep, she would answer questions, put by persons who took hold of her hand, about lost property, etc., as though she were a sibyl entranced. for years she would, in childish impulse, shock strangers with whom she came in contact, and visitors to the house, by looking them intently in the face and telling them they would die at such and such a time, or she would prophesy to them some accident or mis fortune that would befall them. and since her prog nostications usually came true, she was the terror, in this respect, of the domestic circle." madame v. p. jelihowsy, a sister of the seeress, has furnished to the world many extraordinary stories of mme. blavatsky's childhood, published in various russian periodicals. at the age of eleven the sibyl lost her mother, and went to live with her grandpa rents at saratow, her grandfather being civil governor of the place. the family mansion was a lumbering old country place "full of subterraneous galleries, long abandoned passages, turrets, and most weird nooks and corners. it looked more like a mediaeval ruined castle than a building of the last century." the ghosts of 22o madame blavatsky. martyred serfs were supposed to haunt the uncanny building, and strange legends were told by the old family servants of weir-wolves and goblins that prowled about the dark forests of the estate. here, in this house of usher, the sibyl lived and dreamed, and at this period exhibited many abnormal psychic pe culiarities, ascribed by her orthodox governess and nurses of the greek church to possession by the devil. she had at times ungovernable fits of temper; she would ride any cossack horse on the place astride a man's saddle ; go into trances and scare everyone from the master of the mansion down to the humblest vodka drinker on the estate. in 1848, at the age of 17, she married general count blavatsky, a gouty old russian of 70, whom she called "the plumed raven," but left him after a brief period of marital infelicity. from this time dates her career as a thaumaturgist. she travelled through india and made an honest attempt to penetrate into the mysterious confines of thibet, but succeeded in getting only a few miles from the frontier, owing to the fanaticism of the natives. in india, as elsewhere, she was accused of being a russian spy and was generally regarded with suspi pig. 33 mahatma letter. the priestess. 223 cion by the police authorities. after some months of erratic wanderings she reappeared in russia, this time in tiflis, at the residence of a relative, prince . it was a gloomy, grewsome chateau, well suited for spiritualistic stances, and madame blavatsky, it is claimed, frightened the guests during the long winter evenings with table-tippings, spirit rappings, etc. it was then the tall candles in the drawing-room burnt low, the gobelin tapestry rustled, sighs were heard, strange music "resounded in the air," and luminous forms were seen trailing their ghostly garments across the "tufted flooi." the gossipy madame de jelihowsy, in her reminis cences, classifies the phenomena, witnessed in the pres ence of her sibylline sister, as follows : 1. direct and perfectly clearly written and verbal answers to mental questions or "thought reading." 2. private secrets, unknown to all but the inter ested party, divulged, [especially in the case of those persons who mentioned insulting doubts]. 3. change of weight in furniture and persons at will. 4. letters from unknown correspondents, and im mediate answers written to queries made, and found in the most out-of-the-way mysterious places. 224 madame blavatsky. 5. appearance of objects unclaimed by anyone present. 6. sounds of musical notes in the air wherever madame blavatsky desired they should resound. in the year 1858, the high priestess was at the house of general yakontoff at pskoff, russia. one night when the drawing-room was full of visitors, she began to describe the mediumistic feat of making light objects heavy and heavy objects light. "can you perform such a miracle?" ironically asked her brother, leonide de hahn, who always doubted his sister's occult powers. "i can," was the firm reply. de hahn went to a small chess table, lifted it as though it were a feather, and said: "suppose you try your powers on this." "with pleasure!" replied mme. blavatsky. "place the table on the floor, and step aside for a minute." he complied with her request. she fixed her large blue eyes intently upon the chess table and said without removing her gaze, "lift it now." the young man exerted all his strength, but the the priestess. 227 table would not budge an inch. another guest tried with the same result, but the wood only cracked, yield ing to no effort. "now, lift it," said madame blavatsky calmly, whereupon de hahn picked it up with the greatest ease. loud applause greeted this extraordinary feat, and the skeptical brother, so say the occultists, was ut terly nonplussed. madame blavatsky, as recorded by sinnett, stated afterwards that the above phenomenon could be pro duced in two different ways : "first, through the exer cise of her own will directing the magnetic currents so that the pressure on the table became such that no physical force could move it; second, through the action of those beings with whom she was in constant communication, and who, although unseen, were able to hold the table against all opposition." the writer has seen similar feats performed by hyp notizers with good subjects without the intervention of any ghostly intelligences. in 1870 the priestess of isis journeyed through egypt in company with a certain countess k , and endeavored to form a spiritualistic society at cairo, for the investigation of psychic phenomena, but things 228 madame blavatsky. growing unpleasant for her she left the land of pyra mids and papyri in hot haste. it is related of her that during this egyptian sojourn she spent one night in the king's sepulchre in the bowels of the great py ramid of cheops, sleeping in the very sarcophagus where once reposed the mummy of a pharoah. weird sights were seen by the entranced occultist and strange sounds were heard on that eventful occasion within the shadowy mortuary chamber of the pyra mid. at times she would let fall mysterious hints of what she saw that night, but they were as incompre hensible as the riddles of the fabled sphinx. countess paschkoff chronicles a curious story about the priestess of isis, which reminds one somewhat of the last chapter in bulwer's occult novel, "a strange story." the countess relates that she was once trav elling between baalbec and the river orontes, and in the desert came across the caravan belonging to madame blavatsky. they joined company and to wards nightfall pitched camp near the village of el mar sum amid some ancient ruins. among the relics of a pagan civilization stood a great monument covered with outlandish hieroglyphics. the countess was curious to decipher the inscriptions, and begged ma the priestess. 229 dame blavatsky to unravel their meaning, but the priestess of isis, notwithstanding her great archaeo logical knowledge, was unable to do so. however, she said: "wait until night, and we shall see !" when the ruins were wrapped in sombre shadow, mme. blavatsky drew a great circle upon the ground about the monument, and invited the countess to stand within the mystic confines. a fire was built and upon it were thrown various aromatic herbs and incense. cabalistic spells were recited by the sorceress, as the smoke from the incense ascended, and then she thrice commanded the spirit to whom the monument was erected to appear. soon the cloud of smoke from the burning incense assumed the shape of an old man with a long white beard. a voice from a distance pierced the misty image, and spoke: "i am hiero, one of the priests of a great temple erected to the gods, that stood upon this spot. this monument was the altar. behold!" no sooner were the words pro nounced than a phantasmagoric vision of a gigantic temple appeared, supported by ponderous columns, and a great city was seen covering the distant plain, but all soon faded into thin air. this story was related to a select coterie of occult 230 madame blavatsky. ists assembled in social conclave at the headquarters in new york. the question is, had the charming russian countess dreamed this, or was she trying to exploit herself as a traveler who had come "out of the mysteiious east" and had seen strange things? we next hear of the famous occultist in the united states, where she associated chiefly with spirit-me diums, enchanters, professional clairvoyants, and the like. "at this period of her career she had not,"* says dr. eliott coues, a learned investigator of psychic phenomena, "been metamorphosed into a theosophist. she was simply exploiting as a spiritualistic medium. her most familiar spook was a ghostly fiction named 'john king/ this fellow is supposed to have been a pirate, condemned for his atrocities to serve earth bound for a term of years, and to present himself at materializing stances on call. any medium who per sonates this ghost puts on a heavy black horse-hair beard and a white bed sheet and talks in sepulchral chest tones. john is as standard and sure-enough a ghost as ever appeared before the public. most of the leading mediums, both in europe and america, * communication to new york sun, 1892. the priestess. 231 keep him in stock. i have often seen the old fellow in new york, philadelphia, and washington through more mediums that i can remember the names of. our late minister to portugul, mr. j. o'sullivan, has a photograph of him at full length, floating in space, holding up a peculiar globe of light shaped like a glass decanter. this trustworthy likeness was taken in eu rope, and i think in russia, but am not sure on that point. i once had the pleasure of introducing the pirate king to my friend prof. alfred russel wallace, in the person of pierre l. o. a. keeler, a noted me dium of washington. "but the connection between the pirate and my story is this : madame blavatsky was exploiting king at the time of which i speak,and several of her letteis to friends, which i have read, are curiously scribbled in red and blue pencil with sentences and signatures of ']ohn king/ just as, later on, 'koot hoomi' used to miracu lously precipitate himself upon her stationery in all sorts of colored crayons. and, by the way, i may call the reader's attention to the fact that while the in genious creature was operating in cairo, her mahat mas were of the egyptian order of architecture, and located in the ruins of thebes or karnak. they were 232 madame blavatsky. not put in turbans and shifted to thibet till late in 1879." in 1875, while residing in new york, madame bla vatsky conceived the idea of establishing a theosophi cal society. stupendous thought! cagliostro in the eighteenth century founded his egyptian free masonry for the re-generation of mankind, and bla vatsky in the nineteenth century laid the corner stone of modern theosophy for a similar purpose. caglios tro had his high priestess in the person of a beautiful wife, lorenza feliciani, and blavatsky her hiero phant in the somewhat prosaic guise of a new york reporter, col. olcott, since then a famous personage in occult circles. during the civil war, olcott served in the quar termaster's department of the army and afterwards held a position in the internal revenue service of the united states. in 18 he was a newspaper man in new york, and was sent by the graphic to investi gate the alleged spiritualistic phenomena transpiring in the eddy family in chittenden, vermont. there he met madame blavatsky. it was his fate. col. olcott's description of his first sight of mme. blavatsky is interesting: the 1 riestess. 233 "the dinner at eddy's was at noon, and it was from the entrance door, of the bare and comfortless dining room that kappes and i first saw h. p. b. she had arrived shortly before jioon with a french canadian fig. 35. col.h. 8. olcott. lady, and they were at table as we entered. my eye was first attracted by a scarlet garibaldian shirt the former wore, as being in vivid contrast with the dull colors around. her hair was then a thick blonde mop, worn shorter than the shoulders, and it stood out from her head, silken, soft, and crinkled to the roots, like the fleece of a cotswold ewe. this and the *34 madame blavatsky. red shirt were what struck my attention before i took in the picture of her features. it was a massive kal muck face, contrasting in its suggestion of power, cul ture, and imperiousness, as strangely with the com monplace visages about the room, as her red garment did with the gray and white tones of the wall and woodwork, and the dull costumes of the rest of the guests. all sorts of cranky people were continually coming and going at eddy's, to see the mediumistic phenomena, and it only struck me on seeing this ec centric lady that this was but one more of the sort. pausing on the door-sill, i whispered to kappes, 'good gracious! look at that specimen, will you!' i went straight across and took a seat opposite her to indulge my favorite habit of character-study." commenting on this meeting, j. ransom bridges, in the arena, for april, 1895, remarks: "after din ner colonel olcott scraped an acquaintance by op portunely offering her a light for a cigarette which she proceeded to roll for herself. this 'light' must have been charged with theosophical karma, for the burn ing match or end of a lighted cigar the colonel does not specify lit a train of causes and their effects which now are making history and are world-wide in the priestess. fio. 36. oath of secrecy taken by charter members of the theo sophical society. [kindness of the new york herald.} 236 madame blavatsky. their importance. so confirmed a pessimist on theo sophical questions as henry sidgwick of the london society for psychical research, says, 'even if it [the theosophical society] were to expire next year, its twenty years' existence would be a phenomenon of some interest for a historian of european society in the nineteenth century/ " the seances at the eddy house must have been character studies indeed. the place where the ghosts were materialized was a large apartment over the din ing room of the ancient homestead. a dark closet, at one end of the room, with a rough blanket stretched across it, served as a cabinet. red indians and pirates were the favorite materializations, but when madame blavatsky appeared on the scene, ghosts of turks, kurdish cavaliers, and kalmucks visited this earthly scene, much to the surprise of every one. ol cott cites this fact as evidence of the genuineness of the materializations, remarking, "how could the ignor ant eddy boys, rough, rude, uncultured farmers, get the costumes and accessories for characters of this kind in a remote vermont village." what is theosophy? 237 2. what is theosophy, let us turn aside at this juncture to ask, "what is theosophy." the word theosophy (theosophia divine knowledge) appears to have been used about the third century, a. d., by the neo-platonists, or gnostics of alexandria, but the great principles of the doctrine, however, were taught hundreds of years prior to the mystical school established at alexandria. "it is not," says an interesting writer on the subject, "an outgrowth of buddhism although many buddhists see in its doctrines the reflection of buddha. it proposes to give its followers the esoteric, or inner-spiritual meaning of the great religious teachers of the world. it asserts repeated re-incarnations, or rebirths of the soul on earth, until it is fully purged of evil, and be comes fit to be absorbed into the deity whence it came, gaining thereby nirvana, or unconsciousness." some theosophists claim that nirvana is not a state of unconsciousness, but just the converse, a state of the most intensified consciousness, during which the soul remembers all of its previous incarnations. madame blavatsky claimed that "there exists in thibet a brotherhood whose members have acquired a power over nature which enables them to perform 238 madame blavatsky. wonders beyond the reach of ordinary men. she de clared herself to be a chela, or disciple of these brothers (spoken of also as 'adepts' and as 'mahat mas'), and asserted that they took a special interest in the theosophical society and all initiates in occult lore, being able to cause apparitions of themselves in places where their bodies were not; and that they not only appeared but communicated intelligently with those whom they thus visited and themselves per ceived what was going on where their phantoms ap peared." this phantasmal appearance she called the projection of the astral form. many of the phenom ena witnessed in the presence of the sibyl were sup posed to be the work of the mystic brotherhood who took so peculiar an interest in the theosophical so ciety and its members. the madame did not claim to be the founder of a new religious faith, but simply the reviver of a creed that has slumbered in the orient for centuries, and declared herself to be the messenger of these mahatmas to the scoffing western world. speaking of the mahatmas, she says in "isis un veiled": * * * 'travelers have met these adepts on the shores of the sacred ganges, brushed against them on the silent ruins of thebes, and in the myster what is theosophy? 339 ious deserted chambers of luxor. within the halls upon whose blue and golden vaults the weird signs at tract attention, but whose secret meaning is never penetrated by the idle gazers, they have been seen, but seldom recognized. historical memoirs have re corded their presence in the brilliantly illuminated salons of european aristocracy. they have been en countered again on the arid and desolate plains of the great sahara, or in the caves of elephanta. they may be found everywhere, but make themselves known only to those who have devoted their lives to unselfish study, and are not likely to turn back." the theosophical society was organized in new york, nov. 17, 1875. mr. arthur lillie, in his interesting work, "ma dame blavatsky and her theosophy," speaking about the founding of the society, says: "its moving spirit was a mr. felt, who had visited egypt and studied its antiquities. he was a student also of the kabbala ; and he had a somewhat eccentric theory that the dog-headed and hawk-headed figures painted on the egyptian monuments were not mere symbols, but accurate portraits of the 'elemental.' he professed to be able to evoke and control them. 240 madame blavatsky. he announced that he had discovered the secret 'for mularies' of the old egyptian magicians. plainly, the theosophical society at starting was an egyptian school of occultism. indeed colonel olcott, who fur nishes these details ('diary leaves' in the theoso phist, november to december, 1892), lets out that the first title suggested was the 'egyptological society/ ): there were strange reports set afloat at the time of the organization of the society of the mysterious ap pearance of a hindoo adept in his astral body at the "lamasery" on forty-seventh street. it was said to be that of a certain mahatma koot hoomi. olcott declared that the adept left behind him as a souvenir of his presence, a turban, which was exhibited on all occasions by the enterprising hierophant. william q. judge, a noted writer on spiritualism, who had met the madame at irving place in the winter of 1874, joined the society about this time, and became an earnest advocate of the secret doctrine. one wintry evening in march, 1889, mr. judge attended a meet ing of the new york anthropological society, and told the audience all about the spectral gentleman, koot hoomi. he said: "the parent society (theosophical) was founded in what is theosophy? 241 america by madame blavatsky, who gathered about her a few interested people and began the great work. they held a meeting to frame a constitution (1875), etc., but before anything had been accomplished a strangely foreign hindoo, dressed in the peculiar garb fig, 37. william q. jttdgb. [reproduced by courtesy of the new york of his country, came before them, and, leaving a pack age, vanished, and no one knew whither he came or went. on opening the package they found the neces sary forms of organization, rules, etc., which were adopted. the inference to be drawn was, that the 242 madame blavatsky. strange visitor was a mahatma, interested in the foun dation of the society." and so blavatskyism flourished, and the society gathered in disciples from all quarters. men without definite creeds are ever willing to embrace anything that savors of the mysterious, however absurd the ten ets of the new doctrine may be. the objects of the theosophical society, as set forth in a number of lucifer, the organ of the cult, published in july, 1890, are stated to be: "1. to form a nucleus of a universal brotherhood of humanity without distinction of race, creed, sex, or color. "2. to promote the study of aryan and other eastern literatures, religions and sciences. "3. to investigate laws of nature and the psychi cal powers of man." there is nothing of cant or humbug about the above articles. a society founded for the prosecution of such researches seems laudable enough. oriental scholars and scientists have been working in this field for many years. but the investigations, as conducted under the blavatsky regime, have savored so of char what is theosophy? 243 latanism that many earnest, truth-seeking theoso phists have withdrawn from the society. after seeing the society well established, madame blavatsky went to india. her career in that country was a checkered one. from this period dates the expos < of the mahatma miracles. the story reads like a romance by marie corelli. let us begin at the beginning. the headquarters of the society was first established at bombay, thence removed to madras and afterwards to adyar. a certain m. and mme. cou lomb, trusted friends of madame blavatsky, were made librarian and assistant corresponding secretary respectively of the society, and took up their residence in the building known as the headquarters a ramb ling east indian bungalow, such as figure in rudyard kipling's stories of oriental life. marvellous phen omena, of an occult nature, alleged to have taken place there, were attested by many theosophists. myster ious, ghostly appearances of mahatmas were seen, and messages were constantly received by supernatural means. one of the apartments of the bungalow was denominated the occult room, and in this room was a sort of cupboard against the wall, known as the shrine. in this shrine the ghostly missives were re 244 madame blavatsky. ceived and from it were sent. skeptics were con vinced, and occult lodges spread rapidly over india among the dreamy, marvel-loving natives. but af fairs were not destined to sail smoothly. there came a rift within the lute madame blavatsky quarreled with her trusted lieutenants, the coulombs! in may, 1884, m. and mme. coulomb were expelled from the society by the general council, during the absence of the high priestess and col. olcott in europe. the coulombs, who had grown weary of a life of im posture, or were actuated by the more ignoble motive of revenge, made a complete expose of the secret working of the inner brotherhood. they published portions of madame blavatsky's correspondence in the madras christian college magazine, for sep tember and october, 1884; letters written to the cou lombs, directing them to prepare certain im postures and letters written by the high priest ess, under the signature of koot hoomi, the mythical adept.* this correspondence unquestion ably implicated the sibyl in a conspiracy to fraudu lently produce occult phenomena. she declared them to be. in whole, or in part, forgeries. at this juncture * note these letters were purchased from the christian college * note these letters were purchased irom magazine by dr. elliot coues, of washington, d. c, what is theosophy? 245 the london society for psychical research sent mr. richard hodgson, b. a., scholar of st. john's college, cambridge, england, to india to investigate the entire matter in the interest of science. he left england november, 1884, and remained in the east till april, 1885. during this period blavat skyism was sifted to the bottom. mr. hodgson's re port covers several hundred pages, and proves con clusively that the occult phenomena of madame bla vatsky and her co-adjutors are unworthy of credence. in his volume he gives diagrams of the trap-doors and machinery of the shrine and the occult room, and fac similes of madame blavatsky's handwriting, which proved to be identical with that of koot hoomi, or cute hoomi, as the critics dubbed him. he shows that the coulombs had told the plain unvarnished truth so far as their disclosures went; and he stigma tizes the priestess of isis in the following language: "1. she has been engaged in a long continued combination with other persons to produce by ordi nary means a series of apparent marvels for the sup port of the theosophic movement. "2. that in particular the shrine at adyar through which letters purporting to come from mahatmas were 246 madame blavatsky. received, was elaborately arranged with a view to the secret insertion of letters and other objects through a sliding panel at the back, and regularly used for the purpose by madame blavatsky or her agents. "3. that there is consequently a very strong gen eral presumption that all the marvellous narratives put forward in evidence of the existence of mahatmas are to be explained as due either (a) to deliberate decep tion carried out by or at the instigation of madame blavatsky, or (b) to spontaneous illusion or hallucina tion or unconscious misrepresentation or invention on the part of the witnesses." the mysterious appearances of the ghostly mahat mas at the headquarters was shown, by mr. hodgson, to be the work of confederates, the cleverest among them being madame coulomb. sliding panels, secret doors, and many disguises were the modus operandi of the occult phenomena. in regard to the letters and alleged precipitated writing, mr. hodgson says: "it has been alleged, indeed, that when madame blavatsky was at madras, instantaneous replies to mental queries had been found in the shrine (at adyar), that envelopes containing questions were re turned absolutely intact to the senders, and that when what is theosophy? 247 they were opened replies were found within in the handwriting of a mahatma. after numerous inquir ies, i found that in all cases i could hear of, the mental query was such as might easily have been anticipated by madame blavatsky; indeed, the query was whether the questioner would meet with success in his en deavor to become a pupil of the mahatma, and the an swer was frequently of the indefinite and oracular sort. in some cases the envelope inserted in the shrine was one which had been previously sent to headquarters for that purpose, so that the envelope might have been opened and the answer written therein before it was placed in the shrine at all. where sufficient care was taken in the preparation of the inquiry, either no spe cific answer was given or the answer was delayed." a certain phenomenon, frequently mentioned by theosophists as having occurred in madame blavat sky's sitting-room, was the dropping of a letter from the ceiling, supposed to be a communication from some mahatma. in all such cases conjuring was proved to have been used the deus ex machina being either a silk thread or else a cunningly secreted trap door hid den between the wooden beams of the bungalow ceil ing, operated of course by a concealed confederate. 248 madame blavatsky. madam blavatsky's favorite method of impressing people with her occult powers was the almost imme diate reception of letters from distant countries, in re sponse to questions asked. these feats were the re sult of carefully contrived plans, preconcerted weeks in advance. she would telegraph in cipher to one of her numerous correspondents, east indian, for ex ample, to write a letter in reply to a certain query, and post it at a particular date. then she would cal culate the arrival of the letter, often to a nicety. her ability as a conversationalist enabled her to adroitly lead people into asking questions that would tally with the mahatma messages. but sometimes she failed, and a ludicrous fiasco was the result. mr. hodgson's report contains accounts of many such mystic letters that would arrive by post from india in the nick of time, or too late for use. among other remarkable things reported of the madame was her power of producing photographs of people far away by a sort of spiritual photography, in volving no other mechanical process than the slipping of a sheet of paper between the leaves of her blotting pad. when stories of this spirit-photography were rife what is theosophy? 249 in london, a scientist published the following ex planation of a method of making such mahatma por traits : "has the english public never heard of 'magic photography?' just a few years ago small sheets of white paper were offered for sale which on being cov ered with damp blotting paper developed an image as if by magic. the white sheets of paper seemed blanks. really, however, they were photographs, not containing gold, which had been bleached by immers ing them in a solution of mercuric chloride. the latter gives up part of its chlorine, and this chlorine bleaches the brown silver particles of which the pho^ tograph consists, by changing them to chloride of sil ver. the mercuric chloride becomes mercurous chloride. this body is white, and therefore invisible on white paper. now, several substances will color this white mercurous chloride black. ammonia and hypo-sulphite of soda will do this. in the magic pho tographs before mentioned the blotting paper con tained hypo-sulphite of soda. consequently when the alleged blank sheets of white note paper were placed between the sheets of blotting paper and slightly moistened, the hypo-sulphite of soda in the blotting 250 madame blavatsky. paper acted chemically on the mercurous chloride in ' the white note paper, and the picture appeared. as this was known in 1840 to herschel, blavatsky's mir acle is nothing but a commonplace conjuring experi ment." 3. madame blavatsky's confession, the individual to whom the world is most indebted for a critical analysis of madame blavatsky's .char acter and her claims as a producer of occult phenom ena is vsevolod s. solovyoff, a russian journalist and litterateur of considerable note. 'he has ruthlessly torn the veil from the priestess of isis in a remark able book of revelations, entitled, "a modern priest ess of isis." in may, 1884, he was in paris, engaged in studying occult literature, and was preparing to write a treatise on "the rare, but in my opinion, real manifestations of the imperfectly investigated spiritual powers of man." one day he read in the matin that madame blavatsky had arrived in paris, and he determined to meet her. thanks to a friend in st. petersburg, he obtained a letter of introduction to the famous theosophist, and called on her a few days later, at her residence in the rue notre dame des her confession. 251 champs. his pen picture of the interview is graphic: "i found myself in a long, mean street on the left bank of the seine, de i'autre cote de i'eau, as the parisians say. the coachman stopped at the number i had told him. the house was unsightly enough to look at, and at the door there was not a single carriage. " 'my dear sir, you have let her slip; she has left paris/ i said to myself with vexation. "in answer to my inquiry the concierge showed me the way. i climbed a very, very dark staircase, rang, and a slovenly figure in an oriental turban admitted me into a tiny dark lobby. "to my question, whether madame blavatsky would receive me, the slovenly figure replied with an 'entrez, monsieur' and vanished with my card, while i was left to wait in a small low room, poorly and in sufficiently furnished. "i had not long to wait. the door opened, and she was before me; a rather tall woman, though she pro duced the impression of being short, on account of her unusual stoutness. her great head seemed all the greater from her thick and very bright hair, touched with a scarcely perceptible gray, and very slightly 252 madame blavatsky. frizzed, by nature and not by art, as i subsequently convinced myself. "at the first moment her plain, old earthy-colored face struck me as repulsive; but she fixed on me the gaze of her great, rolling, pale blue eyes, and in these wonderful eyes, with their hidden power, all the rest was forgotten. "i remarked, however, that she was very strangely dressed, in a sort of black sacque, and that all the fingers of her small, soft, and as it were boneless hands, with their slender points and long nails, were covered with great jewelled rings." madame blavatsky received solovyoff kindly, and they became excellent friends. she urged him to join the theosophical society, and he expressed himself as favorably impressed with the purposes of the or ganization. during the interview she produced her astral bell "phenomenon." she excused herself to at tend to some domestic duty, and on her return to the sitting-room, the phenomenon took place. says so lovyoff: "she made a sort of flourish with her hand, raised it upwards and suddenly, i heard distinctly, quite distinctly, somewhere above our heads, near the her confession. 253 ceiling, a very melodious sound like a little silver bell or an aeolian harp. " 'what is the meaning of this?' i asked. " this means only that my master is here, although you and i cannot see him. he tells me that i may trust you, and am to do for you whatever i can. vous etes sous sa protection, henceforth and forever/ "she looked me straight in the eyes, and caressed me with her glance and her kindly smile." this mahatmic phenomenon ought to have abso lutely convinced solovyoff, but it did not. he asked himself the question: " 'why was the sound of the silver bell not heard at once, but only after she had left the room and come back again ?'" a few days after this event, the russian journalist was regularly enrolled as a member of the theosophi cal society, and began to study madame blavatsky instead of oriental literature and occultism. he was introduced to colonel olcott, who showed him the turban that had been left at the new york headquar ters by the astral koot hoomi. solovyoff witnessed other "phenomena" in the presence of madame bla vatsky, which did not impress him very favorably. 254 madame blavatsky. finally, the high priestess produced her chef d* oewvre, the psychometric reading of a letter. solovyoff was rather impressed with this feat and sent an ac count of it to the rebus, but subsequently came to the conclusion that trickery had entered into it. when the coulomb exposures came, he did not see much of madame blavatsky. she was overwhelmed with let ters and spent a considerable time anxiously travelling to and fro on theosophical affairs. in august, 1885, she was at wurzburg sick at heart and in body, at tended by a diminutive hindoo servant, bavaji by name. she begged solovyoff to visit her, promising to give him lessons in occultism. with a determina tion to investigate the "phenomena," he went to the bavarian watering place, and one morning called on madame blavatsky. he found her seated in a great arm chair: "at the opposite end of the table stood the dwarfish bavaji, with a confused look in his dulled eyes. he was evidently incapable of meeting my gaze, and the fact certainly did not escape me. in front of bavaji on the table were scattered several sheets of clean paper. nothing of the sort had occurred before, so her confession. 255 my attention was the more aroused. in his hand was a great thick pencil. i began to have ideas. " 'just look at the unfortunate man/ said helena petrovna suddenly, turning to me. 'he does not look himself at all ; he drives me to distraction'. . . then she passed from bavaji to the london society for psy chical research, and again tried to persuade me about the 'master.' bavaji stood like a statue; he could take no part in our conversation, as he did not know a word of russian. " 'but such incredulity as to the evidence of your own eyes, such obstinate infidelity as yours, is simply unpardonable. in fact, it is wicked!' exclaimed he lena petrovna. "i was walking about the room at the time, and did not take my eyes off bavaji. i saw that he was keeping his eyes wide open, with a sort of contortion of his whole body, while his hand, armed with a great pen cil, was carefully tracing some letters on a sheet of paper. "'look; what is the matter with him?' exclaimed madame blavatsky. " 'nothing particular/ i answered; 'he is writing in russian/ 256 madame blavatsky. "i saw her whole face grow purple. she began to stir in her chair, with an obvious desire to get up and take the paper from him. but with her swollen and almost inflexible limbs, she could not do so with any speed. i made haste to seize the paper and saw on it a beautifully drawn russian phrase. "bavaji was to have written, in the russian lan guage with which he was not acquainted: 'blessed are they that believe, as said the great adept/ he had learned his task well, and remembered correctly the form of all the letters, but he had omitted two in the word 'believe/ [the effect was precisely the same as if in english he had omitted the first two and last two letters of the word.] " 'blessed are they that lie' i read aloud, unable to control the laughter which shook me. 'that is the best thing i ever saw. oh, bavaji! you should have got your lesson up better for examination!' "the tiny hindoo hid his face in his hands and rushed out of the room ; i heard his hysterical sobs in the distance. madame blavatsky sat with distorted features." as will be seen from the above, the hindoo servant was one of the madame's mahatmas, and was caught her confession. 257 in the act of preparing a communication from a sage in the himalayas, to solovyoff. "after this abortive phenomena," remarks the rus sian journalist, "things marched faster, and i saw that i should soon be in a position to send very interesting additions to the report of the psychical society." . . "every day when i came to see the madame she used to try to do me a favor in the shape of some trifling 'phenomenon/ but she never succeeded. thus one day her famous 'silver bell' was heard, when suddenly something fell beside her on the ground. i hurried to pick it up and found in my hands a pretty little piece of silver, delicately worked and strangely shaped. helena petrovna changed countenance, and snatched the object from me. i coughed significantly, smiled and turned the conversation to indifferent matters." on another occasion he was conversing with her about the "theosophist," and "she mentioned the name of subba rao, a hindoo, who had attained the highest degree of knowledge." she directed mr. solovyoff to open a drawer in her writing desk, and take from it a photograph of the adept. "i opened the drawer," says solovyoff, "found the photograph and handed it to her together with a 258 madame blavatsky. packet of chinese envelopes (see fig. 34), such as i well knew; they were the same in which the 'elect' used to receive the letters of the mahatmas morya and koot hoomi by 'astral post/ "took at that, helena petrovna! i should advise you to hide this packet of the master's envelopes far ther off. you are so terribly absent-minded and care less/ "it was easy to imagine what this was to her. i looked at her and was positively frightened; her face grew, perfectly black. she tried in vain to speak; she could only writhe helplessly in her great arm-chair." solovyoff with great adroitness gradually drew from her a confession. "what is one to do," said madame blavatsky, plaintively, "when in order to rule men it is necessary to deceivethem; almost invariably the more simple, the more silly, and the more gross the phenomenon, the more likely it is to succeed." the priestess of isis broke down completely and acknowl edged that her phenomena were not genuine ; the koot hoomi letters were written by herself and others in collusion with her; finally she exhibited to the journal ist the apparatus for producing the "astral bell," and begged him to go into a co-partnership with her to her confession. 259 astonish the world. he refused! the next day she declared that a black magician had spoken through her mouth, and not herself; she was not responsible for what she had said. after this he had other inter views with her; threats and promises; and lastly a most extraordinary letter, which was headed, "my confession," and reads, in part, as follows: "believe me, / have fallen because i have made up my mind to fall, or else to bring about a reaction by tell ing all god's truth about myself, but without mercy on my enemies. on this i am firmly resolved, and from this day i shall begin to prepare myself in order to be ready. i will fly no more. together with this letter, or a few hours later, i shall myself be in paris, and then on to london. a frenchman is ready, and a well-known journalist too, delighted to set about the work and to write at my dictation something short, but strong, and what is most important a true history of my life. i shall not even attempt to defend, to justify myself. in this book i shall simply say: "in 1848, i, hating my husband, n. v. blavatsky (it may have been wrong, but still such was the nature god gave me), left him, abandoned him a virgin. (i shall produce documents and letters proving this, although he himself 260 madame blavatsky. is not such a swine as to deny it.) i loved one man deep ly, but still more i loved occult science, believing in magic, wizards, etc. i wandered with him here and there, in asia, in america, and in europe. i met with so-and-so. (you may call him a wizard, what does it matter to him?) in 1858 i was in london; there came out some story about a child, not mine (there will follow medical evidence, from the faculty of paris, and it is for this that i am going to paris). one thing and another was said of me; that i was depraved, pos sessed with a devil, etc. "i shall tell everything as i think fit, everything i did, for the twenty years and more, that i laughed at the qu'en dira-t-on, and covered up all traces of what i was really occupied in, i. e., the sciences occultes, for the sake of my family and relations who would at that time have cursed me. i will tell how from my eighteenth year i tried to get people to talk about me, and say about me that this man and that was my lover, and hundreds of them. i will tell, too, a great deal of which no one ever dreamed, and i will prove it. then i will inform the world how suddenly my eyes were opened to all the horror of my moral suicide; how i was sent to america to try my psychological capabili her confession. 261 ties; how i collected a society there, and began to ex piate my faults, and attempted to make men better and to sacrifice myself for their regeneration. i will name all the theosophists who were brought into the right way, drunkards and rakes, who became almost saints, especially in india, and those who enlisted as theoso phists, and continued their former life, as though they were doing the work (and there are many of them) and yet were the first to join the pack of hounds that were hunting me down, and to bite me .... "no! the devils will save me in this last great hour. you did not calculate on the cool determination of despair, which was and has passed over. . . . and to this i have been brought by you. you have been the last straw which has broken the camel's back un der its intolerably heavy burden. now you are at liberty to conceal nothing. repeat to all paris what you have ever heard or know about me. i have al ready written a letter to sinnett forbidding him to pub lish my memoirs at his own discretion. i myself will publish them with all the truth. ... it will be a saturnalia of the moral depravity of mankind, this confession of mine, a worthy epilogue of my stormy life. let the psychist gentlemen, and who 262 madame blavatsky. soever will, set on foot a new inquiry. mohini and all the rest, even india, are dead for me. i thirst for one thing only, that the world may know all the reality, all the truth, and learn the lesson. and then death, kindest of all. h. blavatsky. "you may print this letter if you will, even in russia. it is all the same now." this remarkable effusion may be the result of a fever-disordered brain, it may be, as she says, the "god's truth;" at any rate it bears the ear-marks of the blavatsky style about it. the disciples of the high priestess of isis have bitterly denounced so lovyoff and the revelations contained in his book. they brand him as a coward for not having published his diatribe during the lifetime of the madame, when she was able to defend herself. however that may be, solovyoff's exposures tally very well with the mass of corroborative evidence adduced by hodgson, coues, coleman, and a host of writers, who began their attacks during the earthly pilgrimage of the great sibyl. on receipt of this letter, feb16, 1886, solovyoff resigned from the theosophical society. he de nounced the high priestess to the paris theosophists, her confession. 263 and the blavatsky lodges in that city were disrupted in consequence of the exposures. this seems to be a convincing proof of the genuineness of his revela tions. after the solovyoff incident, madame blavat sky went into retirement for a while. eventually she appeared in london as full of enthusiasm as ever and added to her list of converts the countess of caithness and mrs. annie besant, the famous socialist and au thoress. finally came the last act of this strange life-drama. that messenger of death, whom the mystical persian singer, omar khayyam, calls "the angel of the darker drink," held to her lips the inevitable chalice of mortality; then the "golden cord was loosened and the silver bowl was broken/' and she passed into the land of shadows. it was in london, may 8, 1891, that helena petrovna blavatsky ended one of the strangest careers on record. she died calmly and peacefully in her bed, surrounded by her friends, and after her de mise her body was cremated by her disciples, with oc cult rites and ceremonies. all that remained of her a few handfuls of powdery white ashes was gathered together, and divided into three equal parts. one portion was buried in london, one sent to new york 264 madame blavatsky. city, and the third to adyar, near madras, india. the new world, the old world, and the still older world of the east were honored with the ashes of h. p. b. three civilizations, three heaps of ashes, three initials mystic number from time immemorial, celebrated symbol of divinity known to, and revered by, ca balists, gnostics, rosicrucians, and theosophists. mr. j. ransom bridges, who had considerable cor respondence with the high priestess from 1888 until her death, says (arena, april, 1895): "whatever may be the ultimate verdict upon the life and work of this woman, her place in history will be unique. there was a titanic display of strength in everything she did. the storms that raged in her were cyclones. those exposed to them often felt with solovyoff that if there were holy and sage mahatmas, they could not remain holy and sage, and have anything to do with helena petrovna blavatsky. the 'confession* she wrote rings with the mingled curses and mad laughter of a crazy mariner scuttling his own ship. yet she could be as tender and sympathetic as any mother. her mastery of some natures seemed complete; and these people she worked like galley-slaves in the theosoph ical tread mill of her propaganda movement. her writings. 265 "to these disciples she was the greatest thaumatur gist known to the world since the days of the christ. the attacks upon her, the coulomb and solovyoff ex posures, the continual newspaper calumnies they look upon as a gigantic conspiracy brewed by all the rules of the black art to counteract, and, if possible, to des troy the effect of her work and mission." "requiescat in pace," o priestess of isis, until your next incarnation on earth! the twentieth cen tury will doubtless have need of your services! for the delectation of the curious let me add: the english resting place of madame blavatsky is designed after the model of an oriental "dagoba," or tomb; the american shrine is a marble niche in the wall of the theosophical headquarters, no. 144 madison avenue, the ashes reposing in a vase standing in the niche be hind a hermetically-sealed glass window. the orien tal shrine in adyar is a tomb modelled after the world famous taj mahal, and is built of pink sandstone, sur mounted by a small benares copper spire. 4, the writings of madame blavatsky, madame blavatsky is known to the reading world as the writer of two voluminous works of a philosophi 266 madame blavatsky. cal or mystical character, explanatory of the esoteric doctrine, viz., "isis unveiled," published in 1877, and the "secret doctrine," published in 1888. in the composition of these works she claimed that she was assisted by the mahatmas who visited her apartments when she was asleep, and wrote portions of the manu scripts with their astral hands while their natural bodies reposed entranced in thibetan lamaseries. these fictions were fostered by prominent members of the theosophical society, and believed by many credulous persons. "isis unveiled" is a hodge-podge of absurdities, pseudo-science, mythology and folk lore, arranged in helter-skelter fashion, with an utter disregard of logical sequence. the fact was that madame blavatsky had a very imperfect knowledge of english, and this may account for the strange mis takes in which the volume abounds, despite the aid of the ghostly mahatmas. william emmette coleman, of san francisco, has made an exhaustive analysis of the madame's writings, and declares that "isis," and the "secret doctrine" are full of plagiarisms. in "isis" he discovered "some 2,000 passages copied from other books without proper credit." speaking of the "secret doctrine," the master key to the wisdom of her writings. 267 the ages, he says: 'the 'secret doctrine' is ostensibly based upon certain stanzas, claimed to have been trans lated by madame blavatsky from the 'book of dzyan' the oldest book in the world, written in a lan guage unknown to philology. the 'book of dzyan' was the work of madame blavatsky a compilation, in her own language, from a variety of sources, embrac ing the general principles of the doctrines and dogmas taught in the 'secret doctrine/ i find in this 'oldest book in the world' statements copied from nineteenth century books, and in the usual blundering manner of madame blavatsky. letters and other writings of the adepts are found in the 'secret doctrine.' in these mahatmic productions i have traced various plagiar ized passages from wilson's 'vishnu purana,' and winchell's 'world life' of like character to those in madame blavatsky's acknowledged writings. * * * a specimen of the wholesale plagiarisms in this book appears in vol. ii., pp. 599-603. nearly the whole of four pages was copied from oliver's 'pythagorean triangle/ while only a few lines were credited to that work." those who are interested in coleman's exposs are referred to appendix c, of solovyoff's book, "a mod 268 madame blavatsky. era priestess of isis." the title of this appendix is 'the sources of madame blavatsky's writings." mr. coleman is at present engaged in the preparation of an elaborate work on the subject, which will in addi tion contain an "expos of theosophy as a whole." it will no doubt prove of interest to students of oc cultism. 0, life and death of a famous theosophist. the funeral of baron de palm, conducted according to theosophical rites, is an interesting chapter in the history of the society, and worth relating. joseph henry louis charles, baron de palm, grand cross commander of the sovereign order of the holy sepulchre at jerusalem, and knight of various orders, was born at augsburg, may 10, 1809. he came to the united states rather late in life, drifted west with out any settled occupation, and lived from hand to mouth in various western cities. finally he located in new york city, broken in health and spirit. he was a man of considerable culture and interested to a greater or less extent in the phenomena of modern spiritualism. a letter of introduction from the editor of the rcligio-philosophical journal, of chicago, a famous theosophist. 269 made him acquainted with col. olcott, who intro duced him to prominent members of the theosophical society. he was elected a member of the society, eventually becoming a member of the council. in the year 1875 he died, leaving behind an earnest re quest that col. olcott "should perform the last offices in a fashion that would illustrate the eastern notions of death and immortality."* he also left directions that his body should be cremated. a great deal of excitement was caused over this affair in orthodox re ligious circles, and public curiosity was aroused to the highest pitch. the funeral service was, as madame blavatsky described it in a letter to a european corre spondent, "pagan, almost antique pagan." the cere mony was held in the great hall of the masonic tem ple, corner of twenty-third and sixth avenue. tick ets of admission were issued of decidedly occult shape triangular; some black, printed in silver; others drab, printed in black. a crowd of 2,000 people as sembled to witness the obsequies. on the stage was a triangular altar, with a symbolical fire burning upon it. the coffin stood near by, covered with the orders of knighthood of the deceased. a splendid choir ren * "old diary reaves" olcott. 270 madame blavatsky. dered several orphic hymns composed for the oc casion, with organ accompaniment, and col. olcott, as hierophant, made an invocation or mantram "to the soul of the world whose breath gives and withdraws the form of everything." death is always solemn, and no subject for levity, yet i must not leave out of this chronicle the unique burlesque programme of baron de palm's funeral, published by the new york world, the day before the event. says the world: "the procession will move in the following order: "col. olcott as high priest, wearing a leopard skin and carrying a roll of papyrus (brown card board). "mr. cobb, as sacred scribe, with style and tablet. "egyptian mummy-case, borne upon a sledge drawn by four oxen. (also a slave bearing a pot of lubricating oil.) "madame blavatsky as chief mourner and also bearer of the sistrum. (she will wear a long linen garment extending to the feet, and a girdle about the waist.) "colored boy carrying three abyssinian geese (philadelphia chickens) to place upon the bier. "vice-president felt, with the eye of osiris painted a famous theosophist. 271 on his left breast, and carrying an asp (bought at a toy store on eighth avenue.) "dr. pancoast, singing an ancient theban dirge: " 'isis and nepthys, beginning and end : one more victim to amenti we send. pay we the fare, and let us not tarry. cross the styx by the roosevelt street ferry.' " "slaves in mourning gowns, carrying the offerings and libations, to consist of early potatoes, asparagus, roast beef, french pan-cakes, bock-beer, and new jersey cider. "treasurer newton, as chief of the musicians, play ing the double pipe. "other musicians performing on eight-stringed harps, tom-toms, etc. "boys carrying a large lotus (sunflower). "librarian fassit, who will alternate with music by repeating the lines beginning: " 'here horus comes, i see the boat. friends, stay your flowing tears ; the soul of man goes through a goat in just 3,000 years.' "at the temple the ceremony will be short and sim ple. the oxen will be left standing on the sidewalk, with a boy near by to prevent them goring the passers by. besides the theurgic hymn, printed above in 272 madame blavatsky. full, the coptic national anthem will be sung, trans lated and adapted to the occasion as follows: "sitting cynocephalus up in a tree, i see you, and you see me. river full of crocodile, see his long snout ! hoist up the shadoof and pull him right out." 6. the mantle of madame blavatsky. after madame blavatsky's death, mrs. annie be sant assumed the leadership of the theosophical so ciety, and wore upon her finger a ring that belonged to the high priestess: a ring with a green stone flecked with veins of blood red, upon the surface of which was engraved the interlaced triangles within a circle, with the indian motto, sat (life), the symbol of theosophy. it was given to madame blavatsky by her indian teacher, says mrs. besant, and is very mag netic. the high priestess on her deathbed pre sented the mystic signet to her successor, and left her in addition many valuable books and manuscripts. the theosophical society now numbers its adherents by the thousands and has its lodges scattered over the united states, france, england and india. at the world's columbian exposition it was well repre sented in the great parliament of religions, by annie besant, william q. judge, of the american branch, her successors. 273 pig. 38. portrait of mrs. annib besawt. 274 madame blavatsky. and prof. chakravatir, a high caste brahmin of india. mrs. besant, in an interview published in the new york world, dec. 11, 1892, made the following state ment concerning madame blavatsky's peculiar powers : "one time she was trying to explain to me the con trol of the mind over certain currents in the ether about us, and to illustrate she made some little taps come on my own head. they were accompanied by the sensation one experiences on touching an electric battery. i have frequently seen her draw things to her simply by her will, without touching them. in deed, she would often check herself when strangers were about. it was natural for her, when she wanted a book that was on the table, to simply draw it to her by her power of mind, as it would be for you to reach out your hand to pick it up. and so, as i say, she often had to check herself, for she was decidedly ad verse to making a show of her power. in fact, that is contrary to the law of the brotherhood to which she belonged. this law forbids them to make use of their power except as an instruction to their pupils or as an aid to the spreading of the truth. an adept may her successors. 275 never use his knowledge for his personal advantage. he may be starving, and despite his ability to ma terialize banquets he may not supply himself with a crust of bread. this is what is meant in the gospel when it says: 'he saved others, himself he cannot save.' "one time she had written an article and as usual she gave me her manuscript to look over. "sometimes she wrote very good grammatic english and again she wrote very slovenly english. so she always had me go over her manuscript. in reading this particular one i found a long quotation of some twenty or thirty lines. when i finished it i went to her and said: 'where in the world did you get that quotation?' " 'i got it from an indian newspaper of / naming the date. " 'but/ i said, 'that paper cannot be in this country yet! how did you get hold of it?' " 'oh, i got it, dear,' she said, with a little laugh; 'that's enough/ "of course i understood then. when the time came for the paper to arrive, i thought i would verify her quotation, so i asked her for the name, the date 276 madame blavatsky. of the issue and the page on which the quotation would be found. she told me, giving me, we will say, 45 as the number of the page. i went to the agent, looked up the paper and there was no such quotation on page 45. then i remembered that things seen in the astral light are reversed, so i turned the number around, looked on page 54 and there was the quota tion. when i went home i told her that it was all right, but that she had given me the wrong page. 1 'very likely/ she said. 'someone came in just as i was finishing it, and i may have forgotten to reverse the number/ "you see, anything seen in the astral light is re versed, as if you saw it in a mirror, while anything seen clairvoyantly is straight." the elevation of mrs. besant to the high priestess ship of the theosophical society was in accord with the spirit of the age an acknowledgment of the eter nal feminine; but it did not bring renose to the or ganization. william q. judge, of the american branch, began dabbling, it is claimed, in mahatma messages on his own account, and charges were made against him by mrs. besant. a bitter warfare was waged in theosophical journals, and finally the amer her successors. 277 ican branch of the general society seceded, and or ganized itself into the american theosophical society. judge was made life-president and held the post until his death, in new york city, march 21st, 1896. his body was cremated and the ashes sealed in an urn, which was deposited in the society's rooms, no. 144 madison avenue. five weeks after the death of judge, the theosophi cal society held its annual conclave in new york city, and elected e. t. hargrove as the presiding genius of esoteric wisdom in the united states. it was origin ally intended to hold this convention in chicago, but the change was made for a peculiar reason. as the press reported the circumstance, "it was the result of a request by a mysterious adept whose existence had been unsuspected, and who made known his wish in a communication to the executive committee." it seems that the theosophical society is composed of two bodies, the exoteric and the esoteric. the first holds open meetings for the discussion of ethical and theosophical subjects, and the second meets privately, being composed of a secret body of adepts, learned in occultism and possessing remarkable spiritual powers. the chief of the secret order is appointed by the ma 278 madame blavatsky. hatmas, on account, it is claimed, of his or her occult development. madame blavatsky was the high priestess in this inner temple during her lifetime, and was succeeded by hierophant w. q. judge. when judge died, it seems there was no one thoroughly qualified to take his place as the head of the esoteric branch, until an examination was made of his papers. then came a surprise. judge had named as his suc cessor a certain obscure individual whom he claimed to be a great adept, requesting that the name be kept a profound secret for a specified time. in obedience to this injunction, the great unknown was elected as chief of the inner brother-and-sisterhood. all of this made interesting copy for the new york journalists, and columns were printed about the affair. another surprise came when the convention of exoterics ("hys terics," as some of the papers called them) subscribed $25,000 for the founding of an occult temple in this country. but the greatest surprise of all was a theo sophical wedding. the de palm funeral fades away into utter insignificance beside this mystic marriage. the contracting parties were claude falls wright, formerly secretary to madame blavatsky, and mary c. l. leonard, daughter of anna byford leonard, her successors. 279 one of the best known theosophists in the west. the ceremony was performed at aryan hall, no. 144 mad ison avenue, n. y., in the presence of the occult body. outsiders were not admitted. however, public cur iosity was partly gratified by sundry crumbs of in formation thrown out by the theosophical press bu reau. the young couple stood beneath a seven-pointed star, made of electric light globes, and plighted their troth amid clouds of odoriferous incense. then fol lowed weird chantings and music by an occult orches tra composed of violins and violoncellos. the un known adept presided over the affair, as special envoy of the mahatmas. he was enveloped from head to foot in a thick white veil, said the papers. mr. wright and his bride-elect declared solemnly that they remembered many of their former incarna tions; their marriage had really taken place in egypt, 5,000 years ago in cne of the mysterious temples of that strange country, and the ceremony had been per formed by the priests of isis. yes, they remembered it all! it seemed but as yesterday! they recalled with vividness the scene: their march up the avenue of monoliths; the lotus flowers strewn in their path by 280 madame blavatsky. rosy children; the intoxicating perfume of the incense, burned in bronze braziers by shaven-headed priests; the hieroglyphics, emblematical of life, death and res urrection, painted upon the temple walls; the hiero phant in his gorgeous vestments. oh, what a dream of old world splendor and beauty! before many months had passed, the awful secret of the veiled adept's identity was revealed. the great unknown turned out to be a she instead of a he adept a certain mrs. katherine alice tingley, of new york city. the reporters began ringing the front door bell of the adept's house in the vain hope of ob taining an interview, but the newly-hatched sphinx turned a deaf ear to their entreaties. the time was not yet ripe for revelations. her friends, however, rushed into print, and told the most marvellous stories of her mediumship. w. t. stead, the english journalist and student of psychical research, reviewing the theosophical con vention and its outcome, says (borderland, july, 1896, p. 306): "the judgeite seceders from the theosophi cal society held their annual convention in new york, april 26th to 27th. they have elected a young man, mr. ernest t. hargrove, as their president. a for her successors. 281 tner spiritual medium and clairvoyant, by name kath erine alice tingley, who claims to have been bosom friends with h. p. b. 1200 years b. c, when both were incarnated in egypt, is, however, the grand pan jandrum of the cause. her first husband was a de tective, her second is a clerk in the white lead com pany's office in brooklyn. "according to mr. hargrove she is the new adept; she was appointed by mr. judge, and we are going to sustain her, as we sustained him, for we know her important connection in egypt, mexico and europe/ " in the spring of 1896, mrs. tingley, accompanied by a number of prominent occultists, started on a cru sade through the world to bring the truths of theoso phy to the toiling millions. the crusaders before their departure were presented with a purple silk ban ner, bearing the legend: "truth, light, liberation for discouraged humanity." the new york herald (aug. 16, 1896) says of this crusade: "when mrs. tingley and the other crusaders left this country nothing had been heard of the claim of the reincarnated blavatsky. now, however, this idea is boldly advanced in england by the american 282 madame blavatsky. branch of the society there, and in america by bur cham harding, the acting head of the society in this country. when mr. harding was seen at the theoso phical headquarters, he said: "'yes, mme. blavatsky is reincarnated in mrs. tingley. she has not only been recognized by my self and other members of the american branch of the theosophical society, who knew h. p. b. in her for mer life, but the striking physical and facial resem blance has also been noted by members of the english branch/ "but this recognition by the english members of the society does not seem to be as strong as mr. hard ing would seem to have it understood. in fact, there are a number of members of that branch who boldly declare that mrs. tingley is an impostor. one of them, within the last week, addressing the english members on the subject, claimed that mme. blavatsky had foreseen that such an impostor would arise. he said: " when mme. blavatsky lived in her body among us, she declared to all her disciples that, in her next reincarnation, she would inhabit the body of an east ern man, and she warned them to be on their guard her successors. 283 against any assertion made by mediums or others that they were controlled by her. whatever h. p. b. lacked, she never wanted emphasis, and no one who knew anything of the founder of the theosophical society was left in any doubt as to her views upon this question. she declared that if any persons, after her death, should claim that she was speaking through them, her friends might be quite sure that it was a lie. imagine, then, the feelings of h. p. b/s disciples on being presented with an american clairvoyant me dium, in the shape of mrs. tingley, who is reported to claim that h. p. b. is reincarnated in her/ "the american branch of the society is not at all disturbed by this charge of fraud by the english branch. in connection with it mr. harding says: " 'it is true that the american branch of the theo sophical society has seceded from the english branch, but as mme. blavatsky, the founder, was in reality an american, it can be understood why we consider our selves the parent society.' "of the one letter which mrs. tingley has sent to america since the arrival of the crusaders, the eng lish theosophists are a unit in the expression of opin ion that it illustrated, as did her speech in queen's 284 madame blavatsky. hall, merely 'unmeaning platitudes and prophecies/ but the american members are quite as loud in their expressions that the english members are trying to win the sympathies of the public, and that the words are really understood by the initiate. "the letter reads: 'in thanking you for the many kind letters addressed to me as katherine tingley, as well as by other names that would not be understood by the general public, i should like to say a few words as to the future and its possibilities. many of you are destined to take an active part in the work that the future will make manifest, and it is well to press on ward with a clear knowledge of the path to be trodden and with a clear vision of the goal to be reached. " the path to be trodden is both exterior and inter ior, and in order to reach the goal it is necessary to tread these paths with strength, courage, faith and the essence of them all, which is wisdom. " 'for these two paths, which fundamentally are one, like every duality in nature, are winding paths, and now lead through sunlight, then through deepest shade. during the last few years the large majority of students have been rounding a curve in the paths of both inner and outer work, and this wearied many. her successors. 285 but those who persevered and faltered not will soon reap their reward. " the present is pregnant with the promise of the near future, and that future is brighter than could be fig. 39. portrait of mrs. tingley. [reproduced by courtesy of the new york herald^ believed by those who have so recently been immersed in the shadows that are inevitable in cyclic progress. can words describe it? i think not. but if you will 286 madame blavatsky. think of the past twenty years of ploughing and sow ing and will keep in your mind the tremendous force that has been scattered broadcast throughout the world, you must surely see that the hour for reap ing is near at hand, if it has not already come." the invasion of english territory by the american crusaders was resented by the british theosophists. the advocates of universal brotherhood waged bitter warfare against each other in the newspapers and periodicals. it gradually resolved itself into a strug gle for supremacy between the two rival claimants for the mantle of madame blavatsky, mrs. annie besant and mrs. tingley. each pythoness ascended her sa cred tripod and hysterically denounced the other as an usurper, and false prophetess. annie besant sought to disprove the idea of madame blavatsky having re-incarnated herself in the body of mrs. tingley. she claimed that the late high priestess had taken up her earthly pilgrimage again in the person of a little hindoo boy, who lived somewhere on the banks of the ganges. the puzzling problem was this: if mrs. tingley was mme. blavatsky, where was mrs. tingley? oedipus would have gone mad trying to solve this sphinx riddle. the theosophical temple. 287 the crusade finished, mrs. tingley, with her purple banner returned to new york, where she was royally welcomed by her followers. in the wake of the amer ican adept came the irrepressible annie besant, ac companied by a sister theosophist, the countess con stance wachmeister. mrs. besant, garbed in a white linen robe of hindoo pattern, lectured on occult sub jects to crowded houses in the principal cities of the east and west. in the numerous interviews accord ed her by the press, she ridiculed the blavatsky tingley re-incarnation theory. by kind permission of the new york herald, i reproduce a portrait of mrs. tingley. the reader will find it interesting to compare this sketch with the photograph of madame blavatsky given in this book. he will notice at once how much the two occulists do resemble each other; both are grossly fat, puffy of face, with heavy lidded eyes and rather thick lips. 7. the theosophical temple. if all the dreams of the theosophical society are fulfilled we shall see, at no distant date, in the state of california, a sombre and mysterious building, fash ioned after an egyptian temple, its pillars covered with hieroglyphic symbols, and its ponderous pylons 288 madame blavatsky. flanking the gloomy entrance. twin obelisks will stand guard at the gateway and huge bronze sphinxes stare the tourist out of countenance. the theosophi cal temple will be constructed "upon certain myster ious principles, and the numbers 7 and 13 will play a prominent part in connection with the dimensions of the rooms and the steps of the stairways." the hier ophants of occultism will assemble here, weird initia tions like those described in moore's "epicurean" will take place, and the doctrines of hindoo pantheism will be expounded to the faithful. the revival of the egyptian mysteries seems to be one of the objects -aimed at in the establishment of this mystical college. just what the egyptian mysteries were is a mooted question among egyptologists. but this does not bother the modern adept. mr. bucham harding, the leading exponent of theosophy mentioned above, says that within the temple the neophyte will be brought face to face with his own soul. "by what means cannot be revealed; but i may say that the object of initiation will be to raise the consciousness of the pupil to a plane where he will see and know his own divine soul and con sciously communicate with it. once gained, this the theosophical temple. 289 power is never lost. from this it can be seen that oc cultism is not so unreal as many think, and that the existence of soul is susceptible of actual demonstra tion. no one will be received into the mysteries until, by means of a long and severe probation, he has proved nobility of character. only persons having theosophical training will be eligible, but as any be liever in brotherhood may become a theosophist, all earnest truthseekers will have an opportunity of ad mission. 'the probation will be sufficiently severe to deter persons seeking to gratify curiosity from trying to enter. no trifler could stand the test. there will be a number of degrees. extremely few will be able to enter the highest, as eligibility to it requires eradica tion of every human fault and weakness. those strong enough to pass through this become adepts." the masonic fraternity, with its 33d degree and its elaborate initiations, will have to look to its laurels, as soon as the theosophical college of mystery is in good running order. everyone loves mysteries, espe cially when they are of the egyptian kind. caglios tro, the high priest of humbug, knew this when he evolved the egyptian rite of masonry, in the eight 290 madame blavatsky. eenth century. speaking of freemasonry, it is inter esting to note the fact, as stated by colonel olcott in "old diary leaves," that madame blavatsky and her coadjutors once seriously debated the question as to the advisability of engrafting the theosophical so ciety on the masonic fraternity, as a sort of higher de gree, masonry representing the lesser mysteries, modern theosophy the greater mysteries. but little encouragement was given to the priestess of isis by eminent freemasons, for masonry has always been the advocate of theistic doctrines, and opposed to the pan theistic cult. at another time, the leaders of theoso phy talked of imitating masonry by having degrees, an elaborate ritual, etc.; also pass words, signs and grips, in order that "one occult brother might know another in the darkness as well as in the astral light." this, however, was abandoned. the founding of the temple of magic and mystery in this country, with ceremonies of initiation, etc., seems to me to be a palingenesis of mme. blavatsky's ideas on the subject of occult masonry. 8. conclusions. the temple of modern theosophy, the foundation of which was laid by madame blavatsky, rests upon the conclusions. 291 truth of the mahatma stories. disbelieve these, and the entire structure falls to the ground like a house of cards. after the numerous exposures, recorded in the preceding chapters, it is difficult to place any reliance in the accounts of mahatmic miracles. there may, or may not, be sages in the east, acquainted with spirit ual laws of being, but that these masters, or adepts, used madame blavatsky as a medium to announce certain esoteric doctrines to the western world, is ex ceedingly dubious. the first work of any literary pretensions to call attention to theosophy was sinnett's "esoteric bud dhism." of that production, william emmette cole man says: " 'esoteric buddhism/ by a. p. sinnett, was based upon statements contained in letters received by mr. sinnett and mr. a. o. hume, through madame bla vatsky, purporting to be written by the mahatmas koot hoomi and morya principally the former. mr. richard hodgson has kindly lent me a considerable number of the original letters of the mahatmas that leading to the production of 'esoteric buddhism.' i find in them overwhelming evidence that all of them were written by madame blavatsky. in these letters are a 292 madame blavatsky. number of extracts from buddhist books, alleged to be translations from the originals by the mahatmic writers themselves. these letters claim for the adepts a knowledge of sanskrit, thibetan, pali and chinese. i have traced to its source each quotation from the buddhist scriptures in the letters, and they were all copied from current english translations, including even the notes and explanations of the english trans lators. they were principally copied from beat's 'ca tena of buddhist scriptures from the chinese.' in other places where the 'adept' is using his own lan guage in explanation of buddhistic terms and ideas, i find that his presumed original language was copied nearly word for word from rhys davids' 'buddhism,' and other books. i have traced every buddhistic idea in these letters and in 'esoteric buddhism,' and every buddhistic term, such as devachan, avitchi, etc., to the books whence helena petrovna blavatsky derived them. although said to be proficient in the knowl edge of thibetan and sanskrit the words and terms in these languages in the letters of the adepts were nearly all used in a ludicrously erroneous and absurd manner. the writer of those letters was an ignoramus in san skrit and thibetan ; and the mistakes and blunders in conclusions. 293 them, in these languages, are in exact accordance with the known ignorance of madame blavatsky concern ing these languages. 'esoteric buddhism/ like all of madame blavatsky's works, was based upon whole sale plagiarism and ignorance." madame blavatsky never succeeded in penetrating into thibet, in whose sacred "lamaseries" and temples fig. 40. madame blavatsky'9 autograph. dwell the wonderful mahatmas of modern theosophy, but william woodville rockhill, the american travel ler and oriental scholar, did, and we have a record of his adventures in "the land of the laas," published in 1891. while at serkok, he visited a famous mon astery inhabited by 700 lamas. he says (page 102): 294 madame blavatsky. 'they asked endless questions concerning the state of buddhism in foreign lands. they were astonished that it no longer existed in india, and that the church of ceylon was so like the ancient buddhist one. when told of our esoteric buddhists, the mahatmas, and of the wonderful doctrines they claimed to have obtained from thibet, they were immensely amused. they declared that though in ancient times there were, doubtless, saints and sages who could perform some of the miracles now claimed by the esoterists, none were living at the present day; and they looked upon this new school as rankly heretical, and as something ap proaching an imposition on our credulity." "isis unveiled/' and the "secret doctrine," by ma dame blavatsky, are supposed to contain the completest exposition of theosophy, or the inner spiritual meaning of the great religious cults of the world, but, as we have seen, they are full of plagiarisms and garbled state ments, to say nothing of "spurious quotations from buddhist sacred books, manufactured by the writer to embody her own peculiar views, under the fictitious guise of genuine buddhism." this last quotation from coleman strikes the keynote of the whole sub ject. esoteric buddhism is a product of occidental conclusions. 295 manufacture, a figment of madame blavatsky's ro mantic imagination, and by no means represents the truth of oriental philosophy. as max mueller, one of the greatest living oriental scholars, has repeatedly stated, any attempt to read into oriental thought our western science and phil osophy or to reconcile them, is futile to a degree; the two schools are as opposite to each other, as the nega tive and positive poles of a magnet, orientalism repre senting the former, occidentalism, the latter. oriental philosophy with its indeterminate being (or pure nothing as the absolute) ends in the utter negation of everything and affords no clue to the secret of the uni verse. if to believe that all is maya, (illusion), and that to be one with brahma (absorbed like the rain drop in the ocean) constitutes the summum bonum of thinking, then there is no explanation of, or use for, evolution or progress of any kind. the effect of hindoo phil osophy has been stagnation, indifferentism, and, as a result, the hindoo has no recorded history, no science, no art worthy the name. compared to it see what greek philosophy has done: it has transformed the western world: starting with self-determined being, reason, self-activity, at the heart of the universe, and 296 madame blavatsky. the creation of individual souls by a process of evolu tion in time and space, and the unfolding of a splendid civilization are logical consequences. in the east, it is the destruction of self-hood; in the west the de struction of selfishness, and the preservation of self hood. many noted theosophists claim that modern theo sophy is not a religious cult, but simply an exposition of the esoteric, or inner spiritual meaning of the great religious teachers of the world. let me quote what solovyoff says on this point: "the theosophical society shockingly deceived those who joined it as members, in reliance on the regula tions. it gradually grew evident that it was no uni versal scientific brotherhood, to which the followers of all religions might with a clear conscience belong, but a group of persons who had begun to preach in their organ, the theosophist, and in their other publications, a mixed religious doctrine. finally, in the last years of madame blavatsky's life, even this doctrine gave place to a direct and open propaganda of the most or thodox exoteric buddhism, under the motto of 'our lord buddha/ combined with incessant attacks on chris tianity. * * * now, in 1893, as the direct effect conclusions. 297 of this cause, we see an entire religious movement, we see a prosperous and growing plantation of buddhism in western europe." as a last word, let me add that if, in my opinion, modern theosophy has no right to the high place it claims in the world of thought, it has performed its share in the noble fight against the crass materialism of our day, and, freed from the frauds that have too long darkened its poetical aspects, it may yet help to diffuse through the world the pure light of brotherly love and spiritual development. list of works consulted in the preparation of this volume aksakoff, alexander n. animism and spirit ism ; an attempt at a critical investigation of mediumistic phenomena, with special reference to the hypotheses of hallucination and of the unconscious ; an answer to dr. e. von hartmann's work, "der spiritismus." 2 vols. leip sic, 1890. 8vo. (a profoundly interesting work by an im partial russian savant. judicial, critical and scientific.) azam, dr. hypnotisms et alterations de la per sonnalite. paris, 1887. 8vo. bbrnhbim, hippolyte. suggestive therapeutics: a study of the nature and use of hypnotism. translated from the french. new york, 1889. 4to. binbt, a.. and fere, c. animal magnetism. trans lated from the french. new york, 1888. blavatsky, madamb helenb pbtrovna hahn hahn. isis unveiled : a master-key to the mysteries of ancient and modern science and theology. 6th ed. new york, 1891. 2 vols. 8vo. (a heterogeneous mass of poorly digested quotations from writers living and dead, with running remarks by mme. blavatsky. a hodge-podge of magic, masonry, and oriental witchcraft. pseudo-scientific.) the secret doctrine : the synthesis of science, religion, and philosophy. 2 vols. new york, 1888. 8vo. (philosophicalin character. a reading of western thought into oriental religions and symbolisms. so-called quota tions from the "book of dzyan," manufactured by the ingenious mind of the authoress.) crocq fii.s, dr. l'hypnotisme. paris, 1896. 4to. (an exhaustive work on hypnotism in all its phases. ) 298 crookes, william. researches in the phenom ena of spiritualism. london, 1876. 8vo, (pamphlet). psychic force and modern spiritualism. london, 1875. 8vo, (pamphlet). (very interesting exposition of ex periments made with d. d. home, the spirit medium. ) davenport, r. b. death blow to spiritualism: true story of the fox sisters. new york, 1888. 8vo. dessoir, max. the psychology of legerdemain. open court, vol. vii. garrett, edmund. isis very much unveiled : being the story of the great mahatma hoax. london, 1895. 8vo. gasparin, comte agenor de. des tables tour nantes, du surnaturel et des esprits. paris, 1854. 8vo. gatchell, charles. the methods of mind-readers. forum, vol. xi, pp. 192-204. gibier, dr. paul. le spiritisme (fakirisme occidental). etude historique, critique et experimentale. paris, 1889. 8vo. gurney, e., myers, f w., and podmore, f. phan tasms of the living. 2 vols. london, 1887. (embodies the investigations of the society for psychical research into spiritualism, telepathy, thought-transference, etc.) hammond, dr. w. h. spiritualism and nervous de rangement. new york, 1876. 8vo. hardinge-brittan, emma. history of spiritualism. new york. 4to. hart, ernest. hypnotism, mesmerism and the new witchcraft. london, 1893 8vo, (scientific and critical. anti-spiritualistic in character.) home, d. d. lights and shadows of spiritualism. new york, 1878. 8vo. hudson, thomas jay. the law of psychic phenom ena. new york, 1894. 8vo. a scientific demonstration of the future life. chicago, 1895. 8vo. 299 james, william. psychology. new york, 1892. 8vo, 2 vols. jastrow, joseph. involuntary movements. popular science monthly, vol. xl, pp. 743-750. (interesting account of experiments made in a psychological laboratory to demon strate ''the readiness with which normal individuals may be made to yield evidence of unconscious and involuntary processes. ' throws considerable light on muscle-reading, planchette-writing, etc.) the psychology of deception. popular science monthly, vol. xxxiv, pp. 145-157. the psychology of spiritualism. popular science monthly, vol. xxxiv, pp. 721-732. (a series of articles of great value to students of psychical research.) krafft-ebing, r. experimental study in the do main of hypnotism. new york, 1889. leaf, walter. a modern priestess of isis; abridged and translated on behalf of the society for psychical research, from the russian of vsevolod s. solovyoff. london. 1895. 8vo. lill1e, arthur. madame blavatsky and her theos ophy. london, 1896. 8vo. lippitt, f. j. physical proofs of another life: letters to the seybert commission. washington, d. c., 1888. 8vo. macaire, sid. mind-reading, or muscle-reading ? london, 1889. moll, albert. hypnotism. new york, 1892. 8vo. mattison, rev. h. spirit-rapping unveiled. an ex pose of the origin, history theology and philosophy of cer tain alleged communications from the spiritual world by means of ''spirit-rapping,'' * 'medium writing, ' 'physical demonstrations." etc, new york, 1855. 8vo. myers, f w. h science and a future life, and other essays. london, 1891 8vo. ochorowicz, dr. j. mental suggestion (with a preface by prof. charles richet). from the french by j. fitz gerald. new york, 1891. 8vo. olcott, henry s. old diary leaves. new york, 1895, 8vo. (full of wildly improbable incidents in the career of madame blavatsky. valuable on account of its namerous quotations from american journals concerning the early history of the theosophical movement in the united states.) podmore, frank s. apparitions and thought transference : examination of the evidence of telepathy. new york, 1894. 8vo. (a thoughtful scientific work on a profoundly interesting subject.) revelations of a spirit medium ; or, spiritual istic mysteries exposed, st. paul, minn., 1891. 8vo. (one of the best exposes of physical phenomena published.) robert-houdin, j. e the secrets of stage con juring. from the french, by prof. hoffmann. new york, 1 88 1. 8vo, (a full account of the performances of the davenport bros, in paris, by the most famous of con temporary conjurers.) roark, rurick n. psychology in education. new york, 1895. 8vo. rockhill, wm. w. the land of the lamas. new york, 1891. 8vo. seybert commission on spiritualism. prelim inary report. new york, 1888. 8vo. (absolutely anti spiritualistic. the psychical phases of the subject not con sidered.) sidgwick, mrs. h. article spiritualism " in "en cyclopaedia britannica," vol. 22. (an excellent re sum of spiritualism, its history and phenomena.) sinnett, a. p. (ed.) incidents in the life of mme. blavatsky. london, 1886. 8vo, (interesting, but replete with wildly improbable incidents, etc. of little value as a life of the famous occultist.) 301 the occult world. london, 1885. 8vo. esoteric buddhism. london, 1888. 8vo. society for psychical research: proceedings. vols. i-n. [1882-95.] london, 1882-95. 8vo. (the most exhaustive researches yet set on foot by impartial inves tigators. scientific in character, and invaluable to the student. psychical phases of spiritualism mostly dealt with.) truesdell, john w. the bottom facts concerning the science of spiritualism : derived from careful in vestigations covering a period of twenty-five years. new york, 1883. 8vo. (anti-spiritualistic. exposes of physical phenomena : psychography, rope-tests, etc. of its kind, a valuable contribution to the literature of the subject.) weatherly, dr. l. a., and maskelyne, j. n. the supernatural. bristol, eng., 1891. 8vo. willmann, carl. moderne wunder. leipsic, 1892. 8vo. (contains interesting accounts of dr. slade's berlin and leipsic experiences. it is written by a professional conjurer. anti-spiritualistic.) woodbury, walter e. photographic amusements. new york, 1896. 8vo. (contains some interesting accounts of so-called spirit photography.) 302 return to the circulation desk of any university of california library or to the northern regional library facility bldg. 400, richmond field station university of california richmond, ca 94804-4698 all books may be recalled after 7 days 2-month loans may be renewed by calling (510)642-6753 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books to nrlf renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date. due as stamped below hov152002 12,000(11/95) 318 275 harvard college library miae 品​呂 ​acade olstih ts! illvm from the bright legacy. one half the income from this legacy, which was received in 1880 under the will of jonathan brown bright of waltham, massachusetts, is to be expended for books for the college library. the other half of the income is devoted to scholarships in harvard uni. versity for the benefit of descendants of henry bright, jr., who died at watertown, massachusetts, in 1686. in the absence of such descendants, other persons are eligible to the scholarships. the will requires that this announcement shall be made in every book added to the library under its provisions. 111 ! why til שתכתוואי vindt “there dashed suddenly past us, in the rear of the blazing fire, a white horse bearing a gigantic female form with flowing garments and long white hair." john's alive; or, the bride of a ghost, and other sketches. by major jones, of pineville, ga., major jones's courtship," major jones's travels," etc., etc. author op ten original full-page illustrations, by h. t. cariss. philadelphia: david mckay, no. 23 south ninth street. 1883 al 3637.7.15 copyright, 1883, by david mckay. marvard college lbp preface. the sketches of which this book is composed, were written by the late colonel william t. thompson, whose reputation as the author of the inimitable and popular major jones's courtship is national. they are based upon incidents of his personal experience, and were prepared by him to pass away a few leisure hours, after his death, these sketches were carefully sought for, and collected as a labor of love, by his daughter, mrs. m. a. wade, who conceived the idea of publishing them in their present shape. the sketches, while written in a humorous vein, are not in the rustic georgia dialect, and the style is somewhat different from that adopted in the work that made the name of “major jones” famous; nevertheless his friends will have no difficulty in recognizing in them the creations of the same genius. with the hope and confidence that the sketches will meet with a kind and pleasurable reception from the publid at large on their literary merit, it is believed that (v) vi prefacr. many will find an additional interest in the historical incidents related of the florida campaign against the seminole indians, in which the author was a participant. the pathetic background of truth, but half hidden behind the humorous fancies of the writer, will add much to their value in the eyes of those who would find instruction even in their hours of recreation. contents. john's alive, or the bride of a ghost; being a true history of true love. page chapter i.—john commences his narrative-declines giving the usual pedigree, but sets off at once with his story-offers a plea in extenuation of his prevailing faults-a brief allusion to his youth-a description of his first and only love-elysian days-rivalry-coquetry-jealousy-lovers' quarrels—the party-mr. thaw's daguerreotype the caricature-hitting a profile-the ladies' manblighted hopes-despondency, . 17 — chapter ii.-john's malady increases until it becomes a settled melancholy-lackadaisical philosophy-revenge meditated -thoughts of suicide-funeral procession-the graveyarda plan conceived—the farewell letter-graveyard at midnight—the doctors surprised— the interview-bribery—the resurrection–the dutchman and the corpse-drowning by proxy, 34 chapter iii.—john's compunctions of conscience-the announcement in the papers-wavers in his purpose-conflicting emotions-attends his own funeral --makes many interesting observations there-determines to leave philadelphia–his departure for new york-doleful reflections—sails for new orleans-sea-sickness—the dandy-the lieutenant's remedy -john's preventive_happy effects of the voyage, . 45 . (vii) contents. page : 59 . 68 chapter iv.-john tries merchandising in new orleans-soon relapses into his former despondency-seeks to “ drown it in the bowl”-gets into a fight on the levee—is lodged in the calaboose-with difficulty obtains his release fortunes at a low ebb-sans money, sans friends, saps everything—enlists in the army of general gaines—sails for florida—improved state of feeling, the effect of hard marching-human nature with the bark off-camp courtesy-dade's battle-groundjohn's partiality for the general expressed, chapter v.—the withlacoochee the first fight-john's peculiar sensations on that occasion—the second encounter-attack in the breastworks—the music of a rifle-ball an exception to the rule-seminole dentistry-battle at night-john is.wounded short rations and hard fighting-desperate onset—the armistice-the council-a dainty morsel—the surprise—the relief-return to camp smith, chapter vi.-john becomes weary of camp life--expedient for relieving its monotony--the bunting party–florida scenery -a mimic eden-the rural lounge-thoughts of pastoral life-influence of association-mankind an elementpastoral recreation—the attack-the escape-night in the swampsearch for the camp—the surprise-thé chase-john becomes amphibious, chapter vii.—john emerges from his concealment-fever-delirium insensibility recovery --despondency--reviving influence of the brightening dawn-morning repast“a new feeling-his wanderings-second night in the wildernessdreams-the evening gun-arrival at the st. johns-joyful emotions on first reaching the army-surgical operation-rule for estimating degrees of pain-recovery-reflections upon the past — reformation resolved upon return to philadelphia,. . 76 89 contents. page chapter viii.—john determines to reconnoitre before making himself known-ascertains that his family are all still living visits mary's residencediscovers his old rival in the act of pressing his suit—the ghost acts an important part-mr. thaw's encounter with the ghost-his discomfiture, 100 chapter ix.-john begins to apprehend that he is carrying the joke too far-seeks an interview with an old friend—with difficulty establishes his own identity, and engages him to prepare his family for his reception—the meeting-convinces mary that he is no ghost-discovers a new relative—the weddingday appointed-two grooms to one bride-the wedding-the ghost again—the astonished parson—the explanation–the consummation-the end, 113 1 . going ashore,. 125 recollections of the florida campaign of 1836. number one.—the alarm, . 139 number two.-return from the prairie-moonlight scene-burial of the dead, 148 number three.-picket guard—stormy night-soug quarters patrick fagan and the georgia stag, 159 number four.-fort drane-night in camp-patrick fagan and phelim o'brien-johnny hogan and the ghost, . 175 number five.—the general's horse, . 187 what happened in the sugar camps of the mahoning valley, 197 . . the burglars of iola; a frontier sketch. chapter i., 219 chapter ii., 233 chapter iii., 242 chapter iv., . 254 . . . . list of illustrations. page c "there dashed suddenly past us, in the rear of the blazing fire, a white horse bearing a gigantic female form with flowing garments and long white hair," frontispiece. " “i'll try my hand at your profile," 30 “ ain't this ship turning around, mister?” 54 "i grasped him by the ankles and ... tossed him into the street," 108 “john's alive! i exclaimed, as the door flew open,” 121 . “a faint 'oh lordy!' from mr. hill was succeeded by a cry of 'man overboard,'” 133 “a form, whose snowy whiteness was even discernible in the darkness of the night, came crawling out at the open end of the barrel,” 165 . > “i beg your pardon, mr. fagan," 170 “sthop, gintlemen, its all gone; divil the drop's left in the world," 179 “good morning, to your night-cap," 252 (i) john's alive or the bride of a ghost: being a true history of true love. chapter i. john commences his narrativedeclines giving the usual pedigree, but sets off at once with his story-offers a plea in extenuation of his prevailing faults—a brief allusion to his youth-a description of his first and only love-elysian days–rivalry-coquetryjealousy-lovers' quarrels—the party-mr. thaw's daguerreotype-the caricature-hitting a profile-the lady's man-blighted hopes—despondency. i know that it is customary, in writing one's own narrative, for the author to set out with what might be called a complete pedigree of himself; or, in other words, to put his readers to sleep over a detailed and circumstantial account of his life, birth, parentage, etc. but as i write neither for honor nor profit, but am prompted solely by the desire of doing good to others, by exhibiting to the world the consequences resulting from the unrestricted indulgence 2 (17) 18 major jones. of a rash, impetuous temper, i shall dispense with a formality which i conceive would add nothing to the character or interest of the following veritable history, and leaving my venerable ancestors to repose in the peaceful oblivion to which mortality has long since consigned them, shall proceed to cultivate an acquaintance with the reader on my own account. i do not deserve, nor do i expect, gentle reader, to escape your censure. i know that your good sense will often be shocked at my rashness and folly; and i take this early opportunity of putting in, as a plea in extenuation of my greatest foiblemy stubborn waywardness of dispositionthe fact that i was the only son of fond and far too indulgent parents, and that the sad experience and extraordinary vicissitudes through which i have passed, were probably as necessary to teach me that degree of humility which should temper the disposition of every rational being, as is the training and chastening which others receive in early life, from their more discreet and well-judging guardians. though you will doubtless feel constrained to condemn the spirit which prompted many of my acts and the judgment which dictated others, i trust that you will concede in the end that i have received my full deserts. before proceeding with my narrative, it will be necessary to premise that i was born in philadelphia, as that city of brotherly love,” as it is often miscalled, is to be the theatre of much of my eventful history. with the reader's john's alive. 19 a permission and i take it for granted—i will skip over a period of about sixteen years, during which time, as a matter of course, i passed through the various vicissitudes of babyhood, childhood, and boyhood, and leaving the recollections of that happy period of my existence where they are, enshrined in the inmost recesses of my heart, amid the brightest memories of the past, i will take up the thread of my hapless story at that period of my life, when the bitter' waters of experience first became mingled in my sparkling cup of dreamy hopes. i had reached my seventeenth year, and not a single incident had occurred to cast a shadow upon the bright sunshine of my existence. at that period the future was, as it ever is with youth, all bright and glowing-in the past there was nothing to regret, and the present was but the ecstasy of unalloyed enjoyment. but, ah! how little does he know of the wild tempest and rugged waves he is doomed to encounter in his voyage upon life's ocean, who turns his tiny sail upon the glassy tide, and watches the gentle ripple of the placid river playing in the sunbeam. as i have said, i was in my seventeenth year, when i fell in love! start not, gentle reader—for though love was the rock upon which i split, the catastrophe is more to be attributed to my own unskilful navigation, than to the dangers of the ocean upon which my barque was launched. it is an old saying that “ the course of true love never did run smooth.” mine was a case in point, and i will leave it to 2 20 major jones. we had grown the reader's candor to say whether the progress of my affair does not abundantly verify the adage. my mary was an object to love. in person she was the very embodiment of youthful perfection—in mind all i could wish-and in disposition, so kind, so confiding, so amiable !-to know her was to love her. up together-our families had long been intimate, and as she had no brother, i bad, when we were children, filled the place of one in her regard, and now that we were older, that feeling had strengthened to a still more tender sentiment, and that sentiment was mutual. she became my idol—the theme of my constant thought. her society was my only enjoyment-1 sought no other, and was only completely happy when in her presence, or when, in her absence, i cherished the fond belief that she felt towards me the same devoted, jealous attachment. mary was but just entering her fifteenth year. she had not as yet made her entrée into society, and of course bad not yet inhaled the pestilential atmosphere of fashion. she knew not yet what it was to be admired—to be flattered, and her ingenuous heart had never counted the power of her superior charms, nor throbbed to the emotion of female vanity. such was the gentle creature to whom i had plighted my faith, and from whom i had received a vow in return to be none other's but mine. is it to be wondered that i loved her ardently? we were young, but we looked forward with bright anticipation to the period when our joan's alive. 21 union was to be consummated; and when, arm-in-arm we ! sauntered through washington square, or strolled by the banks of the schuylkill, beneath the bright moonlight, we spoke of the future with the same frankness with which we had plighted our mutual loves. a year of such elysian days passed speedily off; but we were now no longer children. we had made our debut, and as we yielded to the requirements of fashionable life, in our deportment before the world, i did not fail to notice a material change in the character of my mary. she seemed to receive my marked attentions, especially when in company with others of her sex, with an air of triumph, and to delight, whenever opportunity presented, in awakening my suspicion of her want of fidelity and attachment. such was my jealous nature that i not unfrequently manifested my displeasure on such occasions. indeed i was too selfish in my passion to allow her that freedom of action which her own good sense informed her she had a right to enjoy, and which prudence and common delicacy dictated that she should exercise. frequently were my feelings wrought upon, when in truth there was but slight cause; and as often what are called “lovers' quarrels” ensued between us, which, of course, as all such quarrels do, ended in re newed protestations of immutable attachment from both. “ john,” said she one evening, as we were returning from a music party, which we had attended at fairmount, “what makes you so serious ?” . 22 major jones. " "oh, nothing," i replied, with a suppressed sigh, as if i thought more than i felt disposed to say. “ah, john, you are too jealous,” said mary, with an ominous shake of her pretty head. “ jealous !-oh, no, i'm not jealous; i'm the last man to be jealous. what makes you think so ?” why, you seemed so melancholy all the evening, after i sung that duet with mr. thaw." “p'shaw! you only thought so; that was nothing to be melancholy about.” “yes, you did—the girls all said so; and you don't know how they plagued me about it. they said you looked like you could eat him up.” “well, i don't like that thaw; he's so impudent and such a consummate dandy.” “he sings beautifully though; doesn't he ?” “he sings like a strolling player," i remarked, with affected indifference. “and then he's so graceful!" “he has some mountebank flourishes,” replied i, with difficulty concealing my agitation. “well, he's pretty.” that was enough! i could have strangled him had he been before me at that moment. it was not the first time he had aroused my jealousy, and he had rendered himself peculiarly annoying to me during the past evening. then, to hear such compliments lavished upon him by her, was john's alive. 23 > more than i could bear. we walked some distance before i could sufficiently subdue my feelings to utter a reply. then, in a voice that betrayed my agitation, i remarked perhaps, miss mary, new faces appear to better advantage than those that have grown familiar. it may do for faces, but i would advise you to adopt a different rule when you come to make a choice of hearts.' “ miss mary!” she exclaimed, and casting her large blue eyes to my face, with an arch smile. you are not jealous, then-ah, no, you're the last man to be jealous ! now, what did i tell you, john? you are jealous, and of mr. thaw, whom i never saw before this evening." then, assuming a soft and more serious tone, she continued, “john, do you think_" , “i didn't think you were in earnest, i interrupted," , i my respiration coming freer, and my heart leaping with glad emotions as i pressed the little hand that had somehow or other become locked in mine. "ah, john, you were jealous, and you ought to be" “i'm convinced, my dear mary, and—” “you ought to be ashamed, i mean. why, the greeneyed monster will eat you up before we're married, if there is any truth in shakespeare.” i confessed the truth, but plead my love for her in extenuation of my fault, and promised never to be jealous again. 'but,” i continued, "you must promise me that > 24 major jones. you will give no more encouragement to thaw. he knows i despise him, and seeks to annoy me by thrusting himself in your society." “i must treat him with politeness, you know, so long as he is respectful to me. but as to any farther considera. tion from me, he has as little to hope as you have to fear." thus ended one of our many quarrels. we were soon at her father's residence, a neat little cottage near the upper end of arch street, and, as it was late, i parted with her at the door, and directed my steps homeward, with a light heart, since i no longer regarded beau thaw as a rival in the affections of the angelic being i had just left. but i was not long to enjoy the delightful calm to my fears, which succeeded. the truth is, i had by my own indiscretion contributed to spoil one of the sweetest tempers that ever was perverted and ruined by admiration and flattery, and i now began to suffer the consequences of my folly. mary did derive a secret pleasure from teasing me. like most of her sex who possess any claim to personal beauty, she was not entirely destitute of vanity, and like far too many, could not resist the temptation to gratify that vanity, by testing the power of those charms, even at the cost of the severest inflictions upon my feelings. many were the little coquetries and mischievous flirtations in order to exhibit the abject vassalage in which she held my joan's alive. 25 a affections; and many and severe were the tests to which her arts had subjected me. one evening, not long after our fairmount excursion, i accompanied mary to the house of an acquaintance, where a large number of young ladies and gentlemen were assembled. on entering the parlor, i was not a little annoyed at hearing the squeaking voice of mr. thaw, who was striding about the room, bowing and scraping, grinning and chattering, as if he desired to monopolize the attention of all the ladies present. but i was still more vexed soon after, by his incessant attentions to mary, who, i thought, considering what had passed between us in relation to that gentleman, was entirely too affable in her encouragement of those attentions. it was not a dancing party, but one of those social evening assemblies at which young people generally engage in unmeaning plays and romps, fit only for children, or pass the time in exchanging "small talk," for neither of which amusements i had much relish, but, with a view of making myself as agreeable as possible, i adopted the latter as the choice of two evils. i, however, soon found it impossible to entertain even mary, while mr. thaw was the master of ceremonies. fectly au fait in all the little games usually performed on such occasions, and introduced many new fooleries, much to the gratification of the company. and then he was such a ready poet, and could say, . he was per26 major jones. “well, here i be, under this tree, miss mary c., come and kiss me,” a in a style so unique, and always had something so pithy to whisper in the ladies' ears, and made such rare comparisons, that he soon became the “ observed of all observers," totally eclipsing every other gallant in the room. mary readily comprehended the expression of my countenance. a single look of reproach from me, and a few of her new admirer's prettiest compliments sufficed to excite her vanity; and, encouraged by mr. thaw, she had in the course of the evening wrought me up to such a pitch of jealousy that it was with difficulty i could restrain my emotion in the presence of the company. . as it grew late, and after all the usual amusements had been exhausted, the company became seated around the room. conversation was flagging, when mr. thaw, in the exuberance of his inventive genius, struck upon a novel plan of entertaining the company for an hour longer. “ ladies," said he, perhaps you have not hearil of the new science recently invented, called the daguerreotype. i can assure you that it is a very wonderful art, by which enabled to portray the human face divine (here he · hemmed once) with the most marvellous accuracy. i shall be very happy to explain the principle by taking copies of some of the beautiful faces, the brilliancy of whose charms john's alive. 27 > illuminate this room.” after which speech, he cast a conceited look around the room, as much as to say, “ that's me.” “oh, you do flatter the ladies so much, mr. thaw," remarked the ugliest girl in the room. mr. thaw bowed and smiled, and brought his hand to his lips, then placed it upon his heart and bowed again. “the truth is no flattery, miss julia," said he. miss julia primped her mouth and smiled back at mr. thaw. “light and shade are the principles of the science,” continued mr. thaw, with the air of a modern lecturer," and though it has not yet been brought to perfection, enough is known to establish the great utility of the art. i will illustrate it to you, ladies, if you please.” mr. thaw then took a sheet of white paper from the table and tacking it to the papered wall, requested one of the ladies to sit for her profile, the outline of which he traced with a crayon-pencil as it was reflected upon the paper. thus mr. thaw went on illustrating the daguerreotype, accompanying his performances with a torrent of silly gab, at which the ladies laughed exceedingly, until nearly all the company had been supplied with their profiles. he was quite skilful with the pencil, and though he occasionally amused himself by slightly caricaturing some of the gentlemen, most of his profiles were well drawn. at length i was pressed in my turn to sit for my profile, 28 major jones. . a and as none had refused i could not well decline. the light was placed in its proper position, and mr. thaw commenced to adjust my head in a suitable attitude. “hold up your head, if you please, mr. smith,” said he, in a very polite tone; "turn your face a little more to the left-a le-e-tle more, if you please—there, that will do, now shut your mouth, if you please, mr. smith,—that's it, now hold steady, mr. smith.” all was quite still, and i could hear the scratching of the pencil upon the paper. presently i heard a suppressed laugh, which seemed to pervade the whole company. don't move, if you please, mr. smith, or you'll spoil it,” said mr. thaw. my position was such that i could not see him without moving my head. mary was sitting directly before me, and i observed her face became flushed as the laughing increased. i thought she looked excited. in a few moments mr. thaw announced that it was done. “ ladies and gentlemen,"continued he, “what do you think of the likeness ?” i turned, and beheld him pointing to the picture of an ass's head, with ponderous ears, and mouth distended, as if in the act of braying. the blood rushed to my temples, but the whole company were convulsed with laughter, and with a second thought i endeavored to laugh too, though it was decidedly an up-bill business. my ears burned, and i thought my laugh sounded more like a bray-it cera we 场 ​(30) “i'll try my hand at your profile.” john's alise. 31 a + tainly did not come from the fountain of mirth; but i might have forced it for a time perhaps, had not the triumphant artist, in the vebemence of his exultation, carried the joke a little too far. observing mary, who was laughing with the rest, he remarked, holding up the drawing to view: “i must have your opinion, miss mary ; don't you think i've hit the gentleman's features ?” “oh, of course, i think it a capital likeness,” exclaimed mary, turning toward me with a searching look. thaw chuckled at her reply, with a meaning grin which i well comprehended. this was too much-my blood hissed in my veins. choking with rage, i exclaimed:“ tu try my hand at your profile," and with a blow full in the face, i sent the gentleman sprawling among the chairs i and tables. there was a sudden rush, and a loud scream from the ladies. the aspect of affairs was changed in an instant. “why, john!"exclaimed mary, grasping me by the arm, after the first panic had somewhat subsided, “why, john, i'm astonished at you!” i already regretted what i had done, but it was too late. i had disfigured mr. thaw's profile, and my rage had changed to chagrin. i grasped my hat, while mr. thaw, with his handkerchief to his bleeding nose, was muttering something about “d—d ungenteel in the presence of ladies, pistols at ten paces,” etc., to which i made no reply, but 2 (30) ( “i'll try my band at your profile.” john's alice. 31 tainly did not come from the fountain of mirth; but i ; might have forced it for a time perhaps, had not the triumphant artist, in the vehemence of his exultation, carried the joke a little too far. observing mary, who was laughing with the rest, he remarked, holding up the drawing to view: “i must have your opinion, miss mary ; don't you think i've hit the gentleman's features ?” “oh, of course, i think it a capital likeness,” exclaimed mary, turning toward me with a searching look. thaw chuckled at her reply, with a meaning grin which i well comprehended. this was too much—my blood hissed in my veins. choking with rage, i exclaimed: “ pu try my hand at your profile,” and with a blow full in. the face, i sent the gentleman sprawling among the chairs and tables. there was a sudden rush, and a loud scream from the ladies. the aspect of affairs was changed in an instant. “why, john!"exclaimed mary, grasping me by the arm, after the first panic had somewhat subsided," why, john, i'm astonished at you!” i already regretted what i had done, but it was too late. i had disfigured mr. thaw's profile, and my rage had changed to chagrin. i grasped my hat, while mr. thaw, with his handkerchief to his bleeding nose, was muttering something about “d-d ungenteel in the presence of ladies, pistols at ten paces,” etc., to which i made no reply, but a 32 major jones. passed to the door, amidst the confusion i had occasioned. the ladies were throwing on their shawls and bonnets. mary followed me to the door. i turned from her. “john," she asked, in an earnest tone of voice, "are you going?” “yes," i replied doggedly. "john!" repeated mary, with something of supplication in her tone. “never mind, miss mary," i replied, "you nor mr. thaw shall ever make a laughing-stock of me again.” and with this sullen speech i walked off, leaving her to get home as best she might. through the interposition of my sisters, who were mary's most intimate friends, i had an interview with her on the following evening, but i was in no mood to effect a reconciliation with her upon equitable terms. i upbraided her with her want of fidelity, which i considered was abundantly evinced by her partiality for mr. thaw, and calling to my aid all the firmness of my stubborn nature, i assured her that i was determined no longer to be the dupe of a heartless coquette. at first the ingenuous girl endeavored to explain her conduct on the previous evening, denying any agency in mr. thaw's attempt to throw me into ridicule, and expressing her disapprobation of that gentleman's general deportment; but finding that i was disposed to attach an importance to her acts which she conceived they did not merit, and that john's alive. 33 in my pique i required her to make acknowledgments too bumiliating for her to concede, her spirit became aroused, and i suddenly beheld my once gentle, simple-hearted mary transformed into the proud and indignant belle. i soon discovered that my selfish jealousy together with my impetuous temper had urged me to an unjustifiable extremity, and the consciousness that i deserved to lose the esteem of her i loved added its poignancy to my feelings. to increase my mortification, my evil genius thaw, so soon as he had recovered from his black eye, renewed his officious attentions to mary, and seemed to derive satisfaction for the injury i had done him, by exulting in the ruin he had wrought to my peace and happiness. mr. thaw was precisely what is meant by the term “a ladies' man." a i will not attempt a particular description of him, for who has not seen a ladies' man? the genus is confined to no particular meridian, and their distinguishing characteristics are too well known as the opposites of everything manly and noble, to need a description. though by no means good-looking, he possessed all the requisite qualifications of an accomplished dandy, and having mingled much in female society, and studied well the art of pleasing the young and giddy of the sex, it is not to be wondered that i regarded his attentions to mary with a suspicious eye; or that she found it difficult to repulse them, even though she held his character in contempt. now that i was no longer her gallant, and we had absolved each other from our early vows, and 3 34 major jones. a exchanged rings and tokens, he became the ready instrument of her wounded pride, which prompted her to receive his addresses with much apparent satisfaction, when indeed she detested him from the bottom of her heart. for a time i affected the utmost indifference at the success of my rival; but a canker was gnawing at my heart which soon unmanned me of my strength, and i could no longer disguise the intensity of my suffering. i felt indeed the truth of bulwer's beautiful lines: “there is no anguish like the hour, whatever else befall us, when one the heart has raised to power asserts it but to gall us.” chapter ii. john's malady increases until it becomes a settled melancholy-lackadaisical philosophy-revenge meditated—thoughts of suicidefuneral procession-the graveyard a plan conceived-the farewell letter-graveyard at midnight—the doctors surprised–the interview-bribery–the resurrection—the dutchman and the corpse-drowning by proxy. in vain did mutual friends seek to effect a reconciliation. if i was obdurate and sullen, mary was not less proud and unyielding; and time only settled deeper and deeper the joan's alive. 35 sad melancholy to which i had become utterly abandoned. no exertion of my own, nor the playful railleries or friendly sympathies of my intimates could dispel the gloomy despondency of my thoughts. constitutionally of a sombre cast of mind, my meditations tended greatly to increase my mental malady, until my family began to entertain fears for my recovery. already had my health begun to fail, and it was seriously contemplated to submit me to medical treatment. but i did not desire convalescence. i began to enjoy a secret satisfaction in the thought that, let what might be the consequence, the worse the calamity, the more complete would be my revenge upon the treacherous fair one who had caused my distress. i agree with you, reader, that i was very silly for entertaining such a thought or for allowing myself to become such a very lackaday. but as that prince of lovers very gravely observes, “human natur's human natur, mr. curtis;" and such was my natur—the peculiar bent of my disposition. if, like him or me, you were ever“ balked in your perspiring passion,” you will be the better able to appreciate my feelings, and the more disposed to view my weakness with charity. one gloomy afternoon i rose from my seat before the grate,—from which i had poked the last blackening coal, as i sat meditating upon the various modes of suicide, and, pressing my hat nearly over my eyes, walked out into the street, and with my hands in my pockets, and my chin 36 major jones. • upon my breast, sauntered on, i cared not whither. what a glorious revenge it would be, thought i, as i pursued my ramble, to drown myself, and then haunt the cruel girl that had caused me such pain. but could ghosts return to this world? that was an important question. and then i wondered how it would feel to jump into the river at that season of the year. this problem was more readily solved by means of an illustration, for the next moment i stepped plash into the gutter, which was running ankle-deep with cold water! there was an end of my project of drowning, unless it might be done by proxy, which, after a little reflection, i discovered was by no means impracticable; and, as i only wished to indulge my revenge, such an expedient would answer my purpose infinitely better than if i were to put an end to my life in reality. i had only to deposit a portion of my clothing upon the wharf, to write a letter to mary, declaring my intention, and to absent myself from the city, in order to establish my death, and then, should she relent, i would be alive to enjoy my triumph. my mind was made up to the deed, and my thoughts were busied in arranging the preliminaries, when i was startled from my reverie by coming in contact with a lengthy funeral procession. i was just in the vein to attend a funeral, and as it passed, i fell into the train, without knowing whose mortal remains i was following to their long home. as we proceeded to ronaldson's beautiful buryingground, i learned that the deceased was a young man of a joan's alive. 37. a > my acquaintance, who had died rather suddenly on the day previous. he was about my own age, and what was a little singular, we resembled each other so exactly in appearance, that those who were best acquainted with us could scarcely tell one from the other. he had lived in a different part of the city, and we were only slightly acquainted, but the circumstance of our near resemblance excited my sympathy for his death, and i was perhaps not the least sincere among the numerous train of mourners who attended him to the grave. after the solemn ceremony of depositing the body in the family vault was concluded, i lingered by the place so well suited to the gloomy tenor of my thoughts, and did not observe the departure of the procession. it was long after the sexton had closed the gates, and not until the marble monuments began to throw their lengthened shadows upon the cold ground, that i discovered that i was alone in that solemn place. suddenly arousing from my gloomy reverie i followed round the wall in search of a place by which to escape until i arrived at the northeast corner, where i discovered a board placed against the wall, by means of which i was enabled to gain the street. that board, which had doubtless been placed there by some resurrectionist, suggested an idea which capped the climax of the scheme upon which i had been meditating when my attention was attracted by the funeral, and i resolved at once to put my plan in execution that very night. a 38 major jones. accordingly i returned home, and going to my solitary room, wrote a long letter to mary, in which, after recurring in a very feeling manner to the many happy hours i had spent in her society, when i had indulged the fond hope that my love for her was not unrequited, i poured i forth the agony of my present feelings in a strain of eloquence which only the bitterness of my deep despair could prompt. then invoking the choicest blessings upon her, i freely forgave her past conduct towards me, bade her an . affectionate adieu, and concluded with the assurance that, ere she broke the seal of my farewell letter, the hand that inscribed it, and the heart that dictated it, would lie cold beneath the flood. leaving this precious production upon my table, duly addressed to “miss mary carson, arch street," i muffled myself in my cloak and sallied forth, unobserved by any member of the family, who, perhaps, owing to my strange deportment, had for some weeks past endeavored to keep a close watch upon my movements. i directed my steps to the old drawbridge, where i purchased a suit of sailor's clothes, in which disguise i then proceeded to the graveyard. i had provided myself with everything which i thought would be necessary for my expedition, such as a dark-lantern, a crowbar, a pair of pistols, and the suit of my own clothes which i had just taken off. the state-house clock struck twelve, as i approached the solemn city of the dead. at any other time my heart john's alive. 39 would have failed me in such a place and upon such an errand. but now i was insensible to every rational feeling. the romance of my nature was aroused by the bold and reckless enterprise in which i was embarked, and no consideration could sway me from its accomplishment. it was a cold, drizzling night, and so dark that i could scarce see the nearest objects, as i groped my way amid the solitary tombs, in the direction of the vault. as i approached near to the dreary charnel-house, whose low white marble walls were but just discernible in the midnight gloom, my blood curdled to my heart, and my hair sprang on end, as my ear caught a sound proceeding out of the vault. i stood fixed to the spot. the noise reached me again, and the next moment the low accents of a human voice fell upon my ear. my fears subsided, and i approached the low portal, when i perceived a dim ray of light proceeding from the crack in the door. a key was in the lock, which i noiselessly removed, and looking through the key-hole i discovered five men, whom i recog, nized to be doctors and students, who were about to make an examination of the body, which they had already removed from its coffin, and divested of its shroud. my course was soon determined. giving a sudden kick against the door, i exclaimed, in a feigned tone of voice: " touch it not!" in an instant the light was extinguished. oh, lord, let me out!” exclaimed one. a 40 major jones. “hush-h-h!" was breathed in a low whisper, and all was still. i was not a little vexed at the interruption to my plans which their presence had occasioned, and i resolved to screen myself from detection, if possible, by frightening them from the premises ; in order to do which, it became necessary for me to assume a character very much at vạriance with the nature of the business which had brought me to the spot. “oh, i've got you !" i exclaimed, “and you are dead men, every mother's son of you.” “let me out, let me out !" groaned a terrified student; “i had nothing to do with it, sir." “i don't care," i replied; “i was sent here to watch this vault, and i'm to get a hundred dollars for shooting any one whom i catch trying to steal that corpse—and i'll do it.” a brief pause ensued, during which i could overhear a suppressed whisper among the doctors. then a grim voice uttered in a louder tone: “gentlemen, we must defend ourselves from this ruffian; look to your arms. “oh, ho!” i exclaimed, in a swaggering tone, “is that your game? come on, then, you grave-robbin' hyenas ! draw your thumb-lancets and rattle your pill-boxes; bnt you can't skeer this child. you'll find me a six-gun battery, and ready for action.” a deep groan from within told the effect of this blustera john's alive. 41 ing speech. after another short pause, during which i could hear voices in low consultation, a voice from the tomb addressed me in a rather more pacific strain : “ you certainly will not be so rash as to commit violence upon unarmed men, when you must be aware that our only motive is the advancement of the medical science, and through it the good of the human species. we desire only to make an autopsical examination, and not to remove the body of_” "i don't care a d-n for your medical science, nor your autopsicals nother," i replied, affecting a stupid obstinacy; “if you want to larn anything as you don't know, go and cut ap dogs and cats, but don't go about robbing people's graves and cutting up human creatures. but you've done your last job in that way now, for i'll shoot every devil of you, and get a hundred dollars a-head for it too." “i'll give you ten times that amount to let me off,” said the student. “ will no consideration induce you to permit us to depart? we have not marred the corpse, and if say no more about it, you shall be well paid." i was aware that i had them completely in my power, for i knew that if they feared my threats, they feared exposure worse; and though i did not like the mercenary character ; i would be compelled to assume, yet it was necessary that i should make some such arrangement of the natter in order to screen myself. after some hesitation i conceded you will 42 major jones. to their own terms, which were, that they would put me in possession of everything they had of value about them, and even more if i required it, if i would permit them to depart unmolested, and keep their secret from the public. accordingly i allowed them to pass out, one at a time, each depositing in my hat as he passed, his watch, and such money as he had about his person; which to my surprise i afterwards found to be no inconsiderable amount. i soon found myself once more alone in the graveyard. to my great gratification, i discovered that my designs had been rather assisted than embarrassed by the interruption to my original plan. i now had no occasion to mutilate the door with my crowbar, as i was in possession of a key that would enable me to leave the premises in such a manner as not to excite suspicion of the vault having been opened ; and the coffin had been unscrewed and the corpse divested of its shroud and winding-sheet, ready to receive the clothes i had brought for it. i entered the vault, taking care to secure the key, and lighting my lantern, commenced to perform the offices of the toilette for the corpse which had just been so unceremoniously stripped of its ghostly attire by the doctors. having dressed the body in a full suit of my own clothes, and placed the coffin in its proper position, i sallied forth with my substitute in my arms. on reaching ninth street, which i did with some difficulty, owing to the high wall over which i had to clamber, i paused to see that the coast was clear and to arrange my plan of proceeding. a john's alive. 43 it was past one o'clock and the street was as silent as the gloomy inclosure i had just left. not a watchman was to be seen. taking the corpse upon my back underneath my cloak, i directed my steps towards the delaware. i had proceeded as far as the corner of ninth and pine streets, and had turned down the latter towards the river, when, just as i was passing the gloomy inclosure of the pennsylvania hospital, where there was no alley or court into which i might dodge, i heard the heavy boots of a watchman advancing to meet me what was to be done ? i could not pass without exciting his suspicions, nor could i outrun him with my burden, and to relinquish it there was to insure detection. the watchman was fast approaching, and nearly in sight, when i hit upon the only expedient that appeared at all practicable. i sat the corpse upon its feet, hastily threw my cloak about its shoulders and pulled my fur cap upon its head. it was cold and stiff, and stood erect with little assistance. as the honestvold guardian of the night approached, i commenced an altercation, supplying my companion's part of the dialogue in a feigned voice. after a little muttering, i broke out in a , louder tone, as i supported the corpse with one hand against the fire-plug, by which we were now standing, “you're a liar!"_“you're another!"_“i'll break your mouth!” _“you'd better try it, you puppy!"_“call me a puppy !" (here the footfalls of the watchman became more rapid) “take that, you infernal scoundrel!” then i а 44 major jones. my feet > affected several groans and grunts, and made as much noise as possible with my upon the pavement. “sthop dot! stbop dat viten !” exclaimed the old watchman, hastily approaching. when he had almost reached the spot, i relinquished my hold, and ran round the corner, leaving the corpse to confront the watchman. the stiffened body still stood nearly erect against the fire-plug, muffled in my cloak and cap, when the old dutchman grasped it by the collar, exclaiming“ah! you tam rascal; you shall go mit me; come, come, " no pullin pack, or i'll preak your heat.” at that moment the corpse, jostled from its equilibrium by the watchman's rudeness, swung round to the opposite side of the plug against which it was leaning. as it fell, and the infuriated dutchman thought was endeavoring to break away from his hold, he hit it a severe rap over the head with his mace, which dislodged the cap, and revealed, by the pale light of the expiring street lamp, its ghastly features. “ oh, mine got! mine got! vat ish i done!" exclaimed the horror-stricken dutchman, as he broke away up the street, impelled by the awful conviction that he had either captured an evil spirit or killed a human being. i could not refrain a hearty laugh, for the first time in a month, as the fast-receding sounds of the dutchman's wellnailed boots died away in the distance. i again shouldered the body and succeeded in reaching one of the lower wood-wharves without further interruption. a joan's alive. 45 before committing the body to its new resting-place, i sat down to recover my almost exhausted breath, and to meditate upon the adventures of the night. as i recurred to the past, and the excitement of the moment gradually subsided, my mind again relapsed into its wonted gloom, and i would have tossed up “heads or tails” with the corpse to decide which should make the plunge. but my thirst for adventure, and a growing desire to see how my scheme would work, impelled me on to the completion of my original design; and after depositing my cloak and cap upon the wharf, i plunged the body into the almost congealing water, and then directed my steps to a remote and retired part of the city, where i might, unobserved by my friends and acquaintances, await the issue. a chapter iii. john's compunctions of conscience—the announcement in the paperswavers in his purpose-conflicting emotions-attends his own funeral-makes many interesting observations there-determines to leave philadelphia-his departure for new york-doleful reflections-sails for new orleans-sea-sickness—the dandy-the lieutenant's remedy-john's preventive-happy effects of the voyage. i confess that i was not without some compunctions of conscience when i reflected upon what i had done. but it 46 major jones. > was too late to retract. i feared the consequences, should the deception which i had practiced be discovered, and now my greatest solicitude was to escape the observation of those who might recngnize me; and though i was extremely anxious to hear the gossip to which my suicide had given rise, and to learn how my scheme had succeeded, the following day and night was spent in concealment and suspense. on the morning of the second day after my adventure, i i strolled into a public reading-room in the northern liberties, a part of the city which i had seldom frequented, when i met with the following paragraph in one of the city papers: “ suicide.—a young gentleman of very respectable connections, by the name of john smith, committed suicide, by drowning in the delaware, some time during wednesday night last. he had been in a state of mental despondency for some months past, and from a letter which was found in his room, it is supposed that disappointment in an affair of the heart was the cause of his committing the rash act, which has plunged his afflicted family into grief unspeakable. his body was recovered near the navy yard last evening. his funeral will take place from his mother's residence, at no. -, market street, this afternoon, at half ast four o'clock." the paper fell from my hands, i could have sunk through the floor, such was my chagrin and mortification on reading that paragraph. i had never before reflected joan's alive. 47 . а upon the consequences of my rash and wicked act. “plunged · his afflicted family into grief unspeakable!" these words pierced me to the heart. what bad i not inflicted upon my poor old mother and fond sisters? i was the only son, and i felt that i had murdered my mother. oh, the agony of that thought! how i abhorred and execrated myself. i left the room almost resolved to go to my distressed family, and disclose all that i had done. in the frenzy of my mind a confused mass of thoughts rushed through my brain. but when i thought of the cruel treatment i had received from mary, and the triumph she would enjoy, were i to make the disclosure which i had just contemplated, all other feelings yielded to that of insatiable revenge, and the tender emotions that had but a moment before arisen in my bosom, at the thought of the heart-rending misery i had inflicted upon my aged mother, were soon swallowed up by those grosser passions of my nature, which were now fanned into a flame of raging madness by the combined sentiments of love, jealousy, and hate. besides, i knew not to what extent i had made myself legally liable as well as morally culpable by what i had done, and i came to the hasty resolve to see, if possible, the result of the affair, and then leave the home of my youth never to return. accordingly, at the hour appointed for the funeral, i approached the residence of my mother, where i found a large concourse of people had assembled, in carriages and on foot. in my well-studied disguise, i mingled with the crowd, and a a 48 major jones. listened to the various stories that were in circulation concerning my sad end. the feeling of sympathy for me, and execrations for those who had been the cause of my calamity, was almost universal among those who pretended to know anything of the circumstances. this was a balm to my wounded heart; and i will confess that the deep sympathy and universal respect which was manifested for me on that occasion was extremely grateful to my feelings. indeed, i could not but be impressed with the conviction that much of the bitterness and gloom of the death hour would be dispelled if the departed could but be conscious of the honors of the funeral ceremony. at length the splendid mahogany coffin made its appearance, and was conveyed to the hearse. immediately after it came the mourners, all in deep black; but judge my surprise and gratification, when i discovered, arm-in-arm with my two grown sisters, mary, the cause of all my woe, herself in tears, and to all appearance the most disconsolate of the mourning train! with what triumph i exulted in my heart when i heard her broken sobs and deep-drawn sighs. such a moment was worth a life of anguish, and i could scarcely restrain my exultation. slowly the hearse moved to the burying-ground. once more i joined in the funeral train-once more i saw the same body consigned to its mother earth; and now i turned away from my own funeral, indeed dead to all my early associations and enjoyments, but not insensible to the bitter miseries of life. john's alive. 49 i returned to my hotel, where i had taken lodgings, and where i passed myself as a young gentleman just from the west, and in the loneliness of my chamber meditated upon what course i should adopt. that i must bid adieu to philadelphia, and that forever, was a settled matter. but where should i go, and what should i do? were questions not so easily resolved. i had no trade or profession, and little or no knowledge of business, and, though i had been reared with good expectations, the money which i had obtained from the physicians now constituted my sole resources. i could now look for nothing from my mother's ample estate; and the melancholy conviction forced itself upon my mind that i must expect henceforth to fulfil the original curse, and earn my bread by the sweat of my brow. i resolved to bend my course to the south, where i hoped, by the formation of new associations, and by the adoption of new and more active pursuits, to obliterate, in some degree at least, the memory of the past, and, if possible, to wean my mind from the contemplation of an object which must now ever remain a source of misery and regret. that mary loved me in spite of her former affected indifference, her conduct at my funeral fully assured me, and no thought carried with it such poignant remorse as the conviction that i had lost her, and plunged myself in poverty and misery by my own indiscretion. had i pursued a different and more rational course towards her—had i 4 50 major jones. treated as they merited her girlish follies, i felt assured that all might yet have been well. but my indomitable . temper had led me to the commission of an act, the dire consequences of which i had never calculated, and which time only could reveal. but regrets were vain—the deed was done, and could not be recalled. she had mourned me dead; and though i was still among the living, i was, and must ever remain dead to her. on the following day i took the steamboat for new york. strange, indeed, were my reflections as i mingled among the varied throng of passengers who crowded the decks of the old burlington. in my fate the natural order of things seemed to be reversed. when others were consigned to their graves, they left their bodies to moulder in the tomb, while their souls passed away to another, and it was to be hoped, better world. i, who had been followed to my grave by mourning friends, and over whom sad tears of parting had been shed, had left my heart and soul in philadelphia, while my dull body was doomed to wander alone and disconsolate through the world. as the gallant boat glided rapidly up the delaware, i sat upon the taffrail and took a last, lingering look at the fast-receding city. no hat or handkerchief waved an adieu to me, and my heart sank within me as the last faint outline of the city of my birth faded from my sight. in new york, the saddening sense of my isolated condition only became more forcibly impressed upon my mind, john's alive. 51 as i looked on, an idle spectator of the bustle and commo·tion of the great commercial metropolis. i was alone amid the busy throng, and as i sought a secluded spot upon the wharf, and listened to the clamor of the draymen, or the enlivening "oh-heavo!” of the sailors, i could not but think that the broken cog-wheel upon which i was seated afforded a striking illustration of my own situation. like it i had lost my place in the great and complicated machinery of life, which was moving on with its ceaseless hum before me. one vessel was up for new orleans, and was to sail with the first wind, in which i secured my passage. on entering my name upon the books of the office, it occurred to me that i should assume a new one to avoid detection, but a moment's reflection assured me that no name could possibly be more anonymous than my own. so down went job smith, as a cabin passenger for new orleans. it was a beautiful afternoon when our little brig dropped down the north river, and with a favoring tide and a light breeze, we passed out of the narrows just as the setting sup was gilding the gently undulating waves of the broad atlantic with his departing rays. there were several passengers, among whom were some that had “ploughed the wave" before, but most of our party, like myself, were now for the first time on salt water. the sea seemed as calm and quiet as a slumbering infant, and yet there was at intervals of about half a minute a very unpleasant sensa52 major jones. a tion experienced by most of the passengers, who still lingered upon deck enjoying the beautiful prospect of the scenery of long island and the jersey shore. for a time conversation passed freely, and all seemed filled with new delight and animation by the sudden change which had taken place in their condition. by and by the convivial spirit evidently began to flag, and faces that had been all life and animation an hour before, began to wear a serious aspect as the shades of evening drew on. some leaned over the bulwarks in moody abstraction, while others made but a feeble effort to be sociable. one, a huge old , grocer, who would have answered to stand for daniel lambert, had early withdrawn from the quarter-deck, and sought a comfortable leaning-place, but where he seemed to be greatly annoyed by the chattering of a cockney dandy, who kept up a ceaseless strain of interrogations to the captain. “ capting,” said he, after a slight pause, during which he looked uncommonly serious,"capting, what makes me feel so; eh ?" eb “i don't know; leaving your ma, i suppose," replied i our merry old skipper. “ ain't you 'shamed, capting, i don't mean that,” replied the dandy, gracefully placing his hand upon the pit of his stomach, while his glassy eyes and colorless lips plainly indicated the disturbed state of his craw,—“every now and then, i feel sort o' bad right here.” “why, you're getting seasick, you d-d fool!” growled inn! (54) “ain't this ship turning around, mister ?” john's alive. 55 the churlish old grocer, just as he made one ponderous effort to heave the contents of his ample stomach into the sea. > “that's it," nodded the captain. “well, i thought it was something remarkable; i never i felt so curious before !” replied the astonished dandy, as he . essayed to cross to the other side of the deck, doubtless to avoid his uncivil friend, the grocer. the first step seemed as if he was about to ascend a pair of stairs; the next, as if he were stepping down from an elevation in the deck, and, as he ventured the third, the corner of his square-toed boot caught in the seam of his pantaloons with such violence as to split them to the knee, while he went lumbering to the opposite side of the vessel, and only stopped in his impetuous rush when he“ brought up” at full length against the bulwarks. he was picked out of the scupper, and raised to his feet by an old tar who came to his assistance. thunderation!” he exclaimed, raising his hand to his head, which had come in rather violent contact with the woodwork; “i didn't see that place before. whew! i'm so dizzy! an't the ship turning round, mister ?” “never mind, never mind,” replied the kind old sailor, “it'll be as straight as a marlinspike when you get your sea-legs on; but you'd better drink a little salt-water; it'll help you.” “ what! that 'ere nasty stuff? ugh! it makes me gag a 56 major jones. to look at it. i'm so sick-ob, i'll die! where's the door? i want to go to bed.” and with the assistance of the sailor, the young gentleman with the torn trousers made his exit into the cabin. by this time the breeze had freshened a little, and its gentle murmur, as it breathed through the cordage, was broken only by the merry jests of the well, or the longdrawn groans and heaves of the sick portion of our crew, which latter class were ranged along in rows on either side, paying reluctant tribute to the ocean god, occasionally giving vent to their splenetic tempers by quarrelling with the others, who, instead of sympathizing with them, made their sufferings a subject of mirth. “e-e-eph !" groaned one, "ain't there nothing that'll stop it?-e-e-eph !-oh, i shall die !" “e-e-eph !” in another tone, came from the opposite side in reply. e-e-eph !-oh, lord !-e-e-eph !-oh! i can't stand it!" groaned a little tallow-faced man, who threw up one leg at each heave. “swallow a piece of fat pork,” said one," and it'll”. “oh, go to h-11 with your pork !—eeeph !" retorted l the old grocer. “there goes my hat overboard !” whined a poor fellow, who had just risen from a perfect paroxysm of vomiting. “ that's nothing," replied the fat man. had to throw up as much as me!—i've raised the waist“ 'spose you john's alive. 57 bands of my breeches full three inches. there comes that snipe again—the very sight of him is enough to-e-e-eph! e-e-eph! oh!”_ “i can't stay down there, capting, it smells so-ee-eph ! oh dear, i shall die !” exclaimed the poor dandy, as he came tumbling up the companion-way,—“e-eeph! capting, you must make me a bed up here, for i can't sleep down there-e-e-eph! oh, lord—i know it will kill me. i don't see how people can laugh when we're all so sicke-e-eph! oh, dear lordy!—e-e-eph !” here the poor fellow rolled on to the deck, and groaned and heaved at intervals, affording, by his chatterings and contortions, a fit subject of mirth for all who had a stomach for a laugh. even the old grocer's ponderous sides shook with laughter when be regarded his fellow-sufferer, notwithstanding that he had considered his presence as an aggravation of his disease. “here," said one of the passengers, a lieutenant in the navy,“ take this and swallow it, and it'll cure you,” holding before the prostrate dandy a piece of fat pork tied to the end of a hempen string. “will it though ?” asked the sufferer, with an air of credulity. “to be sure it will, if you repeat it two or three times." “ how ? “why, swaliow it and pull it up again by the string." “well, i'll try anything to save my life; but it's too big, i can't swallow that." a » 5 58 major jones. a “yes, you can-down with it!" by this time the eyes of the whole crew, sick and well, were directed to the dandy. he made one desperate effort to swallow the chunk of greasy pork, which had no sooner entered his mouth than he was again seized with a violent fit of vomiting “e-e-eph! e-e-eph-oh lord ! lieutenant, i can't go that -it's too fat-e-e-eph! oh, i shall die; take it away, it makes me worse-e-e-eph !" a general laugh was enjoyed at the expense of the poor dandy, who remonstrated against such conduct in a manner that only excited the risibility of his hearers. though i had felt the effects of the “ground swell,” which was all that produced the sickening motion of the vessel, yet i had in a great measure escaped the effect of the epidemic, which raged so violently among my fellowpassengers, by adopting a remedy for sea-sickness which i had heard of when a boy, and which i soon found to be an admirable preventive. i would have recommended it to my fellow-passengers but that i doubted its efficacy until i had given it a trial. on the first slight sensation of nausea, i procured from the steward a large piece of raw cod-fish, and, taking my seat at the foot of the mainmast, where of course the motion of the vessel was much less to be felt than at either extremity, i kept myself as quiet as possible, and gnawed my cod-fish with an exceljohn's alive. 59 s a lent relish, while the others were suffering the severest penalties of a first voyage at sea. it was several days before all the seats at our captain's table were filled, and, as often as the weather became a little rough, our dandy passenger was missed from his accustomed seat. the novelty of nautical life afforded much relief to my depressed spirits, and, before our arrival at our place of destination, the exciting events incident to our voyage—a recital of which i will spare the readerhad served to dispel much of the gloomy despondency to which i had so long been a victim. a chapter iv. john tries merchandising in new orleans-soon relapses into his former despondency-seeks to “drown it in the bowl”--gets into a . fight on the levee-is lodged in the calaboose-with dificulty obtains his release-fortunes at a low ebb-sans money, sans friends, sans everything~enlists in the army of general gaines—sails for florida-improved state of feeling, the effect of hard marching~ human nature with the bark off-camp courtesy-dade's battleground—john's partiality for the general expressed. a after idling about a few days among the various places of public resort in the crescent city, i applied for and obtained a situation in a commercial house as bookkeeper. here i endeavored by close application to business to draw 60 major jones. my mind away from the contemplation of the past, in the hope that it might once more regain its wonted sanity; for i could only account for my rash conduct on the ground that my reason had become impaired. for a time, while everything was novel and strange, i was not without hope. but ere six months had rolled off, my mind began to relapse into its former channels of thought, and i again became restless and miserable, despite my exertions to shake off the gloomy despondency, which i was too sensible was again stealing upon me. before the term of my engage ment, which was one year, had expired, i relinquished my very lucrative situation, from a consciousness that i was incompetent in my present state of mind to fill so important a trust; and in order to blunt the poignancy of my feelings, ; abandoned myself to the worst excesses of dissipation. but with me, as with cassio, wine could not drown remorse, and the inebriating cup only excited me to madness. on one occasion, while brutally intoxicated, i encountered some sailors on the levee, with whom i had a quarrel, and by whom i was severely beaten and robbed of nearly everything i had of value about me. i was carried almost frantic to the calaboose, where i found myself on the following morning in a most deplorable condition, both of mind and body. it was with much difficulty that i procured my release from the authorities, who regarded me as a very suspicious person, as i could give no satisfactory account of myself. on my first examination, they insisted, in spite of all my rejohn's alive. 61 monstrances and denials, on retaining me in custody as an old offender, and read to me a long list of offences docketed upon their records against john smith, some of which would have sent me to the gallows, or penitentiary for life, bad i not succeeded ultimately in establishing my personal identity by respectable witnesses, who had known me since my arrival in new orleans. once more at liberty, i found myself without money, and, of course, without friends; and, worse than all, incapable of business by which to obtain a livelihood. i began to look upon my fortunes as approaching to a desperate crisis, and seriously meditated an escape from ills which i could not bear by a suicide in earnest. such was my condition, and such the tenor of my thoughts, when that gallant old soldier, general gaines— whose name i ever loved to honor-arrived in the city on his way to florida to subdue the seminoles, who were then spreading havoc and destruction throughout that devoted land. i felt that i was indeed “fit food for the rifle's mouth.” with eagerness “i longed to follow to the field some warlike lord,” and when the call was made, through the city papers, for troops, john smith's name was among the first enrolled upon the list of gallant louisiana volunteers. a few days were spent in making preparations, and on the morning of the 4th of february, 1836, i found myself on board the steamer “watchman," a soldier, on my way to the theatre of war. 66 62 major jones. on our arrival at tampa, general gaines found himself in command of about 1100 as good troops as ever entered a battle-field, but almost entirely destitute of the munitions of war, and the disparaging alternative presented itself of either returning to new orleans in our transports or marching to meet the enemy without those necessaries which we had so confidently expected would be at our command on our arrival at fort brook—where indeed we found large quantities of government stores, but no means of transportation, so indispensable, and yet so cumbrous, to an army in a country like florida. the latter expedient was insisted upon by the troops, who were willing to bear their provisions for the march to fort king, a distance of more than one hundred miles, upon their backs, and to brave every danger and hardship incident to such an expedition, inspired as they were by the presence of a leader in whom they reposed such unbounded confidence. those who are not prepared to concede the oft-repeated dogma that a man is but the creature of circumstances, have only to pass a few months in the camp to have their skepticism on this point entirely removed. in ordinary life we are artificial characters, and take our distinctive shade or caste from the sphere in which we move. but in the camp these artificial distinctions are soon lost. in the rude vicissitudes of camp life each is thrown upon his natural resources, and though the polish of refinement may joan's alive. 63 for a time hold its gloss, the rugged contact in which it is brought with the sternest necessities of animal life—which as a comrade, now no more, used to remark-knocked the very bark of his human nature—will soon remove its restraints, and place prince and peasant upon a level for the time. on our voyage to tampa, and for some time after our encampment, there was a courteous bearing, a sort of chivalric deportment observable among the volunteers, which induced me to believe that i had fallen into an association of the élite of the south. the most formal politeness was observed on all occasions. every man was a general in his bearing, and touched his chapeau as he passed his fellows with the air of a french gen d'armes. if anything was missed or mislaid the word was passed : “has any gentleman seen my tin cup?" or, “what gentleman's got our coffee-pot?” and when the article was discovered in the possession of another, there was a profusion of bowing and scraping—“i beg your pardon, sir.” —“o, no matter, sir.”—“i'm much obliged.”—“you're very welcome,” etc., etc. but a few days' short rations, and a hard march or two, soon changed the tone of our camp society. now the cry was: “what gentleman's stole my coffee-pot?”. and this inconsistency was changed to “what d-d rascal's stole our frying-pan?” or, “i i can whip the man that took my pork!” and it was not unfrequently that a poor fellow's head came in contact with a frying-pan or camp-kettle, if found in his possession : > 64 major jones. without his ear-marks. the word gentleman was soon discarded from our vocabulary, and in its stead other familiar titles were substituted, which would not look so well in print. the kindly feelings were soon smothered, selfishness became the order of the day, and he was to be pitied, indeed, who did not adopt the maxim of the camp, which was, “every man for himself, and the indians for us all.” the change in my life was a happy one. the camp, with its bustle and excitement, its pageantry and parade, was new to me, and the hardships and dangers to which we were at all times exposed, as we marched over the arid sands, or penetrated the gloomy forest in search of the foe, effectually dispelled the ennui with which i had so long been beset; and as i bent beneath my heavy burden in the day, or stretched my weary limbs upon the ground at night, i was far happier than i had been since i first awoke from “ love's young dream." our march was exceedingly severe, and though nothing occurred to test my nerve, my sinews were put to their trial during our scout in search of the enemy upon the alapia, and our subsequent movements in the direction of fort drane. but my first initiation into the frightful horrors of war was afforded by the awful spectacle presented on our arrival at the place where major dade and his gallant band had been surrounded and cut to pieces on the 20th of the previous december. the field of waterloo, after that sanjohn's alive. 65 guinary conflict doubtless presented a much more imposing spectacle, but certainly was incapable, with all its vast hecatomb of promiscuous dead, of harrowing up such emotions as heaved the breast of every beholder of the melancholy spectacle before us. the loneliness of the spot—the deep gloom of the trackless forest—the sonıbre shade and melancholy music of the sighing pines—all contributed to the mournful solemnity of the scene. and then the ghastly, mutilated forms that strewed the ground, the innumerable evidences of the fierceness of the death-struggle of that little band-away, then, in those lonely wilds, where the roar of their artillery only startled the wolf from his den, as it reverberated through the still depths of the forest, and their battle-cry was drowned in the demoniac yell of their merciless foe-all were calculated to impress the mind with a sad sympathy for the fallen braves. in the rude triangular breastwork which marks the spot where the remnant of the devoted band made their last stand against such overwhelming odds, a grizzly wolf and a vulture lay prostrate with the bodies, upon which, perhaps, they had over-gorged their long-starved appetites. on every pine, the turpentine was glistening in the sun, as it came seeping from innumerable ball-holes, and at a little distance from the inclosure stood a cart, to which were still attached the skeletons of two oxen and a horse, who lay as they had been shot down, with the harness still upon them. the track of the little column, from the spot where the attack first commenced, 5 66 major jones. . back to where the death-struggle had ensued, was strewed with the wreck of battle. cartridge-boxes, shoes, coats, and caps, lay strewed upon the ground, all perforated with • balls, and not unfrequently still stained with blood. even the veteran gaines could not disguise his émotion, as the men were busied in their sad task of collecting the bodies for burial. they were interred with all the solemnity of military usage, in three graves, the men in two large ones, and the officers, who were easily identified by their dress, in another of smaller dimensions. · planting their cannon at the head of the latter, to mark the spot, we resumed our march, leaving them to sleep—not upon “the field of glory,” the soldier's last and proudest privilege, but like all who fall by the savage foe, in the gloom of forgetfulness; where the tall pines, that alone witnessed their valor and prowess, shall cast their ever-green shade over their isolated resting-place, and sigh, as they toss their aged arms to the skies, their never-ceasing requiem. on the following day we arrived at the pine pickets of fort king, where we were again disappointed in our expectation of obtaining provisions, baggage-wagons, ammunition, etc. we were, however, speedily supplied by general clinch, from fort drane, so far as was in his power to afford us assistance, and after a brief rest, again took up our line of march, with five days' provisions upon our backs and upon the backs of the few pack-horses which we were 2 john's alive. 67 able to procure, for the point on the withlacoochee where it was supposed the enemy was in force. it has been urged by those who have lamented the disastrous result of this campaign, that general. gaines was to bė blamed for rashly entering the enemy's country without the necessary preparations for a protracted campaign. i have no objection that others should enjoy their own opinions in regard to this matter; nevertheless, i am disposed. to take a very different view of the conduct of that officer, and so far from visiting him with censure, i feel that he merits the esteem and gratitude of the country for his gallant and soldier-like deportment in florida. he was anxious to give the people of that territory relief, and promptly placing himself at the head of an efficient force, and knowing well the indian character, he hastened at once to the field, as one who came to chastise not to frighten or entreat. and had he been sustained with the resources then in the country, and which could as well have been hastened to his aid as consumed at picolata, and on the way between that post and fort drane, or had the gallant clinch been permitted to co-operate with him as he desired, and as the latter would cheerfully have done, the annals of our country would never have been marred with the history of the protracted and disgraceful indian war which has ensued, and in which has been spilled some of the best blood of the nation. but i may not digress, even to poise a lance in defence of my old general. · 68 major jones. chapter v. the withlacoochee-the first fight-john's peculiar sensations on that occasion—the second encounter-attack in the breastworks the music of a rifle-ball an exception to the rule-seminole dentistrybattle at night-john is wounded-short rations and hard fightingdesperate onset—the armistice-the council-a dainty morsel—the surprise—the relief-return to camp smith. it was early on the second day after our departure from fort king, that our advance-guard reached the bank of the withlacoochee. as we approached to the bank of that wild stream, whose tawny waters glide with a lazy current amid cypress swamps and sleepy lagoons on to the ocean, as still and calm as if its glassy surface had never been ruffled by human power, suddenly the sharp crack of the rifle pealed upon our startled ears, and from a thousand throats came the terrific warwhoop of the savages, who lay concealed upon the opposite bank. i felt a thrill of excitement run through every nerve. it was the first time that i had ever heard that blood-curdling.yell, and i was soon to participate, for the first time, in mortal combat. i cannot describe my feelings at that moment. it was not fear; it was not anger made me tremble; but my mind was oppressed with a strange compound of mingled emotions. there was an indefinite, indescribable sense of imminent peril, a feeling of suspense, the more painful because of its uncertain a joan's alive. 69 brevity. perhaps, my last breath was in my nostrils! it was but for a moment; but, in that brief moment, a lifetime of thought ran through my brain. all the unfinished business of an ill-spent life pressed itself upon me. .... one volley—a shout of defiance—and my agony was over ; and the next moment, when a riderless horse came dashing past, his flank all stained with blood, i felt at ease amid the danger and din of battle, and snuffed the sulphury atmosphere with as much composure as a veteran. a sharp fire was kept up on both sides for near an hour, when, finding it impossible to cross the stream at that point without the aid of boats, the army fell back to a little distance from the river, and passed the night in the breastworks thrown up by general clinch on the night previous to the battle of the with lacoochee. at sunrise, on the following morning, we were again in line, and moved down the river a distance of about two miles, where it was understood there were less natural obstacles to prevent our crossing the stream. on again approaching the bank, which we did about nine o'clock, we met with a reception similar to our first greeting, which we returned with a free good-will, and the spirited interchange of compliments was kept up without intermission until near one o'clock in the afternoon, when the red rascals, for reasons best known to themselves, declined the sport. during this spirited affair many of our men were killed or wounded. among those mortally wounded was the gallant lieutenant 70 major jones. izard, a gentleman and soldier deserving a better fate. retiring a short distance from the river, we threw up breastworks, and passed the night without interruption. about ten o'clock on the following morning, the enemy paid us a call on our own side of the river, and for the space of two hours their rifles kept up as enlivening a têteà-tête with our yagers and muskets" as one might wish to hear.” for a time the rifle-balls whistled about us like hail, and many of our men were obliged to acknowledge, some with a groan, others with a curse, the receipt of those “ leaden messengers of death." but to me there is no “ charm to soothe,” in the music of a rifle-ball, and, in spite of all my philosophy, i found it difficult to bear in mind, at the moment, the well-attested fact that “they are harmless so long as one can hear them whistle.” another name or two were added to our list of killed and wounded. among the latter was that of our brave old general himself, who was indebted to the enemy on this occasion for the performance of a novel dental operation—a rifle-ball having passed through his nether lip, removing one of his front teeth. the old general is not in command of more than a corporal's guàrd of this class of troops, and so was rather vexed at the rascal for thus depriving him of one of his veteran front rank men. it was night the many notes of the tattoo had but just ceased to send back their joint echoes from the surrounding gloom, when, as if by appointed signal, the whole woods, . john's alive. 71 on every side, were lit up by the blaze of their rifles, while the welkin rang with the rattling report, mingled with that horrid indian yell, to me more terrible than their weapons. for a time the blaze of fire-arms almost illumined the dark scene, while the solemn woods for miles around reverberated with the deafening peals of our musketry, or the sullen roar of our single field-piece, which, like the hoarse voice of the mastiff amid the yelping kennel of lesser throats, towered above the din at intervals. i was in the act of rising from my knee, in which position we had been ordered to fire, when i felt a sudden twinge in the left arm. “i wish you'd keep your ramrod to yourself,” i remarked to my file-leader, who was loading as if he had a covey of partridges in his eye. “ take that, and be d—d to ye,” said he, as he discharged his piece and commenced reloading, too much engaged to hear me. “i'ii bet that cut some of your fur, you d-d yelling panters, ye." “ zip,” exclaimed one, as a ball whistled past his head; “a miss is as good as a mile" “i wish i had a pair of cast-iron boots that came up to my shoulders,” remarked the third man on my right, as he bent upon his knees. “stand up to your rack, bob, and never mind the length of your boots,” replied his file-leader. “oh, my god!" groaned one, and the next moment two > 72 majox juxes. . men were seen dragging a poor fellow towards the surgeon's quarters. “there's a man got an indian's commission in his pocket, pat,” said a reckless fellow in my hearing. “come, boys—it's no time to be indulgin' in levity; load and fire in quickest time's the order," replied our old irish corporal. “ they're coming closer-see! the flash of that rifle was not thirty paces off.” “ here goes the lead-colic in that fellow's neighborhood," said another, as he let fly the contents of his piece in that direction. i had paused for a moment, not seeing anything to shoot at, but, as the enemy were evidently advancing, and their fire seemed to take more effect, i attempted to seize my gun, but my left arm refused to perform its office, and my hand hung benumbed and useless at my side. upon examination, i found the blood streaming profusely from a wound in the fleshy part of the arm just below the elbow. it was a rifle-ball, instead of my friend's ramrod, that had attracted my attention but a few moments before. though the wound was slight, it incapacitated me for service, and i was ordered to the centre of the inclosure, where i was compelled, much against my will, to remain inactive amid surrounding strife and confusion. it was late when the enemy retired. . daybreak was their signal for renewing the onset. owing 1 joan's alive. 73 to the great disparity of force, and the scarcity of ammunition, it was not deemed prudent to make a sortie, especially when it was evident that such an expedient could only result in dispersing the enemy, who, we were too well assured, were concentrated at this point, and whom it was the object of our general to entertain and keep together until reinforcements and a concerted action with general clinch would enable him to make a decisive movement. an express had been dispatched to fort drane, and while a part of our force kept the enemy at bay, numbers were employed in constructing boats with which to cross the river when we should receive the necessary supplies. but no succor came, our provisions were soon exhausted, and, after a few days, a more formidable enemy than the savage foe stared us in the face. famine, with its lean and haggard aspect and sunken eye, stalked through the camp, dispiriting the brave, and unnerving the strong. another express was dispatched, and yet no relief. still was gaines the same resolute and intrepid leader that he had been in younger and more glorious days, and his noble example cheered and encouraged his suffering soldiers when precept would have failed. the wily savages were not ignorant of our condition, and at the time when we were reduced to the extremity of eating our poor horses, who reeled as they walked, many of them suffering from wounds, and all perishing for food, they renewed the fight with redoubled energy, and the most determined desperation. they had a 74 major jones. > grown bolder; they set the tall grass and leaves on fire, and while the volumes of flame and smoke curled over our heads, they made one desperate effort, as if they would scale our works, which we could not repel only in the last extremity, owing to the scarcity of our ammunition. when they approached near enough, under cover of the smoke, to bring them almost within pistol-shot, the louisianians gave them a reception that made them recoil like vipers from the fire. during the night of the 5th of march, the seventh since our encampment in the breastworks, a voice hailed our sentinels from the opposite side of the river, and informed us that (to use the speaker's own words) "de injan say him done tired fight, and want to make treaty," and on the following morning, their delegates, under the protection of a dirty white flag, made their appearance, and were met by a corresponding number of our own officers at some distance from the breastworks, where a palaver ensued. while this sage council was sitting cross-legged upon a log, engaged in their efforts to effect a diplomatic adjustment of the difficulties which had embroiled the two nations in war, respectable showing of the bulwark of the red nation was paraded in full view of the camp. . i sat upon a log with my wounded arm in a sling, devouring a dog's heart, roasted, without salt, while the treaty was going on. i was meditating upon the probable result of the armistice, when i observed a sudden commotion among the red gentry, and immediately a loud volley of a joan's alive. 75 musketry broke upon my ear. the next moment the woods were red with flying indians, shouting “ clinch ! clinch !" as they dashed headlong in the direction of the river. the gentlemen of the council stood not upon the order of their going, but went, abruptly deferring all further deliberations until “to-morrow.” the whole camp was in commotion, joy lit up the smoked and haggard countenances of the men, and i dashed my dog's heart to the dogs, and threw up my cap with joy, as i saw through the smoky woods, the blue jacket of the gallant clinch, approaching at the head of his brave georgians, and knew that relief had come at last. after delaying a few days, during which time it rained incessantly—in order to give the indians an opportunity of renewing the negotiations which his van-guard had so suddenly interrupted, but which they did not do—general clinch, who no longer enjoyed supreme command in florida, obeyed the instructions of the commander-in-chief, by withdrawing the army from the withlacoochee to fort drane. arrived at his post, our own general, having resigned his command into the hands of general clinch, took his leave of those who had been his associates in his brief but arduous campaign. 76 major jones. chapter vi. john becomes weary of camp life--expedient for relieving its monotony-the hunting party-florida scenery-a mimic edenthe rural lounge-thoughts of pastoral life-influence of association-mankind an element-pastoral recreation–the attack-the escape-night in the swamp-search for the camp—the surprisethe chase-john becomes amphibious. a life of inactivity was but illy suited to my peculiar temperament, and i had remained in our snug quarters in the vicinity of fort drane only a few days, during which time my wound had become entirely healed, before i began to feel restless and dissatisfied; and notwithstanding the privations and hardships i had just endured, i was extremely anxious to exchange the dull tedium of the camp for the excitement of the field. we were to remain in this state of inactivity until general scott should be enabled to complete his arrangements, prior to a simultaneous movement against the enemy from different points, by which means that officer hoped to put an end to the war. the time wore heavily off, and i determined to adopt some expedient to relieve the dull monotony of a life in camp. accordingly, one day i proposed to four others of my companions to violate the standing order of the day by stealing out into the woods and taking a hunt. my proposition was agreed to, and we set out with our yagers, in search of the john's alive. 77 deer and wild turkeys which abound in almost every thicket or swamp in florida. our departure was unobserved by the guard, and we hastened away from camp smith, as our new encampment was called, intending only to go so far that the report of our guns might not reach the camp. we had strayed far away, amid the picturesque wilds of that delightful country, ere we were aware of our remoteness from the army. the scenery was enchanting, and even at that early season of the year, wore an aspect of luxuriance and freshness that could not fail to inspire the beholder with a love for the wild beauties of nature. now we strayed through open meadows of waving grass, startling the herds of wild cattle from their browsing beside meandering rivulets, or descending into the thick groves of fragrant orange and magnolia, where the wild vines wrought a network over our heads, and the rich drapery of spring hung in graceful festoons from every bough. then perchance we stood beneath the widespreading shade of the evergreen live-oak, whose goarled arms, laden with long pendant moss, had battled with the storms of centuries; or pressed with our feet the green-carpeted banks of some beautiful lake, whose transparent waters mirrored upon its placid surface the stately forms and dark-green foliage of the lofty trees that skirted it on every side. occasionally pausing to examine the rarer wild flowers 78 major jones. that attracted our attention, or to quench our thirst in the cool, gurgling springs that gushed from many a hillside, we wandered on, forgetful of every danger, and even unmindful of the object of our pursuit, until, becoming weary, we threw ourselves upon a mossy bank, close by a spring of delightful water, to rest and partake of the scanty repast we had brought with us. though we had apprehended little or no danger from indians so close to fort drane, yet we had no disposition to separate, and as we stalked through the woods, generally in free conversation, we could not expect to surprise much game. indeed, we felt too sensibly the calm influence of the mimic eden through which we had strayed, to think of the rude sports of the chase, and the spot upon which we had accidentally paused afforded a prospect too richly endowed with all the charms of nature to admit of any other thoughts than those of admiration and delight. there were no rugged mountains nor frowning granite cliffs to give grandeur and sublimity to the view, but the gently undulating hills, clothed with the rich verdure of the spring, the placid lake, the murmuring rivulet, the richly tinted flowers, nodding to the soft breath of the fragrant zephyr, and the sweet music of the birds, lent an air of pastoral beauty to the scene, and imparted a feeling of tranquillity and peace to the mind, delightful to experience but impossible to describe. it was indeed john's alive. 79 "a happy rural seat of various view; groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm, others whose fruit burnished with golden rind hung amiable, hesperian fables true, if true, here only, and of delicious taste; betwist them lawns or level downs, and flocks grazing the tender herb, were interposed; or palmy hillock; or the flow'ry lap of some irregulous valley spread her store, flow'rs of all hues, and without thorn the rose; another side, umbrageous grots and caves of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps luxuriant; meanwhile murnı'ring waters fall, that the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams. the birds their choir apply; airs, vernal airs, breathing the smell of field and grove, attune the trembling leaves." “is not this a lovely spot?” said one of our party, in a tone of enthusiastic admiration. "“ it is, indeed !” replied my sentimental friend sam, surveying the enchanting scene as he spoke. “how willingly would i end my days in such a place. truly happy indeed must have been the estate of those primitive people who lived in the golden age; whose days were passed amid such rural scenes as this, and whose sole employment was to guard their grazing flocks. with hearts scarce less simple and innocent than those of their lambs and kids, 80 major jones. / a they passed their days in dreams of love, equally contented and happy. unsophisticated in their manners, temperate in their desires, and unrestrained by conventional forms, they roved the green fields of earth in the full enjoyment of natural liberty; while the pure felicity of their existence flowed on, uninterrupted by any of the thousand vexatious cares, mortifications and disappointments which embitter the cup of life.” . “by george!" exclaimed one, cocking up the brim of his hat, and looking wildly about as he spoke, “if there is any such a thing as the influence of association, a fellow would soon turn to a witch-hazel or black-jack, if he were to make his home in this wild region.' “that's a fact,” said crockett, as he stooped to dip a cup of water, “my legs begin to feel sort o' woody a’ready." “i have somewhere seen mankind," continues sam, in a serious tone, "called a vegetable; and though i am not prepared to say that there are not some scions of father adam's stock that seem to warrant the comparison, yet i am more inclined to class him with the elements. the element of flesh is not unlike that of water, at least in one characteristic. in small communities it is passive and harmless, but in proportion to its immensity it becomes turbid, vicious, and depraved. yon glassy lake or this gurgling rill, like man in his primeval state, is pure, tranquil, and beautiful; but is not the turbulent ocean, carrying death and destruction in its restless surges, with its treacherous quicksands 1 joan's alive. 81 and hidden rocks, a fit emblem of our densely populated cities, where every vice that can corrupt and debase the species is practiced, and where treachery, sin, and misery roll their dark waves over the moral sea of human relations ?” all but the speaker enjoyed a hearty laugh at sam's strained philosophy. “it's a fact,” said be; “show me a city, and i'll show you vice and misery in all their various hues; a rural cot, and if not exalted virtue, truth, and purity, at least simplicity and happiness. man, though an intelligent being, formed for social life, is corrupting in his influence upon his fellows, and, when viewed in the aggregate, resembles the element of which i speak, in more ways than one." “well, sam, you moralize first-rate, but you'd have to preach a better stave than that, before you'd get me to agree to run wild again, like they say them old chaps were. i believe in civilization and good society, and thar an't no place like natchez, that ever i seed yet." sam made no reply to crockett, but throwing himself over upon his back, with his arms crossed under his head, commenced, > “oh, that the desert were my dwelling-place." “well, every fellow to his liking,” interrupted crockett, “ but i couldn't live where there wan't po gals, no how god bless 'em." 6 82 major jones. the enraptured ruralizer continued : “with one fair spirit for my minister, that i might all forget the human race, and hating no one, love but only her.” a "ah, that might do; with a right pretty gal for a minister, i don't know but i might“become an anchorite,” interrupted one. “a whaterite ?” asked crockett, with a stare. “an anchorite--a recluse." " what's them ?-sailors ?" “oh, hush, crockett, you don't know what you're talking about,” replied sam. then, after gazing a moment abstractedly into the thick canopy of overarching branches, through which the declining sun scarce penetrated, he broke forth with one of pope's sweet pastorals: “hear how the birds, in every bloomy spray, with joyous music wake the dawning day! why sit we mute when early linnets sing, when warbling philomel salutes the spring ? why sit we sad when phæbus shines so clear, aud lavish nature paints the purple year ?" to which, catching the inspiration of my friend, i replied: ‘sing, then, and damon shall attend the strain, while yon slow oxen turn the furrow'd plain; here the bright crocus and blue violet glow, here western winds on breathing roses blow; · i'll stake yon lamb that near the fountain plays and from the brink his dancing shade surveys.” john's alive. 83 sam continued, raising aloft his tin-cup, upon which his name was carved, with many an odd device by way of ornament: : “and i this bowl, where wanton ivy twines and swelling clusters bend the curling vines; four figures rising from the work appear, the various seasons of the rolling year; and what is that" “ingins, boys! ingins !”—exclaimed crockett, as he sprang towards his gun. each seized his yager, but ere we had risen to our feet, a volley of rifle-balls whistled over our heads, slightly wounding crockett in the cheek. “oh, boys, my beauty's sp’ilt,” blubbered poor crockett. the next moment a loud yell, that sent the blood curdling to our hearts, resounded through the woods, and as we hastily sprang behind the nearest trees, two more shots, which had been kept in reserve, were directed towards us from the adjacent thicket, which had served to screen our lurking foe. we did not immediately return the fire, but waiting until the indians, in their attempt to reduce the distance between us, became exposed to our aim, we gave them a well-directed fire from our five yagers, three of which took effect, which somewhat reduced the number of our assailants. the indians by this time had reloaded their pieces, and still greatly superior in number, rushed madly towards us, incensed to desperation, if such demons needed incitement, by the loss they had sustained. in this t . 84 major jones. 1 dilemma, flight was our only hope, and calling to my comrades to keep together, i led the way from our covert. while thus exposed, the indians fired, and two of our party were seen to fall. sam, exclaiming, “the devil was in paradise !” dashed down his yet unloaded gun to free himself from all incumbrance, but ere he had made a dozen paces from the spot, he too fell groaning by my side. our party was now reduced to two, and my companion and myself still retained our guns, and dashed through the open wood with the reckless speed of men who fled from death in its most horrid form. the indians were not slow in their pursuit, and it was long after their hideous yell had died upon our ears, and not until we had reached the midst of a dense and almost impenetrable swamp, that we felt that we had eluded their search, and that we were for a time free from danger. we passed the night in the dismal swamp, which had afforded us concealment from our pursuers, by climbing into the top of a large tree, where we sat out the long gloomy hours, our ears only greeted by the doleful howl of the hungry wolf, the fierce scream of the prowling panther, or the startling hoot of the owl; all of which tended little to relieve the sombre cast of our reflections, as the day was breaking in the east, on the following morning, we clambered down from our hiding-place, and set out in what we hoped to be the direction of our camp, though we knew not whether each step carried us nearer john's alive. 85 to or farther from the point which we so anxiously wished to gain. keeping constantly a sharp lookout, that we might not again be surprised, we travelled on with rapid strides, constantly hoping that we might meet some familiar object which would confirm us in our course. in the anxiety of our minds, we had forgotten every other consideration but that of our personal safety, and though we had neither eaten nor slept since the previous day, yet we flagged not, such is the elasticity and vigor imparted to the physical frame by extreme exigency of circumstances operating upon the mind. onward we travelled, now in despondency, and now with reviving hope, as some peculiar aspect of the distant view, an apparent opening or a smoky horizon, seemed to indicate our proximity to some place of human abode. once we thought we heard the report of firearms, but at a distance so remote, that we could not distinguish whether it was that of the musket or yager, or of the rifle of our enemies; in which latter case there was, to us, certainly nothing very luring in the sound. the sun was already half hidden among the tree-tops, when we discovered far away in the direction in which we supposed our camp to lie, a cloud of rising smoke, which we hailed with as much joy and gratitude as did the israelites their cloud and pillar of fire in the wilderness. as the shades of evening thickened around us, we hastened on in the direction of the camp, whose blazing fires now sent up their cheerful light, and by which we directed our 86 major jones. course, felicitating ourselves upon our fortunate escape, fully resolved within our hearts, that if it was our evil fortune again to encounter the indians, it should not be without our host. such was our eagerness to join our friends, that we did not even pause for the challenge of the sentinels, but hastened forward in the direction of the fires. we had almost penetrated into the camp when, to my utter horror and dismay, i discovered that we had rushed into the very den of the enemy. “ hi-e-lah! este-hadkah !” exclaimed a dusky form, springing up before us, apparently not less terrified than ourselves. on the wings of terror we rushed from the place; but we had been discovered, and now a legion of yelling devils were in hot pursuit of us through the open pine woods. it was a cloudless night, and the moon, which had risen above the trees, sent its calm, pale rays into the open woods, yielding a light scarce less brilliant and clear than that of the sun, affording our pursuers every advantage which daylight could have given them. shot after shot pealed through the woods, and so close did they press upon us that we had no time to elude them by dodging, and no thicket presented itself as far as the eye could reach. a spent ball penetrated my thigh, but it only added fleetness to my gait as i dashed impetuously on. once i cast a look behind. two indians were abreast, far in advance of the howling pack. i turned behind the next pine, and taking deliberate john's alive. 87 aim, fired. “wah!” exclaimed one, as he fell forward upon his face. i saw his companion stoop over him, while the wood echoed with the yells of those in the rear. reloading my piece as i dashed on, endeavoring to keep each tree that i passed between myself and my pursuers, i again began to increase the distance between us. again i corered myself by a tree, and again the foremost indian balted from the chase. reloading as before i hastened on, my companion a little in my rear, when suddenly, to my consternation and surprise, i found myself close on the margin of a broad lake, extending far on either side. to alter my course would only bring me nearer to the indians. all escape seemed hopeless. a heavy volley whistled past, as the infuriated savages approached, yelling in hideous concert. i turned to meet my fate at the moment my companion fell to the ground. half rising and calling to me in the most piteous tones, he was grasped by the ruthless savages, who clustered around him. amid the shouts and din i heard the tomahawk cleave his skull, and heard his expiring groan. in their midst i fired, and dashing my gun into the lake rushed into the thick tall weeds that grew far out into the water, determined at least to escape the appalling fate of my companion. as i looked back i felt a numbing sensation in my breast, and the warm blood gushed upon my hand. i was falling from the stunning shock when i grasped among the tall iron-weeds for support, some of which broke off in my hand. they were hollow, 88 major jones. and placing one in my mouth i sank beneath the surface, where, not without difficulty, i succeeded in drawing a breath or two through the weed. after moving to some distance from where i had first disappeared, and to where the water was deeper, i was forced to raise my head to the surface in order that i might enjoy a freer respiration. the cold water soon coagulated the blood, and the severe wound which i had received in my breast ceased to bleed, and though i cannot say that i felt comfortable in my new element, yet the sense of even temporary security from my merciless pursuers was no small relief to my mind. luckily the position which i had attained was thickly grown with tall weeds and pond lilies, so that while i had an opportunity of observing the movements of the indians, i remained completely screened from their view. they were nearly all gathered around some two or three whom i had either killed or wounded by my last fire, while some three or four of their number were prodding among the weeds and water in search of my body. i remained in my concealment until they gave over the search, and departed, yelling like so many fiends from a hellish carnival, to their camp. john's alive. 89 chapter vii. . john emerges from his concealment—fever-delirium-insensibility -recovery-despondency–reviving influence of the brightening dawn-morning repast-a new feeling-his wanderings-second night in the wilderness-dreams—the evening gun-arrival at the st. johns-joyful emotions on first reaching the army-surgical operation-rule for estimating degrees of pain-recoveryreflections upon the past-reformation resolved upon-return to philadelphia. : the moon had risen high in the heavens ere i ventured to emerge from my uncomfortable concealment. i was chilled to the very vitals, and a cold shudder ran over my whole frame as i attempted to drag my stiffened limbs along the beach. fearing that the indians might possibly be lurking in the vicinity i determined to lose no time in quitting the place which had been the scene of so much horror, and if possible to reach some spot of greater safety. but my limbs refused to perform their office, and i sank down upon the ground, shivering and cold, unable to proceed. the wound in my breast commenced to bleed afresh, and soon a burning fever seized me, and i crawled to the beach to quench my parching thirst. a dimness came over my eyes, accompanied by a dreadful nausea. my head became dizzy, and lake, ground, trees and bushes wheeled round and round till darkness shut them out from my view. 90 major jones. the tall pines threw their lengthened shadows far over the moonlit lake, and their tops tossed to and fro in the chill wind with a sullen roaring sound when i rose from the cold earth. ragged white clouds were passing swiftly overhead, and occasional gusts of wind startled me as they rustled the leaves and bushes at intervals. how long i had lain there i could not tell, but it was evident from the position of the moon that many hours had passed during my unconscious slumber. with difficulty i regained my feet, and binding my handkerchief as well as i could upon the frightful wound in my breast i again essayed to leave the spot. slowly and stealthily i plodded my way along the lonely beach until i reached the extremity of the lake, then striking into the woods i travelled on, unconscious of the course i was pursuing, until i reached a small thicket, into which i turned and sat me down to rest. i suffered excessively both from loss of blood and hunger, and i sank back against the trunk of a tree, where i hoped i might die in peace. filled with the most desponding thoughts i sat out the dark hour which preceded the approaching day; but when the streaks of amber light began to ascend the east, and shortly after, when the glorious sun sent up his cheering rays, dispersing the gloomy shadows of the night and tinging the dewy leaves with gold, while the hymn of nature rose upon the morning breeze from every glittering spray, imparting life and animation to the scene, my subdued and broken spirit seemed john's alive. 91 to take its hue from the brightening prospect, and i remembered that " while there is life there is hope.” my first business was to obtain something wherewith to satisfy my craving appetite. with my large knife i was enabled to procure an abundant supply of palmetto and other nutritious roots, upon which, and a few crawfish, i made a hearty meal. by this time my wounds began to be very sore, and on examination i found i had received other slight injuries besides those in my breast and thigh. but having partaken of a hearty meal, i soon felt sensible of my returning strength, and though but illy calculated in my crippled condition to survive a journey through the wilderness, much less to combat the foe which surrounded me on every side, i was encouraged by the past to hope for the future. i felt that my destiny was in the hands of an overruling providence, to whom i was alone indebted for the preservation of my unprofitable life. what dangers had i not passed, and what hand but that of omnipotence could have preserved me amid the perils of the past few days ? a strange feeling sprang up in my breast, and, unworthy as i was, i breathed a fervent aspiration to him, who, in much mercy, had permitted me to live to repent of the past, and who i trusted, with an abiding faith, would again restore me to my pious mother, that i might repair in some degree the wrong i had done her. with slow and cautious steps i again resumed my way, ever hoping that the next hour would bring me either 92 major jones. a to the camp i had left, to some of the numerous military posts, or to some settlement of the whites. but night again closed around me in the lonely wilderness. by the bright moonlight i wandered on, until i came to a public road. whither it led i knew not, but that it would direct me to some settlement i was certain, and taking one end, i determined to travel as long as my strength would permit, or until i reached some place of safety. the moon had nearly gone down ere i sought a place of rest. turning into a thicket at some little distance from the road, i gathered a pallet of moss and laid me down to rest, but not to sleep, unless that condition when one is half sleeping and half waking, startled at intervals by horrid visions, might be called sleep. various and strange were the visions shadowed forth upon my sleeping senses, as i lay on the moss-bed in the dark and solemn woods. now i stood by the gushing fountains of fairmount--the gardens were illuminated with lamps of transcendent brightness—the gravelled walks were filled with gay throngs of people—delicious viands were spread around-soft music floated upon the breeze—the song and dance were there, and joyous faces greeted me on every side-but, oh, vision of loveliness! mary hung upon my arm, and the rich melody of her voice poured its enchantment on my ear, in accents of love. the illusion passed. i stood beneath the brilliant chandeliers of the gay saloon-my sisters, my john's alive. 93 friends were there—'twas a joyous company, but i was not happy—there was one that looked coldly upon me-i gazed upon her as she passed me with averted face-she leaned upon the arm of thaw, who bent upon me a smile of triumph. i left the ball, and the gay assemblage to meditate alone. again the scene was changed. .. i was stretched upon a sick-bed-my mother's soft, melancholy eyes were bent upon me-she called my name, but i could not speak-a shroud lay upon the table, and i knew that i was dying. then the din of battle, the peal of arms and the shout of the foe burst upon my ear—i had fallen, and i was crushed to the earth beneath horses' feet, but could not call for aid. .... the battle ceased, and the vision passed from the magic mirror of my fancy. i knew that i was upon my moss-bed -it was bright moonlight, and i cast my eyes around upon the leaves and bushes—a footfall attracted my attentioni listened—it surely was no dream—low voices whispered together, and then a swarthy indian approached—behind him were many more. with stealthy step he drew nearhis eyes glared with demoniacal fury--his hideous face was besmeared with gore-a bloody knife was in his hand, and clots of blood hung from his shaggy scalp-lock. i would have fled but could not i would have plead for mercy but my tongue was paralyzed. brandishing his bloody knife, he hovered over me, 'till, frozen with terror, i gasped for breath. he bore me to the earth—his knee was upon my 94 major jones. breast with one fiendish yell he plunged his knife deep in my side. . . . . i awoke—just as an owl, that had perched : itself upon a tree above my head, sent forth its wild, startling hoot. i was lying upon my back, trembling in every joint, while the cold perspiration stood in large drops upon my face. i turned upon my side and drew the moss about me, but when i again lost the sense of pain in sleep, it was only to allow my mind still wilder vagaries in the world of dreams. at early dawn i resumed my journey. i had not proceeded far, however, when i discovered numerous moccasin tracks in the sand, and several strange and uncouth figures, which appeared freshly made. as these indicated the presence of indians, i resolved to leave the road for fear they might pursue my tracks, if they did not meet me on the way. striking again into the woods, i kept a constant lookout for indians as i travelled on, occasionally pausing to rest, or to fill myself with the sparkle-berries and baws, which i found in great abundance. night again began to close around me, still in the lonely wilderness. my wounds had become exceedingly painful, and i began to fear that i would be unable to proceed farther. as the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, and the sombre shadows began to dissolve into darkness, i laid me down upon my rude couch. my mind was oppressed with the awful thought of the sad death that awaited me, alone, in that desolate place, and my heart was full of melancholy forebodings, john's alive. 95 when the distant report of the evening gun broke joyfully upon my ear. words will not express the joyful emotions of my breast, as i listened to the deep reverberating sound, as it rolled along through the echoing valleys, until hushed in the stillness of the solitude that reigned around. i was overcome with joy-not wild, ecstatic joy-but a calm, holy feeling of gratitude, such as i had never experienced before, made me happy in the prospect of approaching relief and safety; and a tear stole down my haggard cheek as i caught the familiar notes of the tattoo, that came faintly upon the breeze as if to assure my hope. . marking well the direction of the sound, i soon sank into refreshing sleep, regardless of my physical pain, now that my mental agony was in a measure abated. with the early dawn i rose and pursued my journey. my progress was necessarily slow, owing to my crippled condition and exhausted strength, and it was towards evening when i reached the margin of a large river, down which i determined to proceed until i should intersect the road, at which point i confidently expected to find the fort whose gun i had heard the preceding evening. au hour's walk brought me in sight of the “flaunting stars and stripes,” floating proudly over what i afterwards learned to the pine pickets of picolata, on the opposite side of the river. on arriving at the junction of the road, i found a large body of troops encamped, preparatory to their departure for fort drane. i was too much overcome by the intensity of my а 96 major jones. ! feelings to answer satisfactorily any of the many questions that were eagerly pressed upon me by the deeply sympathizing and astonished group that gathered around me. i was soon conveyed to a tent, where i gave vent to my joy and gratitude in a flood of tears, while from my inmost heart went up the first offering of praise and thanks that i had ever raised to the throne of mercy. such was the swollen and inflamed condition of my wounds that i was immediately sent across the river to picolata, where i was put in care of the surgeon, who proceeded to dress them, and as well as his facilities would allow, to administer to my relief and comfort. on the following day, i was subjected to a painful surgical operation, the pain of which exceeded all the suffering of my past life. a rifle-ball had passed round from my breast and lodged underneath my shoulder-blade, which it became necessary to extract in order to heal the wound. my whole arm was exceedingly swollen, and my shoulder and back in the vicinity of the wound were inflamed to such a degree that the slightest pressure upon the surface caused the most acute pain. i will not attempt to describe to the studer the excruciating agony which i was compelled to undergo while under the hands of the operator. those whose stoical patience has enabled them to suffer the pangs of a throbbing tooth, day after day, until the whole face has become swollen and inflamed, before they could summon courage enough to ap1 ! ! join's alive. , 97 ply “the rightful remedy”—the dentist's forceps—and whose eyeballs have started from their sockets as they felt the knife rattling over their gums with as much freedom as if the operator were opening an oyster, can form a slight idea, a faint conception of my suffering, by basing their calculation upon a just scale of proportion; or, in other words, by the rule of simple multiplication, taking the inflamed gum for the multiplicand, and my lacerated shoulder and back for the multiplier. i will spare the reader the revolting scene of an army hospital, and pass over the time of my sojourn at picolata as bastily as possible. for many long weeks i was confined to my rude camp-bed, while my ears were filled with the imprecations and groans of the miserable tenants of that horrible abode, and not unfrequently were my eyes greeted with the unsightly spectacle of some mutilated and ghastly corpse as it was borne unco ziously to its grave. the conviction that i too wou n be conveyed to my final resting-place had settled upon my mind, and such was my desire to undeceive my family and friends that, had there been any one a? my attendants who seemed capable of sympathy for ne or commiseration for my fault, i should have made myself known to him, and have relieved my conscience from the painful secret which had so long rankled in my bosom. . at length my wounds began to beal, and the chills and fever, with which i had been attacked since my arrival at 7 98 major jones. picolata, began to yield to medical treatment. as i gradually recovered my strength i resolved, let the consequences be what they might, that so soon as i was able i would return to my home, where i might once more enjoy the friendship and sympathy of my friends. often, after i had sufficiently recovered to leave my room, would i totter down to the bank of the beautiful st. john's, and seated by the water's edge, meditate upon the past and resolve for the future. i found it impossible to trace my misfortunes to any other source than to my own reckless, wayward, indomitable temper. my selfish jealousy had been the cause of my original despondency, and my thoughtless impetuosity of temper, which had always urged me to extremities in almost every act of my life, had plunged me into the bitter deeps of misery which had succeeded. my spirit was subdued. i ha : 'ong enough upon the husks of adversity, and, like the of old, was ready and willing to direct my steps ho.. 3, where, if i had not a father to meet and forgive me, 1 elt there were those who would gladly welcome me back to life, and without whose forgiveness life was valueless and death tenfold more terrible. the term had expired for which i had enlisted, and i. was discharged from the service, with several other volunteers from georgia and carolina, with whom i left picolata for st. augustine, in order to take the packet from that place to charleston. on my arrival at the latter place i lcst no time in procuring a passage to philadelphia. after 1 1 1 1 john's alive. 99 a very short passage, during which nothing of interest transpired, our good brig entered the capes, and passing up the noble delaware with a fair wind and favoring tide, we met with no delay, and on the afternoon of the second day philadelphia with her lofty towers and steeples lay spread out before us. i cannot describe the sensation produced in my mind on once more beholding the familiar objects of my youth. a thousand joyous recollections were revived and a thousand bright anticipations created as my eyes rested upon the scenes of past pleasures. what would i not have given could i have greeted the many familiar faces that met me on the wharf? but i had resolved first to ascertain how matters stood before i ventured to make myself knowr. even to my own family. it was towards evening when i sprang upon the wharf. nearly all té jall pittance of a soldier's three months' pay was gone. i had no baggage, and with a light heart and yet lighter pocket i found myself once more upon my native soil, within a few days of two years after my supposed suicide. 100 major jones. chapter viii. john determines to reconnoitre before venturing to make himself known-ascertains that his family are all still living—visits mary's residence-discovers his old rival in the act of pressing his suit—the ghost acts an important part—mr. thaw's encounter with the ghost-his discomfiture. 1 my first impulse was to ascertain whether my family were still all living, and such was my anxiety to be assured that my poor old mother had not fallen a victim to my rash and wicked deception, that i was on the point of bastening to her residence, and if she was still alive, to throw myself at her feet, confess and explain all, and implore her forgiveness. but she was a firm believer in the supernatural, and entertained such a dread of ghosts and apparitions, that i was sure that the reappearance of her own dear son, unless previously prepared for it, would be a greater trial for her than his sudden and melancholy exit. almost mechanically my feet carried me to the door of my once happy home. but i dared not to enter. for some time i paced up and down the sidewalk in front of the house. a strange gentleman entered the house, and shortly after reappeared with my two sisters; a feeling of deepest contrition sent the blood to my temples as i noticed that they were dressed in second mourning, doubtless for me. the windows of the parlor joan's alive. 101 were hoisted; and as my sisters stepped into the street, i saw my mother's head thrust out. “take your shawls, girls,” said she in a voice that harrowed up a flood of tender recollections, “it will be chilly when you return.” i was too much elated to hear the reply and hastened away, leaving my sisters and their gallant in conversation with my mother, happy in the assurance that death had not entered my home during my absence; and now a new hope revived within me that all might yet be well. my next anxiety was to ascertain whether mary, for whom i now felt the tenderest regard springing up in my bosom, still survived. i soon found myself in the vicinity of her residence, and after passing to and fro before it for some time, i ventured, when no one might observe my movements, to steal a glance within. there was the little parlor, the scene of so many pleasant recollections, where i had passed so many happy hours with her whose every smile had shed a ray of joy upon my soul, and whose every tone was music to my ears; but it was desolate. could it be possible that she was dead? or was she worse than dead, --married to another? the thought was maddening, --and though i felt that i deserved no better fate, yet the uncontrolled grief which she had manifested at my funeral encouraged me to hope that there were no grounds for my latter suspicion, and that if she was still living, she would forgive and yet be mine. with these reflections i left the spot, with the determina102 major jones. ! 1 tion of again returning at a later hour, to make further investigations. occasionally passing the house to observe whether there was yet a light in the parlor, i continued my rambles through familiar scenes, until at length my attention was arrested by a tall gentleman, who entered the house over which i was keeping such faithful vigil. a light soon shone from the parlor window, and i approached with the hope of satisfying my curiosity on a subject which increased in interest the longer i was kept in suspense. stepping lightly upon the little veranda which extended along the whole front of the building, i cautiously approached the window and looked in. a tremor ran through my whole frame, and i could almost hear the violent throbs of my heart as i beheld, seated near the centre-table, my own angelic mary, lovelier far than ever, and, like my sisters, still in her mourning weeds. the gentleman whom i had seen enter sat with his back towards me, a little distance from her, with whom she was engaged in conversation. “will you never,” said he, "give over wasting your thoughts upon that hair-brained fellow ?” " my breath was suspended as i waited for her answer. “i beg,” replied mary, “ that you will drop the subject. i have often intimated to you that my affections were not in my power to bestow, which i should think would leave you without motive for recurring to a matter which must ever remain a source of sorrow to me." my breath came free again. ! > joan's alive. 103 “cruel girl !” exclaimed the exquisitely dressed spark, as he sprang upon his knee in a real stage attitude, “will you never relent? will you not renounce one dead, who, when living, was unworthy your love, and by bestowing your affections upon one who can appreciate the inestimable treasure, and whose love for you has no bounds—will you, dearest mary—" “say no more, and do get up, mr. thaw." thaw! i could hear no more. my first thought, when i heard that hated name, was to massacre him upon the spot. but my better judgment triumphed for once, and i contented myself by compressing my clenched fists until the blood started to the surface. i could not listen longer, and i determined to break up the courtship for that night at least. i resolved to bring supernatural power to my aid, and if possible to bluff off my rival by haunting the premises. what horrible noise should i make that would sound ghost-like was my next study. i recollected that several years before, when quite young, as mary and myself were passing down arch street, we discovered an old sailor lying drunk in the gutter. as we approached him i remarked to her that he was dead, and that the bodyspatchers would be apt to get him, on which the old fellow raised his head as well as he could, and shouted, in a most a · ludicrous tone: “john's alive! john's alive!” as loud as he could hollow until we were out of hearing. there was nothing in the incident, but the exclamation afterwards be104 major jones. came a byword with us, and often, when i had stolen upon her, i had startled her by a tap upon the shoulder, at the same time that i exclaimed in her ear: “ john's alive!” i was assured that she would at once recognize my voice and our old byword, which she knew was only known to ourselves, and which no doubt she had last heard from my lips. mr. thaw still refused to rise, and persisted in doing the impassioned lover before the mortified girl in a truly dramatic style, while she begged and entreated him not to act so. “i care not,” he continued,“ though you frown upon me and repulse me a thousand times; i would not yield to such a rival when living, much less when dead. i'll—” “do get up, mr. thaw, and do not act so foolish,” interrupted mary, endeavoring to withdraw her hand, which he had grasped and was conveying to his lips. “i will not rise from your feet. no power shall move me hence until you promise me that,” “ john's alive!” i exclaimed in a hollow voice. “what's that ?” gasped the startled thaw, springing to his feet. “it is he !—it's his ghost !” cried the fainting girl, as she fell back in her chair with a frantic scream. my object was attained, and i suddenly decamped, leaving the frightened couple to their reflections, while i wended my way to an obscure lodging, where i intended to remain a john's alive. 105 until i could devise some plan of making myself known to my friends. on the following day the ghost story was current among the gossips of the neighborhood. various exaggerated accounts of the affair were in circulation, but all the old ladies agreed as to my identity, and pronounced it nothing more than right that the cruel authors of my untimely death should be visited by my spirit. i liked the turn the matter had taken, and hoped by keeping up my ghostly visits to drive my hated rival from the field, though i was not without some qualms of conscience when i thought of the distress which my scheme would necessarily inflict upon mary, against whom i no longer felt any resentment, since i was now well assured that she remained true to her plighted faith. indeed it required some effort to overcome my misgivings on this subject. but such was my implacable hatred to thaw, and so strong was my desire to consummate my revenge for the suffering he had caused me that i could not forego the opportunity afforded me of annoying him, even at the severe cost of her for whom i now entertained sentiments of regard equally devoted and sincere, if not so ardent and intense, as my first fond delirium of love. accordingly, on the following night i determined to do the ghost to perfection, and prepared to “ dress for the character,” by taking a sheet from my bed. as i anticipated, i found thaw in attendance, offering his condolence to my poor terrified mary, and endeavoring 106 major jones. 1 to persuade her that it was all a hoax, attempted to be practiced upon him by some of his mischievous acquaintances. after listening some time, i placed myself full before the window, and when he asked her what reason she had for thinking that it was my ghost, and she replied, “because it said," “ john's alive!” i exclaimed, in the same hollow tone, as i strode past the window. “there it is again !” in a faint voice from mary, and a loud “ugh!" from thaw, as he caught a glimpse of my retiring form, was all i had time to hear. suddenly depositing the sheet out of sight, i hastened from the place; but before i turned the corner, i noticed that my example had been speedily followed by mr. thaw. i had succeeded too well to abandon my project, and i determined to watch my opportunity, and whenever i could do so with safety, to give them a call. on the following night i observed a light in the parlor rather earlier than usual, and so soon as i conceived that i would be free from interruption from persons passing in the street, with my eyes and lips well smeared with burnt cork, my face well powdered, and my sheet as before, i stepped lightly upon the porch and stole a look in at the window. two or three of mary's acquaintances were sitting with her, and the idea occurred to me that they were watching for the ghost. though thaw was not there, i did not like to disappoint them, and passing slowly past the window, i exa “i grasped him by the ankles and ... tossed him into the street." (108) john's alive. 109 my usual claimed as before, “john's alive!" one universal scream came from the inmates of the parlor, and as i turned to leave, a heavy missile whizzed past me, just grazing my side, and passing through the railing in my rear, carried away two or three pieces by its force. on raising my eyes in the direction from which it came, i beheld my rival coming full tilt to meet me. what was to be done? if i attempted to escape into the street, the hue-and-cry which he might raise would certainly cause my detection. with presence of mind, i stood motionless and still, until my assailant was about to clutch me in his grasp, then dropping suddenly down, i grasped him by the ankles and tossed him, partly by main strength, and partly by aid of his own impetus, far over my head into the street; and in less than three seconds from the moment i first discovered him, was again in the street. to remove all signs of the cork and powder was but the work of a moment, and by the time a crowd had been collected by thaw's groans, and the screams of the women, i was mingling with the astonished and inquisitive spectators. “ are you much hurt, sir?" inquired one, of the bewildered thaw. oh, it's a ghost!” gasped he, with his first breath, as he rose from the pavement, against which his head and shoulders had come in rather unpleasant contact. “yes, indeed,” said a little girl, who held a lamp in her a " 110 major jones. > hand, "for we saw it, and it said 'john's alive,' as plain as anything." “oh! yes, we all saw it, and heard it too,” exclaimed several of those standing upon the porch. “did you see it, sir ?" i inquired very earnestly of mr. thaw, who stood trembling in every joint and deadly pale. “i was watching for it,” he replied, as the crowd gathered round him," but did not see it until i heard it speak. on hearing it i rose up and threw a brickbat at it, which passed right through the shadow, but it never moved. still thinking it might be somebody i rushed towards it, and just as i was about to take hold of it it vanished, and i knew no more until i found myself on the bricks here, dreadfully stunned.” “they say it is werry dangerous to take hold of a spirit," said a little duck-legged man, with eyes like saucers. “to be sure it is,” replied a tall, broken-nosed irishman, “for didn't michael mccracken get four of his ribs broke by thrying to lay hould iv one that was walking off wid the only parr of throusers he had in the world ?” "is it possible!” exclaimed the little man, casting a most credulous gaze into the speaker's face. “ to be sure it is,” replied the other, “for didn't mike til me himself the nixt mornin' whin i wint to see him, and the docther was puttin' things to rights wid him ?” “ when did that happen ?” asked one. “ was it this same ghost ?” john's alive. 111 “oh, no; this was a fortnight ago, come sathurday night, that mike seed the ghost. it's abed he was, in his own house, sleepin' as harmless as a suckin' peg, whin he heard somethin' sneeze like. w o's thur?' sis he, and he seed somethin' white at the fut iv his bed. i'll be betther ' " acquainted wid ye, my lark,' sis mike, and wid that he thurned out. "who are ye?' sis he. “i'm a spirit, michael mccracken,' sis the ghost. "the divil ye are,' sis mike, , not belaving a word iv it. "whisht ! sis the ghost as it jerked past him widout touchin' the floor. but mike had a dhrop in his head, and wasn't afeard of the divel, so he wint to take hould iv the sperit, whin it vanished like a snuff, and poor mike knowed no more till he found himself on the floor in the mornin' wid four ov his ribs broke and his throusers and the very shate off the bed was missin'." mercy on us !" groaned the little man. there were some doubts expressed by the crowd as to the genuineness of michael's ghost; but there were too many witnesses to testify to the appearance of the one which had used mr. thaw so roughly to leave any doubt upon the subject. “it is now two years since the man drowned himself, i believe ?" said one. “ yes, and this is the third time he has appeared since miss carson came from the country.” there must be something wrong, or his troubled spirit 1 112 major jones. a would not walk the earth o' nights in this way,” said the little man, who turned to each speaker, and seemed anxious , to hear every word that was uttered in relation to the affair. “it's very singular-very singular, indeed,” said the wondering crowd. mr. thaw made a brief examination of his bruised cranium, upon which he discovered several prominent developments that were not there before, adjusted his battered beaver as well as he could, and went limping home, perfectly satisfied that he had encountered a spirit from the other world. "well,” thought i, as i left the astonished crowd, still pressing their inquiries concerning the mysterious apparition, and discussing ghost stories in general, “if my discomfited rival does not now raise the siege, then he is indeed proof against ghosts." 92 john's alive. 113 chapter ix. > john begins to apprehend that he is carrying the joke too far-seeks an interview with an old friend—with difficulty establishes his own identity, and engages him to prepare his family for his reception—the meeting-convinces mary that he is no ghost-discovers a new relative-the wedding day appointed-two grooms to one bride—the wedding-the ghost again—the astonished parson—the explanation—the consummation-the end. on the following morning the penny papers blazoned forth the full details of the ghost story. the affair had . created a considerable sensation among the credulous and marvel-loving portion of the community, and i began to fear that i was again making philadelphia too hot for me to use a homely but very significant expression_should i by any mischance be discovered. my vindictive spirit had . been somewhat appeased by the discomfiture of mr. thaw, and upon reflection, i determined to discontinue my ghostly visits, ere i should have fallen into my old error of carrying my jokes too far, if i had not done so already. i was now extremely anxious to make myself known to mary and my family, and seriously meditated how i should again come to life without frightening them all out of their wits. i resolved to seek an old friend and schoolmate, who had in days past been my confidant, and make him the mediator between the dead and living. i found him 8 114 major jones. at his law-office-he had married since he attended my funeral, but was the same frank, courteous fellow that i left two years before. i found it no easy matter to broach the subject to him, notwithstanding. requesting a private conversation with him, i declared myself, but it was not until i had narrated to him all the circumstances of my singular adventures, and recalled to his mind several circumstances connected with our past lives, that he seemed willing to acknowledge me; and though the hearty grip of the band which i gave him when i enjoined him to secrecy to all but my family and mary, could not bnt convince him that he was conversing with flesh and blood, he seemed to recoil from me as if still unconvinced, so long and firm had been bis conviction of my death. after gently reproaching me for my conduct, and being cordially assured of my full repentance, he took a professional view of the matter, and consented without fee to become my counsellor and attorney. i desired him to prepare my mother and sisters for my reception on the following day, and to have mary one of the party. he promised to do so, and we parted to meet at ten in the morning agreeably to appointment, i found my friend at his office, who informed me that my family were nearly frantic with joy at the news of my return, and that mary was so exceedingly happy to learn that her john was indeed alive, and that i was ready and willing to forgive her joan's alive. 115 а. a for all the suffering she had caused me, that she had been in a state of almost hysterical mirth ever since he had broken the matter to her. it was a joyous meeting when i embraced my foud old mother and affectionate sisters--who all gave vent to their overjoyed hearts in a flood of tears. mary colored to the temples as she approached in her turn. “john's alive!” i exclaimed, as i sprang forward and impressed a kiss upon her lips. “that's no ghost,” said she, as she turned blushing away. next came the strange gentleman whom i had seen with my sisters on the first day of my arrival. he was introduced to me as my brother-in-law. he had been married to my eldest sister only a few weeks, and was shortly to return to the south, his place of nativity. after the first tumultuous greeting, i was compelled to detail the events of my life since my mysterious departure, which elicited many a tear, and many an exclamation of wonder from the intensely interested and sympathizing listeners. after dinner i drew mary to the sofa, where, uninterrupted, we recounted all that had passed, and conversed seriously and rationally of the future. i found her all my heart could wish—fond, generous, and forgivingand i regarded her as a rich treasure, the possession of which would abundantly compensate for all my past sufferings. from her i learned the sad history of her own sufferings during my absence, and though the recital pained me, and 116 major jones. а caused me to execrate my past conduct, yet i could not but feel a degree of gratification at the evidence of her unalterable attachment. she had spent most of her time in the country, and had returned with my youngest sister from northumberland only a few weeks previous to my arrival in philadelphia. though thaw had been importunate and annoying to her at a time when she refused to see any company, he had lost sight of her shortly after my funeral, and , had only had an opportunity of forcing his society upon her since her return from the country. “ and," she concluded, with a smile, “i do hope the fall he got the other night has effectually abated the ardor of his attachment.” it was evident to all that it would be impossible for me again to make philadelphia my home, and that i would be incurring a great risk by even permitting it to be generally known that i was still living. i could not expect to make reparation to the family, the sanctity of whose vault i had violated, and should it be discovered that my suicide was but a hoax, curiosity would be immediately excited to know who had been taken from the river and buried in my stead. besides, the notoriety which my recent exploits were calculated to give me, when it should be found out that mr. thaw's ghost was no other than myself, was calculated to disturb my quiet, if not to derogate from my standing in society. my brother-in-law, who was a young physician, suggested that i should accompany him to the south, which i conjohn's alive. 117 a sented to do, on condition that mary would make one of the party. this proposition met the approbation of my mother and sisters, and to crown my wishes, mary readily yielded to my proposal of a speedy marriage; and all was arranged for the consummation of our happiness. the day was appointed for our wedding, which was to be conducted with as much privacy as possible, on that day week, at which time my brother-in-law would be ready for his departure. in the meantime i kept within doors, only venturing into the street at night, and then carefully avoiding observation. i saw mary frequently, who assured me that her family were perfectly reconciled to our union, since the explanations which i had given them of my past conduct, and the assurances of my thorough reformation. during the intervening week, mary informed me, much to my surprise, that mr. thaw had recovered from his fright, and had again urged his pretensions to her hand. i still entertained a desire to complete my revenge upon him, whose importunities it seemed no denial or entreaties could dissuade; and now an idea occurred to me, which, if i could secure the co-operation of mary, would cap the climax of the whole affair. after much persuasion, i succeeded in inducing mary to become an accomplice in the execution of my design, which i urged would be a just retaliation for the annoyance he had been to me, and a fit reward for his pertinacity in thus pressing his suit against her known wishes. it was accordingly arranged that she should accept a 1 118 major jones. 1 that gentleman's proffered hand, and appoint the following wednesday, the day designated for our own union, for the wedding day, leaving the issue of the affair to me. matters being thus arranged there were now three of us preparing for the wedding, mr. thaw, mary, and myself. the auspicious night approached. thaw was in ecstasies, and might be seen arm-in-arm with his groomsman, a fellow of his own kidney, sauntering up and down the street as the dusk of evening approached and the gay company began to assemble, almost incapable of suppressing his ineffable delight. my sisters and brother-in-law were of course invited. early in the evening a considerable number of young persons were assembled, principally all the personal friends of mary and my sisters, who had invited the company, mr. thaw being content only to bring his groomsman. the parson had arrived, and everything was in readiness, but before entering the parlor mary assisted me to dress the ghost in a superior style. “there," said she, as she adjusted the bandage about my jaws and smoothed down the folds of my long windingsheet, "you'll do for john's alive now.” then shaking her taper finger at me with an arch look, as she went to join the company in the parlor, “don't you fail to be there in time. remember, you must come when the parson says "hoid their peace. never you fear. i'll be there. tell sisters to scream their best, and don't let the room be too light.” " 66 john's alive. 119 “my stars, john, how horrid you do look! i'm afraid you'll scare the parson off too, and that'll spoil all.” “no danger; he ain't afraid of ghosts. but if he goes to run you must all catch hold of him." mary entered the parlor, and i took my post at the door, where i might through the keyhole observe the movements of the wedding party. the door was left slightly ajar, and mary took care that no one should be in the way to obstruct its opening thaw was dressed in a long-tailed blue, with large metal buttons, brimstone-colored pants and white satin vest, and his long soap-locks, which had just then come into fashion, were combed down over his lantern jaws, and glistened with bear's oil and pomatum until they almost vied in lustre with his glittering buttons. he sat in a fidget for some time, devouring with his great sheep's eyes my modestly attired mary, whom he was about to lead before the parson. everything being in readiness the delighted groom led forward his blushing bride. the good parson commenced the ceremony of tying the matrimonial knot with all the accustomed solemnity, while thaw bent upon the assemblage a look of complacent satisfaction that spoke plainer than words the joyous emotions of his heart on the eve of such an auspicious event. there was a deathlike stillness in the room. the parson proceeded: “if any have aught to say why this couple should not 120 major jones. be united in the holy bands of wedlock let them now speak, or forever after hold their peace.” "i forbid the bans !" i groaned in a solemn tone. “now, who's that ?” said thaw in a voice that betrayed at once his rage and trepidation, as he cast his eyes fearfully over his shoulder, and amazement was depicted in every face that met his view. “ john's alive!” i exclaimed, as the door flew open as if by magic, and i strode slowly into the room in my ghostly attire. a loud scream burst from the affrighted females. mary fell into my sister's arms, who screamed her prettiest. thaw, with the exclamation of “lord preserve us !” in his mouth, fell sprawling over his terrified groomsman, who was endeavoring to make his way through the parson's legs to the door. even those who were in the secret shrunk in the corners or hastened from the room, while the good parson stood with uplifted hands, the picture of astonishment and wonder. “i come to claim my bride!” i continued, as thaw and his man disappeared through the door. then hastily divesting myself of the white sheet in which i was enveloped, and removing the powder and cork from my face, i commenced to apologize to the parson, who seemed even more than ever amazed. i beg your pardon, sir, for the interruption which my strange and rather unceremonious appearance has occa를 ​“ john's alive! i exclaimed, as the door flew open.” (121) | john's alive. 123 sioned. i am very sorry that circumstances should have rendered such a course necessary. i would be very loath, indeed, to break up a wedding party, and rather than the affair should prove a failure, with the lady's consent, i will gladly supply the place of her absconded lover.” the old gentleman started; but my sisters and mary coming to my aid, who were his personal acquaintances, matters were soon adjusted, and the face of the good parson soon assumed its wonted calmness and benignity of expression. “well,” said he, with a long breath, “young people are full of their tricks, but i never expected to be called upon to marry a ghost." producing the license the ceremony proceeded without further interruption, and john smith and mary carson were duly pronounced man and wife. thaw left the city in the night line for new york, having discovered that a trick had been played off upon him, and with my happy bride, in company with my brother and sister, i took my departure on the following morning for the sunny south, 'where i am now settled, after all my hardships and adventures, the happiest john alive ! > 1 h 1 going ashore. neat, trimly dress'd, fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd show'd like a stubble land at harvest-home; he was perfumed like a milliner; and 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held a pouncet-box, which ever and anon he gave his nose, and took 't away again. king henry iv. gon.-now would i give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground; long heath, brown furze, anything; the wills above be done! but i would fain die a dry death. tempest. reader, were you ever at sea ? if you were not, your knowledge of the world, however extensive, is only partial. a first voyage at sea is like an introduction into a new world, which, in every respect, materially differs from that we inhabit. the elements themselves are not more at variance than are the customs, usages, and conventional forms of maritime life, and those by which society is governed and regulated on terra firma; and the dweller on dry land finds himself not less at fault in his first intercourse with (125) 126 major jones. a the sons of neptune, than would a finny inhabitant of the world of waters, were be to find himself in the midst of a reduction or commercial convention. it will be long ere i forget the wonders that burst upon my astonished senses, when, for the first time, i beheld the sun drowned in the sea, and the broad arch of heaven resting upon its waters. perhaps they are rendered more vivid in my mind by the recollection of an adventure which came nigh being the closing scene of my career. it was a bright, beautiful morning in the month of september, 1830, that our vessel neared the island of key west. business of the most imperative nature demanded that i should pay a visit to the island; and as the captain had promised to touch at that port principally for my own accommodation, and as the wind was unfavorable for making the barbor, it was proposed that the jolly-boat be sent ashore, while the vessel would “lie off and on," until our return. accordingly, the boat was got in readiness for the . voyage. among our passengers was a mr. j. theophilus hill, of new york, a broadway exquisite of the first order. mr. j. theophilus was about twenty-one years of age, of tall , stature, effeminate in appearance and manners, and possessed about as small a stock of the commodity called commonsense, as any other of the same kidney. from the lofty proportions of his legs, and the almost total vacancy of his garret story, one would have judged that he was born in going ashore. 127 sense. the “ decline of the moon,” which fact (if we may apply the principle to the growth of such vegetables), would account for his having run entirely to root. but it would be a waste of time to attempt a particular description of mr. hill. suffice it to say, he was one of that class of petty aristocracy s0 common in our large cities, and which are, of all others, the most intolerable and disgusting to the man of the aristocracy of europe has something about it to entitle it to the respect of those who have been reared under those institutions, and whose national pride finds vent in giving honor to the titled dignitaries of the land. the aristocracy of learning and talent, in this or any other country, is justly entitled to and ever receives the deference of those who are capable of appreciating the nobler attributes of our nature. but the upstart clique, who style themselves the first circle, and who lead the fashions and comprise the ton of our large cities-springing as they have in many instances, from a community of thrifty old tallow-chandlers and soap-boilers, who, without education or refinement themselves, knew not the importance of cultivating the minds of their children-is, perhaps, the most contemptible of all circles. mr. j. theophilus was now, for the first time in his life, absent from the city of his birth, and the circle of exquisite fellows in whose society he had moved, and, as may readily be supposed, manifested in his deportment all the vanity and ignorance of a conceited coxcomb, which renа. 128 major jones. dered him the butt not only of his fellow-passengers but the crew. the necessary arrangements were completed, and we were about “coming in stays," as the sailors call it, in order that the boat might be lowered from the davits, when mr. theophilus issued from the cabin, dressed a la bon ton, while the fumes of eau de cologne, with which his clothes were scented, -might have been "nosed” above all the odors of tar and bilge-water. “i say, capting! capting !” said he, in his shrill, small voice, as he flourished a fine embroidered handkerchief about his countenance, “i believe i will make one of the go-ashore party myself—eh, capting ?” “ as you please, sir,” replied our courteous captain," but i would advise you to remain, unless your business is urgent. it's a long pull to that lighthouse, and the boat i fear is leaky." “business !-my father retired from business five years ago. i'm never bothered with business. i only wish to see the natives. they must be rare creatures—eh, capting !-never seen new york, i s'pose—must be perfect characters, split me!” “if that is all," replied the captain, "you will be but poorly paid for your trouble. the inhabitants of the island are civilized beings, and do not differ materially from other citizens of the united states.” 1 1 1 going ashore. 129 “eh, capting! what?—do you call them citizens of the united states? is key west in the united states ?” “it is an island belonging to our government." “is it?—well, if i hadn't forgot it, split me." the lady passengers, of whom there were several, had come on deck to see us off. mr. hill bowed and scraped, and grinned for a moment, then resuming, he said: “besides, capting, i am dying for something good to eat. i believe i shall perish before the end of our voyage. i have not enjoyed a mouthful since i eat the last of the preserves and cake which my dear ma put in my trunk, if i have, split me. and, ladies”-continued he, running his hand into his pocket and jingling some silver change “i'll bring you something nice, depend upon it-something fit to eat, if it's to be had among the natives for money, split me." “i'm sorry, sir," said the captain, his face mantling as he spoke, “i am sorry that my table” “ah, no apologies, capting—no apologies. no doubt you have done your best, but, capting, you know it depends a great deal how one's been raised. i have always been accustomed to the very best, split me. the ladies begged him not to expose his precious life for their accommodation, assuring him that they were well satisfied with the fare of our captain's table. to which mr. hill replied : “oh, well, it's just as one's raised.” > » > > 9 130 major jones. a ! 1 1 the captain turned to him with a smile, and advised him, if he desired to go, to change his clothes, reminding him that his fine suit would suffer in such an expedition. “what did you remark, capting ?” replied mr. j. theophilus, giving a look of pride at his “long-tail blue" and shining broadcloth pants, which, as was the fashion in that day, were tight at the knees and very wide at the bottom, where they were neatly strapped down over a pair of fine morocco boots. “you had better put on some old clothes ; those will be injured in that leaky boat.” “old clothes !” exclaimed mr. j. theophilus, with a stare; "old clothes! why, capting, i never had any old clothes in my life.” “indeed !" replied the captain. “do as you please, mr. hill.” “ all aboard !” said one of the sailors, as he dropped the oars into the boat and prepared to “ lower away.” “good-by, ladies,” said mr. hill, as he crawled upon the taffrail ; “don't be alarmed for my safety, my dear creatures; there's no danger, and i'll bring you something nice, if i don't, split me.” a tip bucket was thrown into the boat. two sailors, the mate, myself, and mr. hill then took our places, and the boat was lowered into the water. in the next moment we were hid in the trough of the sea or setting lightly on the curling caps of the waves, while the brig, with her sails going ashore. 131 square set and right before the wind, was fast disappearing from our view. i took my station in the stern and grasped the tiller; the mate took his post as pilot in the bow, and the sailors plied the oars, while mr. hill occupied a middle seat. in the confusion of getting our places we had not discovered the leaky condition of the boat until we were nearly foundered with water, which gushed in streams from every joint. the oakum with which it had been caulked was forced out in many places by the current, and such was the rapidity with which the boat filled that even the mate became alarmed and made signals of distress to the brig, which, however, were unperceived by her crew. we were fast sinking, and it became necessary to keep the boat in the trough of the sea to prevent her going down immediately. “oh, lordy !” exclaimed mr. h., “we're gone! oh, lordy! what shall we do? i can't swim !” “and if you could it would do you no good," said the mate, as he gave over all hopes of attracting the attention of the brig. “our only chance is to keep the boat afloat until her planks swell.” “dip, d-n it, dip!” said one of the sailors. the bucket was floating between his legs. mr. hill seized it with an “oh, lordy!" and essayed to bale out the water. “dip, dandy, dip!” exclaimed the other, as he dropped 132 major jones. 2 a sea. his oar, and prepared to do the same. “dip, you dog, it's neck or nothing now.” “oh, lordy !" and the bucket flew faster and faster, though scarce removing a pint of water at a time. “ hand it to me!" said the sailor. “oh, lordy !" gasped mr. hill; then turning hastily round to comply with the request, in a fit of nervous trepidation he tumbled heels over head, bucket and all, into the the rattle of the bucket as it struck the edge of the boat, and a faint “oh, lordy!” from mr. hill, was succeeded by the cry of: “ man overboard !” there was a slight bustle. in an instant the floating dandy was fished up, but all efforts to recover the bucket were ineffectual. mr. hill looked like a wilted poppy as he seated himself in the bottom of the boat, clinging convulsively to the sides. his blooming ruffles were gone, his exquisitely pointed shirt collar no longer maintained its erect position, and his shining beaver, which had set so gracefully upon the side of his head in the morning, was now the property of covetous old neptune. his face was pale, and his head hung upon his shoulders. he was sick, and he heeded not the dirty water as it swept fore and aft at every motion of the sea, drenching him from head to foot. he had swallowed a mouthful or two of sea-water, and such was the refined sensibility of his stomach that it did not agree with him. it was not wbat he had been “raised in.” for some a > a “a faint 'oh lordy!' from mr. hill was succeeded by cry of man overboard !»» (133) 1 1 1 1 | 1 1 . going ashore. 135 time he sat in silence, and when he spoke his first question was: “do you think it'll turn over again ?" “ take care you don't turn over again," was the reply. “oh, lordy, if my dear ma only knew this,” “what would she have done for you just now? i think you'll stay aboard next time, and let the natives alone.” “oh, lordy! how sick i do feel !” said mr. hill, as the salt water oozed from his thin, blue lips. “if ever i see new york again i guess i'll not get into such another scrape--if i do, split me !" by this time the planks of the boat, which had been rendered leaky by long exposure to the sun, had swollen considerably, and we soon found, by the active application of our hats, that we were gaining on the leak. so soon as a sufficient quantity of water had been removed to render the boat manageable, the sailors resumed their oars, and we “ kept her away" for a reef of coral, which rose above the water about a mile distant. approaching the reef from the leeward we ran the bow of the boat upon the crust of coral, and having baled her as clear as possible, proceeded to caulk the leaks with our handkerchiefs and such other articles of clothing as might be spared. mr. hill was nearly crazed at the prospect of escaping a watery grave. he chattered like a magpie, and in the overflow of his zeal and magnanimity tore off a skirt of his “long-tail blue," and cona 136 major jones. 1 1 tributed it to the common stock, declaring that if he was in new york he could caulk the boat with bank bills. just as we were about to put to sea, we discovered a pilotboat bearing down for us under full sail. we were all overjoyed at the prospect of relief, for we were much fatigued, and key west was still some eight or ten miles distant. while we were awaiting her approach, we were aroused by a cry from mr. hill, who exclaimed, “oh, lordy! i'm bit !—i'm poisoned ! oh, lordy!” he had discovered a sea-egg, as they are called, lying upon the coral, where the water was only a few inches deep. supposing it to be a soft substance, from the appearance given to it by the undulation of the waves, he , grasped it in his hand, when his fingers were severely pierced by the sharp and spiral projections which surrounded it, the points of which were polished and sharp as needles. several of the thorns had broken off in his flesh, in order to extract which it became necessary that long tom should perform a surgical operation, in which he was not very expert, as his instruments were dull, and, of course, gave his patient much pain. “you mustn't try to rob old nep's hen's-nest in that way, mr. splice,” said tom, as he wiped the blood from his jack-knife, “ 'case you're sure to get cotch'd.” "oh, lordy!”-roared mr. hill—“ if my dear ma only knew-oh, how it aches!” 1 . 1 1 going ashore. 137 the pilot-boat took us aboard, and with our boat in tow, soon landed us on the beach at key west. we need not remark that mr. hill was a subject of quite as much curiosity to the natives, as he had supposed they would be to him. as we made our way into the town, the people stared at him; and his woebegone exterior, added to his silly air and conceited bearing; made him still more a subject of ridicule. even the negroes turned to gaze as he passed, and often were they heard to exclaim, “i reckon dat man's done been racked.” but what most mortified our hero was the fact that he did not find a man among the natives that knew anything about the house of vanderfelt & hill, though he found many who knew all about new york. it was towards evening when we set out for the brig, which was now in sight, lying-to, to receive us. our boat had been thoroughly repaired, and as the men bent to the oars, she skimmed through the waves with the velocity of a bird. our conversation naturally turned upon the events of the day, and many a hearty laugh was enjoyed at the expense of the unfortunate mr. j. theophilus, who took no part in the hilarity of the hour, but sat sullen and morose, nursing his wounded hand, and, very probably, weighing in his mind the value of the lesson he had learned it was a delightful evening. the fresh breeze fanned our sunburnt faces, and the heavens displayed all the va138 major jones. riegated lights and colors of a southern sunset, as the fleecy clouds, rolled up in interminable banks, like mountains of snowy mist, caught and reflected in a thousand brilliant hues the last rays of the declining orb of day. we soon brought up alongside of our good brig, and shortly after i sat upon her deck in the bright moonlight, listening to mr. hill's account of the adventure, which he portrayed to the ladies in the most thrilling detail. the sea-egg, in particular, was dwelt upon with especial emphasis. he had never heard nor read of such eggs before, and he more than once inquired of the sailors what kind of fowl they belonged to. the trip ashore was a subject of amusement for the crew during the remainder of the voyage. recollections of the florida campaign of 1836. number one. the alarm. “ to arms! to arms !" gerald.-why, the fellow's fears peopled every bush with lurking foes, each rustling leaf sounded in his ear a dread alarm. no wonder that he overrated thus his foe. burges.-aye, but in the end his fright was turned to good account. old play. it was on a bright, beautiful morning, such as is peculiar to that romantic country, that the army of general scott lay encamped on the summit of an elevated piece of ground in the vicinity of fort drane. our forces had been concentrating for several days, preparatory to a decisive movement against the enemy. upwards of two thousand men were busily engaged in burnishing up their arms, preparing provisions, and putting everything in readiness for the march (139) 140 major jonbs. i was sitting in the shade of my tent, with some three or four of my messmates, packing our knapsacks, and carefully dividing our rations of sugar and coffee, salt and pepper, which was to last us until our return from tampa, when the whole camp was suddenly aroused by the abrupt appearance of a horseman, who came dashing up the hill, shouting out: "ingins ! ingins !” at the top of his voice. he was mounted upon a jaded nag, which, judging from its bobbling gait and projecting ribs, had been on half-rations for the past month as well as ourselves, and as he came galloping into camp, hat and coat off, hair flying, with , the harness and trace-chains dangling at his horse's feet, he looked indeed the fit herald of approaching danger. none who beheld him could doubt for a moment that he had seen the indians. “ingins ! ingins !” he exclaimed, as his rosinante fetched up near the centre of the camp, "ingins! ingins!” then halting for breath he resumed : “five hundred ingins right down here by my fence !" “what?” “where ?” inquired twenty voices. “why," said he, as the crowd gathered round in eager anxiety, "i was ploughin' in my field, about a mile down the road here, just now, and all at wonst i seed about fifty ingins in the edge of the bushes, close by the fence.” “oh, only fifty !” said one. “i'll bet he only saw a bush shaken by the wind,” said another. a the florida campaign of 1836. 141 “ did they shoot at you ?" “no; but they would a' kiln me no doubt if i'd let 'em got close enough; but as soon as i seed em i unbitched darby and come here as hard as i could split.” the officers, after a short consultation with the terrified man, who still persisted in the assertion that there were at least fifty indians in the neighborhood of his field, ordered a detachment of fifty men from the company of which i was a member and about fifty regulars to be in readiness to march in five minutes. there was a hasty snatching of arms, and as we knew that only fifty would be permitted to go, there was the greatest competition to get into the line first. in less than three minutes, the orderly commenced counting from the right, and as he came to the fiftieth man in the line, he desired the remainder to fall back. “oh! let me go, sergeant,” said half a dozen in the most persuasive tone. only fifty is the order," replied the officer. there were several disappointed faces on the left; but the order was imperative. some endeavored to exchange places with those who had been more fortunate in getting into the line; but not one could be induced to resign his opportunity of getting "a pop at the indians." in less than ten minutes from the first alarm, the detachment was on its way to the little plantation where the indians were said to have been seen. the house was distant 142 major jones. 1 . from the fort about a mile, and was situated on the edge of a small hummock, which extended to some distance on the right and left of the little inclosure, in which our informant had been ploughing. after charging through and scouring the hummock in the vicinity of the field, without even discovering any signs of indians, the detachment was about to return, when it was proposed to examine another part of the thicket some distance from the house. accordingly, leaving a small party of mounted men, who had accompanied us from the camp, to make farther investigation upon the premises, we proceeded to the head of the hummock. our detail was divided into two detachments, one of which--accompanied by the few friendly indians who bad been brought along as guides—moved up on the right and the other upon the left of the hummock; while the regulars, taking a circuit through the woods gained the head of the thicket, and advanced into it, with a view of routing the indians, who, should they attempt escape, would of a certainty come in contact with either one or the other of our detachments, which were flanked out on either side, so as not only to command the hummock, but the high ground in the vicinity. we had arrived at the designated point, formed in extended line, and were calmly awaiting the issue of events, when, as i stood facing the hummock, i perceived some object moving in the thicket. as i caught but a glimpse of the body through the thick foliage, its color resembled . the florida campaign of 1836. 143 a that of an indian. a thrill of excitement ran through every nerve, and just as i was about to raise my gun, the object gave a sudden bound towards me, and the next moment my indian was a deer, standing not twenty paces from me, with head erect, presenting one of the fairest broadsides that ever tempted the aim of the hunter. davy crockett! what a fair shot! who could have withstood the temptation! there it stood, perfectly unconscious of my presence -spuffing the air with distended nostrils—while its body stood out in bold relief from the trunk of a huge burnt live oak in the rear involuntarily, as if by instinct, my. musket was brought to my face. another moment and that deer bad never left his tracks alive. but just as i was about to pull the fatal trigger, a murmur broke upon my unwilling ear,—“don't fire! pass the word not to fire!" was uttered by fifty mouths. it came from the officer in command. still i held my gun upon the deer, nor did i remove my finger from the trigger. in spite of orders, my finger would pull; harder and harder it pressed upon the trigger, till at length, taking alarm at the clamor among the men, who all seemed deeply interested in the fate of the poor deer, and exceedingly fearful that i did not hear the order, it bolted again into the thicket from whence it had come. “goddess diana !” thought i, as i brought my gun to an order, “where were you then? would that the antlers of that deer were in the throat of the man who passed the 144 major jones. order not to fire.” but i was not permitted long to indulge in this revery of disappointment and chagrin. a minute had notelapsed before crack !-crack !-crack! came the report of a dozen rifles from the centre of the thicket before us. every eye was piercing into the thick hummockevery man grasped closely his gun—while a deathlike stillness prevailed throughout the line. every countenance glowed with eager expectation, as they stood a “like greyhounds in the slips,” enemy was full awaiting the onset. the next moment the in view, and the terrific war-whoop!did not burst upon our ears; but the same buek, which had so tempted my discipline but a minute before, with his white ensign flying, came dashing from the thicket. poor deer! he had found the friendly indians on the other side less formal than us, and having received a broadside from them, had returned to our side. as he reappeared, however, he met with a far different reception. coming out above me, the man nearest him fired; the deer turned up the line, with his white tail spread to the breeze; he darted like lightning past, under the fire of the whole line. •shot after shot missed, until, near the head of the line, he encountered some who had killed their buck before. these soon put an end to the fün. a few bounds more, and the noble buck was numbered among the slain. the firing had attracted the attention of the horsemen, the florida campaign of 1836. 145 who came galloping up at full speed, eager to participate in what they thought a real engagement. “we've got one, major !” exclaimed our officer, as one of them charged up to the spot. “ ab! eh! where?” ejaculated the major, in a single breath, while his face glowed with excitement. “where? “ where?” “there, he lies behind those palmettoes.” hastily reining his horse to the spot, and raising himself in his stirrups, he gazed over. seeing the prostrate deer, he sat down in his saddle, and giving the officer a look, half-disappointment and half-reproach, replied, “oh! is that all?” the regulars, when they heard the firing, were not less deceived; and expecting that we were engaged with the indians, they advanced cautiously, each man taking care to cover himself by the trees. they were now in hearing, and as the firing ceased, and they could hear the general shout that we had “killed one,” they came on hastily, as if anxious to be “in at the death,” though they had enjoyed but a sorry chance in the chase. “ huzza! we've got him.' " where is he?" shouted the lieutenant, as he emerged from the thicket. “there he lies, dead as a herring,” answered our officer, pointing to the clump of palmettoes. the lieutenant rushed to the spot, but, like the major, he $ 10 146 major joxes. 1 soon perceived the hoax, and turning away, discovered a not less ludicrous change of countenance. we were soon joined by the other detachments. the few friendly indians gathered round the deer, and gazed with their hungry eyes as though they would have devoured it on the spot. “ echoe inclis che !" said one,' as he turned grinning away, at the same time unconsciously licking his tawny lips. enca,” replied another quaint-looking fellow, who had been examining the body in hopes of discovering a rifle-shot among the wounds; enca, echoe! good too much ;" then turning with an air of disappointment and slapping his hand upon his gun, he exclaimed : “holawagus cher no 6 good.' our detachment being now concentrated, all joined in a hearty laugh at the adventure. we retraced our steps to . the camp. as we drew near we were encountered by numerous stragglers, eager to learn the result of the battle. of course we told them that we had killed one, and, pointing them to the horse in the rear on which the deer was borne, they no sooner saw the blood than they bolted off to tell the news. by the time we arrived in camp it was currently reported that twenty indians had been killed in the affray. a meeting was soon convened of those who claimed to have hit the deer. fortunately there were but three ballholes in his hide, or there had not been a mouthful apiece the florida campaign of 1836. 147 for the claimants. matters had been adjusted, and the three who seemed to have the best right were busied in butchering the venison. two of them were my personal friends, and i sat by them as they were engaged in dividing out the meat. it was splendid venison, and as i watched the . butchering operations, and my mouth watered for some of the steaks, i could not but think how easily i might have killed the same deer. “if it had not been for the orders of the officers," said i," i could have saved the whole company the trouble of firing at that deer. i never saw a prettier shot in my life.” “that's a fact,” replied one; "it was a shame they did not let you fire. you could not have missed." . “ it would have vexed me had i been in the same situation," said the second. the other individual seemed not to heed what was being said. he was one of those who in such cases sympathize with no one, or, in other words, he was a complete no. 1. “i say, gentlemen, suppose we give micconopy* the other quarter. one is as much as i want, and i do think he has a right to a part of the venison, as he could, had he been allowed the same privileges we were, easily have obtained the whole." * my nickname in camp. it was given to me by one whose familiar cognomen was not more enviable, viz., gopher. mine, literally translated, signifies pond king (micco, king; nophy, pond). the other is a species of land turtle found in florida and some parts of georgia. 148 major jones. “ agreed," said the other; “i don't want more than a quarter of fresh meat at a time.” “yes, but the indians had not fired when he had the chance to shoot, you know," said the third. “oh, well, devil the odds ; let's give him the other quarter anyhow.” the other looked a demurrer, but he was overruled, and the fourth quarter was awarded to me. i gladly accepted it, and i dare say mess no. 7 have not yet forgotten the delightful steaks it supplied, nor the fine soup which was made from the bones on the following day. number two. return from the prairie moonlight sceneburial of the dead. the chase was done, and the bugle had sounded a halt. our straggling army, which had but an hour before been squandered through the tangled wood and dense hummock, in search of the flying enemy, was formed in order, and we were about to retrace our steps to camp. we had heard the shrill war-whoop, the sharp crack of the rifle, and the peculiar, though not very agreeable, whistle of the enemy's the florida campaign of 1836. 119 bullets as they came whizzing over our heads, or splashed in the muddy water at our feet. but we were unharmed. not a man was touched, and we felt ourselves victors, while in possession of the field, though we had not fired a musket. true, our bayonets had “looked daggers' points” at the enemy, and the lengthened scratches of the big-toe nails in the mud afforded abundant evidence that they, notwithstanding their vaunting yells and fierce onset, had preferred rather to evade than come to the point. it was a hardfought battle, that battle of the “spotted lake," if we take into consideration the racing and chasing, wading and swimming, bogging and floundering, together with the feats of "ground and loſty tumbling" performed, though, like most subsequent florida battles, it ended in smoke. there was fighting enough done, but there were no indians caught; there was powder enough burned, but there were more wounded pine trees discovered after the battle than wounded seminoles ; and i am strongly of opinion that there was more turpentine than indian blood spilled on that occasion. few of us by that day's exploit were covered with glory, though every mother's son of us got well bespattered with mud. none were covered with scars, but many had their garments torn most copiously. “this minds me of waterloo,” said a comrade, up to his armpits in mud and water, as we were returning through the lagoon. “there! there goes the other flap of my coat-tail,” said 150 major jones. > another, as he was endeavoring to extricate himself from a web of briers with which he had become so completely mixed, that it was difficult to distinguish himself among the brambles. moses in the bulrushes, young as he was, stood a better chance than we do of ever getting out." "i don't see," said my file-leader, uttering a slight imprecation between his teeth, as he rose from the ground upon which he had just left a full-length impression of himself, “i don't see how them infernal red-skins got out of the way so quick. i couldn't run a mile a month in such a swamp." “ look out behind there !" “thunder and lightning! what do you let the bush back for? you've knocked my eye out!" “it hung to my coat couldn't help it." “give me your hand, somebody !" called out a little duck-legged fellow, whose head just stuck out of a quagmire, which the fallen leaves had hidden from his observation. “now, then! oh-he-o !" cried his friend as he drew him forth; "it's well you spoke, for i was just going to pick up your cap." “ are you amphibious ?” asked a rather quizzical messmate. “no," replied the man in black mud,“ but i expect t.. be before we get home." in that way > the florida campaign of 18:36. 151 “there you go again,” cried a dozen, as down went one over a palmetto root. “ come here and i'll help you up,” said another. “ just you mind your own business," was the reply, as the stumbler gathered up his musket and fell into place. thus were we discoursing as we clambered through the intervening thicket on our return to the prairie, where we had on the morning “stripped for the fight.” on reaching the open ground we found our drummers standing sentry over our knapsacks, canteens, etc., which, when we had recovered, we resumed our march with the army. till now i had seen but one dead and one wounded man, and those i had passed at a time when nearly the whole army except our own company was engaged, and when the roar of musketry, the yell of the indians, and the shout of “hurrah for georgia !” which burst from our troops, drowned all thoughts of either the dead or dying; and the sight of one poor fellow, who lay beneath a shady live-oak, slowly breathing his last, with no one to receive his dying word but a stranger surgeon, at that moment excited no emotion within my breast. but now the dead and wounded were collected together, and the exciting scenes which had before borne the mind away from the contemplation of such objects, were past and gone, and as i regarded the lengthened train of white litters on which our unfortunate comrades were borne, i could not divest my mind of the melancholy reflections naturally suggested by such a spectacle. but 152 major jones. a what has the soldier to do with sympathy ? his rugged calling requires a heart tempered as his steel; and as i thought of the stern nature of our duty, and the darker hours which were, perhaps, yet in reserve for our own corps, i inwardly struggled to suppress those feelings which i felt under other circumstances it would have been a virtue to indulge. the camp was distant from the place where we had engaged the indians about two miles. to this place the killed and wounded were conveyed upon litters constructed of blankets, and borne upon the shoulders of the men. as we moved forward through the thick hummocks and over fallen trees, it was painful to hear the groans of the wounded as at times they were dragged rudely over some opposing obstacle or jostled against the trees. though the aggregate of killed and wounded was small, yet it was a painful sight to sce even those few.thus borne from the field, and many a manly breast burned with the spirit of revenge, as we recollected that they had fallen by so treacherous, so base a foe. it was nearly dusk when we reached the camp. the place selected for the deposit of our baggage wagons was situated upon an elevated piece of ground, which had been inclosed by a rough breastwork, and left in possession of about three hundred men, who had been detailed from each corps in proportion to its size. those at the park could distinctly hear the firing, and as a friend afterwards informed me, each discharge of our ar. a the florida oampaign of 1836. 153 : tillery, as it was heard above the roar of the musketry, seemed to produce an electric effect upon the entire camp. some cheered and shouted, some danced and jumped about the inclosure, while others seized their muskets and leaping astride the breastworks, seemed determined to participate in the fray. of course they felt the most intense anxiety to learn the result, and as we approached within hearing distance those of our own corps who had been left behind pressed their inquiries with the most earnest solicitude: “ who's killed ?" “nobody!” from half a dozen. “who's wounded ?" “nobody!” “tom !” “here!" answered a voice from the ranks. “hurrah !" came from the breastworks in reply. “i knew they couldn't shoot you, tom." , as we marched in and formed our encampment each corps was questioned in like manner by those who had been left behind; but it was not the fortune of all to receive the same cheering intelligence. every company had not been so fortunate, and it will be long ere i forget the deep expression of pain manifested by the changing countenance and filling eye of a louisianian, who asked: " where is robertson ?* * mr. robertson was a gallant young soldier belonging to the louisiana volunteers. he had distinguished himself on several occasions, 13 154 major jones. > a “he is killed," was the startling reply. so soon as ws' were dismissed preparations were made for satisfying our craving appetites. rations were drawn, our camp-fires lighted, and as we engaged in cooking and eating, the events of the past day, its dangers and its hard-ships, were soon forgotten in the enjoyment of our bacon and biscuits. in the midst of our enjoyment, however, and just as i had snugly packed away the remnants of my scanty rations, and located myself in a comfortable position for the night, my back resting in a niche formed by the roots of a lofty pine, it was announced that our corps were detailed for picket guard. without a murmur, we shouldered our muskets and again formed in company. it fell to my lot to be placed on the first relief. like most parts of florida our encampment more resembled a beautiful meadow, with here and there a lofty pine, than ordinary uncultivated woodland, being as it was, clear , from underwood, and carpeted with a luxuriant growth of long grass. it was a lovely night. the moon shone brightly, casting a soft mellow light over the surrounding landscape, and reflecting her pale disk on the still waters of the little and his loss was deeply lamented by the army generally, but particularly by the gallant volunteers from his own state. he was shot through the head on the first fire of the enemy, and died after iingering several days. his wound was at first considered mortal. thb florida campaign op 1836. 155 lake that slumbered at the base of the gently sloping hill apon which our army was encamped. upon its brink, where a tall pine threw its lengthened shadow far over its silver surface, had been assigned my post. it was light as day, and i could see from one extremity of our encampment to the other, and could distinguish many sentinels as they stood at their posts. like myself they were weary, and they rested upon their arms, or leaned against some friendly pine, apparently meditating upon the events of the day which had just closed. the scene was one calculated to inspire the contemplative mind with sober thoughts, and to chasten the feelings by its calm and influence: “the birch trees wept in fragrant balm, the aspens slept beneath the calm; the silver light, with quivering glance, played on the water's still expanse; wild was the heart whose passion's sway could rage beneath the sober ray;" and doubtless many a grateful heart, in that still hour, was paying its orisons to him who had preserved us unharmed amid the perils of savage warfare. the great mass of the army were already stretched upon the ground. hundreds of gallant spirits, whose breasts on the morning of that day had glowed with intensest excitement, were now steeped in silent forgetfulness; perhaps reviewing in their dreams the thrilling incidents that had passed; or perhaps, borne on wings of fancy, were enjoying the blessed presence of friends 156 major jones. a and relatives at home. all was still. not a breeze or sound broke the unruffled calm of nature, save at intervals might be heard the faint and plaintive yell of some lone savage in the gloom of the far-off hummock, where, not unlikely, he was searching for some one of his tribe, who had not been found since the battle. while leaning upon my gun, enjoying the calmness of the scene, and indulging in my own fugitive reflections, i , observed a slight movement in the vicinity of the louisiana line, at the opposite extreme of the encampment. in the dim distance i could observe a small body of men, and as the rays of the moon caught upon their bayonets, i could perceive that their arms were reversed. it was a corps of louisianians preparing to bury an unfortunate comrade, who had fallen in the battle. it was a melancholy spectacle, . such as was calculated to excite emotions of no ordinary character; and as the shrili but harmonious tones of some ten or fifteen fifes broke suddenly forth upon the stillness of the night, accompanied by the solemn, monotonous beat of a single muffled drum, the plaintive music touched a chord of feeling which vibrated with the keenest sensibility. never before did the notes of that beautiful hymn breathe such sweet, such plaintive melody, as when they rose amid that wild scene and were echoed back from the gloomy depths of the trackless forest. slowly the iittle group move, with measured tread, to the spot appointed for the last resting-place of their deceased friend. wrapped in his blanket, the florida campaign of 1836. 157 they laid him upon his lowly pillow, then returning the turf upon the grave, they left him there, to slumber, “on a spot without a name, far hidden from the search of fame,” and, in silence, retraced their steps. thus, thought i, terminates man’s aspirations after glory. doubtless the inmate of that rude grave had been actuated by the same sentiroent of patriotism, the same love of glory, which glows so brightly in the bosom of every citizensoldier. a noble spirit of devotion to his country had impelled him to leave his home, and to encounter the privations and perils of savage warfare. doubtless he had anticipated his reward in the smiles of an approving country, the gratulations of admiring friends, and, above all, the inward consciousness of having done his duty, than which the patriot soldier has no richer recompense. but, . i said to myself, what were all those bright and glorious day-dreams to him now? with him "life's fitful fever” is over, and to him the world's applause is but idle breath. “no more upon his ear will come the war-beat of the gathering drum, or the trumpet's roaring blast," but all forgotten by the chronicles of fame, he will sleep on until the morning of the final reveille, when, if he have the countersign of an upright life, he will rise to be marshalled in the ranks of the blessed, and to participate 158 majob jones. in the rewards of the just, which are worth ten thousand lives of earthly fame and glory. * * just before sunrise the funeral dirge again breathed forth its solemn strain. two more were consigned to the grave. at early dawn the bugle sounded for the march, the line was formed, and we were soon compelled to “leave them where breezes play 'mid palm trees waving high, and flowers exert such pleasing sway, that death itself aside might stray, forgetting where they lie.” number three. picket guard stormy night_snug quarterspatrick fagan and the georgia stag. reader, did you never, when some dire mischance has befallen you, in the course of the vicissitudes of life, enter, tain for a moment the impious thought, that of all other mortals you had been singled out as the victim of relentless fate? have you not at such times felt a murmuring spirit within you, which almost ventured to reproach the great dispenser of good and evil with injustice? you have. the florida campaign of 1836. 159 well, it was with just such instigations of the devil in my heart, that i shouldered my musket, and repaired to the guard tent to take the place of a member of the company who had reported himself sick. i say it was with just such feelings that i shouldered my musket. do not think, most amiable reader, that i harbored such a thought for more than a minute, or longer than merely to allow time for reflection. and when you learn the circumstances, though you cannot find it in your pious heart to sanction, either in yourself or me, so wicked a thought, yet i doubt not that the peculiar nature of my grievance will excite your sympathies in my favor, and in some degree palliate the momentary impulse of frail human nature. guard duty is at any time the veriest drudgery of a soldier's life, and in inclement weather, but for mere opinion's sake, i had about as leave be under guard as on guard, particularly when the prisoners are accommodated with a shelter. i had been on guard only a day or two previous, and was the first on the list to be detailed on the following day. it was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and the fast-gathering clouds and drizzling rain gave token of an approaching storm. i was snugly nestled in my tent with my messmates, congratulating myself with the reflection that i had escaped a stormy night on picket guard, and really sympathizing with those poor fellows whose fate it was to keep their vigils on such a night, when i heard my name called by the orderly. i looked out at a small 160 major jones. aperture in the tent which had been left open, not being disposed to get wet unnecessarily. “what's wanting ?” i inquired. “get your gun (a tremor ran through my whole frame); get your gun, sir, and report yourself to the officer of the guard as substitute for —, who has reported himself unable to do duty. you must be in haste," he added, as he » turned away. “but, sergeant, sergeant, i'm—" “you're next on the list," was the stern reply. the thing was settled. there was no appeal, no hope of release, and, what was worse, no sympathy, for as i picked up my musket and prepared to depart from the crowded tent, one remarked in reply to my grumbling: “we'll have more room, boys," and i thought, as i gave them a parting look, that their countenances expressed something more than mere gratification at their own escape. on my arrival at the guard-tent i was incorporated in the third relief, which chanced to be entirely composed of members of my own company. the picket guard and supernumerary guard were standing huddled round a large blazing log-fire in sullen silence, with their necks bowed in stubborn defiance to the drizzling shower, which, as the night approached, increased to a drenching storm, while some ten or a dozen drunken regulars lay sprawled upon the ground in what was called the guard house, in glorious unconsciousness of the rain that descended into their tre florida campaign of 1836. 161 . weather-beaten faces. i elbowed my way to the fire, and stood in sad contemplation of my misfortune. a few hours elapsed and it was night-and such a night! 'twas black as stygian darkness; not a star ventured to ; peep through the impenetrable gloom, nor a single brighter spot in the sable canopy above to indicate an approaching calm. there was one in the crowd assembled round that fire, and only one, the temperature of whose mind did not seem to harmonize with the scene. he was the same eccentric, jovial, good-humored, devilish, mischievous fellow in sunshine or in storm, on the march or in camp; "he was indeed a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy," and so far from allowing adverse circumstances to affect his humor, it was his wont to indulge most in his merry wit when the contrast was greatest with the sullen humor of those around. thus we stood grouped round the fire until the order: "fall in, third relief !” summoned us to depart. we were soon distributed upon our respective posts, much to the gratification of the poor fellows whom it was our duty to relieve. shortly after we were posted the storm increased, the rain descended in torrents, and the wind roared in the tops of the lofty pipes. in spite of my good petersham and blanket to boot, i was soon drenched to the skin. i felt the cold water trickling down my back as i stood by a tree hugging my musket, which in spite of all my efforts, was as wet as myself. i could have crawled under an oystershell to escape the pelting storm, but there was no shelter 11 162 major jones. for me, not so much as a dry knot-hole, and i was obliged to weather it out. two long hours, and like florida miles, they seemed the longest i had ever experienced, at length elapsed, and my heart leaped with joy when i heard the sentinel next to me call out: “who goes there ” in a few ? minutes more i heard the tramp of feet approaching. judging from the sound, for it was as dark as egypt, when they had approached within challenging distance, i hailed : “who goes there ?" “relief,” was the reply of a well-known voice. “stand, relief; advance, sergeant, and give the countersign." “clinch," whispered the sergeant. countersign's correct; advance, relief.” “forward, relief; halt! advance, number seven; , report." after giving the sentinel the proper charge, i took my place in the rear, and we moved off. several other sentinels were relieved in like manner, and we had nearly completed the round of the picket, when the sergeant, who was a regular and a strict old disciplinarian, ordered a halt. “ where's number 'leven ?" said he; "his post must be near here, but he has not challenged.” he then groped about in the bushes for a minute or two, and returned. “i think it was at this tree number 'leven was posted.” perhaps we've passed his post,” remarked one of the relief. thb florida campaign of 1836. 163 the old sergeant again made diligent search among the logs and bushes, but without effect. the line occupied by the picket guard was on the brow of a hill, so that it difficult even in the dark to miss the post so wide as to be out of challenging distance. “may-be he's asleep?" remarked the sergeant. “may-be he's dead, you mean; none but a dead man could sleep on post, such a night as this." “i'll call him," said the sergeant. “sentinel ! sentinel number 'leven !" no answer. “who was posted on this post, fellows?” asked one. the ruga dick, the big buck of the water, the georgia stag,” replied a hoarse sepulchral voice, which seemed to come from underneath the ground. “oh, it's that rascal tom,” remarked several in the same breath; and then there was a general laugh among the men. but the old sergeant was bewildered. “where did that voice come from ?” he inquired in evident surprise. before he could be answered, the same voice broke forth in the same unearthly tones : “oh, young man, come and take me, and marry me, and call me your own, for i swear and declare, i am tired aliving alone.” the song led us to the spot, but still no one could be seen. " here he is !” exclaimed one, at the same time he gave . 164 major jones. a a kick against a flour-barrel in which the songster was ensconced. the kick had the effect to slue the barrel round, and another sent it rattling down the hill. “hello—quit that-stop-stop-it !" came from the barrel, as it went rattle-te-clink down the hill, till it was stopped by a log, and the next moment a form, whose snowy whiteness was even discernible in the blackness of the night, came crawling out of the open end of the barrel. “who goes there?” said the man in white. the old sergeant knew not what to say; he endeavored to mutter some words of reproof, but tom was too clever a fellow to get mad with, and as the whole relief joined to extenuate his fault, the old fellow, considering it was a “ rainy night, anyhow," consented to laugh at the joke, and say nothing about it. the truth of the matter was, tom, not being disposed to stand two hours in a pelting storm, had, after having been placed upon his post, strayed up into the camp, where he found an empty flour-barrel, which he carried, as near as he could guess in the dark, back to his post, into which he crawled with his musket, and where he might have remained “as snug as a bug in a rug” till morning, but for our intrusion. on our arrival at the guard-tent, there had been quite an accession to the list of prisoners. among the rest was a little irishman, by the name of patrick, who having indulged most too freely in the “crayther," was now as merry and profane as a madman. he was lying sprawled out on the zin . con 14 “a form, whose snowy whiteness was even discernible in the darkness of the night, came crawling out at the open end of the barrel." (165) | the florida campaign of 1836. 167 ground, face upwards, railing away against the officers to his heart's content. he attracted the attention of the georgia stag, who coiled himself near bim, and watched his opportunity for a quarrel. patrick was complaining of the regulations of the camp. “it's these d-d ponies that's made all the bother," said he. “whom do you call ponies ?” demanded tom, rising erect as he spoke. “you irish rascal, if you call me a pony, i'll take your scalp in the twinkling of an eye.” patrick was taken by surprise, and commenced at once to explain. “oh, it wasn't the likes o’ye that i meant, at all at all; it's these d—d rigʻlar officers that i mane—they're what i call ponies.” tom accepted the explanation, and lay down; but just as patrick felt himself at liberty to rave against the ponies as much as he pleased, he was again interrupted by tom, who, flourishing a large bowie-kniſe over the head of the prostrate irishman, declared that he was a pony, and that he would cut his throat from ear to ear, if he said another word against them. “you don't know," said he, with a boasting air, “whom you are dealing with. i am ruga dick, the big buck of the water, the georgia stag. tie my leg to a swinging limb, and i'll whip all the irish in ireland.” patrick stared for a moment as if confused in his under> 168 major jones. standing, and again begged off; but, perhaps perceiving his antagonist rather too ready to accept his apology, he .in turn rose to a sitting posture and bullied tom. “it'll not do for the likes o'ye to thry to scare me. by the powers, man, do you know who you're talking to ? if ye don't, make yerself aisy i'll break ivery bone in the d-d dirty skin iv ye.” tom in turn affected to be dreadfully alarmed, and made every apology. patrick lay down again, but continued: “yer a pony, are ye? hut, the divil ye are! well, ye better not come any iv yer blarney about patrick fagan or he'll be the death iv ye. don't thry to stop me from spakin' me mind, if ye are georgia's bull or stag, or whativer ye are. me tongue's me own if i am a riglar, and no man shall stop my~" just here tom deliberately raised his leg and dropped it, mud, boot, and all, plump into patrick's mouth. as if thunderstruck patrick lay for a moment with the boot in his mouth, then with both hands he gave the leg a shove over his head, severely scraping his face and nose by the operation. then rising to a sitting posture, with his mouth and eyes half-filled with mud, he demanded in a voice that spoke his rage : “by the howly saint patrick, what do ye mane ?” “mean?” says tom, quite unconcerned. “ yis, what do ye mane by putting yer dirty fut in me mouth ?” i ? (170) “i beg your pardon, mr. fagan.” the florida campaign of 1836. 171 a “oh, was that your mouth ? i beg your pardon, mr. fagan, i didn't mean to do it. i beg your pardon, my darling; just let me wipe off the injury, mr. fagan,” and be drew his coat-sleeve across his face. “stop, stop,” said patrick, "yer makin' it worse nor it was.' " “how-what?” inquired tom. why, ye've plasthered me eye up wid dough,” replied fagan, as he scraped away at his half-whitewashed countenance. "i beg your pardon, mr. fagan," said tom, as he gathered up a handful of pine straw and leaves, and offered to polish him off as clean as a whistle. “niver mind, niver mind,” replied patrick, as he continued to spit and brush away at his mouth and eyes. fagan becoming satisfied that the sudden blockading of his port of entry was the result of accident, manifested no further disposition of hostility, and again stretched himself upon the ground, and presently resumed his tirade against the officers. but what was his surprise, when, in the midst of his eloquence, the same muddy boot was again thrust in his mouth. this could be no accident, and patrick whirled up in a fury. “now, mr. georgia stag, what the divil do ye mane ?” “now, mr. fagan, what do you mean by biting me like a dog when i'm asleep?" “is it biting ye, ye dirty bla guard ye? didn't ye put 172 major jones. a yer dirty fat in me mouth, and may the divil burn ye for it, ye white-whiskered liar, ye.” “you try to bite me again, you irish bull-dog, and i'll kick your teeth down your throat.” patrick was stumped, and as in all probability a similar misunderstanding would occur if he remained where he was, he resolved to get rid of a bad acquaintance the best way he could, so he staggered off to the officer of the guard. “lieutinant,” said he, “i can't sthop under that shanty ony longer." why not?” demanded the officer. “ bekase there's a chap there that's all the time putting his d-d dirty fut in me mouth.” “well, keep your mouth shut then," was all the satisfaction poor patrick received, and he walked off in search of a spot where he might rest secure from the intrusions of the georgia stag, a character entirely beyond his comprehension. after the desertion of mr. fagan tom also withdrew from the guard-tent and joined the party around the fire. he was covered with dough, and he found no difficulty in obtaining a place in the crowd, for each avoided coming in contact with him, as they would avoid having their wardrobes starched to excess. when he had taken a survey of the dejected countenances assembled round the fire, he uttered a hoarse laugh, and commenced his favorite song: a the florida campaign of 1836. 173 “oh, young man, come and take me,” etc. a half-drowned fellow who stood near him, with the visor of his cap behind, to turn the water from his shoulders, and his blanket gathered tightly round his shrivelled form, asked in a plaintive tone of voice, “ tom, how do you stand it? don't you think this a little too tough ?” “pooh, man, this is the glory of the camp; you are now enjoying the pleasures of a soldier's life," and slapping the interrogator upon the shoulder, he sang, “ah, the delights that a soldier knows,” etc. “delight, indeed; well, they're welcome to it for me. i'd rather be a negro on a rice-plantation for life, than a soldier for twenty-four hours." “what's that you say, 'red horse ?' if you say anything against the life of us soldiers, i'll pull one of your bushy whiskers off. ha! ha! boys, you don't appreciate the blessings you enjoy." “how happy's the soldier who lives on his pay, spends half a crown out of a sixpence a day; he fears neither devil, nor bailiffs, nor bombs, but pays all his debts with the roll of his drums. with his row—with his row de dow, dow,” etc. the merry humor of the singer was irresistible, and though the storm raged and the smoke streamed into our faces, the reckless spirit of our comrade soon became infec174 major jones. tious, and when he came to the chorus, several voices joined in “with his row-with his row de dow, dow,” etc. the rain continued to descend without intermission; to sleep was impossible; there was no refuge from the storm, and our only alternative was to cluster round the fire, and endeavor to keep warm if we could not keep dry. the warm steam rose from one side while the cold stream ran down the other. it was a borrible night, and horribly did some of the old soldiers curse their stars that they should be on guard on such a night; and i must confess that i could scarce refrain from wishing that —'s toothache might last a thousand years, just because he had chosen to indulge it on that particular night. after the expiration of four hours, we were again summoned to resume our posts. towards morning the clouds cleared away, the rain ceased, and the glorious sun rose in all its splendor, imparting a cheering and a genial warmth to all. the lively notes of the morning reveillé banished all recollections of past suffering, and as the parade and pageant of military usage brought us into action, and excited in us a spirit of emulation, the breast of the patriot soldier experienced an emotion of pleasure which richly repaid him for all the privations and hardships which his duty to his country required that he should suffer. the florida campaign of 1836. 175 number four. fort drane-night in camp-patrick fagan ant) phelim o'brien-johnny hogan and the ghost. how often in my moments of retrospection does memory revert to the pleasant sojourn of our corps in the encampment at fort drane, previous to our march with general scott to tampa. beloved lang syne !-how many are the thrilling associations connected with the recollection of our adopted home.* with the remembrance of thy tented field and rude defence, thy sultry plain and shady groves, are associated, “the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, the spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fifc, the royal banner, and all quality, pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war.” to those who participated in those trying scenes, that once familiar spot will be stamped on the tablets of their memory as a bright oasis in the wilderness; nor will it be less dear to the recollection of georgians as the homestead of him who was their friend in the hour of privation and peril,—the brave and generous clinch. * during the marches and counter-marches performed by the corps while in florida, fort drane, or lang syne, was always spoken of as our adopted home. 176 major jones. > for some three or four weeks after our arrival at the fort we were obliged to remain inactive, with little other duty to perform than what pertained to the security and comfort of our camp. when not on guard or engaged in drilling, the time was spent in sauntering about the parade-ground, or lying in the shade of our tents, discussing the “camp news" of the day, and in exchanging ideas upon topics connected with the approaching campaign. after tattoo, it was cus. tomary to assemble round our camp-fires, where the hours pássed merrily off, till the dying embers and our heavy eyelids admonished us to retire to our tents. not unfrequently were we entertained at our nightly conversaziones by a straggling regular or so, whom we always welcomed to a seat, with a cordiality proportioned to their convivial powers, and many, indeed, were the strange stories and quaint jests with which they “did beguile us of our ears," not unfrequently “setting the whole camp-fire in a roar.” one dark night we were seated round a cheerful, blazing fire; the little barber, who boasted his english nativity, had just concluded his favorite song, "the sea, the sea, the hopen, hopen sea,” in the execution of which he imagined hiniself not a jot behind braham, when patrick fagan came staggering up, and seated himself upon the slab which had been raised to the dignity of a bench by the insertion of two wooden legs at each end. the florida campaign of 1836. 177 > “the top is the mornin' til ye, gintlemen,” said patrick, as he seated himself. “you're mistaken, patrick, it's not morning yet,” replied one in answer to what was meant as a most courteous salutation. “well, well, it's all wan betwixt friends,” replied pat, evidently bothered at the blunder he had committed. “it's all wan betwixt friends. i know what grammar is as well as the next, but ye see, the fact is, gintlemen, i'm a little beside mesilf, jist at this present writin', for i seed a nagur the night wid a heart as white as the best of yees.” “how do you know his heart was white, patrick?” “why, ye see, i happened to come across the chap jist as he was comin' out iv a petate-hole wid a bag iv the petates. 'look here, blacky,' sez i. 'stop,' sez he, don't say a word,' sez be; and wid that he pulled out a bottle, and shuck it. 'it's rum,' sez he; and i hadn't more nor put it till me head afore he was out o' sight.” “give me your hand, patrick fagan,” cried a dozen in a breath. “i knew your people in ireland,” said one. “ you're a gentleman of the first liquor," said another. “i'll stand to your back, and see your brains knocked out,” exclaimed a third. “i'm your friend in prosperity," said the fourth. sthop! sthop!” cried patrick, as they all rushed round 12 178 major jones. him in their pretended eagerness to participate in his good fortune. “sthop! sthop! gintlemen, it's all gone; divil the dhrop's left in the world." “gone !” exclaimed one, in a desponding voice. "all gone!” cried another; “out, you guzzler !” . "ain't you ashamed of yourself, patrick fagan, to swill down a whole bottle, without treating your particular friends!” patrick felt the sudden “haul of the wind,” and would have given the coat on his back if he had not mentioned the circumstance. « oh, it's divil the dhrop there was more nor a good dhram in the bottle, and there's phelim o'brien that drunk the best part o' that.” “don't lie about it, pat.' “by my troth, it's the truth that i'm spakin'-here's phelim comin', and you can ax him." phelim o'brien was a tall, robust fellow, rather above the middle stature, with a good-humored irish face; and being a man of some intelligence, his society at the campfire was as much relished for his better qualities, as was that of little patrick for his ignorance and stupidity. as phelim approached, patrick called out: “didn't i trate you to the best part iv the bottle, phelim o'brien?” phelim stopped short, and throwing all the contempt اہ لان tilr -1/ . مررره “sthop, gintlemen, its all gone; divil the drop's left in the world." (179) . the florida campaign of 1836. 181 into his face which his features were capable of expressing, replied: “if the looking into an empty stable is stalin' the horse that's gone, then i drunk your liquor. divil the drop , above what would wet the tip iv my tongue did ye lave me.” patrick raised both hands as well as he could, and exclaimed: “oh, murther! at the ungrateful blackguard.” as phelim took his seat on the opposite side of the fire, the general laugh excited by patrick's discomfiture quite drowned the execrations which followed his exclamation. the conversation then took a change, and phelim, whose left arm was in a sling from a wound received at the battle of the withlacoochie, gave us many interesting particulars connected with that gallant affair, not, however, without frequent interruption from patrick, who swore that “phelim o'brien could bate the divil himself at a lie." “ it's very dark to-night,” remarked one, as we heard ' the picket-guard challenging the relief. “ you may say that,” replied patrick, who seemed anxious to have a share in the conversation, “and if i was as vy a liar as phelim o'brien, i'd keep a sharper lookout : :)-night for the divil nor iver i did for indians.” phelim cast a look around the fire expressive of his contempt for the speaker, but deigned no reply. “i should not like to be on picket-guard to-night,” said one, as he gave the burning chunks a stir. » a a 182 major jones. > " " а > “nor i, especially if i had the post by the tree in rear of the pickets,” said a fellow in a half-gape and half-yawn. “that ghost that came so nigh frightening wto death will be there to-night, for certain. poor fellow, i fear he'll never recover his wits ; he don't know the buit from the muzzle of his musket, ever since he fired it that night.” “that was the ghost of ould hicks," replied patrick. it's no wonder he comes afther yees, whin ye wint an pulled the ould body out iv his grave. but i'll tell ye what," continued he with a drunken leer, “ i'd like to captiwate another black ghost wid a bag o'porates and another bottle o' rum, any time.” “ did you ever see a ghost, pat?” inquired one in a serious tone of voice. “to be sure; there's plinty o’them in the ould counthry, but they hates the smell of whusky as the divil hates houly wather.” “that accounts for your escape then, pat; your breath was always too strong for them.” “that's a fact, for didn't i always take a dhrop wheniver i wint to a wake, or wheriver they were ?” "well, boys, it's near bed-time; let us have a ghost story and adjourn. come, phelim, you are from the old country, tell us of the ghosts." “i'll tell you about johnny hogan's ghost, but that's no story, for it's thrue as preachin'." > the florida campaign of 1836. 183 a “well, huzza for johnny hogan's ghost !—silence, boys, for johnny hogan's ghost. “i'll warrant phelim's as good at a lie as the next," muttered patrick. “silence, silence ! for johnny hogan's ghost !” when the whole company had relapsed into profound silence, phelim resumed in a serious tone of voice : “it was whin i belonged to the 23d infantry, and we were stationed near a small town in the south iv ireland, that the matter which i'm goin to tell yees happened. johnny hogan was a messmate o’mine, and a clever fellow, too, in his way, but the whole regiment couldn't perduce his equal for blusterin' and braggin'. take his word for it, an he wasn't afeard iv witches, fairies, ghosts, hobgobblings, nor even the divil himself, and when the men who bad seed evil spirits prowlin' about when they were on post tould him about thim, he always laughed at them for cowards, and swore by the houly saint patrick, he would shoot the first wan iv thim that tuck it into his head to pay him a visit. one dark night, jist such a night a . as this, it happened to be johnny's time to be on picket-guard. johạny hogan had bin on post about an hour, whin the church-bell of the village struck twelve, and just as the last stroke died away, he heard a deep groan, proceedin' out o'the ground close to where he was standin', and whin he turned to look, what should he see but a tall white figure risin' slowly out o' the ground. johnny's hair stood up 184 major jones. like bristles, and he gasped for breath, but he was determined to challenge the awful tall figure, if it was ghost or divil. so he brought his gun to his shoulder and called out in a faint voice, 'who goes there ?' for he didn't know but it was somebody thrying to fool him. the tall figure niver spoke a word, but seemed to get taller and taller, and stretched out his long arm towards johnny, and beckoned to him as if he wanted to say something private wid him. but johnny stood his ground like a man, and axed him again like a true souldier, 'who goes there? speak,'sez he, or i'll fire! and wid that he cocked his gun; but the tall figure niver minded the click o' the lock, no more nor it had been a pop-gun. that kind iv scared johnny worse, for he knowed nothin' but a ghost could hear the click iv his musket vidout speakin'. his knees begun to feel weak, but he was determined not to back out, and was jist going to pull the thrigger, when the tall figure said in a hollow woice: “i've come for ye, johnny hogan, and you must go wid me to the cowld, cowld grave,' and thin he guv an awful groan, and stretched out his arms wide enough to grasp the whole regiment. “i can't lave mc post widout orders,' sez johnny. " follow me,' sez the ghost. " niver,' sez johnny. ". then i'll take ye wid me,' sez the ghost. “i'll see ye d—d first !' sez johnny, pluckin' up coura 2 666 the florida campaign op 1836. 185 age, seein' the ghost talked the same brogue wid himself. wid that the tall figure walked towards johnny wid his arms reached out to take hould iv him. «« stand and give the countersign !' sez johnny. “the grave,' sez the ghost. « not correct,'sez johnny, and wid that he fired; but ; the ghost niver stopped at all, though he wasn't more nor a foot from the muzzle. the nixt moment he had johnny around the waist. sargeant o' the guard! sargeant o'the guard !-murther !-houly saint patrick pertect me!' shouted johnny, as he felt the cowld arms o'the ghost around him. he heard a deep groan 'to the grave,' thin the ghost guv him a squeeze, and johnny niver know'd anything more till he found himself in the guard-tint, where he had been carried by the relief." “ then it wasn't a ghost after all ?” inquired several, who had sat in breathless silence during the whole narration. “no, it was all a trick played on johnny by a messmate, to cure him iv his braggin' purpiosities.” “but wasn't he afraid johnny would shoot him ?” “not wid no ball in his gun; he tuck care to draw the ball before johnny wint on post. he got the sheet and a little flour from the drummer's wife, and afther he guv johnny the squeeze, and left him sinseless upon theground, he ran into his tent, brushed the flour from his face, and > 186 major jones. was among the first to hear the awful account of the whole matther from johnny, who liked never to recover from the fright, and couldn't spake a word till he'd swallowed a pint iv the crathur.” patrick, who had become envious of the popularity which phelim had acquired at the fire, now became very insolent and quarrelsome with his rival. “it's a big lie from beginning to ind,” said he, with a contemptuous sneer at the narrator, who sat on the end of a log, smoking a short pipe which he held in his teeth. “now jist keep yer tongue to yerself, ye little spalpeen," replied phelim, kindling at the insolence of one whom he considered so far his inferior. “if the gintlemen hadn't . more perliteness nor you have breedin', they'd ordher ye away from the fire." “ i'm as welcome here as yerself, ye lying thief o' the world; didn't ye stale the captain's rations, ye bla’guard ?” “yer a liar !" replied phelim. the next moment the pipe which he was smoking was broken into twenty pieces by patrick, who sprang like a cat across the fire, and dealt him a blow full in the mouth. in another moment the dexter arm of the wounded phelim was raised, and descended upon the head of poor patrick with the force of a sledge-hammer, which sent him with such velocity to the ground, that his heels few up, and he actually made two distinct kicks heavenward before his lower extremities again reached the earth. phelim then > a 1 the florida campaign of 1836. 187 picked up a barrel-stave and addressed the prostrate patrick: “now gather yerself up, and take yerself off from here, or i'll break ivery bone in the d—d dirty hide iv ye.” after a moment patrick fagan did gather himself up and take himself away, casting a subdued look at the company about the fire, as he took his departure, but without uttering a word. it had now grown late; the smouldering chunks were nearly extinguished, and we retired to our tents to dream of johnny hogan and the ghost. number five. the general's horse. during the whole campaign i do not believe that there was a single court-martial convened in the wing of the army to which our corps belonged, and i am certain that there was not a single individual in the company who was either officially arrested, tried or punished. the greatest penalty inflicted upon any of our members was, on one or two occasions, when a rather turbulent fellow was required to keep in his tent for a few hours, by our own officers. the very judicious remarks of colonel lindsay, on mustering а. 188 major jones. us into service were not made in vain; and i shall always consider that the brief address delivered to us on that occasion produced much of that spirit of subordination and soldier-like bearing for which our corps were so highly complimented by our commanding generals, scott and clinch. but the same cannot be said of other branches of the florida army. indeed quite the reverse was the case in some of the volunteer battalions belonging to the left wing, or colonel lindsay's command. speaking of these troops, one of their commanding officers remarked that “one might storm h–ii with such men, if he could but command them," which would seem to imply that want of discipline was their greatest fault. courts-martial with them were as common as reveille. while our wing was encamped on the beach, at tampa, a friend who belonged to colonel lindsay's command, which was then encamped in the vicinity of fort brooks, on the opposite bank of the hillsborough, invited me to dine with him. accordingly, after procuring permission to leave the camp, i accompanied my friend to his quarters. he was admirably well skilled in the cuisine of the camp, and was au fait in the science of frying fritters, in which particular lie excelled to such an eminent degree as to render it the common boast of his mess, that when he was cook, “every paunch, till it can hold no more, is fritter filled as well as heart can wish." the florida campaign of 1836. 189 a and then he was a perfect ude in the art of boiling peas, to cook which i have often tried, but always failed, until initiated by him into the culinary mystery. in return for his kindness i showed him how to make a withlacoochee razee, * and by our united skill a dinner was produced such as had not greeted my palate for many a day; and with a canteen of sour wine, wbich we procured from the sutler, we were enabled to make a sumptuous meal. we had completed our repast, and were sitting beneath the shade of my friend's tent, talking of events in either army; he telling me the “fortunes, sieges he had passed," and i recounted mine to him, when our attention was attracted by a dialogue something like the following: “i don't care a d-n! i didn't come here to build brick ovens for other folks to bake bread in. i came here to hunt indians.” “yes, but you know that's the general's orders, and you must take your turn with the rest.” “i tell you i'm no brick mason, and i'm not agoing to do any such thing." * the withlacoochee razee was a very popular dish with the blues, and takes its name from having been invented by them at a time when their rations were very short, while encamped on the banks of the withlacoochee. on that occasion the haversacks were emptied of the crumbs of bread which were left, which, being put into a tin-cup with a few small pieces of bacon or fat pork, were stewed to what was called " perfect razee.” it afterwards became a popular dish, and whole biscuits were often broken up and stewed in like manner. a 190 major jones. “yes, but you must!" “no, but i won't !” “then you'll have to ride the general's horse again, as sure as fate.” well, i'd rather do that than tote brick and mortar.” “then i must report you." “well, report and be d-d, for what i care. let them build the oven who want biscuits baked in it-i bake my bread in the ashes." “ very good; i shall report you,” was the reply, and the dialogue ceased. “what's all that about ?” i inquired of my friend, who had been laughing heartily all the while. why,” says he," they had us building a large oven here, to bake army bread in; for which purpose a detail of three men from each company is regularly taken every day. they had me there yesterday, making mortar all day. but they've detailed bill jenkins to-day, i see, who would rather fight than work at any time, and would rather ride the general's horse, as they call it, than either.” “i wonder who wouldn't," i replied; “i'd take that job off bill's hands myself, for the remainder of the campaign.” “ you would, eh !" smiled my friend ;“i fear you'd rue it if you did. i rather expect our general's horse is not the . i nag you take him to be.” “no? what, is he skittish ?” > the florida campaign of 1836. 191 a “oh, no; gentle as a lamb.” “ bad gait then, i suppose ?" “not at all, wouldn't know that he was moving in a day's ride.” “what are his objectionable qualities, then ?" i inquired with some curiosity. “ nothing that you have hinted at,” replied my friend laughingly; "if you'll step out here upon the parade-ground i'll show him to you.' we took a few steps from the tent and my friend pointed to a large rough pine log which was supported by three legs raised about ten feet from the ground. “there,” said he," there is our general's horse; if you are anxious to mount, he is at present at your service, though i think, from what the corporal said, bill jenkins will take an airing on him this evening.” of course i declined the honor. “then this is the way you punish delinquents, is it?” “yes, we either mark time, or ride the horse; some prefer walking, others like to ride. bill's sure to take the horse.” i had some little curiosity to see the termination of bill's case; the more so as my friend had described him to be a droll genius, and one who generally took such matters very coolly, and bore their affliction with the resignation of a soldier. bill's contempt of orders was inmediately laid before the 192 major jones. court-martial then in session, and the corporal returned to see judgment executed upon him. “i told you so, bill," said the corporal approaching, "you are to mount the horse." “well, i always said if ever i volunteered to hunt indians again, that i should prefer belonging to a horse-company,” said bill; “i'm ready; where's the hostler ?” the corporal posted off after the supernumerary guard, whose duty it is on such occasions to guard the prisoner, but who, when there is no special duty of this kind to perform, generally lies in the shade and sleeps, while he whose luck it is to belong to the regular guard is doing duty. the corporal approached a large, lazy-looking fellow, who lay snoring in the shade of an orange tree, and shaking him by the leg, " " i say, johnson, johnson, wake up and get your gun; you must go and do duty at the horse.” johnson rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes. “ what—eh–i don't belong to that relief—i'm su-pernu-mer-ray-ry-oh”— and went to sleep again. “pshaw !-pshaw !-wake up,” said the corporal, giving a harder shake than before. “hello! hello!" grunted johnson, rubbing his eyes as if he would rub them out," what do you want ?” the corporal explained, and johnson got upon his feet, stretching, gaping, and grumbling. the corporal marched his prisoner off to his horse. johnson was as mad as venthe florida oampaign of 1836. 193 geance at bill, who only laughed at the ill-humor of his hostler, as he called him, reminding him that such little jobs were common to folks concerned in livery stables. after coaxing his charger to be gentle, and complaining of the manner in which he had been curried and fed, for all which neglect he blamed johnson, bill asked the corporal for a “leg up," and mounted. as soon as fairly settled in his seat, he commenced urging him forward, as if he were backing horse flesh “ for true.” “get up-get up, you lazy tacky!” said bill. “i say, mr. hostler, give me a switch; this is a doukey'vot von't yo,' as the song says.” “i wouldn't be such a fool,” said johnson, as he paced to and fro by the side of the horse, looking sulkily at the ground without raising his head. “hut-tut!” said bill,“ don't be crusty, my old boy; i know you feel a little chagrined to see me so well mounted, while you are on foot, but who knows but it may be your turn next?” not by a jugful,” said johnson, tartly, “i don't make such a fool of myself.” “well, johnson, perhaps you would make a fool of yourself; 'taint every one can bear promotion, you know.” “oh, you're a fool, and i wish you was out of the company, for you're eternally putting some one to trouble. i needn't done a turn to-day, but for you; now i've got to a 13 194 major jones. > walk up and down here all day in the sun, just because you are too d-d lazy to do your share of the work." “don't take it so hard, my dear fellow; my rozinante can carry double, and if you'll just stir him up with your frog-sticker there, till we come to a stump, you may get on behind.” “how smart! i wish you wouldn't talk to me." well, now, i didn't mean to offend. i've seen the time i'd be glad to get a seat behind.” thus bill jenkins continued to bore and gibe the surly supernumerary, until he wrought upon his choler to such a degree that he even threatened to pull him off the horse and beat him. when johnson was relieved, “the new body-guard,” as bill called him, was harassed in like manner. presently the officer of the day and one or two of the commanding general's staff passed near the horse. on seeing them approach, bill commenced patting his rozinante on the side. “who-a-who-a! gentle, my bonny nag,-who-a— who-a!" said bill, as with his left hand he raised his cap to salute them. the officers, endeavoring not to notice bim, altered their course so as to avoid approaching nearer. “don't be alarmed, gentlemen, he'll not kick!-who-awho-a, gentle now! he's very tractable, even the thunder of tab florida campaign of 1836. 195 the withlacoochee couldn't startle him-who-a, bonny! i would recommend him to the general himself.” the officers laughed outright and passed on. thus bill jenkins sat upon his horse like the bronze statue at charing cross, regardless of the penetrating rays of the sun, or the gibes and jeers of his fellow-soldiers, until evening parade, when he was released; and though i did not envy him his ride, i could not but admire the waggish sang froid which he exhibited in turning into sport, even the infliction of a ride, before the whole army, upon the “general's horse." what happened in the sugarcamps of the mahoning valley. а " a 6 “maple-sugar! what's maple-sugar ?" asked my little grandson, whose attention had been attracted by a placard in a shop-window bearing these words. “it is a kind of sugar," said i, "made from the sap of the maple-tree.” “trees, grandpa! how can the people grind the trees ?” they don't grind the trees, as we do the cane," i. replied; "they tap them." “tap them!” he repeated. “how tap them, grandpa ? what for ?" “to obtain the sap from which the sugar is made.” but this explanation did not satisfy the curiosity which the placard had excited, and, after i had procured for him a few small cakes of the “maple-sugar,” which he declared was “as sweet as candy,” i was compelled to go into a long explanation of the manner in which maple-sugar is obtained (197) 198 major jones. from the sap of the maple-tree, so different from the process by which cane-sugar is made. and this explanation carried me back half a century to the days of my boyhood, and brought up recollections of some of the happiest hours of my life spent in the sugarcamps near my native village in ohio. how strange that a trivial circumstance should have awakened in my mind the recollection of scenes and occurrences of early childhood, as vividly as if they were of yesterday! but so it is. as we advance in life, daily passing events fade from our recollection almost with their occurrence, seemingly crowding each other from our thoughts, while the impressions of our youthful days remain indelibly impressed upon the tablets of our memory. while i write, the scenes, incidents, and pleasures of my experience in the sugar-camps of the mahoning valley, more than fifty years ago, are fresher in my recollection than many of the most important events of my life that have occurred within the few years past. “sugar-making time !” how many pleasant memories are associated in my mind with these words-memories of boyhood, of parents, family, home, in the wild west, long, long ago! but i must not indulge the reflections which these memories inspire. i have something to say about maple-sugar making, and a little story, a true story, connected therewith, to relate; and to this task i address myself, before my thoughts are driven into another, perhaps a neutralizing, channel. the sugar -camps of mahoning valley. 199 a what is now the flourishing city of ravenna, at the time of which i write, about the year 1816, might have been very appropriately called a western “white-oak opening." it was, however, called a town, and, though comprising only some twenty or thirty families, with as many hewn log and frame houses, two taverns, three or four stores, a school-house, blacksmith's shop, two doctors' and two or three lawyers' offices, shoemaker and tailor shops, claimed some importance in the new world of the western reserve as the county-seat of portage county. as such, of course, it had a court-house and a jail—the former a rather pretentious, two-story, frame building, which served also for a church; the latter a substantial structure of hewn logs. the town occupied the crown of a gentle eminence, the main streets or roads leading away from the public square in the centre at right angles, in strict conformity with the points of the compass—the court-house being in the centre of the square, and so exactly upon the summit that the water which fell from the eaves on the south side flowed, through varions channels, into the atlantic ocean, while that which fell from the north side found its way into the gulf of mexico. this is a notorious and not uninteresting fact, and, if the levels have not changed with everything else since that day, the rains of summer and the dissolving snows of winter take the same directions from the roof of the grander edifice which now occupies the site of the old court-house of my boyhood days. 200 major jones, this portion of the western reserve, or the "new england western reserve," as it was called, had received its pioneer settlers only a year or two before the breaking out of the war of 1812. up to within a very short period before the war, the country had been occupied almost exclusively by the indians (the name of the tribe i forget), who had, however, entirely disappeared after the close of the war, in which they had been engaged as allies of the british. the surrounding forests still contained traces of them, such as ruined huts, mounds, and graves, and the nursery was entertained with stories of their savage cruelty, while the walls of the taverns and other public places, and some private houses, were adorned with rudely drawn and gaudily painted pictures, representing scenes of the fearful massacres which they had perpetrated in the vicinity. small farms had been laid out for the distance of a mile or two around the town, but beyond, the country was almost an unbroken wilderness. the land was of the richest quality, and the timber extremely heavy, so that the opening of farms by the settlers, most of whom were poor and obliged to rely upon their own labor, was a slow and tedious operation. but, already the hardy pioneer bad made his mark upon the primeval forest, and had begun that system of persevering, self-reliant industry, frugality, and enterprise, which was not long in converting the idle wilderness into fruitful fields, and which has since built towns and large cities, railroads, canals, and manufactories, and made а the bugar-camps of mahoning valley. 201 > ohio one of the wealthiest and most populous states of the union. in the northeasterly direction, some three or four miles from the ravenna settlement, lay the valley of the mahoning. this valley was densely and heavily timbered, so densely that the sunlight was scarcely ever reflected from the bosom of the small stream which gave it its name, and which, fed by numerous tributary brooklets, pursued its tortuous course to unite its crystal waters with those of the beaver river, which flows into the ohio. the forests of the valley comprised the usual variety of trees peculiar to this portion of the west—various species of the oak, beech, ash, hickory, walnut, poplar, birch, and maple—the sugarmaple largely predominating. hence the valley might have been called one vast sugar-camp. as such it had been used by the indians, traces of whose rude system of sugar-culture were still to be seen, the only visible evidences that these trackless solitudes had ever been invaded by man. there was a solemn grandeur and beauty in the wild, unbroken forest, where the thick-standing trees reared their stately trunks far above, and the interlacing branches, even when stripped of their foliage, afforded but glimpses of the blue canopy overhead. no path save the faded trail of the now departed indian, or the dim trackway of the wild deer, traversed this vast solitude. no sound but the cry of the panther, the howl of the wolf, or the hoot of the owl, at night, or the call of the wild turkey, and the drum of the 202 major jones. a pheasant, in the daytime, waked the echoes of those sylvan depths. even the hunter scarcely ever penetrated the dark and trackless woods in search of game, which at that time he found in abundance nearer the settlements. only in the spring was the valley invaded, and then only during “sugar-making time.” this occurred about the middle of march, and continued generally about three weeks, extending sometimes into april, according to the backwardness or forwardness of the season. at this season it was customary to locate what were called sugar-camps in the mahoning valley, and those who worked them not only made sugar enough to supply their families for the year, but a considerable surplus for sale. “sugar-making time” was looked forward to with great interest, especially by the young, not only because it brought that most delicious of all sweet things-hot maple-sugar—but because it afforded an opportunity for the enjoyment of the novelty and freedom of camp-life in the woods. it was fashionable, too, among the families of the settlement, to go "a-sugarmaking ;” and the children whose fathers had no sugarcamp were esteemed especially unfortunate. the labor of sugar-making was very rough and arduous, but there was sometbing so attractive in camp-life, that young men, who had no special fondness for hard work, were always on hand at “sugar-making time.” my father was the fortunate lessee of a very large sugarcamp, comprising about one thousand of the finest sugarthe sugar-camps of mahoning valley. 203 maple trees. this camp had in former years been worked by the indians. a tragedy had occurred there, and more than one wild legend had invested the place with a fearful interest in the minds of the ignorant and superstitious. * * * in the care of a hired man, a young german by the name of muttinger, in whom my mother placed every confidence, i had been permitted to go to the camp, to remain till the close of the season, which was nearly spent. the camp was worked by three young men, including muttinger, under the direction of my father, who paid it frequent visits, but rarely remained in camp over night. i staid in camp some two weeks, all of which time, until the last night, was to me one uninterrupted experience of enjoyment. i was a favorite with the young men, especially with mr. muttinger, who allowed me the largest liberty, and did everything in his power to make my time pass happily. he permitted me to ride on the sledge with him when he went to gather sap, showed me how to broil bacon on the end of a stick, and how to bake hoe-cakes; let me eat as much sugar as i could, made sugar-eggs and sweethearts and other sugar toys for me, allowing me occasionally to have a “stirring off” of my own, for which purpose he fixed me up a miniature boiling-place for my kettle, and took care that i had a snug place in the straw and blankets at night. every day had its pleasures and excitements. a deer or a turkey was killed—there was 204 major jones. lots of sugar, lots of good eating, and lots of fun-and, surfeited with enjoyment, i went nightly to my straw and i blankets to enjoy sound sleep and pleasant dreams. the only drawback to my perfect happiness was the consciousness that each day drew nearer the time for breaking up the camp. the red buds were beginning to tip the spray of the maple trees, showing that the sugar-making season was near its close. the flow of sap had already begun to diminish, and some of the smaller camps in the valley were breaking up. the close of the season was a period of visiting and merry-making among the sugar-makers, many of whom were germans, who had their families, wives and daughters with them, and every night there was a frolic in some one of the camps. occasionally we had friendly visits from our neighbors, but, as a general thing, our camp was avoided, especially by the young boys and girls, in consequence of certain superstitious associations connected with its history. i have before alluded to the fact that a mysterious tragedy had occurred in our camp. an old squaw, the wife of a noted indian chief, who had been left alone in the camp for a short time—so the story ran—was, on the return of her friends, found dead, her head and shoulders resting in a kettle of boiling syrup. by some it was supposed that she had fallen into the kettle. but there were also suspicions of foul play, and a white man, a trapper, of a the sugar-camps of mahoning valley. 205 notorious bad character, between whom and the chief there existed an old feud, was strongly suspected of having murdered his wife in revenge. shortly after the death of the squaw, the trapper mysteriously disappeared, and it was uncertain whether he had fled or had been disposed of by the indians. the grave of the squaw, marked by a mound of earth and logs, was situated only a short distance from our boiling-place, and was passed by the sugar-makers in the twilight, or later in the night, with feelings of superstitious dread, while it was strictly maintained by many that the old squaw's ghost did not rest quietly, but roamed through the camps, especially in dark and stormy nights. several had seen her apparition, and the stories that were related of her appearance were of the most frightful and harrowing character. one evening two or three young men from the adjoining camps paid us a visit. after supper, while they were seated before the fire on the rough puncheon benches, enjoying their pipes and the contents of a stone jug, conversation turned on the mysterious death of the old squaw, and the strange stories that were in circulation about her spirit-wanderings through the camps. none of the party present had ever seen her ghost with their own eyes, but other persons, friends of theirs, in whose assertions they placed the fullest reliance, had seen her more than once, on dark stormy nights, riding at full speed through the thick woods, on the white horse which she rode in her lifetime, and which, 206 major jones. > it was said, was killed and buried with her. the descriptions which they gave of her frightful appearance, and the shrieks which she uttered, as, on her phantom steed, she dashed through the dark forest, her long, grizzly hair streaming out, and her garments flapping in the wind, made my hair stand on end, and the blood chill in my veins. it was said that the family to which the old squaw belonged were rich, and as it was the custom of the indians to bury the personal property of their dead with them, it was generally believed that her grave contained a large amount of treasure. “it would be a good thing," said one, “to dig up the old squaw, and get the money that they buried with her.” , “and the silver bands and rings, and brooches as big as a pewter plate, that she used to wear,” remarked another. "yes, that would be very nice; and all that silver is no good in the old woman's grave. but i'd like to see the chap that would run the risk of being haunted all the rest of his life, by digging her up!" “pooh! nonsense !” exclaimed muttinger, knocking the ashes from his pipe. “dat ish all nonsense, all fool-talk. “ if i be sure dere vas money in de old voman's grafe, i wouldn't mind to go for it, no more dan shmokin' mine bipe.” “but suppose her ghost was to come after you, muttinger, what then?" the sugar -camps of mahoning valley. 207 a “ghost der tuyfel ! i ain'd afraid of no old voman spooks, vat scare leetle childrens in de night-time.” muttinger had been a soldier in the war, and had, according to his account, been in many battles, and one of his weaknesses was to boast of his bravery. a long and rather excited discussion was closed with a wager of a jug of whiskey that muttinger would not dare, on the following day, to dig up and bring away the relics of the old squaw. this bet, having been duly ratified and attested by a general shaking of hands, the young men left for their respective camps. on the following day, muttinger was evidently reluctant to perform what he had undertaken, but, impelled by his bet and the hope of plunder, after vainly endeavoring to persuade others to accompany him, he braced his wavering courage with a stiff drink of whiskey, and set out alone on his sacrilegious enterprise. an hour afterwards he returned to camp with his plunder, which consisted of an old, battered, brass kettle, a rusty rifle-barrel, some brass mountings, a tomahawk, several clay pipes, a pair of silverarmlets, a number of silver rings, brooches, and other trinkets, with the jaw-bone of the old squaw, which latter he exhibited in a spirit of triumphant bravado. the news of the robbery of the old squaw's grave soon spread among the camps, and, during the afternoon, many came to view the relics. all reproached muttinger for 208 major jones. 66 what he had done, but especially for bringing away the jawbone, which they urged him to replace in the grave. but muttinger seemed to grow reckless under the remonstrances of his friends, and exercised his wit in ridiculing their sensibility. “take it back, muttinger, if you don't want to see the old squaw's ghost this very night,” said one. “ der tuyfel!” exclaimed muttinger; "what the old voman want mit her jawbone? she can do mitout that, just like she don't vant no more her brass kettle." “ lookout if she don't come after it before to-morrow morning." vel, maybe," said muttinger. “den i vill put it vere she can see it, and she don't get it if she don't climb for it.” so saying, he climbed up one of the forks of the boilingplace, and fastened the jawbone conspicuously on the top. coming down, he laughed heartily at the idea of the old squaw's ghost climbing for the missing portion of her anatomy. as evening approached, the visitors departed, each with a solemn warning to muttinger to be on the lookout for a visit from the old squaw's ghost. but muttinger was too full of whiskey to feel any apprehension of any other spirits, , and only laughed at their admonitions. that night there was to be, in the settlement, some three miles distant, a grand wedding; a wedding of the good old frontier fashion-with a ball and a supper—to which everythe sugar -camps of mahoning valley. 209 a body was invited. one of our sugar-makers had gone home with a sledge-load of sugar and molasses, leaving in camp only muttinger, a young man named wolf, and myself. wolf was extremely anxious to go to captain smith's wedding, but, before he could do so, it was necessary for him to get muttinger's consent for him to be absent for the night. to obtain this, he offered to cut all the wood necessary for the night, and made many strong appeals and tempting promises, all without effect. muttinger was unwilling to be left alone to do all the work of the camp. wolf, however, accidentally struck him in a tender place, and, by what he meant for reproach, accomplished what he failed to gain by persuasion. “ i see,” said he, "you are afraid to stay here alone. you are afraid the old squaw will come after you.” “ 'fraid, der tuyfel !” exclaimed muttinger, starting up. “me, a soldier who has fight enough times mit tousands live indians! me 'fraid of old squaw! chop all de wood, und go und dance mit the gals, like you please. if the old squaw comes here, villiam und me vil dance mit her.” wolf took muttinger at his word. he soon cut and piled, near the boiling-place, enough wood to keep the kettles boiling during the night. then mounting the only horse left in camp, he was soon on his way to captain smith's wedding, not even waiting for supper, which muttinger set about preparing. i was very hungry, and enjoyed with a relish a slice of 14 210 major jones. bacon broiled before the fire on the end of a sharpened stick, a piece of corn hoe-cake, and a bowl of milk.' muttinger ate ravenously, and was in an unusually good humor. as the shades of night drew on, the stars peeped out overhead, and the fire sent forth a soft, mellow radiance upon surrounding objects, lighting up the foreground of the wild scene, as it deepened the shadows beyond; while the blue smoke, mingled with the paler vapor of the boilingkettles, and illumined with bright, red sparks, curled upward to the midnight sky. muttinger, who seemed restless, was unusually busy about the kettles, spilling the sap which he attempted to dip from one kettle to another, and piling on the wood with unwonted prodigality. as he moved around he endeavored to keep me engaged in conversation, and, when i failed him, he whistled or sang his favorite german airs. fatigued with the day's exercise and enjoyment, and drowsy from the effects of a heavy supper, i was not in a talkative mood, and as i sat upon my puncheon stool, looking into the fire, watching the fantastic figures which my fancy pictured in the eddying smoke, it was with difficulty that i could keep awake. muttinger tried every expedient to as he was taking a drink from his brown jug, he insisted on making a toddy for me, which he said would keep me “bright avake all de vile.” the sugar in it commended the prescription to my taste, and i tested its virtues pretty liberally. arouse me. the sugar -camps op mahoning valley. 211 " muttinger lighted his pipe and seated himself to enjoy a smoke, at the same time to entertain me with one of his stories of the war, which he knew i so much loved to hear. “ vil you keep bright avake, now ?” he asked. ob, yes," i replied, “if you will tell me about the battle of brady's lake, where you killed so many indians.” “vel,” said muttinger, "you don't go to sleep, und i vil tell you all about de big fight vat ve had mit the indians dat time. vel, it was a bright, sthar-like night, just like to-night"as he spoke, he raised his eyes-his pipe dropped from his hand, and his gaze seemed riveted upon the top of the boiler-pot, where the old squaw's jawbone shone in the firelight. “look! look!” he exclaimed, in a husky, tremulous voice. it was either the effect of the whiskey on my imagination, or of the flickering firelight, that made the jawbone appear to me as if it were in motion. “oh!” said i, “it's biting at us,” and i ran to our camp-bed and covered my head in the blankets. i could hear muttinger talking to himself, but whether in english or in his native tongue i could not tell. the next moment he seized me by the arm and raised me to my feet. don't you be a little fool cowart like dat,” said he. “no old deat squaw's jawbone don't hurt you, billy. come, sthay mit me.” a " 212 major jones.' “i'm afraid," i replied. “i don't want to look at it any more.” > “ vel,” said he, “i vil put it vere it don't scare nobody.” he climbed up the post, and, seizing the jawbone, threw it in the midst of the fire under the kettles. then, taking me in his lap, he endeavored to banish my foolish fears, by assuring me that when the old jawbone was burned up it could hurt nobody “but,” said i, “mr. stough says the old squaw's ghost rides all over these woods on a white horse, and i'm afraid she'll come after her jawbone. it was wicked to take it from her grave, and worse to burn it up." by this time the sky, which in the early part of the night had been clear, began to be overcast with drifting clouds, and a strong wind swept in fitful gusts among the tree-tops. muttinger seemed very restless and disturbed in his mind. he tried to dissipate my fears, but it was very evident that he was himself not entirely free from apprehensions of evil. he talked incoherently, took another heavy drink, and whistled and sang terribly out of tune. he relit his pipe, and made me sit by him on the bench, near the mouth of the cabin. he grew more and more restless, large drops of perspiration stood on his forehead, and at every gust of wind or strange noise, he would start almost to his feet, exclaiming, “ vat's dat?” ? for myself, my superstitious fears had been wrought up the sugar -camps of mahoning valley. 213 i to a fearful pitch, pot less by the events of the night than by the recollection of the frightful stories i had heard of the old squaw's ghost, and my only refuge was the cover of the blankets or in clinging close to muttinger. muttinger, who by this time had become fearfully demoralized, sought to brace his courage by frequent draughts from his jug, and insisted on my taking another toddy. after i had recovered from the coughing-fit which a drop the wrong way bad occasioned, he slapped me encouragingly on the back, and said: “dat's right, billy! spunk up, spunk up, now, and don't never be 'fraid of spooks nor nothing. i tell you dere never vas no such tings in all de world.” whether it was the effect of the double dose of toddy or the reassuring speech of my companion i cannot say, but i did feel a little more at ease, and was gradually becoming oblivious of the frightful imaginings that had oppressed my mind, when a shrill, unearthly scream, seemingly from the depths of the dark forest, broke upon our ears. “gott in himmel! vat’s dat?” shouted muttinger, springing to his feet and grasping me by the arm. i felt each separate hair rise on end, and my heart, after a sudden bound, ceased to beat. muttinger stood with open mouth and suspended breath, his eyes glaring wildly in the direction whence the unearthly sound came. another wild, blood-curdling scream, nearer than the first, caused muttinger to spring forward, still holding to a 214 major jones. my arm. as we reached the space between the mouth of the hut and the boiling-place, there dashed suddenly past us, in the rear of the blazing fire, a white borse bearing a gigantic female form, with flowing garments, and long white hair streaming on the wind. i was speechless and fixed to the spot. muttinger gave one agonized yell and bounded from me, as the phantomhorse wheeled round the camp-fire toward us, and another wild scream pierced the night. i only remember that muttinger disappeared. i reeled to the puncheon bunk, falling upon which i plunged my head under the straw and blankets. whether i became suddenly insensible from fright, or the liquor i had drunk stupefied my senses, i never was able satisfactorily to determine. but in that moment ended my experiences of that fearful night. when i awoke to consciousness, it was to feel the strong grasp of some one who was endeavoring to draw me from my hiding-place, and from whom, with screams of terror, i struggled to escape. “why, what in the name of creation is the matter with you, willy? who's been here? where's muttinger ?” were the first words i comprehended. looking up, i found myself in the hands of john wolf, who regarded me with utter astonishment. rubbing my eyes and looking round for a moment, i began to comprehend the situation. it was bright daylight. tab 80g ar-camps of mahoning valley. 215 mr. wolf had returned, and i was safe. the fire was out, and only the half-burned logs and chunks remained, from which the thin, blue smoke curled up into the bright morning sunlight. there was a strong smell of burnt sugar in the air, and the kettles were cold and black, some of them half-full of charred sugar. as mr. wolf surveyed the scene in utter dismay, he repeated his question: “why, what upon earth has happened? what has become of muttinger ?” “he's carried off by the old squaw's ghost!” was the only solution i could give to the mystery; and, having by this time become wide awake, i related to mr. wolf the frightful events of the night as they occurred. i had hardly finished my narrative before several persons from the adjoining camps arrived. each had a marvellous story to relate of strange noises heard and strange sights seen in the valley during the night. one had heard the most unearthly screams; another had seen the ghost of the old squaw careering madly through the woods, on her white horse; while another told that, as he and two or three more were playing cards by their camp-fire, the phantom steed and its ghostly rider dashed almost over them, frightening the party nearly out of their senses. others from different parts of the valley came in, each with some fearful tale of the ghostly doings of the night. “but what has become of muttinger ?” was the general inquiry, and i was obliged to rehearse my story, as afford216 major jones. a ing the only explanation of his mysterious disappearance. the fearful anxiety on that individual's account was finally relieved by the arrival of one of the stough boys, from his father's camp on the opposite side of the mahoning, about half a mile distant. from him we learned that about midnight muttinger came running into his father's camp, so paralyzed with fear that he could scarcely articulate, his eyes glaring wildly, his face pale, and his clothes torn and dripping wet. in answer to their questions, he only ground out something about the old squaw's ghost, and soon fell to the ground in a hard convulsion. they forced some whiskey down his throat, rolled aņd rubbed him, and sent for the nearest doctor, who had been with him since daylight, but who had little hopes of his recovery. all this not only corroborated my story, but, in the minds of the superstitious sugar-makers, confirmed the ghostly legends which had been previously current among them; and the excitement throughout the valley became intense. fortunately, it was about the breaking up of the sugar-making season, or much loss would have been sustained by the immediate abandonment of the camps which took place. many could not be prevailed upon to remain another night, but packed up and left that day, while those who were unable to leave so precipitately took good care not to be alone after nightfall. muttinger, partially restored from the effects of his fright, was sent home, but for several days was in a very precarithe sugar -camps of mahoning valley. 217 1 . ous condition. it was many weeks before he was considered to have recovered his right mind. his account of the appearance of the ghost, its pursuit of him through the woods, and his narrow escape by crossing a running stream -which he did by plunging into the half-frozen mahoning, nearly up to his neck—was truly thrilling, and was as religiously believed by most of his hearers as by himself. there were some incredulous persons, however, who laughed at the story of the old squaw's ghost, and gave a different explanation of the thrilling events of that memorable night. for graves, who made the bet of a jug of whiskey with the boasting muttinger, was known to be a most incorrigible wag and practical joker. it had been ascertained that farmer sap's white filly was missing from the stable on that night; and it was rumored that the farmer's daughters, one of whom was joe's sweetheart, had assisted him in getting up a ghostly costume, similar in every particular to that in which the ola squaw's ghost made its night-ride through the sugar camps of the mahoning valley. joe graves stoutly denied any knowledge of that night's doings; but this was accounted for by the fact that it would have been dangerous for him to have done otherwise-at least while muttinger was about. tae burglars of iola. a frontier sketch. chapter i. it was a sultry afternoon in june. the governor had given a small dinner party, and a select company were seated around the table, in the dining hall of the old executive mapsion, an airy, but not very imposing structure, pleasantly situated on an elevation, embowered in shrubbery, distant about a mile east from tallahassee. ample justice had been done to the bountiful repast, and the gentlemen were sipping their sherry, and the ladies mincing the confections, while they listened to a rather prosy story from one of the guests. suddenly, a suppressed cry from one of the ladies startled the company. following the gaze of the terrified lady, all . , eyes were directed towards the door leading from the rear porch into the dining-room, where stood still and statuelike a tall, gaunt, bare-legged indian, his shoulders inclining forward with a slight stoop, and his elfin locks hanging (219) 220 major jones. . over, and partly obscuring the view of his face. immediately in his rear, in the shadow of the vines that clambered over the trellis, stood another tawny balf-naked form, motionless and statue-like as his companion. bidding the ladies not to be alarmed, the governor rose from his seat, and turned towards the indians in the door. as be did so, the nearest drew from his bosom a small roll of dirty brown paper, and seemingly without moving a muscle of his face, or changing the stolid expression of his countenance, said: “ gublerner ?” “i am the governor," said his excellency. ( what brings you here?” “snezer make talk me, yohoto, fetch 'em," at the same time extending the hand in which he held the package. the governor received it, and, removing the brown wrapper, took from it an unsealed and rudely folded letter, which he hastily perused, while the company kept perfect silence. the indians proved to be runners from the apalachicolas, a small tribe, who resided on the river of that name, distant about one hundred miles from tallahassee, and the paper which they bore was a communication from a sutler, or storekeeper, a white man who resided among them. so soon as the governor had mastered the rather difficult chirography, and acquainted himself with the contents of the document, he communicated the same to the company, the burglars of iola. 221 » the purport of which was that colonel blount, as he was called, the chief of the tribe, had been robbed by thieves. “here's a job for you, sir," said his excellency to me. “this business must be attended to immediately. colonel blount's house was broken open night before last, and robbed of a considerable sum of money and other property. the thieves are known to be lurking in the nation, and steps must be taken for their arrest and punishment immediately.” i could not exactly see where my duty lay in the matter, and what job for me could grow out of the circumstance. as the company rose from the table, and adjourned to the veranda to enjoy the evening breeze, the governor directed old ned, the butler, to conduct the indians to the kitchen and see that their wants were bountifully provided for, as it was evident they were both tired and hungry. after some time spent in conversation, during which the rights and the wrongs of the indians were freely discussed, and much sympathy expressed for the poor old chief, and execrations of the robbers, especially by the ladies, the guests took their leave, and, entering their carriages, departed for the city. the governor, summoning me to his office, at once set about arranging his plans. after some deliberation it was determined that i should be dispatched to the natioil, armed with a proclamation from the governor, offering a 222 major jones. reward for the apprehension of the robbers, a letter to the marshal of the ocheese district, in which the reserve of the apalachicolas was situated, instructing him to summon the civil officers and a posse of citizens, if necessary, and use all diligence for the capture of the burglars, and the recovery of the stolen property. the papers were to be got ready for me at once, and i was to take my departure early in the morning. for the journey as far as aspalaga, on the apalachicola river, i was to be furnished with a horse and light jersey wagon, in which to take with me the indian a runners. from aspalaga i was to make my way to ocheese and iola, the indian town, by steamer, if i was lucky enough to meet one of the river boats on her downward passage to apalachicola, or, if i missed the boat, by canoe. the enterprise, or adventure, was exactly to my liking, and i promptly accepted the commission, and at once set about making the necessary preparations for the trip. the balance of the evening was occupied by the governor in preparing his proclamation, letters, and the written instructions by which my proceedings were to be governed. i set old uncle ned to rigging up the harness and putting the wagon in order, while i busied myself in cleaning my double-barrelled gun and pistols, preparing ammunition and rations for myself and the two indians. i retired early to bed that i might make an early start in the morning, but so thoroughly was my mind occupied with the adventure the burglars of iola. 223 before me, that it was far in the night before sleep visited my eyes. early in the morning everything was in readiness for my departure. the horse selected for the service was a fine animal, but unfortunately rather large, both for my harness and the shafts of my wagon. my equipment consisted of a valise containing my papers and a change or two of underclothing, a double-barrelled gun, a couple of blankets, and a wooden chest, in which were contained provisions for myself and my hardy. companions, the indians, and which, occupying a position in the rear of the spring-seat of the vehicle, served as a seat for them. the governor accompanied me to town, where i was to receive the proclamation, which had been printed during the night, and receive my final instructions. on our way to town, as we made the gentle descent to the cascade branch, i observed that the horse held hard and seemed inclined to get away from the wagon, but as we ascended the elevation on the other side, all seemed to be right, and the matter passed from my thoughts. at the old planters' hotel i found several friends, who were curious to know the purpose of my journey, and during the few minutes i had to wait on the governor's movements, a considerable crowd gathered, attracted by my outfit and the indians, who sat bolt upright, silent and motionless as statues, on the chest. my arrangements being completed, i bade good-bye to the crowd, and set out on my 224 major jones. а journey. taking the quincy road, a hundred yards brought me to the brow of the hill, down which the rough uneven road, with deep ditches on either side, descended for a distance of some four hundred yards. as we commenced the descent, i noticed the same disposition on the part of my horse to keep away from the wagon, which he had before manifested, and which i endeavored to restrain. but all my efforts were in vain. his speed increased in spite of the exertion of my utmost strength. rising from my seat i i threw my entire weight upon the lines, but without the least effect. the horse was now in a full canter, the bright shoes of his hind feet flashing above the swingle-tree at. every leap, and the little jersey almost rising from the ground in its fearful velocity. leaning back upon the lines, and turning my head, even in the imminent peril of the moment, i was almost forced to laugh at the ludicrous appearance of he indians, who were evidently for the first time enjoying a ride in a wagon. their usually stolid countenances beamed with delight. “ chilocco incles chi !” exclaimed one to the other, who responded with a hearty · eoca !” i could but think that if they knew the “chilocco” was running away, and the imminent danger which threatened them, they would not be so contented with their situation, nor so decided in their good opinion of the horse. faster and faster we sped. bracing my feet against the front of the wagon, i made one last desperate effort to check the horse's headlong speed, when the left rein snapped and the burglars of iola. 225 looked up, the next moment he leaped the ditch and the fore-wheels of the wagon came in violent collision with the low bank on the opposite side. i was sensible of a terrific shock; in an instant all was chaos, confusion and darkness. with returning consciousness, i found myself attempting to rise from the ground. a sudden and deadly pain in my breast stopped my breath, and i again sank down on the ground in the most intense agony. the pain left me as suddenly as it came, and as i drew a deep breath and i beheld my two travelling companions standing over me, regarding me with countenances so ludicrously anxious that i was forced to smile, to which they instantly responded with demonstrations of joy. first, in their halfindian, half-english gibberish they congratuluated me on my safety, and then began to relate their own experiences. one had a severe cut in the temple, the other a large gash in his leg, and both of them had received severe scratches and bruises. they were evidently much surprised at the catastrophe, and were as unsparing of their abuse of the horse as they had been warm in his praise. "chilocco holanagos chi!" grunted one; “enea—dam loscohicpus chi! too much !” grunted the other, as they examined their hurts. rising to my feet i surveyed the wreck, which strewed the ground in every direction. in the road were the hind wheels of the wagon, 'entirely detached from the body, pieces of which were scattered around. a little distance off were fragments of my camp-chest-here a ham, there a а. 15 226 major jones. cold chicken or a loaf of bread-tin-plates, tin-cups, spoons, knives and forks were scattered about promiscuously. my fine double-barrelled gun lay in the ditch, broken off at the stock, and near it a little whiskey bottle, almost the only thing that had not shared the general smash. some thirty yards from the road, near a large log, were the forewheels of the wagon, and a portion of the shafts, but no horse was to be seen. a faintness came over me, and i sat down upon a log to compose myself, while the indians groped about among the debris after the provisions. their eyes soon spied out the bottle of whiskey, which they brought to me. i recommended them to bathe their wounds with it. but after they had succeeded in drawing the cork, they gave me to understand that they preferred to take an internal application of it, and both helped themselves to good long drinks from the bottle. how long i had remained insensible on the ground, i had no means of knowing. some time must have elapsed during my unconsciousness, for no horse was to be seen in the open woods. the last i had seen of him was his flashing heels as he leaped the ditch. looking up the road towards town, i saw several persons burrying in my direction. they proved to be friends, who seeing the horse dashing through the streets with a portion of the harness hanging to him, concluded that some accident had happened, and had bastened to my assistance. with them i returned to town. the burglars of iola. 227 i discovered that i was pretty severely bruised, but i concealed my injuries as much as possible from the governor, for fear he might determine to send some one to the nation in my stead. it was concluded, however, to defer my journey until the next day, and to dispatch the indians back to the nation with copies of the printed proclamation and information that a messenger from the governor would be there as soon as possible. the next day, after the departure of the indians, it so happened that mr. bacon, the sub-agent, came to town on some matter of business. the governor insisted that he should accompany me to the nation, as he was in duty bound by virtue of his office, to use his best endeavors to discover and arrest the man who had committed the robbery. mr. bacon was a largé, red-faced man, very fat, and without doubt one of the laziest men that ever lived. he was rheumatic and suffered from a chronic inflammation of the eyes, which he aggravated by the habitual use of whiskey. mr. bacon met the governor's proposition with complaints of his bodily infirmities, which unfitted him for the exposure which he would necessarily have to endure on such a mission, and pleaded earnestly to be excused. but the governor would take no refusal, and as it was by favor of his excellency that the sub-agent held his sinecure, he was compelled to yield his objections. another small wagon, similar to the one in which i had a 228 major jones. first set out, having been provided, mr. bacon and myself started the next morning on our journey, the old man in anything but a pleasant humor. his horse, which, with its owner, had been pressed into service, was a fine animal and worked well, but in the very bad condition of the road, owing to recent heavy rains, with such a dead weight of bacon and accompanying baggage, the stoutest horse in christendom would have stalled, and so did he at every hill and every boggy place, when “i, being the youngest," he said, “ought to get out and walk.” sometimes his horse, butler, as he called him, would come to a dead balt. on such occasions i was more than compensated for the inconvenience to myself, by the amusement afforded by the unloading and reloading of bacon which necessarily took place, accompanied as that operation invariably was with volleys of imprecations and groans, and ludicrous lamentations from my ponderous companion, who declared that he expected nothing else than to be laid up with the rheumatism for a month, for getting his feet wet. in his paroxysms he abused the governor for sending him on “sich a cussed business," and uttered the bitterest maledictions on the heads of the infernal red-skins, who were the innocent cause of his trouble. we got on, however, without any serious impediments, until we arrived at aspalaga, on the apalachicola, which we reached on the evening of the following day. here we were to leave our conveyance and proceed by water to lola. the burglars of iola. 229 much to our discouragement, we learned that the boat in which we had anticipated going that distance, had rather anticipated us, and had passed down the river but a few minutes previous to our arrival. our only alternative then was to make the best of our way down the river in a canoe, and, in the hope that we might overtake the boat, which would probably be detained at ocheese, an intermediate town, distant about twenty miles from aspalaga, until the following morning, we resolved to set forth immediately. accordingly after supper, and after mr. bacon had regaled himself with a little gin and sugar, which he recommended as an excellent antifogmatic, and in which indulgence he justified himself on the ground that there was a heavy fog on the river, we procured a canoe and pushed off. i shall never forget that night. it was just dark as we launched our little tottering barque into the broad, deep waters of the apalachicola, which was then unusually high and rapid. as mr. bacon wedged his ponderous weight into one end of the canoe, my end rose out of the water like the bowsprit of a seventy-four, and though i had seated myself in the stern, i soon found my end of the canoe converted into the bow. steady-steady, mr. secretary,” said mr. bacon. “i don't half like this 'ere craft." true," said i, “it is a rather gincumbob sort of a thing, as tom tafrail would say, but i think with our ballast it is quite safe.” " a 230 major jones. you chew humph-safe, eh ?—why, it would turn bottom-up with an ager shake; you can't trim such a thing as this 'ere, unless your tobacco in the middle of your mouth." we had but one paddle, and mr. bacon objected even to use that; first, because he was too lazy to use it himself; and secondly, because he feared if i attempted to propel the boat with it, i might by my efforts upset it. we therefore con, tented ourselves by gliding along with the current, which, to tell the truth, was not very slow travelling. we had not, however, proceeded far, before it became so dark that we could see neither shore, and scarcely could we distinguish each other as we sat in the opposite ends of the boat. it was by no means pleasant. dark and cheerless, with nothing to break the silence of the night save now and then the hoarse bellow of an alligator, the faint rippling of the little whirlpools, or the more rapid dashing of the water as it broke over some sawyer or snag in the middle of the current. mr. bacon was as “dumb as the town-clock of killarney,” save when some uncommon rustling of the water denoted that a breaker was in the vicinity, when he would grunt forth with an effort: “lookout ahead there, mr. secretary, or the next thing we'll be split from stem to stern by some of these 'ere d-d dancing sawyers. i took a cigar from my pocket, and, by the assistance of a locofoco, lighted it and commenced smoking. the burglars of iola. 231 " “have you any more of them 'ere cigars ?" asked my companion. “ i have," i replied, “ best vanillas—will you smoke ?” “ yes, thank you, if for nothing but to keep the muskeeters off.” “but you must meet me half way; if i go to your end of ' the boat, we'll certainly founder.” “i reckon not,” said he. but i was determined to give him some trouble, and insisted that it would not be safe to approach to his end of he hesitated; i gave my cigar a puff, and the spicy fumes of the fragrant vanilla rolled aft and passed his olfactories. he shrugged, gaped, then grunted, and finally made a move towards me with both hands firmly grappled to the sides of the canoe. we approached each other; the boat rocked like a cradle. “cautious, cautious," murmured he. i passed the cigar to him; he groped for it, took it, and i gave him a light. after assuring himself that his cigar was fairly lit, he passed back my lighted cigar and commenced his retreat. in turning to go to my end, i half accidentally and half on purpose stumbled, so as to somewhat disturb the equilibrium of our boat. mr. bacon became terrified, tottered and fell over back, in his hurry to regain his seat, when, unfortunately, his hat became dislodged from his head, and of course tumbled into the river. mr. bacon's affection for his hat was so strong that he was induced to make one desperate effort to regain it, in which he nearly the canoe. > 232 major jones. а upset the canoe. fortunately, however, we only dipped a few quarts of water, and mr. bacon sat down in his place, cursing the cigars and lamenting the loss of his beaver. what was a little remarkable, however, he had, amidst all his terror, retained his cigar, which, in a few minutes after he regained his seat, lighted up his countenance at intervals, as he puffed, grunted, and cursed by turns. he soon became pacified, however, and tying up his head with his pocket-handkerchief, resumed his former gravity and noncommunicativeness. though i could not help but laugh whenever i saw his sullen visage and turbaned head by the light of his cigar, it was quite plain that the agent did not enjoy the joke. we glided on. after mr. bacon's cigar gave out, i endeavored to induce him to accept another. but no, he was as fixed as the rudder-post of a schooner. he would not run such another risk for all the cigars in florida. it was past midnight, and we had not yet reached ocheese. “keep her to the right bank, now," said mr. bacon, “we might pass the town in the dark.” accordingly i veered the course of the canoe until we could hear the water rippling among the driftwood on the right bank of the river. i became most intolerably sleepy, as well as mr. bacon, who now began to yawn and gape more and more. i endeavored to enter into conversation, but then i had all the talking to do myself. on no subject would be converse, and the only topic that could elicit an the burglars of iola. 233 observation from him was the hapless circumstance of losing his hat, which he said was entirely my fault. we floated onward without anything remarkable occurring until about two o'clock in the morning, when we arrived at ocheese, which place we would most probably have passed in the dark but for the barking of the dogs. as the bow of our canoe touched the shore, mr. bacon gave a long, deep-drawn groan, which probably he had been saving up for the last mile. we got on shore, dragged the bow of our canoe on to the beach, and after a little search, succeeded in finding lodgings. much to our gratification we learned that the steamboat would not leave until the following day. а chapter ii. on the following morning we took our passage in the steamboat for iola, in company with an officer of the ocheese district. we arrived at the indian town, which is beautifully situated on the bank of the river, early in the day, from whence we went in company with the sutler and interpreter to the house of the old chief, who resided about a mile from the shore. the old man was heartily glad to see us, and, although much indisposed from fever, commenced, as soon as we had seated ourselves on the slabs before his door, to narrate the circumstances of the robbery. 234 major jones. a few days previous to the night on which the robbery was committed, colonel john blount had received a large sum of money from the government, in compliance with the terms of the treaty which had been made with his tribe for their removal to texas. of this fact his white neighbors had gained intelligence by some means, and they determined to possess themselves of the treasure at all hazards. luckily for the life of the old chief, business had called him from home that night, for it was evidently the intention of the robbers to murder him. they broke down the door of his lodge with an axe, entered the house, and rushing to the bed, cut and stabbed it in every direction, until satisfied of the absence of their intended victim; then seizing the two trunks' which they were aware contained the treasure, as well as everything else of value which the old chief possessed, they departed. there were three robbers concerned in the transaction,-oaks, rawls, and strafford; the latter of whom was a thief of some considerable notoriety on the frontiers of georgia, previous to his removal to florida, where he was not less renowned for his many acts of daring villany. the wife of colonel blount, who happened to be the only person in the house, except two children, who slept under the bed, saved her life by springing from the bed before the robbers entered, and secreting herself between it and the wall, where she remained until they departed. she knew the individuals well, and could not be mistaken as to their the burglars of iola. 235 » identity, for it was not their first intrusion. after learning the details of the affair from the old chief himself, we examined the door and bed. the door had been split from its hinges, and the mosquito-bar bore evident marks of violence. “this is too bad !” remarked the officer to the sutler, a rather hard-favored man, who resided in the nation, and who had married an indian wife. “this is too bad! the perpetrators of this outrage should be brought to justice. but i fear our chance is but a poor one, for if we catch them, which is very doubtful, unless we find the property in their possession, there is no evidence to convict them." “they ought to be hung on suspicion, then,” said he, “ for a set of more audacious rascals never went at large." “you know them, then,” said i? "to be sure i do," replied the sutler; “ didn't i save one of the d-d rascal's lives night before last!” “night before last ?” inquired the officer; "then you have seen them since they committed the robbery?” “ob, yes, and it is only since they got wind of your coming that the other two devils have disappeared from the settlement." “what!" i replied, “have they the effrontery to show themselves in the nation even after the perpetration of such an outrage ?” “ yes; strafford was at my store the morning after the robbery was committed, and swore that he would take the 236 major jones. life of the first indian or any one else who dared to assert that he had a hand in it. but, i reckon he'll not bully about this tan-yard in a while again.” “then, you think he has filed for good, do you ?” said mr. bacon, and his countenance brightened up with hope. “i think he's bled for good. if he ain't out of trouble by this time, then i'm no surgeon.' “what do you mean, mr. sutler?” i inquired; “i don't comprehend you.” “well, i see you haven't heard all the particulars of the business, so i'll tell you all about it. you must know the . next morning after the robbery, strafford came down to the store and bullied about there all day. a great many indians were there also, and every one of them was satisfied that strafford had been concerned in the robbery of colonel blount, but none dared to say so in his hearing. strafford knew they suspected him, and was mighty quarrelsome all day. towards night he got into a quarrel with an indian nigger, and struck him. the nigger ran, and strafford after him, until the nigger drew his knife and cut strafford twice in his left arm; then strafford ran, and the bigger gave chase and cut him again in the back, rather severe for his comfort. strafford ran into my store, and was so badly. hurt that he begged me to give him a bed, and send for his wife. well, i couldn't turn the fellow out of doors, though he had threatened to cut my throat not an hour before, so i let him lay down in the back room, and sent for the burglars of iola. 237 his wife, as he requested. it was now pretty near dark. “for god's sake,” said strafford, “tie up these 'ere cuts, or i shall bleed to death.” i wouldn't be very sorry for that, thought i; but still i couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him, seeing he was so tamed, so i got some bandages and commenced binding up his wounds while the indians were yelling and talking very loud outside the house. while i was stooping over him, bang comes a pistol-shot through the chinks of the wall. “my god!” groaned strafford, “they've shot me. where's my wife ?” he wasn't mistaken about it. the ball struck him in the left shoulder, but unfortunately took but little effect. although i had hoped my trouble was at an end, i had to bind up his new wound, and while i was doing it he fell to begging me to keep the indians off, for he was hurt to death. i went to the door, as he requested, but i hadn't left him a second, before crack comes a rifle-shot through the window. i heard strafford groan. “oh, they've killed me,” said he, and i was really in hopes that he had told the truth for once in his life. i told the indians to go away, that they had killed him, and they went away satisfied. i then returned to strafford and found the devil still alive, though the last shot had been well aimed, and had struck him in the breast. shortly after his wife came in, and commenced dressing his last wound. she staid all night with him, and i sat up all night to keep her from stealing. in the morning his brother came down with some more of the gang, 238 major jones. > and carried him home, where he is at this time, if he is not dead, which is more than probable." “poor devil,” said mr. jones, the officer, “pity, but he has come to the end of his rope." “yes,” grunted mr. bacon, “it will save a deal of trouble and expense if he is dead.” i listened to the statement of the sutler with no common feelings. although i knew strafford to be a consummate villain, i could not but feel sorry for him, just because no one else pitied him. that he had committed the robbery i had not a doubt, but then to be hunted and shot like a dog, and to have even his surgeon hope for his death, i could not but pity his situation. " what are the latest accounts from the other thieves ?” i inquired. « on the return of the runners from tallahassee, they took the hint, and are among the missing,” said the sutler. “it is rumored that rawls has gone down the river on one of the steamboats, and that oaks is still skulking about the nation. immediately after the robbery intelligence was sent to the marshal of the district below, and he is expected up in to-day's boat. if he comes we shall probably hear from rawls." as the boat was hourly expected, it was proposed to go down to the store and await its arrival. we had not waited long before the boat arrived, and with it the marshal. as we anticipated, rawls had been arrested and sent to apalachicola. the burglars op iola. 239 the marsbal, whom i shall call mr. jordan, was a marshal to all intents and purposes, and was just the man we stood in need of. he was a short, thick, stout, hard-visaged, thorough-going sort of man, and one who feared nothing buman. he was a terror to all land pirates, few of whom ever escaped him, if once he got upon their track. mr. bacon was delighted at his arrival, and hailed him with a cordial shake of the hand. “ah,” said he, “ i'm right glad you've come, mr. jordan, we'll bave little more to do now." “oh, bo!” said mr. jordan, “you're here, are yon, old stick-in-the-mud! why, i didn't expect to see you here in a fortnight, at least.” “oh, you know it was my duty to come and do all i could to catch these 'ere robbers." “exactly; well, what have you done?” ; why we haven't done much yet; we only got here this 66 morning.” a “well, mr. sutler, what's the latest news respecting those housebreakers ?” so soon as the marshal learned strafford's condition, he said he would pay him a professional visit immediately. “s’pose we wait till morning, mr. jordan," said mr. bacon. “it's some ways to strafford's house." this delay would not suit the marshal. he was determined to see strafford immediately. the sutler furnished . three ponies, and in company with the marshal and my240 major jones. a self, rode out to see strafford. we found him at the house of his brother-in-law. he lay upon a miserable bed, and as much resembled a dead as a living man. mr. jordan went up to the bed and, touching him upon the shoulder, informed him that he was his prisoner. strafford was too far gone to notice us. a faint groan was his only reply. “i think you might let him die in peace,” said a miserable, half-clad, squalid-looking creature, who claimed to be his “sister dear,” and who now approached the bed, and attempted to cry. “don't be alarmed, good woman, i'll not hurt him," said mr. jordan. “oh, i know you,” she replied; "you've come here to carry my poor brother to jail, 'cause some of them infernal red-skins has been telling a pack o' lies on him, so they but he's as innocent as i is, so he is. but he'll soon be out of their reach, so he will." " don't get into a passion, gentle creature ; it don't be come you,” said mr. jordan, with a look that spoke how little he regarded her eloquence. “that's jist like you,” sobbed the woman; "a body " couldn't expect no better from the likes o' you. you ought to be ashamed of yourself, so you ought, to be mislisten a poor man on his dying bed." after examining strafford minutely, mr. jordan consented to allow him to remain where he was, on the assurance of his brother-in-law and sister, that they would surhas; a " tre burglars of iola. 241 render him up so soon as he was able to leave his bed, and we departed. “do you think he'll live, mr. jordan ?” inquired i, soon after we left the house. “ live ! to be sure he will; nothing but a hemp cravat will ever kill that devil. shooting is nothing for him; he's had as many ball-holes in his skin as he's got fingers and toes.” “those wounds are severe,” said the sutler, “but he's an alligator, every inch of him.” “he looked like a corpse,” said i, “and i noticed that, when he breathed, bloody froth came from that wound in his breast.” “i saw that too,” said mr. jordan, “but notwithstanding, i wouldn't be much surprised if he made his escape before this time to-morrow." “we'd better set old bacon to watch him,” remarked the sutler. “set him to watch !-set a toad to watch a hoe-cake," said mr. jordan. we arrived at the store about sundown, where the sutler's indian wife served us up a pretty good supper, after which we listened to a rehearsal of the robbery, and the transactions subsequent to it. mr. bacon had found lodgings with the interpreter, and mr. jones at the house of the old chief, and lucky was it for him that he had, for 16 242 major jones. he would have had business on his hands had he remained at the store. chapter iii. we were seated on the porch before the door of the store smoking our cigars, when an indian negro came to inform us that oaks, with his mother and strafford's sister, were quartered for the night at strafford's bouse, distant from the store about three miles. “are you certain it was oaks you saw ?” inquired mr. jordan of the negro. “yes, massa ; me see 'm mysef.” “let me have a horse, mr. sutler,” said mr. jordan; “if he is not caught to-night, he'll not be found to-morrow.” the sutler did not like to leave his store at night, and recommended that the marshal should call on those at colonel blount's to accompany him. but mr. jordan was not inclined to ride three or four miles out of his way to get assistance to take one man. “never mind,” said he, “if this boy will go along for company's sake, i'd rather old bacon should not be disturbed in his sleep, for all the service he'd be.” boy,” thought i; “but i'll go to convince him that the burglars of iola. 243 i'm not the boy he takes me for. let me bave a pony, too, mr. sutler,” said i, “and i'll go with mr. jordan, with pleasure.” “that's right,” said jordan. “but you must tote a pair of pistols, youngster, and if you have occasion to shoot, don't shut both eyes." i felt rather squeamish at this, for i was aware that we were to deal with a gang of desperate outlaws; but i cona trived not to betray my fears, and since i had volunteered to go, determined to go resolutely. a few moments were spent in preparation, and mr. jordan and myself took our departure fully armed and equipped. there was no moon, and by the time we reached strafford's house it was quite dark, so that our approach could not have been discovered until we were within hearing disthe house stood in a small inclosure and was built of hewed logs. we dismounted, tied our horses to the fence, and then approached the house. all was still-no light was to be seen, nor a sound to be heard. mr. jordan, after cautioning me not to speak, approached the door and knocked. thump, thump, thump, went his fist against the door, but no one answered. “holloa the house !-holloa !" called out mr. jordan at the top of his voice. still no reply. “holloa, i say, open the door," said mr. jordan; then listening a few seconds with his ear close to the door, he " 244 major jones. a turned to me and said he thought he heard footsteps on the floor. “go round to the other. side of the house," whispered mr. jordan, “and see if there is a door on that side. step lightly, and return and let me know.” after ascertaining that there were two doors to the house, i returned for further orders. “go back," said he, "and take your station near the door, and do as i direct you, but do not speak until i address myself to you." “do you think he's in there ?" i asked. . “i'm certain some one's there, and i'm inclined to think oaks is there, or they would open the door. there may be half a dozen, and i do not wish to let them know our force until i ascertain something farther about them.” accordingly i took my station at the door. “come, come, now, open the door and give me a bed by the fire,” resumed mr. jordan. “i'll pay well for my night's lodging." “who are you?” squalled a female voice, which, from its cracked tone, we took to be that of old hecate herself. “i'm a lone chap who has got lost in the woods.” well, you must keep on,” replied the voice," there's no one here but me and my daughter, and i'll warrant you i'm not gwain to let a strange man in the house." mr. jordan pleaded strongly for admission, but without effect. a > a the burglars of iola. 245 > a a “well,” said he, “if you won't let me in, you certainly can't object to my sleeping on your porch.” “yes, but i will, though,” replied the voice. “you'd better be off, now, i tell you, 'cause if my husband comes home and finds you here, it's a chance if you ever go away alive." " i'll risk that,” said the marshal; “i'll warrant your husband's a cleverer fellow than you are. so, since you won't act like a christian and open the door, i'll knock no more, but make the best i can of the soft side of a puncheon till morning.” the old woman raved at a tremendous rate; she swore if he did not go away, she would shoot, scald, burn, and play the mischief with him. the marshal endeavored to pacify her, then aggravated her, then laughed at her, and finally quarrelled with her because she would not let him sleep. the old woman became more and more uneasy; it was plain that she suspected us, and unfortunately for our scheme, i was, at just about this stage of the game, seized with an irresistible desire to sneeze, which in spite of all i could do betrayed my presence to the inmates of the house. the sneeze did not escape the notice of the old woman, and, though the marshal swore it was nothing but a cat, which like him, being shut out of doors, had taken cold, she was not to be deceived. “i know you, you sneakin', skulkin' scoundrels. there's a gang of you now prowlin' about a lone woman's house. > 246 major jones. but i've found you out. you've come here after my son, but thank god, he's out of your reach, so he is. you'd better go home.” ” “well, old woman, you're about half-right,” said mr. jordan, “so just unbar your door and let us be satisfied that he's not with you, and we'll go home.” , “now, i'll stick you up with opening the door, won't i! go home, i tell you! if you was any kin to decent white folks you'd be ashamed to disturb anybody so. but you may stand there and bawl till you're tired. i'll not let you under my roof, that's what i won't." the old woman now pretended to go to sleep. mr. jordan couldn't get a word from her. the novelty of the adventure kept me wide awake, but the marshal, who was something of a vocalist, either for his own amusement, or for the annoyance of the old woman, indulged in singing songs : > “there's meetin's of pleasure, and partin's of grief, but an inconstant lovyer is worse nor a thief: a thief he will rob you, and steal all you have, but an inconstant lovyer 'll take you to the grave.” “i know what you're hintin' up, you old screech-owl, you; but i reckon if the truth was known, you're as big a thief as anybody," interrupted the old woman. mr. jordau resumed : “o, let me in this aye night, o, let me in this aye night," etc. the burglars of iola. 247 the old woman acted 'possum for some time, but finally her temper got the better of her, and she broke forth : “you mean, stinkin', white ingin devils, you, go home!" “we won't go home till morning, we won't go home till morning, we won't go home, till morning, till daylight doth appear." this was not to be borne; the old woman broke forth in a torrent of abuse, by far excelling anything i ever heard before or since, to which mr. jordan replied by singing: “pray, goody, please to moderate the rancor of your tongue, why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes ? remember when the judgment's weak, the prejudice is strong, a stranger why will you despise ? ply me, try me, prove ere you deny me," etc., etc. finally, finding that the marshal paid no regard to her, the old woman became silent, and mr. jordan continued his medley until his attention was arrested by the noise of footsteps within the house. he listened for a few moments and all was still, but when he resumed his song the noise was heard again. he hummed a tune for awhile in an undertone, and after a short pause, called out to me: “look out there, gentlemen, on the other side. he's trying to crawl out at the chimney-top. the moment you see his head against the sky, pull trigger on it!” a 248 major jones. > a 66 the next moment i could distinctly hear some one clambering down the chimney. “ that's right,” said mr. jordan, “you'd stand a bad chance coming out at the chimney-top. a whiter man a than you would show against the sky.” “i reckon a body can make up a fire in their own house," said the old woman,“ without being shot for it." “go to bed, old meg,” said the marshal," it's not time to make a fire yet these two hours.” “i'll not ax you, you drotted thief !” replied the old dame. “you won't let a body sleep, so i'm gwain to sit up till morning.” i was now satisfied that the object of our pursuit was within, and of course “opened my eyes tight,” and listened attentively to every noise within the house. the old woman continued thumping about the house, apparently endeavoring to make all the noise she could, as if she wished to engross our entire attention. but mr. jordan was too wide awake for her. he heard in spite of all her clatter a slab of the floor raised. “ look out there, gentlemen, they're letting him out under the floor. keep a sharp lookout, and shoot him if he attempts to escape.” “never fear us," i replied. “we heard the plank move, and are on the lookout for him.' “ stand a one side," said mr. jordan, after a short pause, the burglars of iola. 249 a i think i see his stilts sticking through the floor, and i'd like to sprinkle them with a few buck-shot.” “my god !” squalled old meg, “don't shoot under there, you'll kill all my geese !" and the next moment a noise like that of a man springing on the floor was distinctly heard. “well, don't let your geese stick their legs through the floor," said mr. jordan, "for of a dark night like this, it is not easy to tell a goose from any other two-legged animal.” daylight was now fast approaching, and it was evident to all concerned, that the game was about to be blocked. the old woman raved for a while, but finding that all she could say could not dislodge the marshal from his post, she became quiet, and we could hear nothing but a low whispering and a slight rustling within the house. it was evident that some new scheme was about to be adopted, but what it was was not easy to divine. the east was already gray, and i felt that the important crisis was about approaching. my contemplations were of a serious character. it might be that there were more than one in the house, and when daylight should discover to them our meagre force, might they not overpower the marshal; and then the old woman might eat me alive, or her son might shoot me with my own pistols. i awaited the next move of the marshal with some little agitation, and was not sorry that the house was between, so that he could not detect me. а 250 major jones. but a few minutes more elapsed and it was quite light. the old woman now commenced to unbar the door. “i reckon,” said she, "you'll not shoot me if i go to get some wood for my fire.” “you can't go yet," said mr. jordan in a very stern tone. “you'll catch your death if you go out in the dew so early.” “and what's that to you, you oudacious varmit!" said old meg, as she was about to step out on the porch, at the same time pulling the door shut after her. “go in, you old hellian !" said the marshal in an angry tone. “did you ever see such insurance !" squalled old meg. she paused for a moment, then muttering curses between her toothless gums, she sprang for an axe which lay upon the porch. the marshal set one foot upon the handle of the axe, then drawing a pistol from bis belt pointed it with a grim look at her head, “do you see that, you old hag? go in and be quiet until i permit you to go after wood, or i'll spatter your brains against the door-sill.” there was something in the manner of the marshal that awed even old meg, and she went into the house muttering. next came the girl, who likewise wanted to go after wood. a look from the marshal, however, was a poser for her, and she shrank from the door. it was by this time quite daylight. mr. jordan beckoned > (252) “good morning, to your night-cap." the burglars of iola. 253 a me to come round, and we opened the door and walked in, pistols in hand, when, not at all to our surprise, we found the gentleman over whom we had kept such faithful watch the whole night seated on the side of a miserablelooking bed, dressed in woman's clothes. “good morning to your nightcap," said mr. jordan, approaching him and laying his hand upon his shoulder. “as i have a little business with you, i'll trouble you to accompany me to the store this morning.” then turning to old meg, who was calling us all the hard names in her vocabulary, and out of whose reach i took good care to keep, “ah ha! old meg, i've caught your goose at last; you couldn't get him out of the chimney-top, through the floor, nor in petticoats. well, i've always heard you were a tartar to come up to; but, meg, to say the truth, i don't think you're the woman you're cracked up to be." i need not say that old meg retorted in a style becoming a woman of her character. she cursed the marshal for everything she could think of. then turning to me she said i was a pretty little bantam, to be strutting about with pistols in my belt, and swore she could run a regiment of such things with her broomstick. the marshal laughed at her, and for my part, so she kept her hands off, i little regarded her raillery. the old woman wanted to put her son down the plank in the floor and to change his clothes, but the marshal would not wait; so tying his prisoner's hands behind his back, 254 major jones. we mounted our horses and set off for the store with mr. oaks between us in his mother's best frock and cap. on our arrival at the store, the indians pressed around to see the este hoketucky, and many were the jokes in which they indulged at the expense of our prisoner. chapter iv. shortly after our arrival at the store, we were joined by mr. bacon, and those who had found quarters for the night at the house of the old chief. as the morning advanced, several of the settlers in the vicinity of the indian town, who had been attracted by the governor's proclamation, also came to our assistance. mr. bacon was delighted with our success, and expressed his regret that we did not afford him an opportunity of participating in the adventure. . our prisoner was exceedingly chopfallen, and assuming an air of frankness, quite at variance with his calling, confessed his guilt. he persisted in representing himself as an injured innocent, or as he expressed it, a "deluded young man," who had been inveigled from the path of rectitude by the infamous strafford, who he averred had not only almost forced him to become his accomplice, but what was still more infamous in his eyes, had the burglars of iola.. 255 a cheated him in the division of the plunder. he gave us all the particulars of the robbery, and offered to surrender his share of the money and goods if we would send an escort with him to his home, which was distant from the store some six or eight miles. it was finally arranged that mr. bacon, with four of the young men who had volunteered their services, should go with oaks to his house and obtain the property, while a second party were to visit strafford to inquire after his health, leaving the marshal and me to snatch a little sleep on the sutler's cot. horses were soon in readiness, and mr. bacon, with his prisoner well pinione set off at the head of his escort, certainly manifesting more life and animation than he had since he left tallahassee. old meg, who had in the meantime made her appearance at the store, mounted on her pony, now joined the cavalcade, much to the annoyance of mr. bacon, who seemed very desirous of avoiding any collision with a woman of her well-known prowess. the marshal laughed as he saw the fat old gentleman cut his suspicious eye at the withered old hag. “see how mr. bacon rides round old meg,” said he, as they moved off. “i wouldn't be surprised if the old woman outgeneralled him yet.” we had perhaps slept a couple of hours, and i was dreaming of a grand combat with old meg in a black cave, in a gloomy forest! i had fired two pistols at her, still she did not fall! i attempted to escape, but the door was > a 256 major jones. . barred. with one skinny hand she grasped me by the hair, with the other she brandished a ponderous knife all covered with blood! her red eyes gleamed upon me, and her cracked voice screeched in my ear, “i've got ye now!" in another moment she would sever my head from my shoulders! i tried to call for help, but my breath was gone-i could not speak! what would have been the result of the horrible encounter i have yet to dream, for just at this painful crisis mr. jordan came to my assistance, and slapping me beartily upon the shoulder, exclaimed, “get up, my little bully! here's more work for us.” on recovering my bewildered senses i learned that the party who had been sent to ascertain if strafford was yet alive, had returned and reported “non est inventus," as the sheriff would say. on arriving at the house where we had left him the evening previous, they found the place entirely abandoned. not a soul remained, and they were obliged to return without being able to give us the slightest intelligence respecting the object of their search. from a man who had come to the store that morning on business, we learned that he had met strafford on his way, mounted on a horse, and armed with a gun and pistols, and that he told our informant in reply to his inquiries, that there was a party after him, to take him for a robbery which he never committed, and that he was determined not to be taken alive. 2 the burglars of iola. 257 . “he said he wouldn't be taken alive, eh ?” inquired the marshal. “yes," replied the stranger, “he said he had been cut and shot all to pieces by the indians, and that he'd be dd if he didn't shoot the first man that attempted to put hands on him.” “well, we'll give the fellow a chance to try his pluck. it's immaterial to me whether i take him to tallahassee as a live pork or a dead hog." mr. jordan then questioned the stranger, with a view of ascertaining where it was most likely strafford had gone. no intelligence, however, of a satisfactory nature could be drawn from him, and as no time was to be lost, the marshal, after formally summoning the new-comer to make one of the party, prepared to start in search of his absconded prisoner. with a view of instituting a thorough search for strafford, the marshal divided his force, which now consisted of some ten or twelve men, each armed with a gun and well mounted, into two parties; one of which, under the direction of the interpreter, proceeded to search the woods and swamps below the town, where it was known that strafford had some friends among the settlers, while the other, under the guidance of the marshal, set off in the direction of the place where he had been seen that morning by our informant. my eagerness for adventure would not permit me to remain behind, although the fatigues and exposure of the past night a 17 258 major jones. had rendered me much better qualified for the bed than the saddle. on our way to the lagoon, near which there were some old deserted cabins, in which it was supposed strafford would take refuge, we had to pass near to colonel blounts house. on arriving opposite the old chief's wigwam, the marshal desired the party to halt until he should procure three or four indians to accompany us, to serve in trailing out the object of our search. i rode with mr. jordan to the shanties, which stood but a few hundred yards from the road, where we soon obtained three indians, and returned. on reaching our party we missed the stranger, who we were informed had desired to ride on in advance until he reached his home for the purpose of bathing his eyes, which he said were sore, promising to be ready to accompany us to the lagoon place, on our overtaking him. the marshal shook his head. “my suspicions are confirmed,” said he, "and our chance of taking strafford is now but a sorry one." “why so ?” inquired one of the party. “why, the fellow whom you have let escape you, i am quite sure, is no better than strafford. he will gain sufficient time by his rise to inform strafford of our approach, who, if he once escapes into the lagoon, will be out of our reach, and we might as well waste our time looking for a needle in a haystack.” “ i think he's hardly as mean as that,” said one. “i had my suspicions before,” replied the marshal, > tar burglars of iola. 259 > "and now i am quite sure his business to the store this morning was only that of a spy. but there is no time to be lost; put whip to your horses and follow me, and he shall have but little time to put his designs into execution, if he is as treacherous as i suspect him to be." so saying, the marshal dashed off at full gallop, and we all followed, leaving the indians, who were on foot, to ply their shanks' horses as best they might. half an hour's ride brought us to the man's house, where we found him all alone, sitting in his porch. he stated that he felt too unwell to accompany us, but directed us to the old houses, which were only about a mile distant. mr. jordan spent no time in words, though his eye flashed as he regarded the individual, of whom his worst suspicions were now confirmed. “all haste, men!" said he, and off we started in the direction of the lagoon, with the indians, who had overtaken us, close at our heels. the dilapidated old buildings were soon in sight. a halt was ordered, and the men disposed in such manner as to cut off all retreat from the buildings. at an appointed signal we all approached, riding up from every direction to the spot, when we dismounted, fastened our horses and entered the ruins. but the bird had flown. abundant signs of recent occupancy were discernible, the character of which left no doubt on our minds that strafford had been there. in one building was a bed of moss, and strewed around upon the floor were several bloody bandages. 260 major jones. in another was a bag of corn, and the recent tracks of a horse, which might be traced to some distance in the direction of the lagoon. the indians were present, and evinced much of their native cunning and skill, in tracing out facts from signs and appearances, developing in one instance a method of chronological calculation, quite novel in its character, and certainly peculiar to themselves. upon the floor were several marks of tobacco-spittle; these attracted the attention of the indians, and after examining them minute ly, and observing the rays or sharp projections of ambia which usually shoot forth from the main body as it falls upon an even surface, and carefully noting the degree in which they were absorbed by the wood, they were enabled to compute the time to a fraction since the last spittle had fallen upon the floor. they asserted with great confidence that strafford had not been gone more than fifteen minutes before our arrival. the indians found no difficulty in tracing the tracks of the horse in one direction, and those of men in another, until the latter reached the lagoon. further it was impossible to follow, without the aid of a canoe, as the water, which inundated a cypress swamp of several miles in extent, was in places very deep. a canoe had doubtless been brought up from the river by some of strafford's in which he had effected his escape. with a rueful countenance the marshal abandoned the pursuit, and we directed our course towards the indian town. as we passed the house of the man who doubtless gang, the burglars of iola. 261 : a had thwarted our efforts to recover our prisoner, we found it vacant; the guilty scamp had secreted himself, doubtless fearing to meet the indignant marshal. and it was well for him that he was not found, for mr. jordan held that lynch law was an excellent remedy “in certain cases made and provided,” and was as ready to execute a writ from that as a higher court. it was late in the evening before we reached the store. mr. bacon came running out to meet us as we dismounted. “whar's strafford ?" he eagerly inquired. “gone to " replied mr. jordan, in a crabbed voice. “did you get the money ?” “em-eh-no," stammered mr. bacon. “the devil you didn't! where's oaks ?” “ why he's gone too." “gone !-gone where? you certainly didn't let him get away when you had his arms tied behind his back, did you ?” “why, that old woman—" “i thought so," interrupted mr. jordan,“the old woman was too much for you. just what i expected.” “but, mr. jordan, don't you know" “ yes, i do know you're not the man to be trusted with a prisoner and a woman like" “that 'ere old she-devil. you don't think, mr. jordan, that i could be” “bamboozled out of your prisoner," interrupted mr. jordan in return. 262 major jones. mr. bacon assumed a very indignant attitude, and running both hands into his pockets, fastened his oyster eye upon the marshal. “now, mr. jordan, you don't mean to insinewate anything injurious to my character, because” “well, how was it, then, mr. bacon,-how did it happen ?” “why, i'll tell you. arter we started from here this morning, we all rode along quiet enough until we got’most there. oaks said his arm hurt him, and wanted us to let him loose. well, he talked so good i thought we mought . as well do so, and we untied his hands. when we got near the house, the old woman rode on ahead a little, and got in the house before we got there. oaks was before the rest, and was walking up to the house just as i was getting off my horse. the boys were tying their horses, when what should we see, but the old woman jump out of the door with a double-barrelled gun and give it to her son, who , broke like a quarter-horse for the swamp, which was close by. as soon as she gave oaks the gun she run back into the house and hollered out, 'fire on the d-d rascals !' and i'll swar i saw three guns sticking through the chinks.” “ bah !” exclaimed the marshal. “the boys,"continued mr. bacon, not minding the interruption, "all took after oaks, as i thought, and just as i was puttin' my leg over my horse to follow, out comes the old woman with a big stick, and tuck me a pelt aside of the burglars of iola. 263 my head that knocked me clean over t'other side, and be fore i could get out of the tanglements, she give me two or three licks that liked to knock the breath out of me, and then run off.” “ you let her whip you, then, and you had a gun!” exclaimed the marshal, unable any longer to repress his laughter. “i had sot my gun down by a tree, and while i was catching my horse, the old critter must have stole it.” “and you lost your gun in the bargain !” “why, arter i got out of the old vixen's clutches, i looked about and the boys were all gone, so i didn't go back.” only one of the party who had accompanied mr. bacon was present, who' excused his own conduct on the ground that the balance of the party all ran for life as soon as they saw the old woman with the gun. he stated that he endeavored to rally them, but when they heard old bacon shouting murder, they hurried off, leaving him for dead. the marshal was exceedingly vexed at the fortunes of the day, but when he heard the poor old man's tale, and beheld his scratched countenance and torn coat, which was split up to the collar, he could not but laugh at all that had passed. another day was passed in useless search for strafford and oaks, and on the following morning i took my departure in the steamboat for aspalaga. on my arrival home i gave his excellency a detailed account of all that had i 264 major jones. transpired. after hearing me patiently to the end he exclaimed : “well, i must say you have made a pretty mess of it, indeed! pity but you had drowned old bacon when you had him in the canoe.” thus ended our crusade against the burglars of iola, neither of whom was ever taken, though one of them was afterwards shot, somewhere in georgia, while in the act of stealing a horse. a representation of the affair was made to the government, and i believe colonel blount was fully indemnified previous to his removal to texas, where he died a few years since. this book is a preservation photocopy. it is made in compliance with copyright law and produced on acid-free archival 60# book weight paper which meets the requirements of ansiniso z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper) preservation photocopying and binding by acme bookbinding charlestown, massachusetts 2001 3 2044 037 135 332 uqi‘i-¢ ‘.. d.,. 1: . -‘‘ : v.‘ i i'0..i\-q. ., l. ‘.‘. . ‘ \.... . i .,, ‘i _2,.\ 0 .‘'-i<‘w j>a. .-.‘a . . “qh..b ‘l .j‘g‘ rs. 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"‘\,*..\|;‘-|i“.‘-.\4i‘“i\‘||l‘| i“ .u|l‘i\|.4i..'--, 0/»2.=z_<§\av r , , . ’//sail/\| §e=<:@ % .2.@e§§. w/za.>em5 non f m ( el o ‘<\ \’\�‘unlvers//1 ‘/jfhdnv-s01 /oxavaan 1\*\ ‘é %2%_<§\,+ <‘1oj|tv3-jd vi . a ‘ b h ii \“ é.§z<.§»/w . . . , . . 4 . . \,.ge..€1/w /»2.__z_<§� . . a. . x . ~w%=z_<m_x\». r. f f ili1..,. . the white ghost book photographing a ghost form is clearly visible against the “ sitter’s ” clothing (see page 5) the white ghost book by ‘jessie adelaide middleton illustrated with four glzosl pholagrap/2: and of/zer plate: c-assell and company, ltd london, new york, toronto and melbourne first published 1916 bf m £ ! /“i325 contents 1*’ page photographing a ghost . . . . 1 ghosts seen by famous people . . 7 ghostly musxc . . . . . . 24 stories of haunted houses :the house of honnon . . . . 29 the marble mantelpiece . . . 92 the white lady or bolling hall . 94 the haunted h0use at hindhead . 98 the ghost with the ev1l face . . 102 a ghost seen in borrowdale, cumberland 105 the wesley ghost story . . . 108 two south african stories . . . 121k the ghost that grinned . . . 127 the severed head . . . . 129 a story or st. james’s square . . 135 nel1. gwy'nn’s ghost—and other mysterious visitors . . . . 137 the matrimonial ghost. . . . 140 ghostly footsteps . . . . . 142 ‘i vi contents page the ghost of egmont castle. . . 144 the rector’s gh0st . . . . 146 the gh0st in tav1stock place . . 147 three strange stomes . . . . 149 the old lady in black . . . 152 two yorkshire stories . . . . 154 ‘the haunted house in the subuebs . 158 the phantom house . . . . 161 a diary of hauntings . . . . 168 stories of haunted churches, etc. :— the haunted church at yonx . . 203 the gh0st 1n the church . . . 210 v01ces from the geaves . . . 211 the ghost at the wedding . . . 213 spirits of nuns . . . . . 215 three ghosts of the law courts and two of the sea :— the ghost of anne walker . . 225 the case of sergeant dav1es . . 228 a ghost called in court as w1tness . 281 the red mark . . . . . 288 legends of bosham harbour . . 236 $;.;4’‘g‘',..iu‘ aa~ -,,..,,‘i,0----....r..-n-.__r_f f a a contents vii page dreams, portents, and warnings:— dreams—steange, prophetic, and recurrent . . . . . . . 243 the horse or death . . . . 257 seen in the crystal . . . . 259 the three envelopes . . . . 264 the suicide ghost . . . . . 267 at a seance . . . . . . 270 in the night . . . . . 271 the unbidden guest . . . . 274 some strange experiences . . . 277 psychic influence on animals . . 282 the unhappy housemaid . . . 284 tom) by a canon . . . . . 285 |1|!\|0v |l||llil|l4|.|||1|<.|a| list of illustrations photographing a ghost . . . fronlispieoe a spirit form is clearly visible against the " sitter’s" clothing. facing page the terrible mom; . . . . . 32 reproduced from a ghost photograph, taken in an old west of england manor house. w110 is the ghost ? . . . . 80 the room in which darnley was born at temple newsam. the “ untouched” photograph shows a ghost in the chair by the fireplace. tee severed head . . . . 128 reproduced from a sketch of the ghostly head seen in .a certain london theatre. knighton gorges . . . . . 160 showing the old gateway and the site of the “phantom house” as viewed from the rookery. the mystery or the red barn . . 192 showing the exterior 0f the barn, and the hole from which the body of maria marten was recovered. a remarkable ghost photograph . . 208 taken at a farm-house near acton. the ghost of an old woman may be seen looking through the window. the assassination or spencer perceval . 256 as seen by mr. williams in a dream, and as he subsequently saw it depicted in an engraving-here reproduced. ix foreword he war has quickened the latent spiritual life of the nation and aroused new interest in the supernatural. many instances of apparitions, prophetic dreams, and other phenomena have been reported since the war began, and even those who do not actually profess to believe, admit that the subject is peculiarly fascinating. a few years ago it was considered old-fashioned and ridiculous to believe in ghosts; now it is oldfashioned not to believe in them. every day brings us fresh proof and well-founded instances. we hear of marvellous cases of second sight. we are told that on the field of battle the dead fight with the living, and that a place is kept for them in the ranks. people who used to laugh at the mention of anything occult now allow that “ there must be something in it, after all.” in publishing the third of my trilogy of ghost books, i have to thank the press and my readers for much past kindness. i have had letters from all parts of the world and from all kinds of people, some with welcome offers of the writers’ own experiences, others giving me additional facts about, or confirmation of, stories i have already written; others, again, asking me if i know that such and such a place is haunted, or that such and such a famous person xi xii foreword has seen a ghost. all this, coming from strangers, has helped and encouraged me greatly. the stories that follow are all well authenticated, if not all new. those that bear real names and addresses—and a number of them do—are of special value, but unfortunately the reluctance to give their , real names in print on the part of people i have l interviewed has compelled me to withhold names in l some cases. every writer of ghost stories is faced with the same difficulty. fortunately, in the present 1 collection i am allowed to mention real names in , connection with some of the most important stories. i write as a believer and a serious investigator, % and my chief object is to interest my readers. i lay no claim to deep, scientific knowledge. i simply q collect facts and evidence of all kinds. my thanks are due to the editor of the sporting and dramatic news for kind permission to republish mr. w. h. po1lock’s interesting story; and to mr. ralph shirley, editor of the occult review, for kind permission to include andrew merry’s story, and “ the phantom house,” which appeared serially in q i that journal ; also to those who have allowed me to give their names and addresses; to frank hamel, author of “ human animals ” ; to mrs. m. chester ffoulkes; and to many correspondents and interested readers who have kindly written me. jessie a. middleton lennon, 1916 o r i-1&1‘ the white ghost book photographing a ghost i am well aware that there is a great deal of fraud in so-called “ spirit photography,” and i have had in my hands photographs of so-called spirits —generally standing well behind the figures of those they are supposed to control—whose obvious artmuslin draperies (supposed to represent the orthodox costumes worn by departed spirits) would not deceive anyone but 'a person of weak mind or one highly susceptible to trickery. but instances of genuine ghostphotography are by no means rare, and i have seen several fine specimens. on one occasion, when on a. visit to temple newsam, the seat of lord halifax, mr. fletcher moss, of the old parsonage, didsbury, the well-known president of the lancashire and cheshire antiquarian society, had a most interesting experience. in one of the rooms at temple newsam, lord .darnley was born. the room is hung with portraits of his wife, mary queen of scots, and of their son, james i., and contains a wonderful bed and other beautiful old furniture. mr. fletcher moss and his companion, whom he b 2 the white ghost book calls “ x,” took several beautiful photographs of the interior of the house. “ we wondered,” he says, “ whether there were any ghosts behind the hangings, or the pictures, or the panelling, but they were not likely to show themselves in broad daylight. one of them seems to have been watching us, for when x printed the photograph of the room where darnley was born, he was delighted to find he had at last photographed a ghost without knowing it. “ there is the face of an old man sitting in the chair by the fire. who is it? darnley and his father, and his father’s father, his wife (the queen), and most of her kindred, all had violent deaths. who sits there watching us ? it’s a ghostly room.” the photograph in question was originally reproduced in mr. fletcher moss’s most interesting series, “ pilgrimages to old homes,” vol. v.; and, thanks to his—and lord halifax’s—courtesy, i am privileged again to reproduce it here (see p. 80). the original, untouched photograph shows very clearly the face of the ghost of an old man, in the armchair by the fireplace. the author of the book is a justice of the peace for lancaster, an alderman of the city of manchester, and president of the lancashire and cheshire antiquarian society, and is certainly the last man in the world to authorise the reproduction of a “ faked ” ghost photograph in his book. i have submitted this account to him, and he has kindly read it and allowed me to use the incident from his book. * * ll * ill photographing a ghost 3 another strange case of ghost-photography was reported in the sunday times, ll0yd’s weekly, and other papers in february, 1916, as follows: a strange story is told concerning the funeral of a grenadier guardsman, named jonathan owen, in the mining village of risca, monmouthshire. the soldier came home wounded from france, and died recently at harrogate. he was buried in the cemetery of his native village in the same grave as his little daughter, who had just predeceased him. after the funeral, the relatives thought they would like a photograph of the grave, which was abundantly embowered in foliage and flowers. then an amazing thing occurred. when the plate was developed the photograph revealed the faces of owen and his little girl looking out from the foliage. they are both, it is stated, plainly visible, and the resemblance is convincing. this mystifying incident has created great excitement throughout the district, and is being investigated by spiritualists and those interested in psychical research. i myself have investigated this matter, and have found the facts to be as stated above. in the following week’s issue of the sunday times appeared a letter giving a suggested explanation. . * * * * * again, when collecting material for one of my books i was offered a very weird photograph to illustrate 4 the white ghost book one of the stories which dealt with the ghost of a gigantic monk. the story gave details of how and when the photograph was taken, in the haunted room, and i had the picture in my possession for some time, intending to reproduce it in the book. my publisher decided, however, not to have illustrations, so i could not use it, but happily i am able to reproduce it here (see p. 32). it was taken in dramatic circumstances in an old manor house in the west of england.* it shows the ghost most clearly—tall and grim, with a most malignant face—and the panelling of the room is plainly visible through him. * il l ill ii ill on page 208 is a really extraordinary photograph which i am fortunately able to reproduce. the photographer—anamateur—~while taking some views of an old farm-house, not far from acton, “ snapped” the farmer, with his wife and family who posed to him for a group in front of the house. two snapshots were taken, at an interval of a few minutes, and when, later in the day, the photographer developed the films, he saw, to his astonishment, that, in one of them, a face appeared peeping out from a window of the house. he could not understand this, because he knew there was no one in the house at the time, and, further, that the room in question was entirely empty and locked up, quite unfurnished save for the curtains in the window. yet, on the film appeared the " i have told the story in full in “ the grey ghost book," p. 77. photographing a ghost 5 portrait of an elderly woman, in a white cap, looking out of the window on the left-hand side of the door. now, the room in question was unused on account of its having the reputation of being haunted. the portrait was that of the ghost. iii il l iii ill * the photograph which forms the frontispiece to this book was taken in the following circumstances :— on may 15th, 1905, a photographer living in a small market town took a photograph of a working-man, whom we will call warner. the plate used was the first out of a new packet, and there was nobody present except the photographer and his sitter. none of the people concerned were spiritualists, and nothing out of the common was seen or expected. four days later, on the 19th, the plate was developed, and then it was found that, on the left of the sitter’s handkerchief, there was a man’s face distinctly‘to be seen. his turn-down collar and tie came out very clearly; while, lower down, appeared his watch-chain; and, lower still—a little above the sitter’s kneehis hand, with white cuff, showed very plainly. the face was unmistakably that of warner-’s cousin, who at the time was lying in hospital, fifteen or twenty miles away, suffering from a gunshot wound, from the effects of which he died a few days later. the photograph of him was recognised by his mother and other witnesses who knew him. there was no flaw in the plate, and he had never at any time been photographed by the photographer who took the portrait. indeed, the latter had previously 6 the white ghost book ’ been unaequainted with warner, and never even knew of his cousin’s existence. the photographer has affirmed on oath that the negative had not been “ faked,” and the rev. w. romney, in whose church his brother was choirmaster, and who was well acquainted with the family, has absolute confidence in his honesty and veracity. i.q-_-qi;-»-i@-»-u-‘,»-h-‘.. .----_ .4-1-__._a____._z._i__ h 4 ghosts seen by famous people napoleon i.—-loan brougham—lady chatterton-— loan er.skine—sir albert fytch—the hon. g. f. berkeley in writing about well-known people who have seen ghosts, i am reminded of one of my relatives who wrote to ask me if i knew that the rev. charles kingsley believed in ghosts and actually had seen one, and did i know the story? i did, for charles kingsley told it himself in one of his letters: “ of button-cap—i knew him well. he used to walk across the room in flopping slippers, and turn over the leaves of books to find the missing deed, whereof he had defrauded the orphan and the widow. nobody ever saw him; but in spite of that he wore a flowered dressing-gown and a cap with a button on it. sometimes he turned cross and played poltergeist, as the germans say, rolling the barrels in the cellar with surprising noise, which was undignified, so he was always ashamed of himself, and put them all back in their places before morning. i believe he is gone now. . . . “ perhaps someone had been laying phosphoric paste about, and he ate thereof, and ran down to the pond, and drank till he burst. he was rats.” and so the story of old button-cap was exploded_ all the same, many well-known people have seen 7 8 the white ghost book ghosts, and have recorded their experiences. two lord chancellors-—-lord brougham and lord erskine —are among the number whose ghost-stories, told in their own words, are given here. lord castlereagh saw “ the radiant boy,” the famous ghost of corby castle. sir robert peel saw a ghost, so did lord byron, and so did mozart. general garfield, the poet shelley, goethe, napoleon, all saw apparitions. napoleon’s ghost story, told by general montholon —his companion in exile—is as follows : “ the emperor was pretty calm during the night, until about four in the morning, when he said to me with extraordinary emotion, ‘ i have just seen my good josephine, but she would not embrace me; she disappeared at the moment when i was about to take her in my arms. she was seated then. it seemed to me that i had seen her yesterday evening ; she had not changed ; still the same—full of devotion to me. she told me that we were about to see each other again, never more to part. she assured me that. did you see her ? ’ “ i took great care not to say anything which might increase the feverish excitement, too plainly evident to me. i gave him his potion and changed his linen, and he fell asleep. but on waking he again spoke of the empress josephine, and i should . only have uselessly irritated him by telling him it 97! was ‘ only a dream. how often the expression “it was only a dream ” is used to explain away any kind of vision or apparition! dreams can account for much, but i prefer the brougham ghost-story 9 to believe that the spirit of the empress josephine hovered round the dying emperor and appeared to him at the last. =l= * * * * in collecting material for my ghost books i am always specially glad to include these instances of ghosts seen by well-known and distinguished people, who have not been afraid boldly to confess their own experiences. i have related many cases of the kind, but have not so far included the brougham ghost-story, which, although much talked of years ago, may be new to many of my readers. . henry, lord brougham and vaux, became a member of the whig ministry under earl grey, on the fall of the wellington ministry in november, 1830, as lord chancellor of england. he took part with earl grey in carrying through the great reform bill of 1882, and was the founder of the edinburgh review. he was attorney-general for queen caroline, and defended her at her trial; was lord rector of glasgow university, and held many other distinguished positions. on his retirement from the woolsack he published many literary works, and, like disraeli, he brought his contemporaries, slightly veiled, into a novel. during his travels in norway he not only saw a ghost, but wrote down the facts‘in his journal afterwards, with a subsequent comment in 1862. in his travels he was accompanied by charles stuart, eldest son of sir charles stuart, who was the fourth son of john, third earl of bute. mr. stuart was not only his travelling companion but the most intimate friend 10 the white ghost book he ever had. lord brougham records his experience as follows: “ december 19. we set out from gottenburg at nine, determining to make for norway, in the almost certain expectation of finding a vessel there for some part in scotland. at kongelf we stopped to eat some of our cold provisions, and then continued our journey in the dark. “ at one in the morning, arriving at a decent hotel (in sweden), we decided to stop for the night, and found a couple of comfortable rooms. tired with the cold of yesterday, i was glad to take advantage of a hot bath before i turned in. and here a most remarkable thing happened to me—so remarkable that i must tell the story from the beginning. “ after i left the high school, i went with g-———, my most intimate friend, to attend the classes in the university. there was no divinity class, but we frequently in our walks discussed and speculated upon many grave subjects—among others, on the immortality of the soul and on a future state. this question, and the possibility—i will not say of ghosts walking, but of the dead appearing to the living, were subjects of much speculation; and we actually committed the folly of drawing up an agreement, written with our blood, to the effect that whichever of us died the first should appear to the other, and thus solve any doubts we had entertained of ‘the life after death.’ “ after we had finished our classes at the college g——— went to india, having got an appointment the brougham ghost-story 11 in the civil service. he seldom wrote to me, and after the lapse of a few years i had almost forgotten him. moreover, his family having little connection with edinburgh, i seldom saw or heard anything of them, or of him through them, so that all the old schoolboy intimacy had died out, and i had nearly forgotten his existence. “ i had taken, as i have said, a warm bath, and while lying in it and enjoying the comfort of the heat after the late freezing i had undergone, i turned my head round, looking towards the chair on which i had deposited my clothes, as i was about to get out of the bath. on the chair sat gi, looking calmly at me. “ how i got out of the bath i know not, but on recovering my senses i found myself sprawling on the floor. the apparition, or whatever it was that had taken the likeness of g—-——, had disappeared. this vision produced such a shock that i had no inclination to talk about it, even to stuart; -but the impression it made upon me was too vivid to be easily forgotten, and so strongly was i affected by it that i have here written down the whole history, with the date, 19th december, and all the particulars as they are now fresh before me. “ no doubt i had fallen asleep; and that the appearance presented so distinctly to my eyes was a dream, i cannot for a minute doubt. yet for years i had had no communication with g——, nor had there been anything to recall him to my recollection ; nothing had taken place during our swedish travels either associated with g or with india, or with anything relating to him, or to any member of his 12 the white ghost book family. i recollected quickly enough our old discussion, and the bargain we had made. “ i could not discharge from my mind the impression that g must have died, and that his appearance to me was to be received by me as proof of a future state; yet all the while i felt convinced that the whole was a dream, and so painfully vivid, and so unfading was the impression that i could not bring myself to talk of it, or to make the slightest allusion to it. “ i finished dressing, and as we had all agreed to make an early start i was ready by six o’clock, the hour of our early breakfast.” on october 16th, 1862, lord brougham added: “ i have just been copying out from my journal the account of this strange dream. certissima mortis imagol and now to finish the story, begun above sixty years since. “ soon after my return to edinburgh there arrived a letter from india, announcing g—---’s death, and, stating that he had died on december 19th. singular coincidence! yet when one reflects on the vast number of dreams which, night after night, pass through our brains, the number of coincidences between the vision and the event are perhaps fewer and less remarkable than a fair calculation of chances would warrant us to expect. nor is it surprising, considering the variety of our thoughts in sleep, and that they all bear some analogy to the affairs of life, that a dream should sometimes coincide with a contemporaneous or even a future event. this the brougham ghost-story 13 is not much more wonderful than that a person whom we had no reason to expect should appear to us at the very moment we had been thinking or speaking of him. so common is this that it has for ages grown into the proverb : ‘ speak of the devil . . .’ “ i believe every seeming miracle is, like every ghost story, capable of explanation.” lord brougham then goes on to tell the story of lord lyttelton’s ghost (it is related in full detail in my “ grey ghost book ”), which he says his father told, but coupled with his entire conviction that it was either a pure invention or the accidental coincidence of a dream with the event. the evidence in favour of lord lyttelton’s strange _experience being a genuine visitation from the spirit world is, however, far too strong for it to be explained away as a “ coincidence.” ill 11 * * =11 lady chatterton, who had the following remarkable experiences, was the daughter of the rev. lascelles iremonger, prebendary of winchester cathedral and vicar of goodnorth clutford, near andover, hants. at the end of her first season in london she married sir william chatterton. she had the privilege of meeting most of the interesting people of her time, and has left on record a charming account of them. one evening, when she was dining with lockhart and his daughter, the conversation turned on ghosts. it was a very pleasant dinner party, the guests being “ a set of wits and remarkable people,” 14 the white ghost book but after the company had left, her host persuaded her to stay on and relate her ghost story to him. lockhart told her he had the greatest wish to believe in the existence of ghosts, as showing the reality of a spiritual world, and he made her write down an account of her experiences. this she did, and her story is told in her “ memoirs,” edited by her second husband, edward heneage uering, published in 1878. here is the experience in lady chatterbon’s own words : “ i could scarcely have been four years old when we were staying at sherborne castle, an old place belonging to lord digley, in dorsetshire. it was built by sir walter raleigh, and is situated on a height overlooking a large piece of water, with the ruins of an older castle on the farther bank. “ the castle was so full on our arrival that my old scotch nurse and i were put into a large room, which i afterwards heard was said to be the haunted room. nobody would sleep in it, and strange noises were heard at night to come from it. my nurse did not know this at the time, nor did my mother. i “ my impression is that i was much pleased to find myself in this large room, for it was on the third storey, and the views from its windows over the beautiful terrace garden, which sloped down to the water and the ruined castle beyond, enchanted me. , “ i slept in a little cot which had been placed close to a large, old-fashioned bed of carved oak with red velvet curtains, where my nurse slept. in the middle of the night i was awoke by a brilliant '4__~ the ghost at sherborne castle 15 light that shone upon the wall. as i looked wonderingly at it, figures of men fighting seemed to pass over it, like the reflections produced by a magic lantern. groups of figures passed to and fro, shouting as they advanced and retreated. the colours were very vivid; i saw red coats and black, and flashing of firearms, and heard horrible noises. “ i was very much frightened, and looked round to my nurse for help. she was sitting up in bed, and to my still greater horror i saw she was not awake, but her eyes were fixed, though she seemed to be making signs to the figures, talking to them and motioning them to go away, while they were yelling and quarrelling. “ i could neither cry out nor move—i was so frightened; but continued to look at the strange appearance. suddenly it vanished, and all was dark and silent. a feeling of horror and dread, which i still feel when i happen to think of it, kept me awake until the day dawned through the window curtains, when i went to sleep. i never mentioned this horrible scene to my nurse, nor to anybody else, till many years afterwards, when i told her about it, and asked if she had any recollection of it. she answered that she had not. “ we often stayed at sherborne castle afterwards, but i never heard of anyone being put into that room to sleep. it was directly over the one my mother generally had, and one night she was roused by a violent knocking overhead. she described it as of dead bodies falling or being thrown about on the floor overhead. my father heard it too, and as there was 3, little turret staircase that wound up to the floor 16 the white ghost book above out of their room, he determined to go and see what it could be. “ he lighted a candle and ascended the narrow winding staircase. he found the door of this large mysterious room open, but no one was in it. he had the courage (as i afterwards thought) to pass through the room and went out at the other door, which opened on the great staircase, and came down again to my mother. the strange noises had ceased, and they never heard them again. “ i often went into that haunted room when i was staying there afterwards. i used to stand near the large, carved oak bedstead, just where my little , cot had been, and try to account for the strange effect i remembered so well. the vision or appear‘ ance had been on the wall opposite the windows, and i tried to fancy that the moonlight could have shone in and produced some kind of pattern on the wall. but the paper on it was a kind of dull green with a very slight pattern, and i remembered that the dark red damask curtains of the windows ‘ had been drawn, so that had the moon been shining . . no light could have come in, except through some small crevices, and this could not have formed the large vision all along the breadth of the wall, nor the lurid light that awoke me out of my sleep.” ii‘ * * * it on another occasion lady chatterton had a mysterious experience, this time at prebendary house, winchester. her mother had been rather ill, but was then convalescent; and she had left her in the drawing room in excellent spirits and lady chatterton’s vision 17 gone to bed. awaking in the night, she saw reflected on the white curtains of her bed the figure of her mother, dreadfully pale, lying on her bed with blood flowing from her lips. she touched the curtain, but still the vision remained, although the curtain moved to and fro as she touched it. throwing on a cloak she rushed to her mother’s room and found her just as she had seen her on the curtain, with the sheet covered with blood and two doctors in attendance. her mother was delighted to see her, although too ill to speak, and pressed her hand. one of the doctors said that all danger was now over, he hoped, and that her mother had not sent for her because, knowing that she had gone to bed early with a cold, she did not wish her to be disturbed. lady chatterton adds that although these were the only two occasions when she has seen any phenomena, she often had positive perceptions of the danger or death of dear friends. * * =l= * =l< lord erskine, youngest son of the tenth earl of buchan, began his career as a midshipman on board h.m.s. tartar, and next bought a commission in the second battalion of the 1st royal regiment of foot. he afterwards decided to go to the bar, and roseto be lord chancellor. the following ghost story is related in his own words: ,“ when i was a very young man, i had been for some time absent from scotland. on the morning of my arrival in edinburgh, as i was descending 0 18 the white ghost book the steps of a close, on coming out from a bookseller’s shop, i met an old family butler. “ he looked greatly changed--grey, wan, and shadowy as a ghost. ‘ eh, old boy,’ i said, ‘ what brings you here ‘£ ’ he replied: ‘ to meet your honour and solicit your interference with my lord to recover a sum due to me, which the steward at the last settlement did not pay.’ “ struck by his looks and manner, i bade him follow me to the bookseller’s, into whose shop i stepped back; but when i turned round to speak to him he had vanished. “ i remembered that his wife carried on some little trade in the old town. i remembered even the house or flat she occupied, which i had often visited in my own boyhood. having made it out, i found the old woman in widow’s mourning. her husband had been dead for some months, and had told her, on his deathbed, that my father’s steward had wronged her of some money, but that when master tom returned he would see her righted. “ this i promised to do, and shortly after i fulfilled my promise. the impression was indelible.” lord erskine’s story can be found in lady morgan’s “book of the boudoir.” in this entertaining book, lady morgan gives her first impressions of lord erskine, with whom she kept up a correspondence until his death. she had long wished to know him, and had made a hero of him; but when her dream was realised and she met the famous lord chancellor, she admits that she was disappointed to find “ that he spoke like a story from burma 19 other persons, was a thin, middle-aged gentleman, and wore a brown wig! ” however, in spite of this disenchantment, she fell under the spell of his personal magnetism. one day they met at an “ elegant salon ” of the day, much frequented by the most distinguished members of the upper and lower houses. lord erskine, the duchess of g—--, and lady morgan as guests were talking together, and the conversation turned on ghosts and second sight, in the latter of which both lord erskine and the duchess acknowledged their belief. lady morgan expressed her surprise at such “ superstition,” and was promptly snubbed by the duchess, who afterwards, to convert her, related a curious and romantic tale of second sight in her own family. not to be outdone, lord erskine thereupon related the above incident, which, as lady morgan adds, he evidently believed from the way in which he told it. * >z< 2* =|= lieut.-general sir albert fytch, c.s.i., chief commissioner of british burma and agent to the viceroy and governor-general of india, related the following ghost story in his “ burma, past and present,” which he dedicated to his cousin, lord tennyson: “ a remarkable incident occurred to me at maulmain, whihh made a deep impression upon my imagination. “ believers in the supernatural are laughed at in these days of material science; ghost stories are 20 the white ghost book specially derided. and yet, whilst i was residing at maulmain i saw a ghost with my own eyes in broad daylight, of which i could make an affidavit. “ i had an old schoolfellow, who was afterwards a college friend, with whom i had lived in the closest intimacy. years, however, passed away without our seeing each other. one morning i had just got out of bed and was dressing myself when suddenly my old friend entered the room. i greeted him warmly, told him to call for a cup of tea in the veranda, and promised to be with him immediately. “ i dressed myself in all haste and went out into the veranda, but found no one there. i could not believe my eyes. i called to the sentry who was posted in front of the house, but he had seen no strange gentleman that morning. the servants also declared that no such person had entered the g house. i was certain i had seen my friend. i was not thinking about him at the time; yet i was not taken by surprise, as steamers and other vessels were frequently arriving in maulmain. “ a fortnight afterwards news arrived that he had died, six hundred miles off, about the very time i saw him at maulmain. “ it is useless to comment upon this story. to this day i have never doubted that i really saw the ghost of my deceased friend.” * * * * * the hon. grantley f. berkeley, son of the fifth earl of berkeley, once saw a ghost, not at berkeley castle, as one might imagine, but at cranford house, ghost at cranford house 21 ._-i ,. -,7 -,a_—_==-==-on-_ . ... . .1“-,4q--. ' near hounslow, middlesex, one of the dower houses settled by his father on his mother. he tells the story in his “ life and recollections,” to the effect that before he left the guards he and his brother moreton, while down at cranford, were one night sitting up fully armed ready to go out for a brush with the poachers who had been very active lately in killing the keeper’s fowls in a neighbouring henroost. “ it was the rule of my mother’s house,” writes mr. berkeley, “ that all the servants should be in bed at ten o’clock, and on the night of the ghost we were not to go forth till midnight, when there would be enough of a moon to dispel the p/itchy darkness induced by a partial fog, that at first was an ample protection to the game. my brother and myself were together, and well armed, in no mood to be nervously excited, and little inclined to be afraid of anything. “ we passed by the still-room, intending, by crossing the kitchen and going through the scullery, to reach the courtyard by the back way. “ the large old house was as still as death when my hand turned the handle of the kitchen door, which, opening, partially admitted me to the room, at tine bottom of the long table which, starting from betwzen the entrance where i was and the door of exit to the scullery, ran up to my left in its full length to the great fireplace and tall and expansive kitchen screen. the screen stood to the right of the fireplace as i looked at it, so that a large body of glowing embers in. the grate threw a steady, distinct glare of red light throughout the entire length 22 the white ghost book of the apartment, making the smallest thing distinctly visible, and falling full on the tall figure of a woman, divided from me only by the breadth of the bottom of the table. “ she was dressed, or seemed to be dressed, as a maidservant, with a sort of poke bonnet on, and a dark shawl drawn or pinned tightly across her breast. on my entrance she slowly turned her head to look at me, and as she did so every feature ought to have stood forth in the light of the fire, but i at once saw that there was, beneath the bonnet, an indistinctness of outline not to be accounted for. “ holding the door open with my left hand, with the right against the post, i addressed to my brother, who was behind me, simply the word ‘ look.’ as i uttered this, the figure seemed to commence gliding, rather than proceeding by steps, slowly on up the kitchen towards the fireplace, while i lowered my right arm to let my brother in, then closed the door, locked it, and put the key into my pocket. “ in reply to me moreton said, ‘ i see her—there she goes.’ “ i had not told him what i had seen, and therefore could in no way have suggested the idea he seemed to entertain. “ after i had thus locked the door, on turning round there was no woman to be seen, so i asked my brother whither she had gone. he instantly replied, ‘ up the kitchen towards the screen.’ “ ‘ come on, then,’ i cried, ‘ let’s have some fun and catch her to see who it is.’ “ our impression was that it was one of the maidservants, sitting up long after the usual hours, and ghost at cranford house 23 we at once proceeded, each taking a separate corner of the screen, and meeting on the side next the fire -——but there was nothing there.” the two brothers then made a most minute search of the kitchen, even looking up the chimney and into every nook and cranny. the windows were tightly shut, and the only other door leading into the scullery was locked with the key in the kitchen side of it. “ here i offer to my readers,” mr. berkeley concludes, “ a fact impossible to be accounted for—an apparition visible to two persons who, when they saw it, thought that it was a living body, each supposed it to be a woman and, fearless of spiritual agency, pursued it, but in vain. “ the form certainly resembled no one we had ever known; it came to indicate no treasure, nor to point to any spot of perpetrated crime. it came we knew not why, and went we knew not whither.” ghostly music have often come across instances of ghostly music, both in fact and fiction. one of the best instances in fiction, i think, is the account given in “ john herring ” of the bundle of walking-sticks in the eerie old cornish house that used to play the quaint melody, “ since first i saw your face,” whenever any trouble threatened the dwellers in the house. no doubt the author of the book, the rev. s. baring-gould, being well versed in legend and folklore, had heard of some happening of the kind in cornwall and wove it into his delightful romance. but two instances of ghostly music have come to my personal knowledge and are related here for the first time. the first one was told me by a lady who vouches for its accuracy, and whom i know to be the last person in the world to “ draw the long bow ” or in any way misrepresent facts.‘ “ when i was about twenty,” she said, ‘ my mother and i were together at the old rectory (her home). it was a most curious house, with two halls, in one of which was an organ. all the rooms were low and narrow, and the second hall opened into the kitchen. my mother was nervous one night, and asked me to sleep with her. we went to bed rather late and were resting quietly, when about twelve o’clock we both heard faint strains of music coming up from below. g =4 ghostly music 25 “ ‘ isn’t that someone playing the organ ? ’ said my mother. ‘ who can it be ? ’ “ even as she spoke the music became louder and louder, and the full tones of the organ in the hall below swelled out until they filled the whole house. louder and louder grew the music, while we clung together with fright; then it grew softer, and died away with a sobbing echo. “ we got up and called the governess, who had been awakened by the music, and we all went downstairs and searched the house thoroughly, but all the doors were locked and the maids in bed and everything as quiet as the grave. “ the governess, who was deadly frightened, brought wraps and a pillow into our room and slept on a sofa at the foot of the bed. just as the dawn was breaking we all three heard the music again, and again searched the house but found no one. “ later on, a letter came to say that a near relative had died during the night, and i took it to be a sign, for we found that she had passed away just at midnight.” * if * iii =l< the other instance concerns a vicarage in hampshire, and i am fortunate enough to obtain a description of it from a lady who heard the music. i wrote to her husband for details, and she replied as follows : “ i am answering your letter for my husband, as he thinks perhaps i could explain what we know of the haunted room at the vicarage. it is only a few people who have ever seen anything there, and i happened to be lying awake in that room one night, 26 the white ghost book when suddenly i distinctly heard the door open gently, and it seemed as if a coffin was passing out and a procession of people. they were singing the hymn, ‘ hark, my soul, it is the lord.’ i could hear _ the footsteps, first low and then gradually dying away, and also the voices quite plainly. “ it seems strange that i did not actually see anything, but i was so frightened i could not move for a time. when i did i woke my husband and told him. he said he thought i must have been dreaming, but i know it was not a dream. “ i also know that a nurse who was nursing my husband’s grandmother at the vicarage was sleeping in the room, and she was a stranger and never knew anything about the room being supposed to be haunted; but she asked me if it was, as she had twice seen a coffin, and it looked as if there was someone in a shroud in it.” * * * * * another striking instance of the hearing of ghostly music is recorded on p. 77 in the course of the gruesome story entitled “the house of horror.” miss hargrove, again, as a result of her own investigations (see pp. 163, 164 and 167), found that mysterious music was an essential part of the manifestations at knighton gorges. stories of haunted houses the house of horror* [this story regarding an irish castle, which i have named kilman castle,1' calls for some special ea2planation—which, personally, i am unable to give. perhaps amongst the younger generation of scientists —who can tabulate and dissect anything, and by analysis ewplain anything—one will be found to undertake the task of reducing the apparitions at this house of horror to their original elements, but the task is beyond me. i can merely write down the /acts as they came to my knowledge. two of the people who have seen the elemental apparition here recorded, and the “ captain gordon ” in whose name this tale is told, passed out of this world 0/ speculation very soon after their vision of the uncanny spook. fully realising the howls of incredulous laughter with which critics will greet this confession, i here declare that on three separate occasions i have personally verified some of the ewperiences related, and that * for this weird ghost-story—a story which, for sheer horror, is hard to beat—i am indebted to the writer, andrew merry, from whom, by way of further testimony to the story's truth, i have just received a letter, in which occur these words: “ since it was written as much again of facts could be added to it, including the seeing of the grey elemental last november by five people, beside myself, at the same time.”—j. a. m. 1' the name, kilman castle, i may explain, is fictitious. so, also, are the other names given in this gruesome story. =9 30 the white ghost b051; twice i saw the elemental. since that vision two very serious accidents have taken me to the gates of the -newt world—indeed, almost through them.—andaew merry.] i this is a story of facts that have occurred and that are occurring. i admit at once that my tale will be deemed improbable—even impossible. still, a number of men and women, many of them living, have seen and heard the things i am about to relate. of course, you may assume that they were all the victims of hysterical delusions—that it is all a matter of auto-telepathic hypnotic suggestions, or any other sonorous collection of syllables you please to string together; but that these things were seen and heard by healthy, intelligent people, and are still seen and heard, is indisputable. for myself, i do not fancy i am a neurotic, or have a highly-strung, imaginative temperament. i am a captain in a native indian regiment, thirty-two years of age, sound in wind and limb, and generally “ grass ” what i aim at, so i imagine my eyesight is not faulty. i have done a good share of active service, and can honestly say i never felt nervous in my life before the month of november last year, when i was staying with my cousin at kilman castle, near the west coast of ireland. looking back on the whole matter now that some months have passed, i am still unable to find any possible explanation of this impossible story. i shall just relate it, therefore, exactly as it occurred, with all the details of my visit, so that the house of horror 31 anyone who in the future reads this record may be able to put himself in my place and visualise somewhat the surroundings and the people concerned. * * * =ll ii! when i arrived at the railway station of the small irish county town named ballykinkope, the daylight of the short november day was gradually sinking into twilight. a grey-headed porter opened the carriage door and collected my gun-case, rugs, and golf-clubs. “ another bag in the van? right, sorr. will yer ’anner be wanting a kyar ? ” he inquired. “ where will ye be going to ? ” “ to kilman castle,” i replied. “ then ’twill be you are captain gordon that the castle kyar is just afther comin’ for. this way, sorr.” he led me out of the wooden building doing duty as station offices to where a tall dog-cart was waiting, and soon my luggage was stowed away. a wizened little old groom seated himself beside me, driving the raking sixteen-hand horse at a good pace along the greasy road. “ that’s a nice traveller,” i remarked, nodding in the direction of the horse, and noting the long, easy stride. “ he is that, sorr. his sire was ‘ stupendous,’ lord brosna’s cilibrated american trotter,” answered the old man. then he added respectfully, touching his hat, “ ’twill be your first sight of the castle, i think, captain ? ” the man was right. as a matter of fact, i was 32 the white ghost book in ireland for the first time. since my cousin had married maurice o’connoll, the owner of kilman castle, i had not been in europe, but had spent my leave in various hunting and shootingexpeditions nearer to my regiment in india. when at last i had come back to london, i found, amongst the letters welcoming me, one from betty, telling me to start “ at once ” for kilman. she added: “i have got a dimpled irish girl for you with a delightful d0t—the last a rarity nowadays in this distressful country. so be ready for the worst.” i needed no inducements of “ dimples ” or “ dots ” ; the idea of the green isle alone was attraction enough. “ you’ve been with the o’connolls some time, i suppose?” i asked my ancient jehu; he had the air and manners of a confidential servant. “ wid the mashter, and the ould man before him, sorr. i drove the mashter to his christenin’, an’ i drove him an’ the mishtress home when he first brought her from england, an’, plase god, i’ll live to drive thim to their funeral yit, for there’s years of work in this arrum.” he spoke in perfect good faith, with tones of the utmost devotion to “ the mashter,” whose early demise he thus anticipated. “ shure, it was great divarshuns we had that time,” he continued, “ when the mashter married— bonfires an’ dancing, lashings of porther, and of potheen, all through the night. it took me an’ the steward all our time to git the gentlemen, who had taken a sup too much, safe out of the ring before the family was up the next morning.” 2 the terrible monk matic c'n'cumstanccs, 'm an old reproduced from a ghost photograph, taken under dra -<‘ ‘ r w..~1...: nvunnr house (see gage 3] ' _ the house of horror 33 “ kilman is a very old place, i think ? ” “ it is that same, sorr, an’ none older round these parts at all, at all. there’s been many a bloody battle fought near by, an’ for that matther there’s one livin’ now as was hid in the castle when the ribbon boys—god rest their sowls !—were about.” “ you’ve had wild times enough in ireland often,” i said encouragingly, hoping to get him to talk freely. he needed little inducing, and continued: “ that’s a fact, sorr. ’tis often i’ve heard of my gran’father’s gran’father, an’ his doings wid the wild captain o’connoll. i can just remind me of my gran’father’s telling us the tales—him an ould, ould man, no one knew what age—just as his gran’father tould them to himself. there’s one sthory—but belike i’m wearying you wid my talk, sorr.” i i reassured him, and he started again. “ well, sorr, they do say that the wild irish had besieged the castle, and were afther burning the o’moore’s house up beyant the knockganoc. the \vild. captain an’ his yeomen—he had a troop three hundred strong, which did more against the rapparrees than all the king’s soldiers put togetherwas shut up tight in the castle, wid three or four thousand of the mountain men camped round in the plain. the maw houghlal was commanding the rapparrees, a mighty robber chief he was, an’ him an’ the wild captain had many a grudge to sittle whin the saints brought thim together. well, whin the wild captain heard that the maw had burnt the o’moore’s house over his head, an’ killed th’ ould man, an’ more too, takin’ miss diana o’moore n 34 the white ghost book a prisoner, the captain wint mad wid rage; for by that token he was thinkin’ that the lily of avaghoe, as miss o’moore was named, would have made a wife for himself. ’twas said her father had a power of goulden guineas and precious stones, hid up in a big brass pot, for a marriage gift for her. “ so by this an’ that the captain fairly was rale wild, an’ he rushed to where his yeomen were feasting an’ cried aloud: “ ‘ who will risk his life wid me to save the lily of avaghoe ‘p ’ “ with a shout you could hear at croaghaun, every man answered him: “ ‘ ’tis meself will ! ’ “ the wild captain smiled, and they did be saying a dozen rapparrees had betther be savin’ their sowls whinever he smiled. ‘ “ ‘ come, thin,’ he says, an’ the gates were opened an’ they rode out an’ fought the irishers all the day, slaughtering frightful. “ but though they killed an’ killed, an’ though the wild captain’s grey horse come home crimson to the saddle-flaps, not one sight did they git of the lily of avaghoe, before the twilight come on. so they turned sorrowful into the castle. “ the wild captain ate no mate, but sat wid his head bint, no one daring to pass the time o’ day wid him. “ at last he wint for my gran’father’s gran’father. ‘ teighe,’ says he, ‘ will ye come to the gates of hell wid me ? ’ “ ‘ i will that same,’ says my gran’fathcr’s gran’father, ‘ and that skippin’.’ the house of horror 35 “ ‘ thin git the clothes off two of them carrio n an’ be quick.’ “ so the other he got two set of the mountain men’s clothes, an’ the two of them put them on an’ disguised themselves as strolling beggars, one wid pipes an’ the other wid a fiddle. thin they left the castle unbeknownst to anyone but a sintry. “ ‘ teighe,’ says the wild captain, ‘if the rapparrees dishcover us we’re dead men.’ “ ‘ they’ll kill us for sartain,’ agrees my gran’father’s gran’father, ‘ an’ more times than not roast us alive when we’re dead first.’ “ ‘ they’ll be apt to be thousands to one agin us.’ “ ‘ or more, captain, the lord be praised!’ “ ‘ teighe, ye can go back now and not one sowl think the worse of ye.’ _ “ ‘ shure ye know i’d die for you, captain dear, an’ if it’s hell you’re bound for, it’s meself will be thare first, wid the door open for yer honour. is it me ’ud renaigh ? ’ “ so no more passed between them until they reached the mountains. “ ‘ it’s irish we’ll spake,’ whispered the captain whin they saw the light of the ribil fires. thin they hailed the sintry in irish, telling him they had escaped the english, an’ soon both were warmin’ their hands to the fire an’ ateing from the big pot that hung over that same. “ after supper they played an’ sang ribil songs an’ ould haythenish irish tunes, an’ my gran’father’s gra.n’father said the wild captain made his fiddle spake; whilst himself, he put his sowl into the o 36 the white ghost book pipes, until the mountain men wint wild wid delight at the grand tunes of them. “ ‘ it’s to the maw they must play,’ the ribils cried, an’ soon the two was led further up into the mountains, where the maw and fourteen of his chieftains sat—an’ there, right in the middle of the ribil lot, wid her two pretty hands and her two little fate tied wid a coarse bit of rope, lay the lily of avaghoe safe enough. “then the two played and sung to the maw until he grew tired and felt like slapeing. “ ‘ ’tis well you’re here,’ says the maw. ‘ ye will play at my widding to-morra,’ and he grinned as he looked at the prisoner. “ ‘ we will that same, an’ dance too,’ cried the wild captain, smiling up in his face. “ ‘ ’twill be the english will dance,’ growled the maw, ‘ wid no ground under their feet. i’ll make hares of them the day.’ “ an’ wid this he tould thim how ’twas all planned to surprise the castle at the break o’ day, an’ how one of the most trusted of the yeomen had agreed to open a door where he would be sintry, in exchange for mr. o’moore’s pot of gould and treasure. “ ‘ ’tis a foine skame,’ said the wild captain, ‘ an’ worthy of the maw houghlal. but if it’s for the break o’ day, shure ’tis slape you’d best be gettin’, for it’s only three hours off the dawning now.’ “ so they all lay round the fire to slape ; the maw an’ the fourteen of his chiefs and the two beggars round the one fire, an’ the rest of the army a little distance off. the house of horror i 37 “the fires died down a bit, and barrin’ a sob or two from the lily of avaghoe, nothing stirred or spoke. “ thin my gran’father’s gran’father felt a long knife thrust in his hand, an’ the wild captain whispered to him: “ ‘ split their throats from ear to ear, that they may not cry out. cut deep.’ “ slowly the two of them crept around, pausing at each slapeing rapparree, an’ littin’ his ribil blood flow out on the grass. “ not one of the fifteen as much as turned over; the captain killed eight an’ the maw, an’ my gran’father’_s gran’father killed the rest. “ ‘be silent, diana, me darlint,’ whispered the wild captain to the lily of avaghoe. ‘ we’ve come to save you.’ wid that he cut the ropes that bound her, an’ telling her to follow him, he crept out of the firelight, she after him, an’ my gran’father’s gran’father lasht of all. “ the captain he knew every fut of them mountains, so did me gran’father’s gran’father, -and, skirtin’ round the rapparrees’ camp, they reached the castle in safety. you may be sure, sorr, it wasn’t long before the captain had his yeomen out, and they attacked the ribils still sleepin’ in their camp, an’ slaughtered a thousand or more before the sun was well up.” “ but what became of the treacherous sentry ? ” i asked. “ shure he danced—in the air—at the wild captain’s widding wid miss o’moore.” “ and what became of the pot of treasure ? ” 38 the white ghost book “ shure the captain he took that wid his lady, an’ they do sayi” “ well ? ” “ ah! it’s only the country talk, yer ’anner, but they do say the crock of gould is buried somewhere in or near the castle. ye see, it fell out this way: the wild captain and the english king didn’t agree about some little matther, an’ the english king sint the ridcoats to besiege the castle. now the castle has a long underground passage between it an’ a rath* on the hill near by. in this rath all the cattle an’ bastes were kept an’ driven down the passage whin they were wanted. well, the ridcoats dug an’ found the passage an’ stopped_ it up wid big rocks an’ sich like, so they in the castle had ne’er a bit or sup for three days. then the wild captain, in the night, he called two serving men and says he to them: “ ‘ help me to carry this old crock of butter.’ “ but what he called the crock of butter was the big brass pot full of gould and jewils. ’twas as much as the three could do to carry it. so whin they got to the shpot the wild captain had chosen they dug a hole an’ buried it. then they all three wint together to the top of the castle to look at the english below them. “ ‘ fergus,’ says the wild captain to wan of the serving-men, ‘ go down an’ bring me my sword from my room; ’tis meself will test it afore tomorrow’s battle.’ “ so fergus he wint. thin the wild captain a ' a prehistoric earthwork or hill fort in ireland. the house of horror 39 he says to the other, ‘ kiernan, do ye remimber where we hid the ould crock 0’ butter ? ’ “ ‘ i do, o’connoll,’ says kiernan; ‘ twas there an’ there we put the gould.’ “ ‘ may your soul rist wid it,’ says the wild captain, an’ wid that he knocked him over the edge of the battlemints an’ on to the skull on the top of the english ridcoats on the stones below. “ when fergus brought up the sword, the wild captain made pretence of trying the edge wid his finger. “ ‘ are ye sure ye sharpened it well ? ’ says he. “ ‘ i am,’ answers fergus. “ ‘ thin may it sind your sowl to paradise this minute.’ an’ wid that he chops off the head of him an’ throws him over the walls too. “ thin the wild captain, rather than die like a rat in a' hole, giv’ himself up, an’ they took him to dublin, and condemned him, along with sir william o’brien—a grand gintleman livin’ sivin miles beyant—to be hung, drawn, and quartered for treason.” “ what an ignominious ending for captain o’connoll,” i observed. “ oh, they did not hang him, sorr. the king was frighted when all was said an’ done, so both gintlemin were pardoned. but they had put such heavy irons on the captain’s legs that he never could walk again, and he died away, not clare in‘ his mind. when he lay dyin’ he towld the shtory of the gould to ease his sowl, but no one could ever find the place he meant, tho’ they dug an’ dug an’ dug up. 40 the white ghost book “ah, but it’s just a shtory. there, sorr, now we can see the castle,” pointing with his_ whip to a grey square tower showing over the tops of the leafless trees. kilman castle was a sombre, bare building, consisting of a square keep, tapering slightly to the top, looking, in its grim, grey strength, as if it could defy time itself. flanking it on each side were wings of more recent date, and beyond one wing was a curious rambling-looking house which my driver told me was called “ the priest’s house,” and which evidently had at one time been quite apart from the castle, though now part and parcel of the house, being connected by one of the wings. even the trees round seemed to grow in gaunt, weird shapes, probably because their tops caught the full blast of the wind. their branches creaked and groaned above our heads as we passed under their overhanging shadows. the gateway was castellated and overgrown with lichens and creepers, and the drive bordered with ancient walls, beyond which were the ruins of other walls or buildings, all overgrown and covered with moss and ferns. even the topmost branches of the big sycamores were decorated with these same ferns, which grew in endless profusion in every niche and corner. “ ’twill be a wild night,” my driver remarked, pointing to the murky red sky through the trees. as he spoke, a loud mournful cry sounded above us and was repeated three times. i started at the first cry, then laughed, for i quickly recognised the noise to be the wail of the hoot owl. often had i heard these birds in india the house of horror 41 and seen my native servants cower panic-stricken, for in some parts of the east the cry of an owl is regarded as a token of coming death to one of the hearers. “ that’s a loud-voiced customer,” i said. “ are there many of his feather round here ? ” “ no, captain; we never had but that one of scracheing kind. he was here all the summer, an’ now the winter do be comin’ on, he’s spoiling the trade of matt’s shebeen beyant at the crass-roads by the same token.” “ how on earth can an owl spoil the trade of a public-house ‘.7 ” “ ’tis the mountain min mostly, sorr, goes there, an’ ne’er a mother’s son of them will put fut outside their cabins afther dark since that gintlemin in the ivy has been hooting. they mountain fellars be rale skeared, for they do be believin’ in pish-rogues an’ sich like, an’ they do be sayin’ ’tis an evil spirit keening for a sowl ‘that will die near by. there have been a power o’ wakes lately—what wid the influenzy an’ the old folks bein’ pinched wid the could—in a good hour be it spoken. here we are, sorr.” a bright light shone through the opened door, and in the warm welcome that betty and her good man gave me i forgot the bleak night, the hooting owl, and the bloodthirsty traditions the voluble groom had been telling me. ii the interior of kilman castle is quite in keeping with its weather-worn outer walls. i may as well describe it now, though it was not until the next 42 the white ghost book morning that i went over the place with maurice o’connoll. the entrance-hall is very lofty, with a gallery running round three sides, and is paved with black and white stones. the walls are pierced—this was evidently done long after they were originally built —by archways leading into the two wings, and are twenty feet thick. they are honeycombed with narrow passages, and at two corners of the tower are circular stone staircases, fine bits of rough-hewn masonry, and both as perfect now as on the day they were built. it was curious to me to note how the inner axles of these winding ladder-like stairs had had the blackened stones polished smooth and bright rubbed by the hands of the many generations that had run up and down these primitive ways. o’connoll told me that tradition states that the castle was originally built by the irish for the danes, who seemed to have exacted forced labour from. the half-clad barbarians before ireland was fully christianised. the story whispered by the country folk declares that the mortar used in its construction was made in ta great measure with human blood and human hair, and that therefore it has withstood the ravages of time. somewhere about the year 800, the irish, under the leadership of a chieftain named o’connoll, rose against their oppressors, and took possession of the castle, where o’connoll established himself, and soon became a powerful prince. his descendants inhabited this castle— whether the original building or a more modern one, built of the materials and on the site of the old one, history does not reveal—and, until the advent of the the house of i-lorror 43 english in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, this stronghold was considered impregnable. amongst the first of the english adventurers was a young squire—son of an english knight—who hoped to win his spurs at the expense of the wild irish. the expedition he was attached to, attracted by the rumour of o’connoll’s riches, besieged the castle, and in a sortie, which the defenders made, the squire was taken prisoner. he was confined in a little room off one of the staircases, and as all the irish were very busy defending the castle, the only daughter of the house, one finnueguolla o’connoll, was deputed to push what food they allowed the prisoner through a little hole in the walls of his dungeon. ' the englishman made the best use of his opportunity, and by judiciously tender speeches he succeeded in winning the maiden so completely to his side that one day, with a view to abetting his escape, she procured the key of the prison and lethim out. as he was running down the twisting staircase he met young o’connoll, the girl’s only brother, coming up. he immediately raised a hue and cry. the escaping prisoner turned and fled upward, eventually coming out on to the battlements of the tower. seeing that flight any other way was impossible, and preferring the risk of sudden death to the more lingering one his _attempted escape would ensure him were he to be: recaptured, he gave a mighty jump over the parapet and managed to find refuge, and not death, in the branches of a yew tree growing near the walls, and in the end safely reached his countrymen. 44 the white ghost book eventually, his rather treacherous lover betrayed the castle to the english. its occupants were then all hanged in a field—called to this day “ the hangman’s field ”—and the english squire married finnueguolla, taking her name and the lands of herfather by right of marriage and conquest. their son, maurice o’connoll, was one of the first high sheriffs appointed in ireland, and his tomb, dated 1601, is still to be seen in the little churchyard near kilman. the tower had originally five floors or storeys; of these three exist—the first, a big bricked-up room, under the present hall; then the hall itself; and at the top of the tower a large chapel, with a fine east window and stone altar. besides the bricked-up room, there are under the hall dungeons hollowed out of the rock itself, with no windows or communication to the outer air, some of which o’connoll now used as wine cellars. in a corner of the chapel at the top of the tower is an oubliette, where disagreeable strangers were invited to walk down two steps on to a hinged platform that let them fall below the level of the deepest dungeon, where pointed stakes helped to‘ give them a quick journey to the next world. “ a couple of cartloads of old bones and bone dust were cleared out of that,” my host told me, “ and buried with due ceremony in the churchyard by some superstitious old ancestor of mine. amongst others who were said to have been thrown down there was a priest, the brother of a far-back o’connoll, who i offended the reigning head of the family by beginning mass here one day without him. the house of horror 45 “that particular prince was a beauty. one of his little games was getting a hundred and fifty mercenaries to help him fight the english, and when the enemy were beaten off, to avoid paying his hired friends he treated them all to a poisoned feast in the hall here, and killed the whole lot! “ see these skulls and bits of bones ? they came out of the wall when we made a new window. the idea is that when this place was besieged, the garrison had no way of burying their dead, so they cemented the bodies up in the walls. that’s one explanation ; the other is the twopenny coloured ‘ walled-up-alive ’ business. you can pay your money and take your choice. here, anyhow, are the skulls and bones that came out of the wall; i don’t trouble my head how they got in there.” this rambling description will, i hope, give some idea of the environment of this story, and form the outlines of a mental picture of the quaint old place, which has been inhabited without a break for at least a thousand years. as for the legends and stories belonging to it, their name is legion—all telling of love, murder, and rapine, as such medieval traditions are always wont to run. iii my first evening at kilman passed very quickly and pleasantly. betty and i yarned over old times until my host passed from the passive remonstrance of ill-concealed yawns to more active measures, by saying, rather sternly: “ betty, kenneth had no sleep last night, so we 46 the white ghost book must pack him off early to-night. it’s getting late —half-past eleven. there go the dogs!” as he spoke the baying of many dogs, “ of high and low degree,” broke into a noisy chorus, rising to a crescendo of angry fear, and then dying down into a pianissimo of canine woe. the big deerhound, oscar, who was lying on a sheepskin rug in the hall, added a long, deep note of misery to the general orchestra. “ do these dogs see the moon ? ” i asked. “ what a curious noise they make ! ” “ there isn’t a moon to-night,” o’connoll answered. “ but the dogs here always do that. it’s one of their little ways that won’t bear explaining. they mark half-past eleven without fail; we can set the clocks by them.” “ probably some shadow in the trees at that time,” i hazarded. “ so i thought, and we shifted them to the other side of the place, but it was just the same over there. no, don’t ask betty about it, or she’ll keep you up all night telling some cock-and-bull ghost story if you do. now, once more will you go to bed, betty ? think of that poor ‘ divil ’ of a maid waiting up for you all this time ! have a whisky and soda, gordon, before turning in ? ” whilst we were consuming the wine of the country i asked o’connoll if he knew of any ghost story connected with the castle. he looked at me curiously, and then laughed. “a ghost? we’ve only a couple of dozen or more, my dear fellow. but surely you are not the cut of spooky believer? don’t tell me you ‘ the house of horror 47 take a ‘ julia ’ or suchlike familiar about with you i ” it was my turn to laugh now. my host continued: “ i’ve been here all my life, often quite alone, and never have i seen what i can’t quite explain to myself by natural causes—electricity, you know, and all that. of course, there are noises enough, but what old house is free from them ? it’s only rats in a great measure. what i say is, that the only spirits about arise from the too liberal consumption of this spirit”—he tapped the tantalus stand. “ the servants get drinking. we’ve an old cook now who’d see you under the table, but her omelettes cover a multitude of sins—and then they kick up a row themselves, get frightened, swear they see ghosts, and clear off in a body next day. if anything makes me really mad, it’s the rot people talk about spirits and apparitions in this house.” “ what says betty to all these things? does she listen to such folly ? of all the women in the world, one would swear she would not.” my host pulled angrily at his pipe and enveloped himself in a cloud of smoke before he replied: “ she got some idiotic maggot in her brain last year, and has been as nervous as a cat ever since. it’s too bad of her ; i did think she had some common sense—that was why i married her.” this with sublime disregard of any sentimentality common to benedicts of some years’ standing. “ just now she has been worrying my life out, trying to get me to go away for this month; it is in november most of these mysterious follies are said to appear—because 48 the white ghost book the nights are dark, i expect! betty would die sooner than go upstairs alone at night. it’s too provoking of her ; i wish you’d chaff her into common sense again.” i did not believe for a minute that betty was really nervous. she was certainly playing some ‘deep-laid practical joke upon her husband. i mutely determined to be wary of turnip-headed bogies and booby traps, for in the past my cousin had occasionally indulged in such childish follies. we went up the broad oaken staircase in one of the wings, and then along the gallery overlooking the hall. a funny little doorway in the wall, about the height of my shoulders, raised my curiosity, maurice o’connoll, taking advantage of his six feet and odd inches, pulled it open to show me the winding narrow staircase it concealed. a rush of cold air nearly put our lights out, and he hastily pushed the door to, which seemed very heavy. “ it’s all iron-plated,” he explained. “in the rebellion of ’98 the family, and, in fact, all the protestants of the neighbourhood, took refuge in there. however, i won’t begin telling you the legends. my wife is the best to do that; if she does not know an appropriate story, she invents one on the spot.” with this parting libel on betty’s veracity, he showed me my quarters, and, after seeing i had everything i needed, he wished me good night and departed. my room was a long narrow one, with a fireplace across one corner. the floor was of polished poplar, with a couple of rugs on it. to my delight i saw that, instead of the ordinary heavy-curtained bedthe house of horror 49 stead one would picture as appropriate to the house, there was one of modern make, with a wire-wove mattress. i locked my door as a precautionary measure against bogies—or practical joking—and began leisurely to divest myself of my clothes, when i became conscious of someone breathing heavily in the room. “ hallo! ” i thought. “ here is a hospitable spook manifesting at once for the credit of the house.” then o’connoll’s remarks about the servant and whisky came back to me. horrors! if it should be the bibulous cook! the breathing was now snoring, and came unmistakably from under the bed. seizing the poker, i gave a vicious sweep with it, abjuring the snorer to “ come out at once.” there was a patter of feet, and out crept an obese and aged fox-terrier of the feminine persuasion, showing her few remaining front teeth in an apologetic grin, and agitating her minimum of tail with cringing affability. as the old lady seemed an amiable specimen of her race, and apparently had been recently washed with carbolic soap, i determined to allow her to be my guest for the night, even if she were self-invited. so i threw her my rug, which she proceeded to make into a bed for herself in a corner near the fireplace, scratching and turning round and round, and finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, curling into a ball, watching my toilet operations with brazen effrontery and ‘wagging her tail whenever she caught my eye. i placed a box of matches and a candle by my bedside, and it was not long before i was asleep, e 50 the white ghost book my last recollection being the sound of the dog’s stertorous breathing: then a blissful dreamless unconsciousness came over me. a cold nose against my cheek, and two longnailed fore-paws scratching vigorously to get into my bed, awakened me quite suddenly, and i found my friend the fox-terrier standing on my chest, trembling most violently and whining in a distressed fashion. “ you ungrateful little brute i ” i said angrily, giving her a far from gentle push on to the floor; but in a second she was up again, doing her best to get under the bedclothes. “ not if i know it,” and again i sent her flying. the room was quite dark, and as the fire had been pretty bright when i went to bed, i guessed i had been sleeping some time. thoroughly enraged, when the dog jumped up for the third time, i threw her roughly down, and this time i heard her patter under the bed and creep into the farthest corner, where she sat trembling so violently that she shook my bed. by this time i was thoroughly awake, and fearing i had hurt the dog, i put my hand out of bed, snapping my fingers to call her and make my amende. my hand was suddenly taken into the grasp of another hand, a soft, cool hand, at a temperature perceptibly below my own flesh. to say i was astonished would but mildly convey my feelings ! after aifew seconds of steady pressure the other hand let go, and almost simultaneously i heard ‘a heavy sliding fall, like the collapse of a large body at the foot of the bed. then in the absolute the house of horror 51 stillness of the room there sounded a deep human groan, and some half-articulated words, or, to be accurate, prayers. the voice—if it could be called a voice—died away into another groan; the dog under my bed gave a sharp, hoarse bark, and scratched and tore at the wainscoting. fully convinced that someone in trouble of some sort had got access to my room.— by what method i could not imagine—i struck a match and lit my candle, springing from the bed and crying out: “ who’s there? what is it ? ” my eyes blinked for a little at the sudden light, but when they were steady i looked to the spot where i had heard the groan. there was no one. the room was absolutely empty and exactly as i had left it on going to bed. nothing was out of order, nothing was-moved, and there was nothing i could see to account for the noises i had heard. to make certain, i tried the door. it was still locked. i made a tour of inspection round the walls, which were painted, not papered, examined all the furniture, and finally, kneeling at the foot of the bed, held my candle so as to be able to look underneath. in the corner crouched the fox-terrier, but there was nothing else. the polished boards reflected the light of my candle, and, perfectly mystified, i was getting up, when i noticed that the hand i had been resting on the floor was damp. i held it close to the light, and saw my fingertips and the ball of my thumb were rcddened, as if with blood, and turning back the rug i discovered 52 the white ghost book i a dark stain extending perhaps for two feet one way and three or four the other. ‘ instinctively i looked at the ceiling, but its whitewashed surface showed no corresponding mark. nothing had dropped from above. the stain was damp, not wet, and yet felt warm, as though the fluid, whatever it was, had been recently spilt. i examined my finger-tips again. the marks were very like blood. bah! i dabbled my hand in the water in my basin rather hurriedly, then i once more went carefully round my room. the shutters were barred, the door was locked, there was no cupboard in the wall, and the chimney was still hot from the fire. i tapped the walls carefully and could find no indication of any hollow place that might possibly be a secret door; but, as i did so, my common sense revolted at my own folly, they were so innocent of any panellings or dadoes that could conceal an exit. if a practical joke had been played upon me, where had the delinquent vanished to? ' one hypothesis alone was possible, and that i indignantly rejected, for i knew i was wide awake in my sober sense, and not the victim of delusion m or waking nightmare. for a minute i contemplated writing the whole thing down, there and then, but the absurdity of the idea flashed across my mind. i looked at my watch and found it was nearly three o’clock. it was better to warm my shivering limbs in bed than chill myself further by writing what no one would believe, for, after all, i had seen nothing, and who would credit groans and whispered words the house of horror 53 without one particle of corroborative evidence ? the fox-terrier’s “ mark ” to the important "document would not enhance its value in the eyes of the psychical research society. so i crept back to my nest, first enticing the dog from her corner, and in a half-acknowledged wish for company, even if it was only that of the little beast, i took her into bed with me. i left the candle burning for a-short time; then, as -there were no further noises, i put it out and prepared once more to woo the drowsy god, and, falling asleep, was not disturbed again. next morning, when i had finished dressing, i turned back the rug at the foot of the bed, curious to see what was there. sure enough, i found the dark stain, just as i had seen it in the night, with this difference—it was no longer wet, but appeared of long standing. _ iv we were to shoot some home coverts that day, and, besides ourselves, o’connoll expected six guns, a few neighbours, and a sprinkling of officers from the nearest garrison. betty, too, took me on one side and told me that her friend of the dimples and dot was coming, and that i was to be sure and not let “ dear” captain adair monopolise the young woman’s attention, but that i was to “ go in and win.” . miss dimples—as i will call the damsel whose charms betty had painted in such glowing colours —arrived, also “ dear ” captain adair,‘ a tall, dark ruffian, who had basely forestalled me by getting the 54 the white ghost book pretty little lady in question to drive him out. i found this warrior was a universal favourite, o’connoll declaring that he was “ one of the few decent soldiers ” he knew; whilst betty—well, betty was sickening! adair and i were told off to a warm corner, where, to my great joy, i wiped his eye over a woodcock. he grassed two longtails that i missed in an unaccountable manner, but everyone knows that one woodcock is of more value than many pheasants. we had a capital day’s sport, plenty of walking, and a most varied, if not a very big, bag, as there were birds of all feathers about. as for rabbits, the whole place walked with them; as one of the keepers said, they were indeed a “ fright.” betty and the dimpled damsel lunched with us, and followed the guns in the afternoon. miss dimples would have none of me, but tripped gaily after the all—conquering captain adair, so betty took pity on me. “did you sleep all right—really, kenneth, last night ? ” betty asked me anxiously, as we walked along together. “ don’t you think it likely ‘? ” i answered, looking hard at her. “ of course i did. all the same, if it is convenient, may i be moved into a room facing west? my present quarters face east, you know, and i never sleep really well that way.” “ then you did see something,” she said in a low voice. “ not a thing,” i answered cheerfully. “don’t try to humbug me, kenneth; i know you so well that it is impossible.” the house of horror 55 “ honest injun, betty, never one little ghostie on a postie did i behold.” i spoke laughingly; the night was far off still. “ but, to be strictly truthful, i did think i heard a groan or two, and though it probably was only my fancy, i would much rather not hear them again! by the way, is there any story connected with that room—anything to do with that stain on the floor ? ” i saw her colour under my watchful eyes. “ maurice said nothing to you about it, then ? ” i shook my head. “ well, people have complained before_in fact, we don’t generally put anyone there now. the room is called the muckle or murder hole room, and the story goes that the stain on the floor is the blood of a man stabbed there by his brother. two o’connolls quarrelled over the ownership of the castle, and fought, and the dying brother cursed the other, praying that no eldest son should inherit direct from his father. maurice succeeded his grandfather, you know; and even he had an elder brother. i believe the curse has always been fulfilled. the room had been disused for fifty years or more when we did it up. the stain has been planed off the boards several times, but it always comes up—creeps up from below in a few hours, no one knows how. maurice won’t believe any of these stories, having heard them all the days of his life. he declares that one person tells another, and then, nervous to begin with, of course they imagine a ghost. so, when you were coming, he insisted on your being put in there, for he said you could not be prejudiced by any nonsense, and 56 the white ghost book that we would be able to prove what folly it all was.” i do not know that i altogether appreciated o’connoll’s kind experiment at my expense. however, i told betty he was quite right, as no better man could be chosen to “lay ” the ghosts. “ i’ll have you moved to-night,” my cousin continued. “ don’t tell me what you saw ”—i made a movement of protest—“ or heard; for, kenneth -don’t laugh at me—though i hate myself for my folly, i am often more nervous than i can say.” “ you nervous, betty! i am ashamed of you! why, what has come to you '? ” she interrupted me quickly: “ i can’t explain it. the only description which at all comes near the feeling is somewhere in the bible, where it speaks of one’s heart becoming water. i never felt the least fear when i came here, though, of course, i heard all kinds of stories, and have had, all through, endless trouble with servants leaving at a moment’s notice, frightened into fits. when people staying here said they saw things, i only laughed, and declared it was mere nonsense, and though we’ve always heard quite unexplainable noises, such as the great chains of the front door being banged on the staircase and along the gallery, and endless footsteps, and sighing, and cries, and rustlings, and taps, they never frightened me. even when sudden lights and tongues of flame and letters of fire on the walls came many times—both of us saw them, for maurice did see them too, though he hates to own it—i was only curious and annoyed, because i could not explain it satisfactorily to myself. but, kenneth, a year ago the house of horror 57 ‘ last november i saw it, and i have never felt the same about these things since, or ever shall.” “ november is the height of the season in your spooks’ society ? ” i asked lightly, trying to cheer poor, serious betty. “ yes, nearly all the stories are about that month, though odd spirits appear all through the year. it’s in november that there is said to be the vision of a. dead troop of soldiers drilling in the ring.” “ what are your stock apparitions ? ” “ there are so many, i don’t remember them always, but i will try and recall what have been seen within the last six years. first, of course, there is a banshee. she sits on the terrace, and keens for coming deaths in the family. then there is earl desmond’s ghost, who howls in a chimney, where he was hiding and got smothered. a monk, with tonsure and cowl, walks in at one window and out at another, in the priest’s house; that is the wing beyond the blue room, where i sleep now. he has been seen by three people to my own knowledgenot servants, for, of course, their stories are endless, and require more than a grain of salt. then there is a little old man with green cut-away coat, kneebreeches, stockings, and bright shoe buckles, holding a leathern bag in his hand. quite a dozen people have seen him. sometimes he is all alone, sometimes a little old woman, to match him, is there, with skinny hands, long black mitts, old-fashioned dress, and a big head-dress, so they describe her. my mother saw them; and a third figure, an old man, dressed like a priest, with an intensely cunning face. she saw all three together several times.” 58 the white ghost book “ do these ghosts do any harm or talk to you. or anything like that y ” “ the green old man tries to stop people, but no one has been brave enough to interview him yet. then, inthe priest’s house, comes a burly man in rough clothes, like a peasant; he pushes a heavy barrel up the back stairs of the wing, near the servants’ bedrooms, and when just at the top the barrel rolls down—a fearful noise, bump, bump, bump— . and all disappear.” i fear i laughed heartily at this inconsequent ghost; but betty went on, unmoved: “ then there is a woman with very few clothes, and a red cloth over her face; she screams loudly twice, and disappears. that is on the same landing as the barrel man. these have been seen by numberless servants, and ” “my dearest betty, do you mean to say you believe those old wives’ tales?” “no, i don’t,” said betty candidly. “ i don’t mind about these one bit. i tell you of them only because i am trying to give a full catalogue of all who have been said to appear in my married life here.” “ go on, my dear.” “ then,” resumed betty, “ there is a tall dark woman in the historical scarlet silk dress that rustles. she haunts the blue room, which used always to be the nursery, and sobs at the foot of the children’s beds. my last nurse and two or three of the maids have seen her. her story is that she was a poor soul one of the o’connolls kidnapped, and she had an infant soon after she was brought into the castle, the house of horror 59 which o’connoll threatened to kill if she would not marry him, and when she had yielded to him he stabbed the child before her eyes, saying she could not look after him and the baby at the same time. they found her dead next day, having killed herself with the knife that slew her child.” “ what nice, cheerful little ways the o’connolls seem to have had ! ” “ they were simply robber chieftains, and robbed and murdered without compunction,” said betty. “ then there is a scene on the gallery, seen once in my day, and several times in past generations. some time in back ages there was a beautiful girl two of the o’connoll men were attached to. both often tried to abduct her—one at last was successful. the other brother, returning angry and disappointed to the castle, found the girl was already within its walls. a violent quarrel ensued between the two men, in the middle of which the girl escaped from the room in which all three were, and ran shrieking along the gallery. ‘ let him who catches her keep her,’ shouted one man, as they bothfstarted in pursuit. the original abductor caught her first, and with a cry of triumph lifted her in his arms. “ ‘ keep her, then! ’ cried the brother; but as he spoke he ran his sword twice through her back and killed her. the whole scene is re-enacted in the gallery.” betty related this pleasing legend with much spirit. “ oh, betty,” i cried, “ do say there is a blue light. that story is nothing without a blue light.” “ i don’t know if the light is blue,” she answered 60 the white ghost book simply._ “ but the keep is lighted up, when this apparition is seen, for a minute. when the girl is killed everything disappears. i have seen the keep lighted up myself--once.” “ how ? when ? and where ? ” “ driving home from a day’s hunting at the other end of the county—two girls who were staying here and myself. we were very late, and it was so dark i had to walk the horse up the avenue. when within sight of the castle i could see the yellow light of the lamps shining through the cracks of the shutters in the wing and from the hall. of course, as it always is, the rest of the tower was in darkness. quite suddenly there was a brilliant stream of white light from all the windows and arrowslits in the keep—from the big chapel windows and all. i had just time to exclaim, ‘ oh! look at the light 1 ’ when it went out just as suddenly as it started shining.” “ someone taking a_look round the place with a torch or something,” i hazarded. “ no one would venture up the winding stairs to the chapel at that hour, i can tell you! besides, i know no earthly light but electricity that could produce the strong glare i saw.” “ a sudden flash of lightning probably.” “oh, i never expect anyone to believe it. 1' saw it—that is all i know.” “ you tried to find out an explanation ? ” “ of course i did,” replied my cousin crossly. “ do you think i like having that kind of thing happen in a place i am to live in for the rest of my natural life, and my children after me ? there, the house of horror 61 kenneth, i did not mean to snap at you,” she added penitently. “ but when people talk as if they thought one went out of one’s way to invent the very things which make life a burden, i do get annoyed. i never tell people these stories now, because they simply don’t believe one; or, if they do, write one down a weak-minded, self-deceptive, backboneless idiot.” “ betty, you know that i—-—” “ you are ‘ kenneth ’ and not ‘ people.’ but to hark back to the ghostly inventory. there is something heavy that lies on people’s beds, and snores, and they feel the weight of a great body pressing against them, in a room in the priest’s house, but see nothing. no one to my knowledge has seen whatever does this, only heard and felt it. then there is something that very young children and cats and dogs see, but no one else. fortunately, as the children grow out of babyhood they seem to lose the power of seeing this thing. my babies saw it when they were too young to talk, and were sent precious nearly into convulsions. my cats go quite cracked, spit, claw, and run up the curtains; and the dogs—oh! it was only a day or two before you came that maurice and i were in the smokingroom with four or five dogs, when, without rhyme or reason, they all dashed into the hall, barking furiously. then, just as quickly they dashed back again, their coats bristling, their tails tucked between .their legs, the picture of fright—old oscar as bad as any of them. maurice ran out, but could see nothing uncanny, yet no amount of driving or coaxing would bring the dogs out again; they crawled 62 the white ghost book under chairs and sofas, shivering, and refused to budge.” “ could your husband make it out ? ” “ not a bit. that last often happens. those are all the ghosts i can remember in the houseexcept it. but outside they swarm. really i am not surprised, for the whole neighbourhood was a veritable armageddon. we cannot plough anywhere near without turning up skulls galore. “ why don’t you let the place to the psychical research people?” i suggested. “ with such a delightful assortment of ghosts ‘ on tap,’ they would be charmed to take it.” “ i only wish maurice would,” said betty, “ or get someone to come here and investigate. but, like all irishmen, he adores every stone and blade of grass that belongs to him, and he won’t hear of the place being uncanny in any way. once a friend wanted to send a parson with book, bell, and candle to ‘ lay ’ a ghost she saw, and maurice was furious ; and when i suggested inviting a man i know, who is very clever at probing into those kind of things, he would not hear of it. he gets so angry with the country folk when they refuse to come here after nightfall and say that the place is ‘dark,’ meaning bad. as for me, he thinks i am rapidly becoming fit for the nearest idiot asylum, because i am in such deadly terror of seeing it again.” “ would you mind telling me what you saw yourself, betty? o’connoll told me you had had, a frigh .” ' “ i’ll tell you if you like, kenneth; but of course "ou will find some plausible and utterly impossible the house of horror 63 ‘ natural’ explanation for it. maurice says vaguely ‘it was after dinner,’ which is extra rude, for i am, and always have been, strictly blue ribbon. still, here are the facts. remember, i do not expect you to credit one word. “ we had a party for shooting here last november, among others my sister grace and one of my brothers—dear old ted, you know. well, we had tramped with the men all day, so we were all tired and turned up to bed early. i went the round of the girls’ rooms, then got into my dressing-gown and had my hair brushed; after that i sent my maid off to bed. maurice and i were the only inhabitants of the red wing, next the room you slept in last night ; no one else that side of the tower. i heard a noise in the hall, so went out on to the landing and along the gallery and looked over. there i saw maurice putting out the lamps himself. he had a lighted candle in his hand, and was evidently just coming up to bed. \ “ ‘ maurice,’ i called to him, ‘ will you bring me the last contemporary review out of the drawingroom, please ? i want to read an article in it.’ “ ‘ all right,’ he called back ; ‘ i am just coming up to bed.’ “ he left one lamp burning and went through into the drawing-room whilst i, leaning my elbows on the corner of the gallery balustrade, waited for maurice to reappear. i recollect i was wondering what kind of sport i should have the next day, when i was going to hunt with mr. blakeney. “ suddenly two hands were laid on my shoulders. i turned round sharply, and saw, as clearly as i see 64 the white ghost book you now, a grey ‘ thing,’ standing a couple of feet from me, with its bent arms raised, as if it were cursing me. i cannot describe in words how utterly awful the ‘ thing ’ was, its very undefinableness rendering the horrible shadow more gruesome. human in shape, a little shorter than i am, i could just make out the shape of big, black holes, like great eyes and sharp features; but the whole figure—head, face, hands, and all—was grey; unclean, bluish-grey; something of the colour and appearance of common cotton wool. but, oh! so sinister, repulsive, and devilish! my friends who are clever about occult things say it is what they call an ‘ elemental.’ “ my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and i felt every hair on my head separate and move. then the spell was broken. “ i wheeled round—fortunately outwards—on to the open gallery, and with something—not myself-— in my throat that shrieked continuously, i tore along the passage, down the stairs, through the corridor into the priest’s house, where my sister was sleeping. once in her room i nearly fainted; but, pulling myself together, i managed to make my husband and brother—who, hearing the shrieks, had flown to the rescue—undcrstand that there was a ‘ thing ’ in the gallery, which had frightened me. they ran up together and searched carefully; but though they hunted up and down, they found nothing, my brother just saw it for one second, and you know he died. it is said to be a very bad sign of one’s luck to see it.” betty paused to wipe her eyes for a minute, then resumed: the house of horror 65 “ i soon got all right, though my teeth would not stop chattering for half an hour, and i told them quietly what i had seen. maurice was dreadfully frightened at the time; but now he declares i am hysterical, and that a cat jumped on my back.” betty had grown quite white as she related her adventure, but managed a smile as she said the word “ hysterical.” “ it must have been a trick, betty!” “ who could have played it on me, or who would be in that part of the house? i grant it is possible some unknown enemy conceived the excellent plan of trying to frighten my few remaining wits away, but it’s not very probable; and i who saw it-— oh! but what’s the good of talking? i should like to explain it to my own satisfaction, but i can’t. one thing i know, if ever i meet it again i shall go stark, staring mad or die the very minute. having no ambitions for bedlam, i take every precaution to prevent such a fate overtaking me. i have forsaken that wing of the house, leaving those rooms for strong-minded people like you. also i make my maid sit in my room now until maurice goes to his dressing-room. there, kenneth, i have told you, and doubtless you think me an infinite fool—but, oh, kenneth, if you had only seen it!” “be assured, betty, if i do, i will put a a50 revolver bullet into the cotton wool, and make the funny joker’s inside sorry for itself. that is all i can say.” and i meant it. our talk drifted into other channels, and by the time the gathering twilight sent us indoors to tea and hot cakes i was no longer thinking of the galaxy f 66 the white ghost book of ghosts that my cousin had trotted out for my benefit. betty and “ dear ” captain adair, who was staying the night at the castle, sat after tea on the fender stool in front of the cheerful turf fire, gossiping lazily, so miss dimples had perforce, in default of better game, to pay a little attention to me, and by the time the dressing-gong sounded we were discussing mutual affinities, having reached this interesting conversational point by the chromatic scale of dancing, hunting, shooting, plays, books, religious beliefs (miss dimples would have been an aggressive agnostic had she known how), first impressions, telepathy, and palmistry (miss dimples told my fortune, making an amusing record founded upon the romances of a well-known military novel writer), then to affinities; we agreed that the topic was not properly “ threshed out,” and should be “ continued in our next.” i had been shifted, i found, on going up to dress, into a room next the murder hole chamber, and thought my new, bright, big quarters a distinct improvement. the floor was carpeted and looked respectable and comfortable, and not suggestive of bloodstains and murders. i looked forward to a real sound sleep that night. we spent a merry evening. captain adair, who was staying the night, sang us comic songs until we ached with laughter, and miss dimples, smiling and fascinating, completed my subjection. alas! i am not the owner, or ever likely to be, of those dimples and that dot. after dinner we went out in a body to catch the the house of horror 67 half-past eleven ghost and to time the dogs. when we first neared the kennels there was a great deal of pleased sniffing and whining from the dogs, but, to the second correct, the wild howling began. none of us could see what started the chorus, so that mystery remained unsolved, though we each tried our best to find plausible theories. after many songs, and when the ladies had gone to bed, came whisky—-—shouting choruses is apt to make one thirsty. then we turned iupstairs to our respective rooms, my little friend, the fox-terrier, whose name i found to be “ nell,” accompanying me again. tired out after a strenuous day, i was soon asleep, and knew nothing from the time my head was on the pillow until the servant brought my bath-water next morning. v miss dimples wasa laggard at breakfast. betty was just going in search of her when the door opened, and she came in. her pretty rosy cheeks had lost their colour, and she looked quite pale and tired, as if she had not slept. “ what have you been doing ? ” o’connoll asked, with much severity. “ reading a trashy modern novel in bed—eh, young lady ? or, like that sensible wife of mine, interviewing a ghost ? ” no one could accuse miss dimples of being pale now; she flushed painfully, a vivid scarlet. betty looked at her with troubled eyes, and o’connoll, seeing the effect of his jesting words, frowned wrathfully. i threw myself into the breach, 68 the white ghost book talking fast and intentionally in a loud voice to my host as to the day’s prospects. when o’connoll, taking adair with him, had departed after breakfast to consult with his steward —a ubiquitous treasure, whose duties ranged between buying the babies’ boots and arranging the various sh0ots—miss dimples, with many more blushes, broke the sad fact to her hostess that she was recalled home. i was sorry for the poor child, for she was in an agony between inventing a specious lie and not seeming in unseemly haste to quit her friend’s roof. “ i am so sorry to go, dear madam o’connoll,” she said, with tell-tale flaming cheeks, “ but i got a letter from mother this morning saying she is not very well, and that she wants me to come home.” betty did not believe this story—nor did i; and as a very strong motive was evidently behind the girl’s many excuses, i resolved to try and extract the truth. it was arranged that miss dimples should depart after lunch, and betty, jingling a huge bunch of keys in a workmanlike fashion, started “housekeeping,” telling her friend to amuse me for half an hour. “ you’ve been telling terrible tarradiddles, miss dimples,” i said reprovingly when we were alone, shaking a reproachful finger at the fair sinner. “ you never had any letter this morning, but a very obvious bill forwarded on to you. i particularly noticed the blue envelope lying in solitary grandeur on your plate.” i “ if you did notice, you shouldn’t have, and you are horribly rude to tell me to my face i tell stories. the house of horror 69 those are indian manners, i presume; now, dear captain adair ” miss dimples pouted in a provokingly charming manner at me. “ we are not talking of captain adair, da i should say, bless him ! ” i interrupted austerely. “ but are discussing the infamous conduct of a little lady who, having told several very inartistic fibs within the last five minutes—by the clock—now refuses to confess and receive absolution.” “certainly i refuse, with such a father confessor i ” “ you will not find a more sympathetic one in all ireland, including its garrison towns ! ” an alarming glare from two heavily curtained eyes made me hasten to add: “ see—i am quite in the right attitude.” i sank on my knees, with my hands clasped. “ now, fair ladye, in your mercy tell your devoted knight what wicked monster disturbed your rest, that i may rend it limb from limb ! ” “ i wish you could,” she answered with a frightened glance round. then in more natural tones: “ d0 get up—don’t be so silly! what would the o’connoll think if he came in ? don’t be so silly! ” “ people might imagine i was laying my heart at your feet. shall i ? ” “ my shooting-boots might hurt the valuable article.” she placed en évidence an absurd travesty of a “broad-soled” boot. i could have held the two on one hand. “ there--the lace is untied! as you are in a convenient position, will you tie it for me, please, captain gordon ? ” 76 the white ghost book “ if i tie it so that it won’t come undone again all day, will you tell me ? ” the “ shooting-boot” was in my possession, so i was not adverse to parleying with the enemy. “ will i tell you what ? ” “ all about everything ! ” “ what do you mean ? you make me shudder with your sweeping questions. good gracious, no ! ” “ then i shall unlace your boot.” i began to carry out my threat. “ you are horrid! do it up again at once, and when it’s quite done, i might begin to think of telling you something.” philandering over a minute shooting-boot is very pleasant, but it was not business in this case, so with a smothered sigh i repaired the damage and released the hostage, which disappeared to join its fellow under the leather-bound checkerboard skirt miss dimples wore as appropriate to sport. “ now sit down—no, not here—over in that chair. well, first you must swear by—by your spurs, not to tell the o’connoll.” “ i swear it.” “ or ever in a horrid club smoking-room.” “ i never enter such places; my mamma does not like me to.” “ or ever to tell madam o’connoll.” “ may not betty know ? ” “ certainly not. it’s bad enough my having to be as rude as i am in flying off like this, without my adding insult to injury by telling some stupid story about the house.” “ so be it; i won’t tell betty, then--just yet.” the house of horror 71 “ i went up to bed, you know; you gave me my candlestick. by the way, i believe you made my fingers black and blue.” she critically examined her plump little digits. miss dimples runs to entrancing hollows, even in her hands. “ no, stay where you are—you need not look at them, thank you. only be more careful next time you hand a person a candlestick. well, we talked a little, and brushed our hair, and drank some tea ” “ do women drink tea at that hour ? what horrible depravity ! ” “ you men drink whisky, which is worse. now, if you interrupt me ever again i shall stop altogether —so there! well, i went to bed, as i said before; my room is called the clock room, and it is in the priest’s house. i locked my door quite securely, but i could not sleep for ages—not a wink, though i was dreadfully tired from that awful tramp, and my poor feet”—here the “number two” shootingboots peeped out pathetically to emphasise her remarks—“ simply ached. i heard all you men go to bed—a nice row you made! then i heard the servants go past, making those elaborate efforts to walk softly which result in twice the noise of ordinary footsteps. then i tried counting, but that woke me up all the more. at last i composed two new frocks, and the mental effort did make me drowsy, so i tried to recollect dr. monaghan’s sermon—i was in ballykinkope last sunday—and that put me off in a few seconds.” “ but, miss dimples, with your anti-religious convictions, do you go to church?” “ of course i do. one must give whatever pro72 the white ghost book testant tenants one has a good example! besides, at home i play the organ, and it’s such fun composing the voluntaries. you can’t think what a beauty ‘ the absent-minded beggar ’ makes.” she laughed merrily. . “ now don’t interrupt me any more, or i truly will stop. just as i was dozing off, great heavy footsteps coming up the stairs woke me up again, heavy steps like a big labourer with clodhopping boots would make. i listened, thinking i was safe, as my door was locked, and wondering who it could be. the footsteps came along the corridor and stopped at my door for a second, and then came on right into my room, as if no door was there at all! i can swear the door never opened, but the footsteps came right on through! it sounds very mad, i know, but it’s truly true, captain gordon. the footsteps went about the room for several minutes, and i nearly died of fright. i kept my eyes tight closed, afraid i might see something and expire; or, worse still, my hair turn white in a single night! however, at last i could not bear the horrible idea of this thing walking about unhindered, and i got strength to open first one eye a teeny, weeny bit, and then both. it was quite light in the room, the turf of my fire having fallen in and burnt brightly. “well, i looked about, but could see nothing, yet all the time the heavy footsteps went on across the room, to the wardrobe and back to the fireplace —the very boards creaking under the weight of-— nothing i could see! at last, to my horror, the footsteps came over to the foot of my bed, and the the house of horror 73 ghost—yes, it must have been a ghost, i am positively certain—sat down plump on the edge of the bed, almost on to my toes. it is a great, big, heavy ghost too, for it made all the springs rattle. fortunately, the bed in that .room is very br0ad—one of those great, spreading, hospitable beds, you know; and i was lying away from the ghost, with only my feet over to its side; so gradually drawing my toes up—heaven knows how i had courage—i crept softly out on the other side, and along the floor on my hands and knees, into the corner behind my bath. the big felt mat the maid spreads for me to stand on was folded up there, and i wrapped myself up in it. there i sat all night, shivering with cold and fright, whilst that horrible great, big pig of a ghost lay on my bed and snored and snorted most comfortably. you may laugh, captain gordon; i only hope it will go to you to-night. i did not feel in the least like laughing, i can assure you. when the morning came and it grew light enough to see, i looked over to the bed, fully expecting to see some hideous monster lying there; yet there wasn’t a thing. my door was locked just as i had locked it; but on the second pillow—the one i had not used at all—was the impression of a heavy head, and all along the eider-down quilt there was the mark where the huge, long ghost had lain. i would not sleep another hour in this house—no, not for a million pounds! “ it’s not at all kind of you to jeer at me, captain gordon, for i am quite in earnest; and really and truly, i was utterly unnerved and never so ffightened before in all my life.” 74 the white ghost book i did my best to comfort the poor little girl, who, evidently enough, had imagined an exceedingly alarming experience, which, whether bred in her own nerves or caused by some spiteful sprite, had succeeded in making her pass a very miserable night. she was quite shaken, and had only just escaped a bad cold as the result of her night out of bed, and was not at all fit for the fourteen irish miles she must drive before she got to her own home; but in vain did i urge her to delay her going until the next day. she was stubbornness itself, and as the very suggestion of spending another night in kilman seemed to give her pain, i refrained from further pressing, and led our conversation into lighter, less nightmarish channels. o’connoll and adair joined us after a bit, and then betty, with a cloth cap over her eyes and a light 20-bore in her hands. “ i’m one of the guns to-day,” she announced airily. “ no, you don’t, betty,” replied her husband. “ i’m not going to have murder committed on my land, if i can help it. put that pop—gun away, if you are coming with us. if you must shoot to-day, you may go by yourself—not with the rest of us, if i know it.” “ oh, maurice ! ” “ it’s no good, my dear. didn’t you take the toe off my boot a few weeks ago, shooting rabbits out of the oats ? ” “ the shot did not go within a yard of your boots, you teasing storyteller.” “ quite near enough to ruin my nerve for the the house of horror 75 rest of the day, anyhow. here, put up that gun, like a good girl, and help beat to-day. betty always thinks if she taps an occasional tree she is doinfk' wonders. you’d shoot a beater for a moral certainty, and times are too bad now for me to be able to afford you ‘ big game.’ ” “ i’ve been out dozens of times,” his wife replied, with an injured air, “ and wiped your eye before now.” “ i dare say,” said her husband dryly. “ i’ve had many marvellous escapes, i will own. but since the corn-cutting—no, thank you. ‘ once bitten, twice shy.’ ” “ very well,” said betty, resigning her gun. “ i will beat to-day; but to-morrow, kenneth, you and i will go out together, and you will see what sport we will have.” “ if women must shoot,” remarked o’connoll dictatorially, “ and nowadays they are not happy unless they do everything we do, and lots of things we would be ashamed to do—then let them make up their own parties and shoot each other. there are plenty of superfluous women about.” miss dimples rose immediately to his insulting bait. “ you men are just jealous,” she declared. “ you know, o’connoll, your wife is a capital shot! of course, we women do everything better than you men; and in shooting we score because we have not sat up half the night making our hands shaky with whisky.” “ what about tea ? ” i began, but a fiery glance quelled me. 76 the white ghost book “ i’ve known some pretty shots amongst ladies,” said the diplomatic captain adair. “ my sister is a first-class shot,” betty remarked ; “ much better than i am. how we laughed at her this summer, though! we used to go out with a little repeating rifle, stalking rabbits, and at first she would start out with a silk-lined skirt and froufrouey petticoats, that the rabbits could hear rustling a mile off. but plenty of women shoot now—and well too. there’s lady garry owen, who is a. champion at woodcock; and lady east riding knocks all down before her. and do you remember the american widow at the chenistown shoot last year, maurice ? she showed you men the way.” “ with a huge cigar for ever in her mouth, and the tightest of tight rationals on. i should just like to see you doing it, betty.” o’connoll laughed at the recollection of the transatlantic dame. “ well, come along; here are the others—-—we must hurry up.” the morning’s sport was as varied and excellent as the shooting of the day before. the pheasants were nearly all wild birds, and were mighty strong on the wing. besides pheasants, we massacred a few snipe and many woodcock ; also the usual plethora of bunnies. hares we saw, but o’connoll preserves them strictly for mr. blakeney’s sporting pack of harriers which hunt in the neighbourhood. betty promised me a day with them. after lunch came a tender parting with miss dimples. she was kind enough to express a hope we might meet again, and murmured comforting assurances that she would keep me some dances at a ball, coming off within the next ten days. the house of horror 77 i never knew if miss dimples did keep those dances for me! anyhow, i fear that lucky beggar, adair, got the benefit of them, for events crowded, and sent me back across the silver streak long before the ball came off. vi adair left kilman after dinner that night. he came into my room, when i was changing my shooting things, and began to chat. “ what a rummy old place this is!” he volunteered. “ you never were here before, were you ? there are no end of stories going round about ghosts, you know. not that i believe in such yarns—do you t ” “ you never found a moderately old place people did not say was haunted ; and as kilman is immoderately old, of course they are bound to call it so,” i answered sententiously. “ yes; but sometimes you do hear most unexplainable rows here. why, only last night, i’d have sworn someone was singing in a big cupboard there is in the room i was given.” “ practical joking, i should say.” “ i don’t know how it was done, all the same, as i searched the beastly place out several times; but no sooner did i get to bed again than the infernal music began once more.” “ it’s to be hoped your visitor had a pleasing voice,” i laughed, at his injured tone. “ the song, if i could call it a song, was wordless—all a jumble of vowels, sung on a succession of minor notes, always ending in a particularly 78 the white ghost book piercing tone that gave me a pain behind my eyes, and made me want to sit up and howl like a dog. i feel sure those poor brutes last night heard the same thing when they yelped. oh! of course, it’s all rot. i dare say i dreamt it; but i thought i,’d ask you if you had dreamt it too. one doesn’t like to ask o’connoll about the matter, for, though he is the best of good chaps, yet he’s a bit touchy on that point. i remember once he was very near knocking my head off because i hinted at something being wrong in another room i was then in.” i assured adair i had not had “ the mysterious minstrels ” in my room, and asked for particulars of his other experiences. “ mind you,” he began, “ i don’t believe in ghosts, not for a second; yet it is funny, i must own. what happened before ? oh ! nothing much ; only every time i got into bed i was rolled out again. mind you, i saw nothing, though i looked pretty smartly, i can tell you—with a candle in one hand and revolver in the other; only, as i told you, no sooner did i lie down again than the mattress humped itself up and threw me.” “ a bucking mattress is a new and added terror to the history of ghostology.” “ i pulled the bally old bed to bits, and at last yanked it all out on to the floor, where i slept in a heap. the man who called me thought me quite mad or very drunk. however, i told him i could not sleep any other way, and cleared that day. o’connoll would not believe a word of the matter —of course, he did not tell me in so many words— but he laughed and patted me on the back, and the house of horror 79 advised me to have four, instead of three, fingers of whisky next time, and then i would sleep better. madam o’connoll laughed too, but promised she would never put me in that room again—and never has. all the talk of spirits is folly; but this is a very rummy place, there’s no doubt about that ! ” with this he left me, and when he had gone i regretted that i had not asked him if, by any chance, it was in the room i was now in he had been so rudely disturbed; but my mattress, as i punched it, seemed incapable of any such buffalo bill tricks. when adair had departed after dinner we talked shooting.‘ i told shikari tales and romanced over the tigers i had nobbled, giving the full account, from start to finish, of the exciting sport i had had with the late owners of two fine pelts i was giving to my cousin. half-past eleven came and went, heralded as before by the dogs; but in going over the stories of past hunts and big shoots we took no heed of time. it was past twelve when betty left us, and nearly one 0’clock before we thought of turning in. o’connoll rang up a servant and asked him if the house was shut up and the household gone to bed. “ they have,” said the man. “ then you can go too; i will put out the hall lamp,” answered his master. “ now, gordon, we’ll have one more drink, and then make for bed.” we walked into the hall, and o’connoll showed me the old-fashioned locks and heavy chains that barred the doors, i mentally wondering how these chains riould be taken from their staples and dragged 86 the white ghost book and rattled upstairs in the way betty had described. then he put out the lamps, and with “ nell,” the fox-terrier, at my heels, and a favourite cat of his following him, we walked upstairs. he saw me into my room, gave my fire a poke and made it up, then, wishing me good night, walked across the gallery to his dressing-room, and i heard him open and shut the door. left for the night, my first action, as it always is, was to lock my door. then i put a candle and matches near my bed, and prepared to make my little friend “ nell” a comfortable corner. the dog and i had grown allies. betty said she was quite jealous, for “ nell” was a faithful old lady, who did not generally admit new loves into her doggie heart. . “ it’s one of betty’s tests with new people,” o’connoll told me. “ if ‘ nell’ does not growl at them, they are all right; if she does, nothing will persuade betty that they are not burglars in disguise, and she will have nothing to say to them.” i threw my rug down again to-night for “ nell,” who sat in front of the genial blaze and turned her damp nose up to me in the trustful way that dogs have. wheeling a low, roomy arm-chair into a good position for the light of the lamp to fall on my paper, i got my writing-book, and with my legs each side of the fireplace, began to write some ‘letters which it was absolutely necessary should leave by the next day’s mail. up to the present i had really no time for writing, but now it was business, and had to be done. f/eher jloss by kz'nd permz'ssz'oni of lord hz'zh.-ax azd illr. who is the ghost? born at temple l\’e\'s'1m. “ untouched ” the the room in which darnlev w the house of horror 8r my first letter was to a firm of naturalists, who were setting up some markhor heads and bighorns for me, telling them to send two good specimens and a couple of tiger skins on to kilman; next i wrote to my gunmakers about an express rifle i was in treaty for. pausing only to light my pipe-——i can never get my ideas to run straight without the aid of my old briar—i began a long and rather intricate letter to my lawyer about a monetary matter that had been giving me a great deal of bother lately. stooping to replenish the fire—the one drawback to these delightful turf fires is the constant need there is of putting on fresh sods—i looked down to see where the dog was, for i missed her from my feet. “ nell” had disappeared. ‘ i whistled softly and snapped my fingers. a faint tip, tip, tip, tip of a wagging tail told me her whereabouts. the fox-terrier had hidden under an old secretaire in the corner, and had no intention of coming out. i called her repeatedly, with no result. “don’t be such a little fool,” i said crossly, kneeling down and pulling her out by the scruff of her neck. “ you are not going to begin fresh pranks, i trust.” “nell’s” big brown humid eyes looked wistfully into mine, but the moment i relaxed my hold she attempted to creep back under the secretaire again. however, i prevented her, and carried her to the bed i had made for her by the fire. then i was just settling down to my writing again, when a scratching at the door caught my attention. g 4 82 the white ghost book i looked up to listen ; the terrier gave a veritable scream of terror. the dog was sitting bolt upright on the rug, every hair of her coat bristling roughly, her lips drawn up, showing her brown old teeth, her ears laid flat back to her skull, her eyes fixed on the door, trembling with the same painful rigors of the night she had first been my companion. . the noise at the door continued. at first i fancied some cat or dog was trying to get in, but then i noticed that the scratching kept up a kind of time—one, two; one, two, three; one, two; one, two, three. i set my teeth. the unknown exponent of the art of practical joking at kilman had chosen the wrong time for a display of his pranks. he was safer when he kept to the darkness of midnight. suddenly awakened out of sound sleep in a black egyptian gloom, a man is not so formidable a foe as when, with a lamp lighted, candles burning and fire blazing, he catches up a revolver that has often proved its accuracy, and goes forth to inflict condign punishment on the villain or fool attempting to frighten him. i was enraged at the dastardly way poor betty had been tricked, and resolved that if “ he ” or “it ” who were guilty of these disturbances would only show, they would regret the hour that they tempted their fate. my revolver was soon taken from the holster case in which i carry it about. i assured myself that . it was loaded, then, walking across the room, i unlocked the door and flung it wide open. there was no one outside, " the house of horror 83 the landing and corridor were empty, and beyond, through the half-open door that divided the wing from the tower, i could only see the blackness of the unlit gallery. when i listened, my straining ears seemed to catch the sound of a soft thud, then a rustle, then another soft thud going along the gallery; but as i could not see, i turned quickly into my room, and, catching up the candle from the table at the side of the bed, walked out on to the landing and through the door into the gallery, holding the candle overhead and striving to pierce the dark depths below and around me. all was still now; only my own breathing broke the silence. i sniffed the air. faugh! a subtle, unknown, and horribly vile smell filled my nostrils and sent me back quite sickened to my room. there was no more to be done, so i shut and locked my door "and turned with a sigh to my bothering letter. “ nell” welcomed my reappearance with rapture and every demonstration of delight. she jumped on to my knees and tried to cover my face with her frenzied kisses. i felt that she was still trembling violently, so i soothed and petted her for a few minutes before putting her back into her bed. i had scarcely taken up my pen again when a noise came from the far end of the gallery—thuds and brushing. whatever caused the noise advanced right up to my door, and fell or threw itself once or twice heavily against the framework. then the scraping began again. one, two; slow and along scratches right down the panel. one, two, three; shortly and quickly succeeding each other. then a 84 the white ghost book rustling or brushing noise against the door, followed by another thud and more scratching. i sprang up, sending my papers flying in all directions, rushing to the door, unlocking it and tearing it open. the same sickening smell struck my nostrils; the mat that lay across the threshold was half turned back; but beyond this there was no more to be seen this time than before. but most unmistakably i heard the rustling, brushing, soft dumping noise at the end of the gallery. should i walk across and rouse o’connoll? this would entail waking betty, and her being left alone whilst i carried off her husband to help in the hunt for this mysterious night-bird which was disturbing me. i was the only occupant, i knew, of the red wing, the o’connolls alone in the blue wing, and in the priest’s house were the babies and servants. should i cross the gallery, i debated, go through the blue corridor, down the stairs and into the priest’s house, in search of the butler? i had no kind of idea which was his room, and my endeavours to discover him might land me in nurseries with terrified, shrieking babies and irate nurses, or in the women servants’ quarters, where indignant and hysterical maids would call down vengeance on my devoted head. even should i succeed in finding the man’s roorn, what should i ask his aid for-a burglar hunt ? but burglars do not scratch with their fingernails on people’s doors. a ghost hunt? _ ._ _h__ a. ____ the house of ‘horror 85 then i should probably frighten all betty’s domestics into departing next day, besides laying up endless ridicule for myself when nothing came of it. how did i know that oscar, the deerhound, had not been taught the clever trick of scratching and bumping in correct time ? there was nothing for it but to go back and await further developments. i shut the door, but did not lock it, put my papers away, all idea of further writing being out of the question, placed the lamp on a chest of drawers exactly opposite the door, lighted every candle in the room, and, revolver in hand, stood by the door ready to wrench it wide open before the practical joker could have time to depart. the first intimation of the return of my visitant was, as usual, from “ nell,” the fox-terrier. again her coat bristled and her limbs stiffened, the same visible tremor shook her whole body, and her eyes once more fixed themselves with agonised attention on the door. in a little i, too, heard the bump, bump, bump along the gallery, the rustling and brushing, the thump against the door. then a sniff under it, and a long scratch, as if with a sharp finger-nail, down the paint. breathless with excitement, i flung back the door. in a moment i knew what betty had meant when she said her hair “ moved.” for my flesh, all over my body and scalp, “ crept,” and every hair on my head stood straight on end. i must admit, without reserve, that i was utterly 86 the white ghost book terror-stricken, and absolutely paralysed with fright. my hand holding the revolver dropped limply to my side when, in the full glare of the lamp, i saw the creature that squatted in the doorway. no one who has not experienced the sensation can in the smallest measure understand the absolute weakness that came over me, the seeming cessation of the pulses of life, the grip in heart and brain, the deadly numbness which rendered me incapable of thought, word, or action, when i first saw that awful beast. i heard a sharp yelp from the terrier just when the door swung back, but after that there was no sound or movement from the dog, and the creature on the mat and i faced each other in absolute silence. the lamp burnt brightly, the fire fizzed and puffed, and my fascinated eyes took in every detail, every gruesome feature, of the indescribable horror squatting at my door. the thing was about the size of a sheep, thin, gaunt and shadowy in parts. its face was human —or, to be more accurate, inhuman—in its vileness, with large holes of blackness for eyes, loose slobbery lips, and a thick saliva-dripping jaw, sloping suddenly back into its neck. nose it had none, only spreading, cancerous cavities, the whole face being one uniform tint of grey. this, too, was the colour of the dark, coarse hair covering its head, neck, and body. the forearms were thickly coated with the same hair, so were its paws—large, loose, and handshaped; and as it sat on its hind legs, one hand or paw was raised, and a claw-like finger was extended to scratch the paint. the house of horror 87 its lustreless eyes, which seemed half decomposed in black cavities and looked incredibly foul, stared into mine, and the horrible smell which had before offended my nostrils, only a hundred times intensified, came up into my face, filling me with a deadly nausea. i noticed the lower half of the creature was indefinite and seemed semi-transparent—at least, i could see the framework of the door that led into the gallery through its body. i cannot tell exactly how long we thus stood, gazing at each other—time seemed to cease and eternity begin—but at last the creature gave a species of hop and landed well inside the_room. then my hitherto nerveless fingers closed round my revolver—oh! the comfort its cold stock gave me—and covering the brute carefully between its prominent eyes, i fired. a crash of lead striking the wood of the large hanging cupboard behind the object i aimed at told me i had either missed or my bullet had gone clean through the thing’s head. it did not seem one bit inconvenienced, merely turning its vile countenance at the sound of the splintered wood. i took aim once more, desperately determining that if lead could solve the mystery, my bullet should this time. i could not have missed, but another ping of the bullet into the wardrobe was the only result of the second shot. z my flesh crept again, and a stifling tightness clutched my throat. either my eyesight was failing or the creature was gradually becoming less distinct. just as i was preparing for a third shot it reared itself 88 the white ghost book upright, and holding its arms rather bent, it took one step forward, as if about to spring upon me. was it a trick of my hot, aching eyes, or not ? i cannot say, but the horrible, bestial lines of the creature gradually merged into the grey, featureless shape betty had described. overcoming the strongest physical repugnance at the thought of the creature touching me, i pressed my revolver right up or into its breast—and fired. springing back to avoid its “ hands ” clutching me, my ankle twisted, and i fell, something striking me a sharp, stinging blow on the temple. * * * ill ll! the next thing i heard was betty’s voice saying joyfully, “ he is coming to, now, doctor, i am sure.” my eyelids seemed weighted as with lead, but with an effort i opened them, to see a man i could not recollect having ever met standing over me with a pair of scissors in one hand and a roll of sticking-plaster in the other. beside him stood betty, and maurice was supporting my head. i was lying on a bed in a small room i had not been in before, but which, from the whips and boots about, i guessed rightly to be o’connoll’s dressing-room. “ you fell and split your scalp against an iron bedpost, old man,” said maurice. “-we got dr. charterly out to mend you up.” “ not quite so bad as that, o’connoll,” the doctor corrected, smiling. “ i expect captain gordon has had many a worse head than this. there—that’s as neat a job as i can make of it ;' you’ll have to the house of horror 89 wear your hat well over your eyes to hide the ‘ plashter,’ or your friends will say you’ve been prizefighting. want to get up, do you? i would not, if i were you; it’s not much more than seven yet, so lie where you are until breakfast-time, and try and get a sleep. here—drink this up.” “ betty,” i called rather weakly, feeling an insane desire to cry, “ betty, are you all safe ? ” “ of course, madam o’connoll is. why shouldn’t she be ? ” interrupted the doctor. “ it’s ruining her complexion she is, stopping out of bed like this. now, o’connoll, please, i’ll be much obliged if you and your good lady will leave me alone with my patient. with your permission, i will take a couple of hours’ rest in this fine chair and then invite myself to breakfast with you, for i’m due at your dispensary at ten, so it’s not worth while going home.” my cousin pressed my hand, and she and her husband left me alone with the doctor. i was beginning to speak when he stopped me. “ look here, captain gordon,” he said, “ i presume you want to get well fast ? then don’t be bothering your poor battered brain with thinking. you’ve had a fall and a fright—no one else was frightened or hurt, and you yourself are not at all bad ; if you sleep now, you’l1 be well when you wake up.” “ doctor,” i cried earnestly, “ i must get to dublin to-night, and madam o’connoll ”‘ “ and madam o’connoll and himself are to go with you—by medical orders i ” the doctor said, with a comical twist of his face. “ i’m hunting the lot of ye away for a change—babies and all. so unless you want to be left here all alone with the alternative of go the white ghost book ballykinkope union infirmary, get to sleep and be fit for the journey.” he sat in an arm-chair, wrapped a rug round his feet, and vouchsafed me no more words. my thoughts were confused and chaotic; but before i‘ could arrange them the medicine he had given me did its work, and i went to sleep. o’connoll was sitting in the room when i awoke, and a tray with breakfast things was on a table beside my bed. my head was quite clear now. i was free from aches and pains, and very hungry. “the doctor said you could get up when you’d eaten something. but there is no hurry, gordon, as our train does not go until three o’clock. feel pretty fit again ? ” “ i’m so awfully sorry, o’conno1l,” i began. he stopped me. “ i know what you mean, old man; it’s no fault of yours, i suppose. look here, though—about last night. it’s betty i don’t want to have frightened, for it would only make her worse at frightening people like she doubtless frightened you. all her fault again, of course.” “ what happened when i fell ? i suppose you heard my shots and came in?” “ you let fly three times, didn’t you? i didn’t hear the first shot. betty did, and awoke me just at the second. i was half across the gallery when you fired last.” “ then you saw “ my dear fellow, i saw nothing; i make a point of never seeing anything in this house. i simply 99 the house of horror 91 can’t afford to! my father, grandfather, and their fathers before them spent their lives here—deuced long ones, too, judging by my. grandfather’s. the ghosts were talked of then just the same, and no one was one bit the worse for them that i ever heard of. my idea is, if you leave them alone they will leave you; so i have not seen, and do not see, and never will see one of them. but with my wife it is different. so, gordon, i want you to help me—do tell her a good thumping likely lie, and make her think you were drunk.” . “ kenneth can economise that lie,” betty said gently. she had heard her husband’s last words as she came into the room. “ i know what you are talking about, and i know kenneth was not dreaming, and, of course, i know he was not drunk. but i don’t want to know or hear another word of the subject. we’ll stop in dublin until november is over, and then—then we’ll come home. i am so sorry, kenneth, that you have proved to be one of the small percentage who ‘ see.’ many, many people come here, see nothing, and scoff at the idea of there being anything to see. you were less lucky. now i’m going to pack up. don’t you go into the other wing again; the clothes you want will be brought you here, and the rest packed up. now be a sensible man and don’t go trying to remember about last night ” (as if there was the smallest danger of my forgetting it !), “ but eat up your breakfast before you move.” “ betty’s right,” said o’connoll. “ we won’t talk of ghosts again. after all, what is the good? it all leads to nothing.” 92 r the white ghost book “ where is ‘ nell’ ? ” i cried, suddenly thinking of my little terrier friend. “ she is dead,” o’connoll answered shortly. i did not ask for more particulars. the marble mantelpiece the following story concerns a london hotel in the west end, a favourite resort of fashionable people of all nationalities. the incident related occurred to a lady well known to me, and whom i will call mrs. hope, for, unfortunately, i am not allowed to mention her real name. “ one summer,” said mrs. hope, “ i came to town to do some shopping and was the guest of a wealthy friend who generally had a small suite at claridge’s. it chanced that claridge’s was quite full, and my friend could not get her usual suite, so she took rooms in another hotel not far off. ¥‘ this hotel was also very full, and she had to content herself with rooms on the top floor, not well enough furnished to satisfy her, and the promise that a much better suite below would be vacant in a few days, which she could then have. “ i am entering into these details because they have a bearing on the story. “ my friend was located in the upper suite when i arrived, and we stayed together, spending our days in shopping, sight-seeing, motoring, and so on. the marble mantelpiece 93 “ the second day of my arrival i went into the sitting-room about two o’clock, when, to my astonishment, i saw a lady dressed in outdoor clothes sitting in an arm-chair. she was extremely pretty, and sat in a graceful attitude, with her hands folded. her dress was of soft grey material, something like ninon, and she wore a flat, wide-brimmed hat. i saw her face quite distinctly, and noticed that she was very fair and very delicate-looking. i can see her now in my mind’s eye. “ we were not expecting a visitor, but naturally i concluded she must be one, and advanced towards her, when suddenly she vanished! the arm-chair stood empty as before, and the lady had disappeared. “ i said nothing to my hostess, simply because i knew she would only laugh at me ; but i must confess i felt very uncomfortable, for the figure was not a shadowyone seen in a dim light, but a very real-looking one, seen in broad daylight. “ next day we moved down into the suite of rooms on the lower floor, the occupants, a russian prince and princess, having just left. the moment i went into the sitting-room i noticed a beautiful marble mantelpiece, and went nearer to examine it, for in these old london hotels one often comes across exquisite bits of ancient carving and decoration. the mantelpiece reached nearly to the ceiling, and was beautifully carved with wreaths of fruit and flowers —so beautifully that ruskin’s wonderful definition of fine architecture as ‘ frozen music ’ rushed into my mind. there were two marble pillars supporting it, and half-way up was a large medallion portrait of a beautiful woman. 94 the white ghost book “ then i simply gasped, for on the medallion was the face of the lady i had seen upstairs, flat-brimmed hat and all. “ seeing me change colour and look startled, my hostess asked me what was the matter, and then i told her about my vision of the previous day. she was much interested and questioned the servants and the people of the hotel, but they professed to know nothing. “ no doubt they knew a great deal more than they cared to say.” the white lady of bolling hall the recent marriage of president wilson and mrs. galt (née edith bolling) has aroused fresh interest in the ghost story of bolling hall, bradford, which is the ancestral home of the bride, and will no doubt be the mecca of all good americans on tour when they visit this country in days to come. rosamund bolling, who owned the estate in the sixteenth century, married sir richard tempest in 1502, and brought him the manor house as part of her dowry, and for generations the tempests held sway there, the last of them being a desperate gambler, who finally staked and lost bolling and the adjoining lands at cards. during the deal that was to have such momentous results, tempest was heard to exclaim: “ now ace, deuce and tray, or farewell bolling hall for ever and aye!” the white lady 95 it is not surprising that tempest died in the king’s bench in 1658, where he was imprisoned for debt, and his ghost is said to haunt the ghostchamber at bolling, which is a beautiful old room in which are portraits of sir richard tempest and rosamund bolling, his wife, painted on panels. the most famous ghost story of bolling hall, however, does not deal with the reckless gambler, tempest, but with an episode of the civil war. an old writer, who was himself in bradford at the time, tells the story in the course of his description of the horrors of the siege : * “ in the meantime the enemy (the earl of newcastle and the royalists) took the opportunity of a parley to remove their cannon, and brought them nearer the town and fixed them on~a certain place called goodman’s end, directly against the heart of the town and surrounding us on every side with horse and foot, so it was impossible for a single person to escape. nor could the troops within the town act on the defensive for want of ammunition, ‘which they had lost in their last defeat at adwalton ; nor had they a single match, but such as were made of twisted cords dipped in oil. “ oh, that dreadful and never-to-be-forgotten night, which was mostly spent in firing those deadly engines upon us, so that the blaze issuing therefrom appeared like lightning from heaven, the elements being, as it were, on fire, and the loud roaring of the cannon resembling the mighty thunders of the * “a genuine account of the sore calamities that befell bradford in the time of the civil war,” 96 the white ghost book sky! this same night sir thomas fairfax and the forces in his command cut their way through the besiegers and escaped from the town, thus leaving it more utterly at the royalists’ mercy. “ now, reader, here stop—stop for a moment—— pause and suppose thyself in the like dilemma. words cannot express, thoughts cannot imagine, nay, art itself is not able to point out the calamities and woeful distresses with which we were now overwhelmed withal! every countenance was spread with sorrow; every house was overwhelmed with grief; husbands lamenting over their families; women wringing their hands in despair; children shrieking, crying and clinging to their parents. death in all his dreadful forms and frightful aspects stalking in every street and every corner. in short, horror, despair, and destruction united their efforts to spread devastation and complete our ruin. “ what are all our former calamities in comparison with these ? before, there were some glimmering hopes of mercy from the enemy, but now they are fled—fled in every appearance. our foes were exasperated with the opposition they had met with from us, but especially the cruel death by which the earl of newport’s son fell by our unwary townsmen. for behold! immediately orders were issued out to the soldiers by the earl of newcastle, their commander, that the next morning they should put to the sword every man, woman, and child, without regard to age, sex, or distinction whatsoever. “ the night before the sentence was to be carried the white lady 97 out the earl of newcastle was sleeping at bolling, or bowling, hall. in the midst of the night a lady, clad in white, gauzy garments from head to foot, entered the earl’s bedroom, several times pulled the clothes from his bed, and then, when he was thoroughly aroused and trembling with fear, cried out with a lamentable voice, ‘ pity poor bradford! pity poor bradford!’ and disappeared. “ how far this was true i submit it to others to determine. but this much i must affirm—that the hand of providence never more conspicuously appeared in our favour, for lo! immediately the earl countermanded the former order, and forbade the death of any person whatsoever, except only such as made resistance. “ thus, from a state of anguish and despair, we, who were but just ready to be swallowed up, by the wonderful providence of the almighty were reprieved as criminals from the rack. see what a surprising change immediately takes place: the countenances of those who were but just before overspread with horror and despair began in some measure to resume their former gaiety and cheerfulness—a general joy and gladness diffused itself through every breast; the hearts of those who were ere now overwhelmed with sorrow are now big with praise and thanksgiving to god for the wonderful and surprising deliverance brought about in their favour.” 98 the white ghost book the haunted house at hindhead having heard that miss marjorie patterson, the clever young actress and novelist, had had some ghostly experiences, i asked her to give me an account of them. she kindly consented, and this is the story she told me: “ it happened last summer and the year before, when i was staying down at hindhead. the house was near the punchbowl, and it was not an old one, as is the case in most stories of haunted houses. “ the second night i slept there i awoke at eight in the morning, and the first thing my eyes rested on was the figure of an old lady sitting quietly by the side of my bed, looking at me. “ i must tell you that i am not one of those people who awake slowly and spend some time in coming gradually back from the land of dreams. on the contrary, the moment i wake up i am quite awake. “ on seeing the old lady there, my first feeling was one of annoyance. there were several old ladies in the house, and i thought it great presumption of this one to invade my room. i was most indignant and sat up in bed to ask her what she was doing there. she was dressed in black, and had on a mob cap which completely hid every vestige of her hair. she was very pale, with hollow cheeks, her nose was short and broad, and her teeth prominent. as i opened my mouth to speak, horrible to relate, her features slowly melted into the form of a hideous skull, and she vanished. haunted house at hindhead 99 “ i was very frightened. it was eight o’clock on a summer’s morning, and therefore quite light, but all the same i could not shake off the feeling of horror and fear. when the maid came in with my hot water, i told her what i had seen and questioned her closely, and she confessed that there was something queer about the room, and that a gentleman, who had occupied it not long before, had had to leave it suddenly. “ i knew that what i had seen was not the continuation of a dream, because, as i have said, i wake up thoroughly at once, and do not doze on drowsily as some people do. “ in spite of my shock i determined to stay on in the room, as i was decidedly interested. the next night i went to sleep, but in the middle of the " night i was awakened by the sound of two people whispering near my bed. the voices were those of old people. then something came along and stood quite close to me, still whispering, and i distinctly heard it rubbing its hands together and cracking its joints. the sounds i heard could not have been anybody in the next room, because the walls were solid and i could not hear any sound at any time in that room. there was no wind, and besides—i felt the awful thing near me. . “ i continued to sleep in the room, wondering what would happen next, and i heard the thing, whatever it was, frequently. often i would wake and say to myself, ‘ it’s on this side—it’s on that side.’ one night i called my mother, and, though she s: w nothing, she felt it too. “ after its first appearance to me it didn’t 100 the white ghost book materialise any more, but it never left me alone, and i got exasperated and used to speak aloud to it, and say, ‘do for goodness’ sake get out and let me go to sleep.’ “ one night i had been down to the bathroom to have a bath, and it was rather late—about twelve o’clock--when i came upstairs with my sponge and towels in my hand. as i entered my room and switched on the light, i felt the usual sensation that it was there. in front of the fireplace stood an old wicker chair with its back to the door. i heard the chair creak loudly, and as i looked at it i saw the two arms open out slowly, as if some old person were getting up out of it most laboriously, and the chair moved back and quivered, and rocked over on its back legs. _ “ the whole of that house, ‘not only my room, was haunted, particularly in the month of september. vague grey shadows, sometimes running low on the ground like animals, would be seen by people on the stairs. there were very strange influences and uncanny sounds there. sometimes for days together i heard nothing, and then a queer feeling would come over me, a physical feeling, as if a cold breath passed over my head and ruffled my hair, and i would say, ‘ it’s back here.’ “ they say these elementals are very teasing and mischievous. i accounted for them by the fact that the neighbourhood had in olden times been the scene of murder and other dark deeds done by highwaymen, and we were not far from the spot where the gibbct once stood and the bodies of the murderers used to hang in chains. i have been haunted house at hindhead i01 told by psychic people that if you speak to elementals you ought to wish them happiness. “ one of the last nights i slept in the haunted room i had another experience. it was in the evening, and my mother was with me, and we were talking. suddenly the electric light was turned off '—the knob moved, and we both distinctly heard it click. then it clicked again, and the light went up. i cried out: ‘ mother, it’s in the room i ’ * ill iii * ll! “ that was the end of my hindhead experiences, but it might interest you to hear of something that happened when i was a child of eight. i was too young at the time to remember it distinctly now, but my mother, who tells the story, always says it made a great impression on her. “ we were living at scarborough. the town became very crowded during the season, and we drove over the moors to find a little cottage where we could get lodgings away from the town. at last we found an ideal, picturesque little place, covered with jasmine and roses and standing in a dear old-fashioned garden. “ the woman who owned it lived there, and let us the rooms. i had a front bedroom overlooking the garden, with a lattice window and some nice old-fashioned furniture and china. “ one day i was sitting at the window when my mother came in and said, ‘ isn’t this a fascinating room ? ’ “ ‘ yes,’ i am told i answered, ‘ but so sad.’ “ my mother was astonished, for it was a particui02 the white ghost book larly sunny, cheerful room; then i added to my mother’s astonishment by saying, ‘ mother, is there any illness you can have that stops you from moving t i feel as if one side of me was dead.” “ just then, before she could answer, the woman who ‘owned the cottage came in and said, ‘ isn’t it a pretty view ? it was such a comfort to my mother. she had paralysis, and used to sit by that window for hours looking out.’ “ very strange—wasn’t it ?—that the dead woman’s sensations should have been felt long afterwards by a child ? ” the ghost with the evil face the incident related in this story happened to an officer in the royal navy, a personal friend of mine. i have his kind permission to publish the story as he told it to me: “ when i was a boy of eight or nine we were living near alverstoke, in hampshire. the house was an old one, on a common, with a wall-garden and small lawn. the windows had little old-fashioned square panes, and on one of them a former occupant or visitor had scratched her name, ‘ mary carmoys.’ the house had been built on to, and had probably once been, a large cottage. the stable was never used, except as a coal cellar, for the people who lived there before us did not keep horses, nor did we. the evil face 103 “ we rented the house furnished, and had been there for several years before what i am going to tell you took place. my father was away at sea, and there were only my mother, we children, and the servants at home at the time. \ “ one evening i had not been feeling well, and my mother suggested that i had better go to bed. i went upstairs with her, and she left me at the top of the landing stairs while she went up three steps to the right and along a passage to the entrance to the bathroom, where a table always stood, on which the bedroom candles were kept. “ ‘ you wait here,’ she said; ‘ i’ll go and get a light.’ “ to make clear the exact position where i was left, i will draw you a rough plan. the hall lamp 7616/a w///; 6'0/rd/0.://0.4-g was not lighted, nor the landing lamp, so it was fairly dusk, being close on october, about six in the evening. “ as i say, my mother left me while she went to light a candle. when she was gone and i was waiting for her to come back, i saw facing me a man dressed as a sailor in a blue jersey and stocking cap, who stared at me very intently. his expression 104 the white ghost book frightened me, and his face was peculiarly repulsive. he looked like a particularly villainous specimen of the loafers one sees on the hard at portsmouth. “ as i watched him, shaking with fright, i heard my mother returning. as she came down the steps the man vanished quite suddenly. she noticed that i was upset, and asked me what was the matter. i said: ‘ there’s a man standing in the passage.’ “ ‘ oh, nonsense!’ said my mother; but she hunted the whole house and found no one. “ i was so thoroughly frightened at seeing the man that nothing would induce me to sleep in my own room, and so i slept with my mother. i may add that she was very religious and extremely sceptical of anything of the nature of ghosts, but my terror was so evident that she saw i was not humbugging or telling a lie. she had at first believed that i had seen a real man—probably a tramp who had broken into the house, but after she had made a thorough search and had found nothing, she did not know what to make of it. ‘ i ii ill # ill “ six years later, when we had gone to live in devonshire, the conversation turned on servants, rand i asked my mother why my former nurse and the cook had left so suddenly. she told me they had both seen the man within a few days of my seeing him, and had left the house at once. my mother added that she had since heard that the house was haunted by a sailor who was supposed to have been murdered in it over some dispute about a girl. the evil face 105 “ the house, which stood close to the creek, had been a well known depot for smugglers. this was borne out by subsequent events. major graham (as i will call him), who was the next tenant after ourselves, kept horses. the stable, therefore, was cleared out and used. one day, one of his horses fell into a pit on the way to the stable, the ground having given way, and there was found a regular smugglers’ hiding-place of the old type, such as you read about in stories. “ that ends my story, but i can assure you i shall never forget seeing the ghost as long as i live. i can remember his horrible malignant expression to this very day.” a ghost seen in borrowdale, cumberland dr. haswell, of leamington, had the following strange experience in the north of england, which he has thus described to me: “ some few years ago, in the month of november, my friend b and i were staying at rosthwaite, in borrowdale. at the time we were keen on photography, and we found many excellent opportunities of practising our hobby amongst the hills and valleys of this charming place. r “ one day we went to the lonely hamlet of watendlath, and after a fairly successful time with our cameras, were returning to rosthwaite as the 106 the white ghost book mournful autumn sun was nearing the high mountains in the south-west. “ from watendlath to rosthwaite the steep hill track passes a plantation of larch on the left. when we reached this place we decided to go round the other side of the plantation in the hope of finding some fresh subject. my friend lingered a few minutes behind, whilst i went forward and found myself on the wrong side of a stone wall. to regain the usual track i had to climb this wall. this i did, climbing to the top and leaving my camera and bag there whilst i jumped down on to the turf. having secured my apparatus, i waited near the wall till b could join me. i then looked towards the west and saw, close to the wall, scarcely fifty yards ahead, the figure of a lady (i use the word ‘lady ’ as distinguished from ‘ countrywoman ’) bending over, looking towards the wall as if searching for something on the ground. the lady was dressed in black, or a very dark-coloured material; there was nothing antique or remarkable about her appearance, and i concluded that she must be a tourist. wondering what she might be looking for, i watched her for a minute or so. it then occurred to me that she might be startled if i went forward, so i remained where i was, waiting for my friend. “he soon came up and scaled the wall. we then moved on for a yard or two, and it struck me at that moment that i might get a picture looking back in the direction we had come from. to my great astonishment, on turning again tovards rosthwaite i found the lady had vanished. i | |'f‘.1& a cumberland ghost 107 immediately said to bi, ‘where is that lady . gone?’ “ he replied, ‘ what lady ? ’ “ i answered, ‘ didn’t you see a lady there looking at the ground ? ’ “ b replied that he had seen nobody. “ i then told him that i was sure he must have seen the lady, which was my reason for not having drawn his attention to her sooner. feeling curious, we both examined the whole place round, but could find no trace of any lady. in fact, there was nobody in sight in any direction. it would have been very difficult for a lady to climb over the wall about there, for it was rather high and the stones loose; and even if it had been done she could not possibly have concealed herself on the other side, where the open fell lay, with pools of water in the foreground. nor could any person have escaped our observation on the track we followed to rosthwaite. it was impossible. “ the face of the apparition—for such i concluded the ‘lady ’ must have been—was peculiarly dusky; it may have been partly averted. no solution was ever found, and though i watched carefully for some days to see if any person at all like what i had seen were really living about rosthwaite, i failed to find any. there was some movement in the figure i saw, though not much; and in point of time it remained visible to me for several minutes.” 108 the white ghost book the wesley ghost story there is no better authenticated ghost story than that of epworth parsonage, the home of the wesleys, in lincolnshire, because the whole wesley family confirmed it, as well as other witnesses. at the time the disturbances took place the rector was the rev. samuel wesley, father of the celebrated john wesley, who lived there with his wife and most of the members of his large family. sam, the eldest son, and john were at westminster; charles, another son, was away from home; but the girls, emilia, sukey, molly, hetty, nancy, and others, were all at home, and not only did the rector and his wife suffer many things from ghostly visitations, but all the girls, from emilia, who was twenty-two, 1% little patty and keziah, who were merely children, as well as the three servants, were scared nearly out of their wits by what they saw and heard. years after john wesley wrote an account of the epworth' ghost for the armian magazine, a publication which afterwards became the wesleyan methodist magazine. he based it on his own strict investigations, and it runs as follows: “ when i was very young i heard several letters read, wrote to my elder brother by my father, giving an account of strange disturbances which were in the house at epworth, in lincolnshire. “ when i went down thither, in the year 1720, i carefully inquired into the particulars. i spoke to each of the persons who were then in the house, the wesley ghost story 109 and took down what each could testify of his or her own knowledge. the sum of which was this: “ on december 2, 1716, while robert brown, my father’s servant, was sitting with one of the maids, a little before ten at night, in the dining room, which opened into the garden, they both heard a knocking at the door. robert rose and opened it, but could see nobody. quickly it knocked again, and groaned. ‘ it is mr. turpine,’ said robert; ‘ he has the stone, and uses to groan so.’ “ he opened the door again twice or thrice, the knocking being twice or thrice repeated, but still. seeing nothing, and being a little startled, they rose and went to bed. “ when robert came to the top of the garret stairs he saw a handmill, which was at a little distance, whirled about very swiftly. when he related this he said: ‘ nought vexed me but that it was empty. i thought, if it had been full of malt he might have ground his heart out for me.’ when he was in bed he heard, as it were, the gobbling of a turkey-cock close to the bedside, and soon after the sound of one stumbling over his shoes and boots; but there were none there—-he had left them below. “ the next day he and the maid related these things to the other maid, who laughed heartily, and said, ‘ what a couple of fools you are! i defy anything to frighten me i ’ after churning in the evening she put the butter in the tray, and had no sooner carried it into the dairy than she heard a knocking on the shelf where several puneheons of milk stood, first above the shelf, then below. she no the white ghost book took the candle and searched both above and below, but, being able to find nothing, threw down butter, tray and all and ran away for life. “ the next evening, between five and six o’clock, my sister molly, then about twenty years of age, sitting in the dining-room reading, heard as if it were the door that led into the hall open, and a person walking in, that seemed to have on a silk nightgown, rustling and trailing along. it seemed to walk round her and then to the door, then round again; but she could see nothing. she thought: ‘ it signifies nothing to run away, for whatever it is it can run faster than me.’ so she rose, put her book under her arm, and walked slowly away. after supper she was sitting with my sister sukey (about a year older than her) in one of the chambers, and telling her what had happened. she made quite light of it, telling her, ‘ i wonder you are so easily frightened. i would fain see what would frighten me.’ “ presently a knocking began under the table. she took the candle and looked, but could find nothing. then the iron casement began to clatter. next the catch of the door moved up and down without ceasing. she started up, leaped into the bed without undressing, pulled the bedclothes over her head and never ventured to look up until next morning. “ a night or two after, my sister hetty (a year younger than my sister molly) was waiting as usual between nine and ten to take away my father’s candle, when she heard someone coming down the garret stairs, walking slowly by her, then going slowly down the best stairs, then up the back stairs the wesley ghost story iii and up the garret stairs, and at every step it seemed the house shook from top to bottom. just then my father knocked, she went in, took the candle, and got to bed as fast as possible. in the morning she told it to my eldest sister, who told her, ‘ you know i believe none of these things; pray, let me take away the candle to-night, and i will find out the trick.’ she accordingly took my sister hetty’s place, and had no sooner taken away the candle than she heard a noise below. she hastened downstairs to the hall where the noise was, but it was then in the kitchen. she ran into the kitchen, when it was drumming on the inside of the screen. “ when she went round, it was drumming on the outside and so always on the side opposite to her. then she heard a knocking on the back kitchen door. she ran to it, unlocked it softly, and, when the knocking was repeated, suddenly opened it, but nothing was to be seen. as soon as she had shut it the knocking began again. she opened it again, but could see nothing. when she went to shut the door it was violently knocked against her, but she set her knee and her shoulder to the door, forced it to, and turned the key. then the knocking began again, but she let it go on and went up to bed. however, from that time she was thoroughly convinced that there was no imposture. “ the next morning my sister told my mother what had happened, and she said, ‘ if i hear anything myself i shall know how to judge.’ soon after my sister begged her mother to come into the nursery. she did, and heard, in the corner of the room, as it were, the violent rocking of a cradle, 1:2 the white ghost book but no cradle had been there for some years. she was convinced it was preternatural, and earnestly prayed it might not disturb her in her own chamber at the hour of retirement; and it never did. she now thought it proper to tell my father, but he was extremely angry, and said, ‘ sukey,* i am ashamed of you. these boys and girls frighten one another, but you are a woman of sense, and should know better. let me hear of it no more.’ “at six in the evening he had family prayers as usual. when he began the prayer for‘ the king a knocking began all round the room, and a thundering knock attended the ‘ amen.’ the same was heard from this time every morning and evening while the prayer for the king was repeated. as both my father and mother are now at rest and incapable of being pained thereby, i think it my duty to furnish the serious reader with a key to this circumstance. “ the year before king william died my father observed my mother did not say ‘ amen ’ to the prayer for the king. she said she would not, for she did not believe the prince of orange was king. he vowed he would never cohabit with her until she did. he then took his horse and rode away, nor did she hear anything of him for a twelvemonth. he then came back and lived with her as before. but i fear his vow was not forgotten before god. “being informed that mr. hoole, the vicar of haxey, could give me some further information, i * mrs. wesley is also referred to as “ sukey "-an abbreviation of “ susannah.” the wesley ghost story 113 walked over to him. he said (referring to the bygone disturbances at epworth parsonage) : “ robert brown came over to me and told me your father desired my company; when i came he gave me an account of all that had happened, particularly the knocking during family prayer. but that evening (to my great satisfaction) we heard no knocking at all. but between nine and ten a servant came in and said : ‘ old jeffrey is coming (that was the name of one who had died in the house), for i hear the signal.’ this, they informed me, was heard every night about a quarter before ten. it was towards the top of the house, on the outside, at the north-east corner, resembling the loud creaking of a saw, or rather of a windmill, when the body of it is turned about in order to shift the sails to the wind. “ we then heard a knocking over our heads, and mr. wesley, catching up a candle, said: ‘ come, sir; now you shall hear for yourself.’ we went upstairs, he with much hope, and i (to say the truth) with much fear. when we came into the nursery, it was knocking in the next room; when we went there it was knocking in the nursery; and there it continued to knock, though we came in, and particularly at the head of the bed (which was of wood), in which miss hetty and two of her younger sisters lay. mr. wesley, observing that they were much aflected—though asleep—sweating and trembling exceedingly, was very angry, and pulli 114 the white ghost book ing out a pistol, was going to fire at the place whence the sound came. but i snatched him by the arm and said: ‘ sir, you are convinced that this is something preternatural. if so, you cannot hurt it, but you give it power to hurt you.’ he then went close to the place and said sternly, ‘ thou deaf and dumb devil. why dost thou fright these children who cannot answer for themselves? come to me in my study, that am a man!’ instantly it knocked his knock (the particular knock which he always used at the gate) as if it would shiver the board to pieces, and we heard nothing more that night. “ till that time my father had never had the least disturbance in his study. but the next evening, as he attempted to go into the study (of which none had the key but himself), when he opened the door it was thrust back with such violence as had like to have thrown him down. however, he thrust the door open and went in. presently there was a. knocking, first on one side, then on the other; and after a time in the next room, wherein my sister nancy was. he went into that room, and, the noise continuingfadjured it to speak, but in vain. he then said: ‘ these spirits love darkness; put out the candle, and perhaps it will speak.’ she did so, and he repeated the adjuration; but still there was only knocking and no articulate sound. upon this he said: ‘ nancy, two christians are an overmatch for the devil. go all of you downstairs; it may be, when i am alone, he will have courage to speak.’ the wesley ghost story 115 “ when she was gone a thought came into his head and he said: ‘ if thou art the spirit of my son samuel, i pray knock three knocks, and no more.’ immediately all was silence, and there was no more knocking all that night. i asked my sister nancy (then fifteen years old) whether she was not afraid when my father used that adjuration. she answered she was sadly afraid it would speak when she put out the candle, but she was not at all afraid in the daytime, when it walked after her, only she thought when she was about her work he (the ghost) might have done it for her and saved her the trouble. “ by this time, all my sisters were so accustomed to these noises that they gave them little disturbance. a gentle tapping at their bed-head usually began between nine and ten at night. they then commonly said to each other: ‘ jeffrey is coming; it is time to go to sleep.’ and if they heard a noise in the day and said to my youngest sister, ‘ hark, kezzy, jeffrey is knocking above,’ she would run upstairs and pursue it from room to room, saying she desired no better diversion. “ my father and mother had just gone to bed and the candle was not taken away, when they heard three blows and a second and a third three, as it were, with a large oaken staff struck upon a chest which stood by the bedside. my father immediately arose, put on his gown, and hearing great noises below, took the candle and went down, my mother walking by his side. as they went down the broad stairs they heard as if a vessel full of silver was poured upon my mother’s breast and ran jingling down to her feet. quickly after there was a sound 116 the white ghost book as if a large iron bell were thrown among many bottles under the stairs, but nothing was hurt. soon after our large mastiff dog came, and ran to shelter himself between them. while the disturbances continued he used to bark and leap and snap on one side and the other, and that frequently before any person in the room heard any noise at all. but after two or three days he used to tremble and creep away before the noise began. and by this the family knew it was at hand ; nor did the observation ever fail. “ a little before my father and mother came into the hall, it seemed as if a very large coal was violently thrown upon the floor and dashed all in pieces; but nothing was seen. my father then cried out : ‘ sukey, do you not hear ? all the pewter is thrown about in the kitchen.’ but when they looked all the pewter stood in its place. then there was a loud knocking at the back door. my father opened it, but saw nothing. it was then at the front door. he opened that, but it was still lost labour. after opening first the one, then the other several times, he turned and went up to bed. but the noises were so violent all over the house that he could not sleep till four in the morning. “ several gentlemen and clergymen now earnestly advised my father to quit the house. but he constantly said: ‘ no, let the devil flee from me; i will never flee from the devil.’ but he wrote to my eldest brother at london to come down. he was preparing to do so when another letter came informing him the disturbances were over, after they had continued (the latter part of the time day and the wesley ghost story 117 night) from the 2nd of december to the end of february.” mr. samuel wesley’s journal confirms this account in every particular, and gives further details. the extracts are unfortunately too long to quote here. this account is also fully confirmed in a series of letters which passed between members of the wesley family at epworth and samuel wesley, brother of john, who was at that time an usher at westminster school. sam was greatly interested in the family ghost and wrote: “ i expect a particular account from everyone.” his father, mother, and sisters all sent him thrilling descriptions of the happenings and also to “ jack.” all the letters and accounts agree, but details given in some are omitted in others. on one occasion, when the manservant went -into the dining-room “ something like a badger without a head ” was sitting by the fire and ran past him into the hall. he took a candle and followed it, but saw nothing. another time it seemed like a white rabbit. on three occasions mr. wesley was pushed by an invisible hand, once against a corner of his desk, a second time against a bedroom door, and the third time against the frame of his study door. when he addressed the intruder he was never answered in an articulate voice, but once or twice in “ two or three feeble squeaks.” one night, .when nancy wesley was sitting on the press bed with her sister playing cards, the bed was lifted up, and she jumped down, saying that surely old jeffrey would not run away with her. she sat down again, persuaded by her sisters, and 118 the white ghost book then the bed was lifted up high, several times in succession. ' mr. wesley, on february 11th, 1717, wrote to his son samuel : “ dear sam,— “ as for the noises, etc., in our family, i thank god we are now all quiet. there were some surprising circumstances in that affair. your mother has not written you a third part of it. when i see you here you shall have the whole account, which i will write down. it would make a glorious penny book for jack dunton,* but while i live i am not ambitious for anything of that nature. i think that is all, but blessings from your loving father. “ sam wes1.ey.” however, mr. wesley was premature in saying that this was the end, for in the following march, when he was dining with his family, his trencher began dancing about on the table. indeed, “ old jeffrey ” visited emilia wesley, then mrs. harper, thirty-four years later, and always on the eve of some trouble. 1! ii ib * * attempts have, of course, been made to explain away the ghost story of epworth. the noises have been attributed to several causes. dr. priestley, in his preface to “ original letters of -john wesley,” says he thought the whole affair trickery by servants. the servants, however, at that time robin brown, " a relative, who was an author. the wesley ghost story i19 betty massey, and nancy marshall, were beyond suspicion, and were nearly frightened to death themselves. dr. salmon, in an article in the fortnightly review, attributes the noises to hetty, because she was described as a lively girl, and is the only one who gave no evidence. hetty, however, it will be remembered, was in bed when her father was addressing the ghost, besides which she could ' hardly contrive a “ badger without a head ” or the other ghostly sights. if the noises were trickery on the part of hetty, how could they be heard thirtyfour years later by emilia wesley (then mrs. harper) in london ? on the other hand, mrs. wesley, whose strohg, noble character has earned her the title of “ the mother of methodism,” firmly believed that the disturbances were supernatural, and wrote full accounts of them herself to her son sam. her daughters emilia, hetty, molly, susannah, and nancy shared this belief implicitly. the rev. mr. hoole, who prevented mr. wesley from firing at the ghost lest it should injure him in return, was also a believer. john wesley was inclined to think that the ghost was an evil spirit sent to punish his father for the rash vow he had made fifteen years before, and for leaving his wife for a year because she refused to pray for william of orange. southey, who wrote the “ life of wesley,” did the same, and admits that he is “ as deeply and fully persuaded as john wesley was that the spirits of the departed are sometimes permitted to manifest themselves,” though he differs from john wesley in not believing in witchcraft, and in rzo the white ghost book doubting the reality of demoniacal possession. he looks upon the occurrences at epworth as supernatural, and dr. adam clarke, author of “ memoirs of the wesley family,” takes the same view. in fact, it is impossible to do otherwise, considering the weight of strong evidence given by a family of unimpeachable honour like the wesleys. john wesley was a firm believer in apparitions, and considered them as helping to confirm the truths of the bible. he has left us this remarkable passage in his writings: “ it is true that the english in general, and, indeed, most of the men in europe, have given up all accounts of witches and apparitions as mere old wives’ fables. i am sorry for it, and i willingly take this opportunity of entering my solemn protest against this violent compliment which so many that believe the bible pay to those who do not believe it. . . . they well know, whether christians know it or not, that the giving up witchcraft is, in effect, giving up the bible. and they know, on the other hand, that if but one account of the intercourse of men with separate spirits be admitted, their whole castle in the air—deism, atheism, materialism—falls to the ground.” “ some years since,” says a writer in notes and queries, september 4th, 1909, “ when a wing was added to the rectory house at epworth, the builder showed me some charred timbers which were said to have formed part of the former house in which john wesley was born. this old house was so far destroyed by the fire that it had to be entirely pulled down, and the new one was built on a different plan, and not exactly on the same site.” two south african stories the unseen hnrn-t111: dnmcrnn karma i am indebted for the following true stories to a lady well-known in johannesburg, to whom the incidents related actually happened. she gave me the stories herself while on a visit to london: “ some years ago we were living in a seaport town in south africa. the house was built over a bank, and after the architect had designed it my mother suggested certain alterations in portions of the house, which were carried out. when the incident i am going to describe happened, the house had been enlarged and a landing had been thrown into one room to make it larger. “ my bedroom had been our night nursery when we were children, so i slept in it without fear, especially as we had lived thirteen years in the house and no one had lived there before us. “ one night, however, i woke up suddenly, feeling very queer, and with a conviction that there was somebody in the room. i looked round, and it seemed to me that there was a shadow between my eyes and the pale light of the moon coming in through the cracks of the venetian blinds. the shadow was indefinite in form, but i saw there was something there, and, although terribly frightened, i held my breath and watched it—fascinated. “ as i looked it faded slowly away, and the next thing i knew was that my elbow was grasped firmly by an unseen hand. i was lying in the middle of x2! 122 the white ghost book the bed, which was next to the wall, with the mosquito net carefully drawn over it, and my elbow was on the wall side, so no living person could have come into the room and taken hold of it. i will draw you a rough plan of the house to make this quite clear and also to explain what follows. liiiiiliiii iii! i | ||'4.1a"iii o /9 c/-/v c ¢/a;;;;‘;;vi/ “ presently the grasp on my elbow relaxed ; there was no sound. everything was deadly still, and in the silence i heard the church clock strike three. i remember nothing more, and must have fainted. “ next day i said nothing about what had happened—i knew my brothers would roar with laughter and chaff me unmercifully. but my mind was so full of it that the day after that i felt i must tell the unseen hand 123 someone, and i told my mother all about it. she is one of the most level-headed, common-sense people i have ever known, and therefore i was surprised when, instead of laughing at me, she looked very serious. and questioned me closely. i asked her if she had heard anything that night, as her room was next door to mine, and one of the children slept with her. she said she had, but that she had said nothing about it. now that i had also had such a strange experience it fitted in, in a most extraordinary way, with one of her own on the same night. “ she was sleeping, as i have said, in the next room with my little brother. the room was a very large one, with a door in one corner. she remembered distinctly having locked the door as usual, which she always did, and she went to sleep soon after. “ she awoke suddenly, feeling the bed heave under her, and at once thought there must be a burglar in the room. she lay still, and in a few moments it heaved again, and so violently that it woke my little brother, who sat up. my mother put her hand over his face and told him to lie down, and he went to sleep again. meanwhile, all was still. then my mother got out of bed, and as she did so she heard the clock strike three. “ she went towards the electric light to turn it on, but before she could get to the light the door-, which was standing wide open, hit her full in the face. she lighted a candle, and being very fearless, went all over the house, but everything was perfectly quiet, the front door locked, and not the 124 the white ghost book slightest trace of anyone having come in. she examined every door and window. my father and four more brothers were sleeping in the house and heard nothing. “ whatever it was that gave me that fright, frightened us both. “ most extraordinary of all, i came to johannesburg eighteen months after to visit some cousins, who had stayed in that same house during the boer war while we were in england. we were talking one day about ghosts, and i happened to say i had had a funny experience at home one night. “ the girls looked at each other, and one said: ‘ i bet i know which room it was in.’ “ ‘ so do i,’ said the other. “ they named the room, and said that not one of them would sleep in it, as there were such extraordinary sounds there. when the house was full they had sometimes slept three in a room rather than go into it.” ill if * i l “ another strange experience i had was about three years ago. my brother and i were looking out for a house, and we heard of one to let furnished in a small mining town at an absurdly low rent, the owner having gone to durban. “ the rent was so small that i asked my brother if the drains were all right, and he said he had had them thoroughly examined. there were three bedrooms, a sitting-room, dining-room, and kitchen, and a small garden at the back, and it was really a charming little place. we took it for three months and settled in, and for about a month nothing happened. the dejected kafir 125 “ the room in which what i am going to tell you about took place was my bedroom. i was sleeping alone, my brother and a girl friend of mine occupying the other two bedrooms. “ one morning, very early—it was about five back cordon era/barb k/'/ch: fr/end’; room fran} caro/on o’clock but broad daylight—i woke up suddenly and felt someone was in the room. i was lying on my right side, facing the door of the room, and i saw a kafir boy leaning up against the wall in a very dejected attitude, just inside the door, as if he was being scolded. i sat up and asked him what he meant by being there, but as i spoke the figure vanished. i got up and searched, but the door 126 the white ghost book was locked, and there was no chimney or other exit except the window, which the boy had not gone near. “ next day i asked my friend—i will call her mildred—to sleep with me, not telling her what i had seen. “ the second morning after, about the same time, the same thing happened. mildred was asleep, but when i called out involuntarily ‘ there it is ! ’ she woke up, and asked me what was the matter. so i told her, but by that time the figure had vanished. “ we were both very nervous, but continued to sleep in the room, and for a short time nothing happened. one night, when it was pitch dark, i woke up with a feeling that there was something in the room, and i distinctly heard soft footsteps on the linoleum-covered floor. they came close up to the bed and went. ~ “ i woke up mildred and also my brother, and we searched the house thoroughly, but found everything locked and undisturbed. “ next night i told mildred we would watch. we agreed to stay awake as long as we could, and if i heard anything i would not speak, but squeeze her arm, and if she heard anything she would do the same. “ we half opened the door and barricaded it with a rocking-chair and other furniture, through which nothing could pass ; and though nothing happened that night, we repeated the experiment the next and following nights. “ a few nights later i woke up and heard the the dejected kafir 127 footsteps round the foot of the bed. they passed on towards the door. i squeezed mildred’s arm and she squeezed mine, for the footsteps had awakened her too. i sprang out of bed and turned on the electric light, but there was absolutely nothing to be seen, and the door was still barricaded. "‘ at the end of the second month mildred and i left, being very glad to get away from the house. my brother stayed on there with a man friend, but they were also very glad to get out of it when the three months were up, as they were constantly hearing strange noises. the kitchen stove was like a big square iron box, and sometimes at night the heavy iron rings on the top of it would rattle loudly, but when they went to look they could see nothing. they stuck it out, but were thankful to leave and to get into a house that was not haunted. “ about two years later i read in one of the south african papers that some children had been scared in the neighbourhood of the house—in fact, in the next street—by the apparition of a native.” the ghost that grinned a conansronnmrr, whom i know well, has sent me the following: “ this is what happened to me about seven years ago. a great friend of ours, living here with her husband and blind mother, was lying very ill of pneumonia. i used to go every morning to read 128 the white ghost book to the blind mother and express my sympathy. one morning there was special need for quiet ; no strangers were to be admitted, or bells rung; even doors were not to be shut, but left ajar, so that servants could come in and see to the fires quietly. “ i was reading to the mother when suddenly the door was jerked widely open—it had been ajar— and a most horrible-looking woman stood there. she had a red face, and a tall black hat with the black crape veil thrown back, and her features wore the most diabolical grin you can imagine. she conveyed to me her rejoicing at a calamity, and sniggered as if to say, ‘ there’s plenty of trouble now coming here—more even than you imagine.’ “ i stared blankly but did not speak, because of the blind lady. then the creature departed, closing the door with a loud bang. the mother sprang up instantly, crying out, ‘ oh, who is it ? who could have done that to wake an invalid ? ’ “ i went to the door, looked out, but saw nobody, and told the poor lady that it must have been the wind or one of the servants’ carelessness. anyhow, i managed to pacify her, and when i said good-bye before going home to lunch, i questioned the three servants closely as to who could have come upstairs and banged the door so loudly. in each. instance the reply was practically the same: ‘ why, madam, you know that we have the strictest orders to allow no one up the stairs, except yourself, your daughter, and mrs. h. s. ! ’ so the affair remained a mystery. ‘ “ that very friday afternoon, in january, the blind mother was taken seriously ill, and though the severed head reproduced from a sketch of the ghostly head that was seen in a certain london theatre (see page 134) the ghost that grinned 129 she did not die till the following june, she was never really well again. the daughter never rallied, and passed away the monday following that horrible appearance. it was a great grief to us all, and, of course, the shock helped to kill the mother, who was absolutely devoted to this, her only child. “ the husband has since married again; and now a new wife and baby reign supreme in that onceso-sad house. “ one curious thing in connection with my old friend happened about six weeks before her fatal illness. i was at tea there, and my friend-—-the blind lady’s daughter—was standing beside the piano. suddenly i noticed she was enveloped in a radiant halo of light, transforming her mere prettiness into absolute beauty. little thinking of any sequel, i did not hesitate to speak of this momentary transformation. my friend seemed delighted, and the mother, calling me to her, kissed me, saying, ‘ thank you, dear, for telling me. i liked hearing of it.’ “ wasn’t that strange ? ” the severed head the following story was told at the time by mr. walter herries pollock, the well-known author and critic, and former editor of the saturday review, and i am indebted to his kindness in allowing me to reproduce it here. ‘ apropos of the story, g.mr. pollock writes to me : j 130 the white ghost book “ it is the only instance i know of two people, without any collusion, seeing exactly the same strange appearance in the same way.” “ this ghost has certain advantages. it is not the cut and dried ghost familiar to fiction, and especially in old-fashioned christmas numbers. i am able to repeat it at first hand, and i have an independent and impeccable witness to do the same kind office for it. “ and then it had the privilege—a privilege surely granted to few ghosts in a theatrical audience —of dividing the attention of at least two devoted playgoers between itself and a great actor in the front of whose theatre it made its first appearance. “ was it its first appearance? or its last, or its first and last, or is it there every night and never visible twice running to the same person or persons ? this last would be good ghostly behaviour, and it is certain that my friend and i have only seen it once, though, not unnaturally, we have been on the look out for it since that once. “ this is how it was seen. one night i went with a very intimate friend to a certain london theatre,* where we had booked a box. we were to have been a party of four or five, and we had the second box from the stage on the o.p. side of the second tier. “ as it happened, only my friend and myself * for obvious reasons, it ls necessary to withhold the name of the theatre, but i will gladly give further information on the subject to readers who may be interested.—-j. a. m. the severed head 131 turned up, and we sat at opposite corners of the box—-—a fact which is by no means unimportant with regard to the ghost’s appearance. the play was one in which both of us were always deeply interested, but on this particular night there was something that distracted my attention from the play—something off the stage that i could not help looking at. “this something was in the audience part of the house, and when it first caught my eye i could not help starting, so singular, so vivid, and so terrifying in its nature was the illusion, which i thought would vanish as soon as i could make up my mind to take my eyes off it. “ this i accordingly did. i looked closely at the stage for some minute or so and then looked back at the place where i had seen it, fully expecting that my vision would light either on an empty space or in some convolution of a dress or a cloak, which had assumed the fantastic shape i had seen. not at all; there it was, as vivid, as real, as startling as before. strangely enough, considering what it was there was nothing revolting or horrible about it; but it was tremendously impressive, and it held the attention chained. “ while i was gazing and wondering, the curtain fell and the lights in front went up; and, with the vanishing of the semi-darkness, it vanished also. half a second before its complete disappearance i glanced round unintentionally at my companion, and saw that he, too, was gazing in the direction where i had seen it. “had he seen it, too ? 132 the white ghost book “ our eyes met, and i saw inihis the same doubt and wonder that he had, no doubt, discerned in mine. then, during the interval, ensued between us a conversation in which each, feeling nearly certain that the other had shared his strange experience, tried hard to get the other to confess first to his belief in the incredible sight which, it so happened, we both had witnessed. “as thus: “ ‘ see anybody you know in the stalls?’ “ ‘ yes; mrs. --—, young -——, and one or two others. did you?’ “ ‘ yes. very hot and oppressive in the theatre to-night, isn’t it ? ’ “ ‘ it is, rather.’ “ then there was a silence, in which we eyed each other suspiciously, and then again our eyes met, just as each of us was on the point of examin~ ing closely with an opera glass the spot where the amazing appearance had been seen. then we both spoke, almost simultaneously, and the burden of the speech of both was: “ ‘ what did you see in the third row* ?’ “ then said one: ‘ what stall were you looking at t ’ “ and the other replied: ‘ at the fifth. so were you.’ “ at this the first speaker nodded, and then the curtain went up, the lights in front went down, and there, just as before, was the strange presence. * subsequent reconstruction and redecoration have been responsible for many changes in the auditorium ot the theatre, and the ghost, i believe, has not been seen since. the severed head 133 “ this time there was no attempt on the part of either of us to hide the weird fascination which the thing had. when again the curtain fell and the lights went up, the vision immediately vanished. we both gave a little sigh of relief from the tension of watching and wondering. then we compared notes. “ ‘ what did you see ? ’ “ ‘ tell me first what you saw. what i saw is so strange ! ’ “ ‘ very well. it is no use beating about the bush. i feel morally certain that we have seen the same thing. the lady in the fifth stall of the third row is holding a dead man’s head, cut off at the neck, on her lap.’ “ ‘ precisely so,’ said my companion, and seldom have commonplace words had a more incongruous significance. “ ‘ somehow it is not shocking,’ i replied. “ ‘not the least, but it’s awful in the old sense of the word.’ “ ‘ yes; it is, of course, some arrangement of the dress or the cloak.’ “ ‘ so one would think; but how, then, should both of us, from different angles of vision, and without any kind of collusion, have seen the folds take the same shape, and that so very strange a shape ? ’ “ ‘ true. remark, also, that the lady has moved slightly, and the slightest movement should be enough to————— ah! she has moved again. we shall see no more of the ghost. by the by, you said just now we had seen the same shape. that is not yet 134 the white ghost book certain. draw me an outline of the head ; there is a pencflf “ my friend took the pencil and drew exactly the same outline—a fine profile with a vandyke beard+ that i had seen, and that i can see in.my mind’s eye now. “ ‘ this,’ i observed, ‘is strange indeed. but, as i said, the lady has moved twice, and we shall see no more of the ghost.’ “ the curtain rose for the last act, the lights in front went down again, and as they sank the dead man’s head cut off at the neck reappeared again as vivid as ever and in exactly its old position on the lap of the lady in the fifth stall of the third row. nor did it seem to waver or change in the slightest degree, until, the curtain falling for the last time, the lady rose, readjusted her cloak and vvent out of the theatre. “ that is the story, so far as it has gone as yet, of the ghost at the theatre. whether there is ‘ more to come’ remains to be seen. so far i have set down the facts and the conversation within a few words, exactly as they occurred. i was talking of the matter only this morning to my friend, and, oddly enough, neither of us can in the least recall the features of the lady. but here are the features of the ghost, in case anybody should recognise them and have an explanation of the mystery of the fifth stall in the third row.” [see illustration facing page 128.] a story of st. james’s square the following story was related to me by mrs. charles mossop, of peterborough road, harrow-onthe-hill, who has kindly given me permission to use her name and address and vouches for its authenticity. the events related in it happened to a friend of hers, an officer of high rank in the army, and whose name is well known to me and to the public in general. here is the story: a young cadet of nineteen, having completed his course at the royal military academy and been appointed to the royal engineers, was spending a few days in london before joining. one night he made up his mind to go to some place of amusement, and putting on his dress-clothes, called a hansom—it was before the days of taxis—and drove to a music-hall in the west end. during the evening an elderly gentleman, of extremely aristocratic appearance, entered into conversation with him and took considerable interest in his account of himself and his hopes and ambitions. the boy frankly told the stranger that he wanted “ to see a little life ” before he went abroad, and the latter offered to be his cicerone for the night and introduce him to places to which he could not otherwise hope to be admitted. . delighted at the prospect, and fascinated by the older man’s charm and conversation, the boy gratefully accepted the invitation; and they left the 135 136 the white ghost book ' empire together and went off to supper at one of the best restaurants. after supper—at which the boy drank only lemon squash—they went to several gambling-dens and night clubs, at some of which it was necessary to give a password, and everywhere the man was received and treated with the utmost deference. they did not actually join in any ofthe doings at the places they visited, but, both being particularly refined and fastidious, preferred to play the part of lookers on. towards three o’clock in the morning the man asked the boy where he was staying, and hearing that it was in a direction that would not take him out of his way, suggested that they should walk together to st. james’s square, where the speaker lived. a it was a very fine night in summer, and the cool air, after the hot, vitiated atmosphere of the night clubs, was deliciously fresh. the two walked together in the direction of st. james’s square, and as they passed st. james’s church, piccadilly, the clocks struck three, and the elder man stopped to wind up his watch. they walked down a side street into st. james’s square, and at the door of one of the large houses in the square the stranger took out his latch-key and said good night, adding that he hoped the boy had had a pleasant evening. with profuse thanks for his kindness, the boy asked permission to call with his father next day, saying he was sure his father would like to thank him in person. permission was given and cards exchanged. the man then entered the house and the boy went home. story of st. james’s square 137 next day he told his father what had happened, and they arranged to call at the house in st. james’s square that afternoon. when they did so the door was opened by a butler, who seemed much distressed and surprised when they asked to see mr. . after some conversation the butler told them that his master had died at three-fifteen that morning, that he had been bedridden for four months previously, and unconscious for twelve hours before his death. the boy, being unable to believe the story, asked the butler to show him a photograph of his master, which he did, and the boy instantly recognised it. the owner of the house had been a man well known in society, and his funeral a few days later was attended by a large number of members of the fashionable world. nell gwynn’s ghost—and other mysterious visitors an old friend of mine, who lives in one of the several houses once inhabited by nell gwynn, has sent me the following 2 “ you know nell gwynn built this house and lived in it herself for a time,” she writes. “ about three years ago we had a very confidential elderly maid here called maria, and a new housemaid, lizzie—both since gone. “ one daymaria said to me, ‘ isn’t it odd, i38 the white ghost book ma’am ? lizzie says she has just seen, in her bedroom, such a lovely lady, all bright against the wall, with a low dress round her shoulders. she was so beautiful that when she looked at lizzie, lizzie was quite sorry when she faded away.’ “ the description of the low neck struck me. i remembered i had put away, in the box-room, a framed photograph of the hampton court palace painting of nell gwynn. i thought suddenly, ‘ perhaps nell gwynn doesn’t like being hidden away in the box-room,’ so i said to maria, ‘ do fetch that photograph and lay it down in the kitchen and say to lizzie, “isn’t that a pretty face?” directly maria did so, lizzie exclaimed, ‘ that is the lady i saw . . . yes, that’s her dress—just the same.’ “ so i think it undoubtedly must have been.” if i1 * * * mrs. drayson, a lady living at hanwell, is very psychic, and has told me some. really curious things that have happened to her. only the other day she was standing near the edge of a platform of some station, thinking hard, when suddenly she was aware of somebody walking towards her. she took no notice until the person got very close, and then she slowly looked from the feet upwards to be confronted by herself. she says she stared and blinked her eyes, and then she was gone-—-or, rather, the other part of her was. she said it made her feel very queer to look slowly up from the feet of another person and find her own face at the top i ll! o 1! # # mysterious visitors i39 when a girl of fifteen she was staying with some friends and sleeping alone. she woke suddenly with an odd sensation, and on looking up saw a woman in grey with long hair standing by her bed. at first she thought it was a maid in her dressing-gown, but suddenly she realised that she could see right through the woman. with a shriek she slid under the clothes and lay shivering with fright. when she looked again later the figure was gone. in the morning she told her hostess, who said: “ well, we knew there was a ghost, exactly as you describe, but we never knew before which room it was in!” ill 1! iii * * the following experience occurred to a friend who was living in a certain garrison town in kent. one morning she opened the staircase window to let in, as she thought, her own pet cat, but instead, in came a beautiful white one that made at once for the dining-room, where her husband was at breakfast. she was surprised, for she knew of’ no white cat in the neighbourhood; it made straight for her husband, and would notice no one else. “ this happened,” she tells me, “ nine mornings running. the cat always went for my husband, and somehow disappeared later in the morning. after those visits it was never seen again, nor could i ever discover anyone who owned it. very shortly afterwards my husband died most unexpectedly, and later on i was told that the servants had commented on this mysterious visit, saying they knew something would happen to their master.” 1 * =lr ill 1! 140 the white ghost book there is a house in one of the channel islands which is haunted by the figure of a lady. sometimes she walks through the rooms, and on one occasion so frightened a visitor who was staying there by appearing as she was going to bed that she fainted. on another occasion she opened a door, and a friend who was in the room distinctly felt her touch her arm. when the same friend was leaving there was violent knocking on the window of a room above; no one was in that part of the house at the time, and they only remarked it was the ghost. this was told to a catholic lady who had a prayer said for the ghosts in the island, and this particular one has not been seen since. the matrimonial ghost the story of _a strange honeymoon adventure has been given to me by a friend. she writes: “ a very few days after i was married we were honeymooning in scotland. my husband had some old friends ‘living in a wonderful old castle there, and we were asked to spend a short time with them. i was shown to my room—a weird, old-fashioned apartment, containing an enormous four-poster bed, and opposite the bed, in the left-hand corner, was a door at the top of a small flight of steps. “ ‘ you needn’t mind that door,’ said my hostess ; ‘it is all locked and barred and leads to nowhere.. it’s all empty behind there.’ the matrimonial ghost 141 “ all the same, that door rather gave me the creeps, and i said to my husband before dinner, ‘ for goodness’ sake, don’t leave me long alone up here ! ’ “ ‘ but i must go to the smoking-room with the other men,’ he reminded me, ‘ though i promise i will not stay longer than i can help.’ “ i had gone to bed, but the room was fully lighted still, when that door at the top of the steps opened, and down the steps walked a little old lady. she was a quaint little person, wearing an old-fashioned gown, and i could plainly hear the tap of her high red heels as her tiny feet tripped down the steps. “ terrified, i jumped up, flung on a wrapper, tore down the stairs and beat on the smoking-room door, screaming for my husband. when we got back to our room, there was nothing to be seen, but next morning my hostess apologised. ‘i am so sorry,’ she said, ‘ i put you in that room. you have seen our matrimonial ghost, as we call her. she always appears directly anyone here is engaged. but i thought you would be immune, being already married ——and so very recently. we always think she had a wretched married life herself, and tries to warn people against matrimony. both our two married daughters saw the ghost directly they became engaged, and, as regards our youngest daughter, we have cause for real gratitude. “ ‘ she was flirting with a very undesirable young man. one day she flew down to me, screaming that_ she had seen the ghost. .“ mary,” i in-, stantly said, “ you are engaged to that man! ” she then confessed she had becomezsecretly affianced 142 the white ghost book to him the day before. knowledge is power most certainly under these circumstances, and i am thankful to say we persuaded the misguided girl to give up her ill-chosen lover.’ ” ghostly footsteps a coanasronnmrr at weymouth has sent me some very interesting experiences, gathered from her own knowledge. she writes: “ some years ago i was staying in an old house in the north to which had been added a new wing, which was principally used by the family. i was given one of the large bedrooms, which at sunrise was flooded with sunshine. being a bad sleeper, and unable to bear much light in my room, i moved into a small room in the old part of the house which was reached by a connecting staircase, and, having endured several wakeful nights, when bedtime arrived i went off joyfully to my small den, thinking i was going to get a good night’s rest at last. “ but alas for my expectations! the room i chose was the first on a corridor with an oak staircase at my end of it, and no sooner had i settled off to sleep than i was aroused by footsteps coming slowly up this, with the clear tap of high-heeled shoes. “ i knew there could be no one moving about at that hour, so roused myself to listen. the footsteps came nearer, and then i also heard distinctly ghostly footsteps i43 the frou-frou of silk draperies. to my alarm they turned into my corridor and slowly passed my door ; then, after walking to the end, began to return. i regret to say i was too much alarmed to wait for more, but called loudly to the occupant of the room opposite—the cook—who came across. unfortunately, she was deaf, so had heard nothing, but i would not remain longer in that part of the house. accompanied by her, therefore, i returned to the other wing, where i spent the remainder of the night undisturbed. , “ a day or two afterwards my own maid arrived, and knowing her to be a strong, sensible young person, not at all given to imagination, i put her in this room, in order to test the truth of my experience, of which, of course, she knew nothing. “ the next day when she came into my room with my morning tea, she told me of her experiences, which were the same as my own, and she refused to sleep there again. i made many inquiries, but no one seemed able to tell me anything, except that the house had been vacant for many years, and that the former occupant, who built the new wing on to it and had greatly improved it, remained only a short while.” * ill * * ill “ once, when i had occasion to go up to london for a few days with my nurse and little boy, i stayed in rooms at no great distance from kensington gardens. “ one night i was awakened by footsteps coming along the passage outside, followed by the sound 144 the white ghost book of a chain being dragged along. i was very frightened, and knowing i was alone on that landing and that the door between the sitting-room and bedroom was unlocked, i listened in dread, hoping the footsteps would go upstairs, but to my horror i heard the sitting-room door slowly pushed open, and, whatever it was, entered, dragging the chain after. slowly it walked round the table, and just as i expected to hear the communicating door open, i heard it sink into a basket chair which was placed against it. “how long it remained there i don’t know, but at last there was a movement as of slowly rising, and to my intense relief i heard the footsteps reach the door, followed by the dragging sound of a chain, go slowly through it and retrace its way along the passage. “i don’t know what this could have been, but it was not an animal of any description, and the footsteps were human. of course, when i interviewed the landlady the next day she declared it was impossible; no one was in the house but her husband and self. however, i was quite sure of what had occurred, so did not prolong my stay.” the ghost of egmont castle attached to a certain french castle is the story of a famous and well authenticated ghost. it runs as follows: m. patris, a soldier of gaston d’orleans, went to ghost of egrnont castle i45 stay at the castle of egmont. when the dinnerhour arrived he left his apartment to go to the dining-room, but stopped on the way at the room of a friend, one of monsieur’s officers, wishing him to keep him company. as the officer did not appear he knocked at his door and called out to him to ask whether he was not ready for dinner. patris thought it impossible for him to be in his room, and as the key was in the door, he went in. his friend was sitting at the table looking terribly agitated. he hurried up to him and asked what was the matter. the oflicer, coming to himself, said, “ you would be feeling quite as astonished as i am if you had seen the book which is on that table there move, and the leaves apparently turning by themselves without my seeing any human agency.” the book was girolamo cardan’s work, “ de subtz'litate.” “ nonsense,” said m. patris. “ you imagined what you saw, or you must be dreaming. you probably became so absorbed in what you were reading that you got up, put the book in the place where it is now, and then came and sat down again, and, not finding the book, thought it had moved by itself.” “ what i have told you is perfectly true,” said the ofiicer; “ and as a proof that it was not a mere hallucination, the ghost in the case opened that door and went out, shutting it after him.” patris went to the door and, opening it, found it led to a long gallery, at the end of which was a large wooden chair, so solid and heavy that two k 146 the white ghost book men would be required to lift -it. suddenly he saw‘ this solid chair raise itself and move out of its position towards him, apparently supported on air. then patris cried out: “ oh, evil one, apart from god’s will, i am your servant ! ” at his words the chair went back to the place where it had stood originally. patris was much impressed by this incident. the rector’s ghost ar a rectory in the midlands an apparition in the guise of a former clergyman visits the house on a certain night every year. the family who lived there were cognisant of this appearance, and always arranged to be absent from home on that night. however, one year the rector’s wife was seriously ill, with a trained hospital nurse in attendance, and as the date of the yearly visitation approached it became evident that the patient would not be in a fit state to leave home. it was decided, however, that the family and the rector and all the servants save one should spend the night elsewhere, and that the hospital nurse should be told nothing of the expected apparition, nor had she any idea that there was anything abnormal about the house. she slept in the same room as her patient, and was aroused about 11 p.m. by someone knocking and opening the door; and she saw, in the dim light of a night-light, a clergyman dressed in cassock, surplice, and stole, walk into the room. the rector’s ghost 147 although feeling a certain sense of fear, she soon realised that what she saw was an apparition and not a human being, and was able to control herself, and so watch events. the clergyman immediately proceeded to open a cupboard made in a recess in the wall, and after vainly searching therein proceeded to open the various other wardrobes, chest of drawers, etc., which the room contained. finally he returned to the wall cupboard for a further search. he then left the room, closing the door behind him. whether he continued the search in other parts of the house is not known. he is supposed to be looking for a bundle of documents, and he visits his old rectory every year, on the anniversary of the night he died, to search. the room occupied by the patient was once his own. the ghost in tavistock place surgeon-major anrumn leslie, one of the surgeons sent out by the british government during the cholera epidemic in egypt, who was killed at the battle of el teb, wrote the following account of an extraordinary experience he had in london, and he sent the letter, which he signed with his name, to the daily telegraph (autumn 1881) : r “ in the latter part of the autumn of 1878, between half-past three and four in the morning, i was leisurely walking home from the house of a sick friend. a middle-aged woman, apparently a 148 the white ghost book nurse, was slowly following, going in the same direction. we crossed tavistock square together, and emerged simultaneously into tavistock place. “ the streets and squares were deserted, the morning bright and calm, my health excellent, nor did i suffer from anxiety or fatigue. “ a man suddenly appeared, striding up tavistock place, coming towards me in a direction opposite to mine. when first seen he was standing exactly in front of my own door (in tavistock place). young and ghastly pale, he was dressed in evening clothes, evidently made by a foreign tailor. tall and slim, he walked with long, measured strides, noiselessly. a tall white hat, covered thickly with black crape, and an eyeglass completed the costume of this strange form. “ the moonbeams falling on the corpse-like features revealed a face well known to me—that of a friend and relative. the sole and only person in the street beyond myself and this strange being was the woman already alluded to. she stopped abruptly, as if spellbound; then, rushing towards the man, she gazed intently and with horror unmistakable on his face, which was now turned to the heavens and smiling horribly. “ she indulged in her strange contemplation but during very few seconds, then with extraordinary and unexpected speed, for her height and age, she ran away with a terrific shriek and yell. this woman never have i seen or heard of since, and but for her presence i could have explained the incident: called it, say, subjection of the mental powers to the domination of physical reflex action, ghost in tavistock place 149 and the man’s presence could have been termed a false impression on the retina. “ a week after this event, news of this very friend’s death reached me. it occurred on the morning in question. from the family i learned that, according to the rites of the greek church and the custom of the country he resided in, he was buried in his evening clothes, made abroad by a foreign tailor, and, strange to say, he wore goloshes over his boots. . . . “ when in england, he lived in tavistock place and occupied my rooms during my absence.” ’. three strange stories foorsrmrs on the srams—the orange gnu.gravediggers a well-known composer—i regret i am not allowed to mention his name—has given me the following true stories: “ when at cambridge i had rooms not far from the market place. i shared them with a friend. he had a bedroom on the third floor. once, when he was very ill, i sat up with him. between two and three in the morning i heard a bell tolling. it was a deep-toned bell, and i did not recognise the tone. “ my friend, who had been asleep, woke up and asked what bell it was. it tolled for about twenty minutes, and then stopped. i opened the window, but could not hear it outside. it sounded as if it were inside the house. each night that i sat up with him, through his recovery, i heard it, and so 150 the white ‘ ghost book did he. i learnt afterwards that the house was built on the site of an old monastery. “ in the same house i used to hear footsteps at night, and one evening, having been talking about them to a friend, we agreed to sit up and listen. at the same hour as the bell, between two and three in the morning, there were distinct sounds of someone walking upstairs. the footsteps came right up to my door—the third floor—which had three steps leading to it, and then there were two knocks at the door, which we at once opened. there was nothing there, and no sound. we sat up the second night and left the door open, sitting in the dark. the same thing happened, but without the knock at the door. i have never heard an explanation of this. 1 m w 1=r “ the man i sat up with at cambridge told me a story of a friend of his—a barrister—who took some rooms in, i think, clement’s inn. he used to sit up late at night reading. “ the first night he was there he noticed late at night a strong smell of oranges, which he could not explain. he noticed it particularly in his sittingroom. the next morning there was no smell there, but in the evening he noticed the smell again, which seemed to get stronger until about eleven-thirty, and then diminish. he got quite accustomed to this. one evening, after he had been in the rooms for about a month, he fell asleep in his chair, and waking up was astonished to see a little girl, rather poorly dressed, sitting at his table eating an orange. the smell was very strong. the orange girl 151 “ he jumped up and asked her what she was doing there. as he got up the figure disappeared. on making inquiries, he learnt that some time previously a little girl had been found strangled in the room, which had been empty. she had never been identified. she was poorly dressed, and answered in every way the description of the figure he had seen. when the body was found, tightly clutched in its hand was a portion of a half-eaten orange. as soon as possible after that my friend changed his rooms. 4: =a= as =|= * “ a clergyman who worked with my father in new zealand told me that he once took a wooden shanty in new zealand—a one-floor affair with a passage up the centre, and a door at each end and rooms on each side of the passage. he heard many very odd sounds while he stayed there, one of which was constantly repeated, and he never heard any explanation of it. it was as follows: “ early after sunset he would hear a sound as if several persons were dragging something heavy up to one of the doors. the door would apparently be opened, and several people would walk along the passage dragging something with them. frequently he went into the passage while this was going on, and though the sounds seemed quite close to him, he saw nothing. “ the ‘ something ’ which was being dragged along would apparently be left, and the footsteps went out at the other door, and for some fifteen minutes or longer he distinctly heard, just outside / 152 the white ghost book the room which he used as a study, the sound of pick and shovel, apparently digging a hole. “ the footsteps would then return to the house, and dragging out the ‘ something ’ to the hole, would drop it in. he always heard the thud, followed by the sound of the earth being filled in. he heard this so many times that he became quite accustomed to it. he never learnt any explanation of it.” the old lady ln black the following story was told me by miss winifred hall, of cuckoo, hanwell, w., who has no objection to my using her name in re-telling it here: “ one bright frosty night, about a quarter to seven, when i was going home from london, i arrived at the station and set out to walk to my sister’s house in the village. the house has a lamp before it, and beyond it is a long narrow lane. there was not a soul about, but just as i came in sight of the lane i saw someone coming towards me, and naturally thought it was one of the parishioners; but as the figure drew nearer i realised to my horror that there were no footsteps. “ the roads were as hard as iron and my own steps rang out with a clang; but the silent figure, that of a little old lady in old-fashioned dress, came straight towards me and walked close past me without the slightest sound. i looked at her, but when she reached the lamp i had passed, she disappeared. old lady in black i53 “ of course, it might have been an old lady with felt slippers on, i thought, but, whoever she was, she was most uncanny. 3' “ i was very frightened and told my sister about it, and she said at once, ‘ ask the rector about her; your description tallies exactly with that of a ghost which has been seen by the rector and his wife, and his sister-in-law, as well as by many of the villagers. i did not write to you about it because i meant to tell you.’ “ next day i went to see the rector and his wife —old friends of ours—and heard the ghost story. the little old lady haunted the village, and particularly the rectory, which is just close to my sister’s house. one day, when the rector’s wife was potting ferns in the greenhouse, she looked up and saw the ghost calmly watching her. on another occasion, when the rector was writing his sermon on saturday afternoon he saw a shadow at the window, and there was the little old lady looking in. thinking she was one of his parishioners trying to find the way in (this was the first time he had seen her), he got up immediately and opened the door, but there was nobody in sight. the laurel bushes were low and nobody could have hidden in the garden. “ another time the door knocker went loudly, but there was nobody at the door. “ a resident in the village, who has certain occult powers, has since laid the ghost of the little old lady. he found she had beendrowned in the river in a former century. what means he took to lay the ghost i do not know, but he undertook to do it, and he did it most effectually.” 154 the white ghost book two yorkshire stories the murdered groom-—the banker’s foorsrsrs these incidents were communicated to me by a lady living in yorkshire: “ in the early part of the last century a man was murdered in an upper room over some old stables in a field near my home in yorkshire. these buildings, which were sadly in need of repair, were seldom used except in case of emergency, as, for instance, for the horses of visitors who had driven over from a distance and were staying at least a night. “ however, a certain groom named jack simmons liked to sleep over the stables in the lonely paddock. he preferred doing this to living with the other men at the house, probably because he was above his position and was fond of reading. “ one morning simmons asked his master for a f0rtnight’s holiday, and on obtaining it went away, but at the end of the fortnight he did not return. his master, however, managed without him for another month, and then his place had to be filled. “ the new man was told that if he preferred he too could use the two rooms over the paddock stables. however, when the rooms were visited the outer door was found to be locked, and on breaking it open jack simmons’ murdered body was discovered. “ at the inquest three or four people swore that they had seen simmons in the distance quite lately go in at the paddock gates and about his work as usual. the murdered groom 155 “ at the time when he was supposed to be away, and always the hour given was somewhere between eight and eight-thirty, one man said he saw jack and hastened after him, as he wished to speak to him; but when he got to the corner gate the groom was nowhere to be seen. when asked by the coroner why he did not follow simmons up the paddock to the stables, he replied that unless he had raced across the field he could not possibly have caught him up, and besides, he had felt a ‘creepy sensation ’ all over him the last three times when the groom passed. asked how he was sure of his man he replied, ‘ i should know him among a hundred.’ “ since that time the house in question has been said to be haunted by a ghost, which always walked in november. “ one night in the early part of the winter some little time before christmas, and about eight o’clock in the evening, i was going to visit a relative and had to pass the house, round which was a very deep plantation. although the leaves were off the trees they were so thickly planted that, even when it was a bright moonlight night, the corner where one turned to go up the hill was perfectly dark; and there was a high wall on the other side. i was walking quickly when i saw a man wearing a felt hat not far in front of me. i felt surprised at the moment, as there was a thick hedge on each side of the road, but i thought that as i was hurrying i had caught him up. “ as he seemed to be a stranger in the neighbourhood, i thought i would walk slowly and let him go up the hill, and i would wait until he came 156 the white ghost book into the bright moonlight again at the top and see what he was like. when i got part of the way up i was surprised that he did not arrive at the top, so i waited a while. still he did not come into the moonlight. i thought, ‘ i can’t wait here all night,’ and went on. “ when i got to the top and passed the gate there was no man to be seen. just then a friend of ours who was returning from the wednesday evening service at the church came up and said, ‘who are you looking for?’ so i told him all about it. he said, ‘ why, you must have seen jack simmons’ ghost!’ he told me the story of the ghost, and added that his father was at the inquest, and was one of the men who had said he would not swear to it, but he felt sure he had seen the man within the last month. no doubt, my friend said, his father had seen the ghost of jack. “ although from my childhood i had always heard that the hill was haunted, i should not have given the matter a second thought had i not met my friend, for the figure was so absolutely real and unghostlike.” ill ii ll ii! ii! “ many years ago in a town in yorkshire there was trouble at a certain bank, for several thousand pounds were missing. i do not remember the circumstances of the case, but one of the partners—an old man between sixty and seventy, who was in every way trustworthy—felt that in some way people were fighting shy of him, so he askeda friend if he had noticed it. said the friend, ‘ as you ask me, the banker’s footsteps 157 perhaps i ought to tell you that it is whispered that you are the culprit.’ “ this very much upset the banker, and for days he had evidently brooded over the matter. his housekeeper’s account was that for three nights he walked up and down his bedroom all night long and greatly disturbed her. every time he turned in pacing up and down, he stamped his heel down hard on the carpet, and at one end of the room he went beyond the carpet on to the boards, when his heel sounded louder. “ one morning he sent a groom with a note to the bank stating that as it was the anniversary of his wife’s death, he would not go to the bank that day. the housekeeper said he did not eat anything the whole day, but paced first his library, in the daytime, then his bedroom at night, stamping his heel louder than ever at the turns. suddenly the noise ceased, and he seemed to be walking about, then a chair seemed to fall over with a thud, and all was still and she got some sleep. “ in the morning, after waiting some time for his bell, the housekeeper knocked at his door but got no answer, so she thought she would not disturb him for a while. she went again, knocked, and then tried the door; it was locked, so she went to the groom and sent him over to the vicarage which was close by. the master’s bedroom door was burst open—or the window, i do not remember which—and the poor man was found hanging from the post of a four-post bedstead, the chair having evidently been kicked away from under him. “ after all the affairs at the bank had been care158 the white ghost book fully gone through, everything was found to be all right and sound, but from that time the business gradually went down, and the bank had to close its doors a very few years later. “ every year on december 28th (i think that was the date, but am not sure), at 10 p.m., the walking of the banker’s ghost begins, with the stamp of the heel on the carpet, then a louder one on the boards. for two years the housekeeper remained on in the house and heard the pacing up and down from about 10 p.m. until after 3 a.m., when all was quiet. after that no one would sleep there on december 28th. the house is still standing. i have been in the room myself. “ i have heard that several of the poor man’s friends (there were about fifteen in the party) determined to sit up one night to test the matter, and that only three could sit it out; the others had to leave in terror, as they could not bear to hear the knocking from above. the house had a bad name and could not be let for many years.” the haunted house in the suburbs mas. hunter, the red house, laleham, near staines, has kindly given me the following experience : “ a good many years ago, before i was married, our house, in the suburbs of london, was damaged by a slight landslip, and we had to turn out suddenly. it was december 23rd, and we had about six people a haunted suburban house 159 staying with us in addition to ourselves, so it was rather a task to find a furnished house big enough to hold us all at a moment’s notice at that time of year. my father and mother went round to every agent in the neighbourhood, and at last found one not far off. we were a large party of boys and girls, cousins and ‘ pals,’ all very young and in tearing spirits, and certainly not morbid or likely to look for ghosts. this is to me a great point. “ we settled in, but that wretched house got on all our nerves, servants included, before we had been there a fortnight. i can’t exactly explain the feeling, but it just depressed and took all the gaiety out of us. we snapped and quarrelled and were bored— all things utterly foreign to any of our natures. the experience i personally had was this : “ i had a slight cold and stayed at home one afternoon in the library—a small room to the right as you came into the hall. it was the only room that had a cheerful paper, most of the other rooms being papered in drab, with brown patterns on them; this had gay red roses on a white ground. i was sitting before the fire, tea had just been brought to me (a tea i liked), my cold was nearly gone, and i was reading an amusing novel, and felt particularly cheery and cosy. “ suddenly i thought someone had come into the room; i turned, but no one was there. i could have sworn someone came in, and then i became aware (i can‘ only put it in this way) that something incredibly evil was beside me. i truly froze with fright. i thought with horror, ‘ it’s going to jump on me l ’ 160 the white ghost book “ i could see nothing, but the perspiration poured off my face. i had a mighty struggle against paralysing fear, then i got up and tore out of the room. when i reached the hall all fear left me, and i felt quite safe. i knew how i should be chaffed, so i told no one; but a week later my cousin, who shared my room, dashed in while i was dressing for dinner. she was sick with terror and had had the same experience, and my sisters’ governess some days later also had this visitor, while she was looking over the lesson books in that room. we had none of us heard the house was haunted, but a story has been told us since that throws light upon it. “ a local doctor, a friend of ours, was called in some time later to attend the daughter of a lady of title, who had taken the house for a time. afterwards, when he came to see us, he laughingly alluded to the ‘hallucinations of illness,’ and told us, as a proof of it, that the lady he had been attending had declared the house was haunted, but that he had told her he knew some people who had lived in the house (ourselves) and had never seen anything at all. “ we then told him our experience, and he laughed no longer. “ you may certainly mention my name, but i don’t want you to locate or name the house, as it is still inhabited, i believe, and it might do the owner harm.” l‘ ", \l‘\ s-=\ i‘~ . . . . , r‘‘ ‘v. ‘ -‘ ‘‘‘ ‘ ii i' i 1’/zotos: g. /1 ncell, sandozun, isle of ii'z'.z_''/2! knighton gorges showing the old gateway and the site of the ‘ phantom house ” as vicwed from the rookcry (see page 163) 6 the phantom house the strange sronv or knighton gorges the following strange experiences were given me by miss ethel c. hargrove, f.r.g.s., author of “ silhouettes of sweden,” “ the charm of copenhagen,” etc. etc. : “ knighton is derived from the celtic neithan, the place of a fight. the mere word itself suggests a train of thought; and knighton gorges has witnessed many conflicts, bodily, mental, and spiritual. “ the authentic history of the estate dates from the reign of henry iii., when it was held by john de morville, who founded the north chantry, or transept, at newchurch church, afterwards to become the burial-place of the dyllington family. the de morvilles came from cumberland; and, after the death of john, ralph de gorges, husband of ellen de morville, daughter of john, enjoyed the manor in her right and built a chapel there in the year 1301. “ their son left an only child, eleanor, who married the celebrated sir theobalde russel. in 1340, after successfully repulsing a french invading force at saint helen’s point, bembridge, sir theobalde was severely wounded, and his retainers carried him from the battlefield to knighton gorges, where shortly afterwards he passed over to the spirit world. “ the manor remained in the hands of his descendants until the reign of queen elizabeth, when one george gilberte, of whitcombe, sold it, with other property, to antony dyllington, of poole, in dorsetshire. his family continued to flourish there till l ‘ 161 162 the white ghost book early georgian days, when sir tristram, the last male representative of his race, had the misfortune to lose his beloved wife and four children within a few days. the cause of this tragedy was some bad type of fever, and the shock turned sir '1‘ristram’s brain, causing him to drown himself in a little pond hard by the mansion. “ the faithful butler concealed the cause of his master’s death, thus retaining the estate * for the two miss dyllingtons, sisters of the ill-fated baronet. “ the survivor of the two sisters bequeathed it to general maurice bocland. in 1765 it passed on to another family, the bissets. “ george maurice bisset, a man of intellect and culture, kept open house, and the notorious john wilkes wrote in his diary, ‘ knighton manor supplies me very kindly with melons and other fruit.’ wilkes then lived at sandown, and it was his custom to attend shanklin church on sunday mornings, and then, after meeting david garrick and his wife, to walk with them over the fields to dine at knighton gorges. “ the house, an ancient ivy-covered building in the gothic style, contained many fine apartments, and was situate on the edge of a hill. a wayside road at the rear led direct to some antique earthworks attributed to the danes, but probably of much later date. in the early years of last century it was demolished stone by stone to verify an oath sworn by an irate uncle that his nephew, the next on the entail, should never enter his dwelling. mr. bisset died just as the workmen had completed their extraordinary task. * had suicide been proved the estate would have escheated to the crown. the phantom house 163 “ now only the original gateposts, a few stones, and an arbour used as a potting shed in the walled garden remain. probably david garrick, wilkes, and other georgian wits drank wine and told anecdotes to their genial host on the grass plot that then existed in front of the arbour. “ since then six skeletons have been discovered within two feet of the surface of the vegetable beds. they were reverently re-interred. # * * ir * “ apart from the interesting recollections connected with knighton gorges, deeper and more psychic associations cling to the deserted spot which is best viewed from the rookery overlooking the walled garden and what was once an avenue of stately trees. now some of these trees have fallen, and their dismantled trunks are half covered with rank fungi of different species, but the scent of the limes still pervades the atmosphere on summer evenings and the wind sings softly in the leafy recesses of an enormous fig tree. “ but it was a cold, still night when, in company with a sister and three villagers, i walked the mile from newchurch on new year’s eve, 1913-14, to experience from ten minutes to twelve and onward a marvellous aural manifestation of a lady singing soprano, then a duet with a baritone, and part songs to the music of a spinet or harpsichord. lastly came some very dainty and refined minuet airs. “ one summer evening later i was walking on the road that passes the old gateposts, between the hours of seven and eight, earnestly engrossed in 164 the white ghost book conversation with a friend, when my attention was suddenly arrested by a very loud noise, apparently made by children playing with wire railings. we could not ascertain the cause, but as there were several schoolboys about we passed on and thought no more of the circumstance. “ it never would have occurred to me to give the matter another thought but for this coincidence. a few days later, on monday, july 6th, i was sitting on the fallen trunks shortly before 8 p.m. the thought of hearing again the mysterious music was strong within me, but i was destined to hear music of a different kind. again it delighted my ears, but this time it was the voices of a church choir. i listened with great joy till i was disturbed by conflicting elements—the self-same noise i had attributed to the schoolboys, knocking the wire railings. this time it was simply deafening. ‘ children playing again,’ i reasoned, but it had in it an afiinity to the clashing of swords. “ ‘ do be quiet,’ i shouted, for the sacred music was hardly distinguishable in such a din. “ finding my remonstrance had no effect, i rose to my feet and approached the spot from whence the tumult proceeded—the corner of the walled garden. when i arrived there it ceased, but neither boys nor railings could be seen. * * * * * “ ‘ neithan,’ the place of a fight. surely in days of yore a mortal conflict must have taken place there, and even now the forces of good and evil appear to war against each other. “ not every day is a manifestation vouchsafed. the phantom house 165 i have often wandered on the rugged hillside without hearing anything beyond the music of birds singing, or the hurried flight of numerous rabbits, or perchance the advent of a round-eyed owl. every spring primroses and yellow gorse strive to restore the long-lost splendour of the scene, but the atmosphere of ‘ never more ’ permeates the deserted shrine of old world life. “ i have been fortunate enough to establish a link of 150 years with the place in the person of an aged farm labourer who told me that nearly seventy years ago, when he was a boy, he knew an old man who said his grandfather used to work for the dyllingtons in the kitchen, boiling potatoes for the pigs, and, he added, ‘ then the tongs would move across the room by themselves.’ “ the same individual also mentioned a rumour that a fortune composed of gold coins was buried in the grounds of the estate. “ knighton always had the reputation of being haunted, and the story runs that a brading priest was once engaged to exorcise the demons. “ charles i. visited the then owners of the gorges. sir john oglander, who wrote his memoirs in that reign, quotes, ‘ they had a park thereon ye weste side of ye house,’ and ‘ they had theyre chappel and there manie of them were buried and had fayre monuments ; ye chappel is now turned into a brew-house and ye church yarde into an orchard.’ the latter fact accounts for the finding of the six skeletons in the walled garden, and a barn at a neighbouring farm is still reported to be the remains of a mediaeval chapel. “ thus years roll on, kingdoms rise and fall, new discoveries made and old faiths questioned, yet the 166 the white ghost book eternal never changes, and events are chronicled to be stored in the gramophone of nature. what has been remains; actions repeat themselves ; melody is stored in waves of ether; god’s music of the spheres— lingering and wandering on as loth to die, like thoughts whose very sweetness yield proof that they were born for immortality. ill ill =0! # ill “ two years later, new year’s eve, 1915—16, i determined to revisit knighton with a friend who had never been there before. we walked from newchurch with a view of arriving in good time for any manifestations vouchsafed. “ while walking, i heard the sounds of distant music intermingled with the bleatings of the sheep, but i did not at the time make any remark on the subject. “ the night was fine and starlit, and the wind played gently through the bare branches of the trees. there were no lights in the cottages, and even at 9 p.m. the world seemed asleep. “ as we approached knighton lights were reflected from behind our shoulders, so vivid that we could plainly see our own shadows in dark relief, and i had the sensation that people were following us, but whenever i looked behind the dim gloom was unbroken except for the twinkling of the stars, and there was not a soul in sight. “ we settled ourselves at the old gates to await the trend of events, but a vague feeling of discomfort, and that i was sitting in someone’s way, obsessed me, so we decided to move to another gate across the phantom house 167 the road leading into a broad expanse of field, merging into the long range of downs. “ the field was studded with lights, apparently reflected from the windows of a house, and my friend observed she had a strong impression that we were there just in time to witness the advent of some late arrivals; she could hear the deep baying of house dogs and the shriller yap of a king charles or a blenheim spaniel. “ as the door opened to admit the guests, my friend plainly saw a square white house with ivy covering the lower part, leaded diamond panes to the windows, and heard all the sounds of welcoming and greeting—a confused murmur of voices. next a flute and violin could be distinctly heard. then came silence; and a man’s form could be plainly seen standing near a bow window with a tall stemmed glass with a flat bowl raised as if for a toast. “ he was dressed in eighteenth-century costume —black small-clothes, frilled shirt, white silk stockings, his dark hair plainly tied back with a black ribbon. there was evidently cheering and clapping of hands (i heard the two later); then a burst of music, and this time the drum could be plainly distinguished. “ from then up to twenty to twelve there were no sounds except an occasional burst of music, and fainter moving lights spread over a large area. and, still more, reflected on the opposite side of the road, one could plainly see the posts and even the twigs of the bare hawthorns in the hedges. “ i walked up and down the road a little way to\keep warm, and when i rejoined my friend twice 168 the white ghost book i turned towards the wrong opening, misled by the powerful light. “ at twenty to twelve, when we were standing in the road opposite the phantom house, a full tenor voice lustily gave forth ‘ god rest you, merrie gentlemen,’ and the chorus was joined in by the whole party. “ the lights of the house were soon so dim that one could see nothing, though, curiously enough, the reflections on the far side remained as vivid. we heard nothing more except two weird sounds which my friend thought the hoot of a motor—i took them to be the call for a belated carriage. “ evidently the revels were at an end, and we lost no time in taking our departure, for we had a lonely walk of five miles across country to sandown. it was worth it, we declared, although we did not reach our destination until after 2 a.m.” a diary of hauntings in another of my books i have re-told the famous ghost story of willington mill,* a house standing between newcastle and north shields, occupied, at the time the extraordinary happenings took place, by mr. joseph procter, a much respected member of the society of friends. since i wrote the account i have been enabled to read mr. procter’s own account of the hauntings, and have obtained permission to publish it here. mr. procter kept a * vide " another grey ghost book " (p. 257). a diary of haugntings 169 careful record of the hauntings, day by day, and his diary is, i think, of very considerable interest. * * * * * particulars relating to some unaccountable noises heard in the house of j. and e. procter, willington mill, which commenced about three months prior to the present time—viz. 1st mo. 28th, 1835, still continuing, and for which no adequate natural cause has hitherto been disc0vered.* about six weeks ago the nursemaid first told her mistress of the state of dread and alarm she was kept in, in consequence of noises she had heard for about two months, occurring more particularly nearly every evening when left alone to watch the child to sleep in the nursery—a room on the second floor. she declared she distinctly heard a dull, heavy tread on the boarded floor of the unoccupied room above, commonly pacing backwards and forwards, and on coming over the window, giving the floor such a shake as to cause the window of the nursery to rattle violently in its frame. this disturbance generally lasted ten minutes at a time, and though she did not heed it at first, yet she was now persuaded it was supernatural, and it quite upset her. the latter was, indeed, evident from the agitation she manifested. the kitchen girl said that ~the nursemaid had called her upstairs sometimes, when frightened in this manner, and had found her trem"' mr. pr0cter’s method of dating his extracts requires, perhaps, a word of explanation. “ seventh day, 1st mo. 30th," for example, means “ saturday, january 30th.” .170 the white ghost book bling much and very pale. on examining her further in reference to this improbable tale, she did not vary in her statement, but as nothing had been heard by the kitchen girl when called up, annie affirming that the noise ceased when she or her master or mistress entered the room, and on searching the empty room on the third storey there was nothing existing to cause such results, but little credit was attached to the story. before many days had elapsed, however, every member of the family had witnessed precisely what the girl described. and from that time to the present nearly every day, and sometimes several times in the day, the same has been heard by one or more of the inmates, varying unimportantly in the nature of the sound. a few particular instances may here be selected in which imagination or fear could have no influence, and afterwards a few causes which might very naturally be thought likely to produce the noises will be shown to be inapplicable, leaving the matter still enveloped in mystery. on the sixth day, 1st mo. 23rd, 1835, e. procter requested one of the servants in the forenoon to sweep out the disturbed room in the course of the day, and, being herself in the nursery after dinner, heard a noise in the room like a person stirring about, which she took for granted was the servant cleaning out the room, when, to her surprise, she came upstairs shortly after from the kitchen where the other girl was, and neither of them had been at all upstairs. the next day one of the girls, being in the nursery, supposed the other girl was lighting the fire in the room above, as had been desired, from the noises a diary of hauntings 171 she heard, which proved a similar mistake to that on the preceding day. it may also be remarked that the nursemaid first mentioned had left, and a respectable young woman came to assist till the term, from whom the affair was carefully concealed. a day or two after her arrival she had occasion to enter the nursery, where the other girl was when the noise was making, which she was prevented from observing by her fellow-servant talking and using the rocking-chair. later, however, the same evening, when she was present, it commenced suddenly, and she, somewhat alarmed, inquired who or what was in the room above. on the first day, the 25th, being detained at home by indisposition, e. procter was in the nursery about eleven o’clock in the forenoon and heard on the floor above, about the centre of the room, a step as of a man with a strong shoe or boot going towards the window, and returning, and though the noise was louder than before, the window did not shake. the same day when e. and j. procter were at dinner, the servant, being with the child in the nursery, heard the same heavy tread (apparently like strong shoes) for about five minutes. she came into the sitting-room to satisfy herself that‘ her master was there, thinking it must have been he who was upstairs. the following day the dull sound was resumed, and up to this day the boots have not done duty again. it may be noted that frequently the room has been examined immediately after the occurrence of the noise. it has been satin, in one instance’ slept in all night, and in every case nothing has been 172 the white ghost book elicited. several of our friends who have waited to hear the invisible disturber have all, with one exception, been disappointed. j. r. procter remained in the room below after the usual period of operation, fruitlessly, but within ten minutes of his departure the nurse was so terrified by the loudness of its onset that she ran downstairs with the child half asleep in her arms. m. unthank stayed two nights whilst the servants were both favoured with a rattle before she was up in the morning, and e. procter heard it once gently when alone in the room. all the persons who have heard it (and six have been so far privileged) are confident that the noise is within the room on the third floor, as the precise part of the floor upon which the impression is made is clearly distinguishable through the ceiling below, and the weight apparently laid on, shaking violently the window in the room below, when no other window in the house is affected, and during a dead calm is, of itself, a proof of this. it is impossible there can be any trick in the case. there is a garret above and the roof is inaccessible from without. the house stands alone, and during most of the time the window was built up with lath and plaster, whilst the only other communication with the outside by the chimney was closed by a fireboard, which was so covered over with soot as to prove that not a pebble or a mouse had passed. the room is devoid of furniture, and for a few days the door was nailed up. not a rat has been seen in the house for years, 01‘ at any time anything heard like a scratch or queak or running between the floor and ceiling; 5 a diary of hauntings 173 nor is it conceived that a hundred rats could shake the floor by their weight, or cause the window below to rattle. the noise has been heard at every hour of the day, though oftenest in the evening; in the night, rarely. has no connection with weather nor with the going of the mill. in short, it is difficult to imagine a natural cause having a shadow of pretension to belief. those who deem all intrusion from the world of spirits impossible in the present constitution of things will feel assured that a natural solution of the difficulty will be obtained on further investigation, whilst those who believe with the poet that “ millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen,” and that even in modern times, amid a thousand creations of fancy, fear, fraud, or superstition, there still remain some well-attested instances in which good or evil spirits have manifested their presence by sensible tokens, will probably think this may be referred to the latter class, especially when they learn that several circumstances tending to corroborate such a view are withheld from this narrative. additional particulars relating to unaccountable noises, etc., heard at willington mill containing the most remarkable from 1st mo. 25th to the present time, 2nd mo. 18th, 1835. seventh day, 1st mo. 30th. the walking in clamped shoes or boots was again heard by the kitchen girl in the nursery. on first day, night, the 81st, soon after retiring to bed and before going 174 the white ghost book to sleep, j . and e. procter heard ten or twelve obtuse deadened beats as of a mallet on a block of wood, apparently within two feet of the bed curtains on one side, by the crib in which the child was laid. the next night j. procter, before undressing for the night, had hushed the child asleep in his crib, and while leaning over it with one hand laid upon it, and listening to some indistinct sounds overhead which had just ceased, he heard a tap on the cradle leg as with a piece of steel, and distinctly felt the vibration of the wood in his hand from the blow. this might be a sudden crack not unfrequent when wood is drying in, but it sounded like a knock on the outside. since this time the walking in the empty room has not been heard oftener than twice or thrice, of which this afternoon was the last time. about four o’clock the kitchen girl was going i upstairs to dress, and calling for something in the nursery, heard the window rattling, and plainly heard “ fatty,” as the supposed old lady had been called, seemingly engaged in the pastime of a country dance. intimidated by the posthumous merriment, she hastened downstairs to arrange her toilet, the materials for which were brought down by the new nursemaid, hitherto an unbeliever in the supernatural. on the sixth day, 2nd mo. 13th, the servant heard in the village that the son of the engine-man, an apprentice with an elder brother, a grocer at sunderland, had twice, when spending the first day of the week with his parents who live in the mill yard, seen a figure in white which he took for a ghost in female form. she was struck with this, as answering i a diary of hauntings 175 to what she had herself seen a fortnight ago, which she had not mentioned to her mistress. these were the facts: having been up eai-ly,in the morning to wash, and going out of the front door to lay some things on the grass in the garden (it was about 4 a.m.), she saw what seemed to her a female figure in white glide rapidly past. she ran in and told her companion, a woman from the village, who laughed at her fear, and went out with her into the garden; but nothing was to be seen. on inquiry of the youth’s father, the story was found correct. between the first and second time of his fancying he had seen an apparition there had some weeks elapsed. he knew nothing the first time, nor did his parents, of the disturbances in the house. i could not learn that any other person had seen anything particular ; had any mischievous person been personating a ghost, it is somewhat singular there should have been no more attempts to frighten. on the same evening, 2nd mo. 13th, j. procter heard that t. mann, the foreman of the mill, a man of strict integrity, who has been two years in the employment of unthank and procter, had heard something remarkable, and on being questioned made the following statement: it may be premised that unthank and procter have a wooden cistern on iron wheels or “ rollies ” to bring water for their horses ; it stands in the mill yard on the side where the engine coals are laid. when in motion, drawn by a horse to be filled, it makes a very peculiar noise, which may be heard a considerable distance-as loud as the wagon, especially when the wheels want 176 the ‘white ghost book greasing, and by any person accustomed to it the noise of its going could not be mistaken for that of any other vehicle. the mill was going all,night on the 26th or 27th of first month, and t. mann’s place was to mind the engine till two o’clock in the morning. going out to fill the barrow with coals, about one o’clock, he heard this machine, as he thought, going along the yard, which did not at the moment strike him as being out of the usual course; but suddenly, remembering the hour, the apprehension that it was being stolen flashed on his mind. it was creaking excessively from want of oil, and was then drawing near the yard gates towards which he accordingly went, when to his astonishment he found it had never stirred from its place! all outside the yard was still; not a creature was to be found. afterwards he searched round the premises with a lanthorn, but descried nothing. he was much puzzled, but it was not till the next day that he felt himself compelled to attribute the phenomenon to a supernatural cause. he had not mentioned it to any in the house lest his mistress should be alarmed by this in conjunction with the other disturbances. i more than once, a considerable time ago, j. procter has heard a sound like someone stepping down the gravel walk, on his coming through the garden at night, and has not been able to discover anyone. for two years before, the servant on going out to bolt the garden gate shrieked out, and running in, said she heard a step close to her, but could see nothing. a diary of hauntings 177 on first day 2nd mo. 15th, j. and e. procter were informed by their cousins (the unthanks) that they understood the house, and particularly that room in which the noises.now occurred, was said to be “ haunted” before they entered it in the year 1806, but nothing they knew of had been heard during their occupancy of twenty-five years. we are furnished on the best authority with the following particulars of a recent apparition in the same house attested by four credible witnesses. for about two months before this occurrence there had rarely been twenty-four hours without indications by noises, etc., not in any other way accountable, of the presence of the ghostly visitant to some or all of the inmates. a few days before, a respectable neighbour had seen a transparent white female figure in a window in the second storey of the house. on the 13th of last month (november), early in the evening, two of the children in the house, one aged about eight years, the other under two, unknown to each other saw an object which could not be real, and which went into the room where the apparition was afterwards seen, and disappeared there. a near connection of the family on a visit, but for whom for obvious reasons a lodging was obtained at the house of t. m. (many years foreman in the manufactory near the house, and a man much respected by his employers), went out as usual about half-past nine p.m. soon after going to her bedroom with a daughter of t. m.’s (a servant at the 'house), and t. m.’s wife going out of the house for some coals, the latter was struck by seeing a figure m 178 the white ghost book in the window before referred to. she called t. m., who saw it passing backwards and forwards and then standing still in the window. it was very luminous—as the brightest star—and likewise transparent, and had the appearance of a priest in a white surplice. t. m. then called out the relative of the family and his daughter. when they came out the head was nearly gone and the brightness somewhat abated, but it was fully ten minutes before it quite disappeared by gradually fading downwards—assuming, as it grew dimmer, a bluish tinge. both when standing and walking it was about three feet from the floor of the room. t. m. went close under the window, and also would have informed the inmates of the circumstance, but finding they had locked up, did not then accomplish it. ' i willington, 5th mo. 17th, 1841. since the latter end of the 12th month, 1840, we have been entirely free from those very singular disturbances which have been occurring with some intermission for about fourteen months before, and as we now appear to be threatened with a renewal of them, i here make some memoranda of the circumstances. our servants for some time have shown no symptoms of timidity, and seemed to have no apprehension of former visitations. e. procter has not been well lately, and has thought she observed something in the demeanours of the servants indicative of fear within a day or two past. on being questioned this afternoon, they said the ghost had a diary of hauntings 179 come back, but they wished to keep it from their mistress, as she was poorly. on 6th evening 14th, jane davison, who came this term, was alone in the camp-room when she heard a heavy foot pass over the floor above, and-as she knew none of the family were there, she ran hastily downstairs and told mary young. they did not tell bessy mann, who was in the back kitchen. she went up into the same room about ten minutes after and came running down in a fright, saying there was a heavy step in the room above. (it would be nearly five months since‘ she had heard anything before.) this evening, about nine o’clock, e. mann was hushing to sleep the youngest child in the camproom. she rang the bell, and one of the other servants went to her out of the kitchen, and found her pale and agitated. she said she had just heard a treading as in heavy shoes on the boards of the room above. on the night of the 17th, about half-past eleven o’clock, j. and e. procter heard one of the servants shrieking in the next room and presently, after one of them knocking through the wall for help, j. procter went to them and found j. davies in a state of great agitation from fright; her fellow-servant feared she was in a fit when she knocked for j. procter. ' the three servants slept together in one bed for protection, the baby in a crib alongside. they had only just got into bed when the figure of an individual wrapped up in white was seen by jane davies—at the foot of the bed! it was the height 180 the white ghost book of a woman, and was looking towards the window. the arms were not distinguishable. jane davies had got first into bed, and e. mann and she were both much frightened before that by hearing a rustling as of a person coming through the door (which was shut) and moving about in the room. on that occasion they saw nothing and a light was burning all the time. when e. mann got into bed she put her head down under the clothes, and m. young was looking to the side where edmund lay in his crib. it was at that moment that davies looked up and saw the figure. when j. procter entered, there was nothing to see or hear, nor was there afterwards during the night. jane davies was far from well the next day, and the others much intimidated. about the 21st davies was awake at midnight and heard a moan as of one in agony, but not very loud, under her bed. soon after she heard a flapping in the room as of some article of apparel shaken forcibly. on the 22nd, all the servants were alarmed by the many noises they heard in the evening upstairs —sometimes on the landing close by, and at other times overhead. a door was clashed, there were blows like those produced by a mallet and dull thumps overhead, noises in their bedroom, particularly a rubbing or scratching of the paper nearly all round it. on the 23rd, j. and e. procter heard noises in the room over theirs which suddenly came down into their own room. then steps were heard on the stairs, and a tap at the door. nothing then had been heard by the servants. a diary of hauntings 181 on the 24th, about seven in the evening, the younger children were put to bed. just after it, davies called m. young’s attention to a noise in j. procter’s bedroom, like a “ skeel of peas ” emptying on the floor. they both went and heard it continue under the bed. turning frightened, they went downstairs, but curiosity took them again as far as the landing to listen. the room door being wide open, the side of the bed being opposite to it, the blind of the opposite window, against which the sun was then shining, being down, they perceived the shadow of a person move on the curtain from the bottom to the head of the bed, seemingly walking on the bed. no train was passing at the time, nor was there anything discoverable to produce such a phenomenon. j. and e. procter and the other servant were all downstairs at the time. various noises were afterwards heard, and in the night too, both by j. and e. procter and the two elder servants. another night soon after, davies heard her curtain rustle, and at one time felt considerable pressure on her feet, as though someone were sitting on them as she lay in bed. on the 29th, about nine p.1n., davies and e. mann were washing their feet in the nursery when they heard a noise in the closet as of someone moving crockery ware, and making much noise; then a rustling as of a silk dress came out into the room and something hit the back of the chair in which davies was sitting. they both ran downstairs in their bare feet. about the same hour one evening, joseph had been a short time in bed when j. procter heard him call, and as he was going upstairs heard 182 the white ghost book a rustle as of a female running out of joseph’s room into the nursery. joseph said his name had been called several times from near the foot of his bed in a voice like his own. at night j. and e. procter heard a drumming and tapping (lasting for a considerable time) in the garret. this was repeated at intervals ; and another night about this time j. procter heard a thumping in the garret which seemed to descend into the room below and from thence, with a heavy fall into the next room, where it awoke the youngest child, from which it seemed to bounce into the room below on the ground floor. 5th mo. 31st, davies and e. mann were in the nursery a little before nine o’clock, in the twilight. davies called e. mann to look at a particular white object which she took for paper, whirling round in a singular manner, about a foot above the ground, on the road below the window. it soon changed its appearance to that of a cow’s head with horns and large black eyes; then it assumed a heart-like form. after that it turned to a greyhound’s head, then a cat’s head with well-defined eyes and ears, feet and claws beneath, which were in constant motion. when in the latter form it looked earnestly up at them, and moving quickly along the road, vanished altogether. they were both extremely diverted at the time, and came running downstairs to tell their fellow-servant and j. and e. procter. they both saw every assumed form exactly the same, except that e. mann once saw it take the form of a human face which the other (e. davies) did not notice. the metamorphoses were, indeed, a diary of hauntings 183 .. i .. 3-‘-7: very rapid, as it was only in sight some three or four minutes. they did not get to sleep the following night till nearly two o’clock, as there were almost constant noises to be heard—a walking in bare feet at the foot of their bed, on the landing and running up and downstairs. the youngest child was several times roused by the noises. 6th mo. 1st. about half-past two o’clock in the afternoon mary young was alone in the kitchen, e. procter and the two nurses upstairs. m. young saw a stranger, as she supposed, go past the kitchen door on the way upstairs. she was surprised at this, as she had heard no one come in, and the front door was closed. she therefore went hurriedly to the door, before there was time for the female figure she had seen to reach the first landing, but nobody was to be seen. she immediately went into the room above the kitchen where e. procter was, but e. procter had heard no one come up, though the door of the room was open. she turned pale (and very naturally), becoming sensible that she had seen an apparition. the nursery door was shut, and the two servants within were playing with the children. according to young’s description the figure was rather tall, it wore a light-coloured dress and a lavender shawl. m. young had observed the shadow of someone in the passage immediately before the figure passed by, apparently bending the body to ascend the stairs. 7th day 11th mo. 13th, 184,4.-, about half-past four p.m., joseph, now eight years old, was in the nursery with the three elder children. he had 184 the white ghost book seated himself on the top of a rather high chest of drawers, and was making a pretended speech to the others, when he suddenly jumped down. j . procter, in his wife’s room at the time, heard him say that there had been a monkey pulling his leg by the shoe strap, and had gone from under the drawers into the opposite room, and under the bed there. he said that as he was sitting with his feet over the edge of the drawers, he saw on a sudden a monkey’s head looking up at him, with its fore-feet hanging on by the edge. it withdrew one of them and gave a very smart pull at the strap of his shoe, and then tickled his foot. he did not suppose any other but that it was a real monkey. edmund, who is under two years of age, was frightened a short while before by what he called “a funny cat,” and showed a good deal of timidity all the evening, looking under chairs, etc., lest (it would appear) it should be lurking there. it should also be remarked that he has no fear of a cat. where joseph saw the monkey—at the end of the drawers—was not in view of the other children. when joseph went to bed, too, he heard a strange noise in the chimney almost as soon as he was left to himself, and presently something squeaked in his ear, and starting up, his ear and the side of his face went against something very soft and hot. he was afraid, but did not call out, though the clothes were pulled off his chest, and when he tried to pull them back, they appeared to be held a little. then followed the sound of an animal jumping off the bed on to the floor, and by the light carried by someone passing the door, he saw the monkey (?) again on the a diary of hauntings 185 top of the wardrobe. he called out and got the servant to search the room thoroughly, but there was nothing to be found. he tells us, too, that he hears the sound of somebody walking in the room almost every night after being left. the same evening e. procter’s sister, christiana carr, went home to her accustomed lodging at halfpast nine o’clock. (then follows the before-mentioned story of the luminous figure in the window.) m. young and e. mann,'being upstairs in the third storey, heard a clattering in the garrets, which made them come downstairs, but e. mann, looking back, saw the hind part of a figure in white on the garret stairs. nurse collard was in j. procter’s room with jane and c. carr. whilst they had their backs turned, an animal, all white, like a cat but larger, ran from the side of the bed. there is no such cat in the village, and it may be recollected that the same appearance of an animal was formerly seen in the window of the same room, from the outside, when the door was shut; and on its being searched nothing of the kind was found. last year also a white cat was seen in the garden by one of e. p.’s sisters, the head of which resembled a pig’s. on first day, night, eleventh mo., 14th, thomas davison, schoolmaster, having heard of the appearances in the house, went along the road by the back. it was about half-past eight o’clock. he soon saw a white cat close to him, and followed it to the conduit, into the gut, about twelve or fifteen yards off, where it disappeared. he went back to the same place behind the house, and presently perceived a white animal close to him, which looked like a 186 the white ghost book rabbit. he followed it and it leaped away as rabbits do, till it vanished down the same conduit. going back to his place behind the house, he saw a larger white animal approach from j. procter’s backyard gate, an animal which had a back as broad as a lamb or goat, and it went in at the mill gates. feeling now rather alarmed, not knowing what animal might come next, he went home. he is fully persuaded that what he saw were no real animals. 11th month, 28th day. j. procter went into the engine-room about seven p.m., and on coming out saw what he took to be a grey cat by the fire, which went out just before him, crouching along close by the side of the boiler-house wall. j. procter saw it apparently enter the wall about the middle, which surprised him, as he did not know of any aperture there, and examining it, found none. the moon was nearly full, but not shining on the wall. about the beginning of the seventh month the visits of the spirit again became more frequent. a young woman of the name of flamworth, of leeds, connected with the society of friends, became an inmate with the family for about two weeks. she, with the servants, heard the sound of stepping overhead and various noises which speedily convinced her of the kind of agency that was at work. as j. procter went into the mill yard at twilight, he saw something about the size of a man’s hand, of a light colour, which darted about in a zigzag course before him, a few inches from the ground. he kept his eyes fixed on it as he followed it, but it disappeared. there was no wind at the time. ‘a a diary of hauntings 187 7th mo. 9th. mary young heard in the night a heavy breathing as of a person under great oppression, but in the morning thought she might have been dreaming, till davies asked her if she had heard the panting noise in the night as she had been much frightened by it. 7th month, 13th. e. mann awoke in the night and saw a bright light shining through her curtain and close to it, quite different and distinct from the light of the rushlight. presently the bed was hoisted up and down from underneath. she called out and awoke davies, who desired her to come into her bed, where she soon fell asleep. m. young and davies heard a hollow voice pronounce a sentence from the middle of the room, but failed to distinguish the words. j. procter was several times disturbed by knockings the same night. 7th month, 14th. j . and e. procter both heard the spirit in their own room overhead, making a noise as of hoisting with tackle or rolling, and like the noise produced by setting down a barrel on its end. also noises in the camp-room, where the servants heard a raking like a coal rake, and a scratching of the curtain or top of the bed. edmund, who is almost a year and a half old, awakened with every symptom of being frightened; he screamed violently, and was a very long time in closing his eyes again. he frequently awoke in a fright, and would not be put back in his crib—the sight of it recalling his emotions of terror. he became feverish, and so continued the whole of the following day, though perfectly well when he went to bed. the night before, about nine o’clock, joseph was 188 the white ghost book in the nursery with one servant who was looking out of the window. he saw the head and body of a man (which were black) dart out of the closet door and then back again. after that he looked in and could see nothing. he said nothing to his nurse, but she noticed he was frightened, and he got her to “ cover the sheet over his head ” and to lock the closet door in his bedroom. about four in the morning he requested j. procter to pull the clothes up over him, and he said he would tell his papain the morning by himself why he durst not look up. in the morning he told j . procter as above, and said he was afraid of seeing something again. the afternoon of the day on which joseph saw this, the three servants were together in a room on the third storey, and all of them heard the sound of someone walking in the empty room next to theirs, and once “it ” seemed to come close beside them in the room where they were, which occasioned them to go downstairs. 8th month, 3rd. since the last date there have been few nights in which some branch of the family has not heard our visitor. one night j. procter heard something hastily walk with a step like that of a child eight or ten years old, from the foot of the bed towards the side of the room, and come back seemingly towards the door in a run. then it gave two stamps with one foot, then there was a loud rustling as of a frock or nightgown. almost directly after, j. procter heard a noise in one of the adjoining rooms, and the stamp roused up e. procter out of her sleep. a diary of hauntings 189 about this time joseph said he heard, soon after being put to bed, a voice from underneath, which said, “ queer lad, joseph.” another time he heard, “ queer boy, joseph ” addressed to him from the chimney, and one night, soon after his nursemaid left, he saw a boy in a drab hat like his own, except that it wanted strings, and the boy much like himself, too, walk backwards and forwards between the window and wardrobe and touching the key of the latter every time. he was afraid, and did not speak. one day, when m. young was upstairs, she heard a noise like a bandbox falling on the floor at her feet. last night j. davies heard a voice, like her mistress’s, call “ bessy ” twice, the last time forcibly; then followed, very distinctly, the noise of a person running upstairs. davies was up in the third storey in the forenoon ‘lately, and heard a noise in the dark room, and then the sneck of the door sounded to be jerked backwards and forwards. she saw it in motion at the time she heard it. 8th month, 6th. on the night of the 3rd when the foregoing was written, about half-past ten o’clock, j. and e. procter heard a noise like a clotheshorse being thrown down in the kitchen. at that time all the servants were in the adjoining room preparing for bed. soon the noises became louder; it seemed as if some persons had broken into the house on the ground floor and were clashing the doors and throwing things about. j. procter .went to the servants’ room to ask if they had left all safe, and found them taking refuge on their bed with the curtains drawn round, though not undressed. they 19o the white ghost book were sure the doors and windows were fast, and had no doubt the noise was from the ghost. j. procter went downstairs with one of the servants and found all right. the noises now began on the third storey, and they (the servants) did not dare for a long while to go to bed. the same evening adam atkinson, who lives at the foot of the quay, had sent his boy with a barrow which he had borrowed from his son-in-law, t. jackson, at the mill. the boy, being teased by some rude boys, went back, and atkinson brought the barrow himself. as he was returning about half-past nine, being dusk, he saw (when about the mill door) a woman he did not know with a skeel under her arm. she was going down the footpath towards the pump. he followed and gained on her, and was near her when she suddenly disappeared by the pump. he looked all round it, and could neither see her nor hear anything. had it been a woman, there was no possible way of getting out of his sight and hearing. on the night of the 4th, davies heard considerable noise at m. young’s bedside, and particularly heard the crib shifted, after which there was a heavy step backwards and forwards in the room. she durst not look up to see what it was. in the morning the crib was found shifted from the position in which it had been placed, so also the bedclothes. 8th month, 6th to 12th. my brother-in-law, g. carr, was with us. one night he heard stepping and a loud rumble in the room above in the middle of the night. another night he heard someone on the landing after the servants had gone to bed, which a diary of hauntings 191 was likewise heard by j. and e. procter, who knew it could be no living person’s footfall, because it sounded like strong shoes on bare boards, and the whole of the landing is covered with carpet nailed on. the sound moved upstairs and was heard overhead. another night g. carr was at supper with j. and e. procter; he heard a noise of furniture forcibly set down in the room above. e. procter knew that all the servants were in the kitchen. on the 12th m. young’s elder sister called, and was in the front empty room on the third storey when she heard the sound of glasses struck against each other in the little room which opens into it. also the sound of a door-handle turning. she was in the nursery in the evening and heard the ghost walk the floor above with a heavy step, and then begin to descend the staircase. she came hastily down, and heard footsteps pursuing her closely. 8th month 25th. last evening j. procter being in the parlour and all the servants downstairs, he heard footsteps and a knock in the room above. a short time previously e. mann had come downstairs much frightened; she had been alone in the nursery, and jane, who had gone to bed a little while before, had been wanting something, and having attended to her wants e. mann heard j. procter’s voice distinctly in his bedroom, saying loudly, “ what dost thou want, jane?” e. mann went immediately to tell j. procter what she had been wanting, and found no one in the room or upstairs, which made her come down in a fright. :92 the white ghost book on the 26th of 10th month, 1841, about nine in the morning, joseph and henry were playing at the foot of the stairs; they both saw a white face looking over the stair rails leading to the garret. joseph called for his aunt, c. carr, to come and see it, but just as she was coming he saw it turn away. henry heard it give a great jump, but joseph, who was very dull of hearing, did not. they both agreed in the description of what they had seen. on the 1st day, evening, about eight o’clock, 12th month 19th day, 1841, e. procter and c. carr were in the nursery with the infant and heard a heavy step coming upstairs. c. carr at first thought it might be j. procter, but recollected that he had put on his slippers, and this step was as with heavy shoes. it seemed to pass into the adjoining room, in which were some of the children asleep. they soon heard sounds in that room as of something heavy falling, and by and by henry, about five years old, began to cry as if afraid. the only servant then at home came up to them from the kitchen, when she found that he could not speak for some time for sobbing. he said at last that something had spoken to him and had made noises with the chairs. about the middle of the 11th month, 1841, c. carr went with e. mann into a bedroom about ten p.m. they heard a heavy labouring breathing, first at the far side of the room and then very near them; at the same time the floor was in constant vibration. on the 24th of 11th month, joseph went to bed about eight o’clock and presently called of his father iiifiiiif . . _ _ cui w 11 .-"'" _ ‘‘ --n 1-i 1 -1-‘ ‘,l’-1,; , .. "#3 .g.. .‘ .i<'pi-‘12 reivp.:\*j a-.r;. 1*.a'!l‘3‘ ,."r. l-,-.,e .-..,,-. .,e from an old l‘r"z'nt the mystery of the red barn showing the exterior of the barn, and the hole from which the body of l\i.'1ri.'1 marten was recovered (see page 251) a diary of hauntings 193 i._ .---val --as ‘ : / ye-—. in some alarm. he said a man had just been in who went to the window, threw up the sash, and put it down again and fastened it, and then walked out. he had light or grey hair and wore a dark top coat; he had no hat. joseph distinctly saw him put up his hand inside of the blind. he was astonished j. procter had not seen him. within a few minutes joseph called out again. he had heard a step from the door to the closet at the far side of the room and something like a cloak falling. he durst not look up to see who it was. after e. proeter’s confinement, which took place on the 25th of 10th month, her mother, jane carr slept with her for a fortnight. one night, when e. procter was asleep, jane carr heard a noise like a continuous pelting of small substances which at first she took to be cinders from the fire. afterwards, as she sat up in bed with a light burning, she heard the sound of somebody going gently about the floor, the dress rustling as it passed from one part of the room to another. on or about the first of 11th month, e. procter was awake at night and heard the sound of an animal leaping down off the easy chair which stood near the bed; there was no noise of its getting up and running off, but a dead silence followed. 8th month 25th, 1841. about midnight joseph was awake a long time and saw two women dressing, and thought it was the servants getting up to wash, and called of davies, asking if they were getting up. mary answered him that it was far too soon. he was then ratherefrightened. n 194 the white ghost book on the night of the 28th, j. procter heard the sound of footsteps in the attic and afterwards of setting things down in the room above from halfpast eleven till twelve o’clock. a little while after he heard several prolonged peculiar whistles; these were heard by the nurse in another room. they seemed to her to proceed from the landing. she described the noise, not knowing that j. procter had heard it. joseph was shaken in his crib early the same night, but did not mind it so as to call for help, though he felt frightened. on the 26th no one slept in the third storey. about eleven o’clock jane carr and the nursemaid heard in the room above them the sound of some person in strong shoes walking to and fro; sometimes the visitant seemed to run backwards and forwards, moving chairs and clashing box-lids down, sometimes thumping as with a fist. the noise seemed to move on to the stairhead. about twelve o’clock jane carr felt the bed raised up under one side as if to turn her over, giving two lifts. about half-past twelve nurse pollard in another room on the same floor heard an indistinct noise which roused her as she was going to sleep. something then pressed against the high part of the curtain and came down on to her arm, which was weighed down with some force. in great terror she called out, “ lord, have mercy upon me,” but heard no more. the kitchen girl, who slept with her, was not roused. e. procter the same night heard knocks overhead, and about six in the morning supposed, from the sound, that the kitchen girl as usual was dressing a diary of hauntings 195 in the room above, not knowing that she was not in her own room. 2nd month 3rd. on nearly every day or night since the last date more or less has been heard which could not be referred to any other cause than the spirit. amongst them the following may be noted. joseph and henry having several times been disturbed in their crib, once declared that they had heard a loud shriek which seemed near the foot of their crib. on e. procter going up she found joseph trembling and in a state of perspiration from fright. henry had kicked joseph in starting at the sound. one evening j. procter heard a very peculiar moan or cry; j. and e. procter and jane carr also heard footsteps and noises which ceased on their running upstairs to prevent the children from being frightened. another time joseph said his bed moved, sometimes backwards and forwards; a voice by the foot of the bed said “ chuck” twice, and then made a noise like a child sucking. another time joseph heard something say “ that.” he is very inquisitive as to the origin of these noises, and says he never heard or felt anything like it at shields; it may be proper to mention that none of the children have any idea of the supernatural. jane, who sleeps in another room, also told her mamma that she felt the bed go up and down; also something go round under her bed; she had not heard of joseph or any of us having experienced the like. j. and e. procter about the 30th heard loud 196 the white ghost book thumps in the room above, also footsteps in the night, when they knew that no one was upstairs; the cook, for company, slept with the nurse on the second floor. j. procter one night heard a sound like the winding of a watch in the staircase. on the 2nd month lst, jane carr and e. p. heard in the nursery a sound like a heavy piece of wood jarring on the floor above. it was about six in the evening, when all the servants were down in the kitchen at tea. afterwards followed the faint sound of a clock being wound up in the staircase. 2nd month 2nd. about one o’clock in the day jane carr and e. procter were in e. procter’s room when they heard one of the nursemaids in the room above dressing. they heard her come downstairs, and immediately after they heard a stepping like hers with strong shoes in the room above. jane carr ascertained that no one was upstairs at the time. 2nd month 4th. about half-past four in the morning, jane carr, who had been poorly, was awake, so was her companion. they heard footsteps descending from the upper storey passing by their door, and going down into the kitchen. they thought it was the kitchen girl, and wondered at her being up so early. then they heard the sound of the kitchen door being opened, then of the kitchen window thrown up and the shutters opened, with more than usual noise. you may imagine their surprise when the kitchen girl came down later than usual, about seven o’clock, and called in for a light on her way down. a diary of hauntings 197 in the afternoon of the same day, j . d. carr came to the house and stayed all night; he slept alone in the second storey. soon after going to bed he heard noises in the room above, as of a piece of wood on a balance rapidly striking the floor at each end; afterwards many heavy beats as with a mallet, some very loud; also a noise like a person stamping his foot in a passion. he heard, too, a peculiar whistle, which he imitated so as exactly to resemble what j. procter had heard some time before. he also heard a noise on the stairs and landing, and for some time felt his bed vibrate very much; he put out his hand to feel the stock, and felt it shaking. suddenly it ceased. he was quite awake and collected, and though disposed for sleep did not slumber till about two o’clock. he said he would not live in the house for any money. the account he gave to jos. carr induced him to come over from carlisle next morning to see if he could assist with his advice under such disagreeable, dangerous disturbances. on the 2nd month 5th, between eleven and ' twelve o’clock at night, jane carr heard a thump on the landing near the room door, on which she awoke her companion and herself crept under the bedclothes. m. young heard the slot in the door slide back, the handle turn, and the door apparently open. a step then went towards the rushlight, and by the sound it would seem snuffed it. the light was transiently obscured as is usual when snuffing is performed. jane carr then felt it raise up the bedclothes over her twice; then mary young and jane carr both heard something rustle the i93 the white ghost book curtains going round the bed. on getting to m. young’s side she distinctly saw the shadow on the curtain ; on getting to the bedboard where jane lay, a loud thump, as with a fist, was heard on it. something was then felt to press on the counterpane on m. young’s side, when she heard the visitor go out apparently leaving the door open. in the morning they found the door still bolted as when they went to bed. in this occurrence jane carr heard and felt the disturbance, but from her being under the clothes could not likewise see as her companion did. . . . on the 19th 2nd month, jane procter, about four and a half years old, told her parents that some time before, when she was sleeping with her aunt jane and mary young, she once happened to be awake. mary was asleep, so was her aunt on the far side of the bed. she then saw by the washstand at the foot of the bed where the clothes were open, a queer-looking head, as she thought the head of an old woman. she saw her hands, and two fingers of each hand were extended touching each other. she wore something which came down the sides of. her face and passed across the lower part of it. she saw all this plainly, though it was rather dark in the room. she felt afraid, and putting her head under the clothes again fell asleep. joseph, six and a quarter years old, said he, too, had seen a woman when he slept _with aunt jane nearly three weeks before. (note.— jane told mary young in the morning about what she had seen; she did not tell her father and mother.) a diary of hauntings 199 joseph tells that as it was beginning to be light he saw a smart female standing on the bed over his aunt, and looking towards him. her hands were clasped. she wore a bonnet and light gloves, and seemed rather pleased than otherwise. he felt afraid, and put his head under the clothes, but did not go to sleep. soon after mary, the nurse, came for him. he described the figure he had seen as wearing a collar, and showed by his description that it was what we term scalloped or vandyked. he was at different times very closely questioned, and was very positive and never varied in his description of what he had witnessed. he also told that the visitor had light-coloured shoes on. he had never seen anything since, nothing in j. and e. procter’s room, where he usually slept, though he had heard noises and words spoken to him, and he had several times been shaken in his crib. on the 17th, about dusk, jane procter saw a head on the landing which frightened her very much; she ran back, and was afterwards taken down by the nurserymaid. joseph has been disturbed nearly every night lately. he says when there is nobody upstairs the voices are loud; if there is somebody there, they are lower. he is now afraid of going alone into his bedroom even in the daytime. the following are sounds and sentences which he tells us he has heard: “ come and get,” “ but never mind,” “ hush, bab,” “ no, i don’t wish thee to.” to-night (3rd 28th) he heard footsteps twice and felt a rap on his pillow. two of the servants were out at a temperance meeting, the other was 200 the white ghost book in the kitchen. e. procter, with the baby, heard footsteps, and on her ringing the bell m. young came up. e. procter also heard a voice, but could not distinguish what was said. m. young clearly heard “ many, many” rapidly pronounced in a peculiar tone of voice. (at this point mr. procter’s record of the mysterious happenings at willington mill ends abruptly. he appears to have made no further note or c0mment.— j. .4. m.) stories of haunted churches, etc. the haunted church at york have on several occasions come across instances of haunted churches and cathedrals, which is, perhaps, but natural, considering the part such buildings have played in scenes of murder, pillage, and romance. canterbury cathedral is haunted by the ghost of thomas £1 becket, whose shadowy form on one of the pillars of the crypt was distinctly seen a few years ago, and duly reported in the newspapers. york cathedral is also haunted by a ghost, who has been seen during evensong. miss agnes weston, for whose work for our brave, gallant sailors we all have such admiration, once gave me a story of a crusader whose ghostly footsteps she herself heard while practising the organ in gloucester cathedral. there is a most authentic ghost connected with holy trinity church, micklegate, york. it is so well known that the sunday school children, we are told, were quite familiar with the sight, and called the ghosts “,.the mother, nurse, and child.” people who have seen the ghosts from the gallery at the west end of the church have related their experiences. the east window was formerly stained glass, and the apparition was seen about half-way down, and looked as though it was thrown on a screen by a magic lantern or cinematograph camera. a figure dressed in white walked across the window from the north side. when she had reached 203 204 the white ghost book about half-way she turned round and waved her hand. two more figures entered, those of a nurse and a child. the lady in white, and the nurse bent over the child and appeared to be bemoaning its fate, wringing their hands and making violent gestures of despair. the lady in white went ofl again by the south side, taking the child with her and leaving the nurse in the middle of the window. the nurse then went back to the north side by the way she came, waving her hand as if saying farewell. in a few minutes the nurse came back again and seemed to await the mother and the child, who presently returned, and when they all met, the bemoaning and sighs of distress were repeated. they all three then retired by the north side of the window. the vision made its appearance during the singing of a hymn, and the louder the music the more frantic were the gestures of despair. an extraordinary part of the appearance was that when the ghosts appeared on trinity sunday they consisted of three figures, but on ordinary sundays the vision sometimes consisted of one figure only. being very anxious to ascertain more about the haunted window, i finally wrote to the rector of holy trinity, asking him if he could assist me in the matter. i received this very courteous letter in return: “ in reply to your inquiries concerning the holy trinity ghost, i can really give you little information beyond that which you will find in a book called ‘ yorkshire oddities and strange events,’ by baringgould. “ the facts are unusual in several ways. it was haunted church at york 205 only seen in daylight and in strong daylight. it could only be seen from the gallery of the church, and it was only seen in the years about 1875. it was only seen on the east window. the church has been restored since then, and the ghost disappeared at the first restoration, somewhere about 1885 to 1890. a chancel was added to the church then, and the old ghost window that had been the east window was, of course, taken out. some of the glass in the old window is still preserved in the church. the old tracery is set up in my garden. “ i scarcely like to tell you of possible explanations of the apparition. there is one that baringgould probably has not thought of. it is that the old rectory drawing-room, which looked out upon the garden behind the church, had french windows, and that when the wind blew the windows to and fro they cast reflections of light upon the window of the church, which could be seen from the gallery at the west end of the church.” i procured a copy of “ yorkshire oddities,” and refer my readers to it for a full account of the ghosts. the following letter, quoted by mr. baring-gould, appeared in the newcastle chronicle, may 6th, 1876, and other papers: “ on good friday last i went to holy trinity church, york, for morning service at eleven o’clock, and repaired with a friend to the gallery, being anxious to see a certain apparition which is said to haunt the place. “ the gallery is situated at the extreme west end of the building and faces the east window, from 206 the white ghost book which it is distant some fifty feet or so. it is said that in the aisle and body of the church nothing is ever seen. the gallery was full, but none seemed to have come there especially for the ghost, and, though many of them afterwards said they saw it, they were not in the least affected by the apparition, treating it as a matter of course to which they were well accustomed. “ i kept my eyes fixed upon the east window for nearly the whole of the hour and a half during which the service lasted, but was not favoured witha sight of the phenomenon; although others saw it cross the window and return, and my friend, who knows it well, called my attention to the fact at the moment, yet i could perceive nothing. “ i therefore left the place as unbelieving as ever, and supposed that either i was the victim of a hoax or that it required a great stretch of imagination to fancy that a passing shadow was the destined object. “ however, not liking to discredit the statements of many friends who were used to seeing it almost every sunday, i consented on easter day to go to the same place and pew. the seat i occupied was not an advantageous one, a large brass chandelier being between me and the lower panes of the window. “ in the middle of the service, my eyes, which had hardly once moved from the left or north side of the window, were attracted by a bright light formed like a female, robed and hooded, passing from north to south with a rapid gliding movement outside the church apparently at some distance. the window is gothic, and i fancy from twenty to twenty-five feet high by twelve to fifteen feet wide haunted church at york 207 ‘* ,___.t_ _.,. at the base. the panes through which the ghost shines are about five feet high and about half-way between the top andbottom. there are four divisions in the window, all of stained glass of no particular pattern, the outer on right and left being of lighter colour than the two centre panes, and at the edge of each runs a rim of plain, transparent white glass, about two inches wide and adjoining the stonework. “ through this rim, especially, could be seen what looked like a form, transparent, but yet thick (if such a term could be used) with light. it did not resemble linen, for instance, but was far brighter, and would no doubt have been dazzling to a mere observer. the robe was long and trailed. the figure was, of course, not visible when it had crossed the window and passed behind the wall. “ my friend whispered to me that it would return —must return; and at the end of five minutes or so the same figure glided back from right to left, having turned round while out of sight. “ about half an hour later it again passed across from north to south, and, having remained about ten seconds only, returned with what i believe to have been the figure of a young child, and stopped at the last pane but one, where both vanished. i did not see the child again, but a few seconds afterwards the woman reappeared, and completed the passage behind the last pane very rapidly. “ nothing more was seen during the service, and no other opportunity presented itself to me for making observation. during each time the chandelier prevented me from obtaining a complete view, but there 208 the white ghost book could be no doubt as to the shape, a certain amount of indistinctness being caused by the stained glass. “ on the reappearance for the last time i saw the head, which was that of the child, i believe, move up and down distinctly, as if nodding. the figure shone with dazzling brightness, and appeared to be at a considerable distance—-—say thirty yards or so— though at the same time as distinct as possible, considering the obstruction of coloured glass. each time the level upon which it glided was precisely the same, and afterwards, on carrying a straight line from the spot in the gallery.where i sat through the part of the glass where the feet of the figure shone, and continuing that line (in my mind’s eye with all the objects before me except the ghost, whose position i had taken good notice of), i found that, at about four feet from the ground it would traverse a thick holly tree, eight or nine feet high, and at two or three feet from the ground a low wall about four feet high, and would reach the ground itself in the middle of a gravel yard belonging to the back premises of the house called the vicarage at a distance of twelve or fifteen yards from the window. “ any person walking between the window and the holly tree would hardly be seen at all, much less be seen at the place which‘ the apparition occupies; and anyone on the further side of the tree would be almost if not quite invisible on account of the holly and other bushes and the dead wall. anyone about there at all can easily be seen from the many houses on all sides. “ if it were a shadow thrown upon the glass of the window it would, of course, be seen by those '. a remarkable ghost photograph taken at a farm-house near acton. the g-host of an old woman may be seen looking through the window (see page 4) haunted church at york 209 who sit in the body of the church as well as those in the gallery.” the writer goes on to say that the ghost is said to appear frequently on trinity sunday, and to bring the nurse and the child on the scene. he adds : “ it is said to have haunted the church for 150, 200, or, some authorities say, 300 years, and there are many pretty legends connected with it.” after giving a résumé of some of these, the writer concludes: “ whatever may have been the circumstance under which the ghost (if it is one, which it is hard to believe in these matter-of-fact days) commenced its peculiar promenade, i would recommend those who have the chance to go to holy trinity church, york, and see for themselves, though an audience of the apparition cannot always be assured. a ghost in broad daylight does no harm, frightens no one, and ought to interest everybody.--i am, etc., “ h. g. f. t.” the rector of holy trinity at that time replied to this letter in the york herald, utterly repudiating the idea of the ghost, but h. g. f. t. stuck to his guns, and wrote again, repeating what he had seen. legend declares that 300 years ago a party of soldiers attempted to sack the convent attached to the church. the abbess, a very brave and noble woman, met them on the threshold as they were entering and told them that they should only enter the convent over her dead body. she added that if they did so her spirit would haunt the church. o 210 the white ghost book ~i another story is to the effect that about 200 years ago a nurse and child died of the plague and were buried outside the city walls, while the child’s mother was buried in holy trinity churchyard. hence the scene of meeting and parting again enacted on the haunted window. the ghost in the church the following account of a curious experience has been sent me by a friend : i once attended a funeral service in our church. there was to be a procession of police, firemen, etc., to the cemetery, so i remained in the church alone after the first part of the service in order to avoid the crowd, as i did not wish to follow. i only went to please my husband, who commands the local brigade, as the dead man had been one of his firemen. “as i sat there quite alone, a man rose from a pew in the centre aisle; he was rather small, and had a short, black beard. he walked to the end of the pew, crossed the aisle, and, entering a pew exactly opposite, leant down as if searching for something under the seat. i watched to see him get up again, wondering what he was doing, but he did not reappear. i then had the curiosity to get up and walk to the pew. there was not a sign of him anywhere! it gave me such a turn, for i did not dream he was not real. just then the vestry door opened, and our curate—a:'great friend--came out. ghost in the church 211 “he, too, had remained to avoid the crowd. i hastened up to him and told him what i had seen. he said (interrupting me): ‘ had he a short, black beard, and was he a small man ? ’ i said, ‘ yes.’ ‘ well, then,’ the curate went on, ‘i’ve seen him too. the other day i came into the church alone, the far door opened, and a short man with a black beard came in with a pot hat on. i walked straight up to him, saying, “please remove your hat in church,” but when i spoke, he disappeared.’ “we then thoroughly looked round, but saw nothing. ’ ’ voices from the graves the friend who sent me the story of “ the ghost in the church ” has also given me the followinganother experience concerning a curate, who, in this case, died suddenly and tragically. she writes : “i will call him mr. percy. he seemed to take a great fancy to us, and came here very constantly, and also regularly on sunday afternoon. he confided very sad family troubles to me, and was generally very unhappy. he was anxious we should go down and look at the extraordinary quantity of coifins rotting and decaying in the vaults below the church, and asked us again and again to do so. at last we did, and we were all amazed at their disarray, all not arranged tidily, but some on end and some upside down. it was queer. i was reminded qf this the other day on reading a curious story 212 the white ghost book ~_ in one of your bo0ks.* i quite imagine it was caused by the action of the water, being so near the river, and sometimes the bank is flooded in winter. i am not suggesting anything supernatural there, but just mention it en pas-sant. ' “shortly after this mr. percy said: ‘i had such a horrible experience last night. i was walking on the path through the churchyard when i heard such dreadful noises, like voices calling to me from the graves, asking me to come.’ i asked him: ‘ what did you do ? ’ ‘i am ashamed to say,’ he replied. ‘i was so terrified i took to my heels and ran as hard as i could, but they seemed to call after me.’ “some days later we met at an afternoon party at my daughter’s house. mr. percy said: ‘ i particularly want to say good-bye to-day to mr. james (that is not his right name). will you come and be with me? he’s over there now. he was very disagreeable to me, you know, but i want to say good-bye now.’ i asked him: ‘why now? you are not leaving here for two months.’ mr. percy said in reply, ‘ never mind. i want to do it now, as i am quite convinced i shall never have another opportunity.’ i said, ‘ all right.’ i moved off with him, and we all three joined in amicable conversation, and i particularly observed mr. percy say goodbye to mr. james. four days after that mr. percy died suddenly. don’t you think that was queer ‘? “a short time after this i was sitting alone in church, and the vestry door opened and our present curate came in. no one else was in the church. * the barbados coflin story, which appeared under the title “ the haunted vault,” in “ another grey ghost book.” voices from the graves 213 but behind him, most distinctly, i saw mr. percy, looking as he always had looked, making even a queer little characteristic movement of his shoulder, and he impressed me with the idea that he wanted to say something. our present curate walked up to my pew; he looked very distressed, and said: ‘ i’ve just heard such sad news. mrs. ladram (not the right name) is dead (she was a mutual friend of ours)—died rather suddenly. i did not know she was ill.’ by this time mr. percy had disappeared. i always fancy he wanted to tell me that news and prompted the other man to do it.” the ghost at the wedding the following london ghost story—the story of the ghost which appeared to a bridegroom on his wedding-day in a well known church in the west end of london—was told by mr. george r. sims in the referee some time ago. “ the younger son of a baronet had deceived the daughter of a northumberland farmer. he had promised to marry her, and failed to fulfil his promise. one day the girl, accompanied by a female relative (her cousin, whom i will call mrs. h.), obtained an interview with her betrayer and asked him if he intended to keep his promise. there were reasons for her persistent pleading, but the young man still refused. he said it was impossible, that his father would resent the marriage, and he 214 the white ghost book could not afford to offend his father. at this the girl became hysterical, and said, ‘ i shall not survive my shame, but i will haunt you to your dying day. and you,’ she added, turning to her cousin, ‘ shall be my witness.’ “ the girl died in her confinement. three years later the cousin, mrs. h., was passing a fashionable church in the west end of london, when she saw a number of carriages outside, and became aware that a wedding was in progress within. prompted by ordinary curiosity, she entered the church, and found, to her astonishment, that the bridegroom was the young man who had so cruelly betrayed and deserted her cousin. when the wedding was over, she left the church to wait outside and get a better view of the bride and bridegroom. “ then a strange thing happened. just as the bridal party was coming out of the church door she saw the apparition of her cousin. the girl was dressed in white and had an infant in her arms. “ mrs. h. and the bridegroom uttered a cry of horror at the same time. both had seen and recognised the apparition. the bridegroom turned deathly pale, trembled violently, and then, staggering, fell forward down the steps. he was lifted up by the officials, and was placed in the carriage and driven to his father-in-law’s house. on the arrival of the carriage he was lifted out—dead! “ the marriage of the haunted man and his death appeared in the same number of a daily paper. the story was told some years afterwards by the clergyman who was minister of the church at which the tragedy occurred—berkeley chapel.” spirits of nuns a vision in flanders—the gnosr or poar royal —the sour. or sister peter—sisterans de thelieux one evening, not long ago, a certain officer was making his report in his tent (in flanders) when, on looking up, he observed that a nun had entered. he appeared surprised. she then spoke to him, saying, “ until there is more humility in the world this war will never cease,” or words to that effect. the next day he called at the convent to find out what nun had visited him, but the reverend mother declared it was impossible that a nun had left the convent. but he declared it was true, and pointing to a photograph of one on the wall, said, “ that is i ‘ the one who visited me.” the reverend mother then told him that was the portrait of their former reverend mother, who had been dead three years. g this beautiful incident is one of the many cases that have been brought to my notice in which the spirits of nuns have appeared to dwellers on earth. * * * * * walton abbey is haunted by a spectre known as “ the headless nun of walton ”; there is also the nun of dryburgh abbey, and there is the famous french story of “ the ghost of port royal.” the ghost of marie angelique arnaud, abbess of port royal, appeared a few days before the death of sister marie dorothea perdereau. madame de montgobert, a widow, went one day 215 2x6 the white ghost book to visit madame de granges, when at port royal, and asked her whether it was true that the abbess had appeared. madame de granges said that it was undoubtedly true, and she called a witness and asked her to repeat the story. the latter said that two nuns, while in the convent chapel during the night, suddenly saw the late mother angelique rise from her grave, holding the abbess’s cross in her hand, and take the seat usually occupied by the abbess at vespers—that is to say, the first seat at the lower end of the choir on the right-hand side. having taken her seat, she beckoned to a nun and asked her to send for sister dorothy, who presently came to present herself before the abbess. the latter spoke to her seriously for some moments, though the watching nuns could not hear a word that was said, and suddenly the abbess vanished. there was no doubt that mother angelique had said some solemn words of warning to sister dorothy. the latter told the two sisters how she had seen the apparition, who had said she would die shortly. she died, in fact, about a fortnight or three weeks after the ghost’s appearance. * * * * * the following story is given me by the daughter of one of the most famous violinists. i am not allowed to mention her name, but her veracity is beyond question. she was staying at an old house in lancashire, and was one evening sitting in the library with a young priest, who had come over from the neighbouring town to celebrate mass the next day. the soul of sister peter 217 their talk gradually fell upon supernatural happenings, and he then narrated an experience of his own. a few months before, he had been asked to go to a certain convent to say mass in the place of the usual chaplain, who had been taken ill. he had never previously been in that part of the country, and knew no one there. he arrived late in the evening, and after partaking of supper, was sitting reading, when the door opened and a. nun came in. she came close to his chair, knelt down, and said in a low, clear voice, “ father, have you any intention for your mass to-morrow ‘p ” the answer being in the negative, she continued, “i beg of you to say your mass for the soul of sister peter.” the young priest gladly consented and the nun rose to her feet, made a deep obeisance, and passed out through the door. the next morning, after the service was over, he was being served with breakfast by a lay sister and inquired of her who sister peter might be. “ then you, too, have seen her ? ” exclaimed the lay sister in great excitement. she proceeded to explain that sister peter had died some months before, and had been in some trouble of mind, as the new mother superior, who was a foreigner, had not been able to understand the method of keeping the accounts of the community for which sister peter was responsible, and had expressed some dissatisfaction. since that time she had been often seen, and was constantly asking for the prayers of the faithful. * * * * * this quaint story, similar in character to “the miracle,” is told by adrien de montalambert, 218 the white ghost book almoner of francis i. of france. it runs as follows: a reformation was brought about in the abbey of saint pierre of lyons by letters patent of louis xii., april 22nd, 1513. before that time the convent was without priest, bishop, or abbess to keep order over the nuns, who became very undisciplined, and reform was called for. strict nuns, who served god devoutly by day and by night, were brought from other convents. one young nun had charge of the sacristy and kept the keys of the chamber in which the relics and treasures of the abbey were contained. she did not wish to be subjected to the new and strict rules, and so she was in despair. dissatisfied and distressed, she left the abbey, and because she was beautiful she knew she could get on well in the outside world. before she went she stole some of the altar draperies and ornaments and sold them for a certain sum, with which she lived a life of gaiety and worldliness, continuing to do so until she lost her good looks and all her charms, and was on her deathbed. she was so changed by illness and had so lost her beauty that those who had known her could no longer recognise her. thus, abandoned by her friends, poor and neglected, sister alis, seeing she had no hope, wept bitterly, deeply regretting that she had ever left the abbey. she besought the virgin mary to con-. cede her forgiveness, and promised that if she escaped from death she would serve god devoutly. for a long time she lay beseeching divine mercy, asking either to be healed or to be released from the sister alis de thelieux 219 sufferings which she had brought upon herself through her own sin; then she grew weaker and weaker, and at last died, not in the abbey, nor even in the town, but, deserted by all the world, in a small village not far away, and there was buried without prayers or ceremonial of any kind, as an abandoned creature; and as time passed by no one even remembered her name. meanwhile, there lived at the abbey a nun who, at the time of the reform, had been eighteen years of age, of the name of antoinette de grollée, a young lady from the dauphiné. she was simple and devout, and much given to religious exercises. she had been at the convent in old days, and had known the dead woman, and, indeed, the latter had called upon her name for help during her last illness, and had spoken of her a great deal. one night antoinette was alone in her room, in bed, sleeping lightly, when she felt something or someone raise her coifiure de nuit from her face and make the sign of the cross on her forehead, then kiss her lips very gently and tenderly. the young nun rose immediately. she was not frightened, but merely surprised, wondering who it could be that should make the sign of the cross and kiss her in this manner. she saw no one near her, and did not know what to do. but, thinking she must have had a dream, she went to sleep again and spoke to no one of her adventure. a few days later she heard a strange sound in her room, and tapping under her feet. this frightened her, and she told the abbess about it. the latter did her best to console her, thinking it was o 220 the white ghost book the girl’s imagination. but the noises and tapping continued wherever the young nun went, and it seemed as though a spirit constantly accompanied her, rapping out her pleasure whenever divine service was held, but only when this nun was present. it became known in the town that antoinette was accompanied by a ghostly visitant, and many of the people of lyons came to the abbey of saint pierre to inquire about this supernatural apparition, but the idle and curious were not admitted. when questioned, antoinette said that she thought her unseen companion might perhaps be the sacristan alis, because she had often thought of her since her death, and frequently dreamed about her. then the abbess conjured the spirit to speak forth and declare who she was and what she wanted, and a voice replied that she was in truth sister alis, former sacristan of the abbey, and that she had always remembered antoinette, so made her the vehicle through whom she could communicate with the world. then the abbess asked her whether she was troubled because her body was not interred at the abbey, and the ghost indicated that this was indeed what troubled her, and she much desired that her corpse might be disinterred and buried again at the abbey. so the lady abbess sent in search of the grave and had the corpse removed to within the precincts of the convent. nevertheless, the disembodied soul kept on fluttering round antoinette as her body was brought. nearer and nearer to the abbey, and when it reached the door of the church the rapping under the nun’s feet became violent. moreover, while the funeral sister alis de thelieux 221 service was being held, the ghost seemed to have no rest, though it was not known whether the noise expressed the grief endured by the lost soul or her joy at her mortal remains being once more within the abbey precincts. the remains were buried in a coffin in the small chapel de notre-dame, and a mortuary cloth was draped upon it. the usual measures were taken to release the repentant nun’s soul from purgatory. the nun whom she followed was brought before the reverend bishop suffragan of lyons, and was told to kneel on a hassock specially brought for the occasion. as soon as she had knelt down everyone listened eagerly for sounds which might show that the ghostly companion was present. first the bishop made the sign of the cross on antoinette’s forehead, and offered up a prayer. then he reproached and conjured the evil spirit to depart. after that he pronounced the excommunication. during this proceeding the candles on the altar were mysteriously extinguished and the church bell rang continuously. the evil spirit entered into some of the nuns present and caused them to cry out. then the evil spirit was cross-examined as to her actual personality, her presence in the church, the ownership of the bones buried in the chapel de notre-dame, to all of which questions replies were satisfactory. then service was said for the deliverance of the soul in torment, the deceased was pardoned ‘and absolution granted. later, when questioned as to whether she was now at rest, she gave nine distinct knocks in reply (to represent the nine orders of the blessed spirits 222 the white ghost book of paradise) to show that she had been released from purgatory. on friday, march 20th, 1526, about nine o’clock at night, when antoinette was going to her cell to bed, a tall nun followed her into her room. she thought it was one of the sisters of the convent, but as soon as the nun had entered, carrying a wax candle in her hand, she knew she had been mistaken and that it was a stranger. then she began to tremble. the stranger turned her face towards her, but did not raise her veil, and presently she vanished in a corner of the apartment. that same night antoinette was awakened by a voice which said that the speaker intended to bid good-bye to her and all the nuns of the abbey, and that she would make a great noise at matins, and that this would be taken as a sign of her last appearance, and she would then depart to eternal joy, as her sins had been forgiven her. before leaving, she recited to antoinette five beautiful prayers. then all was silent. the next day at the beginning of matins there came such a terrible noise in the church that all the nuns present were terrified, but antoinette stood up and said, “ good sisters, do not fear; this is sister alis de thelieux, who is taking leave of us. to-day she enters paradise.” on saturday, 21st of the same month, while the nuns were in the refectory, suddenly thirty-three knocks were heard, this number signifying that the penitence of sister alis was complete, having been abridged by divine clemency from thirty-three years to thirty-three days, and thereafter sister antoinette neither saw nor heard her again. three ghosts of the law courts and two of the sea . ,,.-.. the ghost of anne walker bout 1630, there lived near chester-le-street, in durham, a yeoman named walker. he was prosperous and a widower, and his house was kept for him by a young kinswoman, named anne walker. one evening anne was seen with a collier, named mark sharp, from blackburn, in lancashire, and that night she suddenly disappeared. during the following winter a miller, named james graeme, or graham, who lived. about two miles from the place where walker lived, was working alone in his mill very late one night, when, coming downstairs from putting corn in the hopper, he saw, to his amazement, the figure of a woman standing in the middle of the floor. herhair was hanging down and dripping with blood, and tliere were several wounds on her head. . the miller crossed himself, and at last summoned up courage to ask her who she was and what she wanted. she replied: “ i am the spirit of anne walker, who lived with walker, and, being betrayed by him, he promised to send me to a place where i should be well looked to, and then i should come again and keep his house. accordingly, late one night i was p 225 226 the white ghost book ~_, sent away with one mark sharp, who upon a moor (naming a place the miller knew) slew me with a pick, such as men dig coals withal, and gave me these five wounds, and after threw my body into a coal pit hard by, and hid the pick under a bank. his shoes and stockings being bloody, he endeavoured to wash them, but, seeing the blood would not forth, he hid them there also.” the ghost then told the miller that he must reveal what she had told him, or she would appear again and continually haunt him. he went home feeling very sad, and for some time after shunned the old mill after dark when alone, thinking by this means to escape the ghost. however, one evening, just as darkness was settling in, anne walker appeared to him again, this time “ very fierce and cruel,” and told him that if he did not reveal the murder she would continually pursue him. still he hid the story—though the ghost constantly appeared and pulled the clothes off his bed—until the next st. thomas’ even, when she appeared to him in his garden, this time soon after sunset, and so threatened and frightened him that he promised to reveal all she had told him the following morning. next day james graham went to a magistrate and told him the whole circumstances. a search was made, and the body of anne walker was found in the coal-pit, with five large wounds in her head, as described. the pick was also found and the bloody shoes and stockings; in fact, every detail of the ghost’s story was fully corroborated. walker and sharp were both arrested, and at anne walker’s ghost 227 the durham assizes were arraigned, found guilty, condemned, and executed. another extraordinary circumstance was that at the trial, which was in august, 1631, before judge davenport, a man named george fairbain, of ford, near lanchester, affirmed on oath that he saw the likeness of a child stand upon walkefs shoulder. at this the judge was very troubled, and “ gave sentence that night the trial was, which was a thing never used in durham, before or after.” it is believed that fairbain was foreman of the jury, so the judge was very much troubled lest he himself might see the same apparition. some accounts say that he did see it. graeme’s original deposition is in the bodleian library (tanner’s mss.). dr. webster, mr. william lumley, of great lumley——-who was present at the trial—mr. john smart, of durham, and others, have borne testimony to the truth of the story. mr. lumley saw and read a letter, containing a narrative of the whole business, that was sent by the judge before whom walker and sharp were tried, and kept a copy of it until 1658, when it was stolen with other books and papers. a mr. shepherdson also collected first-hand evidence of the truth of the story, and surtees relates it‘very fully in his “ history of durham.” ""“~\-. 228 the white ghost book the case of sergeant davies two men, duncan terig, alias clerk, of gleneye, and alexander bain macdonald, of invercauld, were brought up for trial before the high court of justice at edinburgh, june 11th, 1754-, for the murder of sergeant arthur davies, of lieut.-general guise’s regiment, on september 28th, 1749. the trial, which began at seven in the morning, lasted until about four the next day, and was remarkable in that it was the last on record in which a ghost was admitted as evidence. one of the witnesses, alexander macpherson, a country servant lad of about twenty-six, deposed that one night when he was in bed in a shealing (highland hut) in the summer of 1750, in which other people were also sleeping, a man dressed in blue came to his bedside. the lad took him to be a brother of donald farquarson, of glendee, and on being commanded to get up and follow him out of the room, did so. when they got outside, the man in blue said to macpherson: “ i am sergeant davies.” he then pointed to a place on the moors where he said his bones would be found, and desired macpherson to go and bury them, and said he could ask donald farquarson to assist him. he described the place so exactly that macpherson, on going to look for the bones (not telling anyone about the vision he had seen), went directly to within a yard of where they lay. there in the peat moss he found a human body, badly decomposed, with the remains of a blue coat the case of sergeant davies 229 upon it. with the aid of his stick he drew out the body and laid it on open ground, and during the removal some of the bones separated from the others. he did not bury the body, but left it there. another night the ghost appeared to him again, and once more urged him to bury the body. macpherson asked the ghost who it was who had murdered him, and the ghost replied that it was duncan clerk and alexander macdonald. asked in cross-examination what language they conversed in, macpherson said that the ghost spoke with him in gaelic. the ghost then disappeared “in the twinkling of an eye.” macpherson told none of the people in the shealing of his experience, but a woman named mabel machardie, of invery, who was in the shealing, had since said that she, too, had seen the ghost and had told the witness himself so. macpherson went on to say that he related the story of the vision to john grewar, of duldowrie, and to the afore-mentioned donald farquarson, whose brother he had first taken the ghost to be, and that farquarson went along with him to where the bones lay, and together they buried them. the next witness, mabel machardie, deposed that one night, about four years before, when she was lying asleep at one end of the shealing, she saw something uncanny come in at the door, which frightened her so much that she drew the clothes over her head. she said that it appeared in a bowing position, and she could not tell what it was. next morning she asked macpherson what it was that had disturbed them during the night, and he said 23o the white ghost book she could be easy in her mind about it, for it would not trouble her any more. next came donald farquarson, of glendee, who said that macpherson had told him about the appearance of the ghost, and that he was induced to go along with him to bury the body because he feared that the apparition might appear to and trouble him. he deposed that they found the bones in a bed of peat-moss, not lying all together, but scattered, some of them at a distance of several yards from one another, and the hair lying by itself, separated from the body. the flesh was nearly all gone from the bones, and some blue cloth, all in rags, was lying, partly under the body and partly beside it. the witness asked macpherson if the ghost had ordered him to lay the bones in a churchyard, and macpherson had said “no,” so they agreed to bury the body in the moss. they then dug a hole with the shovel macpherson had brought, and buried the bones, laying part of the blue cloth under them and part above them, and covered all with turf. john grewar, of duldowrie, was the next witness. he deposed that about four years before he was told by alexander macpherson that the ghost of sergeant davies had appeared to him and desired him to bury his bones, and to take donald farquarson with him; and that some time after, when they were on the hill together, macpherson pointed out to him the place where the bones were found. after this extraordinary evidence the jury retired to consider their verdict, and returned a verdict of not guilty. the prisoners were therefore acquitted. a ghost called in court as witness the following instance of a man being tried for murder on the evidence of a ghost-story merits a place here, because it is the only case on record of a ghost being called in court to give evidence. a farmer who was coming home from market at southam, in warwickshire, was attacked and murdered, his body being thrown into a chalk-pit. next morning a man came to his wife and asked her if her husband had returned home. she said he had not, and that she had suffered the utmost anxiety and terror on his account. “ your terror,” said the visitor, ‘is nothing to mine. last night, as i lay in bed, wide awake, the ghost of your husband appeared, and showing me several ghastly stabs in his body, told me he had been murdered by so-and-so (mentioning the name), and his body thrown into the chalk-pit.” the farmer’s wife gave the alarm, the chalk-pit was searched, and the farmer’s body found covered with wounds as described. the man mentioned, whom the ghost had accused, was arrested and committed for trial. the case came on at warwick before lord chief justice raymond, and the jury were evidently about to convict him, when the judge said: “ i think, gentlemen, you seem inclined to lay more stress on the evidence of an apparition than it will bear. i cannot say that i give much credit to these kind of stories, but, be that as it will, we have no right to follow our own private opinions 6 231 232 the white ghost book here. we are now in a court of law, and must determine according to it, and i do not know of any law now in being which will admit of the testimony of an apparition, nor yet, if it did, doth the ghost appear to give evidence. “ crier,” he continued, “ call up the ghost.” the crier did so, three times, with great solemnity, but no ghost appeared. the judge then pointed out that the prisoner at the bar was a man of excellent character, and that there was no evidence whatever to show that he and the dead farmer had ever had any kind of quarrel or grudge between them. in fact, there was not a thread of tangible evidence against him at all, and therefore he ought to be acquitted. “ but from many circumstances which have arisen during the tria,” added the judge, “ i do strongly suspect that the gentleman who saw the apparition was himself the murderer, in which case he might easily ascertain the pit, the stabs, etc., without any supernatural assistance. and in such suspicion i shall think myself justified in committing him to close custody till the matter can be further inquired into.” this was immediately done, and the search warrant was granted. when the prisoner’s house was searched such strong proofs of his guilt appeared that he confessed the murder, and was executed at the next assizes. the red mark the following strange experience happened to captain g. powell, of bosham, sussex, while on a voyage from london to china and japan. the name of the ship is not given for obvious reasons, but otherwise the story is told here exactly as captain powell kindly gave it to me. “ we pulled out on the morning tide from the east india dock bound to china and japan, our first port of call being port said for coaling bunkers. we had the usual crew of english quartermasters, two french creoles, boatswain, carpenter, etc., and a few a.b. and o.s., with chinese firemen and greasers. our voyage down channel was of the usual kind in january—rotten; and as we sailed on new year’s day, we were none of us in the best of tempers, from our old man downwards. however, by the time we had cleared the channel and were in the bay, things had cleared up generally, both in temper and weather. “ i was second officer on board, and as such had the middle watch, which, i may say for the benefit of the uninitiated, starts at twelve noon and goes on till 4 p.m., and from 12 midnight till 4 a.m. i had a watch of six a.b.s and two quartermasters, all english save one french creole. things went on in the usual way until we had run through the straits of gibraltar, and were heading for port said when the uncanny events happened that i am going to recount. 133 234 the white ghost book “ it began on a tuesday morning (that is, sea time, as we reckon our time from twelve noon to twelve noon next day), about ten minutes past two bells (which would be ten minutes past one), when the look-out on the fo’castle head suddenly gave a loud yell that even startled me on the navigation bridge, and fell down in a dead faint. “ i sent one of the quartermasters forward to see what was the matter, and, if the man was ill, to put another on the look-out at once, and then come and report to me. after a quarter of an hour or so he came on the bridge to make his report. it seemed .that the man, whose name was la croix, was walking across the deck keeping his look-out, when he thought he saw a black object just over the port side under the rail, like a man’s head. he walked over and looked, but could see nothing, so thought his eye had caught the top of the towing bollards. but soon again he caught sight of the same thing. this happened three times, and he was going to report it to me when, as he looked, suddenly a human form rose up at the side and simply melted through the rail and came towards him. he said he had time to recognise the face and to see that there was a huge gaping cut right round the throat. then he fainted. “ after the doctor had seen la croix and given him a sleeping draught i finished the remainder of my watch and turned in. the next day, after breakfast, i went forward to the fo’castle to see him. he was in his bunk, as the doctor had ordered him to lay up for a day or so, for the man was thoroughly unnerved. i went in and sat down by his bunk -—~ the red mark 235 on his donkey and had a yarn with him. he was very reserved, and told me nothing more than i knew already. “ after two days he turned to again. nothing happened the first night he was on the look-out. but the second night he was on the same thing occurred again, only this time i, too, distinctly saw a second figure on the fo’castle head. it was a fine, clear night, not too moonlight, with a gentle head-wind which carried every sound direct to me. what i saw was this. as la croix turned to walk from port to starboard, a figure seemed to rise just behind him, put an arm out with hand outstretched, then draw it sharply round the other’s neck, at the same time giving him a swing round so as to put them face to face. “ needless to say, la croix went off into fit after fit and then collapsed, and we all thought he would be dead before the doctor could get to him. however, he pulled him round and the next day i went to see him. i should not have known the man— from being a fine young fellow he had become an old man with hair quite white, and a perfect red mark extending from his right ear under his chin half way to his left ear. “ at first he would say nothing and wanted to be left, so i left him. but in the first dog-watch (four to six) one of the quartermasters came to say that la croix would like to see me. i went forward and had a long yarn with him. he told me he knew he was dying, but that, before he died, he would like to confess one thing: he had committed a murder. 236 the white ghost book “ it appears that, some three years before, he and another man had been ashore together at melbourne and had got very drunk, and had had a row over a woman who had preferred his mate. he went on board and brooded over it, and two days after, which was a sunday, he had taken his mate out into the country for the day, and then brutally cut his throat from ear to ear. but before he died his mate managed to cry out: ‘ i’ll haunt you and murder you.’ “ la croix picked up a little and was given light day jobs and turned in all night, another man taking his place in the watch. the day before we reached port said he seemed better, and was sent on the fo’castle head before the look-out was set, when suddenly there was an awful blood-curdling yell. the men rushed out to the fo’castle. there lay la croix across the deck with his throat cut from ear to ear. “ this i saw myself as i had the body removed.” legends of bosham harbour in the middle ages, the legend says, a band of fierce pirates, headed by wulff, the son of sweyn, swooped down on bosham, in sussex, and finding no rich booty among the fisherfolk, took away the fine old bell that hung in the church tower, in spite of the horrified resistance of the priests. they carried the bell on board their ship and set sail, but before they were out of the harbour it legends of bosham harbour 237 crashed through the deck and into the hold, finally reaching the bottom of the sea but leaving no hole in the vessel. the terrified pirates, realising that a miracle had happened, sailed away as quickly as they could, leaving the big bell of bosham down in the deep. but though the bell no longer hung in the belfry, it did not remain idle in its sea-grave, and nowadays, whenever the rest of the bells ring out clear and sweet to call the fisher-folk to church, the big bell joins in, and its deep tone can be clearly heard by those who have ears to hear. the spot where it sank through the ship is called “ bell hole” to this day. 1! * * ll‘ ii there is, however, another story attached to bosham harbour, a far less agreeable one, for it concerns a terrible tragedy and an avenging ghost, and is, moreover, well founded. this is the story: about 1835 a man called caleb dereham was the owner of a ketch built at portsmouth, called the flying scud. he called himself a fisherman, but was popularly credited with deriving most of his income from smuggling brandy. he had a partner called joseph makepeace. both partners drank heavily, and makepeace was well-known along the coast for the fact that when drunk he always sang hymns, which fact earned him the nickname of “ the preacher.” dereham was a morose, silent man, difficult to deal with at all times, and positively dangerous when in his cups. the flying scud frequently put in to 238 the white ghost book bosham harbour when the weather was bad, and always anchored in the same place in the “ deep.” on one of these occasions it was noticed that makepeace was not on board, but dereham, on being questioned about it, flew into such a violent rage that the subject was not pursued, and it was supposed that they had quarrelled and parted, as he was never seen again. some years afterwards, dereham, who had been drinking more heavily than usual, was stabbed during a drunken brawl in a tavern at portsmouth by a spanish sailor, and the flying scud passed into the hands of a man called mortimer, who used her for fishing along the coast. on one occasion, about a year after the change of ownership, he put into bosham harbour owing to stress of weather, and anchored in the old place down the deep. later that night he turned up, white and shaking, in bosham village, saying that his boat was haunted by a black devil with a red face and that he would not return to her. he was laughed at and thought to be in liquor, and three men persuaded him to return with them to his boat, they promising to stay on board with him till morning. the three men slept on deck. about two in the morning one woke up, with the impression that someone had called him. he went over to where his mates were and woke them. the first thing they all noticed was a peculiar smell, as if the harbour mud had been stirred up. as they were talking together, a noise behind them made them look round, and they saw makepeace standing by the forecastle hatch, deadly white, looking aft with an expression legends of bosham harbour 239 ‘ of absolute horror on his face. they all three followed his glance, and saw the figure of a man apparently clambering over the stern. he appeared covered with black mud up to the neck, and the head was shockingly cut, the upper part of the face being a mass of blood. in spite of this all three recognised the figure, and with a cry of “ my god, it’s the preacher ! ” they ran towards him. as they approached, the figure gave a kind of choking scream, and disappeared over the stern with a loud splash. they rushed to the stern to render help, but nothing was to be seen, the water appeared untroubled, and on examination there was no sign of mud or even water on the rail at the stern. mortimer, who had come up with them, told them he had seen the figure only once before, namely, early that same night before he came up to bosham, and that the figure was evidently trying to tell him something, but that no sound came, as the mouth was full of mud, and that the expression of the face was so dreadful that he lost his head, jumped into the dinghy, and left the boat with the terrible visitor still struggling at the stern. a few days afterwards the flying scud changed hands again, and during the next few years passed through several people’s hands, till at last it was bought by a ship-breaker and broken up. dreams, portents, and warnings dreams—strange, prophetic, and recurrent dr. haswelub experience—reour-rent dreams-mrs. frounxns and pnruonrc danams-dmmms on illomen-the ossns or maria marten and srnncna perceval—mrs. drayson'b exranmnons. if there be any truth in the signs of the times,” says mr. reginald l. hind, in his fascinating book, “ dreams and the way of dreams,” “ to stand at this present day on the threshold of a new age of vision, when men will be led once again to see the true inwardness and involution of things. and we may fairly believe that when such an age is fully come the minds of men will be wandering constantly down the way of dreams. the old saying of zeno will be remembered and laid to heart, that the study of our dreams is essential to self-knowledge.” these words were written in 1913, before the war had brokenout and our deepest emotions had been ploughed up by the great unrest. with the war the “ new age of vision ” began indeed to dawn, and we all—civilians at home, sailors at sea, soldiers in the trenches—are now coming to regard dreams, visions, and other revelations with an altogether new and more intelligent interest. i have collected the following instances of strange, wc s€61tl. 243 244 the white ghost book . prophetic and recurrent dreams, all absolutely authentic, and most of them given to me by the dreamers themselves. at this present time they should prove of peculiar interest. if * * * * dr. haswell, of leamington, had the following interesting dream, for an account of which i am indebted to him :—— “ in 1887, on the friday before whitsunday, i travelled from sunderland to keswick and drove thence over the whinlatter pass to scale hill, near crummock water. my friend b went with me on this expedition, our main object being to take photographs of the crummock and buttermere district. “ my boy, then between three and four years old, with his nurse, was at the sunderland station to see me off. he was apparently in perfect health —a fact which ought to be mentioned, as the dream which i had in the night between the saturday and sunday following could not have been ‘ induced by anticipation.’ “ the dream was as follows: i seemed to be at home in my own bedroom and saw my wife bending over the crib where my boy lay. his face looked red, and he was evidently in a state of fever. i anxiously asked my wife, ‘ vvhat is the matter with him ? ’ she replied, ‘i don’t know, but whatever it is, don’t worry. i’ll do my best for him.’ “ such was my dream. it was most vivid and realistic in every detail. every familiar object in my dr. haswe1l’s experience 245 bedroom at home appeared just as i knew it--bed, crib, ornaments on the mantel and dressing-table, even the gas bracket from which the light was burning. “ i awoke in a state of considerable excitement, and after a while went to sleep again, but only to dream the same dream again. at breakfast in the morning i told b my dream, saying, ‘ i feel very anxious; something must be wrong. i never had such a dream. i wish i could go home and see what is the matter.’ “ b—replied, ‘ surely you will never go now —why, we’ve only just come!’ “ i considered, and wrote my wife a letter, briefly describing my dream, omitting the empression used by my wife in the dream, and giving her an address in keswick which would be most likely to find me after two or three days. it was then sunday, and there was no postal dispatch from scale hill, but i found a countryman going into cockermouth (ten miles distant) who offered to post my letter. “ my wife’s reply reached me at keswick about the middle of the week. she said, ‘ it is very strange, but what you were dreaming was actually taking place at the time.’ she added words, not precisely the same as i had heard her say in my dream, but remarkably alike, and in effect the same: ‘ i don’t know what has been the matter with jack, but don’t worry, i’ll do my best for him.’ “ in the light of subsequent events it seemed that a mild attack of brain fever had been the complaint from which my son had been suffering. “ i was discussing this case with b—~— not long “q 246 the white ghost book ago. he distinctly remembers my anxiety at breakfast and my evident desire to go home to see if my dream had any foundation in fact.” * ill 8 * 1' mr. j . c. stenning, of saffrons road, eastbourne, has kindly sent me the following story of a recurrent dream: “ for about fifteen years i constantly dreamed, sometimes twice in a night, the same dream; it was always very vivid and distinct. it was as follows: (i should say that my business in london often led me to go from st. mary axe to bishopsgate street through a passage leading past great st. helen’s church.) “ i dreamed that there was a wall by the east end of the church in which there was a door. this door was often open, and i used to look into an open space, beyond which were ruins of some ecclesiastical building, arches, columns, walls, and remains of towers. the dream was so clear that when passing i often felt surprised that there was no wall or door. in fact, buildings were so close to the church that there was no space left for such a wall. one evening my eldest son asked me to look at a print, the name of which he carefully covered over. i at once exclaimed that it was the view of the ruins i was so constantly dreaming about; he then drew away the paper that covered the name: ‘ ruins of the priory of great st. helen’s in a.d. ——(i do not recollect the date). “ since he showed me this print, now many recurrent dreams 247 years ago, i have never once had the dream. i was introduced to professor barrett in may, 1910, and told him this dream. he thought it should be investigated, and asked me to get my son to write to him about it. \i have heard nothing since. professor barrett asked if i had had any ancestors connected with great st. helen’s, but i do not know of any, and do not think there is any ground for any idea of a pre-natal influence. i had never seen an illustration of the priory ruins previously. i believe st. helen’s place now occupies partially or wholly the site of the priory.” * * * 1! ik the following dream-vision was related to me by miss winifred hall, to whom also i owe the curious story of “ the old lady in black ” (see p. 152) : “ i had an aunt who was able to foretell death with the utmost certainty. she used to hear a sound which she described as being exactly like the swishing of a scythe in her room at night. she would wake suddenly and hear this swish, and always knew if it was a young death, since the scythe would then be close to the ground, as if cutting young grass. and in each case the ill-omen was justified. we had the most complete evidence of her eerie gift, for she would often tell us when she had heard the scythe and whom it indicated. “ one day she heard the sound of the regular swish-swish of the scythe, and came and told my mother there would be a death in the family—though that of a child, meaning she need not fear regarding 2i1,8 the white ghost ‘book my father. this was on a sunday, and at the time we were all well; but on the tuesday one of my sisters was taken ill. she died on the thursday. “ that night i had an extraordinary dream. i dreamt i had washed my hair and was drying it at the glass in my bedroom, when i turned round and saw my little sister in her nightdress looking at me, i noticed that all her beautiful golden curls were cut off, and that she was wearing a little lace dutch bonnet. i said to her, ‘ you funny girl—fancy having your bonnet on! and where are your curls ? ’ she just smiled at me, and with a start i woke up. “ the dream made a great impression on me. next morning i began to tell the sister with whom i was sleeping all about it, when suddenly our nurse came in and broke the sad news to us that our little sister had died during the night. later on, the trained nurse came and said, ‘ come with me and see your sister.’ we went with her, and there lay my sister exactly as i had seen her in my dream. they had cut off all her hair and had put a little lace dutch cap on her head. “ i need hardly tell you that, although it all happened when i was a child, i have never forgotten a single detail of the dream—or rather vision, for that is what it was.” * * * * ‘ * mrs. m. chester ffoulkes mentioned a most curious dream on page 87 of “ my own past.” she writes: fi “ richard le gallienne introduced me to ‘ jimmy ’ welch, who. although not then the successful ‘ sir periodic dreams 249 guy dc vere,’ was just the same charming, unaffected person that he is to-day; i remember we discussed the supernatural, which has always interested me, and i told le gallienne and his friend about a strange dream which had come to me on the 31st of october for many years. “ in this recurrent dream, having been tried for a crime and condemned to death, i experienced, with the utmost vividness, all the horrors of the scaffold. i saw the waiting headsman, the grooved block, and the ghastly basket of sawdust. i felt my eyes bandaged, light became' darkness—i waited —and the scroll of my life unrolled before me. then came the dull, agonising blow, and i awoke. “ richard le gallienne was of opinion that this scene of the past was enacted either to stimulate my memory, or else to serve as a warning. ‘ jimmy ’ welch said briefly the one word ‘ indigestion.’ ” mrs. ffoulkes’.account of her dream, when published, led to a highly interesting correspondence on “ periodic dreams,” which ran for several weeks in the columns of the observer. one correspondent wrote: ' “ the subject of periodic dreams is one of extraordinary interest. a friend of mine used to have a periodic vision. every good friday night she _ dreamed she was in an oak-panelled room of an old country house, looking at the portrait of a cavalier over the mantelpiece. it was a peculiar face in every respect—the features so bold and strongly marked; and there was a long scar on the forehead. , whilst .,__,.. _ ._ _‘i._i_i~ 250 the white ghost book she was looking the door behind her opened, and a young woman with bright yellow hair entered. coming up to my friend, she said, ‘ i am k. e. i killed him. i had to do it; but no one knows.’ then my friend awoke. she had this dream for many years in succession.” i refer my readers to the files of the observer for november and december, 1915, for some curious and interesting instances of the periodic dreams. finally, mrs. ffoulkes wrote the following letter: “. . . perhaps i may be permitted to relate a very vivid prophetic (y) dream which came to me in february, 1904. “ i dreamt that i formed one of a party who were going to spend christmas in the country. the first dream-picture was a drive across a snow-wrapped countryside to a wonderful old house. the carriage drove through a paved courtyard and stopped at the great open door of the mansion. we alighted, and inside, i remember, all was life and activity. people were hurrying hither and thither, and a servant told me that a great fancy dress ball was to be given that night, and would i come upstairs and dress as soon as possible t “ i went down long passages, and at last found myself in a small bedroom with leaded windows which looked down on the courtyard through which we had just driven. there was a chintz-hung fourposter, everything was very old-fashioned, and i especially remember the looking-glass, cracked and blurred, which stood on the dressing-table. there the case of maria marten 251 were, apparently, clothes laid out on the bed, and the servant turned to me, saying, ‘ here is your costume for the ball.’ “ ‘ whom do i represent?’ i asked. without a word she handed me a small engraving of a woman which was lying on the bed. “ ‘ you will represent maude ffoulkes,’ she answered; ‘ she lived and died most unhappily.’ i recognised the woman in the picture as myself, and the clothes on the bed were my own; but when, terrified, i looked in the mirror i could plainly see, cracks and blurs notwithstanding, that i was quite different in appearance from the maude ffoulkes of the picture. “ then i awoke. in 1909, when i paid my first visit to deene park, i recognised the house and courtyard of my dream. but no room corresponded to that where i had seen the picture and clothes of maude ffoulkes. “ this dream was exceptionally vivid, and i have often wondered whether it was sent as a warning. certainly events have sin.ce partly justified the servant’s remark, but in those days i had no actual ‘ sensing ’ of coming trouble.” l * * ill =li the famous true story of maria marten and the red barn, in which a dream led a murderer to justice, is worth re-telling here, as many people have forgotten the actual circumstances. maria marten, a girl of twenty-two, was the daughter of a mole-catcher at polstead, in suffolk. she lived with her parentse.in‘ the village a happy 252 the white ghost book and uneventful life, until william corder, the son of a neighbouring farmer, who had often visited her at her father’s house, persuaded her to run away with him to go to ipswich to be married. this was in may, 1827. it was about midday when they left her father’s house, maria going out of one door and corder out of another, to avoid suspicion. maria had also put on boy’s clothes as a disguise, intending to resume her own clothes at a place called the red barn, which was on some land belonging to the corders. noticing that her sweetheart carried a gun, maria asked him if it was loaded, to which he replied, “ yes.” a few days later corder returned to the village alone, and on being asked by maria’s parents where she was, he said the wedding had not taken place, as he was afraid to take her to his father’s house, but that he had left her in a place of safety. she had not written, he added, because she was unused to the pen. . time passed by, and september came. corder, who was looking ill and haggard, said his doctor had ordered him to go abroad, but before starting he saw to it that the red barn was well filled with grain, he himself helping to take in the corn. after he had gone he wrote to his family and to maria’s parents, saying in one of his letters that maria was now his wife. the letters, however, came from london and not from abroad. soon village gossip was busy with his name, and maria’s brother, thomas marten, remembered that he had seen him walk across the fields in the direction the case of maria marten 253 of the red barn on the day of his sister’s elopement. in spite of this, however, no proof of any kind could be actually brought against him. but mrs. marten, who, we may be sure, was grieving sorely for her daughter, dreamt on three successive nights that maria had been done to death and buried in the red barn, and insisted that the floor should be taken up at once. this was done on april 19th, 1828, and a sack was found containing the remains of the murdered girl. corder was traced to ealing, where he was found to be married and living in prosperity. he was tried and found guilty, and executed in august, 1828. while lying under sentence of death he made a full confession of the crime. ' * * * * * one of the most wonderful historic dreams on record is that of mr. john williams, of scorrier house, redruth, cornwall, in 1812. on may 11th mr. williams dreamt that he was in the lobby of the house of commons, when he saw a man dressed in a brown coat enter. soon afterwards another man, whom he understood in his dream to be mr. perceval, who was then prime minister, came in, and immediately the man in brown took out a pistol and shot him. several people standing near took hold of the murderer, and then mr. williams in great agitation awoke. he told his wife that he had had a strange dream in which he saw the prime minister assassinated, but she made light of the matter, and he went to sleep again. 254 the white ghost book again he had the same dream, the same in every detail, and again he awoke his wife and told her; but she, being convinced that the former dream still haunted him, advised him to compose himself and not think of it. a third time he saw the same grim scene enacted in the house of commons, and on waking was so impressed that he got up and dressed, being unable to rest any more. when morning came he was still under the spell of his three dreams, and discussed the possibility of going to london and telling mr. perceval by way of warning. he went over to falmouth on business and told some friends there at the godolphin mine about his dreams and his intention of making the long journey to london. naturally they dissuaded him, saying he would only be ridiculed and taken for a madman, and so he said nothing more, but watched eagerly for the arrival of the newspapers. next day nothing happened, but on may 13th a son of mr. williams, who lived at truro, arrived at scorrier house and announced that mr. perceval had been assassinated in the house of commons on the evening of the 11th, and that the news had just come through to truro,, but was not yet in the papers. a few weeks after, mr. williams went to london on business, and in one of the print-shops saw a coloured drawing representing the tragedy in the house of commons. he bought it, and in studying it found that every detail represented coincided with his dreams, even down to the blue coat and white waistcoat mr. percival had worn, and the brown assassination of spencer perceval 255 coat of bellingham, the murderer. he went to the house of commons and in the presence of several friends pointed out the exact spot where the murder was committed, and, in fact, reconstructed the crime most minutely. the story of the dream aroused the greatest interest. the times published it some years afterwards, while mr. williams was still alive and also many of the people to whom he had told the dream before the fact of the murder of mr. perceval was known. the version given by the times, however, differed in certain details from the most authentic account, which was given by mr. williams himself to the society for psychical research and published in the society’s “ proceedings.” * it * # # mrs. drayson—some of whose experiences i have quoted elsewhere—has had wonderful dreams. when a little girl of twelve or thirteen, living at hendon, she woke up one sunday after a queer dream about an old man wholived in a house near, who was never visited, and, in fact, whose house nobody had been in. she dreamt she went into the house and upstairs to what was obviously his bedroom, but it was a most extraordinary room, with trees in it and grassy banks. in the middle of the room was a bed, on which he lay dead. then she woke, and at breakfast she told her brother and sisters about her dream. going to church with her mother an hour later, they met their doctor, who pulled up his horse and 256 the white ghost book said, “ well, poor old so-and-so has gone,” mentioning this man. the mother, very startled, told him the child’s dream, and he exclaimed with astonishment, for the old man, it seems, had been an actor, and all round his bedroom were bits of scenery, backcloths, and borders, with grass and trees and flowers on them, making the room look exactly as the child had seen it. * * , * * * a girl who was very fond of botany one day discovered, a plant the name of which she could not recollect. she racked her brains at intervals that day, but could not remember it. in the night she dreamt she was at a party, and was introduced to a lady whose name was mrs. hypnum. the plant whose name she had forgotten was a hypnum! this dream was related in a lecture by dr. w. sykes at doncaster. * ik ill ill * a correspondent writes me as follows: “ i see you are interested in dreams. there is a certain countess i know very little of indeed; she is very old. i don’t even like her, and have not the slightest personal interest in her. i dreamt most vividly that -she was in great trouble in a room thronged with people who pressed on her, and would not let her pass out of the room. she appealed to me for help. i put my arms round her, and fought my way to the door, saying, ‘ you must let her pass.’ ‘“ i was wakened by a maid coming in and laying a newspaper on my bed. i opened it, and there, in large letters, was an account of the tragic death of her younger son in an accident. the assassination of spencer perceval as seen ‘by mr, williams in a dream, and as he subsequently saw it depicted in an engraving—here reproduced (see page 253) death warnings 257 “ some time after that i again dreamt of the countess. next day i heard of her eldest son’s death. a third time i dreamt of her, and immediately i heard her daughter had caught fire and was dangerously ill, but eventually recovered. it strikes me as so specially curious, because the countess has no personal interest for me. how different had she been one i loved! the scene of the last two dreams was not of the crowded room, but i saw her distinctly.” the horse of death this story concerns a very old house in wales. the interior contains some magnificent old oak, and over one of the mantelpieces is carved the date a.d. 1535, and the motto “ i serve,” in welsh. at the time of which i write, it was lived in by some friends of mine, and the lady of the house had a most curious experience, which she has given me leave to include in this book. i am sorry i cannot give her name, but she has kindly allowed me to relate the story as i had it from her own lips: “ my husband was at liverpool at the time,” she said, “ expecting to undergo an operation, and i had a ’phone message to say: ‘ have to wait—~ operation postponed.’ so, naturally, i was very worried and anxious. “ that night i was lying wide awake in bed with my daughter evadne asleep beside me, when i r 258 the white ghost book heard a horse tearing full pelt down the hill and along the drive up to the house. the sound of the galloping hoofs rang out distinctly. it was about one o’clock and a bright moonlight night, calm and still, with no wind. i jumped out of bed, opened the ‘window, and looked out. my window overlooked every inch of the drive, and, to my amazement, there was no horse to be seen. “ full of wonder, i waited for some time and then went back to bed, but not to sleep, for i lay and wondered at the strangeness of the thing, for the horse had made a noise like a whirlwind. “ about half an hour later i distinctly heard the horse turn round again and go down the drive, this time at walking pace. there was no sound of wheels, only the heavy thud, thud, thud of hoofs. “ next day i asked my daughter if she had heard a horse come up to the house during the night, and she said ‘ no.’ “ i could not get the sound of the horse’s hoofs out of my mind—they simply haunted me. i knew they portended disaster of some kind, because had it been an ordinary horse i must have seen it. the drive was a peculiar one, ending in a cul-de-sac, and there was no way in which it could have been hidden from view. “ later on in the day my husband was brought home dying, and i prayed i might never hear the terrible hoofs of the horse of 'ill-omen again. ii‘ ii! * ill * “a year later i was lying on the sofa, in the same house in wales, when to my horror i heard the horse of death 259 the horse again. once more it galloped furiously up the drive, this time in broad daylight, and stopped at the door. i got up and rushed to the door, but could see nothing, though i heard hoofs thudding away down the drive. a little later, my daughter came in from a walk with the maid, and turning to them i said: ‘ did you see or hear a horse ? ’ “ ‘no,’ they said; they had seen no horse, but there had just been a dreadful accident in the village. a lady was riding along the village street when her horse slipped and threw her on the pavement, killing her instantly.” seen in the crystal the following is not, strictly speaking, a ghost story, but, being of an occult nature and well founded, i include it here. it was told me by mrs. salis, kensington palace terrace, london, who had it first-hand from a welsh member of parliament, who was concerned in the strange events related. some years ago a well-known village character, named harper, lived in a village in glamorganshire. he was a weird old man, reputed to be a magician well versed in the black arts, and none of his neighbours cared to cross him in any way, for they all stood greatly in awe of him. when he died, his collection of occult books and 26o the white ghost book other ancient magic went to his niece who had lived with him in his cottage. mr. wallace,* the m.p. in question, who lives in the neighbourhood, had a friend named martin lloyd, who lived next door to his town house at chelsea. mr. lloyd was somewhat of an antiquarian, greatly interested in folk-lore and in old books and antiques of all kinds. when travelling in wales it occurred to him to inquire about the old man harper, of whom he had heard from mr. wallace, so he went to the cottage, where harper’s niece was still in possession, and knocked at the door. when the niece opened it mr. lloyd said: “ have you got any of the old books that belonged to your uncle ? if so i should like to look at them, and might possibly like to buy some of them from you.” the niece replied that she had a number of her uncle’s books which were in an old carved oak chest. mr. lloyd might look at them if he liked, “ but,” she added, “ i won’t have any taken out.” she took mr. lloyd to the oak chest, which was black with age, and on raising the lid, he saw several large books inside, most of them bound in leather with metal clasps. he saw also a large crystal ball, such as is used for crystal-gazing. “ would you be disposed to part with the books ? ” he said to miss harper. “yes,” she replied; “i am quite willing to sell them, but on the understanding that you take the chest and the whole of its contents as well.” * this and the other names are fictitious. seen in the crystal 261 mr. lloyd saw that the chest itself was worth buying, apart from the books, so he said he would give her ten pounds for the chest and contents. “ very well,” she said; “ you can have them for that price, but i will go out of the cottage while you make arrangements for taking them away.” she went out after receiving the money, and mr. lloyd went through the village to find someone to help him to get the chest to the station. none of the villagers seemed at all inclined to have anything whatever to do with the old wizard’s belongings. finally, he managed to get a man with a cart to take the chest to the station, and so removed it to london. . . when the books were examined they were found to be very curious volumes, full of old incantations, astrological signs and quaint recipes, and mr. lloyd put them back in the chest and kept them among his treasures in chelsea. years after, mr. wallace and mr. lloyd thought they would go and see a football match at chelsea. after leaving the match they found themselves in a great press of people, for there had been a huge crowd present. they were elbowing their way along when they heard a-child crying in the crowd, evidently in great distress. mr. lloyd turned round, and being a big, athletic man, he plunged into the crowd and rescued a small boy who was in danger of being trampled under foot, carrying him out of the throng on his shoulder. when clear of the crowd he put the boy down, and then found, to his dismay, that his gold watch and chain had vanished. this was not surprising, 262 the white ghost book considering that his arms had been raised while carrying the child, but he was extremely perturbed at the loss, because the watch had belonged to his grandfather (who was known as “ old peter ”), and was an heirloom in the family. he went back to look for it and inquired of the ' police, but could hear nothing of the watch, and was obliged to take his way home without it. presently he and mr. wallace saw mr. lloyd’s brother, dr. lloyd, who, when he caught sight of them, came up in an excited way and said: “ i’ve just lost my watch at the match,” adding, with a laugh, “it doesn’t much matter; it was only an old waterbury.” “ oh ! ” said mr. lloyd; “ that’s nothing compared with my loss. i’ve just had my gold watch and chain stolen.” “ you don’t mean to say you’ve lost old peter’s watch ! ” said the doctor. “ mother will never forgive you. i don’t know what you’ll have to tell her.” “ that’s the worst of it,” said mr. lloyd. “ i’m afraid she will fret about it. but i have an idea. this is a chance to consult the magical books i got from old harper years ago.” of course dr. lloyd thought this was an absurd r suggestion, but said he would go back with them to his brother’s flat and see what could be done. so they all three went to the flat, where they were shortly afterwards joined by mrs. lloyd and mrs. wallace. on consulting the books it appeared that the best procedure was that one of the party, not the loser, should look into the crystal ball, while one of the others should recite a certain magical formula. seen in the crystal 263 the doctor was selected to be the scryer (crystal gazer), while his brother recited the incantation. the doctor, with many protestations, looked into the crystal, in which he said he could see nothing at all. but after a few minutes he said, in a tone of the greatest excitement: “ i can see a man’s head—and what is more, it is that of a patient of mine! he is a man lying at present in chelsea infirmary with a broken leg.” “well,” said mr. wallace, “ if he is in chelsea infirmary with a broken leg he can’t have had anything to do with the theft of the watch which took place to-day.” this certainly seemed conclusive, but it was agreed on by all present that the doctor should make inquiries when next he saw his patient. nothing else was seen in the crystal. * * ii iii * the following day dr. lloyd went to the infirmary and at once told the sick man that his brother had been robbed of his gold watch at the football match the previous day and was anxious to recover it, because it was a valued heirloom. “ that was one of burgin’s gang!” at once exclaimed his patient. “ now, sir, you’ve been very good to me, and i’d like to do something for you. when do you think i can get out of this place ? ” “ well,” said the doctor, “ to-day’s saturday. i think you can go out on monday. if you get the watch and chain for me there’ll be ten pounds and no questions asked.” 264 the white ghost book and so the doctor left, after giving directions that the man might leave the infirmary on monday. before the week was out the watch was returned to its owner, and the £10 paid to the patient, and, we will conclude, no questions were asked. the three envelopes the following is another story told me by mrs. salis, who derived it from the same source as “ seen in the crystal.” in mr. wallace’s native village in wales there was an old man named tommy royce, who kept a small public-house. he had the strange and uncomfortable gift-——not quite so rare as it is thought to be—of seeing deaths beforehand, and had quite the reputation of second sight in the village. a new curate happened to be appointed to the village, and, being told of old tommy’s gift, was extremely horrified that such superstition should be rife in the place. ‘ he went to see the old man and told him that such things were untrue and the work of the devil, and said that if he heard any more gossip about tommy’s powers he would make a formal complaint to the rector of the parish. “ well,” said tommy, “ it’s quite true i have the gift, but that’s not my fault. i’ve often wished i’d iever had it. you can’t think it’s a pleasure for the three envelopes 265 me to have a man come iii for a glass of beer and to know he’ll be dead in a fortnight. for many years i’ve never predicted anything of the kind, or spoken of my power, but it is quite true that when i was a young man i occasionally used to do so.” “ oh, nonsense! ” said the curate. “such a thing is absolutely an imposture. the whole thing is a tissue of lies.” at this old tommy royce became very annoyed and excited, and said: “ if you doubt my word we can very easily put it to the test. i will undertake to write down the names of the next two people in the parish who will die.” the curate would not be convinced, and said he would have the names of three, in case two might be a coincidence. tommy royce did not wish to agree to this, but at last, after some discussion, he gave way on the point, and it was agreed that williams the schoolmaster should be a witness. they proceeded to the schoolhouse, where tommy royce wrote down the three names on three separate slips of paper, enclosed in three separate envelopes. the envelopes were then marked 1, 2, and 3, and given into the safe keeping of the schoolmaster. about a fortnight after this had taken place, a girl in the village, named rose flemming, died somewhat suddenly. as she had been suffering from consumption for some time there was not, perhaps, anything out of the ordinary way in her death. still, when the curate, at tommy royce’s request, went to the schoolmaster’s house and opened the 266 the white ghost book envelope marked 1, it was found, sure enough, that her name was there. now, at this time there was living in the village an elderly man named william hewitt, a well-to-do farmer, very strong and active. his business transactions necessitated his going up the rhondda valley from time to time to collect rents and moneys due to him. about ten days after the death of rose flemming he left the village as usual for the railway station. as he approached the station he saw the train just coming into it, and started to run, fearing he might miss it. after running a few yards he had an apoplectic seizure, fell down on the ground, and expired. as soon as the news of his death reached the village, the curate, thinking to prove tommy royce in the wrong, insisted on his going with him to the schoolmaster’s house, when, on opening the second envelope, it was found that the name of william hewitt was contained in it. tommy royce then said: “ now, surely, you are convinced that i have this power. i don’t want the thing carried too far. i don’t wish the third envelope to be opened, and should like it to be at once destroyed.” as he said these words, he attempted to snatch the envelope from the schoolmaster, but as the interest of the curate had now reached its highest point he succeeded, after a tussle, in getting possession of the envelope, which he tore open, and found on the third slip of paper—h'£s own name. he turned pale, and without a word left the the three envelopes 267 cottage and went home. within a week he took to his bed, and before the month was out he died. williams the schoolmaster, who told the story to mr. wallace, used to turn white whenever the incident was mentioned, and it is never likely to be forgotten in the village. the suicide ghost i have, in other of my books, touched on the power of suggestion by elementals who, when being the spirits of those who have committed suicide or have been murderers or particularly evil-livers, seek to lure to destruction anyone who comes under their malign influence. a curious instance of this occurred in connection with a case mentioned in “ another grey ghost book,” under the title of “ the ghost with half a face.” it deals with a house haunted by a peculiarly horrible apparition of a tall man, in evening dress, half of whose face was gone. i interviewed a person who had seen it and obtained irrefutable proof of its appearance. the lady of the house, as i related, called in a clairvoyant, who investigated the matter and found that it was a spirit earthbound after suicide. inquiries were made, and it was found that a former tenant had killed himself in the house by shooting himself with a gun, and that when he was found dead, half his face had been blown away, the effect being most ghastly. 268 the white ghost book “ another grey ghost book ” appeared in december, 1914. during the following spring an inmate of the house in question committed suicide by shooting himself, and i have pasted a cutting relating to the inquest in the book as a grim commentary on the story. i have lately been told of a most extraordinary instance of suggestion, but in this case the elemental did not make use of mere suggestion, but of violent means entailing great force, as did the supernatural agents in the case of the barbados coffin story, related in the same book under the title of “ the haunted vault.” at a certain house in the country a child of two was sitting in a high chair, playing with its toys. the toys were on a table attached to the chair in front, which fitted to the chair in so complete a manner that, unless it was removed, it was impossible for the child to leave the chair. the child, being securely fixed, was left for a few minutes by its mother, who, when she came back, found, to her astonishment, that the little one had disappeared. the window was wide open, and the chair was standing as when she had left it, but the table in front had been removed. concluding that someone had taken the child downstairs, the mother went in search of it, but it was not in the house, and no one had taken it out of the room. eventually it was found in a flower-bed, below the window of the room in which it had been left, perfectly unhurt, although the window from which it had been thrown was on the first storey. the suicide ghost ‘ 269 not long after, the occupants of the house removed, and new tenants took possession. the room which had formerly been the nursery, was now the bedroom of an invalid, the uncle of the lady of the house. he was suffering from paralysis, and quite unable to move, having entirely lost the use of his lower limbs. one day the nurse, entering his room, was surprised to find the bed empty. she went to the window, which was wide open, and there, far below, on the same flower-bed, her patient was lying. she ran down expecting to find him dead, but, except for the shock, he was none the worse for his fall. he was carried upstairs again, and was able to convey to her that, in some way for which he could not account, he had been forced to the window and pushed through, alighting on the flower-bed beneath. he said no one had come into the room, nor had he in any way recovered the use of his limbs. the power that took him to the window and impelled him through it was some tremendous force against which he had been quite powerless. inquiries set on foot elicited the fact that a man had once committed suicide by jumping from the window of the room in question. every subsequent occupant of the room was impelled to follow his example, the suggestion being accompanied by active force. after the last incident related above, the room was closed up for good. a270 the white ghost book at a seance a friend of mine, living at cricklewood, whom i will call mrs. wood, is extremely psychic and greatly interested in all kinds of ghostly phenomena. at one time, not long ago, she used to attend séances and had some very extraordinary experiences. then she found that as her powers developed there was a strong element of danger in her psychic studies, so she gave them up, though not without regret. she gave me one of her strange experiences, which i think may be of interest and which certainly proves her gift to have been a very remarkable one. “ i used often,” she said, “ to attend a small circle which met once a week at the house of a medium. “ one night, when we were all sitting down round the table, i suddenly felt a most weird sensation, as if i had been dipped into water and was soaking wet from my head to my heels. i also felt a curious oppression, as if i was drowning, and had taken on the personality of a man who was in the throes of a death struggle. it was a most eerie and peculiar feeling—simply horrible. “ i turned to the husband of the medium and asked him the time. he replied, ‘ it is a few minutes past nine.’ “ i then described the sensation i was undergoing, adding: ‘i am walking along by a river; it is dusk. i see a man and a woman. i see the woman push the man into the water. the man has bleeding hands. the woman disappears. there is a bridge near, and a large factory. the river banks are high. at a séance 271 there are some pollard willows along the river, and i see several church spires. the river is just outside a country town.’ ” “the medium said: ‘ the place you describe sounds like a place inizhe north close to my home in lancashire. i feel you know all about it. have you ever been in ——— ‘.7 ’ (mentioning a town in the north country). i replied that i had never been there in my life. “ the next time i went to the circle, on the following wednesday, i was greeted by the husband of the medium, who said to me: ‘ there won’t be a circle to-night. madame is called away to the funeral of the man you saw. he was drowned at the time you mentioned, for his watch had stopped at nine o’clock. he was walking with a girl by the side of the river, and they had a quarrel and she pushed him in. when the body was found the hands had several long scratches on them, as you saw him in your trance.” in the night the incident i am now going to relate happened some years ago in a wild and rugged part of the highlands of scotland, near rannoch moor. i am not allowed to give the actual address of the farm nor the real names of the people concerned, so i have substituted fictitious ones; but i can assure my readers that it not only happened, but had a lasting effect on all concerned. 272 the white ghost book a well-to-do young scottish farmer, whom i will call andrew maclean, owned a farm in a very lonely part of the highlands, not far from rannoch moor. his sister jean kept house for him, and busied herself besides with superintending the dairy and poultry yard, quite content with the quiet, uneventful life at the farm, which was so far from the nearest village that the advent of a visitor was an exciting event. the brother and sister were both ordinary, commonsense people, not at all superstitious nor given to imagining unusual sights or sounds. one evening they were both sitting over the fire in the living-room at the farm. jean was busy at needlework and her brother was reading the newspaper and smoking his pipe. towards eleven o’clock they heard the front door open and slow, heavy footsteps, as of several people, crossing the hall. thinking it might be some of the farm servants, they expected the footsteps to go towards the back premises of the house, where the kitchen was. but instead of that, to their great surprise, they heard them ascending the stairs, heavily, step by step. rather alarmed, they both sprang up and went into the hall, but no one was to be seen—though the front door, which was unlocked, stood wide openand the footsteps went on upstairs. thoroughly mystified, they searched the house, but every room was empty. there was no back staircase, and as they had both distinctly heard the slow, heavy footsteps going up the only staircase that led to the upper part of the house after they were in the hall, they looked very carefully under the beds, and in all the cupboards and niches in the night 273 . they could think of, but there was not a trace of anyone. 4 ' the only thing to be done was to lock up the house and go to bed, as no elucidation of the mystery was forthcoming. soon after jean was in bed she suddenly remembered that they had forgotten to search a certain cupboard at the head of the stairs, but she was much too frightened to get up and explore it by herself, so she lay all the rest of the night in deadly fear that any moment the footsteps might approach her door. feeling braver in the light of morning, she got up early and went to the cupboard, but found it locked on the outside and quite undisturbed. the day wore on, and that evening the brother and sister were again sitting over the fire. it was a very stormy night, and a strong gale swept over the moor. they had been talking over the mysterious event of the night before and trying to account for it, when, to their amazement, they again heard the hall door flung open and the heavy steps come into the hall. determined to find out who the strange visitor could be, they rushed to the door, and were met by two men carrying a stretcher on which lay the body of one of the neighbouring farmers, well known to them both. the men explained that the dead man had been missing since the previous evening, and it was only at ten that night that the search-party had come across his body. it was concluded that, owing to the stormy weather, his horse must have missed its footing and fallen into the river. they s 274 the white ghost book had brought the body to maclean’s farm as being much nearer than his own house, and had knocked, but receiving no answer, on account of the noise made by the gale, had entered. maclean directed that the body should be carried upstairs, and it was borne up slowly step by step by the searchers. as their heavy footsteps, slow and ponderous, ascended the stairs, the brother and sister looked at each other, and as they listened the same thought was in the mind of each, for they knew that the whole scene had been enacted in the house the night before. the unbidden guest standing on the hill overlooking the town of t—— is the beautiful thirteenth century house of l , which, before the reformation, was a hospital of st. john of jerusalem. since its confiscation it has been inhabited by families of k and ci, but is now the property of captain r it contains some good portraits of former owners. most of the rooms are panelled in oak. a chair, said to have been used by james ii. and supposed to be a chair of death and fatal to those who sit in it, is now consigned to the lumber-room. the reputation of the house being “ haunted ” has always clung to it. there is also a tradition that no child has ever been born in the house. in one of the rooms is a small oratory, which overlooks the church and churchyard and is the unbidden guest 275 approached by two steps from the bedroom. this oratory has a cupboard which is supposed to be the entrance to the passage and stairs leading to the dungeons below. some say it leads to the river which runs below the house. this room is called “ the monk’s room.” “ i had a curious experience at this house,” writes a correspondent, “ about six years ago. “ i was invited to be present at the marriage of the only daughter of mr. and mrs. d., who were then occupying the house. after the wedding— which had taken place in the catholic ‘church in the town--the guests assembled in the garden, it being a beautiful, hot summer’s day. “ whilst i was standing on the terrace overlooking the lawn, i saw, walking alone, amongst the guests, the figure of a priest, garbed in a long black cloak piped with red, with hood behind, which he wore over his black cassock. he was a small, thin, dark man with clear-cut features and very dark, ‘ piercing eyes. he came towards me and seemed to compel me to leave the terrace for the lawn below. i obeyed the summons, but as i approached him, he faded away, and although i looked for him amongst the guests, his face being such a peculiar one and his eyes having such a haunting look, i did not see him again. i thought no more of it, supposing him to be one of the priests who had assisted at the marriage, but his face continued to haunt me. “ i was at the house a month or two later, and inquired of my hostess the name of the dark-eyed priest who had been present at the wedding, and was much astonished to hear that there had been only 276 the white ghost book one priest present—one i knew, and whose appearance did not correspond in the least with that of the man i had seen. “ i have been at that house many times since, and also in the oratory room, but i have not seen him any more. “ speaking to a friend of mine on this subject, he said: ‘ i quite believe your story. there must have been some “ spiritual affinity ” for you to have seen him. but what a pity you did not enter into conversation with him. no doubt he wanted to tell you something.’ * * * * * “ another curious thing happened last summer (1915). i had just ordered a new dress when, on august 4th, i had a curious dream that i should have to go into mourning. suddenly, when my maid called me in the morning, i said to her, ‘ i shall have to order some mourning soon.’ she was surprised, and reminded me that i had just arranged to have a coloured gown. ‘ i shall not want it,’ i replied; ‘ i shall have to remain in black for some time ’—and that day i wrote for a black dress to be sent me with all speed. on august 12th i heard of the death of my aunt, and now—december 10th, 1915—i am still in mourning, and likely to remain so, for i have just lost another relative.” some strange experiences miss p. aberigh-miackay, of long melford, suffolk, has always been psychically inclined, and has sent me the following experiences: “ as an art student i held a scholarship which obliged me to teach, for a few hours every day, in the school. i was given a geometry class. i knew very little myself, and was haunted by the thought that i should not get my pupils through their examination—the south kensington examination for the art teacher’s certificate. “ when i awoke on the morning of the examination, i saw on the wall opposite my bed a geometrical problem—all the points of the figure lettered—and it was there all the time i was dressing. i was living then in an art students’ home. on going down to breakfast i told several of the students what i had seen. they laughed and said, ‘ as you are always having second sight, you had better go and teach the problem to your class.’ i said i would. the examination was to be held from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. about 5.30 i collected my class, drew the figure on a board in the class-room, and gave them a lesson on it. at 10.30 one of the students rushed round to see me. she said, ‘ you have saved us all; that question had the very highest marks.’ letter for letter, it was the same as the drawing i had left on the board. i “ i felt a horrible fraud, and to this day i am not sure that i did not behave dishonestly, though, needless to say, i had never seen the papers, and 277 278 the white ghost book \ did not even know who had set them. how i got my information i cannot tell. 1| * * i! * “ i remember having a very curious vision some time ago, while i was sharing a flat in bloomsbury with two friends. i went off one afternoon to teach wood-carving to a class of boys. while i was there, suddenly the room disappeared, and i saw my friend, miss d., looking at a shop window in oxford street at some tea-sets. i knew instinctively that she intended to buy one of them. a moment after, she and the shop disappeared and i was back in the classroom. “ when i got home miss d. said, ‘ you will never guess what i am going to buy.’ i said, ‘ i know,’ and told her what i had seen, when she insisted that i was just thought-reading, and refused to be satisfied till the next day, when i took her to the actual shop and showed her the chosen tea-set. if * * q il l “ i was still living at that flat when i had another experience which made a great impression on me. the flats were residential, and we dined table d’h6te. one evening miss w. and i came in late for dinner and were put at a table with a miss e., who had only just come to live in the place. when we got up, to go to our flat, she asked us to go in and have coffee with her in her rooms, as she was expecting some friends. we had nothing else to do, so accepted the invitation. “ miss e. told us afterwards that she did not know, at that time, which of us was miss w. and the faithful lovers 279 which miss a., and, as the result, her introductions were hazy. among her friends was an old man . with white hair. he very soon fixed his eyes on me in a way which made me uncomfortable; then he suddenly said, ‘you have a spirit standing behind you!’ i giggled stupidly, at which he was very angry, and retorted, ‘ if you can behave yourself, i will tell you what he says. he tells me,’ he then went on, ‘ his name is bert harrison, and that he was very fond of you as a boy. when he grew up he went to canada to learn farming, fell off a haystack, and was killed, and his mouth was filled with blood. he is very sad because you never think of him.’ “ it gave me a shock, as i had known a boy named herbert harrison very well, and he had gone out to canada and been killed about eight years before. i wrote and told my mother, who still corresponded with his sister—and she heard that he was killed and found exactly as described. i had never seen mr. f. before, and he did not at that time know my name. neither had i ever spoken to my friend, miss w., about herbert harrison. as a matter of fact, i am afraid i had forgotten him. if * # ill * “ i spent a year or two in south africa, and was staying in grahamstown when one night i heard myself called by name. i sat up in bed and answered. i heard the voice again and again, and finally got up and opened my door, but there was no one there. though the voice was familiar to me, i could not guess the owner. in the morning 28o the white ghost book i mentioned the incident to the maid who brought my tea. she was quite excited. ‘ oh, miss,’ she said; ‘ you are sure to hear by to-day’s mail that someone you know is dead.’ i also was afraid i should, but i went through all my letters as usual without finding any bad news. a week after, however, i heard from my mother that an uncle, of whom i was very fond, had died, and that all that night, in his delirium, he kept calling to me and worrying because he had missed writing to me that particular mail. he had always written regularly hitherto. 1! * ii! # * “ i had another rather odd experience in that same room. it was on the first floor. i was sitting at a window writing, when i saw a miss m. in the garden, and a few minutes after i called out some remark to her. but, glancing down at the instant, i noticed she was walking with someone—a stranger to me—and i apologised for the intrusion. “ later on, when i went down to tea, she asked me why i had made an apology, and i said, ‘ i thought you were alone when i spoke.’ ‘so i was,’ she replied. i was astonished, and described in detail her companion as i had seen her, even to a little ornament she wore round her neck. miss m. was very upset, and said, ‘ you have described my sister exactly; i hope nothing has happened to her.’ we heard she was quite well, so what the apparition meant i do not know. i had never seen miss m.’s sister, and was not even aware of her existence. , * * * * iii “ years ago, when resident at eastbourne, i had ,a prophetic vision 281 just knelt down by my bedside to say my prayers, when i saw vividly before me the following scene :— “ round the corner of a mountain road came a little procession carrying a coffin. the men were clothed in long, loose garments, with drapery over their shoulders. i saw them and the country as vividly as i have ever seen anything material. when it disappeared, i went downstairs and told my mother and my sister frances. “ several years after i went to kashmir. i recognised it at once as the place i had seen in my vision, and said so to several of my friends. some months after, my sister frances came out to stay with me. i went down to a place called baramula to meet her, and we met on the bank of the shelum. as we came across in a little boat to my house-boat, which was on the opposite side, she looked at the men rowing and said to me, ‘ this is the country of your dream, but the funeral was mine. i shall die here ! ’ i contradicted her, and we often argued on the subject. “ eighteen months later she saw me off. i was going down to india and home for a short time. ‘ i shall never see you again——-remember your dream! ’ were her parting words. and i never did. she went up, across the mountains, to gilgit, and died there. “ i often wonder if it was her funeral or mine, as the gilgit men do not dress exactly as the kashmiris do. i related the story to the roman catholic priest in srinagar. he told me he thought the whole scene was figurative and was meant for my sister. i do not agree with him. =|= =1: * an ' # 282 the white ghost book “ when i go to bed i lie on my back and make my mind a blank, and almost instantly i am off. sometimes i find myself in crowded streets watching the passers-by; sometimes in wonderful scenery. for years i went to the same place—an island somewhere—of which i know every spot. whether it exists on earth or not, i do not know. i am inclined to think it does. “ i feel with training i could go where i willed, but i have never done so yet. i generally indulge in this amusement more when i am in a low state of health. it is a very tiring, though very delightful, occupation. sometimes i lose the power for months, and then it returns suddenly.” psychic influence on animals the following, sent to me by a correspondent, is particularly interesting as showing the susceptibility of animals to psychic influence, of which scores of instances have come to my knowledge. “ early in january, 1916, i was sitting at breakfast with some friends at their house in a certain street in south kensington. my attention was suddenly arrested by the sight of a dray-horse plunging and kicking in a most extraordinary manner, without an apparent cause. “ observing my surprise my hostess remarked, ‘ they are at it again.’ “ ‘ who are at it ? ’ i asked. psychic influence on animals 283 “ ‘ the horses,’ was her reply, and i was then told of a most curious incident connected with the occurrence. “ ‘ twice a year,’ my hostess continued, ‘in this road—indeed, opposite to my h0use—f0r some remarkable reason, the majority come to a standstill, and absolutely refuse to move; one had a seizure and was taken away in a state of collapse, and many exhibit signs of extreme panic and terror. once we were awakened at 6.30 a.m. by the noise and confusion caused by a runaway horse, apparently mad with terror. “ ‘ does this always happen on certain dates?’ i. interposed. “ ‘ almost to a day, and in the months of january and july, for about a fortnight. during the rest of the year everything is normal.’ “ i inquired if any reason could be assigned to these happenings, and was informed that in mediaeval times a monastery had existed at the end of the road, and that its fate was uncertain, but it was generally believed that oliver cromwell had lived for a while in the neighbourhood. “ it would be interesting to trace the connection further. is it possible that some of the roundhead leaders’ horses passed that way to or from the various battles and engagements of that stormy period, leaving perchance an impression of their influence on the spot, or that the spirit of oliver cromwell * appears on stated dates corresponding with his * the ghost of oliver cromwell is also supposed to haunt a house close to the marble arch, and is said to have been seen frequently.--j. a. m. 284 the white ghost book connection with the vicinity. be that as it may, the apparitions seem to be only visible to horses, and in no way affecting any human being.” the unhappy housemaid a correspondent has sent me the following story, which raises several interesting questions: “ last autumn the housemaid at a comparatively new house was about to retire for the night when she became aware of a figure crossing the hall, as though to pass on into the dining-room which at the moment was in darkness and quite empty. “ thinking the figure to be that of a fellowservant, on account of a white apron tied with long strings at the back, she called her by name, but on receiving no reply she turned to go up another flight of stairs to her bedroom. she then met the servant she had supposed to be downstairs in the hall. the latter declared that she had never left the upper part of the house for the last hour, and that the maid must have mistaken a reflection from a window in the next house for herself. “ both soon forgot the episode, till its memory was renewed by an uncanny happening to one of the members of the family. “ soon after six o’clock one dark .morning she was lying in bed half awake and half asleep, when the door opened suddenly to admit a strange servant, the unhappy housemaid 285 whose salient characteristic was a white apron with long strings. “ the stranger then walked towards the window, and finally seemed to vanish into the wall. “ a day or two later a visitor noticed an unknown maid twice on the stairs, and another time in a different part of the house, but of late there has been no reappearance of this phantom. “ little light can be thrown on the subject, except that, on piecing together some scanty evidence, i have come to the conclusion that the repeated mysterious visitation was that of a woman still living who had gone through a time of most grievous trouble while in the service of a previous family who had left the house about two years before her seeming double walked the stairs and passages so persistently.” told by a canon the following story of a weird experience was related by a well known canon to a" friend of mine, and i have had permission from the former to include it in this book, provided that i give only fictitious names, or initials. canon x. was invited to stay with old friends of his at a country house in hampshire at which he had often stayed before. he arrived about a quarter-past four, and was received by his hostess, an elderly lady, and had tea in the library before a blazing fire. 286 the white ghost book after tea his hostess said: “ i have given you your old room, and your luggage has been taken up there, if you would care to unpack. there is no need to show you the way—is there ? ” canon x. laughed and thanked her, and said he knew the way quite well. after chatting a few minutes longer he said he would go and unpack, and he went, quite alone, up the wide, old-fashioned staircase that led to the part of the house where the bedroom he usually occupied was situated. he walked along the familiar landing and went up to the door of the room. when he opened the door the first thing he saw was his hostess, standing by his luggage. “ how in the world did you get up ? ” said the astonished clergyman; but even as he said the words she disappeared. terrified that the vision meant that something had happened to her since he left the library, canon x. hastened downstairs and into the library, fearing that he might find mrs. —— dead; but there she sat, reading tranquilly and looking just as she had done when he had left her. seeing how agitated he was, mrs. asked him what was the matter. being unwilling to alarm her he began to stammer out some excuse for his sudden return, when she said: “ don’t say you’ve seen me! it’s always happening ! ” then, to his amazement, she explained that the extraordinary thing he had just experienced happened constantly to her guests, and was well known to most of them, told by a canon 287 “ i can only explain it,” she concluded, “ by the fact that i am very anxious for their comfort—so anxious that my astral body detaches itself and does what i, in my earthly body, am wishing to do, that is to say, personally superintend every detail of the arrangements for my guests’ reception and entertainment. this particular instance has interested me very much, because i have never been seen in that room before, though often in rooms on the same landing. curiously enough, i have never been seen on the higher landing, though many of the guests i was most anxious to honour have occupied rooms on it.” pam-ran mr csssru. & counmv, limited, l1. bell! saunas, lomaon, e.c. f 15.416 university of california library _ i los angeles _ this book is due on the last date 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". md nsis un kaiversi) mocccxx a book of ghosts by the same author the life of napoleon bonaparte the tragedy of the cæsars the desert of southern france strange survivals songs of the west a garland of country song old country life yorkshire oddities historic oddities old english fairy tales an old english home the vicar of morwenstow freaks of fanaticism a book of fairy tales a book of brittany a book of dartmoor a book of the west a book of north wales 2./wsy smith "who are you?" a book of ghosts by s. baring-gould, m.a. folklor with eight illustrations by d. murray smith methuen & co. 36 essex street w.c. london na 768297 p. r4061 b7 mon first published, 1904 indiana university library 512-58 s250 preface ome of the stories in this volume have already appeared in print. “the red-haired girl” in the windsor magazine ; “colonel halifax's ghost story" in the illustrated english magazine ; “glámr” i told in my iceland: its scenes and sagas, published in 1863, and long ago out of print. “the bold venture" appeared in the graphic; “the 9.30 up-train" as long ago as 1853 in once a week. contents . · . . · . . · . . · . . · . . · . . · . . · . . · . · . jean bouchon . pomps and vanities mcalister the leaden ring the mother of pansies the red-haired girl . a professional secret . h. p. . . glámr , colonel halifax's ghost story the merewigs . . the “bold venture" mustapha little joe gander a dead finger black ram : a happy release the 9.30 up-train on the leads aunt joanna . the white flag · . · . · . · . · . · . · . · . 327 · . · 341 353 367 . · . list of illustrations “who are you?” . . . . frontispiece " then the bride put back her veil, and betty, studying the white face, saw that this actually was not herself; it was her dead sister letice” . . . . to face page 41 "her hat was blown off, and next instant a detonation rang through her head as though a gun had been fired into her ear” . . . . . . 65 "if he went out for a walk they trotted forth with him, some before, some following” . . . . . 126 “ you let that mustapha come in, and try and stick his knife into me" · · · · · 244 “mammy!' said he ; 'mammy! my violin cost me three shillings and sixpence, and i can't make it play no. ways'” . . “i believe that they are talking goody-goody” . . „ „ “she thrust her hand into the teapot and drew forth thecoins, one by one, and rolled them along the table” , , 362 a book of ghosts jean bouchon i was in orléans a good many years ago. at the 1 time it was my purpose to write a life of joan of arc, and i considered it advisable to visit the scenes of her exploits, so as to be able to give to my narrative some local colour. but i did not find orléans answer to my expectations. it is a dull town, very modern in appearance, but with that measly and decrepit look which is so general in french towns. there was a place jeanne d'arc, with an equestrian statue of her in the midst, flourishing a banner. there was the house that the maid had occupied after the taking of the city, but, with the exception of the walls and rafters, it had undergone so much alteration and modernisation as to have lost its interest. a museum of memorials of la pucelle had been formed, but possessed no genuine relics, only arms and tapestries of a later date. the city walls she had besieged, the gate through which she had burst, had been levelled, and their places taken by boulevards. the very cathedral in which she had knelt to return thanks for her victory was not the same. that had been blown up by the huguenots, and the cathedral that now stands was erected on its ruins in 1601. there was an ormolu figure of jeanne on the clocknever wound up-upon the mantelshelf in my room at the hotel, and there were chocolate figures of her in the a book of ghosts confectioners' shop-windows for children to suck. when i sat down at 7 p.m, to table d'hôte, at my inn, i was out of heart. the result of my exploration of sites had been unsatisfactory; but i trusted on the morrow to be able to find material to serve my purpose in the municipal archives of the town library. my dinner ended, i sauntered to a café. that i selected opened on to the place, but there was a back entrance near to my hotel, leading through a long, stone-paved passage at the back of the houses in the street, and by ascending three or four stone steps one entered the long, well-lighted café. i came into it from the back by this means, and not from the front. i took my place and called for a café-cognac. then i picked up a french paper and proceeded to read it—all but the feuilleton. in my experience i have never yet come across anyone who reads the feuilletons in a french paper; and my impression is that these snippets of novel are printed solely for the purpose of filling up space and disguising the lack of news at the disposal of the editors. the french papers borrow their information relative to foreign affairs largely from the english journals, so that they are a day behind ours in the foreign news that they publish. whilst i was engaged in reading, something caused me to look up, and i noticed standing by the white marbletopped table, on which was my coffee, a waiter, with a pale face and black whiskers, in an expectant attitude. i was a little nettled at his precipitancy in applying for payment, but i put it down to my being a total stranger there; and without a word i set down half a franc and a ten centimes coin, the latter as his pourboire. then i proceeded with my reading. i think a quarter of an hour had elapsed, when i rose to depart, and then, to my surprise, i noticed the half-franc still on the table, but the sous piece was gone. jean bouchon i beckoned to a waiter, and said: “one of you came to me a little while ago demanding payment. i think he was somewhat hasty in pressing for it; however, i set the money down, and the fellow has taken the tip, and has neglected the charge for the coffee.” "sapristi !” exclaimed the garçon ; " jean bouchon has been at his tricks again." i said nothing further; asked no questions. the matter did not concern me, or indeed interest me in the smallest degree; and i left. next day i worked hard in the town library. i cannot say that i lighted on any unpublished documents that might serve my purpose. i had to go through the controversial literature relative to whether jeanne d'arc was burnt or not, for it has been maintained that a person of the same name, and also of arques, died a natural death some time later, and who postured as the original warrior-maid. i read a good many monographs on the pucelle, of various values ; some real contributions to history, others mere second-hand cookings-up of well-known and often-used material. the sauce in these latter was all that was new. in the evening, after dinner, i went back to the same café and called for black coffee with a nip of brandy. i drank it leisurely, and then retreated to the desk where i could write some letters. i had finished one, and was folding it, when i saw the same pale-visaged waiter standing by with his hand extended for payment. i put my hand into my pocket, pulled out a fifty centimes piece and a coin of two sous, and placed both beside me, near the man, and proceeded to put my letter in an envelope, which i then directed. next i wrote a second letter, and that concluded, i rose to go to one of the tables and to call for stamps, when . i noticed that again the silver coin had been left untouched, but the copper piece had been taken away. a book of ghosts i tapped for a waiter. “ tiens,” said i, “ that fellow of yours has been bungling again. he has taken the tip and has left the half-franc.” “ah! jean bouchon once more!” “but who is jean bouchon?” the man shrugged his shoulders, and, instead of answering my query, said: "i should recommend monsieur to refuse to pay jean bouchon again—that is, supposing monsieur intends revisiting this café.” "i most assuredly will not pay such a noodle," i said ; “and it passes my comprehension how you can keep such a fellow on your staff.” i revisited the library next day, and then walked by the loire, that rolls in winter such a full and turbid stream, and in summer, with a reduced flood, exposes gravel and sand-banks. i wandered around the town, and endeavoured vainly to picture it, enclosed by walls and drums of towers, when on april 29th, 1429, jeanne threw herself into the town and forced the english to retire, discomfited and perplexed. in the evening i revisited the café and made my wants known as before. then i looked at my notes, and began to arrange them. whilst thus engaged i observed the waiter, named jean bouchon, standing near the table in an expectant attitude as before. i now looked him full in the face and observed his countenance. he had puffy white cheeks, small black eyes, thick dark mutton-chop whiskers, and a broken nose. he was decidedly an ugly man, but not a man with a repulsive expression of face. "no," said i, “i will give you nothing. i will not pay you. send another garçon to me." as i looked at him to see how he took this refusal, he seemed to fall back out of my range, or, to be more exact, the lines of his form and features became confused. it was much as though i had been gazing on a reflection in jean bouchon cry. still water; that something had ruffled the surface, and all was broken up and obliterated. i could see him no more. i was puzzled and a bit startled, and i rapped my coffeecup with the spoon to call the attention of a waiter. one sprang to me immediately. “see !” said i, “ jean bouchon has been here again ; i told him that i would not pay him one sou, and he has vanished in a most perplexing manner. i do not see him in the room." “no, he is not in the room.” “when he comes in again, send him to me. i want to have a word with him.” the waiter looked confused, and replied : “i do not think that jean will return." “how long has he been on your staff ?” “oh! he has not been on our staff for some years." “then why does he come here and ask for payment for coffee and what else one may order?" “he never takes payment for anything that has been consumed. he takes only the tips." “but why do you permit him to do that?" “we cannot help ourselves.” “he should not be allowed to enter the café.” “no one can keep him out." “this is surpassing strange. he has no right to the tips. you should communicate with the police." the waiter shook his head. “they can do nothing. jean bouchon died in 1869." “died in 1869 !" i repeated. "it is so. but he still comes here. he never pesters the old customers, the inhabitants of the town-only visitors, strangers." “tell me all about him.” “monsieur must pardon me now. we have many in the place, and i have my duties.” “in that case i will drop in here to-morrow morning a book of ghosts when you are disengaged, and i will ask you to inform me about him. what is your name?" "at monsieur's pleasure-alphonse." next morning, in place of pursuing the traces of the maid of orléans, i went to the café to hunt up jean bouchon. i found alphonse with a duster wiping down the tables. i invited him to a table and made him sit down opposite me. i will give his story in substance, only where advisable recording his exact words. jean bouchon had been a waiter at this particular café. now in some of these establishments the attendants are wont to have a box, into which they drop all the tips that are received ; and at the end of the week it is opened, and the sum found in it is divided pro rata among the waiters, the head waiter receiving a larger portion than the others. this is not customary in all such places of refreshment, but it is in some, and it was so in this café. the average is pretty constant, except on special occasions, as when a fête occurs; and the waiters know within a few francs what their perquisites will be but in the café where served jean bouchon the sum did not reach the weekly total that might have been anticipated; and after this deficit had been noted for a couple of months the waiters were convinced that there was something wrong, somewhere or somehow. either the common box was tampered with, or one of them did not put in his tips received. a watch was set, and it was discovered that jean bouchon was the defaulter. when he had received a gratuity, he went to the box, and pretended to put in the coin, but no sound followed, as would have been the case had one been dropped in.. there ensued, of course, a great commotion among the waiters when this was discovered. jean bouchon endeavoured to brave it out, but the patron was appealed to, the case stated, and he was dismissed. as he left by the back entrance, one of the younger garçons put out his leg jean bouchon and tripped bouchon up, so that he stumbled and fell headlong down the steps with a crash on the stone floor of the passage. he fell with such violence on his forehead that he was taken up insensible. his bones were fractured, there was concussion of the brain, and he died within a few hours without recovering consciousness. “we were all very sorry and greatly shocked,” said alphonse ; “we did not like the man, he had dealt dishonourably by us, but we wished him no ill, and our resentment was at an end when he was dead. the waiter who had tripped him up was arrested, and was sent to prison for some months, but the accident was due to une mauvaise plaisanterie and no malice was in it, so that the young fellow got off with a light sentence. he afterwards married a widow with a café at vierzon, and is there, i believe, doing well. "jean bouchon was buried,” continued alphonse ; "and we waiters attended the funeral and held white kerchiefs to our eyes. our head waiter even put a lemon into his, that by squeezing it he might draw tears from his eyes. we all subscribed for the interment, that it should be dignified-majestic as becomes a waiter.” “and do you mean to tell me that jean bouchon has haunted this café ever since ?" “ever since 1869," replied alphonse. “and there is no way of getting rid of him?" “none at all, monsieur. one of the canons of bourges came in here one evening. we did suppose that jean bouchon would not approach, molest an ecclesiastic, but he did. he took his pourboire and left the rest, just as he treated monsieur. ah! monsieur ! but jean bouchon did well in 1870 and 1871 when those pigs of prussians were here in occupation. the officers came nightly to our café, and jean bouchon was greatly on the alert. he must have carried away half of the gratuities they offered. it was a sad loss to us.” y of gettil of the canpose thatic, but e did sun eccles. just as hide 8 a book of ghosts “this is a very extraordinary story," said i. “but it is true," replied alphonse. next day i left orléans. i gave up the notion of writing the life of joan of arc, as i found that there was absolutely no new material to be gleaned on her history-in fact, she had been thrashed out. years passed, and i had almost forgotten about jean bouchon, when, the other day, i was in orléans once more, on my way south, and at once the whole story recurred to me. i went that evening to the same café. it had been smartened up since i was there before. there was more plate glass, more gilding; electric light had been introduced, there were more mirrors, and there were also ornaments that had not been in the café before. i called for café-cognac and looked at a journal, but turned my eyes on one side occasionally, on the look-out for jean bouchon. but he did not put in an appearance. i waited for a quarter of an hour in expectation, but saw no sign of him. presently i summoned a waiter, and when he came up i inquired : “but where is jean bouchon?” "monsieur asks after jean bouchon?” the man looked surprised. “yes, i have seen him here previously. where is he at present?" “monsieur has seen jean bouchon ? monsieur perhaps knew him. he died in 1869." "i know that he died in 1869, but i made his acquaintance in 1874. i saw him then thrice, and he accepted some small gratuities of me." "monsieur tipped jean bouchon?” “yes, and jean bouchon accepted my tips." “ tiens, and jean bouchon died five years before.” “yes, and what i want to know is how you have rid yourselves of jean bouchon, for that you have cleared the jean bouchon place of him is evident, or he would have been pestering me this evening." the man looked disconcerted and irresolute. "hold,” said i ; "is alphonse here?” “no, monsieur, alphonse has left two or three years ago. and monsieur saw jean bouchon in 1874. i was not then here. i have been here only six years." "but you can in all probability inform me of the manner of getting quit of jean." "monsieur ! i am very busy this evening, there are so many gentlemen come in." “i will give you five francs if you will tell me all-allsuccinctly about jean bouchon.” “will monsieur be so good as to come here to-morrow during the morning ? and then i place myself at the disposition of monsieur.” “i shall be here at eleven o'clock.” at the appointed time i was at the café. if there is an institution that looks ragged and dejected and dissipated, it is a café in the morning, when the chairs are turned upside-down, the waiters are in aprons and shirt-sleeves, and a smell of stale tobacco lurks about the air, mixed with various other unpleasant odours. the waiter i had spoken to on the previous evening was looking out for me. i made him seat himself at a table with me. no one else was in the saloon except another garçon, who was dusting with a long feather-brush. "monsieur," began the waiter, “i will tell you the whole truth. the story is curious, and perhaps everyone would not believe it, but it is well documentée. jean bouchon was at one time in service here. we had a box. when i say we, i do not mean myself included, for i was not here at the time.” "i know about the common box. i know the story down to my visit to orléans in 1874, when i saw the man." “monsieur has perhaps been informed that he was buried in the cemetery?" 10 a book of ghosts “i do know that, at the cost of his fellow-waiters." “well, monsieur, he was poor, and his fellow-waiters, though well-disposed, were not rich. so he did not have a grave en perpétuité. accordingly, after many years, when the term of consignment was expired, and it might well be supposed that jean bouchon had mouldered away, his grave was cleared out to make room for a fresh occupant. then a very remarkable discovery was made. it was found that his corroded coffin was crammedliterally stuffed—with five and ten centimes pieces, and with them were also some german coins, no doubt received from those pigs of prussians during the occupation of orléans. this discovery was much talked about. our proprietor of the café and the head waiter went to the mayor and represented to him how matters stood—that all this money had been filched during a series of years since 1869 from the waiters. and our patron represented to him that it should in all propriety and justice be restored to us. the mayor was a man of intelligence and heart, and he quite accepted this view of the matter, and ordered the surrender of the whole coffin-load of coins to us, the waiters of the café." “so you divided it amongst you." “pardon, monsieur ; we did not. it is true that the money might legitimately be regarded as belonging to us. but then those defrauded, or most of them, had left long ago, and there were among us some who had not been in service in the café more than a year or eighteen months. we could not trace the old waiters. some were dead, some had married and left this part of the country. we were not a corporation. so we held a meeting to discuss what was to be done with the money. we feared, moreover, that unless the spirit of jean bouchon were satisfied, he might continue revisiting the café and go on sweeping away the tips. it was of paramount importance to please jean bouchon, to lay out the money in such a manner as would commend itself to his feelings. one suggested one jean bouchon ii thing, one another. one proposed that the sum should be expended on masses for the repose of jean's soul. but the head waiter objected to that. he said that he thought he knew the mind of jean bouchon, and that this would not commend itself to it. he said, did our head waiter, that he knew jean bouchon from head to heels. and he proposed that all the coins should be melted up, and that out of them should be cast a statue of jean bouchon in bronze, to be set up here in the café, as there were not enough coins to make one large enough to be erected in a place. if monsieur will step with me he will see the statue ; it is a superb work of art.” he led the way, and i followed. in the midst of the café stood a pedestal, and on this basis a bronze figure about four feet high. it represented a man reeling backward, with a banner in his left hand, and the right raised towards his brow, as though he had been struck there by a bullet. a sabre, apparently fallen from his grasp, lay at his feet. i studied the face, and it most assuredly was utterly unlike jean bouchon with his puffy cheeks, mutton-chop whiskers, and broken nose, as i recalled him. “but,” said i, “the features do not-pardon me—at all resemble those of jean bouchon. this might be the young augustus, or napoleon i. the profile is quite greek.” " it may be so," replied the waiter. “but we had no photograph to go by. we had to allow the artist to exercise his genius, and, above all, we had to gratify the spirit of jean bouchon.” “i see. but the attitude is inexact. jean bouchon fell down the steps headlong, and this represents a man staggering backwards." “it would have been inartistic to have shown him precipitated forwards; besides, the spirit of jean might not have liked it.” “quite so. i understand. but the flag ?” 169297 12 a book of ghosts “that was an idea of the artist. jean could not be made holding a coffee-cup. you will see the whole makes a superb subject. art has its exigencies. monsieur will see underneath is an inscription on the pedestal.” i stooped, and with some astonishment read“jean bouchon mort sur le champ de gloire 1870 dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.” hopic and ma but dispute he sentiean bouche house to "why!” objected i, “he died from falling a cropper in the back passage, not on the field of glory.” "monsieur ! all orléans is a field of glory. under s. aignan did we not repel attila and his huns in 451 ? under jeanne d'arc did we not repulse the englishmonsieur will excuse the allusion-in 1429. did we not recapture orléans from the germans in november, 1870?” “that is all very true," i broke in. “but jean bouchon neither fought against attila nor with la pucelle, nor against the prussians. then ‘dulce et decoruin est pro patria mori' is rather strong, considering the facts." "how? does not monsieur see that the sentiment is patriotic and magnificent ? ” “i admit that, but dispute the application." " then why apply it? the sentiment is all right.” “but by implication it refers to jean bouchon, who died, not for his country, but in a sordid coffee-house brawl. then, again, the date is wrong. jean bouchon died in 1869, not in 1870." “that is only out by a year.” “yes, but with this mistake of a year, and with the quotation from horace, and with the attitude given to the figure, anyone would suppose that jean bouchon had fallen in the retaking of orléans from the prussians.” “ah! monsieur, who looks on a monument and expects to find thereon the literal truth relative to the deceased ?" jean bouchon 13 demurred. le more heroic ined the waiter, “this is something of a sacrifice to truth,” i demurred. “sacrifice is superb!” said the waiter. “there is nothing more noble, more heroic than sacrifice.” “but not the sacrifice of truth.” “sacrifice is always sacrifice." “well,” said i, unwilling further to dispute, “this is certainly a great creation out of nothing." “not out of nothing; out of the coppers that jean bouchon had filched from us, and which choked up his coffin.” “ jean bouchon has been seen no more?" “no, monsieur. and yet-yes, once, when the statue was unveiled. our patron did that. the café was crowded. all our habitués were there. the patron made a magnificent oration; he drew a superb picture of the moral, intellectual, social, and political merits of jean bouchon. there was not a dry eye among the audience, and the speaker choked with emotion. then, as we stood in a ring, not too near, we saw-i was there and i distinctly saw, so did the others— jean bouchon standing with his back to us, looking intently at the statue of himself. monsieur, as he thus stood i could discern his black mutton-chop whiskers projecting upon each side of his head. well, sir, not one word was spoken. a dead silence fell upon all. our patron ceased to speak, and wiped his eyes and blew his nose. a sort of holy awe possessed us all. then, after the lapse of some minutes, jean bouchon turned himself about, and we all saw his puffy pale cheeks, his thick sensual lips, his broken nose, his little pig's eyes. he was very unlike his idealised portrait in the statue ; but what matters that? it gratified the deceased, and it injured no one. well, monsieur, jean bouchon stood facing us, and he turned his head from one side to another, and gave us all what i may term a greasy smile. then he lifted up his hands as though invoking a blessing on us all, and vanished. since then he has not been seen.” pomps and vanities olonel mountjoy had an appointment in india that kept him there permanently. consequently he was constrained to send his two daughters to england when they were quite children. his wife had died of cholera at madras. the girls were letice and betty. there was a year's difference in their ages, but they were extraordinarily alike, so much so that they might have been supposed to be twins. letice was given up to the charge of miss mountjoy, her father's sister, and betty to that of lady lacy, her maternal aunt. their father would have preferred that his daughters should have been together, but there were difficulties in the way; neither of the ladies was inclined to be burdened with both, and if both had been placed with one the other might have regarded and resented this as a slight. as the children grew up their likeness in feature became more close, but they diverged exceedingly in expression. a sullenness, an unhappy look, a towering fire of resentment characterised that of letice, whereas the face of betty was open and gay. this difference was due to the difference in their bringing up. lady lacy, who had a small house in north devon, was a kindly, intellectual, and broad-minded old lady, of sweet disposition but a decided will. she saw a good deal of society, and did her best to train betty to be an educated and liberal-minded woman of culture and gracepomps and vanities 15 ful manners. she did not send her to school, but had her taught at home; and on the excuse that her eyes were weak by artificial light she made the girl read to her in the evenings, and always read books that were standard and calculated to increase her knowledge and to develop her understanding. lady lacy detested all shams, and under her influence betty grew up to be thoroughly straightforward, healthy-minded, and true. on the other hand, miss mountjoy was, as letice called her, a killjoy. she had herself been reared in the midst of the clapham sect; had become rigid in all her ideas, narrow in all her sympathies, and a bundle of prejudices. the present generation of young people know nothing of the system of repression that was exercised in that of their fathers and mothers. now the tendency is wholly in the other direction, and too greatly so. it is possibly due to a revulsion of feeling against a training that is looked back upon with a shudder. to that narrow school there existed but two categories of men and women, the christians and the worldlings, and those who pertained to it arrogated to themselves the former title. the judgment had already begun with the severance of the sheep from the goats, and the saints who judged the world had their jerusalem at clapham. in that school the works of the great masters of english literature, shakespeare, pope, scott, byron, were taboo ; no work of imagination was tolerated save the apocalypse, and that was degraded into a polemic by such scribblers as elliot and cumming. no entertainments, not even the oratorios of handel, were tolerated; they savoured of the world. the nearest approach to excitement was found in a missionary meeting. the chinese contract the feet of their daughters, but those english claphamites cramped the minds of their children. the venetians made use of an iron prison, with gradually contracting walls, that finally crushed the life 16 a book of ghosts out of the captive. but these elect christians put their sons and daughters into a school that squeezed their energies and their intelligences to death. dickens caricatured such people in mrs. jellyby and mr. chadband; but he sketched them only in their external aspect, and left untouched their private action in distorting young minds, maiming their wills, damping down all youthful buoyancy. but the result did not answer the expectations of those who adopted this system with the young. some daughters, indeed, of weaker wills were permanently stunted and shaped on the approved model, but nearly all the sons, and most of the daughters, on obtaining their freedom, broke away into utter frivolity and dissipation, or, if they retained any religious impressions, galloped through the church of england, performing strange antics on the way, and plunged into the arms of rome. such was the system to which the high-spirited, strongwilled letice was subjected, and from which was no escape. the consequence was that letice tossed and bit at her chains, and that there ensued frequent outbreaks of resentment against her aunt. "oh, aunt hannah! i want something to read.” after some demur, and disdainful rejection of more serious works, she was allowed milton. then she said, “oh! i do love comus.” “comus!" gasped miss mountjoy. “and l’allegro and il penseroso, they are not bad.” “my child. these were the compositions of the immortal bard before his eyes were opened.” "i thought, aunt, that he had dictated the paradise lost and regained after he was blind.” “i refer to the eyes of his soul," said the old lady sternly. “i want a story-book.” “there is the dairyman's daughter." “i have read it, and hate it." pomps and vanities 17 “i fear, leticia, that you are in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity.” unhappily the sisters very rarely met one another. it was but occasionally that lady lacy and betty came to town, and when they did, miss mountjoy put as many difficulties as she could in the way of their associating together. on one such visit to london, lady lacy called and asked if she might take letice with herself to the theatre. miss mountjoy shivered with horror, reared herself, and expressed her opinion of stage-plays and those who went to see them in strong and uncomplimentary terms. as she had the custody of letice, she would by no persuasion be induced to allow her to imperil her soul by going to such a wicked place. lady lacy was fain to withdraw in some dismay and much regret. poor letice, who had heard this offer made, had flashed into sudden brightness and a tremor of joy; when it was refused, she burst into a flood of tears and an ecstasy of rage. she ran up to her room, and took and tore to pieces a volume of clayton's sermons, scattered the leaves over the floor, and stamped upon them. “letice," said miss mountjoy, when she saw the devastation, "you are a child of wrath.” “why mayn't i go where there is something pretty to see? why may i not hear good music? why must i be kept forever in the doleful dumps?”. "because all these things are of the world, worldly." “ if god hates all that is fair and beautiful, why did he create the peacock, the humming-bird, and the bird of paradise, instead of filling the world with barn-door fowls?" “ you have a carnal mind. you will never go to heaven.” “lucky 1-if the saints there do nothing but hold missionary meetings to convert one another. pray what else can they do?” “they are engaged in the worship of god.” 18 a book of ghosts “i don't know what that means. all i am acquainted with is the worship of the congregation. at salem chapel the minister faces it, mouths at it, gesticulates to it, harangues, flatters, fawns at it, and, indeed, prays at it. if that be all, heaven must be a deadly dull hole.” miss mountjoy reared herself, she became livid with wrath. “you wicked girl.” “aunt,” said letice, intent on further incensing her, “i do wish you would let me go—just for once-to a catholic church to see what the worship of god is.” "i would rather see you dead at my feet!” exclaimed the incensed lady, and stalked, rigid as a poker, out of the room. thus the unhappy girl grew up to woman's estate, her heart seething with rebellion. and then a terrible thing occurred. she caught scarlet fever, which took an unfavourable turn, and her life was despaired of. miss mountjoy was not one to conceal from the girl that her days were few, and her future condition hopeless. letice fought against the idea of dying so young. “oh, aunt! i won't die! i can't die! i have seen nothing of the pomps and vanities. i want to just taste them, and know what they are like. oh! save me, make the doctor give me something to revive me. i want the pomps and vanities, oh! so much. i will not, i cannot die !” but her will, her struggle, availed nothing, and she passed away into the great unseen. miss mountjoy wrote a formal letter to her brother, who had now become a general, to inform him of the lamented decease of his eldest daughter. it was not a comforting letter. it dwelt unnecessarily on the faults of letice, it expressed no hopes as to her happiness in the world to which she had passed. there had been no signs of resignation at the last; no turning from the world with its pomps and vanities to better things, only a vain longing after what pomps and vanities 19 she could not have; a bitter resentment against providence for having denied them to her; and a steeling of her heart against good and pious influences, a year had passed. lady lacy had come to town along with her niece. a dear friend had placed her house at her disposal. she had herself gone to dresden with her daughters to finish them off in music and german. lady lacy was very glad of the occasion, for betty was now of an age to be brought out. there was to be a great ball at the house of the countess of belgrove, unto whom lady lacy was related, and at the ball betty was to make her début. the girl was in a condition of boundless excitement. a beautiful ball-dress of white satin, trimmed with rich valenciennes lace, was laid over her chair for her to wear. neat little white satin shoes stood on the floor, quite new, for her feet. in a flower-glass stood a red camellia that was destined to adorn her hair, and on the dressing-table, in a morocco case, was a pearl necklace that had belonged to her mother. the maid did her hair, but the camellia, which was to be the only point of colour about her, except her rosy lips and flushed cheeks—that camellia was not to be put into her hair till the last minute. the maid offered to help her to dress. “no, thank you, martha ; i can do that perfectly well myself. i am accustomed to use my own hands, and i can take my own time about it." “but really, miss, i think you should allow me." “indeed, indeed, no. there is plenty of time, and i shall go leisurely to work. when the carriage comes just tap at the door and tell me, and i will rejoin my aunt.” when the maid was gone, betty locked her door. she lighted the candles beside the cheval-glass, and looked at herself in the rnirror and laughed. for the first time, with glad surprise and innocent pleasure, she realised 20 a book of ghosts how pretty she was. and pretty she was indeed, with her pleasant face, honest eyes, finely arched brows, and twinkling smile that produced dimples in her cheeks. "there is plenty of time," she said. “i shan't take a hundred years in dressing now that my hair is done." she yawned. a great heaviness had come over her. "i really think i shall have a nap first. i am dead sleepy now, and forty winks will set me up for the night.” then she laid herself upon the bed. a numbing, overpowering lethargy weighed on her, and almost at once she sank into a dreamless sleep. so unconscious was she that she did not hear martha's tap at the door nor the roll of the carriage as it took her aunt away. she woke with a start. it was full day. for some moments she did not realise this fact, nor that she was still dressed in the gown in which she had lain down the previous evening. she rose in dismay. she had slept so soundly that she had missed the ball. she rang her bell and unlocked the door. “what, miss, up already?” asked the maid, coming in with a tray on which were tea and bread and butter. "yes, martha. oh! what will aunt say? i have slept so long and like a log, and never went to the ball. why did you not call me?" "please, miss, you have forgotten. you went to the ball last night." "no; i did not. i overslept myself.” the maid smiled. “if i may be so bold as to say so, i think, miss betty, you are dreaming still." “no; i did not go." the maid took up the satin dress. it was crumpled, the lace was a little torn, and the train showed unmistakable signs of having been drawn over a floor. she then held up the shoes. they had been worn, and well worn, as if danced in all night. pomps and vanities 21 “look here, miss; here is your programme! why, deary me! you must have had a lot of dancing. it is quite full." betty looked at the programme with dazed eyes; then at the camellia. it had lost some of its petals, and these had not fallen on the toilet-cover. where were they? what was the meaning of this? “martha, bring me my hot water, and leave me alone.” betty was sorely perplexed. there were evidences that her dress had been worn. the pearl necklace was in the case, but not as she had left it-outside. she bathed her head in cold water. she racked her brain. she could not recall the smallest particular of the ball. she perused the programme. a light colour came into her cheek as she recognised the initials “c. f.,” those of captain charles fontanel, of whom of late she had seen a good deal. other characters expressed nothing to her mind. “how very strange !” she said ; "and i was lying on the bed in the dress i had on yesterday evening. i cannot explain it." twenty minutes later, betty went downstairs and entered the breakfast-room. lady lacy was there. she went up to her aunt and kissed her. “i am so sorry that i overslept myself,” she said. “i was like one of the seven sleepers.” "my dear, i should not have minded if you had not come down till midday. after a first ball you must be tired." “i meant-last night.” "how, last night?" “i mean when i went to dress.” “oh, you were punctual enough. when i was ready you were already in the hall.” the bewilderment of the girl grew apace. “i am sure," said her aunt, “you enjoyed yourself. but you gave the lion's share of the dances to captain fontanel. 22 a book of ghosts if this had been at exeter, it would have caused talk; but here you are known only to a few; however, lady belgrove observed it.” “i hope you are not very tired, auntie darling," said betty, to change slightly the theme that perplexed her. "nothing to speak of. i like to go to a ball; it recalls my old dancing days. but i thought you looked white and fagged all the evening. perhaps it was excitement.” as soon as breakfast was concluded, betty escaped to her room. a fear was oppressing her. the only explanation of the mystery was that she had been to the dance in her sleep. she was a somnambulist. what had she said and done when unconscious ? what a dreadful thing it would have been had she woke up in the middle of a dance! she must have dressed herself, gone to lady belgrove's, danced all night, returned, taken off her dress, put on her afternoon tea-gown, lain down and concluded her sleep-all in one long tract of unconsciousness. “by the way,” said her aunt next day, “i have taken tickets for carmen, at her majesty's. you would like to go ?” "oh, delighted, aunt. i know some of the music-of course, the toreador song ; but i have never heard the whole opera. it will be delightful.” “and you are not too tired to go?" “no-ten thousand times, no-i shall love to see it." “what dress will you go in?”. “i think my black, and put a rose in my hair." “that will do very well. the black becomes you. i think you could not do better." betty was highly delighted. she had been to plays, never to a real opera in the evening, dinner was early, unnecessarily early, and betty knew that it would not take her long to dress, so she went into the little conservatory and seated herself pomps and vanities 23 there. the scent of the heliotropes was strong. betty called them cherry-pie. she had got the libretto, and she looked it over; but as she looked, her eyes closed, and without being aware that she was going to sleep, in a moment she was completely unconscious. she woke, feeling stiff and cold. “goodness!” said she, “i hope i am not late. whywhat is that light?” the glimmer of dawn shone in at the conservatory windows. much astonished, she left it. the hall, the staircase were dark. she groped her way to her room, and switched on the electric light. before her lay her black-and-white muslin dress on the bed; on the table were her white twelve-button gloves folded about her fan. she took them up, and below them, somewhat crumpled, lay the play-bill, scented. “how very unaccountable this is,” she said; and removing the dress, seated herself on the bed and thought. “why did they turn out the lights ?” she asked herself, then sprang to her feet, switched off the electric current, and saw that actually the morning light was entering the room. she resumed her seat; put her hands to her brow. "it cannot-it cannot be that this dreadful thing has happened again.” presently she heard the servants stirring. she hastily undressed and retired between the sheets, but not to sleep. her mind worked. she was seriously alarmed. at the usual time martha arrived with tea. “awake, miss betty!” she said. “i hope you had a nice evening. i dare say it was beautiful.” “but," began the girl, then checked herself, and said“is my aunt getting up? is she very tired ?”. “oh, miss, my lady is a wonderful person; she never seems to tire. she is always down at the same time.” betty dressed, but her mind was in a turmoil. on one 24 a book of ghosts thing she was resolved. she must see a doctor. but she would not frighten her aunt, she would keep the matter close from her. when she came into the breakfast-room, lady lacy said “i thought maas's voice was superb, but i did not so much care for the carmen. what did you think, dear?”. "aunt," said betty, anxious to change the topic, "would you mind my seeing a doctor ? i don't think i am quite well." “not well! why what is the matter with you?" "i have such dead fits of drowsiness.” “my dearest, is that to be wondered at with this racketing about; balls and theatres—very other than the quiet life at home? but i will admit that you struck me as looking very pale last night. you shall certainly see dr. groves," when the medical man arrived, betty intimated that she wished to speak with him alone, and he was shown with her into the morning-room. "oh, dr. groves,” she said nervously, “it is such a strange thing i have to say. i believe i walk in my sleep." “you have eaten something that disagreed with you." “but it lasted so long." “how do you mean? have you long been subject to it?” “dear, no. i never had any signs of it before i came to london this season.” “and how were you roused ? how did you become aware of it?" "i was not roused at all; the fact is i went asleep to lady belgrove's ball, and danced there and came back, and woke up in the morning without knowing i had been." “what !” “and then, last night, i went in my sleep to her pomps and vanities 25 majesty's and heard carmen; but i woke up in the conservatory here at early dawn, and i remember nothing about it." “this is a very extraordinary story. are you sure you went to the ball and to the opera ?” “quite sure. my dress had been used on both occasions, and my shoes and fan and gloves as well.” "did you go with lady lacy?". "oh, yes. i was with her all the time. but i remember nothing about it." "i must speak to her ladyship." “please, please do not. it would frighten her; and i do not wish her to suspect anything, except that i am a little out of sorts. she gets nervous about me.” dr. groves mused for some while, then he said: “i cannot see that this is at all a case of somnambulism." “what is it, then ? " "lapse of memory. have you ever suffered from that previously?” "nothing to speak of. of course i do not always remember everything. i do not always recollect commissions given to me, unless i write them down. and i cannot say that i remember all the novels i have read, or what was the menu at dinner yesterday." “that is quite a different matter. what i refer to is spaces of blank in your memory. how often has this occurred ?" “ twice.” “and quite recently ?” “yes, i never knew anything of the kind before." “i think that the sooner you return to the country the better. it is possible that the strain of coming out and the change of entering into gay life in town has been too much for you. take care and economise your pleasures, do not attempt too much; and if anything of the sort happens again, send for me." 26 a book of ghosts “then you won't mention this to my aunt ?” “no, not this time. i will say that you have been a little overwrought and must be spared too much excitement." "thank you so much, dr. groves.” now it was that a new mystery came to confound betty. she rang her bell. "martha,” said she, when her maid appeared, “where is that novel i had yesterday from the circulating library? i put it on the boudoir table.” "i have not noticed it, miss." “please look for it. i have hunted everywhere for it, and it cannot be found.” "i will look in the parlour, miss, and the schoolroom.” “i have not been into the schoolroom at all, and i know that it is not in the drawing-room.” a search was instituted, but the book could not be found. on the morrow it was in the boudoir, where betty had placed it on her return from mudie's. “one of the maids took it," was her explanation. she did not much care for the book; perhaps that was due to her preoccupation, and not to any lack of stirring incident in the story. she sent it back and took out another, next morning that also had disappeared. it now became customary, as surely as she drew a novel from the library, that it vanished clean away. betty was greatly amazed. she could not read a novel she had brought home till a day or two later. she took to putting the book, so soon as it was in the house, into one of her drawers, or into a cupboard. but the result was the same, finally, when she had locked the newly acquired volume in her desk, and it had disappeared thence also, her patience gave way. there must be one of the domestics with a ravenous appetite for fiction, which drove her to carry off a book of the sort whenever it came into the house, and even to tamper with a lock to obtain it. betty pomps and vanities 27 had been most reluctant to speak of the matter to her aunt, but now she made to her a formal complaint. the servants were all questioned, and strongly protested their innocence. not one of them had ventured to do such a thing as that with which they were charged. however, from this time forward the annoyance ceased, and betty and lady lacy naturally concluded that this was the result of the stir that had been made. "betty,” said lady lacy, “what do you say to going to the new play at the gaiety? i hear it very highly spoken of. mrs. fontanel has a box and has asked if we will join her." "i should love it,” replied the girl; "we have been rather quiet of late.” but her heart was oppressed with fear. she said to her maid : “martha, will you dress me this evening-and-pray stay with me till my aunt is ready and calls for me?" “yes, miss, i shall be pleased to do so." but the girl looked somewhat surprised at the latter part of the request. betty thought well to explain : “i don't know what it is, but i feel somewhat out of spirits and nervous, and am afraid of being left alone, lest something should happen." "happen, miss! if you are not feeling well, would it not be as well to stay at home?” “oh, not for the world! i must go. i shall be all right so soon as i am in the carriage. it will pass off then.” “shall i get you a glass of sherry, or anything?" “no, no, it is not that. you remain with me and i shall be myself again.” that evening betty went to the theatre. there was no recurrence of the sleeping fit with its concomitants. captain fontanel was in the box, and made himself vastly agreeable. he had his seat by betty, and talked to her not only between the acts, but also a good deal whilst the 28 a book of ghosts actors were on the stage. with this she could have dispensed. she was not such an habituée of the theatre as not to be intensely interested with what was enacted before her. between two of the acts he said to her : “my mother is engaging lady lacy. she has a scheme in her head, but wants her consent to carry it out, to make it quite too charming. and i am deputed to get you to acquiesce.” “what is it?" “we purpose having a boat and going to the henley regatta. will you come ?" "i should enjoy it above everything. i have never seen a regatta--that is to say, not one so famous, and not of this kind. there were regattas at ilfracombe, but they were different." “very well, then; the party shall consist only of my mother and sister and your two selves, and young fulwell, who is dancing attendance on jannet, and putsey, who is a tame cat. i am sure my mother will persuade your aunt. what a lively old lady she is, and for her years how she does enjoy life!” "it will be a most happy conclusion to our stay in town," said betty. “we are going back to auntie's little cottage in devon in a few days; she wants to be at home for good friday and easter day." so it was settled. lady lacy had raised no objection, and now she and her niece had to consider what betty should wear. thin garments were out of the question ; the weather was too cold, and it would be especially chilly on the river. betty was still in slight mourning, so she chose a silver-grey cloth costume, with a black band about her waist, and a white straw hat, with a ribbon to match her gown. on the day of the regatta betty said to herself; “how ignorant i am! fancy my not knowing where henley is! that it is on the thames or isis i really do not know, but pomps and vanities 29 i fancy on the former-yes, i am almost positive it is on the thames. i have seen pictures in the graphic and illustrated of the race last year, and i know the river was represented as broad, and the isis can only be an insignificant stream. i will run into the schoolroom and find a map of the environs of london and post myself up in the geography. one hates to look like a fool.” without a word to anyone, betty found her way to the apartment given up to lessons when children were in the house. it lay at the back, down a passage. since lady lacy had occupied the place, neither she nor betty had been in it more than casually and rarely; and accordingly the servants had neglected to keep it clean. a good deal of dust lay about, and betty, laughing, wrote her name in the fine powder on the school-table, then looked at her finger, found it black, and said, “oh, bother! i forgot that the dust of london is smut." she went to the bookcase, and groped for a map of the metropolis and the country round, but could not find one. nor could she lay her hand on a gazetteer. “this must do," said she, drawing out a large, thick johnston's atlas, “if the scale be not too small to give henley." she put the heavy volume on the table and opened it. england, she found, was in two parts, one map of the northern, the second of the southern division. she spread out the latter, placed her finger on the blue line of the thames, and began to trace it up. whilst her eyes were on it, searching the small print, they closed, and without being conscious that she was sleepy, her head bowed forward on the map, and she was breathing evenly, steeped in the most profound slumber. she woke slowly. her consciousness returned to her little by little. she saw the atlas without understanding what it meant. she looked about her, and wondered how she could be in the schoolroom, and she then observed that 30 a book of ghosts darkness was closing in. only then, suddenly, did she recall what had brought her where she was. next, with a rush, upon her came the remembrance that she was due at the boat-race. she must again have overslept herself, for the evening had come on, and through the window she could see the glimmer of gaslights in the street. was this to be accompanied by her former experiences ? with throbbing heart she went into the passage. then she noticed that the hall was lighted up, and she heard her aunt speaking, and the slam of the front door, and the maid say, “shall i take off your wraps, my lady?". she stepped forth upon the landing and proceeded to descend, when-with a shock that sent the blood coursing to her heart, and that paralysed her movements—she saw herself ascending the stair in her silver-grey costume and straw hat. she clung to the banister, with convulsive grip, lest she should fall, and stared, without power to utter a sound, as she saw herself quietly mount, step by step, pass her, go beyond to her own room. for fully ten minutes she remained rooted to the spot, unable to stir even a finger. her tongue was stiff, her muscles set, her heart ceased to beat. then slowly her blood began again to circulate, her nerves to relax, power of movement returned. with a hoarse gasp she reeled from her place, and giddy, touching the banister every moment to prevent herself from falling, she crept downstairs. but when once in the hall, she had recovered flexibility. she ran towards the morning-room, whither lady lacy had gone to gather up the letters that had arrived by post during her absence. betty stood looking at her, speechless. her aunt raised her face from an envelope she was considering. “why, betty," said she, “how expeditiously you have changed your dress!” wad arrived by posing at her, speecran envelope pomps and vanities 31 the girl could not speak, but fell unconscious on the floor. when she came to herself, she was aware of a strong smell of vinegar. she was lying on the sofa, and martha was applying a moistened kerchief to her brow. lady lacy stood by, alarmed and anxious, with a bottle of smelling-salts in her hand. "oh, aunt, i saw-_"then she ceased. it would not do to tell of the apparition. she would not be believed. "my darling," said lady lacy, “ you are overdone, and it was foolish of you tearing upstairs and scrambling into your morning-gown. i have sent for groves. are you able now to rise? can you manage to reach your room ?” “my room !” she shuddered. “let me lie here a little longer. i cannot walk. let me be here till the doctor comes." “certainly, dearest. i thought you looked very unlike yourself all day at the regatta. if you had felt out of sorts you ought not to have gone." “auntie! i was quite well in the morning." presently the medical man arrived, and was shown in. betty saw that lady lacy purposed staying through the interview. accordingly she said nothing to dr. groves about what she had seen. “she is overdone,” said he. “the sooner you move her down to devonshire the better. someone had better be in her room to-night. “yes,” said lady lacy; “i had thought of that and have given orders. martha can make up her bed on the sofa in the adjoining dressing-room or boudoir." this was a relief to betty, who dreaded a return to her room-her room into which her other self had gone. “i will call again in the morning," said the medical man; “keep her in bed to-morrow, at all events till i have seen her.” when he left, betty found herself able to ascend the 32 a book of ghosts stairs. she cast a frightened glance about her room. the straw hat, the grey dress were there. no one was in it. she was helped to bed, and although laid in it with her head among the pillows, she could not sleep. racking thoughts tortured her. what was the signification of that encounter? what of her strange sleeps ? what of those mysterious appearances of herself, where she had not been? the theory that she had walked in her sleep was untenable. how was she to solve the riddle? that she was going out of her mind was no explanation. only towards morning did she doze off. when dr. groves came, about eleven o'clock, betty made a point of speaking to him alone, which was what she greatly desired. she said to him: “oh! it has been worse this last occasion, far worse than before. i do not walk in my sleep. whilst i am buried in slumber, someone else takes my place.” “whom do you mean? surely not one of the maids ?” "oh, no. i met her on the stairs last night, that is what made me faint." “whom did you meet?” “myself—my double." “nonsense, miss mountjoy." “ but it is a fact. i saw myself as clearly as i see you now. i was going down into the hall." "you saw yourself! you saw your own pleasant, pretty face in a looking-glass.” “there is no looking-glass on the staircase. besides, i was in my alpaca morning-gown, and my double had on my pearl-grey cloth costume, with my straw hat. she was mounting as i was descending.” “tell me the story." “i went yesterday-an hour or so before i had to dress—into the schoolroom. i am awfully ignorant, and pomps and vanities 33 i did want to see a map and find out where was henley, because, you know, i was going to the boat-race. and i dropped off into one of those dreadful dead sleeps, with my head on the atlas. when i awoke it was evening, and the gas-lamps were lighted. i was frightened, and ran out to the landing and i heard them arrive, just come back from henley, and as i was going down the stairs, i saw my double coming up, and we met face to face. she passed me by, and went on to my room-to this room. so you see this is proof pos that i am not a somnambulist.” “i never said that you were. i never for a moment admitted the supposition. that, if you remember, was your own idea. what i said before is what i repeat now, that you suffer from failure of memory." “but that cannot be so, dr. groves." “pray, why not?" “because i saw my double, wearing my regatta costume.” “i hold to my opinion, miss mountjoy. if you will listen to me i shall be able to offer a satisfactory explanation. satisfactory, i mean, so far as to make your experiences intelligible to you. i do not at all imply that your condition is satisfactory." “well, tell me. i cannot make heads or tails of this matter." " it is this, young lady. on several recent occasions you have suffered from lapses of memory. all recollection of what you did, where you went, what you said, has been clean wiped out. but on this last-it was somewhat different. the failure took place on your return, and you forgot everything that had happened since you were engaged in the schoolroom looking at the atlas." “yes.” “then, on your arrival here, as lady lacy told me, you ran upstairs, and in a prodigious hurry changed your clothes and put on your-“my alpaca." 34 a book of ghosts "your alpaca, yes. then, in descending to the hall, your memory came back, but was still entangled with fying reminiscences of what had taken place during the intervening period. amongst other things~~ " i remember no other things." “you recalled confusedly one thing only, that you had mounted the stairs in your-your-“my pearl-grey cloth, with the straw hat and satin ribbon." “precisely. whilst in your morning gown, into which you had scrambled, you recalled yourself in your regatta costume going upstairs to change. this fragmentary reminiscence presented itself before you as a vision. actually you saw nothing. the impression on your brain of a scrap recollected appeared to you as if it had been an actual object depicted on the retina of your eye. such things happen, and happen not infrequently. in cases of d. t." “but i haven't d.t. i don't drink.” “i do not say that. if you will allow me to proceed. in cases of d. t. the patient fancies he sees rats, devils, all sorts of objects. they appear to him as obvious realities, he thinks that he sees them with his eyes. but he does not. these are mere pictures formed on the brain.” “ then you hold that i really was at the boat-race?” “i am positive that you were." “and that i danced at lady belgrove's ball ?” “ most assuredly." “and heard carmen at her majesty's ?" “i have not the remotest doubt that you did.” betty drew a long breath, and remained in consideration. then she said very gravely: "i want you to tell me, dr. groves, quite truthfully, quite frankly-do not think that i shall be frightened whatever you say; i shall merely prepare for what may be-do you consider that i am going out of my mind ?”. pomps and vanities 35 “i have not the least occasion for supposing so." “ that,” said betty,“ would be the most terrible thing of all. if i thought that, i would say right out to my aunt that i wished at once to be sent to an asylum.” “you may set your mind at rest on that score." “but loss of memory is bad, but better than the other. will these fits of failure come on again ?". “that is more than i can prognosticate; let us hope for the best. a complete change of scene, change of air, change of association--" “not to leave auntie!” “no. i do not mean that, but to get away from london society. it may restore you to what you were. you never had those fits before ?" “never, never, till i came to town.” “and when you have left town they may not recur." “ i shall take precious good care not to revisit london if it is going to play these tricks with me.” that day captain fontanel called, and was vastly concerned to hear that betty was unwell. she was not looking herself, he said, at the boat-race. he feared that the cold on the river had been too much for her. but he did trust that he might be allowed to have a word with her before she returned to devonshire. although he did not see betty, he had an hour's conversation with lady lacy, and he departed with a smile on his face. on the morrow he called again. betty had so completely recovered that she was cheerful, and the pleasant colour had returned to her cheeks. she was in the drawing-room along with her aunt when he arrived. the captain offered his condolences, and expressed his satisfaction that her indisposition had been so quickly got over. “oh!" said the girl, “i am as right as a trivet. it has all passed off. i need not have soaked in bed all yester36 a book of ghosts day, but that aunt would have it so. we are going down to our home to-morrow. yesterday auntie was scared and thought she would have to postpone our return." lady lacy rose, made the excuse that she had the packing to attend to, and left the young people alone together. when the door was shut behind her, captain fontanel drew his chair close to that of the girl and said"betty, you do not know how happy i have felt since you accepted me. it was a hurried affair in the boathouse, but really, time was running short; as you were off so soon to devonshire, i had to snatch at the occasion when there was no one by, so i seized old time by the forelock, and you were so good as to say “yes.'” "1-1--" stammered betty. • “but as the thing was done in such haste, i came here to-day to renew my offer of myself, and to make sure of my happiness. you have had time to reflect, and i trust you do not repent.” “oh, you are so good and kind to me!” “dearest betty, what a thing to say! it is 1-poor, wretched, good-for-naught—who have cause to speak such words to you. put your hand into mine; it is a short courtship of a soldier, like that of harry v. and the fair maid of france. i love you: then if you urge me farther than to say, “do you in faith?" i wear out my suit. give me your answer ; i' faith, do: and so clap hands and a bargain. am i quoting aright?". shyly, hesitatingly, she extended her fingers, and he clasped them. then, shrinking back and looking down, she said : “but i ought to tell you something first, something very serious, which may make you change your mind. i do not, in conscience, feel it right that you should commit yourself till you know." " it must be something very dreadful to make me do that.” pomps and vanities 37 " it is dreadful. i am apt to be terribly forgetful." "bless me! so am i. i have passed several of my acquaintances lately and have not recognised them, but that was because i was thinking of you. and i fear i have been very oblivious about my bills; and as to answering letters-good heavens! i am a shocking defaulter.” "i do not mean that. i have lapses of memory. why, i do not even remember ---" he sealed her lips with a kiss. “you will not forget this, at any rate, betty." "oh, charlie, no!". “then consider this, betty. our engagement cannot be for long. i am ordered to egypt, and i positively must take my dear little wife with me and show her the pyramids. you would like to see them, would you not?” "i should love to.” “and the sphynx ?" “indeed i should.” “and pompey's pillar?” “oh, charlie! i shall love above everything to see you every day.” “that is prettily said. i see we understand one another. now, hearken to me, give me your close attention, and no fits of lapse of memory over what i now say, please. we must be married very shortly. i positively will not go out without you. i would rather throw up my commission.” “but what about papa's consent?" “i shall wire to him full particulars as to my position, income, and prospects, also how much i love you, and how i will do my level best to make you happy. that is the approved formula in addressing paterfamilias, i think. then he will telegraph back, 'bless you, my boy'; and all is settled. i know that lady lacy approves.” "but dear, dear aunt. she will be so awfully lonely without me.” “she shall not be. she has no ties to hold her to the 38 a book of ghosts little cottage in devon. she shall come out to us in cairo, and we will bury the dear old girl up to her neck in the sand of the desert, and make a second sphynx of her, and bake the rheumatism out of her bones. it will cure her of all her aches, as sure as my name is charlie, and yours will be fontanel.” “don't be too sure of that." “but i am sure—you cannot forget." “i will try not to do so. oh, charlie, don't!" mrs. thomas, the dressmaker, and miss crock, the milliner, had their hands full. betty's trousseau had to be got ready expeditiously. patterns of materials specially adapted for a hot climate-light, beautiful, artistic, of silks and muslins and prints—had to be commanded from liberty's. then came the selection, then the ordering, then the discussions with the dressmaker, and the measurings. next the fittings, for which repeated visits had to be made to mrs. thomas. adjustments, alterations were made, easements under the arms, tightenings about the waist. there were fulnesses to be taken in and skimpiness to be redressed. the skirts had to be sufficiently short in front and sufficiently long behind. as for the wedding-dress, mrs. thomas was not regarded as quite competent to execute such a masterpiece. for that an expedition had to be made to exeter. the wedding-cake must be ordered from murch, in the cathedral city. lady lacy was particular that as much as possible of the outfit should be given to county tradesmen. a riding habit, tailor-made, was ordered, to fit like a glove, and a lady's saddle must be taken out to egypt. boxes, basket-trunks were to be procured, and a correspondence carried on as to the amount of personal luggage allowed. lady lacy and betty were constantly running up by express to exeter about this, that, and everything. ady lacy.id be gives order pomps and vanities 39 then ensued the sending out of the invitations, and the arrival of wedding presents, that entailed the writing of gushing letters of acknowledgment and thanks, by betty herself. but these were not allowed to interfere with the scribbling of four pages every day to captain fontanel, intended for his eyes alone. interviews were sought by the editors or agents of local newspapers to ascertain whether reporters were desired to describe the wedding, and as to the length of the notices that were to be inserted, whether all the names of the donors of presents were to be included, and their gifts registered. verily lady lacy and betty were kept in a whirl of excitement, and their time occupied from morning till night, and their brains exercised from night to morning glass and chiña and plate had to be hired for the occasion, wine ordered. fruit, cake, ices commanded. but all things come to an end, even the preparations for a wedding. at last the eventful day arrived, bright and sunny, a true may morning. the bridesmaids arrived, each wearing the pretty brooch presented by captain fontanel. their costume was suitable to the season, of primrose-yellow, with hats turned up, white, with primroses. the pages were in green velvet, with knee-breeches and three-cornered hats, lace ruffles and lace fronts. the butler had made the claret-cup and the champagne-cup, and after a skirmish over the neighbourhood some borage had been obtained to float on the top. lady lacy was to hold a reception after the ceremony, and a marquee had been erected in the grounds, as the cottage could not contain all the guests invited. the dining-room was delivered over for the exposing of the presents. a carriage had been commanded to convey the happy couple to the station, horses and driver with white favours. with a sigh of relief in the morning, lady lacy declared that she believed that nothing had been forgotten. 40 a book of ghosts the trunks stood ready packed, all but one, and labelled with the name of mrs. fontanel. a flag flew on the church tower. the villagers had constructed a triumphal arch at the entrance to the grounds. the people from farms and cottages had all turned out, and were already congregating about the churchyard, with smiles and heartfelt wishes for the happiness of the bride, who was a mighty favourite with them, as indeed was also lady lacy. the sunday-school children had clubbed their pence, and had presented betty, who had taught them, with a silver set of mustard-pot, pepper caster, and salt-cellar. “oh, dear!” said betty, “what shall i do with all these sets of mustardand pepper-pots ? i have now received eight." “a little later, dear,” replied her aunt, “you can exchange those that you do not require.” “but never that set given me by my sunday-school pets,” said betty. then came in flights of telegrams of congratulation. and at the last moment arrived some more wedding presents. "good gracious me!" exclaimed the girl," i really must manage to acknowledge these. there will be just time before i begin to dress.” so she tripped upstairs to her boudoir, a little room given over to herself in which to do her water-colour painting, her reading, to practise her music. a bright little room to which now, as she felt with an ache, she was to bid an eternal good-bye! what happy hours had been spent in it! what daydreams had been spun there! she opened her writing-case and wrote the required letters of thanks. “there,” said she, when she had signed the fifth. “this is the last time i shall subscribe myself elizabeth mountthen the bride i'll back her veil, and betty. srl'ying the hue face. saw that this actually was not hersflf: it was her dead sister letice pomps and vanities 41 joy, except when i sign my name in the church register. oh! how my back is hurting me. i was not in bed till two o'clock and was up again at seven, and i have been on the tear for the whole week. there will be just time for me to rest it before the business of the dressing begins.". she threw herself on the sofa and put up her feet. instantly she was asleep-in a sound, dreamless sleep. when betty opened her eyes she heard the church bells ringing a merry peal. then she raised her lids, and turning her head on the sofa cushion saw-a bride, herself in full bridal dress, with the white veil and the orangeblossoms, seated at her side. the gloves had been removed and lay on the lap. an indescribable terror held her fast. she could not cry out. she could not stir. she could only look. then the bride put back the veil, and betty, studying the white face, saw that this actually was not herself; it was her dead sister, letice. the apparition put forth a hand and laid it on her and spoke: “do not be frightened. i will do you no harm. i love you too dearly for that, betty. i have been married in your name; i have exchanged vows in your name; i have received the ring for you; put it on your finger, it is not mine; it in no way belongs to me. in your name i signed the register. you are married to charles fontanel and not i. listen to me. i will tell you all, and when i have told you everything you will see me no more. i will trouble you no further; i shall enter into my rest. you will see before you only the wedding garments remaining. i shall be gone. hearken to me. when i was dying, i died in frantic despair, because i had never known what were the pleasures of life. my last cries, my last regrets, my last longings were for the pomps and vanities.” she paused, and slipped the gold hoop on to the forefinger of betty's hand. 42 a book of ghosts had dec forcing med the ga then she proceeded“when my spirit parted from my body, it remained a while irresolute whither to go. but then, remembering that my aunt had declared that i never would go to heaven, i resolved on forcing my way in there out of defiance; and i soared till i reached the gates of paradise. at them stood an angel with a fiery sword drawn in his hand, and he laid it athwart the entrance. i approached, but he waved me off, and when the point of the flaming blade touched my heart, there passed a pang through it, i know not whether of joy or of sorrow. and he said : 'letice, you have not been a good girl; you were sullen, resentful, rebellious, and therefore are unfit to enter here. your longings through life, and to the moment of death, were for the world and its pomps and vanities. the last throb of your heart was given to repining for them. but your faults were due largely to the mistakes of your rearing. and now hear your judgment. you shall not pass within these gates till you have returned to earth and partaken of and had your fill of its pomps and vanities. as for that old cat, your aunt'-but no, betty, he did not say quite that; i put it in, and i ought not to have done so. i bear her no resentment; i wish her no ill. she did by me what she believed to be right. she acted towards me up to her lights; alas for me that the light which was in her was darkness! the angel said : 'as for your aunt, before she can enter here, she will want illumining, enlarging, and sweetening, and will have to pass through purgatory.' and oh, betty, that will be gall and bitterness to her, for she did not believe in purgatory, and she wrote a controversial pamphlet against it. then said the angel : *return, return to the pomps and vanities.' i fell on my knees, and said : 'oh, suffer me but to have one glimpse of that which is within !' 'be it so,' he replied. 'one glimpse only whilst i cast my sword on high. thereat he threw up the flaming brand, and it was as though a acted er herec angel chat the pomps and vanities 43 er majestylenley regan of glorious flash of lightning filled all space. at the same moment the gates swung apart, and i saw what was beyond. it was but for one brief moment, for the sword came down, and the angel caught it by the handle, and instantly the gates were shut. then, sorrowfully, i turned myself about and went back to earth. and, betty, it was i who took and read your novels. it was i who went to lady belgrove's ball in your place. it was i who sat instead of you at her majesty's and heard carmen. it was i who took your place at henley regatta, and 1-1, instead of you, received the protestation of charles fontanel's affection, and there in the boat-house i received the first and last kiss of love. and it was i, betty, as i have told you, who took your place at the altar to-day. i had the pleasures that were designed for you—the balldress, the dances, the fair words, the music of the opera, the courtship, the excitement of the regatta, the reading of sensational novels. it was i who had what all girls most long for, their most supreme bliss of wearing the wedding veil and the orange-blossoms. but i have reached my limit. i am full of the pomps and vanities, and i return on high. you will see me no more.” "oh, letice," said betty, obtaining her speech,“ you do not grudge me the joys of life?" the fair white being at her side shook her head. “and you desire no more of the pomps and vanities ? " “no, betty. i have looked through the gates.” then betty put forth her hands to clasp the waist of her sister, as she said fervently"tell me, letice, what you saw beyond." "betty—everything the reverse of salem chapel.” mcalister the city of bayonne, lying on the left bank of the adour, and serving as its port, is one that ought to present much interest to the british tourist, on account of its associations. for three hundred years, along with bordeaux, it belonged to the english crown. the cathedral, a noble structure of the fourteenth century, was reared by the english, and on the bosses of its vaulting are carved the arms of england, of the talbots, and of other great english noble families. it was probably designed by english architects, for it possesses, in its vaulting, the long central rib so characteristic of english architecture, and wholly unlike what was the prevailing french fashion of vaulting in compartments, and always without that connecting rib, like the inverted keel of a ship, with which we are acquainted in our english minsters. under some of the modern houses in the town are cellars of far earlier construction, also vaulted, and in them as well may be seen the arms of the english noble families which had their dwellings above. but bayonne has later associations with us. at the close of the peninsular war, when wellington had driven marshal soult and the french out of spain, and had crossed the pyrenees, his forces, under sir john hope, invested the citadel. in february, 1814, sir john threw a bridge of boats across the adour, boats being provided by the fleet of admiral penrose, in the teeth of a garrison of 15,000 men, and french gunboats which guarded the river mcalister 45 and raked the english whilst conducting this hazardous and masterly achievement. this brilliant exploit was effected whilst wellington engaged the attention of soult about the gaves, affluents of the adour, near orthez. it is further interesting, with a tragic interest, on account of an incident in that campaign which shall be referred to presently. the cathedral of bayonne, some years ago, possessed no towers—the english were driven out of aquitaine before these had been completed. the west front was mean to the last degree, masked by a shabby penthouse, plastered white, or rather dirty white, on which in large characters was inscribed, “liberté égalité et fraternité." this has now disappeared, and a modern west front and twin towers and spires have been added, in passable architecture. when i was at bayonne, more years ago than i care to say, i paid a visit to the little cemetery on the north bank of the river, in which were laid the english officers who fell during the investment of bayonne. the north bank is in the department of the landes, whereas that on the south is in the department of the basses pyrénées. about the time when the english were expelled from france, and lost aquitaine, the adour changed its course. formerly it had turned sharply round at the city, and had flowed north and found an outlet some miles away at cap breton, but the entrance was choked by the moving sanddunes, and the impatient river burst its way into the bay of biscay by the mouth through which it still flows. but the old course is marked by lagoons of still blue water in the midst of a vast forest of pines and cork trees. i had spent a day wandering among these tree-covered landes, seeking out the lonely lakes, and in the evening i returned in the direction of bayonne, diverging somewhat from my course to visit the cemetery of the english. this was a square walled enclosure with an iron gate, rank with weeds, 46 a book of ghosts utterly neglected, and with the tombstones, some leaning, some prostrate, all covered with lichen and moss. i could not get within to decipher the inscriptions, for the gate was locked and i had not the key, and was quite ignorant who was the custodian of the place. being tired with my trudge in the sand, i sat down outside, with my back to the wall, and saw the setting sun paint with saffron the boles of the pines. i took out my murray that i had in my knapsack, and read the following passage:“to the n., rises the citadel, the most formidable of the works laid out by vauban, and greatly strengthened, especially since 1814, when it formed the key to an entrenched camp of marshal soult, and was invested by a detachment of the army of the duke of wellington, but not taken, the peace having put a stop to the siege after some bloody encounters. the last of these, a dreadful and useless expenditure of human life, took place after peace was declared, and the british forces put off their guard in consequence. they were thus entirely taken by surprise by a sally of the garrison, made early on the morning of april 14th; which, though repulsed, was attended with the loss of 830 men of the british, and by the capture of their commander, sir john hope, whose horse was shot under him, and himself wounded. the french attack was supported by the fire of their gunboats on the river, which opened indiscriminately on friend and foe. nine hundred and ten of the french were killed." when i had concluded, the sun had set, and already a grey mist began to form over the course of the adour. i thought that now it was high time for me to return to bayonne, and to table d'hôte, which is at 7.30 p.m., but for which i knew i should be late. however, before rising, i pulled out my flask of scotch whisky, and drained it to the last drop. i had scarcely finished, and was about to heave myself to my feet, when i heard a voice from behind and above me say—“ it is grateful, varra grateful to a scotchman.” i turned myself about, and drew back from the wall, mcalister 47 for i saw a very remarkable object perched upon it. it was the upper portion of a man in military accoutrements. he was not sitting on the wall, for, if so, his legs would have been dangling over on the outside. and yet he could not have heaved himself up to the level of the parapet, with the legs depending inside, for he appeared to be on the wall itself down to the middle. “are you a scotchman or an englishman ?” he inquired. “an englishman," i replied, hardly knowing what to make of the apparition. "it's mabbe a bit airly in the nicht for me to be stirring," he said; "but the smell of the whisky drew me from my grave.” “from your grave !" i exclaimed. “and pray, what is the blend ?” he asked. i answered. “weel," said he, "ye might do better, but it's guid enough. i am captain alister mcalister of auchimachie, at your service, that is to say, his superior half. i fell in one of the attacks on the citadel. those "-he employed a strong qualification which need not be reproduced "those johnny crapauds used chain-shot; and they cut me in half at the waistbelt, and my legs are in scotland.” having somewhat recovered from my astonishment, i was able to take a further look at him, and could not restrain a laugh. he so much resembled humpty dumpty, who, as i had learned in childhood, did sit on a wall. “is there anything so rideeculous about me?” asked captain mcalister in a tone of irritation. “you seem to be in a jocular mood, sir." “i assure you,” i responded, “i was only laughing from joy of heart at the happy chance of meeting you, alister mcalister." “of auchimachie, and my title is captain," he said. “ there is only half of me here—the etceteras are in the family vault in scotland.” 48 a book of ghosts i expressed my genuine surprise at this announcement. "you must understand, sir," continued he, "that i am but the speeritual presentment of my buried trunk. the speeritual presentment of my nether half is not here, and i should scorn to use those of captain o'hooligan.” i pressed my hand to my brow. was i in my right senses? had the hot sun during the day affected my brain, or had the last drain of whisky upset my reason? "you may be pleased to know," said the half-captain, “that my father, the laird of auchimachie, and colonel graham of ours, were on terms of the greatest intimacy. before i started for the war under wellington-he was at the time but sir arthur wellesley-my father took colonel graham apart and confided to him : 'if anything should happen to my son in the campaign, you'll obleege me greatly if you will forward his remains to auchimachie. i am a staunch presbyterian, and i shouldn't feel happy that his poor body should lie in the land of idolaters, who worship the virgin mary. and as to the expense, i will manage to meet that; but be careful not to do the job in an extravagant manner.'”. “and the untoward fates cut you short?" “yes, the chain-shot did, but not in the peninsula. i passed safely through that, but it was here. when we were makin' the bridge, the enemy's ships were up the river, and they fired on us with chain-shot, which ye ken are mainly used for cutting the rigging of vessels. but they employed them on us as we were engaged over the pontoons, and i was just cut in half by a pair of these shot at the junction of the tunic and the trews.” "i cannot understand how that your legs should be in scotland and your trunk here." “that's just what i'm aboot to tell you. there was a captain o'hooligan and i used to meet; we were in the same detachment. i need not inform you, if you're a man of understanding, that o'hooligan is an irish name, and mcalister 49 captain timothy o'hooligan was a born irishman and an ignorant papist to boot. now, i am by education and conveection a staunch presbyterian. i believe in john calvin, john knox, and jeannie geddes. that's my creed; and if ye are disposed for an argumente " "not in the least." “weel, then, it was other with captain o'hooligan, and we often had words; but he hadn't any arguments at all, only assertions, and he lost his temper accordingly, and i was angry at the unreasonableness of the man. i had had an ancestor in derry at the siege and at the battle of the boyne, and he spitted three irish kerns on his sabre. i glory in it, and i told o'hooligan as much, and i drank a glass of toddy to the memory of william iii., and i shouted out lillibulero! i believe in the end we would have fought a duel, after the siege was over, unless one of us had thought better of it. but it was not to be. at the same time that i was cut in half, so was he also by chainshot." “ and is he buried here?" “the half of him-his confounded legs, and the knees that have bowed to the image of baal.” “then, what became of his body?" “if you'll pay me reasonable attention, and not interrupt, i'll tell you the whole story. but-sure enough! here come those legs!” instantly the half-man rolled off the wall, on the outside, and heaving himself along on his hands, scuttled behind a tree-trunk. next moment i saw a pair of nimble lower limbs, in white ducks and straps under the boots, leap the wall, and run about, up and down, much like a setter after a partridge. i did not know what to make of this. then the head of mcalister peered from behind the tree, and screamed “lillibulero! god save king william !” instantly the legs went after him, and catching him up 50 a book of ghosts kicked him like a football about the enclosure. i cannot recall precisely how many times the circuit was made, twice or thrice, but all the while the head of mcalister kept screaming “lillibulero!” and “d—the pope !" recovering myself from my astonishment, and desirous of putting a term to this not very edifying scene, i picked up a leaf of shamrock, that grew at my feet, and ran between the legs and the trunk, and presented the symbol of st. patrick to the former. the legs at once desisted from pursuit, and made a not ungraceful bow to the leaf, and as i advanced they retired, still bowing reverentially, till they reached the wall, which they stepped over with the utmost ease. the half-scotchman now hobbled up to me on his hands, and said: “ i'm varra much obleeged to you for your intervention, sir." then he scrambled, by means of the rails of the gate, to his former perch on the wall. "you must understand, sir," said mcalister, settling himself comfortably, “that this produces no pheesical inconvenience to me at all. for o’hooligan's boots are speeritual, and so is my trunk speeritual. and at best it only touches my speeritual feelings. still, i thank you." “you certainly administered to him some spiritual aggravation," i observed. “ay, ay, sir, i did. and i glory in it.” “and now, captain mcalister, if it is not troubling you too greatly, after this interruption would you kindly explain to me how it comes about that the nobler part of you is here and the less noble in scotland ?" "i will do so with pleasure, captain o'hooligan's upper story is at auchimachie.” “how came that about?". “if you had a particle of patience, you would not interrupt me in my narrative. i told you, did i not, that my dear father had enjoined on colonel graham, should anything untoward occur, that he should send my body mcalister 51 home to be interred in the vault of my ancestors ? well, this is how it came about that the awkward mistake was made. when it was reported that i had been killed, colonel graham issued orders that my remains should be carefully attended to and put aside to be sent home to scotland.” " by boat, i presume?”. "certainly, by boat. but, unfortunately, he commissioned some irishmen of his company to attend to it. and whether it was that they wished to do honour to their own countryman, or whether it was that, like most irishmen, they could not fail to blunder in the discharge of their duty, i cannot say. they might have recognised me, even if they hadn't known my face, by my goold repeater watch; but some wretched camp-followers had been before them. on the watch were engraved the mcalister arms. but the watch had been stolen. so they picked up--either out of purpose, or by mistakeo'hooligan's trunk, and my nether portion, and put them together into one case. you see, a man's legs are not so easily identified. so his body and my lower limbs were made ready together to be forwarded to scotland.” “but how—did not colonel graham see personally to the matter?” “he could not. he was so much engaged over regimental duties. still, he might have stretched a point, i think." “ it must have been difficult to send the portions so far. was the body embalmed ?". “embalmed! no. there was no one in bayonne who knew how to do it. there was a bird-stuffer in the rue pannceau, but he had done nothing larger than a seagull. so there could be no question of embalming. we, that is, the bit of o’hooligan and the bit of me, were put into a cask of eau-de-vie, and so forwarded by a sailing-vessel. and either on the way to southampton, 52 a book of ghosts or on another boat from that port to edinburgh, the sailors ran a gimlet into the barrel, and inserted a straw, and drank up all the spirits. it was all gone by the time the hogshead reached auchimachie. whether o’hooligan gave a smack to the liquor i cannot say, but i can answer for my legs, they would impart a grateful flavour of whisky. i was always a drinker of whisky, and when i had taken a considerable amount it always went to my legs; they swerved, and gave way under me. that is proof certain that the liquor went to my extremities and not to my head. trust to a scotchman's head for standing any amount of whisky. when the remains arrived at auchimachie for interment, it was supposed that some mistake had been made. my hair is sandy, that of o’hooligan is black, or nearly so; but there was no knowing what chemical action the alcohol might have on the hair in altering its colour. but my mother identified the legs past mistake, by a mole on the left calf and a varicose vein on the right. anyhow, half a loaf is better than no bread, so all the mortal relics were consigned to the mcalister vault. it was aggravating to my feelings that the minister should pronounce a varra eloquent and moving discourse on the occasion over the trunk of a confounded irishman and a papist.” "you must really excuse me,” interrupted i,“ but how the dickens do you know all this?" “there is always an etherial current of communication between the parts of a man's body," replied mcalister, "and there is speeritual intercommunication between a man's head and his toes, however pairted they may be. i tell you, sir, in the speeritual world we know a thing or two." “and now," said i, “what may be your wishes in this most unfortunate matter?” "i am coming to that, if you'll exercise a little rational patience. this that i tell you of occurred in 1814, a mcalister 53 considerable time ago. i shall be varra pleased if, on your return to england, you will make it your business to run up to scotland, and interview my great-nephew. i am quite sure he will do the right thing by me, for the honour of the family, and to ease my soul. he never would have come into the estate at all if it had not been for my lamented decease. there's another little unpleasantness to which i desire you to call his attention. a tombstone has been erected over my trunk and o'hooligan's legs, here in this cemetery, and on it is: 'sacred to the memory of captain timothy o'hooligan, who fell on the field of glory. r. i. p.' now this is liable to a misunderstanding for it is me -i mean i, to be grammatical—who lies underneath. i make no account of the irishman's nether extremities. and being a convinced and zealous presbyterian, i altogether conscientiously object to having ‘requiescat in pace'inscribed over my bodily remains. and my greatnephew, the present laird, if he be true to the principles of the covenant, will object just as strongly as myself. i know very weel those letters are attached to the name of o’hooligan, but they mark the place of deposition of my body rather than his. so i wish you just to put it clearly and logically to the laird, and he will take steps, at any cost, to have me transferred to auchimachie. what he may do with the relics of that irish rogue i don't care for, not one stick of barley sugar.” i promised solemnly to fulfil the commission entrusted to me, and then captain mcalister wished me a good night, and retired behind the cemetery wall. i did not quit the south of france that same year, for i spent the winter at pau. in the following may i returned to england, and there found that a good many matters connected with my family called for my immediate attention. it was accordingly just a year and five months after my interview with captain mcalister that i was able 54 a book of ghosts hat cituddid bor a trip to discharge my promise. i had never forgotten my undertaking—i had merely postponed it. charity begins at home, and my own concerns engrossed my time too fully to allow me the leisure for a trip to the north. however, in the end i did go. i took the express to edinburgh. that city, i think candidly, is the finest for situation in the world, as far as i have seen of it. i did not then visit it. i never had previously been in the athens of the north, and i should have liked to spend a couple of days at least in it, to look over the castle and to walk through holyrood. but duty stands before pleasure, and i went on directly to my destination, postponing acquaintance with edinburgh till i had accomplished my undertaking. i had written to mr. fergus mcalister to inform him of my desire to see him. i had not entered into the matter of my communication. i thought it best to leave this till i could tell him the whole story by word of mouth. 1 merely informed him by letter that i had something to speak to him about that greatly concerned his family. on reaching the station his carriage awaited me, and i was driven to his house. he received me with the greatest cordiality, and offered me the kindest hospitality. the house was large and rambling, not in the best repair, and the grounds, as i was driven through them, did not appear to be trimly kept. i was introduced to his wife and to his five daughters, fair-haired, freckled girls, certainly not beautiful, but pleasing enough in manner. his eldest son was away in the army, and his second was in a lawyer's office in edinburgh ; so i saw nothing of them. after dinner, when the ladies had retired, i told him the entire story as freely and as fully as possible, and he listened to me with courtesy, patience, and the deepest attention. mcalister 55 “yes," he said, when i had concluded, “i was aware that doubts had been cast on the genuineness of the trunk. but under the circumstances it was considered advisable to allow the matter to stand as it was. there were insuperable difficulties in the way of an investigation and a certain identification. but the legs were all right. and i hope to show you to-morrow, in the kirk, a very handsome tablet against the wall, recording the name and the date of decease of my great-uncle, and some very laudatory words on his character, beside an appropriate text from the screeptures." “now, however, that the facts are known, you will, of course, take steps for the translation of the half of captain alister to your family vault.” "i foresee considerable difficulties in the way," he replied. “the authorities at bayonne might raise objections to the exhuming of the remains in the grave marked by the tombstone of captain o’hooligan. they might very reasonably say: 'what the hang has mr. fergus mcalister to do with the body of captain o'hooligan?' we must consult the family of that officer in ireland.” "but,” said i, “a representation of the case-of the mistake made-would render all clear to them. i do not see that there is any necessity for complicating the story by saying that you have only half of your relative here, and that the other half is in o'hooligan's grave. state that orders had been given for the transmission of the body of your great-uncle to auchimachie, and that, through error, the corpse of captain o'hooligan had been sent, and captain mcalister buried by mistake as that of the irishman. that makes a simple, intelligible, and straightforward tale. then you could dispose of the superfluous legs when they arrived in the manner you think best.” the laird remained silent for a while, rubbing his chin, and looking at the tablecloth. presently he stood up, and going to the sideboard, said : 56 a book of ghosts “i'll just take a wash of whisky to clear my thoughts. will you have some?" "thank you; i am enjoying your old and excellent port." mr. fergus mcalister returned leisurely to the table after his “wash,” remained silent a few minutes longer, then lifted his head and said: “i don't see that i am called upon to transport those legs." "no," i answered ; " but you had best take the remains in a lump and sort them on their arrival.” "i am afraid it will be seriously expensive. my good sir, the property is not now worth what it was in captain alister's time. land has gone down in value, and rents have been seriously reduced. besides, farmers are now more exacting than formerly; they will not put up with the byres that served their fathers. then my son in the army is a great expense to me, and my second son is not yet earning his livelihood, and my daughters have not yet found suitors, so that i shall have to leave them something on which to live; besides”-he drew a long breath—"i want to build on to the house a billiard-room." "i do not think," protested i, “ that the cost would be very serious.” “what do you mean by serious ?” he asked. “i think that these relics of humanity might be transported to auchimachie in a hogshead of cognac, much as the others were." “what is the price of cognac down there?" asked he. “well," i replied, "that is more than i can say as to the cask, best cognac, three stars, is five francs fifty centimes a bottle.” “that's a long price. but one star?”. "i cannot say; i never bought that. possibly three francs and a half.” “and how many bottles to a cask ?” "i am not sure, something over two hundred litres." mcalister 57 "two hundred three shillings," mused mr. fergus; and then looking up, “there is the duty in england, very heavy on spirits, and charges for the digging-up, and fees to the officials, and the transport by water-w" he shook his head. “you must remember," said i, “that your relative is subjected to great indignities from those legs, getting toed three or four times round the enclosure." i said three or four, but i believe it was only twice or thrice. “it hardly comports with the family honour to suffer it.” “i think," replied mr. fergus, " that you said it was but the speeritual presentment of a boot, and that there was no pheesical inconvenience felt, only a speeritual impression?” “just so." “for my part, judging from my personal experience," said the laird, “speeritual impressions are most evanescent." “then,” said i,“ captain alister's trunk lies in a foreign land.” “but not," replied he, "in roman catholic consecrated soil. that is a great satisfaction." "you, however, have the trunk of a roman catholic in your family vault.” " it is so, according to what you say. but there are a score of mcalisters there, all staunch presbyterians, and if it came to an argument among themi won't say he would not have a leg to stand on, as he hasn't those anyhow, but he would find himself just nowhere." then mr. fergus mcalister stood up and said : “shall we join the ladies ? as to what you have said, sir, and have recommended, i assure you that i will give it my most serious consideration." the leaden ring “it is not possible, julia. i cannot conceive how the i idea of attending the county ball can have entered your head after what has happened. poor young hattersley's dreadful death suffices to stop that." “but, aunt, mr. hattersley is no relation of ours." “no relation--but you know that the poor fellow would not have shot himself if it had not been for you." “oh, aunt elizabeth, how can you say so, when the verdict was that he committed suicide when in an unsound condition of mind ? how could i help his blowing out his brains, when those brains were deranged ?". “julia, do not talk like this. if he did go off his head, it was you who upset him by first drawing him on, leading him to believe that you liked him, and then throwing him over so soon as the hon. james lawlor appeared on the tapis. consider : what will people say if you go to the assembly?" “what will they say if i do not go? they will immediately set it down to my caring deeply for james hattersley, and they will think that there was some sort of engagement." “ they are not likely to suppose that. but really, julia, you were for a while all smiles and encouragement. tell me, now, did mr. hattersley propose to you?” “well-yes, he did, and i refused him." “and then he went and shot himself in despair. julia, you cannot with any face go to the ball.” “nobody knows that he proposed. and precisely 58 the leaden ring 59 because i do go everyone will conclude that he did not propose. i do not wish it to be supposed that he did.” “his family, of course, must have been aware. they will see your name among those present at the assembly." "aunt, they are in too great trouble to look at the paper to see who were at the dance." "his terrible death lies at your door. how you can have the heart, julia-" "i don't see it. of course, i feel it. i am awfully sorry, and awfully sorry for his father, the admiral. i cannot set him up again. i wish that when i rejected him he had gone and done as did joe pomeroy, marry one of his landlady's daughters.” "there, julia, is another of your delinquencies. you lured on young pomeroy till he proposed, then you refused him, and in a fit of vexation and mortified vanity he married a girl greatly beneath him in social position. if the mênage prove a failure you will have it on your conscience that you have wrecked his life and perhaps hers as well.” “i cannot throw myself away as a charity to save this man or that from doing a foolish thing." “what i complain of, julia, is that you encouraged young mr. pomeroy till mr. hattersley appeared, whom you thought more eligible, and then you tossed him aside ; and you did precisely the same with james hattersley as soon as you came to know mr. lawlor. after all, julia, i am not so sure that mr. pomeroy has not chosen the better part. the girl, i dare say, is simple, fresh, and affectionate.” “your implication is not complimentary, aunt elizabeth." “my dear, i have no patience with the young lady of the present day, who is shallow, self-willed, and indifferent to the feelings and happiness of others, who craves for excitement and pleasure, and desires nothing that is useful 60 a book of ghosts and good. where now will you see a girl like viola's sister, who let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, feed on her damask cheek? nowadays a girl lays herself at the feet of a man if she likes him, turns herself inside-out to let him and all the world read her heart.” "i have no relish to be like viola's sister, and have my story—a blank. i never grovelled at the feet of joe pomeroy or james hattersley." “no, but you led each to consider himself the favoured one till he proposed, and then you refused him. it was like smiling at a man and then stabbing him to the heart.” “well—i don't want people to think that james hattersley cared for me, i certainly never cared for himnor that he proposed ; so i shall go to the ball." julia demant was an orphan. she had been retained at school till she was eighteen, and then had been removed just at the age when a girl begins to take an interest in her studies, and not to regard them as drudgery. on her removal she had cast away all that she had acquired, and had been plunged into the whirl of society. then suddenly her father died—she had lost her mother some years before-and she went to live with her aunt, miss flemming. julia had inherited a sum of about five hundred pounds a year, and would probably come in for a good estate and funds as well on the death of her aunt. she had been flattered as a girl at home, and at school as a beauty, and she certainly thought no small bones of herself. miss flemming was an elderly lady with a sharp tongue, very outspoken, and very decided in her opinions; but her action was weak, and julia soon discovered that she could bend the aunt to do anything she willed, though she could not modify or alter her opinions. in the matter of joe pomeroy and james hattersley, it was as miss flemming had said. julia had encouraged mr. pomeroy, and had only cast him off because she the leaden ring 61 thought better of the suit of mr. hattersley, son of an admiral of that name. she had seen a good deal of young hattersley, had given him every encouragement, had so entangled him, that he was madly in love with her; and then, when she came to know the hon. james lawlor, and saw that he was fascinated, she rejected hattersley with the consequences alluded to in the conversation above given. julia was particularly anxious to be present at the county ball, for she had been already booked by mr. lawlor for several dances, and she was quite resolved to make an attempt to bring him to a declaration. on the evening of the ball miss flemming and julia entered the carriage. the aunt had given way, as was her wont, but under protest. for about ten minutes neither spoke, and then miss flemming said, “well, you know my feelings about this dance. i do not approve. i distinctly disapprove. i do not consider your going to the ball in good taste, or, as you would put it, in good form. poor young hattersley" “oh, dear aunt, do let us put young hattersley aside. he was buried with the regular forms, i suppose ? ' “yes, julia." "then the rector accepted the verdict of the jury at the inquest. why should not we? a man who is unsound in his mind is not responsible for his actions." “i suppose not.” “much less, then, i who live ten miles away." "i do not say that you are responsible for his death, but for the condition of mind that led him to do the dreadful deed. really, julia, you are one of those into whose head or heart only by a surgical operation could the thought be introduced that you could be in the wrong. a hypodermic syringe would be too weak an instrument to effect such a radical change in you. everyone else may be 62 a book of ghosts in the wrong, you-never. as for me, i cannot get young hattersley out of my head.” "and i," retorted julia with asperity, for her aunt's words had stung her—“i, for my part, do not give him a thought." she had hardly ispoken the words before a chill wind began to pass round her. she drew the barège shawl that was over her bare shoulders closer about her, and said—“auntie! is the glass down on your side?" “no, julia; why do you ask ?” "there is such a draught.” “draught !-i do not feel one; perhaps the window on your side hitches." “ indeed, that is all right. it is blowing harder and is deadly cold. can one of the front panes be broken?” “no. rogers would have told me had that been the case. besides, i can see that they are sound.” the wind of which julia complained swirled and whistled about her. it increased in force; it plucked at her shawl and slewed it about her throat; it tore at the lace on her dress. it snatched at her hair, it wrenched it away from the pins, the combs that held it in place; one long tress was lashed across the face of miss flemming. then the hair, completely released, eddied up above the girl's head, and next moment was carried as a drift before her, blinding her. then—a sudden explosion, as though a gun had been fired into her ear; and with a scream of terror she sank back among the cushions. miss flemming, in great alarm, pulled the checkstring, and the carriage stopped. the footman descended from the box and came to the side. the old lady drew down the window and said : “oh! phillips, bring the lamp. something has happened to miss demant.” the man obeyed, and sent a flood of light into the carriage. julia was lying back, white and senseless. her hair was scattered over her face, neck, and shoulders; the the leaden ring 63 flowers that had been stuck in it, the pins that had fastened it in place, the pads that had given shape to the convolutions lay strewn, some on her lap, some in the rug at the bottom of the carriage. "phillips!” ordered the old lady in great agitation, "tell rogers to turn the horses and drive home at once; and do you run as fast as you can for dr. crate." a few minutes after the carriage was again in motion, julia revived. her aunt was chafing her hand. “oh, aunt!” she said, "are all the glasses broken ?" "broken-what glasses ?". "those of the carriage-with the explosion." " explosion, my dear!” “ yes. that gun which was discharged. it stunned me. were you hurt?” "i heard no gun-no explosion." “but i did. it was as though a bullet had been discharged into my brain. i wonder that i escaped. who can have fired at us?”. “my dear, no one fired. i heard nothing. i know what it was. i had the same experience many years ago. i slept in a damp bed, and awoke stone deaf in my right ear. i remained so for three weeks. but one night when i was at a ball and was dancing, all at once i heard a report as of a pistol in my right ear, and immediately heard quite clearly again. it was wax.” “ but, aunt elizabeth, i have not been deaf.” "you have not noticed that you were deaf.” “oh! but look at my hair ; it was that wind that blew it about.” “you are labouring under a delusion, julia. there was no wind.” “but look-feel how my hair is down." “ that has been done by the motion of the carriage. there are many ruts in the road.” they reached home, and julia, feeling sick, frightened, 64 a book of ghosts and bewildered, retired to bed. dr. crate arrived, said that she was hysterical, and ordered something to soothe her nerves. julia was not convinced. the explanation offered by miss flemming did not satisfy her. that she was a victim to hysteria she did not in the least believe. neither her aunt, nor the coachman, nor phillips had heard the discharge of a gun. as to the rushing wind, julia was satisfied that she had experienced it. the lace was ripped, as by a hand, from her dress, and the shawl was twisted about her throat; besides, her hair had not been so slightly arranged that the jolting of the carriage would completely disarrange it. she was vastly perplexed over what she had undergone. she thought and thought, but could get no nearer to a solution of the mystery. next day, as she was almost herself again, she rose and went about as usual. in the afternoon the hon. james lawlor called and asked after miss flemming. the butler replied that his mistress was out making calls, but that miss demant was at home, and he believed was on the terrace. mr. lawlor at once asked to see her. he did not find julia in the parlour or on the terrace, but in a lower garden to which she had descended to feed the goldfish in the pond. “oh! miss demant,” said he, “i was so disappointed not to see you at the ball last night.” "i was very unwell; i had a fainting fit and could not go." "it threw a damp on our spirits—that is to say, on mine. i had you booked for several dances.” “you were able to give them to others.” “but that was not the same to me. i did an act of charity and self-denial. i danced instead with the ugly miss burgons and with miss pounding, and that was like dragging about a sack of potatoes. i believe it would have been a jolly evening, but for that shocking affair of juntay s her hat was blown off, and next instant a detonation rang through her head as though a gun had been fired into her ear the leaden ring 65 young hattersley which kept some of the better sort away. i mean those who know the hattersleys. of course, for me that did not matter, we were not acquainted. i never even spoke with the fellow. you knew him, i believe? i heard some people say so, and that you had not come because of him. the supper, for a subscription ball, was not atrociously bad." “what did they say of me?” “oh!if you will know—that you did not attend the ball because you liked him very much, and were awfully cut up." "1-i! what a shame that people should talk! i never cared a rush for him. he was nice enough in his way, · not a bounder, but tolerable as young men go." mr. lawlor laughed. “i should not relish to have such a qualified estimate made of me." "nor need you. you are interesting. he became so only when he had shot himself. it will be by this alone that he will be remembered.” “but there is no smoke without fire. did he like youmuch?” “dear mr. lawlor, i am not a clairvoyante, and never was able to see into the brains or hearts of people-least of all of young men. perhaps it is fortunate for me that i cannot.” "one lady told me that he had proposed to you." “who was that? the potato-sack?" "i will not give her name. is there any truth in it? did he?" “ no." at the moment she spoke there sounded in her ear a whistle of wind, and she felt a current like a cord of ice creep round her throat, increasing in force and compression, her hat was blown off, and next instant a detonation rang through her head as though a gun had been fired into her ear. she uttered a cry and sank upon the ground. 66 a book of ghosts james lawlor was bewildered. his first impulse was to run to the house for assistance; then he considered that he could not leave her lying on the wet soil, and he stooped to raise her in his arms and to carry her within. in novels young men perform such a feat without difficulty; but in fact they are not able to do it, especially when the girl is tall and big-boned. moreover, one in a faint is à dead weight. lawlor staggered under his burden to the steps. it was as much as he could perform to carry her up to the terrace, and there he placed her on a seat. panting, and with his muscles quivering after the strain, he hastened to the drawing-room, rang the bell, and when the butler appeared, he gasped: “miss demant has fainted; you and i and the footman must carry her within." “she fainted last night in the carriage," said the butler. when julia came to her senses, she was in bed attended by the housekeeper and her maid. a few moments later miss flemming arrived. "oh, aunt! i have heard it again.” "heard what, dear?”. “the discharge of a gun.” “it is nothing but wax," said the old lady. “i will drop a little sweet-oil into your ear, and then have it syringed with warm water.” "i want to tell you something-in private." miss flemming signed to the servants to withdraw. “aunt,” said the girl, “i must say something. this is the second time that this has happened. i am sure it is significant. james lawlor was with me in the sunken garden, and he began to speak about james hattersley. you know it was when we were talking about him last night that i heard that awful noise. it was precisely as if a gun had been discharged into my ear. i felt as if all the nerves and tissues of my head were being torn, and all the bones of my skull shattered—just what mr. hattersley the leaden ring 67 must have undergone when he pulled the trigger. it was an agony for a moment perhaps, but it felt as if it lasted an hour. mr. lawlor had asked me point blank if james hattersley had proposed to me, and i said, 'no.' i was perfectly justified in so answering, because he had no right to ask me such a question. it was an impertinence on his part, and i answered him shortly and sharply with a negative. but actually james hattersley proposed twice to me. he would not accept a first refusal, but came next day bothering me again, and i was pretty curt with him. he made some remarks that were rude about how i had treated him, and which i will not repeat, and as he left, in a state of great agitation, he said, 'julia, i vow that you shall not forget this, and you shall belong to no one but me, alive or dead. i considered this great nonsense, and did not accord it another thought. but, really, these terrible annoyances, this wind and the bursts of noise, do seem to me to come from him. it is just as though he felt a malignant delight in distressing me, now that he is dead. i should like to defy him, and i will do it if i can, but i cannot bear more of these experiences—they will kill me." several days elapsed. mr. lawlor called repeatedly to inquire, but a week passed before julia was sufficiently recovered to receive him, and then the visit was one of courtesy and of sympathy, and the conversation turned upon her health, and on indifferent themes. but some few days later it was otherwise. she was in the conservatory alone, pretty much herself again, when mr. lawlor was announced. physically she had recovered, or believed that she had, but her nerves had actually received a severe shock. she had made up her mind that the phenomena of the circling wind and the explosion were in some mysterious manner connected with hattersley. she bitterly resented this, but she was in mortal terror 68 a book of ghosts of a recurrence; and she felt no compunction for her treatment of the unfortunate young man, but rather a sense of deep resentment against him. if he were dead, why did he not lie quiet and cease from vexing her ? to be a martyr was to her no gratification, for hers was not a martyrdom that provoked sympathy, and which could make her interesting. she had hitherto supposed that when a man died there was an end of him ; his condition was determined for good or for ill. but that a disembodied spirit should hover about and make itself a nuisance to the living, had never entered into her calculations. "julia—if i may be allowed so to call you "_began mr. lawlor, “i have brought you a bouquet of flowers. will you accept them?" “oh!” she said, as he handed the bunch to her, “how kind of you. at this time of the year they are so rare, and aunt's gardener is so miserly that he will spare me none for my room but some miserable bits of geranium. it is too bad of you wasting your money like this upon me.” " it is no waste, if it afford you pleasure." " it is a pleasure. i dearly love flowers.” "to give you pleasure,” said mr. lawlor, “is the great object of my life. if i could assure you happiness—if you would allow me to hope—to seize this opportunity, now that we are alone togetherhe drew near and caught her hand. his features were agitated, his lips trembled, there was earnestness in his eyes. at once a cold blast touched julia and began to circle about her and to flutter her hair. she trembled and drew back. that paralysing experience was about to be renewed. she turned deadly white, and put her hand to her right ear. "oh, james ! james !” she gasped. “do not, pray do not speak what you want to say, or i shall faint. it is coming on. i am not yet well enough to hear it. wers. the leaden ring 69 write to me and i will answer. for pity's sake do not speak it.” then she sank upon a seat-and at that moment her aunt entered the conservatory. on the following day a note was put into her hand, containing a formal proposal from the hon. james lawlor; and by return of post julia answered with an acceptance. there was no reason whatever why the engagement should be long; and the only alternative mooted was whether the wedding should take place before lent or after easter. finally, it was settled that it should be celebrated on shrove tuesday. this left a short time for the necessary preparations. miss flemming would have to go to town with her niece concerning a trousseau, and a trousseau is not turned out rapidly any more than an armed cruiser. there is usually a certain period allowed to young people who have become engaged, to see much of each other, to get better acquainted with one another, to build their castles in the air, and to indulge in little passages of affection, vulgarly called “spooning.” but in this case the spooning had to be curtailed and postponed. at the outset, when alone with james, julia was nervous. she feared a recurrence of those phenomena that so affected her. but, although every now and then the wind curled and soughed about her, it was not violent, nor was it chilling; and she came to regard it as a wail of discomfiture. moreover, there was no recurrence of the detonation, and she fondly hoped that with her marriage the vexation would completely cease. in her heart was deep down a sense of exultation. she was defying james hattersley and setting his prediction at naught. she was not in love with mr. lawlor; she liked him, in her cold manner, and was not insensible to the social advantage that would be hers when she became the honourable mrs. lawlor. the day of the wedding arrived. happily it was fine. chilling coreover, there was that with her 70 a book of ghosts “blessed is the bride the sun shines on," said the cheery miss flemming; "an omen, i trust, of a bright and unruffled life in your new condition." all the neighbourhood was present at the church. miss flemming had many friends. mr. lawlor had fewer present, as he belonged to a distant county. the church path had been laid with red cloth, the church decorated with flowers, and a choir was present to twitter “the voice that breathed o'er eden." the rector stood by the altar, and two cushions had been laid at the chancel step. the rector was to be assisted by an uncle of the bridegroom who was in holy orders; the rector, being old-fashioned, had drawn on pale grey kid gloves. first arrived the bridegroom with his best man, and stood in a nervous condition balancing himself first on one foot, then on the other, waiting, observed by all eyes, next entered the procession of the bride, attended by her maids, to the “wedding march” in lohengrin, on a wheezy organ. then julia and her intended took their places at the chancel step for the performance of the first portion of the ceremony, and the two clergy descended to them from the altar. “wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?” “i will." “wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband ?" “i will." " i, james, take thee, julia, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold— "and so on. as the words were being spoken, a cold rush of air passed over the clasped hands, numbing them, and began to creep round the bride, and to flutter her veil. she set her lips and knitted her brows. in a few minutes she would be beyond the reach of these manifestations. when it came to her turn to speak, she began firmly : “i, julia, take thee, james-" but as she proceeded the the leaden ring 71 follow being steps of profout wind became fierce; it raged about her, it caught her veil on one side and buffeted her cheek; it switched the veil about her throat, as though strangling her with a drift of snow contracting into ice. but she persevered to the end. then james lawlor produced the ring, and was about to place it on her finger with the prescribed words: “with this ring i thee wed ” when a report rang in her ear, followed by a heaving of her skull, as though the bones were being burst asunder, and she sank unconscious on the chancel step. in the midst of profound commotion, she was raised and conveyed to the vestry, followed by james lawlor, trembling and pale. he had slipped the ring back into his waistcoat pocket. dr. crate, who was present, hastened to offer his professional assistance. in the vestry julia rested in a glastonbury chair, white and still, with her hands resting in her lap. and to the amazement of those present, it was seen that on the third finger of her left hand was a leaden ring, rude and solid as though fashioned out of a bullet. restoratives were applied, but full a quarter of an hour elapsed before julia opened her eyes, and a little colour returned to her lips and cheek. but, as she raised her hands to her brow to wipe away the damps that had formed on it, her eye caught sight of the leaden ring, and with a cry of horror she sank again into insensibility. the congregation slowly left the church, awestruck, whispering, asking questions, receiving no satisfactory answers, forming surmises all incorrect. "i am very much afraid, mr. lawlor," said the rector, “that it will be impossible to proceed with the service today; it must be postponed till miss demant is in a condition to conclude her part, and to sign the register. i do not see how it can be gone on with to-day. she is quite unequal to the effort.” 72 a book of ghosts the carriage which was to have conveyed the couple to miss flemming's house, and then, later, to have taken them to the station for their honeymoon, the horses decorated with white rosettes, the whip adorned with a white bow, had now to convey julia, hardly conscious, supported by her aunt, to her home. no rice could be thrown. the bell-ringers, prepared to give a joyous peal, were constrained to depart. the reception at miss flemming's was postponed. no one thought of attending. the cakes, the ices, were consumed in the kitchen. the bridegroom, bewildered, almost frantic, ran hither and thither, not knowing what to do, what to say. julia lay as a stone for fully two hours; and when she came to herself could not speak. when conscious, she raised her left hand, looked on the leaden ring, and sank back again into senselessness. not till late in the evening was she sufficiently recovered to speak, and then she begged her aunt, who had remained by her bed without stirring, to dismiss the attendants. she desired to speak with her alone. when no one was in the room with her, save miss flemming, she said in a whisper : "oh, aunt elizabeth! oh, auntie ! such an awful thing has happened. i can never marry mr. lawlor, never. i have married james hattersley; i am a dead man's wife. at the time that james lawlor was making the responses, i heard a piping voice in my ear, an unearthly voice, saying the same words. when i said: 'i, julia, take you, james, to my wedded husband'--you know mr. hattersley is james as well as mr. lawlor-then the words applied to him as much or as well as to the other. and then, when it came to the giving of the ring, there was the explosion in my ear, as before and the leaden ring was forced on to my finger, and not james lawlor's golden ring. it is of no use my resisting any more. i am a dead man's wife, and i cannot marry james lawlor.” the leaden ring 73 some years have elapsed since that disastrous day and that incomplete marriage. miss demant is miss demant still, and she has never been able to remove the leaden ring from the third finger of her left hand. whenever the attempt has been made, either to disengage it by drawing it off or by cutting through it, there has ensued that terrifying discharge as of a gun into her ear, causing insensibility. the prostration that has followed, the terror it has inspired, have so affected her nerves, that she has desisted from every attempt to rid herself of the ring. she invariably wears a glove on her left hand, and it is bulged over the third finger, where lies that leaden ring. she is not a happy woman, although her aunt is dead and has left her a handsome estate. she has not got many acquaintances. she has no friends; for her temper is unamiable, and her tongue is bitter. she supposes that the world, as far as she knows it, is in league against her. towards the memory of james hattersley she entertains a deadly hate. if an incantation could lay his spirit, if prayer could give him repose, she would have recourse to none of these expedients, even though they might relieve her, so bitter is her resentment. and she harbours a silent wrath against providence for allowing the dead to walk and to molest the living. the mother of pansies anna voss, of siebenstein, was the prettiest girl a in her village. never was she absent from a fair or a dance. no one ever saw her abroad anything but merry. if she had her fits of bad temper, she kept them for her mother, in the secrecy of the house. her voice was like that of the lark, and her smile like the may morning. she had plenty of suitors, for she was possessed of what a young peasant desires more in a wife than beauty, and that is money. but of all the young men who hovered about her, and sought her favour, none was destined to win it save joseph arler, the ranger, a man in a government position, whose duty was to watch the frontier against smugglers, and to keep an eye on the game against poachers. the eve of the marriage had come. one thing weighed on the pleasure-loving mind of anna. she dreaded becoming a mother of a family which would keep her at home, and occupy her from morn to eve in attendance on her children, and break the sweetness of her sleep at night. so she visited an old hag named schändelwein, who was a reputed witch, and to whom she confided her trouble. the old woman said that she had looked into the mirror of destiny, before anna arrived, and she had seen that providence had ordained that anna should have seven children, three girls and four boys, and that one of the latter was destined to be a priest. but mother schändelwein had great powers; she could 74 the mother of pansies 75 set at naught the determinations of providence; and she gave to anna seven pips, very much like apple-pips, which she placed in a cornet of paper; and she bade her cast these one by one into the mill-race, and as each went over the mill-wheel, it ceased to have a future, and in each pip was a child's soul. so anna put money into mother schändelwein's hand and departed, and when it was growing dusk she stole to the wooden bridge over the mill-stream, and dropped in one pip after another. as each fell into the water she heard a little sigh. but when it came to casting in the last of the seven she felt a sudden qualm, and a battle in her soul. however, she threw it in, and then, overcome by an impulse of remorse, threw herself into the stream to recover it, and as she did so she uttered a cry. but the water was dark, the floating pip was small, she could not see it, and the current was rapidly carrying her to the mill-wheel, when the miller ran out and rescued her. on the following morning she had completely recovered her spirits, and laughingly told her bridesmaids how that in the dusk, in crossing the wooden bridge, her foot had slipped, she had fallen into the stream, and had been nearly drowned. “and then,” added she, “if i really had been drowned, what would joseph have done?” the married life of anna was not unhappy. it could hardly be that in association with so genial, kind, and simple a man as joseph. but it was not altogether the ideal happiness anticipated by both. joseph had to be much away from home, sometimes for days and nights together, and anna found it very tedious to be alone. and joseph might have calculated on a more considerate wife. after a hard day of climbing and chasing in the mountains, he might have expected that she would have a good hot supper ready for him. but anna set before him 76 a book of ghosts whatever came to hand and cost least trouble. a healthy appetite is the best of sauces, she remarked. moreover, the nature of his avocation, scrambling up rocks and breaking through an undergrowth of brambles and thorns, produced rents and fraying of stockings and cloth garments. instead of cheerfully undertaking the repairs, anna grumbled over each rent, and put out his garments to be mended by others. it was only when repair was urgent that she consented to undertake it herself, and then it was done with sulky looks, muttered reproaches, and was executed so badly that it had to be done over again, and by a hired workwoman. but joseph's nature was so amiable, and he was so fond of his pretty wife, that he bore with those defects, and turned off her murmurs with a joke, or sealed her pouting lips with a kiss. there was one thing about joseph that anna could not relish. whenever he came into the village, he was surrounded, besieged by the children. hardly had he turned the corner into the square, before it was known that he was there, and the little ones burst out of their parents' houses, broke from their sister nurse's arms, to scamper up to joseph and to jump about him. for joseph somehow always had nuts or almonds or sweets in his pockets, and for these he made the children leap, or catch, or scramble, or sometimes beg, by putting a sweet on a boy's nose and bidding him hold it there, till he said “catch !” joseph had one particular favourite among all this crew, and that was a little lame boy with a white, pinched face, who hobbled about on crutches. him joseph would single out, take him on his knee, seat himself on the steps of the village cross or of the churchyard, and tell him stories of his adventures, of the habits of the beasts of the forest. anna, looking out of her window, could see all this; and see how before joseph set the poor cripple down, the mother of pansies 77 lrms ro the child would throw its arms round his neck and kiss him. then joseph would come home with his swinging step and joyous face. anna resented that his first attention should be given to the children, regarding it as her due, and she often showed her displeasure by the chill of her reception of her husband. she did not reproach him in set words, but she did not run to meet him, jump into his arms, and respond to his warm kisses. once he did venture on a mild expostulation. “annerl, why do you not knit my socks or stocking-legs? homemade is heart-made. it is a pity to spend money on buying what is poor stuff, when those made by you would not only last on my calves and feet, but warm the cockles of my heart.” to which she replied testily : “it is you who set the example of throwing money away on sweet things for those pestilent little village brats." one evening anna heard an unusual hubbub in the square, shouts and laughter, not of children alone, but of women and men as well, and next moment into the house burst joseph very red, carrying a cradle on his head. “what is this fooling for?” asked anna, turning crimson. “an experiment, annerl, dearest," answered joseph, setting down the cradle. "i have heard it said that a wife who rocks an empty cradle soon rocks a baby into it. so i have bought this and brought it to you. rock, rock, rock, and when i see a little rosebud in it among the snowy linen, i shall cry for joy." never before had anna known how dull and dead life could be in an empty house. when she had lived with her mother, that mother had made her do much of the necessary work of the house; now there was not much to be done, and there was no one to exercise compulsion, 78 a book of ghosts if anna ran out and visited her neighbours, they proved to be disinclined for a gossip. during the day they had to scrub and bake and cook, and in the evening they had their husbands and children with them, and did not relish the intrusion of a neighbour. the days were weary days, and anna had not the energy or the love of work to prompt her to occupy herself more than was absolutely necessary. consequently, the house was not kept scrupulously clean. the glass and the pewter and the saucepans did not shine. the window-panes were dull. the house linen was unhemmed. one evening joseph sat in a meditative mood over the fire, looking into the red embers, and what was unusual with him, he did not speak. anna was inclined to take umbrage at this, when all at once he looked round at her with his bright pleasant smile and said, “ annerl! i have been thinking. one thing is wanted to make us supremely happy—a baby in the house. it has not pleased god to send us one, so i propose that we both go on pilgrimage to mariahilf to ask for one." “go yourself—i want no baby here," retorted anna. a few days after this, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, came the great affliction on anna of her husband's death. joseph had been found shot in the mountains. he was quite dead. the bullet had pierced his heart. he was brought home borne on green fir-boughs interlaced, by four fellow-jägers, and they carried him into his house. he had, in all probability, met his death at the hand of smugglers. with a cry of horror and grief anna threw herself on joseph's body and kissed his pale lips. now only did she realise how deeply all along she had loved him—now that she had lost him. joseph was laid in his coffin preparatory to the interthe mother of pansies 79 ment on the morrow. a crucifix and two candles stood at his head on a little table covered with a white cloth. on a stool at his feet was a bowl containing holy water and a sprig of rue. a neighbour had volunteered to keep company with anna during the night, but she had impatiently, without speaking, repelled the offer. she would spend the last night that he was above ground alone with her deadalone with her thoughts. and what were those thoughts? now she remembered how indifferent she had been to his wishes, how careless of his comforts; how little she had valued his love, had appreciated his cheerfulness, his kindness, his forbearance, his equable temper. now she recalled studied coldness on her part, sharp words, mortifying gestures, outbursts of unreasoning and unreasonable petulance. now she recalled joseph scattering nuts among the children, addressing kind words to old crones, giving wholesome advice to giddy youths. she remembered now little endearments shown to her, the presents brought her from the fair, the efforts made to cheer her with his pleasant stories and quaint jokes. she heard again his cheerful voice as he strove to interest her in his adventures of the chase. as she thus sat silent, numbed by her sorrow, in the faint light cast by the two candles, with the shadow of the coffin lying black on the floor at her feet, she heard a stumping without; then a hand was laid on the latch, the door was timidly opened, and in upon his crutches came the crippled boy. he looked wistfully at her, but she made no sign, and then he hobbled to the coffin and burst into tears, and stooped and kissed the brow of his dead friend. leaning on his crutches, he took his rosary and said the prayers for the rest of her and his joseph's soul; then 80 a book of ghosts shuffled awkwardly to the foot, dipped the spray of rue, and sprinkled the dead with the blessed water. next moment the ungainly creature was stumping forth, but after he had passed through the door, he turned, looked once more towards the dead, put his hand to his lips, and waſted to it his final farewell. anna now took her beads and tried to pray, but her prayers would not leave her lips; they were choked and driven back by the thoughts which crowded up and bewildered her. the chain fell from her fingers upon her lap, lay there neglected, and then slipped to the floor. how the time passed she knew not, neither did she care. the clock ticked, and she heard it not; the hours sounded, and she regarded them not till in at her ear and through her brain came clear the call of the wooden cuckoo announcing midnight. her eyes had been closed. now suddenly she was roused, and they opened and saw that all was changed. the coffin was gone, but by her instead was the cradle that years ago joseph had brought home, and which she had chopped up for firewood. and now in that cradle lay a babe asleep, and with her foot she rocked it, and found a strange comfort in so doing. she was conscious of no sense of surprise, only a great welling up of joy in her heart. presently she heard a feeble whimper and saw a stirring in the cradle; little hands were put forth gropingly. then she stooped and lifted the child to her lap, and clasped it to her heart. oh, how lovely was that tiny creature! oh, how sweet in her ears its appealing cry! as she held it to her bosom the warm hands touched her throat, and the little lips were pressed to her bosom. she pressed it to her. she had entered into a new world, a world of love and light and beauty and happiness unspeakable. oh! the babe-the babe—the babe! she laughed and cried, and cried and laughed and sobbed for very exuberance of joy. it the mother of pansies 81 brought warmth to her heart, it made every vein tingle, it ingrained her brain with pride. it was hers!-her own!her very own! she could have been content to spend an eternity thus, with that little one close, close to her heart. then as suddenly all faded away—the child in her arms was gone as a shadow; her tears congealed, her heart was cramped, and a voice spoke within her : “ it is not, because you would not. you cast the soul away, and it went over the mill-wheel.” wild with terror, uttering a despairing cry, she started up, straining her arms after the lost child, and grasping nothing. she looked about her. the light of the candles flickered over the face of her dead joseph. and tick, tick, tick went the clock. she could endure this no more. she opened the door to leave the room, and stepped into the outer chamber and cast herself into a chair. and lo! it was no more night. the sun, the red evening sun, shone in at the window, and on the sill were pots of pinks and mignonette that filled the air with fragrance. and there at her side stood a little girl with shining fair hair, and the evening sun was on it like the glory about a saint. the child raised its large blue eyes to her, pure innocent eyes, and said: “mother, may i say my catechism and prayers before i go to bed ?". then anna answered and said: “oh, my darling! my dearest bärbchen! all the catechism is comprehended in this : love god, fear god, always do what is your duty. do his will, and do not seek only your own pleasure and ease. and this will give you peace-peace-peace.” the little girl knelt and laid her golden head on her folded hands upon anna's knee and began : “god bless dear father, and mother, and all my dear brothers and sisters.” instantly a sharp pang as a knife went through the heart of anna, and she cried : “thou hast no father and 82 a book of ghosts no mother and no brothers and no sisters, for thou art not, because i would not have thee. i cast away thy soul, and it went over the mill-wheel.” the cuckoo called one. the child had vanished. but the door was thrown open, and in the doorway stood a young couple—one a youth with fair hair and the down of a moustache on his lip, and oh, in face so like to the dead joseph. he held by the hand a girl, in black bodice and with white sleeves, looking modestly on the ground. at once anna knew what this signified. it was her son florian come to announce that he was engaged, and to ask his mother's sanction. then said the young man, as he came forward leading the girl : "mother, sweetest mother, this is susie, the baker's daughter, and child of your old and dear friend vronie. we love one another; we have loved since we were little children together at school, and did our lessons out of one book, sitting on one bench. and, mother, the bakehouse is to be passed on to me and to susie, and i shall bake for all the parish. the good jesus fed the multitude, distributing the loaves through the hands of his apostles. and i shall be his minister feeding his people here. mother, give us your blessing." then florian and the girl knelt to anna, and with tears of happiness in her eyes she raised her hands over them. but ere she could touch them all had vanished. the room was dark, and a voice spake within her: “there is no florian ; there would have been, but you would not. you cast his soul into the water, and it passed away for ever over the mill-wheel.” in an agony of terror anna sprang from her seat. she could not endure the room, the air stifled her; her brain was on fire. she rushed to the back door that opened on a kitchen garden, where grew the pot-herbs and cabbages for use, tended by joseph when he returned from his work in the mountains. loave, the good susie, an the mother of pansies 83 but she came forth on a strange scene. she was on a battlefield. the air was charged with smoke and the smell of gunpowder. the roar of cannon and the rattle of musketry, the cries of the wounded, and shouts of encouragement rang in her ears in a confused din. as she stood, panting, her hands to her breast, staring with wondering eyes, before her charged past a battalion of soldiers, and she knew by their uniforms that they were bavarians. one of them, as he passed, turned his face towards her; it was the face of an arler, fired with enthusiasm, she knew it; it was that of her son fritz. then came a withering volley, and many of the gallant fellows fell, among them he who carried the standard. instantly, fritz snatched it from his hand, waved it over his head, shouted, “charge, brothers, fill up the ranks! charge, and the day is ours !” then the remnant closed up and went forward with bayonets fixed, tramp, tramp. again an explosion of firearms and a dense cloud of smoke rolled before her and she could not see the result. she waited, quivering in every limb, holding her breathhoping, fearing, waiting. and as the smoke cleared she saw men carrying to the rear one who had been wounded, and in his hand he grasped the flag. they laid him at anna's feet, and she recognised that it was her fritz. she fell on her knees, and snatching the kerchief from her throat and breast, strove to stanch the blood that welled from his heart. he looked up into her eyes, with such love in them as made her choke with emotion, and he said faintly : “ mütterchen, do not grieve for me; we have stormed the redoubt, the day is ours. be of good cheer. they fly, they fly, those french rascals! mother, remember me-i die for the dear fatherland." and a comrade standing by said: “do not give way to your grief, anna arler; your son has died the death of a hero." 84 a book of ghosts then she stooped over him, and saw the glaze of death in his eyes, and his lips moved. she bent her ear to them and caught the words: “i am not, because you would not. there is no fritz ; you cast my soul into the brook and i was carried over the mill-wheel." all passed away, the smell of the powder, the roar of the cannon, the volumes of smoke, the cry of the battle, all—to a dead hush. anna staggered to her feet, and turned to go back to her cottage, and as she opened the door, heard the cuckoo call two. but, as she entered, she found herself to be, not in her own room and house-she had strayed into another, and she found herself not in a lone chamber, not in her desolate home, but in the midst of a strange family scene. a woman, a mother, was dying. her head reposed on her husband's breast as he sat on the bed and held her in his arms. the man had grey hair, his face was overflowed with tears, and his eyes rested with an expression of devouring love on her whom he supported, and whose brow he now and again bent over to kiss. about the bed were gathered her children, ay, and also her grandchildren, quitė young, looking on with solemn, wondering eyes on the last throes of her whom they had learned to cling to and love with all the fervour of their simple hearts. one mite held her doll, dangling by the arm, and the forefinger of her other hand was in her mouth. her eyes were brimming, and sobs came from her infant breast. she did not understand what was being taken from her, but she wept in sympathy with the rest. kneeling by the bed was the eldest daughter of the expiring woman, reciting the litany of the dying, and the sons and another daughter and a daughter-in-law repeated the responses in voices broken with tears. when the recitation of the prayers ceased, there ensued for a while a great stillness, and all eyes rested on the the mother of pansies 85 dying woman. her lips moved, and she poured forth her last petitions, that left her as rising flakes of fire, kindled by her pure and ardent soul. "o god, comfort and bless my dear husband, and ever keep thy watchful guard over my children and my children's children, that they may walk in the way that leads to thee, and that in thine own good time we may all-all be gathered in thy paradise together, united for evermore. amen." a spasm contracted anna's heart. this woman with ecstatic, upturned gaze, this woman breathing forth her peaceful soul on her husband's breast, was her own daughter elizabeth, and in the fine outline of her features was joseph's profile. all again was hushed. the father slowly rose and quitted his position on the bed, gently laid the head on the pillow, put one hand over the eyes that still looked up to heaven, and with the fingers of the other tenderly arranged the straggling hair on each side of the brow. then standing and turning to the rest, with a subdued voice he said : “my children, it has pleased the lord to take to himself your dear mother and my faithful companion. the lord's will be done.” then ensued a great burst of weeping, and anna's eyes brimmed till she could see no more. the church bell began to toll for a departing spirit. and following each stroke there came to her, as the after-clang of the boom : “there is not, there has not been, an elizabeth. there would have been all this—but thou wouldest it not. for the soul of thy elizabeth thou didst send down the millstream and over the wheel." frantic with shame, with sorrow, not knowing what she did, or whither she went, anna made for the front door of the house, ran forth and stood in the village square. to her unutterable amazement it was vastly changed. moreover, the sun was shining brightly, and it gleamed over a new parish church, of cut white stone, very stately, for a departing the after-clang of eth. there f cut prightly, avastly chann 86 a book of ghosts with a gilded spire, with windows of wondrous lacework. flags were flying, festoons of flowers hung everywhere. a triumphal arch of leaves and young birch trees was at the graveyard gate. the square was crowded with the peasants, all in their holiday attire. silent, anna stood and looked around. and as she stood she heard the talk of the people about her. one said : " it is a great thing that johann von arler has done for his native village. but see, he is a good man, and he is a great architect." “but why," asked another,“ do you call him von arler? he was the son of that joseph the jäger who was killed by the smugglers in the mountains.” “that is true. but do you not know that the king has ennobled him? he has done such great things in the residenz. he built the new town hall, which is thought to be the finest thing in bavaria. he added a new wing to the palace, and he has rebuilt very many churches, and designed mansions for the rich citizens and the nobles. but although he is such a famous man his heart is in the right place. he never forgets that he was born in siebenstein. look what a beautiful house he has built for himself and his family on the mountain-side. he is there in summer, and it is furnished magnificently. but he will not suffer the old, humble arler cottage here to be meddled with. they say that he values it above gold. and this is the new church he has erected in his native village—that is good.” “oh! he is a good man is johann; he was always a good and serious boy, and never happy without a pencil in his hand. you mark what i say. some day hence, when he is dead, there will be a statue erected in his honour here in this market-place, to commemorate the one famous man that has been produced by siebenstein. but see-see! here he comes to the dedication of the new church." the mother of pansies 87 then, through the throng advanced a blonde, middleaged man, with broad forehead, clear, bright blue eyes, and a flowing light beard. all the men present plucked off their hats to him, and made way for him as he advanced. but, full of smiles, he had a hand and a warm pressure, and a kindly word and a question as to family concerns, for each who was near. all at once his eye encountered that of anna. a flash of recognition and joy kindled it up, and, extending his arms, he thrust his way towards her, crying: “my mother! my own mother!” then just as she was about to be folded to his heart, all faded away, and a voice said in her soul: “he is no son of thine, anna arler. he is not, because thou wouldest not. he might have been, god had so purposed; but thou madest his purpose of none effect. thou didst send his soul over the mill-wheel.” and then faintly, as from a far distance, sounded in her ear the call of the cuckoo--three. the magnificent new church had shrivelled up to the original mean little edifice anna had known all her life. the square was deserted, the cold faint glimmer of coming dawn was visible over the eastern mountain-tops, but stars still shone in the sky. with a cry of pain, like a wounded beast, anna ran hither and thither seeking a refuge, and then fled to the one home and resting-place of the troubled soul—the church. she thrust open the swing-door, pushed in, sped over the uneven floor, and flung herself on her knees before the altar. but see! before that altar stood a priest in a vestment of black-and-silver; and a serving-boy knelt on his right hand on a lower stage. the candles were lighted, for the priest was about to say mass. there was a rustling of feet, a sound as of people entering, and many were kneeling, shortly after, on each side of anna, and still they came 88 a book of ghosts on; she turned about and looked and saw a great crowd pressing in, and strange did it seem to her eyes that allmen, women, and children, young and old-seemed to bear in their faces something, a trace only in many, of the arler or the voss features. and the little serving-boy, as he shifted his position, showed her his profile-it was like her little brother who had died when he was sixteen. then the priest turned himself about, and said, “oremus.” and she knew him-he was her own son-her joseph, named after his dear father. the mass began, and proceeded to the “sursum corda." —“lift up your hearts!”—when the celebrant stood facing the congregation with extended arms, and all responded : “we lift them up unto the lord.” but then, instead of proceeding with the accustomed invocation, he raised his hands high above his head, with the palms towards the congregation, and in a loud, stern voice exclaimed“cursed is the unfruitful field !" “ amen." “cursed is the barren tree!” “amen." “cursed is the empty house !" “amen." “cursed is the fishless lake!” “amen." “forasmuch as anna arler, born voss, might have been the mother of countless generations, as the sand of the seashore for number, as the stars of heaven for brightness, of generations unto the end of time, even of all of us now gathered together here, but she would not-therefore shall she be alone, with none to comfort her; sick, with none to minister to her; broken in heart, with none to bind up her wounds; feeble, and none to stay her up ; dead, and none to pray for her, for she would not-she shall have an unforgotten and unforgettable past, and have the mother of pansies 89 no future; remorse, but no hope; she shall have tears, but no laughter—for she would not. woe! woe! woe!” he lowered his hands, and the tapers were extinguished, the celebrant faded as a vision of the night, the server vanished as an incense-cloud, the congregation disappeared, melting into shadows, and then from shadows to nothingness, without stirring from their places, and without a sound. and anna, with a scream of despair, flung herself forward with her face on the pavement, and her hands extended. two years ago, during the first week in june, an english traveller arrived at siebenstein and put up at the “krone," where, as he was tired and hungry, he ordered an early supper. when that was discussed, he strolled forth into the village square, and leaned against the wall of the churchyard. the sun had set in the valley, but the mountain-peaks were still in the glory of its rays, surrounding the place as a golden crown. he lighted a cigar, and, looking into the cemetery, observed there an old woman, bowed over a grave, above which stood a cross, inscribed "joseph arler," and she was tending the flowers on it, and laying over the arms of the cross a little wreath of heart's-ease or pansy. she had in her hand a small basket. presently she rose and walked towards the gate, by which stood the traveller. as she passed, he said kindly to her : "grüss gott, mütterchen." she looked steadily at him and replied : “honoured sir ! that which is past may be repented of, but can never be undone !” and went on her way. he was struck with her face. he had never before seen one so full of boundless sorrow-almost of despair. his eyes followed her as she walked towards the millstream, and there she took her place on the wooden bridge that crossed it, leaning over the handrail, and looking down r the arms was tendino cross, 90 a book of ghosts into the water. an impulse of curiosity and of interest led him to follow her at a distance, and he saw her pick a flower, a pansy, out of her basket, and drop it into the current, which caught and carried it forward. then she took a second, and allowed it to fall into the water. then, after an interval, a third—a fourth ; and he counted seven in all. after that she bowed her head on her hands; her grey hair fell over them, and she broke into a paroxysm of weeping. the traveller, standing by the stream, saw the seven pansies swept down, and one by one pass over the revolving wheel and vanish. he turned himself about to return to his inn, when, seeing a grave peasant near, he asked: “who is that poor old woman who seems so broken down with sorrow?" “that,” replied the man, “is the mother of pansies." “the mother of pansies !” he repeated. "well—it is the name she has acquired in the place. actually, she is called anna arler, and is a widow. she was the wife of one joseph arler, a jäger, who was shot by smugglers. but that is many, many years ago. she is not right in her head, but she is harmless. when her husband was brought home dead, she insisted on being left alone in the night by him, before he was buried alone,—with his coffin. and what happened in that night no one knows. some affirm that she saw ghosts. i do not know—she may have had thoughts. the french word for these flowers is pensées—thoughts—and she will have none others. when they are in her garden she collects them, and does as she has done now. when she has none, she goes about to her neighbours and begs them. she comes here every evening and throws in seven-just seven, no more and no less—and then weeps as one whose heart would split. my wife on one occasion offered her forget-me-nots. "no,' she said ; 'i cannot send forget-me-nots after those who never were, i can send only pansies.'" the red-haired girl a wife's story tn 1876 we took a house in one of the best streets and i parts of b— i do not give the name of the street or the number of the house, because the circumstances that occurred in that place were such as to make people nervous, and shy—unreasonably so-of taking those lodgings, after reading our experiences therein. we were a small family—my husband, a grown-up daughter, and myself; and we had two maids-a cook, and the other was houseand parlourmaid in one. we had not been a fortnight in the house before my daughter said to me one morning : “ mamma, i do not like jane "—that was our house-parlourmaid. “why so?” i asked. “she seems respectable, and she does her work systematically. i have no fault to find with her, none whatever," “she may do her work,” said bessie, my daughter, “but i dislike inquisitiveness." “ inquisitiveness !" i exclaimed. “what do you mean? has she been looking into your drawers ?" “no, mamma, but she watches me. it is hot weather now, and when i am in my room, occasionally, i leave my door open whilst writing a letter, or doing any little bit of needlework, and then i am almost certain to hear her outside. if i turn sharply round, i see her slipping out of sight. it is most annoying. i really was unaware that i was such an interesting personage as to make it worth anyone's while to spy out my proceedings.” “nonsense, my dear. you are sure it is jane ?" 92 a book of ghosts “well—i suppose so.” there was a slight hesitation in her voice. "if not jane, who can it be?" “are you sure it is not cook ?" "oh, no, it is not cook; she is busy in the kitchen. i have heard her there, when i have gone outside my room upon the landing, after having caught that girl watching me." "if you have caught her,” said i, “i suppose you spoke to her about the impropriety of her conduct.” "well, caught is the wrong word. i have not actually caught her at it. only to-day i distinctly heard her at my door, and i saw her back as she turned to run away, when i went towards her.” “but you followed her, of course?" “yes, but i did not find her on the landing when i got outside." “where was she, then ?" “i don't know." “but did you not go and see?” "she slipped away with astonishing celerity," said bessie. “i can take no steps in the matter. if she does it again, speak to her and remonstrate." “but i never have a chance. she is gone in a moment." “she cannot get away so quickly as all that." “somehow she does." “and you are sure it is jane?” again i asked; and again she replied: "if not jane, who else can it be? there is no one else in the house." so this unpleasant matter ended, for the time. the next intimation of something of the sort proceeded from another quarter-in fact, from jane herself. she came to me some days later and said, with some embarrassment in her tone“ if you please, ma'am, if i do not give satisfaction, i would rather leave the situation.” “leave!” i exclaimed. “why, i have not given you the red-haired girl 93 the slightest cause. i have not found fault with you for anything as yet, have i, jane? on the contrary, i have been much pleased with the thoroughness of your work. and you are always tidy and obliging." " it isn't that, ma'am ; but i don't like being watched whatever i do." “watched !” i repeated. “what do you mean? you surely do not suppose that i am running after you when you are engaged on your occupations. i assure you i have other and more important things to do." “no, ma'am, i don't suppose you do." “then who watches you ?" “ i think it must be miss bessie." “miss bessie!” i could say no more, i was so astounded. “yes, ma'am. when i am sweeping out a room, and my back is turned, i hear her at the door; and when i turn myself about, i just catch a glimpse of her running away. i see her skirts " “miss bessie is above doing anything of the sort.” “if it is not miss bessie, who is it, ma'am?" there was a tone of indecision in her voice. “my good jane," said i, “set your mind at rest. miss bessie could not act as you suppose. have you seen her on these occasions and assured yourself that it is she?". “no, ma'am, i've not, so to speak, seen her face; but i know it ain't cook, and i'm sure it ain't you, ma'am ; so who else can it be?". i considered for some moments, and the maid stood before me in dubious mood. “you say you saw her skirts. did you recognise the gown? what did she wear?” " it was a light cotton print-more like a maid's morning dress." “well, set your mind at ease; miss bessie has not got such a frock as you describe.” "i don't think she has," said jane; “but there was " if it was a tone, of in 1, " set your "have you see?" ** 94 a book of ghosts someone at the door, watching me, who ran away when i turned myself about.” "did she run upstairs or down ?". “i don't know. i did go out on the landing, but there was no one there. i'm sure it wasn't cook, for i heard her clattering the dishes down in the kitchen at the time.” "well, jane, there is some mystery in this. i will not accept your notice; we will let matters stand over till we can look into this complaint of yours and discover the rights of it." “thank you, ma'am. i'm very comfortable here, but it is unpleasant to suppose that one is not trusted, and is spied on wherever one goes and whatever one is about.” a week later, after dinner one evening, when bessie and i had quitted the table and left my husband to his smoke, bessie said to me, when we were in the drawing-room together : "mamma, it is not jane." “what is not jane?” i asked. " it is not jane who watches me.” “who can it be, then ?" “i don't know." “and how is it that you are confident that you are not being observed by jane?” “because i have seen her—that is to say, her head.” “when? where ?" “whilst dressing for dinner, i was before the glass doing my hair, when i saw in the mirror someone behind me. i had only the two candles lighted on the table, and the room was otherwise dark. i thought i heard someone stirring—just the sort of stealthy step i have come to recognise as having troubled me so often. i did not turn, but looked steadily before me into the glass, and i could see reflected therein someone-a woman with red hair. then i moved from my place quickly. i heard steps of some person hurrying away, but i saw no one then.” “ the door was open ?” the red-haired girl 95 “no, it was shut.” “but where did she go?”. “ i do not know, mamma. i looked everywhere in the room and could find no one. i have been quite upset. i cannot tell what to think of this. i feel utterly unhinged.” "i noticed at table that you did not appear well, but i said nothing about it. your father gets so alarmed, and fidgets and fusses, if he thinks that there is anything the matter with you. but this is a most extraordinary story." "it is an extraordinary fact,” said bessie. "you have searched your room thoroughly ?" “i have looked into every corner.” “and there is no one there?" “no one. would you mind, mamma, sleeping with me to-night? i am so frightened. do you think it can be a ghost?” “ghost? fiddlesticks!" i made some excuse to my husband and spent the night in bessie's room. there was no disturbance that night of any sort, and although my daughter was excited and unable to sleep till long after midnight, she did fall into refreshing slumber at last, and in the morning said to me: “mamma, i think i must have fancied that i saw something in the glass. i dare say my nerves were overwrought.” i was greatly relieved to hear this, and i arrived at much the same conclusion as did bessie, but was again bewildered, and my mind unsettled by jane, who came to me just before lunch, when i was alone, and said “please, ma'am, it's only fair to say, but it's not miss bessie.” “what is not miss bessie? i mean, who is not miss bessie ?" “her as is spying on me.” “ i told you it could not be she. who is it?” “ please, ma'am, i don't know. it's a red-haired girl.” 96 a book of ghosts “but, jane, be serious. there is no red-haired girl in the house." "i know there ain't, ma'am. but for all that, she spies on me." “ be reasonable, jane,” i said, disguising the shock her words produced on me. “if there be no red-haired girl in the house, how can you have one watching you?” "i don't know; but one does." “how do you know that she is red-haired ?" “because i have seen her.” “when?" “this morning." "indeed?" “yes, ma'am. i was going upstairs, when i heard steps coming softly after me—the backstairs, ma'am; they're rather dark and steep, and there's no carpet on them, as on the front stairs, and i was sure i heard someone following me; so i twisted about, thinking it might be cook, but it wasn't. i saw a young woman in a print dress, and the light as came from the window at the side fell on her head, and it was carrots—reg'lar carrots.” "did you see her face ?" “no, ma'am ; she put her arm up and turned and ran downstairs, and i went after her, but i never found her.” “you followed her-how far?" “ to the kitchen. cook was there. and i said to cook, says i: 'did you see a girl come this way?' and she said, short-like: 'no.'” “and cook saw nothing at all?” "nothing. she didn't seem best pleased at my axing. i suppose i frightened her, as i'd been telling her about how i was followed and spied on." i mused a moment only, and then said solemnly" jane, what you want is a pill. you are suffering from hallucinations. i know a case very much like yours; and take my word for it that, in your condition of liver or the red-haired girl 97 digestion, a pill is a sovereign remedy. set your mind at rest; this is a mere delusion, caused by pressure on the optic nerve. i will give you a pill to-night when you go to bed, another to-morrow, a third on the day after, and that will settle the red-haired girl. you will see no more of her.” “you think so, ma'am ?” “i am sure of it." on consideration, i thought it as well to mention the matter to the cook, a strange, reserved woman, not given to talking, who did her work admirably, but whom, for some inexplicable reason, i did not like. if i had considered a little further as to how to broach the subject, i should perhaps have proved more successful; but by not doing so i rushed the question and obtained no satisfaction. i had gone down to the kitchen to order dinner, and the difficult question had arisen how to dispose of the scraps from yesterday's joint. “rissoles, ma'am ?". "no," said i,“not rissoles. your master objects to them." " then perhaps croquettes ?” “ they are only rissoles in disguise." “ perhaps cottage pie ?” “no; that is inorganic rissole, a sort of protoplasm out of which rissoles are developed." “then, ma'am, i might make a hash." “not an ordinary, barefaced, rudimentary hash ?” “no, ma'am, with french mushrooms, or truffles, or tomatoes.” “well-yes-perhaps. by the way, talking of tomatoes, who is that red-haired girl who has been about the house ?" “can't say, ma'am.” i noticed at once that the eyes of the cook contracted, her lips tightened, and her face assumed a half-defiant, half-terrified look. “ you have not many friends in this place, have you, cook?" 98 a book of ghosts “no, ma'am, none." “then who can she be?" “can't say, ma'am.” “you can throw no light on the matter? it is very unsatisfactory having a person about the house and she has been seen upstairs-of whom one knows nothing." “no doubt, ma'am.” “and you cannot enlighten me?” “she is no friend of mine." “nor is she of jane's. jane spoke to me about her. has she remarked concerning this girl to you ?" “ can't say, ma'am, as i notice all jane says. she talks a good deal.” “you see, there must be someone who is a stranger and who has access to this house. it is most awkward.” “very so, ma'am.” · i could get nothing more from the cook. i might as well have talked to a log; and, indeed, her face assumed a wooden look as i continued to speak to her on the matter. so i sighed, and said, “very well, hash with tomato," and went upstairs. a few days later the house-parlourmaid said to me, “please, ma'am, may i have another pill?” “pill!” i exclaimed. “why?". “because i have seen her again. she was behind the curtains, and i caught her putting out her red head to look at me." “did you see her face ?" “no; she up with her arm over it and scuttled away." “this is strange. i do not think i have more than two podophyllin pills left in the box, but to those you are welcome. only i should recommend a different treatment. instead of taking them yourself, the moment you see, or fancy that you see, the red-haired girl, go at her with the box and threaten to administer the pills to her. that will rout her, if anything will." the red-haired girl "but she will not stop for the pills." "the threat of having them forced on her every time she shows herself will disconcert her. conceive, i am supposing, that on each occasion miss bessie, or i, were to meet you on the stairs, in a room, on the landing, in the hall, we were to rush on you and force, let us say, castor-oil globules between your lips. you would give notice at once." “yes; so i should, ma'am.” "well, try this upon the red-haired girl. it will prove infallible.” “thank you, ma'am ; what you say seems reasonable.” whether bessie saw more of the puzzling apparition, i cannot say. she spoke no further on the matter to me; but that may have been so as to cause me no further uneasiness. i was unable to resolve the question to my own satisfaction—whether what had been seen was a real person, who obtained access to the house in some unaccountable manner, or whether it was, what i have called it, an apparition. as far as i could ascertain, nothing had been taken away. the movements of the red-haired girl were not those of one who sought to pilfer. they seemed to me rather those of one not in her right mind; and on this supposition i made inquiries in the neighbourhood as to the existence in our street, in any of the adjoining houses, of a person wanting in her wits, who was suffered to run about at will. but i could obtain no information that at all threw light on a point to me so perplexing. hitherto i had not mentioned the topic to my husband. i knew so well that i should obtain no help from him, that i made no effort to seek it. he would “pish!” and “pshaw!” and make some slighting reference to women's intellects, and not further trouble himself about the matter. but one day, to my great astonishment, he referred to it himself. 100 a book of ghosts “julia,” said he, "do you observe how i have cut myself in shaving ?" “yes, dear," i replied. “you have cotton-wool sticking to your jaw, as if you were growing a white whisker on one side.” “ it bled a great deal,” said he. “ i am sorry to hear it.” “and i mopped up the blood with the new toilet-cover." “never!" i exclaimed. “you haven't been so foolish as to do that?” “yes. and that is just like you. you are much more concerned about your toilet-cover being stained than about my poor cheek which is gashed.” “you were very clumsy to do it," was all i could say. married people are not always careful to preserve the amenities in private life. it is a pity, but it is so. "it was due to no clumsiness on my part," said he; “though i do allow my nerves have been so shaken, broken, by married life, that i cannot always command my hand, as was the case when i was a bachelor. but this time it was due to that new, stupid, red-haired servant you have introduced into the house without consulting me or my pocket.” “red-haired servant !" i echoed. “yes, that red-haired girl i have seen about. she thrusts herself into my study in a most offensive and objectionable way. but the climax of all was this morning, when i was shaving. i stood in my shirt before the glass, and had lathered my face, and was engaged on my right jaw, when that red-haired girl rushed between me and the mirror with both her elbows up, screening her face with her arms, and her head bowed. i started back, and in so doing cut myself.” “where did she come from?” “how can i tell? i did not expect to see anyone." “then where did she go?” the red-haired girl 101 “i do not know ; i was too concerned about my bleeding jaw to look about me. that girl must be dismissed.” "i wish she could be dismissed," i said. “what do you mean?” i did not answer my husband, for i really did not know what answer to make. i was now the only person in the house who had not seen the red-haired girl, except possibly the cook, from whom i could gather nothing, but whom i suspected of knowing more concerning this mysterious apparition than she chose to admit. that what had been seen by bessie and jane was a supernatural visitant, i now felt convinced, seeing that it had appeared to that least imaginative and most commonplace of all individuals, my husband. by no mental process could he have been got to imagine anything. he certainly did see this red-haired girl, and that no living, corporeal maid had been in his dressing-room at the time i was perfectly certain. i was soon, however, myself to be included in the number of those before whose eyes she appeared. it was in this wise. cook had gone out to do some marketing. i was in the breakfast-room, when, wanting a funnel to fill a little phial of brandy i always keep on the washstand in case of emergencies, i went to the head of the kitchen stairs, to descend and fetch what i required. then i was aware of a great clattering of the fire-irons below, and a banging about of the boiler and grate. i went down the steps very hastily and entered the kitchen. there i saw a figure of a short, set girl in a shabby cotton gown, not over clean, and slipshod, stooping before the stove, and striking the fender with the iron poker. she had fiery red hair, very untidy. i uttered an exclamation. instantly she dropped the poker, and covering her face with her arms, uttering a strange, low cry, she dashed 102 a book of ghosts round the kitchen table, making nearly the complete circuit, and then swept past me, and i heard her clattering up the kitchen stairs. i was too much taken aback to follow. i stood as one petrified. i felt dazed and unable to trust either my eyes or my ears. something like a minute must have elapsed before i had sufficiently recovered to turn and leave the kitchen. then i ascended slowly and, i confess, nervously. i was fearful lest i should find the red-haired girl cowering against the wall, and that i should have to pass her. but nothing was to be seen. i reached the hall, and saw that no door was open from it except that of the breakfast-room. i entered and thoroughly examined every recess, corner, and conceivable hiding-place, but could find no one there. then i ascended the staircase, with my hand on the balustrade, and searched all the rooms on the first floor, without the least success. above were the servants' apartments, and i now resolved on mounting to them. here the staircase was uncarpeted. as i was ascending, i heard jane at work in her room. i then heard her come out hastily upon the landing. at the same moment, with a rush past me, uttering the same moan, went the red-haired girl. i am sure i felt her skirts sweep my dress. i did not notice her till she was close upon me, but i did distinctly see her as she passed. i turned, and saw no more. i at once mounted to the landing where was jane. “what is it?" i asked. "please, ma'am, i've seen the red-haired girl again, and i did as you recommended. i went at her rattling the pill-box, and she turned and ran downstairs. did you see her, ma'am, as you came up?". “how inexplicable !” i said. i would not admit to jane that i had seen the apparition. the situation remained unaltered for a week. the the red-haired girl 103 mystery was unsolved. no fresh light had been thrown on it. i did not again see or hear anything out of the way; nor did my husband, i presume, for he made no further remarks relative to the extra servant who had caused him so much annoyance. i presume he supposed that i had summarily dismissed her. this i conjectured from a smugness assumed by his face, such as it always acquired when he had carried a point against me—which was not often. however, one evening, abruptly, we had a new sensation. my husband, bessie, and i were at dinner, and we were partaking of the soup, jane standing by, waiting to change our plates and to remove the tureen, when we dropped our spoons, alarmed by fearful screams issuing from the kitchen. by the way, characteristically, my husband finished his soup before he laid down the spoon and said “good gracious! what is that ?” bessie, jane, and i were by this time at the door, and we rushed together to the kitchen stairs, and one after the other ran down them. i was the first to enter, and i saw cook wrapped in flames, and a paraffin lamp on the floor broken, and the blazing oil flowing over it. i had sufficient presence of mind to catch up the cocoanut matting which was not impregnated with the oil, and to throw it round cook, wrap her tightly in it, and force her down on the floor where not overflowed by the oil. i held her thus, and bessie succoured me. jane was too frightened to do other than scream. the cries of the burnt woman were terrible. presently my husband appeared. “dear me! bless me! good gracious!” he said. “you go away and fetch a doctor," i called to him; "you can be of no possible service here—you only get in our way.” “but the dinner?” 104 a book of ghosts “bother the dinner! run for a surgeon." in a little while we had removed the poor woman to her room, she shrieking the whole way upstairs; and, when there, we laid her on the bed, and kept her folded in the cocoanut matting till a medical man arrived, in spite of her struggles to be free. my husband, on this occasion, acted with commendable promptness; but whether because he was impatient for the completion of his meal, or whether his sluggish nature was for once touched with human sympathy, it is not for me to say. all i know is that, so soon as the surgeon was there, i dismissed jane with “there, go and get your master the rest of his dinner, and leave us with cook.” the poor creature was frightfully burnt. she was attended to devotedly by bessie and myself, till a nurse was obtained from the hospital. for hours she was as one mad with terror as much as with pain. next day she was quieter and sent for me. i hastened to her, and she begged the nurse to leave the room. i took a chair and seated myself by her bedside, and expressed my profound commiseration, and told her that i should like to know how the accident had taken place. “ma'am, it was the red-haired girl did it." “the red-haired girl!” “yes, ma'am. i took a lamp to look how the fish was getting on, and all at once i saw her rush straight at me, and i-i backed, thinking she would knock me down, and the lamp fell over and smashed, and my clothes caught, and " “oh, cook! you should not have taken the lamp." “it's done. and she would never leave me alone till she had burnt or scalded me. you needn't be afraid she don't haunt the house. it is me she has haunted, because of what i did to her.” “then you know her?” “she was in service with me, as kitchenmaid, at my last the red-haired girl 105 place, near cambridge. i took a sort of hate against her, she was such a slattern and so inquisitive. she peeped into my letters, and turned out my box and drawers, she was ever prying; and when i spoke to her, she was that saucy! i reg'lar hated her. and one day she was kneeling by the stove, and i was there, too, and i suppose the devil possessed me, for i upset the boiler as was on the hot-plate right upon her, just as she looked up, and it poured over her face and bosom, and arms, and scalded her that dreadful, she died. and since then she has haunted me. but she'll do so no more. she won't trouble you further. she has done for me, as she has always minded to do, since i scalded her to death." the unhappy woman did not recover. “dear me! no hope ? " said my husband, when informed that the surgeon despaired of her. " and good cooks are so scarce. by the way, that red-haired girl ?” "gone-gone for ever," i said. a professional secret m r. leveridge was in a solicitor's office at swanw ton. mr. leveridge had been brought up well by a sensible father and an excellent mother. his principles left nothing to be desired. his father was now dead, and his mother did not reside at swanton, but near her own relations in another part of england. joseph leveridge was a mild, inoffensive man, with fair hair and a full head. he was so shy that he did not move in society as he might have done had he been self-assertive. but he was fairly happy~not so happy as he might have been, for reasons to be shortly given. swanton was a small market-town, that woke into life every friday, which was market-day, burst into boisterous levity at the michaelmas fair, and then lapsed back into decorum; it was, except on fridays, somnolent during the day and asleep at night. swanton was not a manufacturing town. it possessed one iron foundry and a brewery, so that it afforded little employment for the labouring classes, yet the labouring classes crowded into it, although cottage rents were high, because the farmers could not afford, owing to the hard times, to employ many hands on the land, and because their wives and daughters desired the distractions and dissipations of a town, and supposed that both were to be found in superfluity at swanton. there was a large town hall with a magistrates' court, where the bench sat every month once. the church, in the centre of the town, was an imposing structure of 106 a professional secret 107 stone, very cold within. the presentation was in the hands of the simeonite trustees, so that the vicar was of the theological school-if that can be called a school where nothing is taught-called evangelical. the services ever long and dismal. the vicar slowly and impressively declaimed the prayers, preached lengthy sermons, and condemned the congregation to sing out of the mitre hymnal. the principal solicitor, mr. stork, was clerk of the petty sessions and registrar. he did a limited amount of legal work for the landed gentry round, was trustee to some widows and orphans, and was consulted by tottering yeomen as to their financial difficulties, lent them some money to relieve their immediate embarrassments, on the security of their land, which ultimately passed into his possession, to this gentleman mr. leveridge had been articled. he had been induced to adopt the legal profession, not from any true vocation, but at the instigation of his mother, who had urged him to follow in the professional footsteps of his revered father. but the occupation was not one that accorded with the tastes of the young man, who, notwithstanding his apparent mildness and softness, was not deficient in brains. he was a shrewd observer, and was endowed with a redundant imagination. from a child he had scribbled stories, and with his pencil had illustrated them; but this had brought upon him severe rebukes from his mother, who looked with disfavour on works of imagination, and his father had taken him across his knee, of course before he was adult, and had castigated him with the flat of the hairbrush for surreptitiously reading the arabian nights. mr. leveridge's days passed evenly enough; there was some business coming into the office on fridays, and none at all on sundays, on which day he wrote a long and affectionate letter to his widowed mother. he would have been a happy man, happy in a mild, 108 a book of ghosts lotus-eating way, but for three things. in the first place, he became conscious that he was not working in his proper vocation. he took no pleasure in engrossing deeds; indentures his soul abhorred. he knew himself to be capable of better things, and feared lest the higher faculties of his mind should become atrophied by lack of exercise. in the second place, he was not satisfied that his superior was a man of strict integrity. he had no reason whatever for supposing that anything dishonest went on in the office, but he had discovered that his “boss” was a daring and venturesome speculator, and he feared lest temptation should induce him to speculate with the funds of those to whom he acted as trustee. and joseph, with his high sense of rectitude, was apprehensive lest some day something might there be done, which would cause a crash. lastly, joseph leveridge had lost his heart. he was consumed by a hopeless passion for miss asphodel vincent, a young lady with a small fortune of about £400 per annum, to whom mr. stork was guardian and trustee. this young lady was tall, slender, willowy, had a sweet, madonna-like face, and like joseph himself was constitutionally shy; and she was unconscious of her personal and pecuniary attractions. she moved in the best society, she was taken up by the county people. no doubt she would be secured by the son of some squire, and settle down as lady bountiful in some parish; or else some wily curate with a moustache would step in and carry her off. but her bashfuluess and her indifference to men's society had so far protected her. she loved her garden, cultivated herbaceous plants, and was specially addicted to a rockery in which she acclimatised flowers from the alps. as mr. stork was her guardian, she often visited the office, when joseph flew, with heightened colour, to offer her a chair till mr. stork was disengaged. but conversation between them had never passed beyond generalities, a professional secret 109 mr. leveridge occasionally met her in his country walks, but never advanced in intimacy beyond raising his hat and remarking on the weather. probably it was the stimulus of this devouring and despairing passion which drove mr. leveridge to writing a novel, in which he could paint asphodel, under another name, in all her perfections. she should move through his story diffusing an atmosphere of sweetness and saintliness, but he could not bring himself to provide her with a lover, and to conclude his romance with her union to a being of the male sex. impressed as he had been in early youth by the admonitions of his mother, and the applications of the hairbrush by his father, that the imagination was a dangerous and delusive gift, to be restrained, not indulged, he resolved that he would create no characters for his story, but make direct studies from life. consequently, when the work was completed, it presented the most close portraits of a certain number of the residents in swanton, and the town in which the scene was laid was very much like swanton, though he called it buzbury. but to find a publisher was a more difficult work than to write the novel. mr. leveridge sent his ms. typewritten to several firms, and it was declined by one after another. at last, however, it fell into the hands of an unusually discerning reader, who saw in it distinct tokens of ability. it was not one to appeal to the general public. it contained no blood-curdling episodes, no hair-breadth escapes, no risky situations; it was simply a transcript of life in a little english country town. though not highspiced to suit the vulgar taste, still the reader and the publisher considered that there was a discerning public, small and select, that relished good, honest work of the jane austen kind, and the latter resolved on risking the production. accordingly he offered the author fifty pounds for the work, he buying all rights. joseph leveridge was ιιο a book of ghosts overwhelmed at the munificence of the offer, and accepted it gratefully and with alacrity. the next stage in the proceedings consisted in the revision of the proofs. and who that has not experienced it can judge of the sensation of exquisite delight afforded by this to the young author ? after the correction of his romance -if romance such a prosaic tale can be called-in print, with characteristic modesty leveridge insisted that his story should appear under an assumed name. what the name adopted was it does not concern the reader of this narrative to know. some time now elapsed before the book appeared, at the usual publishing time, in october. eventually it came out, and mr. leveridge received his six copies, neatly and quietly bound in cloth. he cut and read one with avidity, and at once perceived that he had overlooked several typographical errors, and wrote to the publisher to beg that these might be corrected in the event of a second edition being called for. on the morning following the publication and dissemination of the book, joseph leveridge lay in bed a little longer than usual, smiling in happy self-gratification at the thought that he had become an author. on the table by his bed stood his extinguished candle, his watch, and the book. he had looked at it the last thing before he closed his eyes in sleep. it was moreover the first thing that his eyes rested on when they opened. a fond mother could not have gazed on her new-born babe with greater pride and affection. whilst he thus lay and said to himself, “i really must -i positively must get up and dress!” he heard a stumping on the stairs, and a few moments later his door was burst open, and in came major dolgelly jones, a retired officer, resident in swanton, who had never before done him the honour of a call-and now he actually penetrated to joseph's bedroom. the major was hot in the face. he panted for breath, a professional secret i his cheeks quivered. the major was a man who, judging by what could be perceived of his intellectual gifts, could not have been a great acquisition to the army. he was a man who never could have been trusted to act a brilliant part. he was a creature of routine, a martinet; and since his retirement to swanton had been a passionate golfplayer and nothing else. “what do you mean, sir ? what do you mean?” spluttered he, "by putting me into your book?" “my book !” echoed joseph, affecting surprise. “what book do you refer to ?” “oh! it's all very well your assuming that air of injured innocence, your trying to evade my question. your sheepish expression does not deceive me. why—there is the book in question by your bedside." "i have, i admit, been reading that novel, which has recently appeared." "you wrote it. everyone in swanton knows it. i don't object to your writing a book; any fool can do thatespecially a novel. what i do object to is your putting me into it." “if i remember rightly,” said joseph, quaking under the bedclothes, and then wiping his upper lip on which a dew was forming, “ if i remember aright, there is in it a major who plays golf, and does nothing else; but his name is piper." “what do i care about a name? it is 1-1. you have put me in." “really, major jones, you have no justification in thus accusing me. the book does not bear my name on the back and title-page." “neither does the golfing retired military officer bear my name, but that does not matter. it is i myself. i am in your book. i would horsewhip you had i any energy left in me, but all is gone, gone with my personality into your book. nothing is left of me-nothing but a body ii2 a book of ghosts and a light tweed suit. l-i-have been taken out of myself and transferred to that, ” he used a naughty word, “ that book. how can i golf any more? walk the links any more with any heart? how can i putt a ball and follow it up with any feeling of interest ? i am but a carcass. my soul, my character, my individuality have been burgled. you have broken into my inside, and have despoiled me of my personality.” and he began to cry. "possibly," suggested mr. leveridge, “the author might--". "the author can do nothing. i have been robbed-my fine ethereal self has been purloined. i-dolgelly jones am only an outside husk. you have despoiled me of my richest jewel-myself.” “i really can do nothing, major." “i know you can do nothing, that is the pity of it. you have sucked all my spiritual being with its concomitants out of me, and cannot put it back again. you have used те ир.” then, wringing his hands, the major left the room, stumped slowly downstairs, and quitted the house. joseph leveridge rose from his bed and dressed in great perturbation of mind. here was a condition of affairs on which he had not reckoned. he was so distracted in mind that he forgot to brush his teeth. when he reached his little sitting-room he found that the table was laid for his breakfast, and that his landlady had just brought up the usual rashers of bacon and two boiled eggs. she was sobbing. “what is the matter, mrs. baker?” asked joseph. “has lasinia "_that was the name of the servant—" broken any more dishes?” “everything has happened,” replied the woman; "you have taken away my character." “i-i never did such a thing.” “oh, yes, sir, you have. all the time you've been writing, a professional secret 113 i've felt it going out of me like perspiration, and now it is all in your book.” “my book ! ” “yes, sir, under the name of mrs. brooks. but law! sir, what is there in a náme? you might have taken the name of baker and used that as you likes. there be plenty of bakers in england and the colonies. but it's my character, sir, you've taken away, and shoved it into your book.” then the woman wiped her eyes with her apron. "but really, mrs. baker, if there be a landlady in this novel of which you complain " “there is, and it is me.” “but it is a mere work of fiction." " it is not a work of fiction, it is a work of fact, and that a cruel fact. what has a poor lorn widow like me got to boast of but her character? i'm sure i've done well by you, and never boiled your eggs hard--and to use me like this.” "good gracious, dear mrs. baker!” “don't dear me, sir. if you had loved me, if you had been decently grateful for all i have done for you, and mended your socks too, you'd not have stolen my character from me, and put it into your book. ah, sir! you have dealt by me what i call regular shameful, and not like a gentleman. you have used me up." joseph was silent, cowed. he turned the rashers about on the dish with his fork in an abstracted manner. all desire to eat was gone from him. then the landlady went on : “and it's not me only as has to complain. there are three gentlemen outside sitting on the doorstep, awaiting of you. and they say that there they will remain, till you go out to your office. and they intend to have it out with you." joseph started from the chair he had taken, and went to the window, and threw up the sash. leaning out, he saw three hats below. it was as mrs. baker had intimated. three gentlemen were seated on 114 a book of ghosts the doorstep. one was the vicar, another his " boss” mr. stork, and the third was mr. wotherspoon. there could be no mistake about the vicar; he wore a chimney-pot hat of silk, that had begun to curl at the brim, anticipatory of being adapted as that of an archdeacon. moreover, he wore extensive, well-cultivated grey whiskers on each cheek. if we were inclined to adopt the modern careless usage, we might say that he grew whiskers on either cheek. but in strict accuracy that would mean that the whiskers grew indifferently, or alternatively, intermittently on one cheek or the other. this, however, was not the case, consequently we say on each cheek. these whiskers now waved and fluttered in the light air passing up and down the street. the second was mr. stork; he wore a stiff felt hat, his fiery hair showed beneath it, behind, and in front; when he lifted his head, the end of his pointed nose showed distinctly to joseph leveridge who looked down from above. the third, mr. wotherspoon, had a crushed brown cap on; he sat with his hands between his knees, dejected, and looking on the ground. mr. wotherspoon lived in swanton with his mother and three sisters. the mother was the widow of an officer, not well off. he was an agreeable man, an excellent player at lawn-tennis, croquet, golf, rackets, billiards, and cards. his age was thirty, and he had as yet no occupation. his mother gently, his sisters sharply, urged him to do something, so as to earn his livelihood. with his mother's death her pension would cease, and he could not then depend on his sisters. he always answered that something would turn up. occasionally he ran to town to look for employment, but invariably returned without having secured any, and with his pockets empty. he was so cheerful, so good-natured, was such good company, that everyone liked him, but also everyone was provoked at his sponging on his mother and sisters. a professional secret 115 “really,” said mr. leveridge, “ i cannot encounter those three. it is true that i have drawn them pretty accurately in my novel, and here they are ready to take me to account for so doing. i will leave the house by the back door.” without his breakfast, joseph fled; and having escaped from those who had hoped to intercept him, he made his way to the river. here were pleasant grounds, with walks laid out, and benches provided. the place was not likely to be frequented at that time of the morning, and mr. leveridge had half an hour to spare before he was due at the office. there, later, he was likely to meet his "boss”; but it was better to face him alone, than him accompanied by two others who had a similar grievance against him. he seated himself on a bench and thought. he did not smoke; he had promised his “mamma” not to do so, and he was a dutiful son, and regarded his undertaking. what should he do? he was becoming involved in serious embarrassments. would it be possible to induce the publisher to withdraw the book from circulation and to receive back the fifty pounds ? that was hardly possible. he had signed away all his rights in the novel, and the publisher had been to a considerable expense for paper, printing, binding, and advertising. he was roused from his troubled thoughts by seeing miss asphodel vincent coming along the walk towards him. her step had lost its wonted spring, her carriage its usual buoyancy. in a minute or two she would reach him. would she deign to speak? he felt no compunction towards her. he had made her his heroine in the tale. by not a word had he cast a shadow over her character or her abilities. indeed, he had pictured her as the highest ideal of an english girl. she might be flattered, she could not be offended. and yet there was no flattery in his pencilhe had sketched her in as she was. as she approached she noticed the young author. she 116 a book of ghosts did not hasten her step. she displayed a strange listlessness in her movements, and lack of vivacity in her eye. when she stood over against him, joseph leveridge rose and removed his hat. “an early promenade, miss vincent," he said. “oh!” she said, “i am glad to meet you here where we cannot be overheard. i have something about which i must speak to you, to complain of a great injury done to me.” “you do me a high honour," exclaimed joseph. "if i can do anything to alleviate your distress and to redress the wrong, command me." "you can do nothing. it is impossible to undo what has already been done. you put me into your book.” “miss vincent,” protested leveridge with vehemence, “if i have, what then? i have not in the least overcharged the colours, by a line caricatured you." it was in vain for him further to pretend not to be the author, and to have merely read the book. “that may be, or it may not. but you have taken strange liberties with me in transferring me to your pages." “and you really recognised yourself? ” "it is myself, my very self, who is there." “and yet you are here, before my humble self.” "that is only my outer shell. all my individuality, all that goes to make up the ego-i myself—has been taken from me and put into your book." "surely that cannot be." "but it is so. i feel precisely as i suppose felt my doll when i was a child, when it became unstitched and all the bran ran out; it hung limp like a rag. but it is not bran you have deprived me of, it is my personality.” “in my novel is your portraiture indeed—but you yourself are here,” said leveridge. "it is my very self, my noblest and best part, my moral a professional secret 117 and intellectual self, which has been carried off and put into your book.” “this is quite impossible, miss vincent.” “a moment's thought,” said she, “ will convince you that it is as i say. if i pick an alpine flower and transfer it to my blotting-book, it remains in the herbarium. it is no longer on the alp where it bloomed.” "but"urged joseph. "no," she interrupted, "you cannot undeceive me. no one can be in two places at the same time. if i am in your book, i cannot be here-except so far as goes my animal nature and frame. you have subjected me, mr. leveridge, to the greatest humiliation. i am by you reduced to the level of a score of girls that i know, with no pursuits, no fixed principles, no opinions of their own, no ideas. they are swayed by every fashion, they are moulded by their surroundings; they are destitute of what some would call moral fibre, and i would term character. i had all this, but you have deprived me of it, by putting it into your book. i shall henceforth be the sport of every breath, be influenced by every folly, be without self-confidence and decision, the prey to any adventurer.” "for heaven's sake, do not say that." “i cannot say anything other. if i had a sovereign in my purse, and a pickpocket stole it, i should no longer have the purse and sovereign, only the pocket; and i am a mere pocket now without the coin of my personality that you have filched from me. mr. leveridge, it was a cruel wrong you did me, when you used me up." then, sighing, miss asphodel went languidly on her way. joseph was as one stunned. he buried his face in his hands. the person of all others with whom he desired to stand well, that person looked upon him as her most deadly enemy, at all events as the one who had most cruelly aggrieved her. presently, hearing the clock strike, he started. he was 118 a book of ghosts due at the office, and joseph leveridge had always made a point of punctuality. he now went to the office, and learned from his fellowclerk that mr. stork had not returned; he had been there, and then had gone away to seek leveridge at his lodgings. joseph considered it incumbent on him to resume his hat and go in quest of his “boss." on his way it occurred to him that there was monotony in bacon and eggs for breakfast every morning, and he would like a change. moreover, he was hungry; he had left the house of mrs. baker without taking a mouthful, and if he returned now for a snack the eggs and the bacon would be cold. so he stepped into the shop of mr. box, the grocer, for a tin of sardines in oil. when the grocer saw him he said: “will you favour me with a word, sir, in the back shop?" “i am pressed for time," replied leveridge nervously. “but one word; i will not detain you," said mr. box, and led the way. joseph walked after him. "sir," said the grocer, shutting the glass door, "you have done me a prodigious wrong. you have deprived me of what i would not have lost for a thousand pounds. you have put me into your book. how my business will get on without me,i mean my intellect, my powers of organisation, my trade instincts, in a word, myself—i do not know. you have taken them from me and put them into your book. i am consigned to a novel, when i want all my powers behind the counter. possibly my affairs for a while will go on by the weight of their own momentum, but it cannot be for long without my controlling brain, sir, you have brought me and my family to ruin-you have used me up." leveridge could bear this no more; he seized the handle of the door, rushed through the outer shop, precipitated himself into the street, carrying the sardine tin in his hand, and hurried to his lodgings. a professional secret 119 but there new trouble awaited him. on the doorstep still sat the three gentlemen. when they saw him they rose to their feet. "i know, i know what you have to say,” gasped joseph. “in pity do not attack me all together. one at a time. with your leave, mr. vicar, will you step up first into my humble little sanctum, and i will receive the others later. i believe that the smell of bacon and eggs is gone from the room. i left the window open.” "i will most certainly follow you,” said the vicar of swanton. “this is a most serious matter." "excuse me, will you take a chair?" "no, thank you; i can speak best when on my legs. i lose impressiveness when seated. but i fear, alas! that gift has been taken from me. sir! sir! you have put me into your book. my earthly tabernacle may be here, standing on your-or mrs. baker's drugget—but all my great oratorical powers have gone. i have been despoiled of what was in me my highest, noblest, most spiritual parts. what my preaching henceforth will be i fear to contemplate. i may be able to string together a number of texts, and tack on an application, but that is mere mechanical work. i used to dredge in much florid eloquence, to stick in the flowers of elocution between every joint. and now !-i am despoiled of all. i, the vicar of swanton, shall be as a mere stick; i shall no more be a power in the pulpit, a force on the platform. my prospects in the diocese are put an end to. miserable, miserable young man, you might have pumped others, but why me? i know but too surely that you have used me up." the vicar had taken off his hat, his bald forehead was beaded, his bristling grey whiskers drooped, his unctuous expression had faded away. his eyes, usually bearing the look as though turned inward in ecstatic contemplation of his personal piety, with only a watery stare on the world without, were now dull. i 20 a book of ghosts he turned to the door. “i will send up stork,” he said. “do so by all means, sir," was all that joseph could say, when the solicitor entered his red hair had assumed a darker dye, through the moisture that exuded from his head. "mr. leveridge,” said he,“ this is a scurvy trick you have played me. you have put me into your book.” "i only sketched a not over-scrupulous lawyer," protested joseph. “why should you put the cap on your own head?" “because it fits. it is myself you have put into your book, and by no legal process can i get out of it. i shall not be competent to advise the magistrates on the bench, and, good heavens! what a mess they will get into. i do not know whether your fellow-clerk can carry on the business. i have been used up. i'll tell you what. you go away; i want you no more at the office. whenever you revisit swanton you will see only the ruins of the respected firm of stork. it cannot go on when i am not in it, but in your book.” the last to arrive was mr. wotherspoon. he was in a most depressed condition. “there was not much in me," said he, “not at any time. you might have spared such a trifle as me, and not put me also into your book and used me up. oh, dear, dear! what will my poor mother do! and how sarah and jane will bully me." that same day mr. leveridge packed up his traps and departed from swanton for his mother's house. that she was delighted to see him need not be said ; that something was wrong, her maternal instinct told her. but it was not for some days that he confided to her so much as this: “oh, mother, i have written a novel, and have put into it the people of swanton-and so have had to leave.” “my dear joe,” said the old lady, “you have done wrong a professional secret i 2-1 121 and made a great mistake. you never should introduce actual living personages into a work of fiction. you should pulp them first, and then run out your characters fresh from the pulp.” "i was so afraid of using my imagination,” explained joe. some months elapsed, and leveridge could not resolve on an employment that would suit him and at the same time maintain him. the fifty pounds he had earned would not last long. he began to be sensible of the impulse to be again writing. he resisted it for a while, but when he got a letter from his publisher, saying that the novel had sold well, far better than had been expected, and that he would be pleased to consider another from mr. leveridge's pen, and could promise him for it more liberal terms, then joseph's scruples vanished. but on one thing he was resolved. he would now create his characters. they should not be taken from observation. moreover, he determined to differentiate his new work from the old in other material points. his characters should be the reverse of those in the first novel. for his heroine he imagined a girl of boisterous spirits, straightforward, true, but somewhat unconventional, and given to use slang expressions. he had never met with such a girl, so that she would be a pure creation of his brain, and he made up his mind to call her poppy. then he would avoid drawing the portrait of an evangelical parson, and introduce one decidedly high church; he would have no heavy, narrow tradesman like box, but a man full of venture and speculative push. moreover, having used up the not over-scrupulous lawyer, he would portray one, the soul of honour, the confidant of not only the county gentry but of the county nobility. and as he had caused so much trouble by the introduction of good old mother baker, he would trace the line of a lively, skittish young widow, always on the hunt after admirers, and endeavouring to entangle the youths who lodged with her. 122 a book of ghosts as he went on with his story, it worked out to his satisfaction, and what especially gratified him and gave repose to his mind was the consciousness that he was using no one up, with whom he was acquainted, and that all his characters were pure creations. the work was complete, and the publisher agreed to give a hundred pounds for it. then it passed through the press, and in due course leveridge heard from the publisher that his six free copies had been sent off to him by train. joseph was almost as excited over his second novel as he was over the first. he was too impatient to wait till the parcels were sent round in the ordinary way. he hurried to the station in the evening, to meet the train from town, by which he expected his consignment; and having secured it, he hurried home, carrying the heavy parcel. his mother's house was comparatively large; she occupied but a corner of it, and she had given over to her son a little cosy sitting-room, in which he might write and read. into this room joseph carried his parcel, full of impatience to cut the string and disclose the volumes. but he had hardly passed through his door before he was startled to see that his room was full of people; all but one were seated about the table. that one who was not, lounged against the bookcase, standing on one foot. with a shock of surprise, joseph recognised all those there gathered together. they were the characters in his book, his own creations. and that individual who stood, in an indifferent attitude, was his new heroine, poppy. the first shock of surprise rapidly passed. joseph leveridge felt no fear, but rather a sense of pleasure. he was in the presence of his own creations, and knew them familiarly. there were seven in all. at his appearance they all saluted him respectfully as their creator-all except poppy, who gave him a wink and a nod. at the head of the table sat the high church parson, a professional secret 123 shaven, with a long coat and a grave face, next to him, on the right, lady mabel forraby, a tall, elderly, aristocraticlooking woman, the aunt of poppy. one element of lightness in the book had consisted in the struggles of lady mabel to control her wayward niece and the revolt of the latter. mr. leveridge had never known a person of title in his life, so that lady mabel was a pure creation; so also, brought up, as he had been, by a calvinistic mother, and afterwards thrown under the ministry of the vicar of swanton, he had not once come across a ritualist. consequently his parson, in this instance, was also a pure creation. a young gentleman, the hero of the novel, a bright intelligent fellow, full of vigour and good sense, and highly cultured, sat next to lady mabel. joseph had never been thrown into association with men of quite this type. he had met nice respectable clerks and amusing and agreeable travellers for commercial houses, so that this personage also was a creation. so most certainly was the bold, pert little widow who rolled her eyes and put on winsome airs. joseph had kept clear of all such instances, but he had heard and read of them. she could look to him as her creator. and that naughty little poppy! her naughtiness was all mischief, put on to aggravate her staid old aunt, so full of daring, and yet withal so steady of heart; so full of frolic, but with principle underlying it all. joseph had never encountered anyone like her, anyone approaching to her. the young ladies to whom his mother introduced him were all very prim and proper. at swanton he had been little in society: the vicar's daughter was a tract distributer and a mission woman, and mr. stork's daughter a domestic drudge. of all the characters in joseph's book she was his most especial and delightful creation. then the white-haired family lawyer, fond of his jokes, able to tell a good story, close as a walnut relative to all matters communicated to him, strict and honourable in all 124 a book of ghosts his dealings, content with his small earnings, and frugally laying them by. joseph had not met such a man, but he had idealised him as the sort of lawyer he would wish to be should he stick to his profession. he also, accordingly, was a creation. and last, but not least, was the red-faced, audacious stockbroker; a man of sharp and quick determination, who saw a chance in a moment and closed on it, who was keen of scent and smelt a risky investment the moment it came before him. joseph knew no stockbroker -had only heard of them by rumour. he, therefore, was a creation. "well, my children, not of my loins, but of my brain," said the author. "what do you all want?”. “ bodies,” they replied with one voice. " bodies !" gasped joseph, stepping backwards. “why, what possesses you all ? you can't expect me to furnish you with them." "but, indeed, we do, old chap," said poppy. “ niece!” said lady mabel, turning about in her chair, “address your creator with more respect." “ stay, my lady," said the parson. “allow me to explain matters to mr. leveridge. he is young and an inexperienced writer of fiction, and is therefore unaware of the exigencies of his profession. you must know, dear author of our being, that every author of a work of imagination, such as you have been, lays himself under a moral and an inexorable obligation to find bodies for all those whom he has called into existence through his fertile brain. mr. leveridge has not mixed in the literary world, he does not belong to the society of authors. he ishe will excuse the expression-raw in his profession. it is a well-known law among novelists that they must furnish bodies for such as they have called into existence out of their pure imagination. for this reason they invariably call their observation to their assistance, and they balance in their books the creations with the tranexpinexperiencecies of his hat every ay a professional secret 125 scripts from life. the only exception to this rule that i am aware of," continued the parson," is where the author is able to get his piece dramatised, in which case, of course, the difficulty ceases." "i should love to go on the stage,” threw in poppy. “niece, you do not know what you say,” remarked lady mabel, turning herself about. “allow me, my lady," said the parson. “what i have said is fact, is it not?” "most certainly,” replied all. lady mabel said: "i suppose it is." “then," pursued the parson, “the situation is this: have you secured the dramatisation of your novel ?". “i never gave it a thought,” said joseph. “ in that case, as there is no prospect of our being so accommodated, the position is this: we shall have to haunt you night and day, mainly at night, till you have accommodated us with bodies; we cannot remain as phantom creations of a highly imaginative soul such as is yours, mr. leveridge. if you have your rights, so have we. and we insist on ours, and will insist till we are satisfied.” at once all vanished. joseph leveridge felt that he had got himself into a worse hobble than before. from his former difficulties he had escaped by flight. but there was, he feared, no flying from these seven impatient creations all clamouring for bodies, and to provide them with such was beyond his powers. all his delight in the publication of his new novel was spent. it had brought with it care and perplexity. he went to bed. during the night, he was troubled with his characters; they peeped in at him. poppy got a peacock's feather and tickled his nose just as he was dropping asleep. “you bounder!” she said ; " i shall give you no peace till you have settled me into a body-but oh! get me on to the stage if you can." 126 a book of ghosts “poppy, come away,” called lady mabel. “don't be improper. mr. leveridge will do his best. i want a body quite as much as do you, but i know how to ask for it properly." "and i," said the parson, “should like to have mine before easter, but have one i must." mr. leveridge's state now was worse than the first. one or other of his creatures was ever watching him. his every movement was spied on. there was no escaping their vigilance. sometimes they attended him in groups of two or three; sometimes they were all around him. at meals not one was missing, and they eyed every mouthful of his food as he raised it to his lips. his mother saw nothing—the creations were invisible to all eyes save those of their creator. if he went out for a country walk, they trotted forth with him, some before, looking round at every turn to see which way he purposed going, some following. poppy and the skittish widow managed to attach themselves to him, one on each side. "i hate that little woman,” said poppy. “why did you call her into being?" "i never dreamed that things would come to this pass.” “i am convinced, creator dear, that there is a vein of wickedness in your composition, or you would never have imagined such a minx, good and amiable and butterwon't-melt-in-your-mouth though you may look. and there must be a frolicsome devil in your heart, or i should never have become.” “indeed, poppy, i am very glad that i gave you being. but one may have too much even of a good thing, and there are moments when i could dispense with your presence." "i know, when you want to carry on with the widow. she is always casting sheep's eyes at you.” “but, poppy, you forget my hero, whom i created on purpose for you.” 27./2undy smillo if he went out for a walk they trotted forth with him, some before, some following a professional secret 127 "all my attention is now engrossed in you, and will be till you provide me with a body." when leveridge was in his room reading, if he raised his eyes from his book they met the stare of one of his characters. if he went up to his bedroom, he was followed. if he sat with his mother, one kept guard. this was become so intolerable, that one evening he protested to the stockbroker, who was then in attendance. “do, i entreat you, leave me to myself. you treat me as if i were a lunatic and about to commit felo de se, and you were my warders." “we watch you, sir," said the stockbroker, “in our own interest. we cannot suffer you to give us the slip. we are all expectant and impatient for the completion of what you have begun." then the parson undertook to administer a lecture on duty, on responsibilities contracted to those called into partial existence by a writer of fiction. he cannot be allowed to half do his work. his creations must be realised, and can only be realised by being given a material existence. “but what the dickens can i do? i cannot fabricate bodies for you, i never in my life even made a doll." “have you no thought of dramatising us?” “i know no dramatic writers." "do it yourself.” “does not this sort of work require a certain familiarity with the technique of the stage which i do not possess ?” "that might be attended to later. pass your ms. through the hands of a dramatic expert, and pay him a percentage of your profits in recognition of his services. only one thing i bargain for, do not present me on the stage in such a manner as to discredit my cloth.” " have i done so in my book ?" “no, indeed, i have nothing to complain of in that. but there is no counting on what poppy may persuade 128 a book of ghosts you into doing, and i fear that she is gaining influence over you. remember, she is your creation, and you must not suffer her to mould you." the idea took root. the suggestion was taken up, and joseph leveridge applied himself to his task with zest. but he had to conceal what he was about from his mother, who had no opinion of the drama, and regarded the theatre as a sink of iniquity. but now new difficulties arose. joseph's creations would not leave him alone for a moment. each had a suggestion, each wanted his or her own part accentuated at the expense of the other. each desired the heightening of the situations in which they severally appeared. the clamour, the bickering, the interference made it impossible for joseph to collect his thoughts, keep cool, and proceed with his work. sunday arrived, and joseph drew on his gloves, put on his box-hat, and offered his arm to his mother, to conduct her to chapel. all the characters were drawn up in the hall to accompany them. joseph and his mother walking down the street to ebenezer chapel presented a picture of a good and dutiful son and of a pious widow not to be surpassed. poppy and the widow entered into a struggle as to which was to walk on the unoccupied side of joseph. if this had been introduced into the picture it would have marred it; but happily this was invisible to all eyes save those of joseph. the rest of the imaginary party walked arm in arm behind till the chapel was reached, when the parson started back. "i am not going in there! it is a schism-shop," he exclaimed. “nothing in the world would induce me to cross the threshold.” “and i," said lady mabel, “i have no idea of attending a place of worship not of the established church.” " i'll go in-if only to protect creator from the widow.” said poppy. a professional secret 129 joseph and his mother entered, and occupied their pew. the characters, with the exception of the parson and the old lady, grouped themselves where they were able. the stockbroker stood in the aisle with his arms on the pew door, to ensure that joseph was kept a prisoner there. but before the service had advanced far he had gone to sleep. this was the more to be regretted, as the minister delivered a very strong appeal to the unconverted, and if ever there was an unconverted worldling, it was that stockbroker. the skittish widow was leering at a deacon of an amorous complexion, but as he did not, and, in fact, could not see her, all her efforts were cast away. the solicitor sat with stolid face and folded hands, and allowed the discourse to flow over him like a refreshing douche. poppy had got very tired of the show, and had slunk away to rejoin her aunt. the hero closed his eyes and seemed resigned. after nearly an hour had elapsed, whilst a hymn was being sung, joseph, more to himself than to his mother, said : "can i escape ?" “escape what? wretch ?" inquired the widowed lady. “i think i can do it. there's a room at the side for earnest inquirers, or a vestry or something, with an outer door. i will risk it, and make a bolt for my liberty.” he very gently and cautiously unhasped the door of the pew, and as he slid it open, the sleeping stockbroker, still sleeping and unconscious, slipped back, and joseph was out. he made his way into the room at the side, forth from the actual chapel, ran through it, and tried the door that opened into a side lane. it was locked, but happily the key was in its place. he turned it, plunged forth, and fell into the arms of his characters. they were all there. the solicitor had been observing him out of the corner of his eye, and had given the alarm. the stockbroker was aroused, and he, the solicitor, the hero, ran out, gave the 130 a book of ghosts alarm to the three without, and joseph was intercepted, and his attempt at escape frustrated. he was reconducted home by them, himself dejected, they triumphant. when his mother returned she was full of solicitude. “what was the matter, joe dear?” she inquired. “i wasn't feeling very well,” he explained. “but i shall be better presently." "i hope it will not interfere with your appetite, joe. i have cold lamb and mint-sauce for our early dinner.” “i shall peck a bit, i trust," said mr. leveridge. but during dinner he was abstracted and silent. all at once he brought down his fist on the table. “i've hit it!” he exclaimed, and a flush of colour mantled his face to the temples. “my dear," said his mother ; "you have made all the plates and dishes jump, and have nearly upset the waterbottle." “excuse me, mother; i really must go to my room." he rose, made a sign to his characters, and they all rose and trooped after him into his private apartment when they were within he said to his hero : “may i trouble you kindly to shut the door and turn the key? my mother will be anxious and come after me, and i want a word with you all. it will not take two minutes. i see my way to our mutual accommodation. do not be uneasy and suspicious; i will make no further attempt at evasion. meet me to-morrow morning at the 9.48 down train. i am going to take you all with me to swanton.” a tap at the door. “open—it is my mother,” said joseph. mrs. leveridge entered with a face of concern. "what is the matter with you, joe ?” she said. "if we were not both of us water-drinkers, i should say that you had been indulging in-spirits." " mother, i must positively be off to swanton to a professional secret 131 morrow morning. i see my way now, all will come right.” “how, my precious boy?" "i cannot explain. i see my way to clearing up the unpleasantness caused by that unfortunate novel of mine. pack my trunk, mother." "not on the sabbath, lovie.” “no-to-morrow morning. i start by the 9.48 a.m. we all go together.” “we-am i to accompany you ?" “no, no. we did i say? it is a habit i have got into as an author. authors, like royal personages, speak of themselves as we.” joseph leveridge was occupied during the afternoon in writing to his victims at swanton. first, he penned a notice to mrs. baker that he would require his lodgings from the morrow, and that he had something to say to her that would afford her much gratification. then he wrote to the vicar, expressed his regret for having deprived him of his personality, and requested him, if he would do him the favour, to call in the evening at 7.30, at his lodgings in west street. he had something of special importance to communicate to him. he apologised for not himself calling at the vicarage, but said that there were circumstances that made it more desirable that he should see his reverence privately in his own lodgings. next, he addressed an epistle to mr. stork. he assured him that he, joseph leveridge, had felt keenly the wrong he had done him, that he had forfeited his esteem, had ill repaid his kindness, had acted in a manner towards his employer that was dishonourable. but, he added, he had found a means of rectifying what was wrong. he placed himself unreservedly in the hands of mr. stork, and entreated him to meet him at his rooms in west street on the ensuing monday evening at 7.45, when he sincerely 132 a book of ghosts trusted that the past would be forgotten, and a brighter future would be assured. this was followed by a formal letter couched to mr. box. he invited him to call at mrs. baker's lodgings on that same evening at 8 p.m., as he had business of an important and far-reaching nature to discuss with him. if mr. box considered that he, joseph leveridge, had done him an injury, he was ready to make what reparation lay in his power. taking a fresh sheet of notepaper, he now wrote a fifth letter, this to mr. wotherspoon, requesting the honour of a call at his “diggings” at 8.15 p.m., when matters of controversy between them could be amicably adjusted. the ensuing letter demanded some deliberation. it was to asphodel. he wrote it out twice before he was satisfied with the mode in which it was expressed. he endeavoured to disguise under words full of respect, yet not disguise too completely, the sentiments of his heart. but he was careful to let drop nothing at which she might take umbrage. he entreated her to be so gracious as to allow him an interview by the side of the river at the hour of 8.30 on the monday evening. he apologised for venturing to make such a demand, but he intimated that the matter he had to communicate was so important and so urgent, that it could not well be postponed till tuesday, and that it was also most necessary that the interview should be private. it was something he had to say that would materially—no, not materially, but morally-affect her, and would relieve his mind from a burden of remorse that had become to him wholly intolerable. the final, the seventh letter, was to major dolgelly jones, and was more brief. it merely intimated that he had something of the utmost importance to communicate to his private ear, and for this purpose he desired the favour of a call at mrs. baker's lodgings, at 8.45 on monday evening. these letters despatched, mr. leveridge felt easier in a professional secret 133 mind and lighter at heart. he slept well the ensuing night, better than he had for long. his creations did not so greatly disturb him. he was aware that he was still kept under surveillance, but the watch was not so strict, nor so galling as hitherto. on the monday morning he was at the station, and took his ticket for swanton. one ticket sufficed, as his companions, who awaited him on the platform, were imaginary characters. when he took his seat, they pressed into the carriage after him. poppy secured the seat next him, but the widow placed herself opposite, and exerted all her blandishment with the hope of engrossing his whole attention. at a junction all got out, and joseph provided himself with a luncheon basket and mineral water. the characters watched him discussing the half-chicken and slabs of ham, with the liveliest interest, and were especially observant of his treatment of the thin paper napkin, wherewith he wiped his fingers and mouth. at last he arrived at swanton and engaged a cab, as he was encumbered with a portmanteau. lady mabel, poppy, and the widow could be easily accommodated within, the two latter with their backs to the horses. joseph would willingly have resigned his seat to either of these, but they would not hear of it. a gentle altercation ensued between the parson and the solicitor, as to which should ride on the box. the lawyer desired to yield the place to "the cloth," but the parson would not hear of this—the silver hairs of the other claimed precedence. the stockbroker mounted to the roof of the fly and the clerical gentleman hung on behind. the hero professed his readiness to walk. eventually the cab drew up at mrs. baker's door. that stout, elderly lady received her old lodger without effusion, and with languid interest. the look of the house was not what it had been. it had deteriorated. the windows had not been cleaned nor the banisters dusted. 134 a book of ghosts “my dear old landlady, i am so glad to see you again," said joseph. "thank you, sir. you ordered no meal, but i have got two mutton chops in the larder, and can mash some potatoes. at what time would you like your supper, sir ?” she had become a machine, a thing of routine. “not yet, thank you. i have business to transact first, and i shall not be disengaged before nine o'clock. but i have something to say to you, mrs. baker, and i will say it at once and get it over, if you will kindly step up into my parlour." she did so, sighing at each step of the stairs as she ascended. all the characters mounted as well, and entering the little sitting-room, ranged themselves against the wall facing the door. mrs. baker was a portly woman, aged about forty-five, and plain featured. she had formerly been neat, now she was dowdy. before she had lost her character she never appeared in that room without removing her apron, but on this occasion she wore it, and it was not clean. “widow !” said joseph, addressing his character, “will you kindly step forward ?”. "i would do anything for you," with a roll of the eyes. “dear mrs. baker," said leveridge, “i feel that i have done you a grievous wrong." "well, sir, i ain't been myself since you put me into your book.” “my purpose is now to undo the past, and to provide you with a character.” then, turning to the skittish widow of his creation, he said, “now, then, slip into and occupy her.” “i don't like the tenement," said the widow, pouting. "whether you like it or not," protested joseph, "you must have that or no other.” he waved his hand. “presto!" he exclaimed. nt,” said upy her." ~ creation, be a professional secret 135 instantly a wondrous change was effected in mrs. baker. she whipped off the apron, and crammed it under the sofa cushion. she wriggled in her movements, she eyed herself in the glass, and exclaimed: “oh, my! what a fright i am. i'll be back again in a minute when i have changed my gown and done up my hair.” "we can dispense with your presence, mrs. baker,” said leveridge sternly. “i will ring for you when you are wanted.” at that moment a rap at the door was heard ; and mrs. baker, having first dropped a coquettish curtsy to her lodger, tripped downstairs to admit the vicar, and to show him up to mr. leveridge's apartment. “you may go, mrs. baker,” said he; for she seemed inclined to linger. when she had left the room, joseph contemplated the reverend gentleman. he bore a crestfallen appearance. he looked as if he had been out in the rain all night without a paletot. his cheeks were flabby, his mouth drooped at the corners, his eyes were vacant, and his whiskers no longer stuck out horrescent and assertive. "dear vicar," said leveridge, “ i cannot forgive myself.” in former times, mr. leveridge would not have dreamed of addressing the reverend gentleman in this familiar manner, but it was other now that the latter looked so limp and forlorn. “my dear vicar, i cannot forgive myself for the trouble i have brought upon you. it has weighed on me as a nightmare, for i know that it is not you only who have suffered, but also the whole parish of swanton. happily a remedy is at hand. i have here ” he waved to the parson of his creation, “i have here an individuality i can give to you, and henceforth, if you will not be precisely yourself again, you will be a personality in your parish and the diocese." he waved his hand. “presto!” in the twinkling of an eye all was changed in the vicar of swanton. he straightened himself. his expression 136 a book of ghosts altered to what it never had been before. the cheeks became firm, and lines formed about the mouth indicative of force of character and of self-restraint. the eye assumed an eager look as into far distances, as seeking something beyond the horizon. the vicar walked to the mirror over the mantelshelf. "bless me!” he said, “i must go to the barber's and have these whiskers off.” and he hurried downstairs. after a little pause in the proceedings, mrs. baker, now very trim, with a blue ribbon round her neck hanging down in streamers behind, ushered up mr. stork. the lawyer had a faded appearance, as if he had been exposed to too strong sunlight; he walked in with an air of lack of interest, and sank into a chair. “my dear old master," said leveridge, “it is my purpose to restore to you all your former energy, and to supply you with what you may possibly have lacked previously." he signed to the white-haired family solicitor he had called into fictitious being, and waved his hand. at once mr. stork stood up and shook his legs, as though shaking out crumbs from his trousers. his breast swelled, he threw back his head, his eye shone clear and was steady. "mr. leveridge," said he, “ i have long had my eye on you, sir-had my eye on you. i have marked your character as one of uncompromising probity. i hate shiftiness, i abhor duplicity. i have been disappointed with my clerks. i could not always trust them to do the right thing. i want to strengthen and brace my firm. but i will not take into partnership with myself any but one of the strictest integrity. sir! i have marked you—i have marked you, mr. leveridge. call on me to-morrow morning, and we will consider the preliminaries for a partnership. don't talk to me of buying a partnership.” “i have not done so, sir." “i know you have not. i will take you in, sir, for your a professional secret 137 intrinsic value. an honest man is worth his weight in gold, and is as scarce as the precious metal.” then, with dignity, mr. stork withdrew, and passed mr. box, the grocer, mounting the scairs. "well, mr. box," said leveridge,“ how wags the world with you?" “badly, sir, badly since you booked me. i mentioned to you, sir, that i trusted my little business would for a while go on by its own momentum. it has, sir, it has, but the momentum has been downhill. i can't control it. i have not the personality to do so, to serve as a drag, to urge it upwards. i am in daily expectation, sir, of a regular smash up." “i am sorry to hear this," said leveridge. “but i think i have found a means of putting all to rights. presto!” he waved his hand and the imaginary character of the stockbroker had actualised himself in the body of mr. box. "i see how to do it. by ginger, i do!” exclaimed the grocer, a spark coming into his eye. “i'll run my little concern on quite other lines. and look ye here, mr. leveridge. i bet you my bottom dollar that i'll run it to a tremendous success, become a second lipton, and keep a yacht." as mr. box bounced out of the room and proceeded to run downstairs, he ran against and nearly knocked over mrs. baker; the lady was whispering to and coquetting with mr. wotherspoon, who was on the landing. that gentleman, in his condition of lack of individuality, was like a teetotum spun in the hands of the designing mrs. baker, who put forth all the witchery she possessed, or supposed that she possessed, to entangle him in an amorous intrigue. " come in," shouted joseph leveridge, and mr. wotherspoon, looking hot and frightened and very shy, tottered in and sank into a chair. he was too much shaken and perturbed by the advances of mrs. baker to be able to speak. 138 a book of ghosts “there,” said joseph, addressing his hero. “you cannot do better than animate that feeble creature. go!” instantly mr. wotherspoon sprang to his feet. “by george !” said he. “i wonder that never struck me before. i'll at once volunteer to go out to south africa, and have a shot at those canting, lying, treacherous boers. if i come back with a score of their scalps at my waist, i shall have deserved well of my country. i will volunteer at once. but-i say, leveridge — clear that hulking, fat old landlady out of the way. she blocks the stairs, and i can't kick down a woman." when mr. wotherspoon was gone—“well," said poppy, “ what have you got for me?" "if you will come with me, poppy dear, i will serve you as well as the rest.” “i hope better than you did that odious little widow. but she is well paid out.” “follow me to the riverside,” said joseph ;" at 8.33 p.m. i am due there, and so is another—a lady.” “and pray why did you not make her come here instead of lugging me all the way down there?” “because i could not make an appointment with a young lady in my bachelor's apartments.” “that's all very fine. but i am there." “yes, you—but you are only an imaginary character, and she is a substantial reality." "i think i had better accompany you," said lady mabel. "i think not. if your ladyship will kindly occupy my fauteuil till i return, that chair will ever after be sacred to me. come along, poppy." "i'm game," said she. on reaching the riverside joseph saw that miss vincent was walking there in a listless manner, not straight, but swerving from side to side. she saw him, but did not quicken her pace, nor did her face light up with interest. “now, then," said he to poppy,“what do you think of her?” a professional secret 139 “she ain't bad," answered the fictitious character ; "she is very pretty certainly, but inanimate." “you will change all that.” " i'll try—you bet.” asphodel came up. she bowed, but did not extend her hand. “miss vincent,” said joseph. “how good of you to come." “not at all. i could not help. i have no free-will left. when you wrote come-i came, i could do no other. i have no initiative, no power of resistance." “i do hope, miss vincent, that the thing you so feared has not happened.” “what thing?". “you have not been snapped up by a fortune-hunter?" “no. people have not as yet found out that i have lost my individuality. i have kept very much to myself—that is to say, not to myself, as i have no proper myself left-i mean to the semblance of myself. people have thought i was anæmic." leveridge turned aside: “well, poppy !” “right you are." leveridge waved his hand. instantly all the inertia passed away from the girl, she stood erect and firm. a merry twinkle kindled in her eye, a flush was on her cheek, and mischievous devilry played about her lips. “i feel,” said she, “as another person.” “oh! i am so glad, miss vincent." “that is a pretty speech to make to a lady! glad i am different from what i was before.” “i did not mean that-i meant-in fact, i meant that as you were and as you are you are always charming." “thank you, sir!” said asphodel, curtsying and laughing. “ah! miss vincent, at all times you have seemed to me the ideal of womanhood. i have worshipped the very ground you have trod upon.” 140 a book of ghosts “fiddlesticks.” he looked at her. for the moment he was bewildered, oblivious that the old personality of asphodel had passed into his book and that the new personality of poppy had invaded asphodel. "well,” said she, “is that all you have to say to me?” “all?-oh, no. i could say a great deal-i have ordered my supper for nine o'clock.” “oh, how obtuse you men are! come is this leap year?” “i really believe that it is.” “then i shall take the privilege of the year, and offer you my hand and heart and fortune-there! now it only remains with you to name the day.” "oh! miss vincent, you overcome me.” “stuff and nonsense. call me asphodel, do joe.” mr. leveridge walked back to his lodgings as if he trod on air. as he passed by the churchyard, he noticed the vicar, now shaven and shorn, labouring at a laden wheelbarrow. he halted at the rails and said: “why, vicar, what are you about ?”. “the sexton has begun a grave for old betty goodman, and it is unfinished. he must dig another." he turned over the wheelbarrow and shot its contents into the grave. “but what are you doing?" again asked joseph. “burying the mitre hymnals," replied the vicar. the clock struck a quarter to nine. “i must hurry!” exclaimed joseph. on reaching his lodgings he found major dolgelly jones in his sitting-room, sitting on the edge of his table tossing up a tennis-ball. in the armchair, invisible to the major, reclined lady mabel. “i am so sorry to be late," apologised joseph. "how are you, sir?" “below par. i have been so ever since you put me into a professional secret 141 your book. i have no appetite for golf. i can do nothing to pass the weary hours but toss up and down a tennis-ball." "i hope--" began joseph; and then a horror seized on him. he had no personality of his creation left but that of lady mabel. would it be possible to translate that into the major ? he remained silent, musing for a while, and then said hesitatingly to the lady: “ here, my lady, is the body you are to individualise.” “but it is that of a man!” “there is no other left.” “ it is hardly delicate.” “there is no help for it.” then turning to the major, he said: 'i am very sorry-it really is no fault of mine, but i have only a female personality to offer to you, and that elderly." " it is all one to me," replied the major, “catch”-he caught the ball. “many of our generals are old women. i am agreeable. place aux dames.” “but,” protested lady mabel, “you made me a member of a very ancient titled house that came over with the conqueror." “the personality i offer you," said i to the major, “though female is noble; the family is named in the roll of battle abbey." "oh!” said dolgelly jones, “i descend from one of the royal families of powys, lineally from caswallon llanhir and maelgwn gwynedd, long before the conqueror was thought of.” “well, then," said leveridge, and waved his hand. in swanton it is known that the major now never plays golf; he keeps rabbits. it is with some scruple that i insert this record in the book of ghosts, for actually it is not a story of ghosts. but a greater scruple moved me as to whether. i should be 142 a book of ghosts justified in revealing a professionial secret, known only among such as belong to the confraternity of writers of fiction. but i have observed so much perplexity arise, so much friction caused, by persons suddenly breaking out into a course of conduct, or into actions, so entirely inconsistent with their former conduct as to stagger their acquaintances and friends. henceforth, to use a vulgarism, since i have let the cat out of the bag, they will know that such persons have been used up by novel writers that have known them, and who have replaced the stolen individualities with others freshly created. this is the explanation, and the explanation has up to the present remained a professional secret. h. p. the river vézère leaps to life among the granite of t the limousin, forms a fine cascade, the saut de la virolle, then after a rapid descent over mica-schist, it passes into the region of red sandstone at brive, and swelled with affluents it suddenly penetrates a chalk district, where it has scooped out for itself a valley between precipices some two to three hundred feet high. these precipices are not perpendicular, but overhang, because the upper crust is harder than the stone it caps; and atmospheric influences, rain and frost, have gnawed into the chalk below, so that the cliffs hang forward as penthouse roofs, forming shelters beneath them. and these shelters have been utilised by man from the period when the first occupants of the district arrived at a vastly remote period, almost uninterruptedly to the present day. when peasants live beneath these roofs of nature's providing, they simply wall up the face and ends to form houses of the cheapest description of construction, with the earth as the floor, and one wall and the roof of living rock, into which they burrow to form cupboards, bedplaces, and cellars. the refuse of all ages is superposed, like the leaves of a book, one stratum above another in orderly succession. if we shear down through these beds, we can read the history of the land, so far as its manufacture goes, beginning at the present day and going down, down to the times of primeval man. now, after every meal, the peasant casts down the bones he has picked, he does not stoop to collect 143 144 a book of ghosts and cast forth the sherds of a broken pot, and if a sou falls and rolls away, in the dust of these gloomy habitations it gets trampled into the soil, to form another token of the period of occupation. when the first man settled here the climatic conditions were different. the mammoth or woolly elephant, the hyæna, the cave bear, and the reindeer ranged the land. then naked savages, using only flint tools, crouched under these rocks. they knew nothing of metals and of pottery. they hunted and ate the horse; they had no dogs, no oxen, no sheep. glaciers covered the centre of france, and reached down the vézère valley as far as to brive. these people passed away, whither we know not. the reindeer retreated to the north, the hyæna to africa, which was then united to europe. the mammoth became extinct altogether. after long ages another people, in a higher condition of culture, but who also used flint tools and weapons, appeared on the scene, and took possession of the abandoned rock shelters. they fashioned their implements in a different manner by flaking the flint in place of chipping it. they understood the art of the potter. they grew flax and wove linen. they had domestic animals, and the dog had become the friend of man. and their flint weapons they succeeded in bringing to a high polish by incredible labour and perseverance. then came in the age of bronze, introduced from abroad, probably from the east, as its great depôt was in the basin of the po. next arrived the gauls, armed with weapons of iron. they were subjugated by the romans, and roman gaul in turn became a prey to the goth and the frank. history has begun and is in full swing. the mediæval period succeeded, and finally the modern age, and man now lives on top of the accumulation of all preceding epochs of men and stages of civilisation. in no other part of france, indeed of europe, is the story of h. 145 p. man told so plainly, that he who runs may read; and ever since the middle of last century, when this fact was recognised, the district has been studied, and explorations have been made there, some slovenly, others scientifically. a few years ago i was induced to visit this remarkable region and to examine it attentively. i had been furnished with letters of recommendation from the authorities of the great museum of national antiquities at st. germain, to enable me to prosecute my researches unmolested by oversuspicious gendarmes and ignorant mayors. under one overhanging rock was a cabaret or tavern, announcing that wine was sold there, by a withered bush above the door. the place seemed to me to be a probable spot for my exploration. i entered into an arrangement with the proprietor to enable me to dig, he stipulating that i should not undermine and throw down his walls. i engaged six labourers, and began proceedings by driving a tunnel some little way below the tavern into the vast bed of débris. the upper series of deposits did not concern me much. the point i desired to investigate, and if possible to determine, was the approximate length of time that had elapsed between the disappearance of the reindeer hunters and the coming on the scene of the next race, that which used polished stone implements and had domestic animals. although it may seem at first sight as if both races had been savage, as both lived in the stone age, yet an enormous stride forward had been taken when men had learned the arts of weaving, of pottery, and had tamed the dog, the horse, and the cow. these new folk had passed out of the mere wild condition of the hunter, and had become pastoral and to some extent agricultural. of course, the data for determining the length of a period might be few, but i could judge whether a very long or a very brief period had elapsed between the two occupations by the depth of débris-chalk fallen from the 146 a book of ghosts roof, brought down by frost, in which were no traces of human workmanship. it was with this distinct object in view that i drove my adit into the slope of rubbish some way below the cabaret, and i chanced to have hit on the level of the deposits of the men of bronze. not that we found much bronze-all we secured was a broken pin-but we came on fragments of pottery marked with the chevron and nail and twisted thong ornament peculiar to that people and age. my men were engaged for about a week before we reached the face of the chalk cliff. we found the work not so easy as i had anticipated. masses of rock had become detached from above and had fallen, so that we had either to quarry through them or to circumvent them. the soil was of that curious coffee colour so inseparable from the chalk formation. we found many things brought down from above, a coin commemorative of the storming of the bastille, and some small pieces of the later roman emperors. but all of these were, of course, not in the solid ground below, but near the surface. when we had reached the face of the cliff, instead of sinking a shaft i determined on carrying a gallery down an incline, keeping the rock as a wall on my right, till i reached the bottom of all. the advantage of making an incline was that there was no hauling up of the earth by a bucket let down over a pulley, and it was easier for myself to descend. i had not made my tunnel wide enough, and it was tortuous. when i began to sink, i set two of the men to smash up the masses of fallen chalk rock, so as to widen the tunnel, so that i might use barrows. i gave strict orders that all the material brought up was to be picked over by two of the most intelligent of the men, outside in the blaze of the sun. i was not desirous of sinking too expeditiously; i wished to proceed slowly, cautiously, observing every stage as we went deeper. s. but all some smalhemorat an inng a shadow but nese wpieces are of things 5 h. p. 147 we got below the layer in which were the relics of the bronze age and of the men of polished stone, and then we passed through many feet of earth that rendered nothing, and finally came on the traces of the reindeer period. to understand how that there should be a considerable depth of the débris of the men of the rude stone implements, it must be explained that these men made their hearths on the bare ground, and feasted around their fires, throwing about them the bones they had picked, and the ashes, and broken and disused implements, till the ground was inconveniently encumbered. then they swept all the refuse together over their old hearth, and established another on top. so the process went on from generation to generation. for the scientific results of my exploration i must refer the reader to the journals and memoirs of learned societies. i will not trouble him with them here. on the ninth day after we had come to the face of the cliff, and when we had reached a considerable depth, we uncovered some human bones. i immediately adopted special precautions, so that these should not be disturbed. with the utmost care the soil was removed from over them, and it took us half a day to completely clear a perfect skeleton. it was that of a full-grown man, lying on his back, with the skull supported against the wall of chalk rock. he did not seem to have been buried. had he been so, he would doubtless have been laid on his side in a contracted posture, with the chin resting on the knees. one of the men pointed out to me that a mass of fallen rock lay beyond his feet, and had apparently shut him in, so that he had died through suffocation, buried under the earth that the rock had brought down with it. i at once despatched a man to my hotel to fetch my camera, that i might by flashlight take a photograph of the skeleton as it lay; and another i sent to get from the chemist and grocer as much gum arabic and isinglass 148 a book of ghosts as could be procured. my object was to give to the bones a bath of gum to render them less brittle when removed, restoring to them the gelatine that had been absorbed by the earth and lime in which they lay. thus i was left alone at the bottom of my passage, the four men above being engaged in straightening the adit and sifting the earth. i was quite content to be alone, so that i might at my ease search for traces of personal ornament worn by the man who had thus met his death. the place was somewhat cramped, and there really was not room in it for more than one person to work freely. whilst i was thus engaged, i suddenly heard a shout, followed by a crash, and, to my dismay, an avalanche of rubble shot down the inclined passage of descent. i at once left the skeleton, and hastened to effect my exit, but found that this was impossible. much of the superincumbent earth and stone had fallen, dislodged by the vibrations caused by the picks of the men smashing up the chalk blocks, and the passage was completely choked. i was sealed up in the hollow where i was, and thankful that the earth above me had not fallen as well, and buried me, a man of the present enlightened age, along with the primeval savage of eight thousand years ago. a large amount of matter must have fallen, for i could not hear the voices of the men. i was not seriously alarmed. the workmen would procure assistance and labour indefatigably to release me ; of that i could be certain. but how much earth had fallen? how much of the passage was choked, and how long would they take before i was released ? all that was uncertain. i had a candle, or, rather, a bit of one, and it was not probable that it would last till the passage was cleared. what made me most anxious was the question whether the supply of air in the hollow in which i was enclosed would suffice. prochat i could be cf the passage was eased? all h. 149 p. my enthusiasm for prehistoric research failed me just then. all my interests were concentrated on the present, and i gave up groping about the skeleton for relics. i seated myself on a stone, set the candle in a socket of chalk i had scooped out with my pocket-knife, and awaited events with my eyes on the skeleton. time passed somewhat wearily. i could hear an occasional thud, thud, when the men were using the pick; but they mostly employed the shovel, as i supposed. i set my elbows on my knees and rested my chin in my hands. the air was not cold, nor was the soil damp; it was dry as snuff. the flicker of my light played over the man of bones, and especially illumined the skull. it may have been fancy on my part, it probably was fancy, but it seemed to me as though something sparkled in the eyesockets. drops of water possibly lodged there, or crystals formed within the skull; but the effect was much as of eyes leering and winking at me. i lighted my pipe, and to my disgust found that my supply of matches was running short. in france the manufacture belongs to the state, and one gets but sixty allumettes for a penny. i had not brought my watch with me below ground, fearing lest it might meet with an accident; consequently i was unable to reckon how time passed. i began counting and ticking off the minutes on my fingers, but soon tired of doing this. my candle was getting short; it would not last much longer, and then i should be in the dark. i consoled myself with the thought that with the extinction of the light the consumption of the oxygen in the air would be less rapid. my eyes now rested on the flame of the candle, and i watched the gradual diminution of the composite. it was one of those abominable bougies with holes in them to economise the wax, and which consequently had less than the proper amount of material for feeding and maintaining a flame. at length the light went out, and i was left in 150 a book of ghosts total darkness. i might have used up the rest of my matches, one after another, but to what good ?-they would prolong the period of illumination for but a very little while. a sense of numbness stole over me, but i was not as yet sensible of deficiency of air to breathe. i found that the stone on which i was seated was pointed and hard, but i did not like to shift my position for fear of getting among and disturbing the bones, and i was still desirous of having them photographed in situ before they were moved. i was not alarmed at my situation; i knew that i must be released eventually. but the tedium of sitting there in the dark and on a pointed stone was becoming intolerable. some time must have elapsed before i became, dimly at first, and then distinctly, aware of a bluish phosphorescent emanation from the skeletion. this seemed to rise above it like a faint smoke, which gradually gained consistency, took form, and became distinct; and i saw before me the misty, luminous form of a naked man, with wolfish countenance, prognathous jaws, glaring at me out of eyes deeply sunk under projecting brows. although i thus describe what i saw, yet it gave me no idea of substance; it was vaporous, and yet it was articulate. indeed, i cannot say at this moment whether i actually saw this apparition with my eyes, or whether it was a dream-like vision of the brain. though luminous, it cast no light on the walls of the cave; if i raised my hand it did not obscure any portion of the form presented to me. then i heard : "i will tear you with the nails of my fingers and toes, and rip you with my teeth.” “what have i done to injure and incense you?" i asked. and here i must explain. no word was uttered by either of us; no word could have been uttered by this vaporous form. it had no material lungs, nor throat, nor mouth to form vocal sounds. it had but the semblance h. p. 151 of would be the other. ween us ne of a man. it was a spook, not a human being. but from it proceeded thought-waves, odylic force which smote on the tympanum of my mind or soul, and thereon registered the ideas formed by it. so in like manner i thought my replies, and they were communicated back in the same manner. if vocal words had passed between us neither would have been intelligible to the other. no dictionary was ever compiled, or would be compiled, of the tongue of prehistoric man; moreover, the grammar of the speech of that race would be absolutely incomprehensible to man now. but thoughts can be interchanged without words. when we think we do not think in any language. it is only when we desire to communicate our thoughts to other men that we shape them into words and express them vocally in structural, grammatical sentences. the beasts have never attained to this, yet they can communicate with one another, not by language, but by thought vibrations. i must further remark that when i give what ensued as a conversation, i have to render the thought intercommunication that passed between the homo præhistoricus—the prehistoric man-and me, in english as best i can render it. i knew as we conversed that i was not speaking to him in english, nor in french, nor latin, nor in any tongue whatever. moreover, when i use the words "said” or “spoke," i mean no more than that the impression was formed on my brain-pan or the receptive drum of my soul, was produced by the rhythmic, orderly sequence of thought-waves. when, however, i express the words “screamed” or “shrieked," i signify that those vibrations came sharp and swift; and when i say “laughed,” that they came in a choppy, irregular fashion, conveying the idea, not the sound of laughter. "i will tear you! i will rend you to bits and throw you in pieces about this cave !” shrieked the homo præhistoricus, or primeval man. formed ooduced byhen, how 152 a book of ghosts again i remonstrated, and inquired how i had incensed him. but yelling with rage, he threw himself upon me. in a moment i was enveloped in a luminous haze, strips of phosphorescent vapour laid themselves about me, but i received no injury whatever, only my spiritual nature was subjected to something like a magnetic storm. after a few moments the spook disengaged itself from me, and drew back to where it was before, screaming broken exclamations of meaningless rage, and jabbering savagely. it rapidly cooled down. “why do you wish me ill ?" i asked again. "i cannot hurt you. i am spirit, you are matter, and spirit cannot injure matter; my nails are psychic phenomena. your soul you can lacerate yourself, but i can effect nothing, nothing." “then why have you attacked me? what is the cause of your impotent resentment?" "because you are a son of the twentieth century, and i lived eight thousand years ago. why are you nursed in the lap of luxury? why do you enjoy comforts, a civilisation that we knew nothing of? it is not just. it is cruel on us. we had nothing, nothing, literally nothing, not even lucifer matches !” again he fell to screaming, as might a caged monkey rendered furious by failure to obtain an apple which he could not reach. “ i am very sorry, but it is no fault of mine." "whether it be your fault or not does not matter to me. you have these things—we had not. why, i saw you just now strike a light on the sole of your boot. it was done in a moment. we had only flint and iron-stone, and it took half a day with us to kindle a fire, and then it flayed our knuckles with continuous knocking. no! we had nothing, nothing—no lucifer matches, no commercial travellers, no benedictine, no pottery, no metal, no education, no elections, no chocolat menier." h. p. 153 “how do you know about these products of the present age, here, buried under fifty feet of soil for eight thousand years?" “it is my spirit which speaks with your spirit. my spook does not always remain with my bones. i can go up; rocks and stones and earth heaped over me do not hold me down. i am often above. i am in the tavern overhead. i have seen men drink there. i have seen a bottle of benedictine. i have applied my psychical lips to it, but i could taste, absorb nothing. i have seen commercial travellers there, cajoling the patron into buying things he did not want. they are mysterious, marvellous beings, their powers of persuasion are little short of miraculous. what do you think of doing with me?”. "well, i propose first of all photographing you, then soaking you in gum arabic, and finally transferring you to a museum." he screamed as though with pain, and gasped: “don't! don't do it. it will be torture insufferable." “but why so? you will be under glass, in a polished oak or mahogany box.” "don't! you cannot understand what it will be to me -a spirit more or less attached to my body, to spend ages upon ages in a museum with fibulæ, triskelli, palstaves, celts, torques, scarabs. we cannot travel very far from our bones_our range is limited. and conceive of my feelings for centuries condemned to wander among glass cases containing prehistoric antiquities, and to hear the talk of scientific men alone. now here, it is otherwise. here i can pass up when i like into the tavern, and can see men get drunk, and hear commercial travellers hoodwink the patron, and then when the taverner finds he has been induced to buy what he did not want, i can see him beat his wife and smack his children. there is something human, humorous, in that, but fibulæ, palstaves, torques -bah!” 154 a book of ghosts “you seem to have a lively knowledge of antiquities," i observed. “of course i have. there come archæologists here and eat their sandwiches above me, and talk prehistoric antiquities till i am sick. give me life! give me something interesting !” “but what do you mean when you say that you cannot travel far from your bones?" "i mean that there is a sort of filmy attachment that connects our psychic nature with our mortal remains. it is like a spider and its web. suppose the soul to be the spider and the skeleton to be the web. if you break the thread the spider will never find its way back to its home. so it is with us; there is an attachment, a faint thread of luminous spiritual matter that unites us to our earthly husk. it is liable to accidents. it sometimes gets broken, sometimes dissolved by water. if a blackbeetle crawls across it it suffers a sort of paralysis. i have never been to the other side of the river, i have feared to do so, though very anxious to look at that creature like a large black caterpillar called the train." “this is news to me. do you know of any cases of rupture of connection ?” “yes," he replied. “my old father, after he was dead some years, got his link of attachment broken, and he wandered about disconsolate. he could not find his own body, but he lighted on that of a young female of seventeen, and he got into that. it happened most singularly that her spook, being frolicsome and inconsiderate, had got its bond also broken, and she, that is her spirit, straying about in quest of her body, lighted on that of my venerable parent, and for want of a better took possession of it. it so chanced that after a while they met and became chummy. in the world of spirits there is no marriage, but there grow up spiritual attachments, and these two got rather fond of each other, but never could puzzle it out h. 155 p. which was which and what each was; for a female soul had entered into an old male body, and a male soul had taken up its residence in a female body. neither could riddle out of which sex each was. you see they had no education. but i know that my father's soul became quite sportive in that young woman's skeleton." “did they continue chummy?” “no; they quarrelled as to which was which, and they are not now on speaking terms. i have two great-uncles. theirs is a sad tale. their souls were out wandering one day, and inadvertently they crossed and recrossed each other's tracks so that their spiritual threads of attachment got twisted. they found this out, and that they were getting tangled up. what one of them should have done would have been to have stood still and let the other jump over and dive under his brother's thread till he had cleared himself. but my maternal great-uncles—i think i forgot to say they were related to me through my mother-they were men of peppery tempers and they could not understand this. they had no education. so they jumped one this way and one another, each abusing the other, and made the tangle more complete. that was about six thousand years ago, and they are now so knotted up that i do not suppose they will be clear of one another till time is no more.” he paused and laughed. then i said: “it must have been very hard for you to be without pottery of any sort." "it was,” replied h. p. (this stands for homo præhistoricus, not for house-parlourmaid or hardy perennial), “very hard. we had skins for water and milk---" “oh! you had milk. i supposed you had no cows." “nor had we, but the reindeer were beginning to get docile and be tamed. if we caught young deer we brought them up to be pets for our children. and so it came about that as they grew up we found out that we could 156 a book of ghosts milk them into skins. but that gave it a smack, and whenever we desired a fresh draught there was nothing for it but to lie flat on the ground under a doe reindeer and suck for all we were worth. it was hard. horses were hunted. it did not occur to us that they could be tamed and saddled and mounted. oh! it was not right. it was not fair that you should have everything and we nothingnothing-nothing! why should you have all and we have had naught?” “because i belong to the twentieth century. thirtythree generations go to a thousand years. there are some two hundred and sixty-four or two hundred and seventy generations intervening between you and me. each generation makes some discovery that advances civilisation a stage, the next enters on the discoveries of the preceding generations, and so culture advances stage by stage. man is infinitely progressive, the brute beast is not.” “that is true," he replied. “i invented butter, which was unknown to my ancestors, the unbuttered man.” “indeed!” “it was so,” he said, and i saw a flush of light ripple over the emanation. i suppose it was a glow of self-satisfaction. “it came about thus. one of my wives had nearly let the fire out. i was very angry, and catching up one of the skins of milk, i banged her about the head with it till she fell insensible to the earth. the other wives were very pleased and applauded. when i came to take a drink, for my exertions had heated me, i found that the milk was curdled into butter. at first i did not know what it was, so i made one of my other wives taste it, and as she pronounced it to be good, i ate the rest myself. that was how butter was invented. for four hundred years that was the way it was made, by banging a milk-skin about the head of a woman till she was knocked down insensible. but at last a woman found out that by churning the milk with her hand butter could be made equally well, and then h. p. 157 the former process was discontinued except by some men who clung to ancestral customs.” “but,” said i, “nowadays you would not be suffered to knock your wife about, even with a milk-skin.” “why not?" “because it is barbarous. you would be sent to gaol.” “ but she was my wife.” “nevertheless it would not be tolerated. the law steps in and protects women from ill-usage." “how shameful! not allowed to do what you like with your own wife!” "most assuredly not. then you remarked that this was how you dealt with one of your wives. how many did you possess ?" “off and on, seventeen.” “now, no man is suffered to have more than one." “what--one at a time?" “yes," i replied. “ah, well. then if you had an old and ugly wife, or one who was a scold, you could kill her and get another, young and pretty." “that would not be allowed.” “not even if she were a scold?" “no, you would have to put up with her to the bitter end." “humph!” h. p. remained silent for a while wrapped in thought. presently he said: “there is one thing i do not understand. in the wine-shop overhead the men get very quarrelsome, others drunk, but they never kill one another." “no. if one man killed another he would have his head cut off–here in france-unless extenuating circumstances were found. with us in england he would be hanged by the neck till he was dead.” “then-what is your sport?” “we hunt the fox.” “the fox is bad eating. i never could stomach it. if i did kill a fox i made my wives eat it, and had some 158 a book of ghosts mammoth meat for myself. but hunting is business with us—or was so—not sport." “nevertheless with us it is our great sport.” “business is business and sport is sport,” he said. “now, we hunted as business, and had little fights and killed one another as our sport." “we are not suffered to kill one another." "but take the case,” said he, “that a man has a nosering, or a pretty wife, and you want one or the other. surely you might kill him and possess yourself of what you so ardentilu might kill hinand you want a man has a "by no means. now, to change the topic," i went on, "you are totally destitute of clothing. you do not even wear the traditional garment of fig leaves." “what avail fig leaves ? there is no warmth in them.” "perhaps not-but out of delicacy." “what is that? i don't understand." there was clearly no corresponding sensation in the vibrating tympanum of his psychic nature. “did you never wear clothes ?” i inquired. “certainly, when it was cold we wore skins, skins of the beasts we killed. but in summer what is the use of clothing? besides, we only wore them out of doors. when we entered our homes, made of skins hitched up to the rock overhead, we threw them off. it was hot within, and we perspired freely.” “what, were naked in your homes ! you and your wives ?” “of course we were. why not? it was very warm within with the fire always kept up." “why-good gracious me!” i exclaimed, “that would never be tolerated nowadays. if you attempted to go about the country unclothed, even get out of your clothes freely at home, you would be sent to a lunatic asylum and kept there." "humph!” he again lapsed into silence. h. p. 159 presently he exclaimed : “ after all, i think that we were better off as we were eight thousand years ago, even without your matches, benedictine, education, chocolat menier, and commercials, for then we were able to enjoy real sport—we could kill one another, we could knock old wives on the head, we could have a dozen or more squaws according to our circumstances, young and pretty, and we could career about the country or sit and enjoy a social chat at home, stark naked. we were best off as we were. there are compensations in life at every period of man. vive la liberté !” at that moment i heard a shout-saw a flash of light. the workmen had pierced the barrier. a rush of fresh air entered. i staggered to my feet. “oh! mon dieu! monsieur vit encore !” i felt dizzy. kind hands grasped me. i was dragged forth. brandy was poured down my throat. when i came to myself i gasped : “fill in the hole! fill it all up. let h. p. lie where he is. he shall not go to the british museum. i have had enough of prehistoric antiquities. adieu, pour toujours la vézère." glámr the following story is found in the gretla, an icelandic saga, composed in the thirteenth century, or that comes to us in the form then given to it; but it is a redaction of a saga of much earlier date. most of it is thoroughly historical, and its statements are corroborated by other sagas. the following incident was introduced to account for the fact that the outlaw gretter would run any risk rather than spend the long winter nights alone in the dark. at the beginning of the eleventh century there stood, a a little way up the valley of shadows in the north of iceland, a small farm, occupied by a worthy bonder, named thorhall, and his wife. the farmer was not exactly a chieftain, but he was well enough connected to be considered respectable ; to back up his gentility he possessed numerous flocks of sheep and a goodly drove of oxen. thorhall would have been a happy man but for one circumstance—his sheepwalks were haunted. not a herdsman would remain with him; he bribed, he threatened, entreated, all to no purpose ; one shepherd after another left his service, and things came to such a pass that he determined on asking advice at the next annual council. thorhall saddled his horses, adjusted his packs, provided himself with hobbles, cracked his long icelandic whip, and cantered along the road, and in due time reached thingvellir. skapti thorodd's son was lawgiver at that time, and as everyone considered him a man of the utmost prudence and able to give the best advice, our friend from the vale of shadows made straight for his booth. 160 glámr 161 “an awkward predicament, certainly—to have large droves of sheep and no one to look after them,” said skapti, nibbling the nail of his thumb, and shaking his wise head—a head as stuffed with law as a ptarmigan's crop is stuffed with blaeberries. “now i'll tell you whatas you have asked my advice, i will help you to a shepherd ; a character in his way, a man of dull intellect, to be sure, but strong as a bull.” "i do not care about his wits so long as he can look after sheep," answered thorhall. "you may rely on his being able to do that,” said skapti. “he is a stout, plucky fellow; a swede from sylgsdale, if you know where that is." towards the break-up of the council —“thing” they call it in iceland—two greyish-white horses belonging to thorhall slipped their hobbles and strayed; so the good man had to hunt after them himself, which shows how short of servants he was. he crossed sletha-asi, thence he bent his way to armann's-fell, and just by the priest's wood he met a strange-looking man driving before him a horse laden with faggots. the fellow was tall and stalwart; his face involuntarily attracted thorhall's attention, for the eyes, of an ashen grey, were large and staring, the powerful jaw was furnished with very white protruding teeth, and around the low forehead hung bunches of coarse wolf-grey hair. "pray, what is your name, my man?" asked the farmer, pulling up. “glámr, an please you,” replied the wood-cutter. thorhall stared; then, with a preliminary cough, he asked how glámr liked faggot-picking. “ not much," was the answer ; “ i prefer shepherd life.” “ will you come with me?” asked thorhall; “skapti has handed you over to me, and i want a shepherd this winter uncommonly." “if i serve you, it is on the understanding that i come m 162 a book of ghosts or go as it pleases me. i tell you i am a bit truculent if things do not go just to my thinking.” "i shall not object to this," answered the bonder. “so i may count on your services ?” “wait a moment! you have not told me whether there be any drawback.” “i must acknowledge that there is one,” said thorhall; “ in fact, the sheepwalks have got a bad name for bogies." “pshaw! i'm not the man to be scared at shadows," laughed glámr ; “so here's my hand to it; i'll be with you at the beginning of the winter night.” well, after this they parted, and presently the farmer found his ponies. having thanked skapti for his advice and assistance, he got his horses together and trotted home. summer, and then autumn passed, but not a word about the new shepherd reached the valley of shadows. the winter storms began to bluster up the glen, driving the flying snow-flakes and massing the white drifts at every winding of the vale. ice formed in the shallows of the river; and the streams, which in summer trickled down the ribbed scarps, were now transmuted into icicles. one gusty night a violent blow at the door startled all in the farm. in another moment glámr, tall as a troll, stood in the hall glowering out of his wild eyes, his grey hair matted with frost, his teeth rattling and snapping with cold, his face blood-red in the glare of the fire which smouldered in the centre of the hall. thorhall jumped up and greeted him warmly, but the housewife was too frightened to be very cordial. weeks passed, and the new shepherd was daily on the moors with his flock; his loud and deep-toned voice was often borne down on the blast as he shouted to the sheep driving them into fold. his presence in the house always produced gloom, and if he spoke it sent a thrill through the women, who openly proclaimed their aversion for him. glámr 163 houted for the vigilo apparently ver there was a church near the byre, but glámr never crossed the threshold; he hated psalmody; apparently he was an indifferent christian. on the vigil of the nativity glámr rose early and shouted for meat. “meat!” exclaimed the housewife ; "no man calling himself a christian touches flesh to-day. to-morrow is the holy christmas day, and this is a fast." “ all superstition !” roared glámr. “as far as i can see, men are no better now than they were in the bonny heathen time. bring me meat, and make no more ado about it.” “you may be quite certain,” protested the good wife, “if church rule be not kept, ill-luck will follow." glámr ground his teeth and clenched his hands. “meat! i will have meat, or— " in fear and trembling the poor woman obeyed. the day was raw and windy; masses of grey vapour rolled up from the arctic ocean, and hung in piles about the mountain-tops. now and then a scud of frozen fog, composed of minute particles of ice, swept along the glen, covering bar and beam with feathery hoar-frost. as the day declined, snow began to fall in large flakes like the down of the eider-duck. one moment there was a lull in the wind, and then the deep-toned shout of glámr, high up the moor slopes, was heard distinctly by the congregation assembling for the first vespers of christmas day. darkness came on, deep as that in the rayless abysses of the caverns under the lava, and still the snow fell thicker, the lights from the church windows sent a yellow haze far out into the night, and every fake burned golden as it swept within the ray. the bell in the lych-gate clanged for evensong, and the wind puffed the sound far up the glen; perhaps it reached the herdsman's ear. hark! someone caught a distant sound or shriek, which it was he could not tell, for the wind muttered and mumbled about the church eaves, and then with a fierce whistle scudded 164 a book of ghosts over the graveyard fence. glámr had not returned when the service was over. thorhall suggested a search, but no man would accompany him; and no wonder! it was not a night for a dog to be out in; besides, the tracks were a foot deep in snow. the family sat up all night, waiting, listening, trembling; but no glámr came home. dawn broke at last, wan and blear in the south. the clouds hung down like great sheets, full of snow, almost to bursting. a party was soon formed to search for the missing man. a sharp scramble brought them to high land, and the ridge between the two rivers which join in vatnsdalr was thoroughly examined. here and there were found the scattered sheep, shuddering under an icicled rock, or half buried in a snow-drift. no trace yet of the keeper. a dead ewe lay at the bottom of a crag; it had staggered over in the gloom, and had been dashed to pieces. presently the whole party were called together about a trampled spot in the heath, where evidently a deathstruggle had taken place, for earth and stone were tossed about, and the snow was blotched with large splashes of blood. a gory track led up the mountain, and the farmservants were following it, when a cry, almost of agony, from one of the lads, made them turn. in looking behind a rock, the boy had come upon the corpse of the shepherd; it was livid and swollen to the size of a bullock. it lay on its back with the arms extended. the snow had been scrabbled up by the puffed hands in the death-agony, and the staring glassy eyes gazed out of the ashen-grey, upturned face into the vaporous canopy overhead. from the purple lips lolled the tongue, which in the last throes had been bitten through by the white fangs, and a discoloured stream which had flowed from it was now an icicle. with trouble the dead man was raised on a litter, and carried to a gill-edge, but beyond this he could not be borne; his weight waxed more and more, the bearers toiled beneath their burden, their foreheads became beaded glámr 165 with sweat; though strong men they were crushed to the ground. consequently, the corpse was left at the ravinehead, and the men returned to the farm. next day their efforts to lift glámr's bloated carcass, and remove it to consecrated ground, were unavailing. on the third day a priest accompanied them, but the body was nowhere to be found. another expedition without the priest was made, and on this occasion the corpse was discovered; so a cairn was raised over the spot. two nights after this one of the thralls who had gone after the cows burst into the hall with a face blank and scared; he staggered to a seat and fainted. on recovering his senses, in a broken voice he assured all who crowded about him that he had seen glámr walking past him as he left the door of the stable. on the following evening a houseboy was found in a fit under the farmyard wall, and he remained an idiot to his dying day. some of the women next saw a face which, though blown out and discoloured, they recognised as that of glámr, looking in upon them through a window of the dairy. in the twilight, thorhall himself met the dead man, who stood and glowered at him, but made no attempt to injure his master. the haunting did not end there. nightly a heavy tread was heard around the house, and a hand feeling along the walls, sometimes thrust in at the windows, at others clutching the woodwork, and breaking it to splinters. however, when the spring came round the disturbances lessened, and as the sun obtained full power, ceased altogether. that summer a vessel from norway dropped anchor in the nearest bay. thorhall visited it, and found on board a man named thorgaut, who was in search of work. “what do you say to being my shepherd ?” asked the bonder. “i should very much like the office," answered thorgaut. “ i am as strong as two ordinary men, and a handy fellow to boot.” 166 a book of ghosts "i will not engage you without forewarning you of the terrible things you may have to encounter during the winter night.” "pray, what may they be?” “ghosts and hobgoblins," answered the farmer; "a fine dance they lead me, i can promise you." "i fear them not," answered thorgaut; “i shall be with you at cattle-slaughtering time.” at the appointed season the man came, and soon established himself as a favourite in the house ; he romped with the children, chucked the maidens under the chin, helped his fellow-servants, gratified the housewife by admiring her curd, and was just as much liked as his predecessor had been detested. he was a devil-may-care fellow, too, and made no bones of his contempt for the ghost, expressing hopes of meeting him face to face, which made his master look grave, and his mistress shudderingly cross herself. as the winter came on, strange sights and sounds began to alarm the folk, but these never frightened thorgaut; he slept too soundly at night to hear the tread of feet about the door, and was too short-sighted to catch glimpses of a grizzly monster striding up and down, in the twilight, before its cairn. at last christmas eve came round, and thorgaut went out as usual with his sheep. "have a care, man,” urged the bonder ; "go not near to the gill-head, where glámr lies." “tut, tut! fear not for me. i shall be back by vespers.” “god grant it,” sighed the housewife ; “but 'tis not a day for risks, to be sure.” twilight came on: a feeble light hung over the south, one white streak above the heath land to the south. far off in southern lands it was still day, but here the darkness gathered in apace, and men came from vatnsdalr for evensong, to herald in the night when christ was born. christmas eve! how different in saxon england! there the glámr 167 great ashen faggot is rolled along the hall with torch and taper; the mummers dance with their merry jingling bells; the boar's head, with gilded tusks,“ bedecked with holly and rosemary," is brought in by the steward to a flourish of trumpets. how different, too, where the varanger cluster round the imperial throne in the mighty church of the eternal wisdom at this very hour. outside, the air is soft from breathing over the bosphorus, which flashes tremulously beneath the stars. the orange and laurel leaves in the palace gardens are still exhaling fragrance in the hush of the christmas night. but it is different here. the wind is piercing as a twoedged sword; blocks of ice crash and grind along the coast, and the lake waters are congealed to stone. aloft, the aurora flames crimson, alinging long streamers to the zenith, and then suddenly dissolving into a sea of pale green light. the natives are waiting round the churchdoor, but no thorgaut has returned. they find him next morning, lying across glámr's cairn, with his spine, his leg, and arm-bones shattered. he is conveyed to the churchyard, and a cross is set up at his head. he sleeps peacefully. not so glámr; he becomes more furious than ever. no one will remain with thorhall now, except an old cowherd who has always served the family, and who had long ago dandled his present master on his knee. "all the cattle will be lost if i leave," said the carle; “it shall never be told of me that i deserted thorhall from fear of a spectre." matters grew rapidly worse. qutbuildings were broken into of a night, and their woodwork was rent and shattered; the house door was violently shaken, and great pieces of it were torn away ; the gables of the house were also pulled furiously to and fro. one morning before dawn, the old man went to the 168 a book of ghosts stable. an hour later, his mistress arose, and taking her milking pails, followed him. as she reached the door of the stable, a terrible sound from within—the bellowing of the cattle, mingled with the deep notes of an unearthly voice—sent her back shrieking to the house. thorhall leaped out of bed, caught up a weapon, and hastened to the cow-house. on opening the door, he found the cattle goring each other. slung across the stone that separated the stalls was something. thorhall stepped up to it, felt it, looked close ; it was the cowherd, perfectly dead, his feet on one side of the slab, his head on the other, and his spine snapped in twain. the bonder now moved with his family to tunga, another farm owned by him lower down the valley; it was too venturesome living during the midwinter night at the haunted farm; and it was not till the sun had returned as a bridegroom out of his chamber, and had dispelled night with its phantoms, that he went back to the vale of shadows. in the meantime, his little girl's health had given way under the repeated alarms of the winter; she became paler every day; with the autumn flowers she faded, and was laid beneath the mould of the churchyard in time for the first snows to spread a virgin pall over her small grave. at this time grettir-a hero of great fame, and a native of the north of the island_was in iceland, and as the hauntings of this vale were matters of gossip throughout the district, he inquired about them, and resolved on visiting the scene. so grettir busked himself for a cold ride, mounted his horse, and in due course of time drew rein at the door of thorhall's farm with the request that he might be accommodated there for the night. “ahem !" coughed the bonder ; "perhaps you are not aware"i am perfectly aware of all. i want to catch sight of the troll." “but your horse is sure to be killed." glámr 169 “i will risk it. glámr i must meet, so there's an end of it." “i am delighted to see you," spoke the bonder ; "at the same time, should mischief befall you, don't lay the blame at my door." “never fear, man." so they shook hands; the horse was put into the strongest stable, thorhall made grettir as good cheer as he was able, and then, as the visitor was sleepy, all retired to rest. the night passed quietly, and no sounds indicated the presence of a restless spirit. the horse, moreover, was found next morning in good condition, enjoying his hay. “this is unexpected !” exclaimed the bonder, gleefully. “now, where's the saddle? we'll clap it on, and then goodbye, and a merry journey to you." “good-bye !" echoed grettir ; “i am going to stay here another night.” “you had best be advised," urged thorhall; “if misfortune should overtake you, i know that all your kinsmen would visit it on my head.” "i have made up my mind to stay," said grettir, and he looked so dogged that thorhall opposed him no more. all was quiet next night; not a sound roused grettir from his slumber. next morning he went with the farmer to the stable. the strong wooden door was shivered and driven in. they stepped across it; grettir called to his horse, but there was no responsive whinny. "i am afraid " began thorhall. grettir leaped in, and found the poor brute dead, and with its neck broken. “now," said thorhall quickly, “i've got a capital horse-a skewbald-down by tunga, i shall not be many hours in fetching it; your saddle is here, i think, and then you will just have time to reach " “i stay here another night,” interrupted grettir. “i implore you to depart," said thorhall. “my horse is slain!" 170 a book of ghosts “but i will provide you with another.” “friend," answered grettir, turning so sharply round that the farmer jumped back, half frightened, “no man ever did me an injury without rueing it. now, your demon herdsman has been the death of my horse. he must be taught a lesson.” “would that he were !” groaned thorhall ; “but mortal must not face him. go in peace and receive compensation from me for what has happened.” “i must revenge my horse." “an obstinate man will have his own way! but if you run your head against a stone wall, don't be angry because you get a broken pate." night came on; grettir ate a hearty supper and was right jovial; not so thorhall, who had his misgivings. at bedtime the latter crept into his crib, which, in the manner of old icelandic beds, opened out of the hall, as berths do out of a cabin. grettir, however, determined on remaining up; so he flung himself on a bench with his feet against the posts of the high seat, and his back against thorhall's crib; then he wrapped one lappet of his fur coat round his feet, the other about his head, keeping the neck-opening in front of his face, so that he could look through into the hall. there was a fire burning on the hearth, a smouldering heap of red embers ; every now and then a twig flared up and crackled, giving grettir glimpses of the rafters, as he lay with his eyes wandering among the mysteries of the smoke-blackened roof. the wind whistled softly overhead. the clerestory windows, covered with the amnion of sheep, admitted now and then a sickly yellow glare from the full moon, which, however, shot a beam of pure silver through the smoke-hole in the roof. a dog without began to howl; the cat, which had long been sitting demurely watching the fire, stood up with raised back and. bristling tail, then darted behind some chests in a corner. the hall door was in a sad plight. it had been so riven glámr 171 by the spectre that it was made firm by wattles only, and the moon glinted athwart the crevices. soothingly the river, not yet frozen over, prattled over its shingly bed as it swept round the knoll on which stood the farm. grettir heard the breathing of the sleeping women in the adjoining chamber, and the sigh of the housewife as she turned in her bed. click! click !-it is only the frozen turf on the roof cracking with the cold. the wind lulls completely. the night is very still without. hark! a heavy tread, beneath which the snow yields. every footfall goes straight to grettir's heart. a crash on the turf overhead! by all the saints in paradise! the monster is treading on the roof. for one moment the chimney-gap is completely darkened : glámr is looking down it; the flash of the red ash is reflected in the two lustreless eyes. then the moon glances sweetly in once more, and the heavy tramp of glámr is audibly moving towards the farther end of the hall. a thud-he has leaped down. grettir feels the board at his back quivering, for thorhall is awake and is trembling in his bed. the steps pass round to the back of the house, and then the snapping of the wood shows that the creature is destroying some of the outhouse doors. he tires of this apparently, for his footfall comes clear towards the main entrance to the hall. the moon is veiled behind a watery cloud, and by the uncertain glimmer grettir fancies that he sees two dark hands thrust in above the door. his apprehensions are verified, for, with a loud snap, a long strip of panel breaks, and light is admitted. snap-snap! another portion gives way, and the gap becomes larger. then the wattles slip from their places, and a dark arm rips them out in bunches, and flings them away. there is a cross-beam to the door, holding a bolt which slides into a stone groove. against the grey light, grettir sees a huge black figure heaving itself over the bar. crack! that has given way, and the rest of the door falls in shivers to the earth. 172 a book of ghosts "oh, heavens above !” exclaims the bonder. stealthily the dead man creeps on, feeling at the beams as he comes; then he stands in the hall, with the firelight on him. a fearful sight; the tall figure distended with the corruption of the grave, the nose fallen off, the wandering, vacant eyes, with the glaze of death on them, the sallow flesh patched with green masses of decay; the wolf-grey hair and beard have grown in the tomb, and hang matted about the shoulders and breast; the nails, too, they have grown. it is a sickening sight-a thing to shudder at, not to see. motionless, with no nerve quivering now, thorhall and grettir held their breath. glámr's lifeless glance strayed round the chamber; it rested on the shaggy bundle by the high seat. cautiously he stepped towards it. grettir felt him groping about the lower lappet and pulling at it. the cloak did not give way. another jerk; grettir kept his feet firmly pressed against the posts, so that the rug was not pulled off. the vampire seemed puzzled, he plucked at the upper flap and tugged. grettir held to the bench and bed-board, so that he was not moved, but the cloak was rent in twain, and the corpse staggered back, holding half in its hands, and gazing wonderingly at it. before it had done examining the shred, grettir started to his feet, bowed his body, flung his arms about the carcass, and, driving his head into the chest, strove to bend it backward and snap the spine. a vain attempt! the cold hands came down on grettir's arms with diabolical force, riving them from their hold. grettir clasped them about the body again ; then the arms closed round him, and began dragging him along. the brave man clung by his feet to benches and posts, but the strength of the vampire was the greater; posts gave way, benches were heaved from their places, and the wrestlers at each moment neared the door. sharply writhing loose, grettir flung his hands round a roof-beam. he was dragged from his feet; the numbing arms clenched glámr 173 him round the waist, and tore at him ; every tendon in his breast was strained ; the strain under his shoulders became excruciating, the muscles stood out in knots. still he held on; his fingers were bloodless; the pulses of his temples throbbed in jerks; the breath came in a whistle through his rigid nostrils. all the while, too, the long nails of the dead man cut into his side, and grettir could feel them piercing like knives between his ribs. then at once his hands gave way, and the monster bore him reeling towards the porch, crashing over the broken fragments of the door. hard as the battle had gone with him indoors, grettir knew that it would go worse outside, so he gathered up all his remaining strength for one final desperate struggle. the door had been shut with a swivel into a groove; this groove was in a stone, which formed the jamb on one side, and there was a similar block on the other, into which the hinges had been driven. as the wrestlers neared the opening, grettir planted both his feet against the stone posts, holding glámr by the middle. he had the advantage now. the dead man writhed in his arms, drove his talons into grettir's back, and tore up great ribbons of flesh, but the stone jambs held firm. “now," thought grettir, “i can break his back," and thrusting his head under the chin, so that the grizzly beard covered his eyes, he forced the face from him, and the back was bent as a hazel-rod.. "if i can but hold on," thought grettir, and he tried to shout for thorhall, but his voice was muffied in the hair of the corpse. suddenly one or both of the door-posts gave way. down crashed the gable trees, ripping beams and rafters from their beds; frozen clods of earth rattled from the roof and thumped into the snow. glámr fell on his back, and grettir staggered down on top of him. the moon was at her full; large white clouds chased each other across the sky, and as they swept before her disk she 174 a book of ghosts looked through them with a brown halo round her. the snow-cap of jorundarfell, however, glowed like a planet, then the white mountain ridge was kindled, the light ran down the hillside, the bright disk stared out of the veil and flashed at this moment full on the vampire's face. grettir's strength was failing him, his hands quivered in the snow, and he knew that he could not support himself from dropping flat on the dead man's face, eye to eye, lip to lip. the eyes of the corpse were fixed on him, lit with the cold glare of the moon. his head swam as his heart sent a hot stream to his brain. then a voice from the grey lips said, “thou hast acted madly in seeking to match thyself with me. now learn that henceforth ill-luck shall constantly attend thee; that thy strength shall never exceed what it now is, and that by night these eyes of mine shall stare at thee through the darkness till thy dying day, so that for very horror thou shalt not endure to be alone." grettir at this moment noticed that his dirk had slipped from its sheath during the fall, and that it now lay conveniently near his hand. the giddiness which had oppressed him passed away, he clutched at the sword-haft, and with a blow severed the vampire's throat. then, kneeling on the breast, he hacked till the head came off. thorhall appeared now, his face blanched with terror, but when he saw how the fray had terminated he assisted grettir gleefully to roll the corpse on the top of a pile of faggots, which had been collected for winter fuel. fire was applied, and soon far down the valley the flames of the pyre startled people, and made them wonder what new horror was being enacted in the upper portion of the vale of shadows. next day the charred bones were conveyed to a spot remote from the habitations of men, and were there buried. what glámr had predicted came to pass. never after did grettir dare to be alone in the dark. colonel halifax's ghost story i had just come back to england, after having been i some years in india, and was looking forward to meet my friends, among whom there was none i was more anxious to see than sir francis lynton. we had been at eton together, and for the short time i had been at oxford before entering the army we had been at the same college. then we had been parted. he came into the title and estates of the family in yorkshire on the death of his grandfather-his father had predeceased—and i had been over a good part of the world. one visit, indeed, i had made him in his yorkshire home, before leaving for india, of but a few days. it will easily be imagined how pleasant it was, two or three days after my arrival in london, to receive a letter from lynton saying he had just seen in the papers that i had arrived, and begging me to come down at once to byfield, his place in yorkshire. “ you are not to tell me," he said, “that you cannot come. i allow you a week in which to order and try on your clothes, to report yourself at the war office, to pay your respects to the duke, and to see your sister at hampton court; but after that i shall expect you. in fact, you are to come on monday. i have a couple of horses which will just suit you; the carriage shall meet you at packham, and all you have got to do is to put yourself in the train which leaves king's cross at twelve o'clock.” 175 176 a book of ghosts accordingly, on the day appointed i started; in due time reached packham, losing much time on a detestable branch line, and there found the dogcart of sir francis awaiting me. i drove at once to byfield. the house i remembered. it was a low, gabled structure of no great size, with old-fashioned lattice windows, separated from the park, where were deer, by a charming terraced garden. no sooner did the wheels crunch the gravel by the principal entrance, than, almost before the bell was rung, the porch door opened, and there stood lynton himself, whom i had not seen for so many years, hardly altered, and with all the joy of welcome beaming in his face. taking me by both hands, he drew me into the house, got rid of my hat and wraps, looked me all over, and then, in a breath, began to say how glad he was to see me, what a real delight it was to have got me at last under his roof, and what a good time we would have together, like the old days over again. he had sent my luggage up to my room, which was ready for me, and he bade me make haste and dress for dinner. so saying, he took me through a panelled hall up an oak staircase, and showed me my room, which, hurried as i was, i observed was hung with tapestry, and had a large fourpost bed, with velvet curtains, opposite the window. they had gone into dinner when i came down, despite all the haste i made in dressing; but a place had been kept for me next lady lynton. besides my hosts, there were their two daughters, colonel lynton, a brother of sir francis, the chaplain, and some others whom i do not remember distinctly. after dinner there was some music in the hall, and a game of whist in the drawing-room, and after the ladies had gone upstairs, lynton and i retired to the smokingroom, where we sat up talking the best part of the night. colonel halifax's story 177 i think it must have been near three when i retired. once in bed, i slept so soundly that my servant's entrance the next morning failed to arouse me, and it was past nine when i awoke. after breakfast and the disposal of the newspapers, lynton retired to his letters, and i asked lady lynton if one of her daughters might show me the house. elizabeth, the eldest, was summoned, and seemed in no way to dislike the task. the house was, as already intimated, by no means large; it occupied three sides of a square, the entrance and one end of the stables making the fourth side. the interior was full of interest-passages, rooms, galleries, as well as hall, were panelled in dark wood and hung with pictures. i was shown everything on the ground floor, and then on the first floor. then my guide proposed that we should ascend a narrow twisting staircase that led to a gallery. we did as proposed, and entered a handsome long room or passage, leading to a small chamber at one end, in which my guide told me her father kept books and papers. i asked if anyone slept in this gallery, as i noticed a bed, and fireplace, and rods, by means of which curtains might be drawn, enclosing one portion where were bed and fireplace, so as to convert it into a very cosy chamber. she answered "no," the place was not really used except as a playroom, though sometimes, if the house happened to be very full, in her great-grandfather's time, she had heard that it had been occupied. by the time we had been over the house, and i had also been shown the garden and the stables, and introduced to the dogs, it was nearly one o'clock. we were to have an early luncheon, and to drive afterwards to see the ruins of one of the grand old yorkshire abbeys. this was a pleasant expedition, and we got back just in time for tea, after which there was some reading aloud. the evening passed much in the same way as the precedheard they found thoug" the 178 a book of ghosts ing one, except that lynton, who had some business, did not go down to the smoking-room, and i took the opportunity of retiring early in order to write a letter for the indian mail, something having been said as to the prospect of hunting the next day. i had finished my letter, which was a long one, together with two or three others, and had just got into bed when i heard a step overhead as of someone walking along the gallery, which i now knew ran immediately above my room. it was a slow, heavy, measured tread which i could hear getting gradually louder and nearer, and then as gradually fading away as it retreated into the distance. i was startled for a moment, having been informed that the gallery was unused; but the next instant it occurred to me that i had been told it communicated with a chamber where sir francis kept books and papers. i knew he had some writing to do, and i thought no more on the matter. i was down the next morning at breakfast in good time. "how late you were last night!” i said to lynton, in the middle of breakfast. “i heard you overhead after one o'clock.” lynton replied rather shortly, “indeed you did not, for i was in bed last night before twelve." “ there was someone certainly moving overhead last night," i answered, “for i heard his steps as distinctly as i ever heard anything in my life, going down the gallery," upon which colonel lynton remarked that he had often fancied he had heard steps on his staircase, when he knew that no one was about. he was apparently disposed to say more, when his brother interrupted him somewhat curtly, as i fancied, and asked me if i should feel inclined after breakfast to have a horse and go out and look for the hounds. they met a considerable way off, but if they did not find in the coverts they should first draw, a thing not improbable, they would come our way, and we might fall in with them about one o'clock and have a run. i said there colonel halifax's story 179 was nothing i should like better. lynton mounted me on a very nice chestnut, and the rest of the party having gone out shooting, and the young ladies being otherwise engaged, he and i started about eleven o'clock for our ride. the day was beautiful, soft, with a bright sun, one of those delightful days which so frequently occur in the early part of november. on reaching the hilltop where lynton had expected to meet the hounds no trace of them was to be discovered. they must have found at once, and run in a different direction. at three o'clock, after we had eaten our sandwiches, lynton reluctantly abandoned all hopes of falling in with the hounds, and said we would return home by a slightly different route. we had not descended the hill before we came on an old chalk quarry and the remains of a disused kiln. i recollected the spot at once. i had been here with sir francis on my former visit, many years ago. “whybless me!” said i. “do you remember, lynton, what happened here when i was with you before? there had been men engaged removing chalk, and they came on a skeleton under some depth of rubble. we went together to see it removed, and you said you would have it preserved till it could be examined by some ethnologist or anthropologist, one or other of those dry-as-dusts, to decide whether the remains are dolichocephalous or brachycephalous, whether british, danish, or-modern. what was the result?" sir francis hesitated for a moment, and then answered : “ it is true, i had the remains removed.” “was there an inquest ? ” “no. i had been opening some of the tumuli on the wolds. i had sent a crouched skeleton and some skulls to the scarborough museum. this i was doubtful about, whether it was a prehistoric interment-in fact, to what date it belonged. no one thought of an inquest.” 180 a book of ghosts on reaching the house, one of the grooms who took the horses, in answer to a question from lynton, said that colonel and mrs. hampshire had arrived about an hour ago, and that, one of the horses being lame, the carriage in which they had driven over from castle frampton was to put up for the night. in the drawing-room we found lady lynton pouring out tea for her husband's youngest sister and her husband, who, as we came in, exclaimed: “we have come to beg a night's lodging." it appeared that they had been on a visit in the neighbourhood, and had been obliged to leave at a moment's notice in consequence of a sudden death in the house where they were staying, and that, in the impossibility of getting a fly, their hosts had sent them over to byfield. “we thought,” mrs. hampshire went on to say, “that as we were coming here the end of next week, you would not mind having us a little sooner; or that, if the house were quite full, you would be willing to put us up anywhere till monday, and let us come back later." lady lynton interposed with the remark that it was all settled ; and then, turning to her husband, added : “ but want to speak to you for a moment." they both left the room together. lynton came back almost immediately, and, making an excuse to show me on a map in the hall the point to which we had ridden, said as soon as we were alone, with a look of considerable annoyance : “i am afraid we must ask you to change your room. shall you mind very much? i think we can make you quite comfortable upstairs in the gallery, which is the only room available. lady lynton has had a good fire lit; the place is really not cold, and it will be for only a night or two. your servant has been told to put your things together, but lady lynton did not like to give orders to have them actually moved before my speaking to you." i assured him that i did not mind in the very least, colonel halifax's story 181 that i should be quite as comfortable upstairs, but that i did mind very much their making such a fuss about a matter of that sort with an old friend like myself. certainly nothing could look more comfortable than my new lodging when i went upstairs to dress. there was a bright fire in the large grate, an armchair had been drawn up beside it, and all my books and writing things had been put in, with a reading-lamp in the central position, and the heavy tapestry curtains were drawn, converting this part of the gallery into a room to itself. indeed, i felt somewhat inclined to congratulate myself on the change. the spiral staircase had been one reason against this place having been given to the hampshires. no lady's long dress trunk could have mounted it. sir francis was necessarily a good deal occupied in the evening with his sister and her husband, whom he had not seen for some time. colonel hampshire had also just heard that he was likely to be ordered to egypt, and when lynton and he retired to the smoking-room, instead of going there i went upstairs to my own room to finish a book in which i was interested. i did not, however, sit up long, and very soon went to bed. before doing so, i drew back the curtains on the rod, partly because i like plenty of air where i sleep, and partly also because i thought i might like to see the play of the moonlight on the floor in the portion of the gallery beyond where i lay, and where the blinds had not been drawn. i must have been asleep for some time, for the fire, which i had left in full blaze, was gone to a few sparks wandering among the ashes, when i suddenly awoke with the impression of having heard a latch click at the further extremity of the gallery, where was the chamber containing books and papers. i had always been a light sleeper, but on the present occasion i woke at once to complete and acute consciousness, and with a sense of stretched attention which seemed 182 a book of ghosts to intensify all my faculties. the wind had risen, and was blowing in fitful gusts round the house. a minute or two passed, and i began almost to fancy i must have been mistaken, when i distinctly heard the creak of the door, and then the click of the latch falling back into its place. then i heard a sound on the boards as of one moving in the gallery. i sat up to listen, and as i did so i distinctly heard steps coming down the gallery. i heard them approach and pass my bed. i could see nothing, all was dark; but i heard the tread proceeding towards the further portion of the gallery where were the uncurtained and unshuttered windows, two in number ; but the moon shone through only one of these, the nearer ; the other was dark, shadowed by the chapel or some other building at right angles. the tread seemed to me to pause now and again, and then continue as before. i now fixed my eyes intently on the one illumined window, and it appeared to me as if some dark body passed across it: but what? i listened intently, and heard the step proceed to the end of the gallery and then return. i again watched the lighted window, and immediately that the sound reached that portion of the long passage it ceased momentarily, and i saw, as distinctly as i ever saw anything in my life, by moonlight, a figure of a man with marked features, in what appeared to be a fur cap drawn over the brows. it stood in the embrasure of the window, and the outline of the face was in silhouette ; then it moved on, and as it moved i again heard the tread. i was as certain as i could be that the thing, whatever it was, or the person, whoever he was, was approaching my bed. i threw myself back in the bed, and as i did so a mass of charred wood on the hearth fell down and sent up a flash of—i fancy sparks, that gave out a glare in the darkness, and by that-red as blood-i saw a face near me. with a cry, over which i had as little control as the e thing, oaching, and colonel halifax's story 183 scream uttered by a sleeper in the agony of a nightmare, i called : “who are you?” there was an instant during which my hair bristled on my head, as in the horror of the darkness i prepared to grapple with the being at my side; when a board creaked as if someone had moved, and i heard the footsteps retreat, and again the click of the latch. the next instant there was a rush on the stairs and lynton burst into the room, just as he had sprung out of bed, crying : "for god's sake, what is the matter? are you ill?" i could not answer. lynton struck a light and leant over the bed. then i seized him by the arm, and said without moving : “there has been something in this room ~gone in thither." the words were hardly out of my mouth when lynton, following the direction of my eyes, had sprung to the end of the corridor and thrown open the door there. he went into the room beyond, looked round it, returned, and said : “you must have been dreaming." by this time i was out of bed. "look for yourself,” said he, and he led me into the little room. it was bare, with cupboards and boxes, a sort of lumber-place. “there is nothing beyond this," said he, “no door, no staircase. it is a cul-de-sac." then he added: “now pull on your dressing-gown and come downstairs to my sanctum.” i followed him, and after he had spoken to lady lynton, who was standing with the door of her room ajar in a state of great agitation, he turned to me and said: "no one can have been in your room. you see my and my wife's apartments are close below, and no one could come up the spiral staircase without passing my door. you must have had a nightmare. directly you screamed i rushed up the steps, and met no one descending; and there is no place of concealment in the lumber-room at the end of the gallery.” 184 a book of ghosts i then then he took me into his private snuggery, blew up the fire, lighted a lamp, and said: “i shall be really grateful if you will say nothing about this. there are some in the house and neighbourhood who are silly enough as it is. you stay here, and if you do not feel inclined to go to bed, read here are books. i must go to lady lynton, who is a good deal frightened, and does not like to be left alone.” he then went to his bedroom. sleep, as far as i was concerned, was out of the question, nor do i think that sir francis or his wife slept much either. i made up the fire, and after a time took up a book, and tried to read, but it was useless. i sat absorbed in thoughts and questionings till i heard the servants stirring in the morning. i then went to my own room, left the candle burning, and got into bed. i had just fallen asleep when my servant brought me a cup of tea at eight o'clock. at breakfast colonel hampshire and his wife asked if anything had happened in the night, as they had been much disturbed by noises overhead, to which lynton replied that i had not been very well, and had an attack of cramp, and that he had been upstairs to look after me. from his manner i could see that he wished me to be silent, and i said nothing accordingly. in the afternoon, when everyone had gone out, sir francis took me into his snuggery and said: “halifax, i am very sorry about that matter last night. it is quite true, as my brother said, that steps have been heard about this house, but i never gave heed to such things, putting all noises down to rats. but after your experiences i feel that it is due to you to tell you something, and also to make to you an explanation. there is—there was—no one in the room at the end of the corridor, except the skeleton that was discovered in the chalk-pit when you were here many years ago. i confess i had not paid much at eight sleep when e burning, and colonel halifax's story 185 heed to it. my archæological fancies passed; i had no visits from anthropologists; the bones and skull were never shown to experts, but remained packed in a chest in that lumber-room. i confess i ought to have buried them, having no more scientific use for them, but i did not-on my word, i forgot all about them, or, at least, gave no heed to them. however, what you have gone through, and have described to me, has made me uneasy, and has also given me a suspicion that i can account for that body in a manner that had never occurred to me before." after a pause, he added : “what i am going to tell you is known to no one else, and must not be mentioned by you—anyhow, in my lifetime, you know now that, owing to the death of my father when quite young, i and my brother and sister were brought up here with our grandfather, sir richard. he was an old, imperious, shorttempered man. i will tell you what i have made out of a matter that was a mystery for long, and i will tell you afterwards how i came to unravel it. my grandfather was in the habit of going out at night with a young underkeeper, of whom he was very fond, to look after the game and see if any poachers, whom he regarded as his natural enemies, were about. “one night, as i suppose, my grandfather had been out with the young man in question, and, returning by the plantations, where the hill is steepest, and not far from that chalk-pit you remarked on yesterday, they came upon a man, who, though not actually belonging to the country, was well known in it as a sort of travelling tinker of indifferent character, and a notorious poacher. mind this, i am not sure it was at the place i mention ; i only now surmise it. on the particular night in question, my grandfather and the keeper must have caught this man setting snares; there must have been a tussle, in the course of which, as subsequent circumstances have led me 186 a book of ghosts to imagine, the man showed fight and was knocked down by one or other of the two—my grandfather or the keeper. i believe that after having made various attempts to restore him, they found that the man was actually dead. "they were both in great alarm and concern-my grandfather especially. he had been prominent in putting down some factory riots, and had acted as magistrate with promptitude, and had given orders to the military to fire, whereby a couple of lives had been lost. there was a vast outcry against him, and a certain political party had denounced him as an assassin. no man was more vituperated ; yet, in my conscience, i believe that he acted with both discretion and pluck, and arrested a mischievous movement that might have led to much bloodshed. be that as it may, my impression is that he lost his head over this fatal affair with the tinker, and that he and the keeper together buried the body secretly, not far from the place where he was killed. i now think it was in the chalk-pit, and that the skeleton found years after there belonged to this man." “good heavens !” i exclaimed, as at once my mind rushed back to the figure with the fur cap that i had seen against the window. sir francis went on : “the sudden disappearance of the tramp, in view of his well-known habits and wandering mode of life, did not for some time excite surprise ; but, later on, one or two circumstances having led to suspicion, an inquiry was set on foot, and among others, my grandfather's keepers were examined before the magistrates. it was remembered afterwards that the under-keeper in question was absent at the time of the inquiry, my grandfather having sent him with some dogs to a brotherin-law of his who lived upon the moors; but whether no one noticed the fact, or if they did, preferred to be silent, i know not, no observations were made. nothing came of the investigation, and the whole subject would have colonel halifax's story 187 dropped if it had not been that two years later, for some reasons i do not understand, but at the instigation of a magistrate recently imported into the division, whom my grandfather greatly disliked, and who was opposed to him in politics, a fresh inquiry was instituted. in the course of that inquiry it transpired that, owing to some unguarded words dropped by the under-keeper, a warrant was about to be issued for his arrest. my grandfather, who had had a fit of the gout, was away from home at the time, but on hearing the news he came home at once. the evening he returned he had a long interview with the young man, who left the house after he had supped in the servants' hall. it was observed that he looked much depressed. the warrant was issued the next day, but in the meantime the keeper had disappeared. my grandfather gave orders to all his own people to do everything in their power to assist the authorities in the search that was at once set on foot, but was unable himself to take any share in it. "no trace of the keeper was found, although at a subsequent period rumours circulated that he had been heard of in america. but the man having been unmarried, he gradually dropped out of remembrance, and as my grandfather never allowed the subject to be mentioned in his presence, i should probably never have known anything about it but for the vague tradition which always attaches to such events, and for this fact: that after my grandfather's death a letter came addressed to him from somewhere in the united states from someone—the name different from that of the keeper—but alluding to the past, and implying the presence of a common secret, and, of course, with it came a request for money. i replied, mentioning the death of sir richard, and asking for an explanation. i did get an answer, and it is from that that i am able to fill in so much of the story. but i never learned where the man had been killed and buried, and my next letter to the fellow was returned with 'deceased' 188 a book of ghosts written across it. somehow, it never occurred to me till i heard your story that possibly the skeleton in the chalkpit might be that of the poaching tinker. i will now most assuredly have it buried in the churchyard." “that certainly ought to be done,” said i. “and—” said sir francis, after a pause, “i give you my word. after the burial of the bones, and you are gone, i will sleep for a week in the bed in the gallery, and report to you if i see or hear anything. if all be quiet, then-well, you form your own conclusions.” i left a day after. before long i got a letter from my friend, brief but to the point: “all quiet, old boy ; come again.” the merewigs uring the time that i lived in essex, i had the pleasure of knowing major donelly, retired on halfpay, who had spent many years in india; he was a man of great powers of observation, and possessed an inexhaustible fund of information of the most valuable quality, which he was ready to communicate to his intimates, among whom was i. major donelly is now no more, and the world is thereby the poorer. major donelly took an interest in everythinganthropology, mechanics, archæology, physical science, natural history, the stock market, politics. in fact, it was not possible in conversation to broach a subject with which he was wholly unacquainted, and concerning which he was not desirous of acquiring further information. a man of this description is not to be held by lightly. i grappled him to my heart. one day when we were taking a constitutional walk together, i casually mentioned the “red hills.” he had never heard of them, inquired, and i told him what little i knew on the matter. the red hills are mounds of burnt clay of a brick-red colour, found at intervals along the fringe of the marshes on the east coast. of the date of their formation and the purpose they were destined to discharge, nothing has been certainly ascertained. theories have been formed, and have been held to with tenacity, but these are unsupported by sound evidence. and yet, one would have supposed that these mysterious mounds would have been subjected to a careful scientific exploration to 189 190 a book of ghosts determine by the discovery of flint tools, potsherds, or coins to what epoch they belong, and that some clue should be discovered as to their purport. but at the time when i was in essex, no such study had been attempted; whether any has been undertaken since i am unable to say. i mentioned to donelly some of the suppositions offered as to the origin of these red hills; that they represented salt-making works, that they were funereal erections, that they were artificial bases for the huts of fishers. " that is it,” said the major, “no doubt about it. to keep off the ague. do you not know that burnt clay is a sure protection against ague, which was the curse of the essex marsh land? in central africa, in the districts that lie low and there is morass, the natives are quite aware of the fact, and systematically form a bed of burnt clay as a platform on which to erect their hovels. now look here, my dear friend, i'd most uncommonly like to take a boat along with you, and explore both sides of the blackwater to begin with, and its inlets, and to tick down on the ordnance map every red hill we can find.” “i am quite ready," i replied. “there is one thing to remember. a vast number of these hills have been ploughed down, but you can certainly detect where they were by the colour of the soil.” accordingly, on the next fine day we engaged a boatnot a rower—for we could manage it between us, and started on our expedition. the country around the blackwater is flat, and the land slides into the sea and river with so slight an incline, that a good extent of debatable ground exists, which may be reckoned as belonging to both. vast marshes are found occasionally flooded, covered with the wild lavender, and in june flushed with the seathrift. they nourish a coarse grass, and a bastard samphire. these marshes are threaded, cobweb fashion, by myriads of lines of water and mud that intercommunicate. woe to the man who either stumbles the merewigs 191 evening latter st leisuboat, into, or in jumping falls into, one of these breaks in the surface of land. he sinks to his waist in mud. at certain times, when no high tides are expected, sheep are driven upon these marshes and thrive. they manage to leap the runnels, and the shepherd is aware when danger threatens, and they must be driven off. nearer the mainland are dykes thrown up, none know when, to reclaim certain tracts of soil, and on the land side are invariably stagnant ditches, where mosquitoes breed in myriads. further up grow oak trees, and in summer to these the mosquitoes betake themselves in swarms, and may be seen in the evening swaying in such dense clouds above the trees that these latter seem to be on fire and smoking. major donelly and i leisurely paddled about, running into creeks, leaving our boat, identifying our position on the map, and marking in the position of such red hills or their traces as we lighted on. major donelly and i pretty well explored the left bank up to a certain point, when he proposed that we should push across to the other. "i should advise doing thoroughly the upper reach of the blackwater," said he, “and we shall then have completed one section." “all right," i responded, and we turned the boat's head to cross. unhappily, we had not calculated that the estuary was full of mudbanks. moreover, the tide was ebbing, and before very long we grounded. “confound it !” said the major, "we are on a mudbank. what a fix we are in.” we laboured with the oars to thrust off, but could touch no solid ground, to obtain purchase sufficient for our purpose. then said donelly : “ the only thing to be done is for one of us to step onto the bank and thrust the boat off. i will do that. i have on an old shabby pair of trousers that don't matter." 192 a book of ghosts "no, indeed, you shall not. i will go," and at the word i sprang overboard. but the major had jumped simultaneously, and simultaneously we sank in the horrible slime. it had the consistency of spinach. i do not mean such as english cooks send us to table, half-mashed and often gritty, but the spinach as served at a french table d'hôte, that has been pulped through a fine hair sieve. and what is more, it apparently had no bottom. for aught i know it might go down a mile in depth towards the centre of the globe, and it stank abominably. we both clung to the sides of the boat to save ourselves from sinking altogether. there we were, one on each side, clinging to the bulwarks and looking at one another. for a moment or two neither spoke. donelly was the first to recover his presence of mind, and after wiping his mouth on the gunwale from the mud that had squirted over it, he said: “can you get out?” "hardly," said i. we tugged at the boat, it squelched about, splashing the slime over us, till it plastered our heads and faces and covered our hands. “this will never do," said he. “we must get in together, and by instalments. look here! when i say 'three,' throw in your left leg if you can get it out of the mud.” “i will do my best.” "and," he said further, “we must do so both at the same moment. now, don't be a sneak and try to get in your body whilst i am putting in my leg, or you will upset the boat." "i never was a sneak," i retorted angrily, "and i certainly will not be one in what may be the throes of death." “all right," said the major. “one-two-three!” instantly both of us drew our left legs out of the mud, and projected them over the sides into the boat. “how are you?” asked he. “got your leg in all right?" “all but my boot," i replied, “and that has been sucked off my foot." the merewigs 193 “oh, bother the boot,” said the major, “so long as your leg is safe within, and has not been sucked off. that would have disturbed the equipoise. now then--next we must have our trunks and right legs within. take a long breath, and wait till i call three.'” we paused, panting with the strain ; then donelly, in a stentorian voice, shouted: “one-two-three !" instantly we writhed and strained, and finally, after a convulsive effort, both were landed in the bottom of the boat. we picked ourselves up and seated ourselves, each on one bulwark, looking at one another. we were covered with the foul slime from head to foot, our clothes were caked, so were our hands and faces. but we were secure. "here,” said donelly, "we shall have to remain for six hours till the tide flows, and the boat is lifted. it is of no earthly use for us to shout for help. even if our calls were heard, no one could come out to us. here, then, we stick and must make the best of it. happily the sun is hot, and will cake the mud about us, and then we can pick off some of it." the prospect was not inviting. but i saw no means of escape. presently donelly said: “it is good that we brought our luncheon with us, and above all some whisky, which is the staff of life. look here, my dear fellow. i wish it were possible to get this stinking stuff off our hands and faces; it smells like the scouring poured down the sink in satan's own back kitchen. is there not a bottle of claret in the basket ?" “yes, i put one in." “then," said he, “the best use we can put it to is to wash our faces and hands in it. claret is poor drink, and there is the whisky to fall back on.” “the water has all ebbed away," i remarked. “we cannot clean ourselves in that." 194 a book of ghosts “then uncork the saint julien." there was really no help for it. the smell of the mud was disgusting, and it turned one's stomach. so i pulled out the cork, and we performed our ablutions in the claret. that done, we returned to our seats on the gunwale, one on each side, and looked sadly at one another. six hours ! that was an interminable time to spend on a mudflat in the blackwater. neither of us was much inclined to speak. after the lapse of a quarter of an hour, the major proposed refreshments. accordingly we crept together into the bottom of the boat and there discussed the contents of the hamper, and we certainly did full justice to the whisky bottle. for we were wet to the skin, and beplastered from head to foot in the ill-savoured mud. when we had done the chicken and ham, and drained the whisky jar, we returned to our several positions vis-à-vis. it was essential that the balance of the boat should be maintained. major donelly was now in a communicative mood. "i will say this,” observed he ; “that you are the bestinformed and most agreeable man i have met with in colchester and chelmsford." i would not record this remark but for what it led up to. i replied—i dare say i blushed-but the claret in my face made it red, anyhow. i replied : “you flatter me." “not at all. i always say what i think. you have plenty of information, and you'll grow your wings, and put on rainbow colours." “what on earth do you mean?" i inquired. “do you not know," said he, “that we shall all of us, some day, develop wings? grow into angels! what do you suppose that ethereal pinions spring out of? they do not develop out of nothing. ex nihilo nihil fit. you cannot think that they are the ultimate produce of ham and chicken." "nor of whisky." the merewigs 195 “nor of whisky," he repeated. “you know it is so with the grub." “grub is ambiguous," i observed. "i do not mean victuals, but the caterpillar. that creature spends its short life in eating, eating, eating. look at a cabbage-leaf, it is riddled with holes; the grub has consumed all that vegetable matter, and i will inform you for what purpose. it retires into its chrysalis, and during the winter a transformation takes place, and in spring it breaks forth as a glorious butterfly. the painted wings of the insect in its second stage of existence are the sublimated cabbage it has devoured in its condition of larva." “quite so. what has that to do with me?”. "we are also in our larva condition. but do not for a moment suppose that the wings we shall put on with rainbow painting are the produce of what we eat here—of ham and chicken, kidneys, beef, and the like. no, sir, certainly not. they are fashioned out of the information we have absorbed, the knowledge we have acquired during the first stage of life.” "how do you know that?". “i will tell you," he answered. “i had a remarkable experience once. it is a rather long story, but as we have some five hours and a half to sit here looking at one another till the tide rises and floats us, i may as well tell you, and it will help to the laying on of the colours on your pinions when you acquire them. you would like to hear the tale?” “above all things." “there is a sort of prologue to it," he went on. “i cannot well dispense with it as it leads up to what i particularly want to say." "by all means let me have the prologue, if it be instructive." “it is eminently instructive,” he said. “but before i begin, just pass me the bottle, if there is any whisky left.” 196 a book of ghosts " it is drained,” i said. “well, well, it can't be helped. when i was in india, i moved from one place to another, and i had pitched my tent in a certain spot. i had a native servant. i forget what his real name was, and it does not matter. i always called him alec. he was a curious fellow, and the other servants stood in awe of him. they thought that he saw ghosts and had familiar dealings with the spiritual world. he was honest as natives go. he would not allow anyone else to rob me; but, of course, he filched things of mine himself. we are accustomed to that, and think nothing of it. but it was a satisfaction that he kept the fingers of the others off my property. well, one night, when, as i have informed you, my tent was pitched on a spot i considered eminently convenient, i slept very uncomfortably. it was as though a centipede were crawling over me. next morning i spoke to alec, and told him my experiences, and bade him search well my mattress and the floor of my tent. a hindu's face is impassive, but i thought i detected in his eyes a twinkle of understanding. nevertheless i did not give it much thought. next night it was as bad, and in the morning i found my panjams slit from head to foot. i called alec to me and held up the garment, and said how uncomfortable i had been. 'ah! sahib,' said he, 'that is the doings of abdulhamid, the blood-thirsty scoundrel !'” "excuse me," i interrupted. “did he mean the present sultan of turkey ?". “no, quite another, of the same name.” " i beg your pardon," i said. “but when you mentioned him as a bloodthirsty scoundrel, i supposed it must be he.” "it was not he. it was another. call him, if you like, the other abdul. but to proceed with my story." "one inquiry more," said i. “surely abdulhamid cannot be a hindu name?” oficht i dete did not she morning the merewigs 197 “i did not say that it was,” retorted the major with a touch of asperity in his tone. “he was doubtless a mohammedan.” “but the name is rather turkish or arabic." "i am not responsible for that; i was not his godfathers and godmothers at his baptism. i am merely repeating what alec told me. if you are so captious, i shall shut up and relate no more." “do not take umbrage," said i. “i surely have a right to test the quality of the material i take in, out of which my wings are to be evolved. go ahead; i will interrupt no further.” “very well, then, let that be understood between us. are you caking?" "slowly," i replied. “the sun is hot; i am drying up on one side of my body." “i think that we had best shift sides of the boat," said the major. " it is the same with me." accordingly, with caution, we crossed over, and each took the seat on the gunwale lately occupied by the other. “there," said donelly. “how goes the enemy? my watch got smothered in the mud, and has stopped.” “mine,” i explained, “is plastered into my waistcoat pocket, and i cannot get at it without messing my fingers, and there is no more claret left for a wash; the whisky is all inside us.” “well,” said the major, “it does not matter; there is plenty of time before us for the rest of my story. let me see-where was i? oh! where alec mentioned abdulhamid, the inferior scoundrel, not the sultan alec went on to say that he was himself possessed of a remarkably keen scent for blood, even though it had been shed a century before his time, and that my tent had been pitched and my bed spread over a spot marked by a most atrocious crime. that abdul of whom he had made mention had been a man steeped in crimes of the most 198 a book of ghosts atrocious character. of course, he did not come up in wickedness to his illustrious namesake, but that was because he lacked the opportunities with which the other is so favoured. on the very identical spot where i then was, this same bloodstained villain had perpetrated his worst iniquity-he had murdered his father and mother, and aunt, and his children. after that he was taken and hanged. when his soul parted from his body, in the ordinary course it would have entered into the shell of a scorpion or some other noxious creature, and so have mounted through the scale of beings, by one incarnation after another, till he attained once more to the high estate of man." "excuse the interruption," said i, “but i think you intimated that this abdulhamid was a mohammedan, and the sons of the prophet do not believe in the transmigration of souls.” "that,” said donelly, " is precisely the objection i raised to alec. but he told me that souls after death are not accommodated with a future according to the creeds they hold, but according to destiny: that whatever a man might suppose during life as to the condition of his future state, there was but one truth to which they would all have their eyes opened-the truth held by the hindus, viz. the transmigration of souls from stage to stage, ever progressing upward to man, and then to recommence the interminable circle of reincarnation. “so,' said i, “it was abdul in the form of a scorpion who was tickling my ribs all night.' 'no, sahib,' replied my native servant very gravely. he was too wicked to be suffered to set his foot, so to speak, on the lowest rung of the ladder of existences. the doom went forth against him that he must haunt the scenes of his former crimes, till he found a man sleeping over one of them, and on that man must be a mole, and out of that mole must grow three hairs. these hairs he must pluck out and plant on the grave of his final victims, the merewigs 199 and water them with his tears. and the flowing of these first drops of penitence would enable him to pass at once into the first stage of the circle of incarnations.' 'why,' said i, 'that unredeemed ruffian was mole-hunting over me the last two nights! but what do you say to these slit panjams?' 'sahib,' replied alec, ‘he did that with his nails. i presume he turned you over, and ripped them so as to get at your back and feel for the so-much-desired mole.' "i'll have the tent shifted,' said i. nothing will induce me to sleep another night on this accursed spot.'” donelly paused, and proceeded to take off some flakes of mud that had formed on his sleeve. we really were beginning to get drier, but in drying we stiffened, as the mud became hard about us like pie-crust. “so far," said i, "we have had no wings.” “ i am coming to them,” replied the major ; “i have now concluded the prologue.” “oh! that was the prologue, was it?" “yes. have you anything against it? it was the prologue. now i will go on with the main substance of my story. about a year after that incident i retired on halfpay, and returned to england. what became of alec i did not know, nor care a hang. i had been in england for a little over two years, when one day i was walking along great russell street, and passing the gates of the british museum, i noticed a hindu standing there, looking wretchedly cold and shabby. he had a tray containing bangles and necklaces and gewgaws, made in germany, which he was selling as oriental works of art. as i passed, he saluted me, and, looking steadily at him, i recognised alec. why, what brings you here?' i inquired, vastly astonished. 'sahib may well ask,' he replied. “i came over because i thought i might better my condition. i had heard speak of a psychical research society established in london; and with my really extraordinary gifts, i thought that i might be of value to it, and be taken 200 a book of ghosts in and paid an annuity if i supplied it continuously with well-authenticated, first-hand ghost stories.' 'well,' said i, and have you succeeded?' 'no, sahib. i cannot find it. i have inquired after it from several of the crossing-sweepers, and they could not inform me of its whereabouts; and if i applied to the police, they bade me take myself off, there was no such a thing. i should have starved, sahib, if it had not been that i had taken to this line'; he pointed to his tray. "does that pay well ?' i asked. he shook his head sadly. very poorly. i can live—that is all. there goes in a merewig. 'how many of these rubbishy bangles can you dispose of in a day?' i inquired. “that depends, sahib. it varies so greatly, and the profits are very small. so small that i can barely get along. there goes in another merewig.' 'where are all these things made?' i asked. 'in germany or in birmingham?' 'oh, sahib, how can i tell? i get them from a jew dealer. he supplies various street-hawkers. but i shall give it up-it does not payand shall set up a stall and dispose of turkish delight. there is always a run on that. you english have a sweet tooth. that's a merewig,' and he pointed to a dowdy female, with a reticule on her arm, who, at that moment, went through the painted iron gates. what do you mean by merewigs?' said i. 'does not sahib know?' alec's face expressed genuine surprise. 'if sahib will go into the great reading-room, he will see scores of them there. it is their great london haunt; they pass in all day, mainly in the morning—some are in very early, so soon as the museum is open at nine o'clock. and they usually remain there all day picking up information, acquiring knowledge.' “you mean the students.' 'not all the students, but a large percentage of them. i know them in a moment. sahib is aware that i have great gifts for the discernment of spirits.' "by the way,” broke off donelly, “ do you understand hindustani ? " the merewigs 201 “not a word of it," i replied. “i am sorry for that,” said he, “because i could tell you what passed between us so much easier in hindustani. i am able to speak and understand it as readily as english, and the matter i am going to relate would come off my tongue so much easier in that language." “you might as well speak it in chinese. i should be none the wiser. wait a moment. i am cracking." it was so. the heat of the sun was sensibly affecting my crust of mud. i think i must have resembled a fine old painting, the varnish of which is stained and traversed by an infinity of minute fissures, a perfect network of cracks. i stood up and stretched myself, and split in several places. moreover, portions of my muddy envelope began to curl at the edges. "don't be in too great a hurry to peel," advised donelly. “we have abundance of time still before us, and i want to proceed with my narrative.” “go on, then. when are we coming to the wings?" "directly,” replied he. “well, then — if you cannot receive what i have to say in hindustani, i must do my best to give you the substance of alec's communication in the vulgar tongue. i will epitomise it. the hindu went on to explain in this fashion. he informed me that with us, christians and white people, it is not the same as with the dusky and the yellow races. after death we do not pass into the bodies of the lower animals, which is a great privilege and ought to afford us immense satisfaction. we at once progress into a higher condition of life. we develop wings, as does the butterfly when it emerges from its condition of grub. but the matter out of which the wings are produced is nothing gross. they are formed, or form themselves, out of the information with which we have filled our brains during life. we lay up, during our mortal career here, a large amount of knowledge, of scientific, historical, philosophic, and like acquisitions, and these form the so-to202 a book of ghosts mutation takes placer are our wings; this their painting. speak psychic pulp out of which, by an internal and mysterious and altogether inexplicable process, the transmutation takes place into our future wings. the more we have stored, the larger are our wings; the more varied the nature, the more radiant and coloured is their painting. when, at death, the brain is empty, there can be no wingdevelopment. out of nothing, nothing can arise. that is a law of nature absolutely inexorable in its application. and this is why you will never have to regret sticking in the mud to-day, my friend. i have supplied you with such an amount of fresh and valuable knowledge, that i believe you will have pinions painted hereafter with peacock's eyes." "i am most obliged to you," said i, splitting into a thousand cakes with the emotion that agitated me. donelly proceeded. “i was so interested in what alec told me, that i said to him, 'come along with me into the nineveh room, and we shall be able to thrash this matter out.' 'ah, sahib,' he replied, 'they will not allow me to take in my tray. very well,' said i, then we will find a step before the portico, one not too much frequented by the pigeons, and will sit there.' he agreed. but the porter at the gate demurred to letting the hindu through. he protested that no trafficking was allowed on the premises. i explained that none was purposed; that the man and i proposed a discussion on psychological topics. this seemed to content the porter, and he suffered alec to pass through with me. we picked out as clean a portion of the steps as we could, and seated ourselves on it side by side, and then the hindu went on with what he was saying." donelly and i were now drying rapidly. as we sat facing each other we must have looked very much like the chocolate men one sees in confectioners' shops-of course, i mean on a much larger scale, and not of the same warm tint, and, of course, also, we did not exhale the same aromatic odour. “when we were seated," proceeded donelly, “i felt the the merewigs 203 cold of the stone steps strike up into my system, and as i have had a touch or two of lumbago since i came home, i stood up again, took a copy of the standard out of my pocket, folded it, and placed it between myself and the step. i did, however, pull out the inner leaf, that containing the leaders, and presented it to alec for the same purpose. orientals are insensible to kindness, and are deficient in the virtue of gratitude. but this delicate trait of attention did touch the benighted heathen. his lip quivered, and he became, if possible, more than ever communicative. he nudged me with his tray and said, * there goes out a merewig. i wonder why she leaves so soon?' i saw a middle-aged woman in a gown of grey, with greasy splotches on it, and the braid unsewn at the skirt trailing in a loop behind. "what are the merewigs?' i asked. i will give you what i learned in my own words. all men and women-i allude only to europeans and americans— in the first stage of their life are bound morally, and in their own interest, to acquire and store up in their brains as much information as these will hold, for it is out of this that their wings will be evolved in their second stage of existence. of course, the more varied this information is, the better. men inevitably accumulate knowledge. even if they assimilate very little at school, yet, as young men, they necessarily take in a good dealof course, i exempt the mashers, who never learn anything. even in sport they obtain something; but in business, by reading, by association, by travel, they go on piling up a store. you see that in common conversation they cannot escape doing this; politics, social questions, points of natural history, scientific discoveries form the staple of their talk, so that the mind of a man is necessarily kept replenished. but with women this is not the case. young girls read nothing whatever but novels—they might as well feed on soap-bubbles. in their conversation with one another they twaddle, they do not talk.” 204 a book of ghosts “but,” protested i, “in our civilised society young women associate freely with men." "that is true," replied he. “but to what is their dialogue limited ?—to ragging, to frivolous jokes. men do not talk to them on rational topics, for they know well enough that such topics do not interest girls, and that they are wholly incapable of applying their minds to them. it is wondered why so many englishmen look out for american wives. that is because the american girl takes pains to cultivate her mind, becomes a rational and well-educated woman. she can enter into her husband's interests, she can converse with him on almost every topic. she becomes his companion. that the modern english girl cannot be. her head is as hollow as a drum. now, if she grows up and marries, or even remains an old maid, the case is altered; she takes to keeping poultry, she becomes passionately fond of gardening, and she acquires a fund of information on the habits and customs of the domestic servant. the consequence of this is, that the vast majority of english young women who die early, die with nothing stored up in their brains out of which the wings may be evolved. in the larva condition they have consumed nothing that can serve them to bring them into the higher state.” “so," said i,“we are all, you and i, in the larva condition as well as girls.” "quite so, we are larvæ like them, only they are more so. to proceed. when girls die, without having acquired any profitable knowledge, as you well see, they cannot rise. they become merewigs.” “oh, that is merewigs," said i, greatly astonished. “yes, but the merewigs i had seen pass in and out of the british museum, whether to study the collections or to work in the reading-room, were middle-aged for the most part." “how do you explain that?" i asked. the merewigs 205 “i give you only what i received from alec. there are male merewigs, but they are few and far between, for the reasons i have given to you. i suppose there are ninety-nine female merewigs to one male." “you astonish me.” "i was astonished when i learned this from alec. now i will tell you something further. all the souls of the girls who have died empty-headed in the preceding twenty-four hours in england assemble at four o'clock every morning, or rather a few minutes before the stroke of the clock, about the statue of queen anne in front of st. paul's cathedral, with a possible sprinkling of male masher souls among them. at the stroke of the clock, off the whole swarm rushes up holborn hill, along oxford street, whither i cannot certainly say. alec told me that it is for all the world like the rush of an army of rats in the sewers." “but what can that hindu know of underground london?" "he knows because he lodges in the house of a sewerman, with whom he has become on friendly terms." “then you do not know whither this galloping legion runs ?” “not exactly, for alec was not sure. but he tells me they tear away to the great garde-robe of discarded female bodies. they must get into these, so as to make up for the past, and acquire knowledge, out of which wings may be developed. of course there is a scamble for these bodies, for there are at least half a dozen applicants. at first only the abandoned husks of old maids were given them, but the supply having proved to be altogether inadequate, they are obliged to put up with those of married women and widows. there was some demur as to this, but beggars must not be choosers. and so they become merewigs. there are more than a sufficiency of old bachelors' outer cases hanging up in the garde-robe, but the girls will not get into them at any price. now you understand what 206 a book of ghosts y can picaid 1,“ and he drying?" merewigs are, and why they swarm in the reading-room of the british museum. they are there picking up information as hard as they can pick." “this is extremely interesting,” said i, “and novel.” "i thought you would say so. how goes on the drying?” “i have been picking off clots of clay while you have been talking." “ i hope you are interested,” said donelly. "interested," i replied, “is not the word for it." “i am glad you think so," said the major ; "i was intensely interested in what alec told me, so much so that i proposed he should come with me into the reading-room, and point out to me such as he perceived by his remarkable gift of discernment of spirits were actual merewigs. but again the difficulty of his tray was objected, and alec further intimated that he was missing opportunities of disposing of his trinkets by spending so much time conversing with me. “as to that,' said i,‘i will buy half a dozen of your bangles and present them to my lady friends; as coming from me, an oriental traveller, they will believe them to be genuine--"" “as your experiences," interpolated i. “what do you mean by that?” he inquired sharply. “nothing more than this,” rejoined i,“that faith is grown weak among females nowadays." “that is certainly true. it is becoming a sadly incredulous sex. i further got over alec's difficulty about the tray by saying that it could be left in the custody of one of the officials at the entrance. then he consented. we passed through the swing-door and deposited the tray with the functionary who presides over umbrellas and walking-sticks. then i went forward along with my hindu towards the reading-room. but here another hindrance arose. alec had no ticket, and therefore might not enter beyond the glass screen interposed between the door and the readers. some demur was made as to his being allowed the merewigs 207 to remain there for any considerable time, but i got over that by means of a little persuasion. "sahib,' said alec, 'i should suggest your marking the merewigs, so as to be able to recognise them elsewhere.' 'how can i do that?' i inquired. i have here with me a piece of french chalk,' he answered. “you go within, sahib, and walk up and down by the tables, behind the chairs of the readers, or around the circular cases that contain the catalogues, and where the students are looking out for the books they desire to consult. when you pass a female, either seated or standing, glance towards the glass screen, and when you are by a merewig i will hold up my hand above the screen, and you will know her to be one; then just scrawl a wor m, or any letter or cabalistic symbol that occurs to you, upon her back with the french chalk. then whenever you meet her in the street, in society, at an a. b. c. place of refreshment, on a railway platform, you will recognise her infallibly. 'not likely,' i objected. of course, so soon as she gets home, she will brush off the mark.' “you do not know much of the merewigs,' he said. "when the spirits of those frivolous girls were in their first stage of existence, they were most particular about their personal appearance, about the neatness and stylishness of their dress, and the puffing and piling up of their hair. now all that is changed. they are so disgusted at having to get into any unsouled body that they can lay hold of in the garde-robe, such a body being usually plain in features, middle-aged, and with no waist to speak of, or rather too ample in the waist to be elegant, that they have abandoned all concern about dress and tidiness. besides, they are engrossed in the acquisition of knowledge, and the burning desire that consumes them is to get out of these borrowed cases as speedily as may be. consequently, so long as they are dressed and their hair done up anyhow, that is all they care about. as to threads, or feathers, or french chalk marks on their clothes, they would not think of desire tied in the cat dress agant, tha peak of, o 208 a book of ghosts womelles of box engaged looking for them. then alec handed to me a little piece of french chalk, such as tailors and dressmakers employ to indicate alterations when fitting on garments. so provided, i passed wholly into the spacious reading-room, leaving the hindu behind the screen. "i slowly strayed down the first line of desks and chairs, which were fully engaged. there were many men there, with piles of books at their sides. there were also some women. i stepped behind one, and turned my head towards the screen, but alec made no sign. at the second, however, up went his hand above it, and i hastily scrawled m, on her back as she stooped over her studies. i had time, moreover, to see what she was engaged upon. she was working up deep-sea soundings, beginning with that recorded by schiller in his ballad of 'the diver,' down to the last scientific researches in the bottom of the atlantic and the pacific, and the dredgings in the north sea. she was engrossed in her work, and was picking up facts at a prodigious rate. she was a woman of, i should say, forty, with a cadaverous face, a shapeless nose, and enormous hands. her dress was grey, badly fitted, and her boots were even worse made. her hair was drawn back and knotted in a bunch behind, with the pins sticking out. it might have been better brushed. i passed on behind her back; the next occupants of seats were gentlemen, so i stepped to another row of desks, and looking round saw alec's hand go up. i was behind a young lady in a felt hat, crunched in at top, and with a feather at the side; she wore a pea-jacket, with large smoked buttons, and beneath it a dull green gown, very short in the skirt, and brown boots. her hair was cut short like that of a man. as i halted, she looked round, and i saw that she had hard, brown eyes, like pebbles, without a gleam of tenderness or sympathy in them. i cannot say whether this was due to the body she had assumed, or to the soul which had entered into the body-whether the lack was in the shed. ts werin oking av in the merewigs 209 organ, or in the psychic force which employed the organ. i merely state the fact. i looked over her shoulder to see what she was engaged upon, and found that she was working her way diligently through herbert spencer. i scored a w on her back and went on. the next merewig i had to scribble on was a wizen old lady, with little grey curls on the temples, very shabby in dress, and very antiquated in costume. her fingers were dirty with ink, and the ink did not appear to me to be all of that day's application. besides, i saw that she had been rubbing her nose. i presume it had been tickling, and she had done this with a finger still wet with ink, so that there was a smear on her face. she was engaged on the peerage. she had dod, burke, and foster before her, and was getting up the authentic pedigrees of our noble families and their ramifications. i noticed with her as with the other merewigs, that when they had swallowed a certain amount of information they held up their heads much like fowls after drinking "the next that i marked was a very thin woman of an age i was quite unable to determine. she had a pointed nose, and was dressed in red. she looked like a stick of sealing-wax. the gown had probably enough been good and showy at one time, but it was ripped behind now, and the stitches showed, besides, a little bit of what was beneath. there was a frilling, or ruche, or tucker, about the throat that i think had been sewn into it three weeks before. i drew a note of interrogation on her back with my bit of french chalk. i wanted much to find out what she was studying, but could not. she turned round and asked sharply what i was stooping over for and breathing on the back of her neck. so i was forced to go on to the next. this was a lady fairly well dressed in the dingiest of colours, wearing spectacles. i believe that she wore divided skirts, but as she did not stand up and walk, i cannot be certain. i am particular never to 210 a book of ghosts make a statement of which i am not absolutely certain. she was engaged upon the subject of the land laws in various countries, on common land, and property in land; and she was at that time devoting her special attention to the constitution of the russian mir, and the tenure of land under it. i scrawled on her back the zodiacal sign for venus, the virgin, and went further. but when i had marked seventeen i gave it up. i had already gone over the desks to l, beginning backward, and that sufficed, so i returned to alec, paid him for the bangles, and we separated. i did, however, give him a letter to the secretary of the psychical research society, and addressed it, having found what i wanted in the london directory, which was in the reading-room of the british museum. two days later i met, by appointment, my hindu once more, and for the last time. he had not been received as he had anticipated by the psychical research society, and thought of getting back to india at the first opportunity. " it is remarkable that, a few days later, i saw in the underground one of those i had marked. the chalk mark was still quite distinct. she was not in my compartment, but i noticed her as she stepped out on to the platform at baker street. i suspect she was on her way to madame tussaud's waxwork exhibition, to instruct her mind there. but i was more fortunate a week later when i was at st. albans. i had an uncle living there from whom i had expectations, and i paid him a visit. whilst there, a lecture was to be given on the spectroscope, and as my acquaintance with that remarkable invention of modern times was limited, i resolved to go. have you, my friend, ever taken up the subject of the photosphere of the sun ?” “never.” “then let me press it upon you. it will really supply a large amount of wing-pulp, if properly assimilated. it is a most astonishing thought that we are able, at the remote distance at which we are from the solar orb, to detect the the merewigs 211 various incandescent metals which go to make up the luminous envelope of the sun. not only so, but we are able to discover, by the bars in the spectroscope, of what jupiter, saturn, and so on are composed. what a stride astronomy has made since the days of newton!” "no doubt about it. but i do not want to hear about the bars, but of the chalk marks on the merewigs.” "well, then, i noticed two elderly ladies sitting in the row before me, and there—as distinctly as if sketched in only yesterday—were the symbols i had scribbled on their backs. i did not have an opportunity of speaking with them then ; indeed, i had no introduction to them, and could hardly take on me to address them without it. i was, however, more successful a week or two later. there was a meeting of the hertfordshire archæological society organised, to last a week, with excursions to ancient verulam and to other objects of interest in the county. hertfordshire is not a large county. it is, in fact, one of the smallest in england, but it yields to none in the points of interest that it contains, apart from the venerable abbey church that has been so fearfully mauled and maltreated by ignorant so-called restoration. one must really hope that the next generation, which will be more enlightened than our own, will undo all the villainous work that has been perpetrated to disfigure it in our own. the local secretaries and managers had arranged for char-à-bancs and brakes to take the party about, and men-learned, or thinking themselves to be learned, on the several antiquities -were to deliver lectures on the spot explanatory of what we saw. on three days there were to be evening gatherings, at which papers would be read. you may conceive that this was a supreme opportunity for storing the mind with information, and knowing what i did, i resolved on taking advantage of it. i entered my name as a subscriber to all the excursions. on the first day we went over the remains of the old roman city of verulam, and were 212 a book of ghosts shown its plan and walls, and further, the spot where the protomartyr of britain passed over the stream, and the hill on which he was martyred. nothing could have been more interesting and more instructive. among those present were three middle-aged personages of the female sex, all of whom were chalk-marked on the back. one of these marks was somewhat effaced, as though the lady whose gown was scored had made a faint effort to brush it off, but had tired of the attempt and had abandoned it. the other two scorings were quite distinct. “on this, the first day, though i sidled up to these three merewigs, i did not succeed in ingratiating myself into their favour sufficiently to converse with them. you may well understand, my friend, that such an opportunity of getting out of them some of their merewigian experiences was not to be allowed to slip. on the second day i was more successful. i managed to obtain a seat in a brake between two of them. we were to drive to a distant spot where was a church of considerable architectural interest. "well, in these excursions a sort of freemasonry exists between the archæologists who share in them, and no ceremonious introductions are needed. for instance, you say to the lady next to you, ‘am i squeezing you?' and the ice is broken. i did not, however, attempt to draw any information from those between whom i was seated, till after luncheon, a most sumptuous repast, with champagne, liberally given to the society by a gentleman of property, to whose house we drove up just about one o'clock. there was plenty of champagne supplied, and i did not stint myself. i felt it necessary to take in a certain amount of dutch courage before broaching to my companions in the brake the theme that lay near my heart. when, however, we got into the conveyance, all in great spirits, after the conclusion of the lunch, i turned to my right-hand lady, and said to her: 'well, miss, i fear it will be a long time before you become angelic.' she turned her the merewigs 213 back upon me and made no reply. somewhat disconcerted, i now addressed myself to the chalk-marked lady on my left hand, and asked : ‘have you anything at all in your head except archæology?' instead of answering me in the kindly mood in which i spoke, she began at once to enter into a lively discussion with her neighbour on the opposite side of the carriage, and ignored me. i was not to be done in this way. i wanted information. but, of course, i could enter into the feelings of both. merewigs do not like to converse about themselves in their former stage of existence, of which they are ashamed, nor of the efforts they are making in this transitional stage to acquire a fund of knowledge for the purpose of ultimately discarding their acquired bodies, and developing their ethereal wings as they pass into the higher and nobler condition. "we left the carriage to go to a spot about a mile off, through lanes, muddy and rutty, for the purpose of inspecting some remarkable stones. all the party would not walk, and the conveyances could proceed no nearer. the more enthusiastic did go on, and i was of the number. what further stimulated me to do so was the fact that the third merewig, she who had partially cleaned my scoring off her back, plucked up her skirts, and strode ahead. i hurried after and caught her up. 'i beg your pardon,' said i. 'you must excuse the interest i take in antiquities, but i suppose it is a long time since you were a girl. of course, my meaning was obvious; i referred to her earlier existence, before she borrowed her present body. but she stopped abruptly, gave me a withering look, and went back to rejoin another group of pedestrians. ha! my friend, i verily believe that the boat is being lifted. the tide is flowing in." “the tide is flowing,” i said; and then added, "really, major donelly, your story ought not to be confined to the narrow circle of your intimates." “that is true," he replied. “but my desire to make it 214 a book of ghosts known has been damped by the way in which alec was received, or rather rejected, by the secretary of the society for psychical research.” “but i do not mean that you should tell it to the society for psychical research.” “to whom, then?” “ tell it to the horse marines.” the “bold venture” the little fisher-town of portstephen comprised two i strings of houses facing each other at the bottom of a narrow valley, down which the merest trickle of a stream decanted into the harbour. the street was so narrow that it was at intervals alone that sufficient space was accorded for two wheeled vehicles to pass one another, and the roadway was for the most part so narrow that each house door was set back in the depth of the wall, to permit the footpassenger to step into the recess to avoid being overrun by the wheels of a cart that ascended or descended the street. the inhabitants lived upon the sea and its produce. such as were not fishers were mariners, and but a small percentage remained that were neither the butcher, the baker, the smith, and the doctor; and these also lived by the sea, for they lived upon the sailors and fishermen. for the most part, the seafaring men were furnished with large families. the net in which they drew children was almost as well filled as the seine in which they trapped pilchards. jonas rea, however, was an exception; he had been married for ten years, and had but one child, and that a son. "you've a very poor haul, jonas," said to him his neighbour, samuel carnsew; “ i've been married so long as you and i've twelve. my wife has had twins twice.” " it's not a poor haul for me, samuel,” replied jonas. “i may have but one child, but he's a buster.” jonas had a mother alive, known as old betty rea. when he married, he had proposed that his mother, who 215 216 a book of ghosts was a widow, should live with him. but man proposes and woman disposes. the arrangement did not commend itself to the views of mrs. rea, junior—that is to say, of jane, jonas's wife. betty had always been a managing woman. she had managed her house, her children, and her husband; but she speedily was made aware that her daughter-in-law refused to be managed by her. jane was, in her way, also a managing woman: she kept her house clean, her husband's clothes in order, her child neat, and herself the very pink of tidiness. she was a somewhat hard woman, much given to grumbling and finding fault. jane and her mother-in-law did not come to an open and flagrant quarrel, but the fret between them waxed intolerable; and the curtain-lectures, of which the text and topic was old betty, were so frequent and so protracted that jonas convinced himself that there was smoother water in the worst sea than in his own house. he was constrained to break to his mother the unpleasant information that she must go elsewhere ; but he softened the blow by informing her that he had secured for her residence a tiny cottage up an alley, that consisted of two rooms only, one a kitchen, above that a bedchamber. the old woman received the communication without annoyance. she rose to the offer, for she had also herself considered that the situation had become unendurable. accordingly, with goodwill, she removed to her new quarters, and soon made the house look keen and cosy. but, so soon as jane gave indications of becoming a mother, it was agreed that betty should attend on her daughter-in-law. to this jane consented. after all, betty could not be worse than another woman, a stranger. and when jane was in bed, and unable to quit it, then betty once more reigned supreme in the house and managed everything-even her daughter-in-law. but the time of jane's lying upstairs was brief, and at the “bold venture” 217 the earliest possible moment she reappeared in the kitchen, pale indeed and weak, but resolute, and with firm hand withdrew the reins from the grasp of betty. in leaving her son's house, the only thing that betty regretted was the baby. to that she had taken a mighty affection, and she did not quit till she had poured forth into the deaf ear of jane a thousand instructions as to how the babe was to be fed, clothed, and reared. as a devoted son, jonas never returned from sea without visiting his mother, and when on shore saw her every day. he sat with her by the hour, told her of all that concerned him-except about his wife-and communicated to her all his hopes and wishes. the babe, whose name was peter, was a topic on which neither wearied of talking or of listening; and often did jonas bring the child over to be kissed and admired by his grandmother. jane raised objections—the weather was cold and the child would take a chill; grandmother was inconsiderate, and upset its stomach with sweetstuff; it had not a tidy dress in which to be seen : but jonas overruled all her objections. he was a mild and yielding man, but on this one point he was inflexible—his child should grow up to know, love, and reverence his mother as sincerely as did he himself. and these were delightful hours to the old woman, when she could have the infant on her lap, croon to it, and talk to it all the delightful nonsense that flows from the lips of a woman when caressing a child. moreover, when the boy was not there, betty was knitting socks or contriving pin-cases, or making little garments for him; and all the small savings she could gather from the allowance made by her son, and from the sale of some of her needlework, were devoted to the same grandchild. as the little fellow found his feet and was allowed to toddle, he often wanted to "go to granny,” not much to the approval of mrs. jane. and, later, when he went to school, he found his way to her cottage before he returned home 218 a book of ghosts so soon as his work hours in class were over. he very early developed a love for the sea and ships. this did not accord with mrs. jane's ideas; she came of a family that had ever been on the land, and she disapproved of the sea. “but,” remonstrated her husband, “he is my son, and i and my father and grandfather were all of us sea-dogs, so that, naturally, my part in the boy takes to the water." and now an idea entered the head of old betty. she resolved on making a ship for peter. she provided herself with a stout piece of deal of suitable size and shape, and proceeded to fashion it into the form of a cutter, and to scoop out the interior. at this peter assisted. after school hours he was with his grandmother watching the process, giving his opinion as to shape, and how the boat was to be rigged and furnished. the aged woman had but an old knife, no proper carpentering tools, consequently the progress made was slow. moreover, she worked at the ship only when peter was by. the interest excited in the child by the process was an attraction to her house, and it served to keep him there. further, when he was at home, he was being incessantly scolded by his mother, and the preference he developed for granny's cottage caused many a pang of jealousy in jane's heart. peter was now nine years old, and remained the only child, when a sad thing happened. one evening, when the little ship was rigged and almost complete, after leaving his grandmother, peter went down to the port. there happened to be no one about, and in craning over the quay to look into his father's boat, he overbalanced, fell in, and was drowned. the grandmother supposed that the boy had returned home, the mother that he was with his grandmother, and a couple of hours passed before search for him was instituted, and the body was brought home an hour after that. mrs. jane's grief at losing her child was united with resentment against old betty for having drawn the child away from the “ bold venture” 219 home, and against her husband for having encouraged it. she poured forth the vials of her wrath upon jonas. he it was who had done his utmost to have the boy killed, because he had allowed him to wander at large, and had provided him with an excuse by allowing him to tarry with old betty after leaving school, so that no one knew where he was. had jonas been a reasonable man, and a docile husband, he would have insisted on peter returning promptly home every day, in which case this disaster would not have occurred. “but,” said jane bitterly, "you never have considered my feelings, and i believe you did not love peter, and wanted to be rid of him.” the blow to betty was terrible; her heart-strings were wrapped about the little fellow; and his loss was to her the eclipse of all light, the death of all her happiness. when peter was in his coffin, then the old woman went to the house, carrying the little ship. it was now complete with sails and rigging. “jane," said she, “ i want thickey ship to be put in with peter. 'twere made for he, and i can't let another have it, and i can't keep it myself.” "nonsense," retorted mrs. rea, junior. “the boat can be no use to he, now.” “i wouldn't say that. there's naught revealed on them matters. but i'm cruel certain that up aloft there'll be a rumpus if peter wakes up and don't find his ship.” “ you may take it away; i'll have none of it,” said jane. so the old woman departed, but was not disposed to accept discomfiture. she went to the undertaker. “mr. matthews, i want you to put this here boat in wi' my gran'child peter. it will go in fitty at his feet.” " very sorry, ma'am, but not unless i break off the bowsprit. you see the coffin is too narrow.” “then put'n in sideways and longways." “very sorry, ma'am, but the mast is in the way. i'd be forced to break that so as to get the lid down.” 220 a book of ghosts disconcerted, the old woman retired; she would not suffer peter's boat to be maltreated. on the occasion of the funeral, the grandmother appeared as one of the principal mourners. for certain reasons, mrs. jane did not attend at the church and grave. as the procession left the house, old betty took her place beside her son, and carried the boat in her hand. at the close of the service at the grave, she said to the sexton: “i'll trouble you, john hext, to put this here little ship right o'top o' his coffin. i made'n for peter, and peter'll expect to have'n." this was done, and not a step from the grave would the grandmother take till the first shovelfuls had fallen on the coffin and had partially buried the white ship. when granny rea returned to her cottage, the fire was out. she seated herself beside the dead hearth, with hands folded and the tears coursing down her withered cheeks. her heart was as dead and dreary as that hearth. she had now no object in life, and she murmured a prayer that the lord might please to take her, that she might see her peter sailing his boat in paradise. her prayer was interrupted by the entry of jonas, who shouted : “mother, we want your help again. there's jane took bad; wi’ the worrit and the sorrow it's come on a bit earlier than she reckoned, and you're to come along as quick as you can. 'tisn't the lord gave and the lord hath taken away, but topsy-turvy, the lord hath taken away and is givin' again.” betty rose at once, and went to the house with her son, and again—as nine years previouslyfor a while she assuined the management of the house; and when a baby arrived, another boy, she managed that as well. the reign of betty in the house of jonas and jane was not for long. the mother was soon downstairs, and with her reappearance came the departure of the grandmother. and now began once more the same old life as had been initiated nine years previously. the child carried to its the “bold venture” 221 grandmother, who dandled it, crooned and talked to it. then, as it grew, it was supplied with socks and garments knitted and cut out and put together by betty; there ensued the visits of the toddling child, and the remonstrances of the mother. school time arrived, and with it a break in the journey to or from school at granny's house, to partake of bread and jam, hear stories, and, finally, to assist at the making of a new ship. if, with increase of years, betty's powers had begun to fail, there had been no corresponding decrease in energy of will. her eyes were not so clear as of old, nor her hearing so acute, but her hand was not unsteady. she would this time make and rig a schooner and not a cutter. experience had made her more able, and she aspired to accomplish a greater task than she had previously undertaken. it was really remarkable how the old course was resumed almost in every particular. but the new grandson was called jonas, like his father, and old betty loved him, if possible, with a more intense love than had been given to the first child. he closely resembled his father, and to her it was a renewal of her life long ago, when she nursed and cared for the first jonas. and, if possible, jane became more jealous of the aged woman, who was drawing to her so large a portion of her child's affection. the schooner was nearly complete. it was somewhat rude, having been worked with no better tool than a penknife, and its masts being made of knitting-pins. on the day before little jonas's ninth birthday, betty carried the ship to the painter. “mr. elway," said she, “there be one thing i do want your help in. i cannot put the name on the vessel. i can't fashion the letters, and i want you to do it for me." “all right, ma'am. what name?" “well, now," said she, “my husband, the father of jonas, and the grandfather of the little jonas, he always sailed in a schooner, and the ship was the bold venture.” 222 a book of ghosts “the bonaventura, i think. i remember her." “ i'm sure she was the bold venture." “i think not, mrs. rea.” “it must have been the bold venture or bold adventurer. what sense is there in such a name as boneventure? i never heard of no such venture, unless it were that of jack smithson, who jumped out of a garret window, and sure enough he broke a bone of his leg. no, mr. elway, i'll have her entitled the bold venture." “i'll not gainsay you. bold venture she shall be.” then the painter very dexterously and daintily put the name in black paint on the white strip at the stern. “will it be dry by to-morrow?" asked the old woman. “that's the little lad's birthday, and i promised to have his schooner ready for him to sail her then.” " i've put dryers in the paint," answered mr. elway, "and you may reckon it will be right for to-morrow.” that night betty was unable to sleep, so eager was she for the day when the little boy would attain his ninth year and become the possessor of the beautiful ship she had fashioned for him with her own hands, and on which, in fact, she had been engaged for more than a twelvemonth. nor was she able to eat her simple breakfast and noonday meal, so thrilled was her old heart with love for the child and expectation of his delight when the bold venture was made over to him as his own, she heard his little feet on the cobblestones of the alley: he came on, dancing, jumping, fidgeted at the lock, threw the door open and burst in with a shout“see! see, granny! my new ship! mother has give it me, a real frigate—with three masts, all red and green, and cost her seven shillings at camelot fair yesterday.” he bore aloft a very magnificent toy ship. it had pennants at the mast-top and a flag at stern. “granny! look ! look! ain't she a beauty? now i shan't want your drashy old schooner when i have my grand new frigate." the “ bold venture”. 223 “won't you have your ship—the bold venture ?" “no, granny; chuck it away. it's a shabby bit o' rubbish, mother says; and see! there's a brass cannon, a real cannon that will go off with a bang, on my frigate. ain't it a beauty?" “oh, jonas ! look at the bold venture." “no, granny, i can't stay. i want to be off and swim my beautiful seven-shilling ship.” then he dashed away as boisterous as he had dashed in, and forgot to shut the door. it was evening when the elder jonas returned home, and he was welcomed by his son with exclamations of delight, and was shown the new ship. "but, daddy, her won't sail ; over her will flop in the water." “there is no lead on the keel,” remarked the father. “the vessel is built for show only." then he walked away to his mother's cottage. he was vexed. he knew that his wife had bought the toy with the deliberate intent of disappointing and wounding her mother-in-law; and he was afraid that he would find the old lady deeply mortified and incensed. as he entered the dingy lane, he noticed that her door was partly open. the aged woman was on the seat by the table at the window, lying forward clasping the ship, and the two masts were run through her white hair; her head rested, partly on the new ship and partly on the table. “mother!” said he. “mother!”. there was no answer. the feeble old heart had given way under the blow, and had ceased to beat. i was accustomed, a few summers past, to spend a couple of months at portstephen. jonas rea took me often in his boat, either mackerel fishing, or on excursions to the islets off the coast, in quest of wild birds. we 224 a book of ghosts became familiar, and i would now and then spend an evening with him in his cottage, and talk about the sea, and the chances of a harbour of refuge being made at portstephen, and sometimes we spoke of our own family affairs. thus it was that, little by little, the story of the ship bold venture was told me. mrs. jane was no more in the house. "it's a curious thing,” said jonas rea, “but the first ship my mother made was no sooner done than my boy peter died, and when she made another, with two masts, as soon as ever it was finished she died herself, and shortly after my wife, jane, who took a chill at mother's funeral. it settled on her chest, and she died in a fortnight." “is that the boat?" i inquired, pointing to a glass case on a cupboard, in which was a rudely executed schooner. “that's her,” replied jonas; "and i'd like you to have a look close at her.” i walked to the cupboard and looked. “do you see anything particular ?" asked the fisherman. “i can't say that i do." “look at her masthead. what is there?" after a pause i said: “there is a grey hair, that is all, like a pennant." “i mean that,” said jonas. “i can't say whether my old mother put a hair from her white head there for the purpose, or whether it caught and fixed itself when she fell forward clasping the boat, and the masts and spars and shrouds were all tangled in her hair. anyhow, there it be, and that's one reason why i've had the bold venture put in a glass case—that the white hair may never by no chance get brushed away from it. now, look again. do you see nothing more ?" “can't say i do." “look at the bows." i did so. presently i remarked :“i see nothing except, perhaps, some bruises, and a little bit of red paint." the “bold venture” 225 “ah! that's it, and where did the red paint come from?" i was, of course, quite unable to suggest an explanation. presently, after mr. rea had waited—as if to draw from me the answer he expected—he said: “well, no, i reckon you can't tell. it was thus. when mother died, i brought the bold venture here and set her where she is now, on the cupboard, and jonas, he had set the new ship, all red and green, the saucy jane it was called, on the bureau. will you believe me, next morning when i came downstairs the frigate was on the floor, and some of her spars broken and all the rigging in a muddle.” “there was no lead on the bottom. it fell down.” " it was not once that happened. it came to the same thing every night; and what is more, the bold venture began to show signs of having fouled her.” “how so?” “run against her. she had bruises, and had brought away some of the paint of the saucy jane. every morning the frigate, if she were'nt on the floor, were rammed into a corner, and battered as if she'd been in a bad sea." “but it is impossible.” “of course, lots o' things is impossible, but they happen all the same.” "well, what next?” “ jane, she was ill, and took wus and wus, and just as she got wus so it took wus as well with the saucy jane. and on the night she died, i reckon that there was a reg'lar pitched sea-fight.” “but not at sea.” “well, no; but the frigate seemed to have been rammed, and she was on the floor and split from stem to stern." "and, pray, has the bold venture made no attempt since? the glass case is not broken." “there's been no occasion. i chucked what remained of the saucy jane into the fire." mustapha among the many hangers-on at the hotel de l'europe a at luxor-donkey-boys, porters, guides, antiquity dealers—was one, a young man named mustapha, who proved a general favourite. i spent three winters at luxor, partly for my health, partly for pleasure, mainly to make artistic studies, as i am by profession a painter. so i came to know mustapha fairly well in three stages, during those three winters. when first i made his acquaintance he was in the transition condition from boyhood to manhood. he had an intelligent face, with bright eyes, a skin soft as brown silk, with a velvety hue on it. his features were regular, and if his face was a little too round to quite satisfy an english artistic eye, yet this was a peculiarity to which one soon became accustomed. he was unflaggingly good-natured and obliging. a mongrel, no doubt, he was; arab and native egyptian blood were mingled in his veins. but the result was happy; he combined the patience and gentleness of the child of mizraim with the energy and pluck of the son of the desert. mustapha had been a donkey-boy, but had risen a stage higher, and looked, as the object of his supreme ambition, to become some day a dragoman, and blaze like one of these gilded beetles in lace and chains, rings and weapons. to become a dragoman-one of the most obsequious of 226 mustapha 227 men till engaged, one of the veriest tyrants when engaged -to what higher could an egyptian boy aspire ? to become a dragoman means to go in broadcloth and with gold chains when his fellows are half naked; to lounge and twist the moustache when his kinsfolk are toiling under the water-buckets; to be able to extort backsheesh from all the tradesmen to whom he can introduce a master; to do nothing himself and make others work for him ; to be able to look to purchase two, three, even four wives when his father contented himself with one; to soar out of the region of native virtues into that of foreign vices; to be superior to all instilled prejudices against spirits and wine—that is the ideal set before young egypt through contact with the english and the american tourist. we all liked mustapha. no one had a bad word to say of him. some pious individuals rejoiced to see that he had broken with the koran, as if this were a first step towards taking up with the bible. a free-thinking professor was glad to find that mustapha had emancipated himself from some of those shackles which religion places on august, divine humanity, and that by getting drunk he gave pledge that he had risen into a sphere of pure emancipation, which eventuates in ideal perfection. as i made my studies i engaged mustapha to carry my easel and canvas, or camp-stool. i was glad to have him as a study, to make him stand by a wall or sit on a pillar that was prostrate, as artistic exigencies required. he was always ready to accompany me. there was an understanding between us that when a drove of tourists came to luxor he might leave me for the day to pick up what he could then from the natural prey ; but i found him not always keen to be off duty to me. though he could get more from the occasional visitor than from me, he was above the ravenous appetite for backsheesh which consumed his fellows. he who has much to do with the native egyptian will 228 a book of ghosts have discovered that there are in him a fund of kindliness and a treasure of good qualities. he is delighted to be treated with humanity, pleased to be noticed, and ready to repay attention with touching gratitude. he is by no means as rapacious for backsheesh as the passing traveller supposes; he is shrewd to distinguish between man and man; likes this one, and will do anything for him unrewarded, and will do naught for another for any bribe. the egyptian is now in a transitional state. if it be quite true that the touch of england is restoring life to his crippled limbs, and the voice of england bidding him rise up and walk, there are occasions on which association with englishmen is a disadvantage to him. such an instance is that of poor, good mustapha. it was not my place to caution mustapha against the pernicious influences to which he was subjected, and, to speak plainly, i did not know what line to adopt, on what ground to take my stand, if i did. he was breaking with the old life, and taking up with what was new, retaining of the old only what was bad in it, and acquiring of the new none of its good parts. civilisation european civilisation-is excellent, but cannot be swallowed at a gulp, nor does it wholly suit the oriental digestion. that which impelled mustapha still further in his course was the attitude assumed towards him by his own relatives and the natives of his own village. they were strict moslems, and they regarded him as one on the highway to becoming a renegade. they treated him with mistrust, showed him aversion, and loaded him with reproaches. mustapha had a high spirit, and he resented rebuke. let his fellows grumble and objurgate, said he; they would cringe to him when he became a dragoman, with his pockets stuffed with piastres. there was in our hotel, the second winter, a young fellow of the name of jameson, a man with plenty of money, superficial good nature, little intellect, very conmustapha 229 ceited and egotistic, and this fellow was mustapha's evil genius. it was jameson's delight to encourage mustapha in drinking and gambling. time hung heavy on his hands. he cared nothing for hieroglyphics, scenery bored him, antiquities, art, had no charm for him. natural history presented to him no attraction, and the only amusement level with his mental faculties was that of hoaxing natives, or breaking down their religious prejudices. matters were in this condition as regarded mustapha, when an incident occurred during my second winter at luxor that completely altered the tenor of mustapha's life. one night a fire broke out in the nearest village. it originated in a mud hovel belonging to a fellah ; his wife had spilled some oil on the hearth, and the flames leaping up had caught the low thatch, which immediately burst into a blaze. a wind was blowing from the direction of the arabian desert, and it carried the flames and ignited the thatch before it on other roofs; the conflagration spread, and the whole village was menaced with destruction. the greatest excitement and alarm prevailed. the inhabitants lost their heads. men ran about rescuing from their hovels their only treasures-old sardine tins and empty marmalade pots; women wailed, children sobbed; no one made any attempt to stay the fire; and, above all, were heard the screams of the woman whose incaution had caused the mischief, and who was being beaten unmercifully by her husband. the few english in the hotel came on the scene, and with their instinctive energy and system set to work to organise a corps and subdue the flames. the women and girls who were rescued from the menaced hovels, or plucked out of those already on fire, were in many cases unveiled, and so it came to pass that mustapha, who, under english direction, was ablest and most vigorous in his efforts to 230 a book of ghosts stop the conflagration, met his fate in the shape of the daughter of ibraim the farrier. by the light of the flames he saw her, and at once resolved to make that fair girl his wife. no reasonable obstacle intervened, so thought mustapha. he had amassed a sufficient sum to entitle him to buy a wife and set up a household of his own. a house consists of four mud walls and a low thatch, and housekeeping in an egyptian house is as elementary and economical as the domestic architecture. the maintenance of a wife and family is not costly after the first outlay, which consists in indemnifying the father for the expense to which he has been put in rearing a daughter. the ceremony of courting is also elementary, and the addresses of the suitor are not paid to the bride, but to her father, and not in person by the candidate, but by an intermediary. mustapha negotiated with a friend, a fellow hanger-on at the hotel, to open proceedings with the farrier. he was to represent to the worthy man that the suitor entertained the most ardent admiration for the virtues of ibraim personally, that he was inspired with but one ambition, which was alliance with so distinguished a family as his. he was to assure the father of the damsel that mustapha undertook to proclaim through upper and lower egypt, in the ears of egyptians, arabs, and europeans, that ibraim was the most remarkable man that ever existed for solidity of judgment, excellence of parts, uprightness of dealing, nobility of sentiment, strictness in observance of the precepts of the koran, and that finally mustapha was anxious to indemnify this same paragon of genius and virtue for his condescension in having cared to breed and clothe and feed for several years a certain girl, his daughter, if mustapha might have that daughter as his wife. not that he cared for the daughter in herself, but as a means whereby he might mustapha 231 have the honour of entering into alliance with one so distinguished and so esteemed of allah as ibraim the farrier. to the infinite surprise of the intermediary, and to the no less surprise and mortification of the suitor, mustapha was refused. he was a bad moslem. ibraim would have no alliance with one who had turned his back on the prophet and drunk bottled beer. till this moment mustapha had not realised how great was the alienation between his fellows and himself-what a barrier he had set up between himself and the men of his own blood. the refusal of his suit struck the young man to the quick. he had known and played with the farrier's daughter in childhood, till she had come of age to veil her face; now that he had seen her in her ripe charms, his heart was deeply stirred and engaged. he entered into himself, and going to the mosque he there made a solemn vow that if he ever touched wine, ale, or spirits again he would cut his throat, and he sent word to ibraim that he had done so, and begged that he would not dispose of his daughter and finally reject him till he had seen how that he who had turned in thought and manner of life from the prophet would return with firm resolution to the right way. from this time mustapha changed his conduct. he was obliging and attentive as before, ready to exert himself to do for me what i wanted, ready also to extort money from the ordinary tourist for doing nothing, to go with me and carry my tools when i went forth painting, and to joke and laugh with jameson ; but, unless he were unavoidably detained, he said his prayers five times daily in the mosque, and no inducement whatever would make him touch anything save sherbet, milk, or water. mustapha had no easy time of it. the strict mohammedans mistrusted this sudden conversion, and believed that sherbelent who's five 232 a book of ghosts he was playing a part. ibraim gave him no encouragement. his relatives maintained their reserve and stiffness towards him. his companions, moreover, who were in the transitional stage, and those who had completely shaken off all faith in allah and trust in the prophet and respect for the koran, were incensed at his desertion. he was ridiculed, insulted ; he was waylaid and beaten. the young fellows mimicked him, the elder scoffed at him. jameson took his change to heart, and laid himself out to bring him out of his pot of scruples. "mustapha ain't any sport at all now," said he. “ i'm hanged if he has another para from me.” he offered him bribes in gold, he united with the others in ridicule, he turned his back on him, and refused to employ him. nothing availed. mustapha was respectful, courteous, obliging as before, but he had returned, he said, to the faith and rule of life in which he had been brought up, and he would never again leave it. "i have sworn," said he, “that if i do i will cut my throat.” i had been, perhaps, negligent in cautioning the young fellow the first winter that i knew him against the harm likely to be done him by taking up with european habits contrary to his law and the feelings and prejudices of his people. now, however, i had no hesitation in expressing to him the satisfaction i felt at the courageous and determined manner in which he had broken with acquired habits that could do him no good. for one thing, we were now better acquaintances, and i felt that as one who had known him for more than a few months in the winter, i had a good right to speak. and, again, it is always easier or pleasanter to praise than to reprimand. one day when sketching i cut my pencil with a pruningknife i happened to have in my pocket; my proper knife of many blades had been left behind by misadventure. mustapha 233 mustapha noticed the knife and admired it, and asked if it had cost a great sum. “not at all," i answered. “i did not even buy it. it was given me. i ordered some flower seeds from a seedsman, and when he sent me the consignment he included this knife in the case as a present. it is not worth more than a shilling in england.” he turned it about, with looks of admiration. "it is just the sort that would suit me,” he said. “i know your other knife with many blades. it is very fine, but it is too small. i do not want it to cut pencils. it has other things in it, a hook for taking stones from a horse's hoof, a pair of tweezers for removing hairs. i do not want such, but a knife such as this, with such a curve, is just the thing." “then you shall have it," said i. “you are welcome. it was for rough work only that i brought the knife to egypt with me.” i finished a painting that winter that gave me real satisfaction. it was of the great court of the temple of luxor by evening light, with the last red glare of the sun over the distant desert hills, and the eastern sky above of a purple depth. what colours i used! the intensest on my palette, and yet fell short of the effect. the picture was in the academy, was well hung, abomi. . nably represented in one of the illustrated guides to the galleries, as a blotch, by some sort of photographic process on gelatine; my picture sold, which concerned me most of all, and not only did it sell at a respectable figure, but it also brought me two or three orders for egyptian pictures. so many english and americans go up the nile, and carry away with them pleasant reminiscences of the land of the pharaohs, that when in england they are fain to buy pictures which shall remind them of scenes in that land. i returned to my hotel at luxor in november, to spend 234 a book of ghosts there a third winter. the fellaheen about there saluted me as a friend with an affectionate delight, which i am quite certain was not assumed, as they got nothing out of me save kindly salutations. i had the egyptian fever on me, which, when once acquired, is not to be shaken offan enthusiasm for everything egyptian, the antiquities, the history of the pharaohs, the very desert, the brown nile, the desolate hill ranges, the ever blue sky, the marvellous colorations at rise and set of sun, and last, but not least, the prosperity of the poor peasants. i am quite certain that the very warmest welcome accorded to me was from mustapha, and almost the first words he said to me on my meeting him again were: "i have been very good. i say my prayers. i drink no wine, and ibraim will give me his daughter in the second iomada—what you call january.” “not before, mustapha ?" "no, sir ; he says i must be tried for one whole year, and he is right.” “then soon after christmas you will be happy!”. "i have got a house and made it ready. yes. after christmas there will be one very happy man-one very, very happy man in egypt, and that will be your humble servant, mustapha.” iii we were a pleasant party at luxor, this third winter, not numerous, but for the most part of congenial tastes. for the most part we were keen on hieroglyphics, we admired queen hatasou and we hated rameses ii. we could distinguish the artistic work of one dynasty from that of another. we were learned on cartouches, and flourished our knowledge before the tourists dropping in. one of those staying in the hotel was an oxford don, very good company, interested in everything, and able to mustapha 235 talk well on everything—i mean everything more or less remotely connected with egypt. another was a young fellow who had been an attaché at berlin, but was out of health--nothing organic the matter with his lungs, but they were weak. he was keen on the political situation, and very anti-gallican, as every man who has been in egypt naturally is, who is not a frenchman. there was also staying in the hotel an american lady, fresh and delightful, whose mind and conversation twinkled like frost crystals in the sun, a woman full of good-humour, of the most generous sympathies, and so droll that she kept us ever amused. and, alas ! jameson was back again, not entering into any of our pursuits, not understanding our little jokes, not at all content to be there. he grumbled at the foodand, indeed, that might have been better; at the monotony of the life at luxor, at his london doctor for putting the veto on cairo because of its drainage, or rather the absence of all drainage. i really think we did our utmost to draw jameson into our circle, to amuse him, to interest him in something ; but one by one we gave him up, and the last to do this was the little american lady. from the outset he had attacked mustapha, and endeavoured to persuade him to shake off his “squeamish nonsense,” as jameson called his resolve. “i'll tell you what it is, old fellow," he said, “life isn't worth living without good liquor, and as for that blessed prophet of yours, he showed he was a fool when he put a bar on drinks.” but as mustapha was not pliable he gave him up. “he's become just as great a bore as that old rameses,” said he. “ i'm sick of the whole concern, and i don't think anything of fresh dates, that you fellows make such a fuss about. as for that stupid old nile—there ain't a fish worth eating comes out of it. and those old egyptains were arrant humbugs. i haven't seen a lotus since i came here, and they made such a fuss about them too." 236 a book of ghosts the little american lady was not weary of asking questions relative to english home life, and especially to country-house living and amusements. "oh, my dear!” said she, “i would give my ears to spend a christmas in the fine old fashion in a good ancient manor house in the country.” “there is nothing remarkable in that,” said an english lady. "not to you, maybe; but there would be to us. what we read of and make pictures of in our fancies, that is what you live. your facts are our fairy tales. look at your hunting." “that, if you like, is fun," threw in jameson. “but i don't myself think anything save luxor can be a bigger bore than country-house life at christmas time—when all the boys are back from school." “with us," said the little american, “our sportsmen dress in pink like yours the whole thing—and canter after a bag of anise seed that is trailed before them.” "why do they not import foxes ?”. “because a fox would not keep to the road. our farmers object pretty freely to trespass; so the hunting must of necessity be done on the highway, and the game is but a bag of anise seed. i would like to see an english meet and a run." this subject was thrashed out after having been prolonged unduly for the sake of jameson. "oh, dear me!” said the yankee lady. “if but that chef could be persuaded to give us plum-puddings for christmas, i would try to think i was in england.” "plum-pudding is exploded,” said jameson. “only children ask for it now. a good trifle or a tipsy-cake is much more to my taste; but this hanged cook here can give us nothing but his blooming custard pudding and burnt sugar.” “i do not think it would be wise to let him attempt a mustapha 237 plum-pudding,” said the english lady. “but if we can persuade him to permit me i will mix and make the pudding, and then he cannot go far wrong in the boiling and dishing up." "that is the only thing wanting to make me perfectly happy," said the american. “i'll confront monsieur. i am sure i can talk him into a good humour, and we shall have our plum-pudding." no one has yet been found, i do believe, who could resist that little woman. she carried everything before her. the cook placed himself and all his culinary apparatus at her feet. we took part in the stoning of the raisins, and the washing of the currants, even the chopping of the suet; we stirred the pudding, threw in sixpence apiece, and a ring, and then it was tied up in a cloth, and set aside to be boiled. christmas day came, and the english chaplain preached us a practical sermon on “goodwill towards men.” that was his, text, and his sermon was but a swelling out of the words just as rice is swelled to thrice its size by boiling. we dined. there was an attempt at roast beef-it was more like baked leather. the event of the dinner was to be the bringing in and eating of the plum-pudding. surely all would be perfect. we could answer for the materials and the mixing. the english lady could guarantee the boiling. she had seen the plum-pudding "on the boil," and had given strict injunctions as to the length of time during which it was to boil. but, alas ! the pudding was not right when brought on the table. it was not enveloped in lambent blue flameit was not crackling in the burning brandy. it was sent in dry, and the brandy arrived separate in a white sauceboat, hot indeed, and sugared, but not on fire. there ensued outcries of disappointment. attempts were made to redress the mistake by setting fire to the brandy in a spoon, but the spoon was cold. the flame 238 a book of ghosts would not catch, and finally, with a sigh, we had to take our plum-pudding as served. “i say, chaplain!” exclaimed jameson, “practice is better than precept, is it not?”. “to be sure it is." "you gave us a deuced good sermon. it was short, as it ought to be; but i'll go better on it, i'll practise where you preached, and have larks, too!”. then jameson started from table with a plate of plumpudding in one hand and the sauce-boat in the other. “ by jove!” he said, “i'll teach these fellows to open their eyes. i'll show them that we know how to feed. we can't turn out scarabs and cartouches in england, that are no good to anyone, but we can produce the finest roast beef in the world, and do a thing or two in puddings.” and he left the room. we paid no heed to anything jameson said or did. we were rather relieved that he was out of the room, and did not concern ourselves about the “larks" he promised himself, and which we were quite certain would be as insipid as were the quails of the israelites. in ten minutes he was back, laughing and red in the face. " i've had splitting fun," he said. “you should have been there." “where, jameson ?” “why, outside. there were a lot of old moolahs and other hoky-pokies sitting and contemplating the setting sun and all that sort of thing, and i gave mustapha the pudding. i told him i wished him to try our great national english dish, on which her majesty the queen dines daily. well, he ate and enjoyed it, by george. then i said, 'old fellow, it's uncommonly dry, so you must take the sauce to it.' he asked if it was only sauce-flour and water. it's sauce, by jove,' said i, 'a little sugar to it; no bar on the sugar, musty. so i put the boat to his lips and gave him mustapha 239 a pull. by george, you should have seen his face! it was just thundering fun. 'i've done you at last, old musty,' i said. “it is best cognac.' he gave me such a look! he'd have eaten me, i believe—and he walked away. it was just splitting fun. i wish you had been there to see me, i believe he gave me , old musty, i went out after dinner, to take my usual stroll along the river-bank, and to watch the evening lights die away on the columns and obelisk. on my return i saw at once that something had happened which had produced commotion among the servants of the hotel. i had reached the salon before i inquired what was the matter. the boy who was taking the coffee round said : “mustapha is dead. he cut his throat at the door of the mosque. he could not help himself. he had broken his vow." i looked at jameson without a word. indeed, i could not speak; i was choking. the little american lady was trembling, the english lady crying. the gentlemen stood silent in the windows, not speaking a word. jameson's colour changed. he was honestly distressed, uneasy, and tried to cover his confusion with bravado and a jest “ after all,” he said, “it is only a nigger the less.” “nigger !” said the american lady. “he was no nigger, but an egyptian.” “oh! i don't pretend to distinguish between your blacks and whity-browns any more than i do between your cartouches," returned jameson. "he was no black," said the american lady, standing up. “but i do mean to say that i consider you an utterly unredeemed black". “my dear, don't,” said the englishwoman, drawing the other down. “it's no good. the thing is done. he meant no harm.” 240 a book of ghosts iv i could not sleep. my blood was in a boil. i felt that i could not speak to jameson again. he would have to leave luxor. that was tacitly understood among us. coventry was the place to which he would be consigned. i tried to finish in a little sketch i had made in my notebook when i was in my room, but my hand shook, and i was constrained to lay my pencil aside. then i took up an egyptian grammar, but could not fix my mind on study. the hotel was very still. everyone had gone to bed at an early hour that night, disinclined for conversation. no one was moving. there was a lamp in the passage; it was partly turned down. jameson's room was next to mine. i heard him stir as he undressed, and talk to himself. then he was quiet. i wound up my watch, and emptying my pocket, put my purse under the pillow. i was not in the least heavy with sleep. if i did go to bed i should not be able to close my eyes. but then --if i sat up i could do nothing. i was about leisurely to undress, when i heard a sharp cry, or exclamation of mingled pain and alarm, from the adjoining room. in another moment there was a rap at my door. i opened, and jameson came in. he was in his nightshirt, and looking agitated and frightened. "look here, old fellow," said he in a shaking voice, “there is musty in my room. he has been hiding there, and just as i dropped asleep he ran that knife of yours into my throat.” “my knife ?" “yes—that pruning-knife you gave him, you know. look here-i must have the place sewn up. do go for a doctor, there's a good chap," “where is the place ?" "here on my right gill.” mustapha 241 jameson turned his head to the left, and i raised the lamp. there was no wound of any sort there. i told him so. “oh, yes! that's fine-i tell you i felt his knife go in." “nonsense, you were dreaming." “ dreaming! not i. i saw musty as distinctly as i now see you." “this is a delusion, jameson," i replied. “the poor fellow is dead.” "oh, that's very fine,” said jameson. “ it is not the first of april, and i don't believe the yarns that you've been spinning. you tried to make believe he was dead, but i know he is not. he has got into my room, and he made a dig at my throat with your pruning-knife.” " i'll go into your room with you." “do so. but he's gone by this time. trust him to cut and run." i followed jameson, and looked about. there was no trace of anyone beside himself having been in the room. moreover, there was no place but the nut-wood wardrobe in the bedroom in which anyone could have secreted himself. i opened this and showed that it was empty. after a while i pacified jameson, and induced him to go to bed again, and then i left his room. i did not now attempt to court sleep. i wrote letters with a hand not the steadiest, and did my accounts. as the hour approached midnight i was again startled by a cry from the adjoining room, and in another moment jameson was at my door. “that blooming fellow musty is in my room still,” said he. “he has been at my throat again." “nonsense,” i said. “you are labouring under hallucinations. you locked your door." “oh, by jove, yes—of course i did ; but, hang it, in this hole, neither doors nor windows fit, and the locks are no good, and the bolts nowhere. he got in again somehow, --242 a book of ghosts and if i had not started up the moment i felt the knife, he'd have done for me. he would, by george. i wish i had a revolver.” i went into jameson's room. again he insisted on my looking at his throat. " it's very good of you to say there is no wound,” said he. “but you won't gull me with words. i felt his knife in my windpipe, and if i had not jumped out of bed” “you locked your door. no one could enter. look in the glass, there is not even a scratch. this is pure imagination." "i'll tell you what, old fellow, i won't sleep in that room again. change with me, there's a charitable buffer. if you don't believe in musty, musty won't hurt you, maybe -anyhow you can try if he's solid or a phantom. blow me if the knife felt like a phantom.” "i do not quite see my way to changing rooms," i replied ; “but this i will do for you. if you like to go to bed again in your own apartment, i will sit up with you till morning." "all right," answered jameson. “and if musty comes in again, let out at him and do not spare him. swear that.” i accompanied jameson once more to his bedroom, little as i liked the man, i could not deny him my presence and assistance at this time. it was obvious that his nerves were shaken by what had occurred, and he felt his relation to mustapha much more than he cared to show. the thought that he had been the cause of the poor fellow's death preyed on his mind, never strong, and now it was upset with imaginary terrors. i gave up letter writing, and brought my baedeker's upper egypt into jameson's room, one of the best of all guide-books, and one crammed with information. i seated myself near the light, and with my back to the bed, on which the young man had once more flung himself. mustapha 243 " i say," said jameson, raising his head, “is it too late for a brandy-and-soda ?” “everyone is in bed.” “what lazy dogs they are. one never can get anything one wants here." “well, try to go to sleep." he tossed from side to side for some time, but after a while, either he was quiet, or i was engrossed in my baedeker, and i heard nothing till a clock struck twelve. at the last stroke i heard a snort and then a gasp and a cry from the bed. i started up, and looked round. jameson was slipping out with his feet onto the floor. "confound you!” said he angrily, "you are a fine watch, you are, to let mustapha steal in on tiptoe whilst you are cartouching and all that sort of rubbish. he was at me again, and if i had not been sharp he'd have cut my throat. i won't go to bed any more!" “well, sit up. but i assure you no one has been here." “that's fine. how can you tell ? you had your back to me, and these devils of fellows steal about like cats. you can't hear them till they are at you.” it was of no use arguing with jameson, so i let him have his way. “i can feel all the three places in my throat where he ran the knife in," said he. “and-don't you notice ? i speak with difficulty.” so we sat up together the rest of the night. he became more reasonable as dawn came on, and inclined to admit that he had been a prey to fancies. the day passed very much as did others— jameson was dull and sulky. after déjeuner he sat on at table when the ladies had risen and retired, and the gentlemen had formed in knots at the window, discussing what was to be done in the afternoon. suddenly jameson, whose head had begun to nod, started up with an oath and threw down his chair. 244 a book of ghosts “you fellows !” he said, “ you are all in league against me. you let that mustapha come in without a word, and try to stick his knife into me.” “he has not been here." “it's a plant. you are combined to bully me and drive me away. you don't like me. you have engaged mustapha to murder me. this is the fourth time he has tried to cut my throat, and in the salle à manger, too, with you all standing round. you ought to be ashamed to call yourselves englishmen. i'll go to cairo. i'll complain.” it really seemed that the feeble brain of jameson was affected. the oxford don undertook to sit up in the room the following night. the young man was fagged and sleep-weary, but no sooner did his eyes close, and clouds form about his head, than he was brought to wakefulness again by the same fancy or dream. the oxford don had more trouble with him on the second night than i had on the first, for his lapses into sleep were more frequent, and each such lapse was succeeded by a start and a panic. the next day he was worse, and we felt that he could no longer be left alone. the third night the attaché sat up to watch him. jameson had now sunk into a sullen mood. he would not speak, except to himself, and then only to grumble. during the night, without being aware of it, the young attaché, who had taken a couple of magazines with him to read, fell asleep. when he went off he did not know, he woke just before dawn, and in a spasm of terror and self-reproach saw that jameson's chair was empty. jameson was not on his bed. he could not be found in the hotel. at dawn he was found dead, at the door of the mosque, with his throat cut. "you let that mustapha come in, and try and stick his knife into me' little joe gander “there's no good in him," said his stepmother, “not i a mossul !” with these words she thrust little joe forward by applying her knee to the small of his back, and thereby jerking him into the middle of the school before the master. “there's no making nothing out of him, whack him as you will.” little joe lambole was a child of ten, dressed in secondhand, nay, third-hand garments that did not fit. his coat had been a soldier's scarlet uniform, that had gone when discarded to a dealer, who had dealt it to a carter, and when the carter had worn it out it was reduced and adapted to the wear of the child. the nether garments had, in like manner, served a full-grown man till worn out; then they had been cut down at the knees. though shortened in leg, they maintained their former copiousness of seat, and served as an inexhaustible receptacle for dust. often as little joe was “licked" there issued from the dense mass of drapery clouds of dust. it was like beating a puff-ball. “only a seven-month child,” said mrs. lambole contemptuously, " born without his nails on fingers and toes; they growed later. his wits have never come right, and a deal, a deal of larruping it will take to make 'em grow. use the rod; we won't grumble at you for doing so.” little joe lambole when he came into the world had not been expected to live. he was a poor, small, miserable baby, that could not roar, but whimpered. he had been privately baptised directly he was born, because, at the first, mrs. lambole said, “ the child is mine, though 245 246 a book of ghosts it be such a creetur, and i wouldn't like it, according, to be buried like a dog." he was called joseph. the scriptural joseph had been sold as a bondman into egypt; this little joseph seemed to have been brought into the world to be a slave. in all propriety he ought to have died as a baby, and that happy consummation was almost desired, but he disappointed expectations and lived. his mother died soon after, and his father married again, and his father and stepmother loved him, doubtless; but love is manifested in many ways, and the lamboles showed theirs in a rough way, by slaps and blows and kicks. the father was ashamed of him because he was a weakling, and the stepmother because he was ugly, and was not her own child. he was a meagre little fellow, with a long neck and a white face and sunken cheeks, a pigeon breast, and a big stomach. he walked with his head forward and his great pale blue eyes staring before him into the far distance, as if he were always looking out of the world. his walk was a waddle, and he tumbled over every obstacle, because he never looked where he was going, always looked to something beyond the horizon. because of his walk and his long neck, and staring eyes and big stomach, the village children called him “gander joe” or “ joe gander"; and his parents were not sorry, for they were ashamed that such a creature should be known as a lambole. the lamboles were a sturdy, hearty people, with cheeks like quarrender apples, and bones set firm and knit with iron sinews. they were a hard-working, practical people who fattened pigs and kept poultry at home. lambole was a roadmaker. in breaking stones one day a bit of one had struck his eye and blinded it. after that he wore a black patch upon it. he saw well enough out of the other; he never missed seeing his own interests. lambole could have made a few pence with his son had his son little joe gander 247 been worth anything. he could have sent him to scrape the road, and bring the manure off it in a shovel to his garden. but joe never took heartily to scraping the dung up. in a word, the boy was good for nothing. he had hair like tow, and a little straw hat on his head with the top torn, so that the hair forced its way out, and as he walked the top bobbed about like the lid of a boiling saucepan. when the whortleberries were ripe in june, mrs. lambole sent joe out with other children to collect the berries in a tin can; she sold them for fourpence a quart, and any child could earn eightpence a day in whortleberry time; one that was active might earn a shilling. but joe would not remain with the other children. they teased him, imitated ganders and geese, and poked out their necks and uttered sounds in imitation of the voices of these birds. moreover, they stole the berries he had picked, and put them into their own cans. when joe gander left them and found himself alone in the woods, then he lay down among the brown heather and green fern, and looked up through the oak leaves at the sky, and listened to the singing of the birds. oh, wondrous music of the woods! the hum of the summer air among the leaves, the drone of the bees about the flowers, the twittering and fluting and piping of the finches and blackbirds and thrushes, and the cool soft cooing of the wood pigeons, like the lowing of aerial oxen; then the tapping of the green woodpecker and a glimpse of its crimson head, like a carbuncle running up the tree trunk, and the powdering down of old husks of fir cones or of the tender rind of the topmost shoot of a scottish pine; for aloft a red squirrel was barking a beautiful tree out of wantonness and frolic. a rabbit would come forth from the bracken and sit up in the sun, and clean its face with the fore paws and stroke its long ears; then, seeing the soiled red coat, would skip up-little joe lying very still248 a book of ghosts and screw its nose and turn its eyes from side to side, and skip nearer again, till it was quite close to joe gander; and then the boy laughed, and the rabbit was gone with a flash of white tail. happy days! days of listening to mysterious music, of looking into mysteries of sun and foliage, of spiritual intercourse with the great mother-soul of nature. in the evenings, when gander joe came without his can, or with his can empty, he would say to his stepmother : “oh, steppy! it was so nice; everything was singing.” "i'll make you sing in the chorus too!” cried mrs. lambole, and laid a stick across his shoulders. experience had taught her the futility of dusting at a lower level. then gander joe cried and writhed, and promised to be more diligent in picking whortleberries in future. but when he went again into the wood it was again the same. the spell of the wood spirits was on him; he forgot about the berries at fourpence a quart, and lay on his back and listened. and the whole wood whispered and sang to him and consoled him for his beating, and the wind played lullabies among the fir spines and whistled in the grass, and the aspen clashed its myriad tiny cymbals together, producing an orchestra of sound that filled the soul of the dreaming boy with love and delight and unutterable yearning. it fared no better in autumn, when the blackberry season set in. joe went with his can to an old quarry where the brambles sent their runners over the masses of rubble thrown out from the pits, and warmed and ripened their fruit on the hot stones. it was a marvel to see how the blackberries grew in this deserted quarry; how large the fruit swelled, how thick they were-like mulberries. on the road side of the quarry was a belt of pines, and the sun drew out of their bark scents of unsurpassed sweetness. about the blackberries hovered spotted white and yellow and black moths, beautiful as butterflies, little joe gander 249 butterflies did not fail either. the red admiral was there, resting on the bark of the trees, asleep in the sun with wings expanded, or drifting about the clumps of yellow ragwort, doubtful whether to perch or not. here, hidden behind the trees, among the leaves of overgrown rubble, was a one-story cottage of wood and clay, covered with thatch, in which lived roger gale, the postman. roger gale had ten miles to walk every morning, delivering letters, and the same number of miles every evening, for which twenty miles he received the liberal pay of six shillings a week. he had to be at the post office at half-past six in the morning to receive the letters, and at seven in the evening to deliver them. his work took him about six hours. the middle of the day he had to himself. roger gale was an old soldier, and enjoyed a pension. he occupied himself, when at home, as a shoemaker; but the walks took so much out of him, being an old man, that he had not the strength and energy to do much cobbling when at home. therefore he idled a good deal, and he amused his idle hours with a violin. now, when joe gander came to the quarry before the return of the postman from his rounds, he picked blackberries; but no sooner had roger gale unlocked his door, taken down his fiddle, and drawn the bow across the strings, than joe set down the can and listened. and when old roger began to play an air from the daughter of the regiment, then joe crept towards his cottage in little stages of wonderment and hunger to hear more and hear better, much in the same way as now and again in the wood the inquisitive rabbits had approached his red jacket. presently joe was seated on the doorstep, with his ear against the wooden door, and the blackberries and the can, and stepmother's orders and father's stick, and his hard bed and his meagre meals, even the whole world had passed away as a scroll that is rolled up and laid aside, and he lived only in the world of music. 250 a book of ghosts though his great eyes were wide he saw nothing through them; though the rain began to fall, and the north-east wind to blow, he felt nothing: he had but one faculty that was awake, and that was hearing. one day roger came to his door and opened it suddenly, so that the child, leaning against it, fell across his threshold. “whom have we here? what is this? what do you want?" asked the postman. then gander joe stood up, craning his long neck and staring out of his goggle eyes, with his rough flaxen hair standing up in a ruffle above his head and his great stomach protruded, and said nothing. so roger burst out laughing. but he did not kick him off the step; he gave him a bit of bread and a drop of cider, and presently drew from the boy the confession that he had been listening to the fiddle. this was flattering to the postman, and it was the initiation of a friendship between them. but when joe came home with an empty can and said : “oh, steppy, master roger gale did fiddle so beautiful !" the woman said: “fiddle! i'll fiddle your back pretty smartly, you idle vagabond”; and she was a truthful woman who never fell short of her word. to break him of his bad habits—that is, of his dreaminess and uselessness—mrs. lambole took joe to school. at school he had a bad time of it. he could not learn the letters. he was mentally incapable of doing a subtraction sum. he sat on a bench staring at the teacher, and was unable to answer an ordinary question what the lesson was about. the school children tormented him, the monitor scolded, and the master beat. then little joe gander took to absenting himself from school. he was sent off every morning by his stepmother, but instead of going to the school he went to the cottage in the quarry, and listened to the fiddle of roger gale. little joe got hold of an old box, and with a knife he little joe gander 251 cut holes in it; and he fashioned a bridge, and then a handle, and he strung horsehair over the latter, and made a bow, and drew very faint sounds from this improvised violin, that made the postman laugh, but which gave great pleasure to joe. the sound that issued from his instrument was like the humming of flies, but he got distinct notes out of his strings, though the notes were faint. after he had played truant for some time his father heard what he had done, and he beat the boy till he was like a battered apple that had been flung from the tree by a storm upon a road. for a while joe did not venture to the quarry except on saturdays and sundays. he was forbidden by his father to go to church, because the organ and the singing there drove him half crazed. when a beautiful, touching melody was played his eyes became clouded and the tears ran down his cheeks; and when the organ played the “hallelujah chorus," or some grand and stirring march, his eyes flashed, and his little body quivered, and he made such faces that the congregation were disturbed and the parson remonstrated with his mother. the child was clearly imbecile, and unfit to attend divine worship. mr. lambole got an idea into his head, he would bring up joe to be a butcher, and he informed joe that he was going to place him with a gentleman of that profession in town. joe cried. he turned sick at the sight of blood, and the smell of raw meat was abhorrent to him. but joe's likings were of no account with his father, and he took him to the town and placed him with a butcher there. he was invested in a blue smock, and was informed that his duties would consist in taking meat about to the customers. joe was left. it was the first time he had been from home, and he cried himself to sleep the first night, and he cried all the next day when sent around with meat on his shoulder. now on his journey through the streets he had to pass 252 a book of ghosts the window of a toy-shop. in the window were dolls and horses and little carts. for these joe did not care, but there were also some little violins, some high priced, and some very low, and over these joe lingered with loving, covetous eyes. there was one little fiddle to which his heart went out, that cost only three shillings and sixpence, each day, as he passed the shop, he was drawn to it, and stood looking in, and longed daily more ardently than on the previous day for this three-and-sixpenny violin. one day he was so lost in admiration and on the schemes he framed as to how he might eventually become possessed of the instrument, that he was unconscious of some boys stealing the meat out of the sort of trough on his shoulder in which he carried it about. this was the climax of his misdeeds—he had been reprimanded for his blunders, delivering the wrong meat at the customers' doors; for his dilatory ways in going on his errands. the butcher could endure him no more, and sent him home to his father, who thrashed him, as his welcome. but he carried home with him the haunting recollections of that beautiful little red fiddle, with its fine black keys. the bow, he remembered, was strung with white horsehair. joe had now a fixed ambition—something to live for. he would be perfectly happy if he could have that three-shillings-and-sixpenny fiddle. but how were three shillings and sixpence to be earned ? he confided his difficulty to postman roger gale, and roger gale said he would consider the matter. a couple of days after the postman said to joe"gander, they want a lad to sweep the leaves in the drive at the great house. the squire's coachman told me, and i mentioned you. you'll have to do it on saturday, and be paid sixpence." joe's face brightened. he went home and told his stepmother. little joe gander 253 “for once you are going to be useful," said mrs. lambole. “very well, you shall sweep the drive; then fivepence will come to us, and you shall have a penny every week to spend in sweetstuff at the post office." joe tried to reckon how long it would be before he could purchase the fiddle, but the calculation was beyond his powers; so he asked the postman, who assured him it would take him forty weeks—that is, about ten months. little joe was not cast down. what was time with such an end in view ? jacob served fourteen years for rachel, and this was only forty weeks for a fiddle! joe was diligent every saturday sweeping the drive. he was ordered whenever a carriage entered to dive behind the rhododendrons and laurels and disappear. he was of a too ragged and idiotic appearance to show in a gentleman's grounds. once or twice he encountered the squire and stood quaking, with his fingers spread out, his mouth and eyes open, and the broom at his feet. the squire spoke kindly to him, but joe gander was too frightened to reply. “poor fellow," said the squire to the gardener. "i suppose it is a charity to employ him, but i must say i should have preferred someone else with his wits about him. i will see to having him sent to an asylum for idiots in which i have some interest. there's no knowing," said the squire, “no knowing but that with wholesome food, cleanliness, and kindness his feeble mind may be got to understand that two and two make four, which i learn he has not yet mastered." every saturday evening joe gander brought his sixpence home to his stepmother. the woman was not so regular in allowing him his penny out. “your edication costs such a lot of money," she said. "steppy, need i go to school any more?" he never could frame his mouth to call her mother. “of course you must. you haven't passed your standard." 254 a book of ghosts “but i don't think that i ever shall." “then,” said mrs. lambole, “what masses of good food you do eat. you're perfectly insatiable. you cost us more than it would to keep a cow." “oh, steppy, i won't eat so much if i may have my penny!" “very well. eating such a lot does no one good. if you will be content with one slice of bread for breakfast instead of two, and the same for supper, you shall have your penny. if you are so very hungry you can always get a swede or a mangold out of farmer eggins's field. swedes and mangolds are cooling to the blood and sit light on the stomick,” said mrs. lambole. so the compact was made; but it nearly killed joe. his cheeks and chest fell in deeper and deeper, and his stomach protruded more than ever. his legs seemed hardly able to support him, and his great pale blue wandering eyes appeared ready to start out of his head like the horns of a snail. as for his voice, it was thin and toneless, like the notes on his improvised fiddle, on which he played incessantly. "the child will always be a discredit to us,” said lambole. “he don't look like a human child. he don't think and feel like a christian. the shovelfuls of dung he might have brought to cover our garden if he had only given his heart to it!” " i've heard of changelings," said mrs. lambole ; "and with this creetur on our hands i mainly believe the tale. they do say that the pixies steal away the babies of christian folk, and put their own bantlings in their stead. the only way to find out is to heat a poker red-hot and ram it down the throat of the child ; and when you do that the door opens, and in comes the pixy mother and runs off with her own child, and leaves your proper babe behind. that's what we ought to ha' done wi' joe." “i doubt, wife, the law wouldn't have upheld us,” said little joe gander 255 lambole, thrusting hot coals back on to the hearth with his foot. "i don't suppose it would,” said mrs. lambole. “and yet we call this a land of liberty! law ain't made for the poor, but for the rich." "it is wickedness," argued the father. “it is just the same with colts—all wickedness. you must drive it out with the stick.” and now a great temptation fell on little gander joe. the squire and his family were at home, and the daughter of the house, miss amory, was musical. her mother played on the piano and the young lady on the violin. the fashion for ladies to play on this instrument had come in, and miss amory had taken lessons from the best masters in town. she played vastly better than poor roger gale, and she played to an accompaniment. sometimes whilst joe was sweeping he heard the music; then he stole nearer and nearer to the house, hiding behind rhododendron bushes, and listening with eyes and mouth and nostrils and ears. the music exercised on him an irresistible attraction. he forgot his obligation to work ; he forgot the strict orders he had received not to approach the garden-front of the house. the music acted on him like a spell. occasionally he was roused from his dream by the gardener, who boxed his ears, knocked him over, and bade him get back to his sweeping. once a servant came out from miss amory to tell the ragged little boy not to stand in front of the drawing-room window staring in. on another occasion he was found by miss amory crouched behind a rose bush outside her boudoir, listening whilst she practised. no one supposed that the music drew him. they thought him a fool, and that he had the inquisitiveness of the half-witted to peer in at windows and see the pretty sights within. he was reprimanded, and threatened with dismissal. 256 a book of ghosts the gardener complained to the lad's father and advised a good hiding, such as joe should not forget. "these sort of chaps," said the gardener, “have no senses like rational beings, except only the feeling, and you must teach them as you feed the polar bears—with the end of a stick.” one day miss amory, seeing how thin and hollow-eyed the child was, and hearing him cough, brought him out a cup of hot coffee and some bread. he took it without a word, only pulling off his torn straw hat and throwing it at his feet, exposing the full shock of tow-like hair ; then he stared at her out of his great eyes, speechless. “ joe,” she said, “poor little man, how old are you?” “dunʼnow," he answered.. “can you read and write ? " “no." “nor do sums?" “no." “what can you do?”. “fiddle." “have you got a fiddle? ” “ yes." “i should like to see it, and hear you play.” next day was sunday. little joe forgot about the day, and forgot that miss amory would probably be in church in the morning. she had asked to see his fiddle, so in the morning he took it and went down with it to the park, the church was within the grounds, and he had to pass it. as he went by he heard the roll of the organ and the strains of the choir. he stopped to hearken, then went up the steps of the churchyard, listening. a desire came on him to catch the air on his improvised violin, and he put it to his shoulder and drew his bow across the slender cords. the sound was very faint, so faint as to be drowned by the greater volume of the organ and the choir. neverlittle joe gander 257 theless he could hear the feeble tones close to his ear, and his heart danced at the pleasure of playing to an accompaniment, like miss amory. the choir, the congregation, were singing the advent hymn to luther's tune“great god, what do i see and hear? the end of things created.” little joe, playing his inaudible instrument, came creeping up the avenue, treading on the fallen yellow lime leaves, passing between the tombstones, drawn on by the solemn, beautiful music. presently he stood in the porch, then he went on; he was unconscious of everything but the music and the joy of playing with it; he walked on softly into the church without even removing his ragged straw cap, though the squire and the squire's wife, and the rector and the reverend the mrs. rector, and the parish churchwarden and the rector's churchwarden, and the overseer, and the waywarden, and all the farmers and their wives were present. he had forgotten about his broken cap in the delight that made the tears fill his eyes and trickle over his pale cheeks. then when with a shock the parson and the churchwardens saw the ragged urchin coming up the nave fiddling, with his hat on, regardless of the sacredness of the place, and above all of the sacredness of the presence of the squire, j.p. and d.l., the rector coughed very loud and looked hard at his churchwarden, farmer eggins, who turned red as the sun in a november fog, and rose. at the same instant the people's churchwarden rose, and both advanced upon joe gander from opposite sides of the church. at the moment that they touched him the organ and the singing ceased; and it was to joe a sudden wakening from a golden dream to a black and raw reality. he looked up with dazed face first at one man, then at the other : both their faces blazed with equal indignation ; 258 a book of ghosts steps at once and ent joe gander spinni parson's church both were equally speechless with wrath. they conducted him, each holding an arm, out of the porch and down the avenue. joe heard indistinctly behind him the droning of the rector's voice continuing the prayers. he looked back over his shoulder and saw the faces of the schoolchildren straining after him through the open door from their places near it. on reaching the steps—there was a flight of five leading to the road—the people's churchwarden uttered a loud and disgusted “ugh!" then with his heavy hand slapped the head of the child towards the parson's churchwarden, who with his still heavier hand boxed it back again; then the people's church warden gave him a blow which sent him staggering forward, and this was supplemented by a kick from the parson's churchwarden, which sent joe gander spinning down the five steps at once and cast him prostrate into the road, where he fell and crushed his extemporised violin. then the churchwardens turned, blew their noses, and re-entered the church, where they sat out the rest of the service, grateful in their hearts that they had been enabled that day to show that their office was no sinecure. the churchwardens were unaware that in banging and kicking the little boy out of the churchyard and into the road they had flung him so that he fell with his head upon the curbstone of the footpath, which stone was of slate, and sharp. they did not find this out through the prayers, nor through the sermon. but when the whole congregation left the church they were startled to find little joe gander insensible, with his head cut, and a pool of blood on the footway. the squire was shocked, as were his wife and daughter, and the churchwardens were in consternation. fortunately the squire's stables were near the church, and there was a running fountain there, so that water was procured, and the child revived. mrs. amory had in the meantime hastened home and returned with a roll of diachylon plaster and a pair of little joe gander 259 small scissors. strips of the adhesive plaster were applied to the wound, and the boy was soon sufficiently recovered to stand on his feet, when the churchwardens very considerately undertook to march him home. on reaching his cottage the churchwardens described what had taken place, painting the insult offered to the worshippers in the most hideous colours, and representing the accident of the cut as due to the violent resistance offered by the culprit to their ejectment of him. then each pressed a half-crown into the hand of mr. lambole and departed to his dinner. “now then, young shaver,” exclaimed the father, “at your pranks again! how often have i told you not to go intruding into a place of worship? church ain't for such as you. if you had'nt been punished a bit already, wouldn't i larrup you neither ? oh, no!” little joe's head was bad for some days. his cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright, and he talked strangely -he who was usually so silent. what troubled him was the loss of his fiddle; he did not know what had become of it, whether it had been stolen or confiscated. he asked after it, and when at last it was produced, smashed to chips, with the strings torn and hanging loose about it like the cordage of a broken vessel, he cried bitterly. miss amory came to the cottage to see him, and finding father and stepmother out, went in and pressed five shillings into his hand. then he laughed with delight, and clapped his hands, and hid the money away in his pocket, but he said nothing, and miss amory went away convinced that the child was half a fool. but little joe had sense in his head, though his head was different from those of others; he knew that now he had the money wherewith to buy the beautiful fiddle he had seen in the shop window many months before, and to get which he had worked and denied himself food. when miss amory was gone, and his stepmother had not returned, he opened the door of the cottage and stole 260 a book of ghosts vas hot, he took sbandage round histh he ran til out. he was afraid of being seen, so he crept along in the hedge, and when he thought anyone was coming he got through a gate or lay down in a ditch, till he was some way on his road to the town. then he ran till he was tired. he had a bandage round his head, and, as his head was hot, he took the rag off, dipped it in water, and tied it round his head again. never in his life had his mind been clearer than it was now, for now he had a distinct purpose, and an object easily attainable, before him. he held the money in his hand, and looked at it, and kissed it; then pressed it to his beating heart, then ran on. he lost breath. he could run no more. he sat down in the hedge and gasped. the perspiration was streaming off his face. then he thought he heard steps coming fast along the road he had run, and as he feared pursuit, he got up and ran on. he went through the village four miles from home just as the children were leaving school, and when they saw him some of the elder cried out that here was "gander joe! quack! quack! joe the gander ! quack! quack! quack!” and the little ones joined in the banter. the boy ran on, though hot and exhausted, and with his head swimming, to escape their merriment. he got some way beyond the village when he came to a turnpike. there he felt dizzy, and he timidly asked if he might have a piece of bread. he would pay for it if they would change a shilling. the woman at the 'pike pitied the pale, hollow-eyed child, and questioned him; but her questions bewildered him, and he feared she would send him home, so that he either answered nothing, or in a way which made her think him distraught. she gave him some bread and water, and watched him going on towards the town till he was out of sight. the day was already declining; it would be dark by the time he reached the town. but he did not think of that. he did not consider where he would sleep, whether he would have little joe gander 261 strength to return ten miles to his home. he thought only of the beautiful red violin with the yellow bridge hung in the shop window, and offered for three shillings and sixpence. three-and-sixpence! why, he had five shillings. he had money to spend on other things beside the fiddle. he had been sadly disappointed about his savings from the weekly sixpence. he had asked for them; he had earned them, not by his work only, but by his abstention from two pieces of bread per diem. when he asked for the money, his stepmother answered that she had put it away in the savings bank. if he had it he would waste it on sweetstuff; if it were hoarded up it would help him on in life when left to shift for himself; and if he died, why it would go towards his burying. so the child had been disappointed in his calculations, and had worked and starved for nothing. then came miss amory with her present, and he had run away with that, lest his mother should take it from him to put in the savings bank for setting him up in life or for his burying. what cared he for either? all his ambition was to have a fiddle, and a fiddle was to be had for threeand-sixpence. joe gander was tired. he was fain to sit down at intervals on the heaps of stones by the roadside to rest. his shoes were very poor, with soles worn through, so that the stones hurt his feet. at this time of the year the highways were fresh metalled, and as he stumbled over the newly broken stones they cut his soles and his ankles turned. he was footsore and weary in body, but his heart never failed him. before him shone the red violin with the yellow bridge, and the beautiful bow strung with shining white hair. when he had that all his weariness would pass as a dream; he would hunger no more, cry no more, feel no more sickness or faintness. he would draw the bow over the strings and play with his fingers on the catgut, and the waves of music would thrill and flow, and 262 a book of ghosts away on those melodious waves his soul would float far from trouble, far from want, far from tears, into a shining, sunny world of music. so he picked himself up when he fell, and staggered to his feet from the stones on which he rested, and pressed on. the sun was setting as he entered the town. he went straight to the shop he so well remembered, and to his inexpressible delight saw still in the window the coveted violin, price three shillings and sixpence. then he timidly entered the shop, and with trembling hand held out the money. “what do you want?" “it," said the boy. it. to him the shop held but one article. the dolls, the wooden horses, the tin steamengines, the bats, the kites, were unconsidered. he had seen and remembered only one thing—the red violin. " it," said the boy, and pointed. when little joe had got the violin he pressed it to his shoulder, and his heart bounded as though it would have burst the pigeon breast. his dull eyes lightened, and into his white sunken cheeks shot a hectic flame. he went forth with his head erect and with firm foot, holding his fiddle to the shoulder and the bow in hand. he turned his face homeward. now he would return to father and stepmother, to his little bed at the head of the stairs, to his scanty meals, to the school, to the sweeping of the park drive, and to his stepmother's scoldings and his father's beatings. he had his fiddle, and he cared for nothing else. he waited till he was out of the town before he tried it. then, when he was on a lonely part of the road, he seated himself in the hedge, under a holly tree covered with scarlet berries, and tried his instrument. alas! it had hung many years in the shop window, and the catgut was old and the glue had lost its tenacity. one string started ; then when he tried to screw up a second, it sprang as well, little joe gander 263 and then the bridge collapsed and fell. moreover, the hairs on the bow came out. they were unresined. then little joe's spirits gave way. he laid the bow and the violin on his knees and began to cry. as he cried he heard the sound of approaching wheels and the clatter of a horse's hoofs. he heard, but he was immersed in sorrow and did not heed and raise his head to see who was coming. had he done so he would have seen nothing, as his eyes were swimming with tears. looking out of them he saw only as one sees who opens his eyes when diving. "halloa, young shaver! dang you! what do you mean giving me such a cursed hunt after you as thisyou as ain't worth the trouble, eh?” the voice was that of his father, who drew up before him. mr. lambole had made inquiries when it was discovered that joe was lost, first at the school, where it was most unlikely he would be found, then at the public-house, at the gardener's and the gamekeeper's; then he had looked down the well and then up the chimney. after that he went to the cottage in the quarry. roger gale knew nothing of him. presently someone coming from the nearest village mentioned that he had been seen there; whereupon lambole borrowed farmer eggins's trap and went after him, peering right and left of the road with his one eye. sure enough he had been through the village. he had passed the turnpike. the woman there described him accurately as "a sort of a tottle" (fool). mr. lambole was not a pleasant-looking man; he was as solidly built as a navvy. the backs of his hands were hairy, and his fist was so hard, and his blows so weighty, that for sport he was wont to knock down and kill at a blow the oxen sent to butcher robbins for slaughter, and that he did with his fist alone, hitting the animal on the head between the horns, a little forward of the horns. ac mr. lambuilt as a navy hard, and che down andchter, and 264 a book of ghosts that was a great feat of strength, and lambole was proud of it. he had a long back and short legs. the back was not pliable or bending; it was hard, braced with sinews tough as hawsers, and supported a pair of shoulders that could sustain the weight of an ox. his face was of a coppery colour, caused by exposure to the air and drinking. his hair was light: that was almost the only feature his son had derived from him. it was very light, too light for his dark red face. it grew about his neck and under his chin as a newgate collar; there was a great deal of it, and his face, encircled by the pale hair, looked like an angry moon surrounded by a fog bow. mr. lambole had a queer temper. he bottled up his anger, but when it blew the cork out it spurted over and splashed all his home; it flew in the faces and soused everyone who came near him. mr. lambole took his son roughly by the arm and lifted him into the tax cart. the boy offered no resistance. his spirit was broken, his hopes extinguished. for months he had yearned for the red fiddle, price three-andsix, and now that, after great pains and privations, he had acquired it, the fiddle would not sound. " ain't you ashamed of yourself, giving your dear dada such trouble, eh, viper ?" mr. lambole turned the horse's head homeward. he had his black patch towards the little gander, seated in the bottom of the cart, hugging his wrecked violin. when mr. lambole spoke he turned his face round to bring the active eye to bear on the shrinking, crouching little figure below. the viper made no answer, but looked up. mr. lambole turned his face away, and the seeing eye watched the horse's ears, and the black patch was towards a frightened, piteous, pleading little face, looking up, with the light of the evening sky irradiating it, showing how wan it was, how hollow were the cheeks, how sunken the eyes, how little joe gander 265 sharp the little pinched nose. the boy put up his arm, that held the bow, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. in so doing he poked his father in the ribs with the end of the bow. “now, then !” exclaimed mr. lambole with an oath, “what darn'd insolence be you up to now, gorilla ?" if he had not held the whip in one hand and the reins in the other he would have taken the bow from the child and flung it into the road. he contented himself with rapping joe's head with the end of the whip. “what's that you've got there, eh?” he asked. the child replied timidly: "please, father, a fiddle.” “where did you get 'un-steal it, eh ? " joe answered, trembling : "no, dada, i bought it.” “bought it! where did you get the money ?” “miss amory gave it me.” “how much?” the gander answered: “her gave me five shilling." “five shillings! and what did that blessed” (he did not say “blessed,” but something quite the reverse) “ fiddle cost you?" “three-and-sixpence.” “so you've only one-and-six left?” " i've none, dada.” “why not?" "because i spent one shilling on a pipe for you, and sixpence on a thimble for stepmother as a present," answered the child, with a flicker of hope in his dim eyes that this would propitiate his father. “dash me,” roared the roadmaker, "if you ain't worse nor mr. chamberlain, as would rob us of the cheap loaf! what in the name of thunder and bones do you mean squandering the precious money over fooleries like that for? i've got my pipe, black as your back shall be before to-morrow, and mother has an old thimble as full o' holes as i'll make your skin before the night is much sixpencethe child, ropitiate his or if you aheap loaf! 266 a book of ghosts older. wait till we get home, and i'll make pretty music out of that there fiddle! just you see if i don't.” joe shivered in his seat, and his head fell. mr. lambole had a playful wit. he beguiled his journey home by indulging in it, and his humour flashed above the head of the child like summer lightning. “you're hardly expecting the abundance of the supper that's awaiting you," he said, with his black patch glowering down at the irresponsive heap in the corner of the cart. “no stinting of the dressing, i can tell you. you like your meat well basted, don't you? the basting shall not incur your disapproval as insufficient. underdone? oh, dear, no! nothing underdone for me. pickles? i can promise you that there is something in pickle for you, hot-very hot and stinging. plenty of capers-mutton and capers. mashed potatoes ? was the request for that on the tip of your tongue? sorry i can give you only half what you want-the mash, not the potatoes. there is nothing comparable in my mind to young pig with crackling. the hide is well striped, cut in lines from the neck to the tail. i think we'll have crackling on our pig before morning.” he now threw his seeing eye into the depths of the cart, to note the effect his fun had on the child, but he was disappointed. it had evoked no hilarity. joe had fallen asleep, exhausted by his walk, worn out with disappointments, with his head on his fiddle, that lay on his knees. the jogging of the cart, the attitude, affected his wound; the plaster had given way, and the blood was running over the little red fiddle and dripping into its hollow body through the s-hole on each side. it was too dark for mr. lambole to notice this. he set his lips. his self-esteem was hurt at the child not relishing his waggery. mrs. lambole observed it when, shortly after, the cart drew up at the cottage and she lifted the sleeping child out. little joe gander 267 “i must take the cart back to farmer eggins,” said her husband ; "duty fust, and pleasure after.” when his father was gone mrs. lambole said, “now then, joe, you've been a very wicked, bad boy, and god will never forgive you for the naughtiness you have committed and the trouble to which you have put your poor father and me.” she would have spoken more sharply but that his head needed her care and the sight of the blood disarmed her. moreover, she knew that her husband would not pass over what had occurred with a reprimand. “get off your clothes and go to bed, joe,” she said when she had readjusted the plaster. “you may take a piece of dry bread with you, and i'll see if i can't persuade your father to put off whipping of you for a day or two." joe began to cry. “there,” she said, “don't cry. when wicked children do wicked things they must suffer for them. it is the law of nature. and," she went on, "you ought to be that ashamed of yourself that you'd be glad for the earth to open under you and swallow you up like korah, dathan, and abiram. running away from so good and happy a home and such tender parents! but i reckon you be lost to natural affection as you be to reason." “may i take my fiddle with me?" asked the boy. "oh, take your fiddle if you like," answered his mother. “much good may it do you. here, it is all smeared wi' blood. let me wipe it first, or you'll mess the bedclothes with it. there," she said as she gave him the broken instrument. “say your prayers and go to sleep; though i reckon your prayers will never reach to heaven, coming out of such a wicked unnatural heart." so the little gander went to his bed. the cottage had but one bedroom and a landing above the steep and narrow flight of steps that led to it from the kitchen. on this landing was a small truckle bed, on which joe slept. he took off his clothes and stood in his little short shirt of dle with to reason recko 268 a book of ghosts very coarse white linen. he knelt down and said his prayers, with both his hands spread over his fiddle. then he got into bed, and until his stepmother fetched away the benzoline lamp he examined the instrument. he saw that the bridge might be set up again with a little glue, and that fresh catgut strings might be supplied. he would take his fiddle next day to roger gale and ask him to help to mend it for him. he was sure roger would take an interest in it. roger had been mysterious of late, hinting that the time was coming when joey would have a first-rate instrument and learn to play like a paganini. yes; the case of the red fiddle was not desperate. just then he heard the door below open, and his father's step. “where is the toad ?" said mr. lambole. joe held his breath, and his blood ran cold. he could hear every word, every sound in the room below. “he's gone to bed," answered mrs. lambole. “leave the poor little creetur alone to-night, samuel ; his head has been bad, and he don't look well. he's overdone." “susan," said the roadmaker, “ i've been simmering all the way to town, and bubbling and boiling all the way back, and busting is what i be now, and bust i will." little joe sat up in bed, hugging the violin, and his towlike hair stood up on his head. his great stupid eyes stared wide with fear; in the dark the iris in each had grown big, and deep, and solemn. “give me my stick," said mr. lambole. “i've promised him a taste of it, and a taste won't suffice to-night; he must have a gorge of it.” " i've put it away,” said mrs. lambole. “samuel, right is right, and i'm not one to stand between the child and what he deserves, but he ain't in condition for it to-night. he wants feeding up to it.” without wasting another word on her the roadmaker went upstairs. little joe gander 269 the shuddering, cowering little fellow saw first the red face, surrounded by a halo of pale hair, rise above the floor, then the strong square shoulders, then the clenched hands, and then his father stood before him, revealed down to his thick boots. the child crept back in the bed against the wall, and would have disappeared through it had the wall been soft-hearted, as in fairy tales, and opened to receive him. he clasped his little violin tight to his heart, and then the blood that had fallen into it trickled out and ran down his shirt, staining it — upon the bedclothes, staining them. but the father did not see this. he was effervescing with fury. his pulses went at a gallop, and his great fists clutched spasmodically. “you judas iscariot, come here !” he shouted. but the child only pressed closer against the wall. “what! disobedient and daring? do you hear? come to me!” the trembling child pointed to a pretty little pipe on the bedclothes. he had drawn it from his pocket and taken the paper off it, and laid it there, and stuck the silver-headed thimble in the bowl for his stepmother when she came upstairs to take the lamp. “come here, vagabond !” he could not; he had not the courage nor the strength. he still pointed pleadingly to the little presents he had bought with his eighteenpence. “you won't, you dogged, insulting being ?” roared the roadmaker, and rushed at him, knocking over the pipe, which fell and broke on the floor, and trampling flat the thimble. “you won't yet? always full of sulks and defiance! oh, you ungrateful one, you!" then he had him by the collar of his nightshirt and dragged him from his bed, and with his violence tore the button off, and with his other hand he wrenched the violin away and beat the child over the back with it as he dragged him from the dragged hand bead with bed. 270 a book of ghosts "oh, my mammy! my mammy!” cried joe. he was not crying out for his stepmother. it was the agonised cry of his frightened heart for the one only being who had ever loved him, and whom god had removed from him. suddenly samuel lambole started back. before him, and between him and the child, stood a pale, ghostly form, and he knew his first wife. he stood speechless and quaking. then, gradually recovering himself, he stumbled down the stairs, and seated himself, looking pasty and scared, by the fire below. “what is the matter with you, samuel ?" asked his wife. “i've seen her," he gasped. “don't ask no more questions." now when he was gone, little joe, filled with terrornot at the apparition, which he had not seen, for his eyes were too dazed to behold it, but with apprehension of the chastisement that awaited him, scrambled out of the window and dropped on the pigsty roof, and from thence jumped to the ground. then he ran_ran as fast as his legs could carry him, still hugging his instrument—to the churchyard; and on reaching that he threw himself on his mother's grave and sobbed : "oh, mammy, mammy! father wants to beat me and take away my beautiful violin-but oh, mammy! my violin won't play.” and when he had spoken, from out the grave rose the form of his lost mother, and looked kindly on him. joe saw her, and he had no fear. “mammy!” said he, “mammy, my violin cost three shillings and sixpence, and i can't make it play noways." then the spirit of his mother passed a hand over the the strings, and smiled. joe looked into her eyes, and they were as stars. and he put the violin under his chin, and drew the bow across the strings—and lo! they sounded wondrously. his soul thrilled, his heart bounded, his dull 219 “mammy," said he, “mammy, my violin cost three shillings and sixience, and i can't make it lay noways" little joe gander 271 eye brightened. he was as though caught up in a chariot of fire and carried to heavenly places. his bow worked rapidly, such strains poured from the little instrument as he had never heard before. it was to him as though heaven opened, and he heard the angels performing there, and he with his fiddle was taking a part in the mighty symphony. he felt not the cold, the night was not dark to him. his head no longer ached. it was as though after long seeking through life he had gained an undreamed-of prize, reached some glorious consummation. there was a musical party that same evening at the hall. miss amory played beautifully, with extraordinary feeling and execution, both with and without accompaniment on the piano. several ladies and gentlemen sang and played ; there were duets and trios. during the performances the guests talked to each other in low tones about various topics. said one lady to mrs. amory: “how strange it is that among the english lower classes there is no love of music.” “there is none at all,” answered mrs. amory; "our rector's wife has given herself great trouble to get up parochial entertainments, but we find that nothing takes with the people but comic songs, and these, instead of elevating, vulgarise them.” “they have no music in them. the only people with music in their souls are the germans and the italians.” “yes," said mrs. amory with a sigh; “it is sad, but true: there is neither poetry, nor picturesqueness, nor music among the english peasantry." "you have never heard of one, self-taught, with a real love of music in this country?" "never : such do not exist among us.” the parish churchwarden was walking along the road on 272 a book of ghosts his way to his farmhouse, and the road passed under the churchyard wall. as he walked along the way–with a not too steady step, for he was returning from the public-house-he was surprised and frightened to hear music proceed from among the graves. it was too dark for him to see any figure then, only the tombstones loomed on him in ghostly shapes. he began to quake, and finally turned and ran, nor did he slacken his pace till he reached the tavern, where he burst in shouting: “there's ghosts abroad. i've heard 'em in the churchyard making music.” the revellers rose from their cups. “shall we go and hear?" they asked. “i'll go for one,” said a man; “if others will go with me.” “ay," said a third, “and if the ghosts be playing a jolly good tune, we'll chip in." so the whole half-tipsy party reeled along the road, talking very loud, to encourage themselves and the others, till they approached the church, the spire of which stood up dark against the night sky. “there's no lights in the windows," said one. "no," observed the churchwarden, “i didn't notice any myself; it was from the graves the music came, as if all the dead was squeakin' like pigs." “hush !" all kept silence-not a sound could be heard. “i'm sure i heard music afore," said the churchwarden. “ i'll bet a gallon of ale i did." “there ain't no music now, though,” remarked one of the men. “nor more there ain't,” said others. “well, i don't care—i say i heard it," asseverated the churchwarden. “let's go up closer." all of the party drew nearer to the wall of the graveyard. one man, incapable of maintaining his legs unaided, sustained himself on the arm of another. little joe gander 273 “well, i do believe, churchwarden eggins, as how you have been leading us a wild goose chase!” said a fellow. then the clouds broke, and a bright, dazzling pure ray shot down on a grave in the churchyard, and revealed a little figure lying on it. "i do believe," said one man, “as how, if he ain't led us a goose chase, he's brought us after a gander-surely that is little joe." thus encouraged, and their fears dispelled, the whole half-tipsy party stumbled up the graveyard steps, staggered among the tombs, some tripping on the mounds and falling prostrate. all laughed, talked, joked with one another. the only one silent there was little joe gander—and he was gone to join in the great symphony above. a dead finger w h y the national gallery should not attract so many vv visitors as, say, the british museum, i cannot explain. the latter does not contain much that, one would suppose, appeals to the interest of the ordinary sightseer. what knows such of prehistoric flints and scratched bones ? of assyrian sculpture? or egyptian hieroglyphics? the greek and roman statuary is cold and dead. the paintings in the national gallery glow with colour, and are instinct with life. yet, somehow, a few listless wanderers saunter yawning through the national gallery, whereas swarms pour through the halls of the british museum, and talk and pass remarks about the objects there exposed, of the date and meaning of which they have not the faintest conception. i was thinking of this problem, and endeavouring to unravel it, one morning whilst sitting in the room for english masters at the great collection in trafalgar square. at the same time another thought forced itself upon me. i had been through the rooms devoted to foreign schools, and had then come into that given over to reynolds, morland, gainsborough, constable, and hogarth. the morning had been for a while propitious, but towards noon a dense umber-tinted fog had come on, making it all but impossible to see the pictures, and quite impossible to do them justice. i was tired, and so seated myself on one of the chairs, and fell into the consideration square. aasters at the whilst si 274 a dead finger 275 first of all of-why the national gallery is not as popular as it should be; and secondly, how it was that the british school had no beginnings, like those of italy and the netherlands. we can see the art of the painter from its first initiation in the italian peninsula, and among the flemings. it starts on its progress like a child, and we can trace every stage of its growth. not so with english art. it springs to life in full and splendid maturity. who were there before reynolds and gainsborough and hogarth? the great names of those portrait and subject painters who have left their canvases upon the walls of our country houses were those of foreigners— holbein, kneller, van dyck, and lely for portraits, and monnoyer for flower and fruit pieces. landscapes, figure subjects were all importations, none home-grown. how came that about? was there no limner that was native? was it that fashion trampled on home-grown pictorial beginnings as it flouted and spurned native music? here was food for contemplation. dreaming in the brown fog, looking through it without seeing its beauties, at hogarth's painting of lavinia fenton as polly peachum, without wondering how so indifferent a beauty could have captivated the duke of bolton and held him for thirty years, i was recalled to myself and my surroundings by the strange conduct of a lady who had seated herself on a chair near me, also discouraged by the fog, and awaiting its dispersion. i had not noticed her particularly. at the present moment i do not remember particularly what she was like. so far as i can recollect she was middle-aged, and was quietly yet well dressed. it was not her face nor her dress that attracted my attention and disturbed the current of my thoughts; the effect i speak of was produced by her strange movements and behaviour. she had been sitting listless, probably thinking of nothing at all, or nothing in particular, when, in turning mon far as et well de 276 a book of ghosts her eyes round, and finding that she could see nothing of the paintings, she began to study me. this did concern me greatly. a cat may look at the king ; but to be contemplated by a lady is a compliment sufficient to please any gentleman. it was not gratified vanity that troubled my thoughts, but the consciousness that my appearance produced—first of all a startled surprise, then undisguised alarm, and, finally, indescribable horror. now a man can sit quietly leaning on the head of his umbrella, and glow internally, warmed and illumined by the consciousness that he is being surveyed with admiration by a lovely woman, even when he is middle-aged and not fashionably dressed; but no man can maintain his composure when he discovers himself to be an object of aversion and terror. what was it? i passed my hand over my chin and upper lip, thinking it not impossible that i might have forgotten to shave that morning, and in my confusion not considering that the fog would prevent the lady from discovering neglect in this particular, had it occurred, which it had not. i am a little careless, perhaps, about shaving when in the country; but when in town, never. the next idea that occurred to me was—a smut. had a london black, curdled in that dense pea-soup atmosphere, descended on my nose and blackened it? i hastily drew my silk handkerchief from my pocket, moistened it, and passed it over my nose, and then each cheek. i then turned my eyes into the corners and looked at the lady, to see whether by this means i had got rid of what was objectionable in my personal appearance. then i saw that her eyes, dilated with horror, were riveted, not on my face, but on my leg. my leg! what on earth could that harmless member have in it so terrifying? the morning had been dull; there had been rain in the night, and i admit that on leaving my hotel i had turned up the bottoms of my trousers. a dead finger 277 that is a proceeding not so uncommon, not so outrageous as to account for the stony stare of this woman's eyes. if that were all i would turn my trousers down. then i saw her shrink from the chair on which she sat to one further removed from me, but still with her eyes fixed on my leg—about the level of my knee. she had let fall her umbrella, and was grasping the seat of her chair with both hands, as she backed from me. i need hardly say that i was greatly disturbed in mind and feelings, and forgot all about the origin of the english schools of painters, and the question why the british museum is more popular than the national gallery. thinking that i might have been spattered by a hansom whilst crossing oxford street, i passed my hand down my side hastily, with a sense of annoyance, and all at once touched something cold, clammy, that sent a thrill to my heart, and made me start and take a step forward. at the same moment, the lady, with a cry of horror, sprang to her feet, and with raised hands fled from the room, leaving her umbrella where it had fallen. there were other visitors to the picture gallery besides ourselves, who had been passing through the saloon, and they turned at her cry, and looked in surprise after her. the policeman stationed in the room came to me and asked what had happened. i was in such agitation that i hardly knew what to answer. i told him that i could explain what had occurred little better than himself. i had noticed that the lady had worn an odd expression, and had behaved in most extraordinary fashion, and that he had best take charge of her umbrella, and wait for her return to claim it. this questioning by the official was vexing, as it prevented me from at once and on the spot investigating the cause of her alarm and mine-hers at something she must have seen on my leg, and mine at something i had distinctly felt creeping up my leg. 278 a book of ghosts the numbing and sickening effect on me of the touch of the object i had not seen was not to be shaken off at once. indeed, i felt as though my hand were contaminated, and that i could have no rest till i had thoroughly washed the hand, and, if possible, washed away the feeling that had been produced. i looked on the floor, i examined my leg, but saw nothing. as i wore my overcoat, it was probable that in rising from my seat the skirt had fallen over my trousers and hidden the thing, whatever it was. i therefore hastily removed my overcoat and shook it, then i looked at my trousers. there was nothing whatever on my leg, and nothing fell from my overcoat when shaken. accordingly i reinvested myself, and hastily left the gallery ; then took my way as speedily as i could, without actually running, to charing cross station and down the narrow way leading to the metropolitan, where i went into faulkner's bath and hairdressing establishment, and asked for hot water to thoroughly wash my hand and well soap it. i bathed my hand in water as hot as i could endure it, employed carbolic soap, and then, after having a good brush down, especially on my left side where my hand had encountered the object that had so affected me, i left. i had entertained the intention of going to the princess's theatre that evening, and of securing a ticket in the morning ; but all thought of theatre-going was gone from me. i could not free my heart from the sense of nausea and cold that had been produced by the touch. i went into gatti's to have lunch, and ordered something, i forget what, but, when served, i found that my appetite was gone. i could eat nothing ; the food inspired me with disgust. i thrust it from me untasted, and, after drinking a couple of glasses of claret, left the restaurant, and returned to my hotel. feeling sick and faint, i threw my overcoat over the sofa-back, and cast myself on my bed. i do not know that there was any particular reason for a dead finger 279 my doing so, but as i lay my eyes were on my greatcoat. the density of the fog had passed away, and there was light again, not of first quality, but sufficient for a londoner to swear by, so that i could see everything in my room, though through a veil, darkly. i do not think my mind was occupied in any way. about the only occasions on which, to my knowledge, my mind is actually passive or inert is when crossing the channel in the foam from dover to calais, when i am always, in every weather, abjectly seasick-and thoughtless. but as i now lay on my bed, uncomfortable, squeamish, without knowing why—i was in the same inactive mental condition. but not for long. i saw something that startled me. first, it appeared to me as if the lappet of my overcoat pocket were in movement, being raised. i did not pay much attention to this, as i supposed that the garment was sliding down on to the seat of the sofa, from the back, and that this displacement of gravity caused the movement i observed. but this i soon saw was not the case. that which moved the lappet was something in the pocket that was struggling to get out. i could see now that it was working its way up the inside, and that when it reached the opening it lost balance and fell down again. i could make this out by the projections and indentations in the cloth; these moved as the creature, or whatever it was, worked its way up the lining. "a mouse," i said, and forgot my seediness; i was interested. “the little rascal! however did he contrive to seat himself in my pocket ? and i have worn that overcoat all the morning!" but no-it was not a mouse. i saw something white poke its way out from under the lappet; and in another moment an object was revealed that, though revealed, i could not understand, nor could i distinguish what it was. 280 a book of ghosts now roused by curiosity, i raised myself on my elbow. in doing this i made some noise, the bed creaked. instantly the something dropped on the floor, lay outstretched for a moment, to recover itself, and then began, with the motions of a maggot, to run along the floor. there is a caterpillar called “the measurer," because, when it advances, it draws its tail up to where its head is and then throws forward its full length, and again draws up its extremity, forming at each time a loop; and with each step measuring its total length. the object i now saw on the floor was advancing precisely like the measuring caterpillar. it had the colour of a cheesemaggot, and in length was about three and a half inches. it was not, however, like a caterpillar, which is flexible throughout its entire length, but this was, as it seemed to me, jointed it two places, one joint being more conspicuous than the other. for some moments i was so completely paralysed by astonishment that i remained motionless, looking at the thing as it crawled along the carpet-a dull green carpet with darker green, almost black, flowers in it. it had, as it seemed to me, a glossy head, distinctly marked ; but, as the light was not brilliant, i could not make out very clearly, and, moreover, the rapid movements prevented close scrutiny. presently, with a shock still more startling than that produced by its apparition at the opening of the pocket of my great-coat, i became convinced that what i saw was a finger, a human forefinger, and that the glossy head was no other than the nail. the finger did not seem to have been amputated. there was no sign of blood or laceration where the knuckle should be, but the extremity of the finger, or root rather, faded away to indistinctness, and i was unable to make out the root of the finger. i could see no hand, no body behind this finger, nothing whatever except a finger that had little token of warm life a dead finger 281 in it, no coloration as though blood circulated in it; and this finger was in active motion creeping along the carpet towards a wardrobe that stood against the wall by the fireplace. i sprang off the bed and pursued it. evidently the finger was alarmed, for it redoubled its pace, reached the wardrobe, and went under it. by the time i had arrived at the article of furniture it had disappeared. i lit a vesta match and held it beneath the wardrobe, that was raised above the carpet by about two inches, on turned feet, but i could see nothing more of the finger. i got my umbrella and thrust it beneath, and raked forwards and backwards, right and left, and raked out flue, and nothing more solid. ii i packed my portmanteau next day and returned to my home in the country. all desire for amusement in town was gone, and the faculty to transact business had departed as well. a languor and qualms had come over me, and my head was in a maze. i was unable to fix my thoughts on anything. at times i was disposed to believe that my wits were deserting me, at others that i was on the verge of a severe illness. anyhow, whether likely to go off my head or not, or take to my bed, home was the only place for me, and homeward i sped, accordingly. on reaching my country habitation, my servant, as usual, took my portmanteau to my bedroom, unstrapped it, but did not unpack it. i object to his throwing out the contents of my gladstone bag; not that there is anything in it he may not see, but that he puts my things where i cannot find them again. my clothes he is welcome to place them where he likes and where they belong, and 282 a book of ghosts of the son end her alrewag, and this latter he knows better than i do; but, then, i carry about with me other things than a dress suit, and changes of linen and flannel. there are letters, papers, booksand the proper destinations of these are known only to myself. a servant has a singular and evil knack of putting away literary matter and odd volumes in such places that it takes the owner half a day to find them again. although i was uncomfortable, and my head in a whirl, i opened and unpacked my own portmanteau. as i was thus engaged i saw something curled up in my collar-box, the lid of which had got broken in by a bootheel impinging on it. i had pulled off the damaged cover to see if my collars had been spoiled, when something curled up inside suddenly rose on end and leapt, just like a cheese-jumper, out of the box, over the edge of the gladstone bag, and scurried away across the floor in a manner already familiar to me. i could not doubt for a moment what it was—here was the finger again. it had come with me from london to the country. whither it went in its run over the floor i do not know, i was too bewildered to observe. somewhat later, towards evening, i seated myself in my easy-chair, took up a book, and tried to read. i was tired with the journey, with the knocking about in town, and the discomfort and alarm produced by the apparition of the finger. i felt worn out. i was unable to give my attention to what i read, and before i was aware was asleep. roused for an instant by the fall of the book from my hands, i speedily relapsed into unconsciousness. i am not sure that a doze in an armchair ever does good. it usually leaves me in a semi-stupid condition and with a headache. five minutes in a horizontal position on my bed is worth thirty in a chair. that is my experience. in sleeping in a sedentary position the head is a difficulty; it drops forward or lolls on one side or the other, and has a dead finger 283 to be brought back into a position in which the line to the centre of gravity runs through the trunk, otherwise the head carries the body over in a sort of general capsize out of the chair on to the floor. i slept, on the occasion of which i am speaking, pretty healthily, because deadly weary; but i was brought to waking, not by my head falling over the arm of the chair, and my trunk tumbling after it, but by a feeling of cold extending from my throat to my heart. when i awoke i was in a diagonal position, with my right ear resting on my right shoulder, and exposing the left side of my throat, and it was here—where the jugular vein throbs—that i felt the greatest intensity of cold. at once i shrugged my left shoulder, rubbing my neck with the collar of my coat in so doing. immediately something fell off, upon the floor, and i again saw the finger. my disgust-horror, were intensified when i perceived that it was dragging something after it, which might have been an old stocking, and which i took at first glance for something of the sort. the evening sun shone in through my window, in a brilliant golden ray that lighted the object as it scrambled along. with this illumination i was able to distinguish what the object was. it is not easy to describe it, but i will make the attempt. the finger i saw was solid and material ; what it drew after it was neither, or was in a nebulous, protoplasmic condition. the finger was attached to a hand that was curdling into matter and in process of acquiring solidity ; attached to the hand was an arm in a very filmy condition, and this arm belonged to a human body in a still more vaporous, immaterial condition. this was being dragged along the floor by the finger, just as a silkworm might pull after it the tangle of its web. i could see legs and arms, and head, and coat-tail tumbling about and interlacing and disentangling again in a promiscuous manner. 284 a book of ghosts there were no bone, no muscle, no substance in the figure; the members were attached to the trunk, which was spineless, but they had evidently no functions, and were wholly dependent on the finger which pulled them along in a jumble of parts as it advanced. in such confusion did the whole vaporous matter seem, that i think-i cannot say for certain it was so, but the impression left on my mind was—that one of the eyeballs was looking out at a nostril, and the tongue lolling out of one of the ears. it was, however, only for a moment that i saw this germ-body; i cannot call by another name that which had not more substance than smoke. i saw it only so long as it was being dragged athwart the ray of sunlight, the moment it was pulled jerkily out of the beam into the shadow beyond, i could see nothing of it, only the crawling finger. i had not sufficient moral energy or physical force in me to rise, pursue, and stamp on the finger, and grind it with my heel into the floor. both seemed drained out of me. what became of the finger, whither it went, how it managed to secrete itself, i do not know. i had lost the power to inquire. i sat in my chair, chilled, staring before me into space. “please, sir," a voice said, “there's mr. square below electrical engineer." "eh?” i looked dreamily round. my valet was at the door. “please, sir, the gentleman would be glad to be allowed to go over the house and see that all the electrical apparatus is in order." “oh, indeed! yes—show him up." a dead finger 285 iii i had recently placed the lighting of my house in the hands of an electrical engineer, a very intelligent man, mr. square, for whom i had contracted a sincere friendship. he had built a shed with a dynamo out of sight, and had entrusted the laying of the wires to subordinates, as he had been busy with other orders and could not personally watch every detail. but he was not the man to let anything pass unobserved, and he knew that electricity was not a force to be played with. bad or careless workmen will often insufficiently protect the wires, or neglect the insertion of the lead which serves as a safety-valve in the event of the current being too strong. houses may be set on fire, human beings fatally shocked, by the neglect of a bad or slovenly workman. the apparatus for my mansion was but just completed, and mr. square had come to inspect it and make sure that all was right. he was an enthusiast in the matter of electricity, and saw for it a vast perspective, the limits of which could not be predicted. "all forces,” said he, “are correlated. when you have force in one form, you may just turn it into this or that, as you like. in one form it is motive power, in another it is light, in another heat. now we have electricity for illumination. we employ it, but not as freely as in the states, for propelling vehicles. why should we have horses drawing our buses? we should use only electric trams. why do we burn coal to warm our shins? there is electricity, which throws out no filthy smoke as does coal. why should we let the tides waste their energies in the thames ? in other estuaries? there we have nature supplying us—free, gratis, and for nothing—with all the force we want for propelling, for heating, for lighting. i will tell you something more, my dear sir," said mr. square. “i have mentioned but three modes of force, and have 286 a book of ghosts instanced but a limited number of uses to which electricity may be turned. how is it with photography? is not electric light becoming an artistic agent? i bet you," said he,“ before long it will become a therapeutic agent as well.” “oh, yes; i have heard of certain impostors with their life-belts." mr. square did not relish this little dig i gave him. he winced, but returned to the charge. “we don't know how to direct it aright, that is all,” said he. "i haven't taken the matter up, but others will, i bet; and we shall have electricity used as freely as now we use powders and pills. i don't believe in doctors' stuffs myself. i hold that disease lays hold of a man because he lacks physical force to resist it. now, is it not obvious that you are beginning at the wrong end when you attack the disease? what you want is to supply force, make up for the lack of physical power, and force is force wherever you find it -here motive, there illuminating, and so on. i don't see why a physician should not utilise the tide rushing out under london bridge for restoring the feeble vigour of all who are languid and a prey to disorder in the metropolis. it will come to that, i bet, and that is not all. force is force, everywhere. political, moral force, physical force, dynamic force, heat, light, tidal waves, and so on-all are one, all is one. in time we shall know how to galvanise into aptitude and moral energy all the limp and crooked consciences and wills that need taking in hand, and such there always will be in modern civilisation. i don't know how to do it. i don't know how it will be done, but in the future the priest as well as the doctor will turn electricity on as his principal, nay, his only agent. and he can get his force anywhere, out of the running stream, out of the wind, out of the tidal wave. “i'll give you an instance," continued mr. square, chuckling and rubbing his hands, “to show you the great possibilities in electricity, used in a crude fashion. in a ©, everyw, to that, i prey to dig the fende rushinn't see ere. polibet, and therder in the vigour of a dead finger 287 certain great city away far west in the states, a go-ahead place, too, more so than new york, they had electric trams all up and down and along the roads to everywhere. the union men working for the company demanded that the non-unionists should be turned off. but the company didn't see it. instead, it turned off the union men. it had up its sleeve a sufficiency of the others, and filled all places at once. union men didn't like it, and passed word that at a given hour on a certain day every wire was to be cut. the company knew this by means of its spies, and turned on, ready for them, three times the power into all the wires. at the fixed moment, up the poles went the strikers to cut the cables, and down they came a dozen times quicker than they went up, i bet. then there came wires to the hospitals from all quarters for stretchers to carry off the disabled men, some with broken legs, arms, ribs; two or three had their necks broken. i reckon the company was wonderfully merciful-it didn't put on sufficient force to make cinders of them then and there; possibly opinion might not have liked it. stopped the strike, did that. great moral effect-all done by electricity.” in this manner mr. square was wont to rattle on. he interested me, and i came to think that there might be something in what he said—that his suggestions were not mere nonsense. i was glad to see mr. square enter my room, shown in by my man. i did not rise from my chair to shake his hand, for i had not sufficient energy to do so. in a languid tone i welcomed him and signed to him to take a seat. mr. square looked at me with some surprise. "why, what's the matter ?” he said. “you seem unwell. not got the 'aue, have you?" "i beg your pardon?”. “the influenza. every third person is crying out that he has it, and the sale of eucalyptus is enormous, not that eucalyptus is any good. influenza microbes indeed ! what care they for eucalyptus? you've gone down some 288 a book of ghosts steps of the ladder of life since i saw you last, squire. how do you account for that?” i hesitated about mentioning the extraordinary circumstances that had occurred; but square was a man who would not allow any beating about the bush. he was downright and straight, and in ten minutes had got the entire story out of me. "rather boisterous for your nerves that-a crawling finger," said he. “it's a queer story taken on end." then he was silent, considering. after a few minutes he rose, and said: "i'll go and look at the fittings, and then i'll turn this little matter of yours over again, and see if i can't knock the bottom out of it, i'm kinder fond of these sort of things.” mr. square was not a yankee, but he had lived for some time in america, and affected to speak like an american. he used expressions, terms of speech common in the states, but had none of the transatlantic twang. he was a man absolutely without affectation in every other particular; this was his sole weakness, and it was harmless. the man was so thorough in all he did that i did not expect his return immediately. he was certain to examine every portion of the dynamo engine, and all the connections and burners. this would necessarily engage him for some hours. as the day was nearly done, i knew he could not accomplish what he wanted that evening, and accordingly gave orders that a room should be prepared for him. then, as my head was full of pain, and my skin was burning, i told my servant to apologise for my absence from dinner, and tell mr. square that i was really forced to return to my bed by sickness, and that i believed i was about to be prostrated by an attack of influenza. the valet-a worthy fellow, who has been with me for six years—was concerned at my appearance, and urged me to allow him to send for a doctor. i had no confidence in the local practitioner, and if i sent for another from the nearest · a dead finger 289 town i should offend him, and a row would perhaps ensue, so i declined. if i were really in for an influenza attack, i knew about as much as any doctor how to deal with it. quinine, quinine--that was all. i bade my man light a small lamp, lower it, so as to give sufficient illumination to enable me to find some lime-juice at my bed head, and my pocket-handkerchief, and to be able to read my watch. when he had done this, i bade him leave me. i lay in bed, burning, racked with pain in my head, and with my eyeballs on fire. whether i fell asleep or went off my head for a while i cannot tell. i may have fainted. i have no recollection of anything after having gone to bed and taken a sip of lime-juice that tasted to me like soap-till i was roused by a sense of pain in my ribs—a slow, gnawing, torturing pain, waxing momentarily more intense. in half-consciousness i was partly dreaming and partly aware of actual suffering. the pain was real; but in my fancy i thought that a great maggot was working its way into my side between my ribs. i seemed to see it. it twisted itself half round, then reverted to its former position, and again twisted itself, moving like a bradawl, not like a gimlet, which latter forms a complete revolution. this, obviously, must have been a dream, hallucination only, as i was lying on my back and my eyes were directed towards the bottom of the bed, and the coverlet and blankets and sheet intervened between my eyes and my side. but in fever one sees without eyes, and in every direction, and through all obstructions. roused thoroughly by an excruciating twinge, i tried to cry out, and succeeded in throwing myself over on my right side, that which was in pain. at once i felt the thing withdrawn that was awling—if i may use the word—in between my ribs. and now i saw, standing beside the bed, a figure that had its arm under the bedclothes, and was slowly re290 a book of ghosts moving it. the hand was leisurely drawn from under the coverings and rested on the eider-down coverlet, with the forefinger extended. the figure was that of a man, in shabby clothes, with a sallow, mean face, a retreating forehead, with hair cut after the french fashion, and a moustache, dark. the jaws and chin were covered with a bristly growth, as if shaving had been neglected for a fortnight. the figure did not appear to be thoroughly solid, but to be of the consistency of curd, and the face was of the complexion of curd. as i looked at this object it withdrew, sliding backward in an odd sort of manner, and as though overweighted by the hand, which was the most substantial, indeed the only substantial portion of it. though the figure retreated stooping, yet it was no longer huddled along by the finger, as if it had no material existence. if the same, it had acquired a consistency and a solidity which it did not possess before. how it vanished i do not know, nor whither it went. the door opened, and square came in. “what!” he exclaimed with cheery voice; “influenza is it?” “i don't know-i think it's that finger again.” thoughantial, indeweighted iv “now, look here,” said square, “ i'm not going to have that cuss at its pranks any more. tell me all about it.” i was now so exhausted, so feeble, that i was not able to give a connected account of what had taken place, but square put to me just a few pointed questions and elicited the main facts. he pieced them together in his own orderly mind, so as to form a connected whole. “there is a feature in the case," said he, "that strikes me as remarkable and important. at first-a finger only, then a hand, then a nebulous figure attached to the hand, without backbone, without consistency. lastly, a complete form, a dead finger 291 with consistency and with backbone, but the latter in a gelatinous condition, and the entire figure overweighted by the hand, just as hand and figure were previously overweighted by the finger. simultaneously with this compacting and consolidating of the figure, came your degeneration and loss of vital force and, in a word, of health. what you lose, that object acquires, and what it acquires, it gains by contact with you. that's clear enough, is it not?” “i dare say. i don't know. i can't think.” “i suppose not; the faculty of thought is drained out of you. very well, i must think for you, and i will. force is force, and see if i can't deal with your visitant in such a way as will prove just as truly a moral dissuasive as that employed on the union men on strike in-never mind where it was. that's not to the point." “will you kindly give me some lime-juice?" i entreated. i sipped the acid draught, but without relief. i listened to square, but without hope. i wanted to be left alone, i was weary of my pain, weary of everything, even of life. it was a matter of indifference to me whether i recovered or slipped out of existence. “it will be here again shortly," said the engineer. “as the french say, l'appetit vient en mangeant. it has been at you thrice, it won't be content without another peck. and if it does get another, i guess it will pretty well about finish you." mr. square rubbed his chin, and then put his hands into his trouser pockets. that also was a trick acquired in the states, an inelegant one. his hands, when not actively occupied, went into his pockets, inevitably they gravitated thither. ladies did not like square ; they said he was not a gentleman. but it was not that he said or did anything “off colour," only he spoke to them, looked at them, walked with them, always with his hands in his pockets. i have seen a lady turn her back on him deliberately because of this trick. 292 a book of ghosts standing now with his hands in his pockets, he studied my bed, and said contemptuously : “old-fashioned and bad, fourposter. oughtn't to be allowed, i guess; unwholesome all the way round.” i was not in a condition to dispute this. i like a fourposter with curtains at head and feet; not that i ever draw them, but it gives a sense of privacy that is wanting in one of your half-tester beds. if there is a window at one's feet, one can lie in bed without the glare in one's eyes, and yet without darkening the room by drawing the blinds. there is much to be said for a fourposter, but this is not the place in which to say it. mr. square pulled his hands out of his pockets and began fiddling with the electric point near the head of my bed, attached a wire, swept it in a semicircle along the floor, and then thrust the knob at the end into my hand in the bed. "keep your eye open," said he, "and your hand shut and covered. if that finger comes again tickling your ribs, try it with the point. i'll manage the switch, from behind the curtain.” then he disappeared. i was too indifferent in my misery to turn my head and observe where he was. i remained inert, with the knob in my hand, and my eyes closed, suffering and thinking of nothing but the shooting pains through my head and the aches in my loins and back and legs. some time probably elapsed before i felt the finger again at work at my ribs; it groped, but no longer bored. i now felt the entire hand, not a single finger, and the hand was substantial, cold, and clammy. i was aware, how, i know not, that if the finger-point reached the region of my heart, on the left side, the hand would, so to speak, sit down on it, with the cold palm over it, and that then immediately my heart would cease to beat, and it a dead finger 293 would be, as square might express it, "gone coon" with me. in self-preservation i brought up the knob of the electric wire against the hand against one of the fingers, i think -and at once was aware of a rapping, squealing noise. i turned my head languidly, and saw the form, now more substantial than before, capering in an ecstasy of pain, endeavouring fruitlessly to withdraw its arm from under the bedclothes, and the hand from the electric point. at the same moment square stepped from behind the curtain, with a dry laugh, and said: “i thought we should fix him. he has the coil about him, and can't escape. now let us drop to particulars. but i shan't let you off till i know all about you.” the last sentence was addressed, not to me, but to the apparition. thereupon he bade me take the point away from the hand of the figure—being—whatever it was, but to be ready with it at a moment's notice. he then proceeded to catechise my visitor, who moved restlessly within the circle of wire, but could not escape from it. it replied in a thin, squealing voice that sounded as if it came from a distance, and had a querulous tone in it. i do not pretend to give all that was said. i cannot recollect everything that passed. my memory was affected by my illness, as well as my body. yet i prefer giving the scraps that i recollect to what square told me he had heard. “yes~i was unsuccessful, always was. nothing answered with me. the world was against me. society was. i hate society. i don't like work neither, never did, but i like agitating against what is established. i hate the royal family, the landed interest, the parsons, everything that is, except the people—that is, the unemployed. i always did. i couldn't get work as suited me. when i died they buried me in a cheap coffin, dirt cheap, and gave me a nasty grave, cheap, and a service rattled away 294 a book of ghosts cheap, and no monument. didn't want none. oh! there are lots of us. all discontented. discontent! that's a passion, it is—it gets into the veins, it fills the brain, it occupies the heart; it's a sort of divine cancer that takes possession of the entire man, and makes him dissatisfied with everything, and hate everybody. but we must have our share of happiness at some time. we all crave for it in one way or other. some think there's a future state of blessedness and so have hope, and look to attain to it, for hope is a cable and anchor that attaches to what is real. but when you have no hope of that sort, don't believe in any future state, you must look for happiness in life here. we didn't get it when we were alive, so we seek to procure it after we are dead. we can do it, if we can get out of our cheap and nasty coffins. but not till the greater part of us is mouldered away. if a finger or two remains, that can work its way up to the surface, those cheap deal coffins go to pieces quick enough. then the only solid part of us left can pull the rest of us that has gone to nothing after it. then we grope about after the living. the well-to-do if we can get at them—the honest working poor if we can't-we hate them too, because they are content and happy. if we reach any of these, and can touch them, then we can draw their vital force out of them into ourselves, and recuperate at their expense. that was about what i was going to do with you. getting on famous. nearly solidified into a new man; and given another chance in life. but i've missed it this time. just like my luck. miss everything. always have, except misery and disappointment. get plenty of that." "what are you all ?” asked square. “anarchists out of employ?" "some of us go by that name, some by other designations, but we are all one, and own allegiance to but one monarch-sovereign discontent. we are bred to have a distaste for manual work; and we grow up loafers, a dead finger 295 grumbling at everything and quarrelling with society that is around us and the providence that is above us.” “and what do you call yourselves now?". “call ourselves ? nothing; we are the same, in another condition, that is all. folk called us once anarchists, nihilists, socialists, levellers, now they call us the influenza. the learned talk of microbes, and bacilli, and bacteria. microbes, bacilli, and bacteria be blowed! we are the influenza; we the social failures, the generally discontented, coming up out of our cheap and nasty graves in the form of physical disease. we are the influenza.” “there you are, i guess !” exclaimed square triumphantly. “did i not say that all forces were correlated ? if so, then all negations, deficiences of force are one in their several manifestations. talk of divine discontent as a force impelling to progress! rubbish, it is a paralysis of energy. it turns all it absorbs to acid, to envy, spite, gall. it inspires nothing, but rots the whole moral system. here you have it-moral, social, political discontent in another form, nay aspect—that is all. what anarchism is in the body politic, that influenza is in the body physical. do you see that ?" “ye-e-s-e-s," i believe i answered, and dropped away into the land of dreams. i recovered. what square did with the thing i know not, but believe that he reduced it again to its former negative and self-decomposing condition. black ram i do not know when i had spent a more pleasant i evening, or had enjoyed a dinner more than that at mr. weatherwood's hospitable house. for one thing, the hostess knew how to keep her guests interested and in good-humour. the dinner was all that could be desired, and so were the wines. but what conduced above all to my pleasure was that at table i sat by miss fulton, a bright, intelligent girl, well read and entertaining. my wife had a cold, and had sent her excuses by me. miss fulton and i talked of this, that, and every thing. towards the end of dinner she said: “i shall be obliged to run away so soon as the ladies leave the room to you and your cigarettes and gossip. it is rather mean, but mrs. weatherwood has been forewarned, and understands. to-morrow is our village feast at marksleigh, and i have a host of things on my hand. i shall have to be up at seven, and i do object to cut a slice off my night's rest at both ends." “rather an unusual time of the year for a village feast,” said i. “these things are generally got over in the summer.” “you see, our church is dedicated to st. mark, and tomorrow is his festival, and it has been observed in one fashion or another in our parish from time immemorial. in your parts have they any notions about st. mark's eve?" “what sort of notions?". “that if you sit in the church porch from midnight till the clock strikes one, you will see the apparitions pass before you of those destined to die within the year.” 296 black ram 297 "i fancy our good people see themselves, and nothing but themselves, on every day and hour throughout the twelvemonth." "joking apart, have you any such superstition hanging on in your neighbourhood ?” "not that i am aware of. that sort of thing belonged to the golden age that has passed away. board schools have reduced us to that of lead.” "at marksleigh the villagers believe in it, and recently their faith has received corroboration.” "how so?” i asked. “ last year, in a fit of bravado, a young carpenter ventured to sit in the porch at the witching hour, and saw himself enter the church. he came home, looking as blank as a sheet, moped, lost flesh, and died nine months later." “of course he died, if he had made up his mind to do so." “yes—that is explicable. but how do you account for his having seen his double?” "he had been drinking at the public-house. a good many people see double after that.” “it was not so. he was perfectly sober at the time." “ then i give it up." “would you venture on a visit to a church porch on this night-st. mark's eve?". “certainly i would, if well wrapped up, and i had my pipes bar the pipe," sai but there is. li shall be gone. ill late. “i bar the pipe," said miss fulton. “no apparition can stand tobacco smoke. but there is lady eastleigh rising. when you come to rejoin the ladies, i shall be gone." i did not leave the house of the weatherwoods till late. my dogcart was driven by my groom, richard. the night was cold, or rather chilly, but i had my fur-lined overcoat, and did not mind that. the stars shone out of a frosty sky. all went smoothly enough till the road 298 a book of ghosts dipped into a valley, where a dense white fog hung over the river and the water-meadows. anyone who has had much experience in driving at night is aware that in such a case the carriage lamps are worse than useless; they bewilder the horse and the driver. i cannot blame dick if he ran his wheel over a heap of stones that upset the trap. we were both thrown out, and i fell on my head. i sang out: "mind the cob, dick; i am all right.” the boy at once mastered the horse. i did not rise immediately, for i had been somewhat jarred by the fall; when i did i found dick engaged in mending a ruptured trace. one of the shafts was broken, and a carriage lamp had been shattered. "dick," said i, “there are a couple of steep hills to descend, and that is risky with a single shaft. i will lighten the dogcart by walking home, and do you take care at the hills.” “i think we can manage, sir." “i should prefer to walk the rest of the way. i am rather shaken by my fall, and a good step out in the cool night will do more to put me to rights than anything else. when you get home, send up a message to your mistress that she is not to expect me at once. i shall arrive in due time, and she is not to be alarmed." “it's a good trudge before you, sir. and i dare say we could get the shaft tied up at fifewell." “what—at this time of night? no, dick, do as i say." accordingly the groom drove off, and i started on my walk. i was glad to get out of the clinging fog, when i reached higher ground. i looked back, and by the starlight saw the river bottom filled with the mist, lying apparently dense as snow. after a swinging walk of a quarter of an hour i entered the outskirts of fifewell, a village of some importance, with shops, the seat of the petty sessions, and with a small boot and shoe factory in it. black ram 299 the street was deserted. some bedroom windows were lighted, for our people have the habit of burning their paraffin lamps all night. every door was shut, no one was stirring. as i passed along the churchyard wall, the story of the young carpenter, told by miss fulton, recurred to me. “by jove !” thought i, “it is now close upon midnight, a rare opportunity for me to see the wonders of st. mark's eve. i will go into the porch and rest there for a few minutes, and then i shall be able, when i meet that girl again, to tell her that i had done what she challenged me to do, without any idea that i would take her challenge up." i turned in at the gate, and walked up the pathway. the headstones bore a somewhat ghostly look in the starlight. a cross of white stone, recently set up, i supposed, had almost the appearance of phosphorescence. the church windows were dark. i seated myself in the roomy porch on a stone bench against the wall, and felt for my pipe. i am not sure that i contemplated smoking it then and there, partly because miss fulton had forbidden it, but also because i felt that it was not quite the right thing to do on consecrated ground. but it would be a satisfaction to finger it, and i might plug it, so as to be ready to light up so soon as i left the churchyard. to my vexation i found that i had lost it. the tobacco-pouch was there, and the matches. my pipe must have fallen out of my pocket when i was pitched from the trap. that pipe was a favourite of mine. "what a howling nuisance,” said i. “if i send dick back over the road to-morrow morning, ten chances to one if he finds it, for to-morrow is market-day, and people will be passing early.” as i said this, the clock struck twelve. i counted each stroke. i wore my fur-lined coat, and was not cold-in fact, i had been too warm walking in it. 300 a book of ghosts at the last stroke of twelve i noticed lines of very brilliant light appear about the door into the church. the door must have fitted well, as the light did no more than show about it, and did not gush forth at all the crevices. but from the keyhole shot a ray of intense brilliancy. whether the church windows were illumined i did not see-in fact, it did not occur to me to look, either then or later-but i am pretty certain that they were not, or the light streaming from them would have brought the gravestones into prominence. when you come to think of it, it was remarkable that the light of so dazzling a nature should shine through the crannies of the door, and that none should issue, as far as i could see, from the windows. at the time i did not give this a thought; my attention was otherwise taken up. for i saw distinctly miss venville, a very nice girl of my acquaintance, coming up the path with that swinging walk so characteristic of an english young lady. how often it has happened to me, when i have been sitting in a public park or in the gardens of a cursaal abroad, and some young girls have passed by, that i have said to my wife : “i bet you a bob those are english." “yes, of course,” she has replied ; "you can see that by their dress.” "i don't know anything about dress," i have said; “i judge by the walk.” well, there was miss venville coming towards the porch. “this is a joke,” said i. “she is going to sit here on the look-out for ghosts, and if i stand up or speak she will be scared out of her wits. häng it, i wish i had my pipe now; if i gave a whiff it would reveal the presence of a mortal, without alarming her. i think i shall whistle." i had screwed up my lips to begin "rocked in the cradle of the deep"—that is my great song i perform whenever there is a village concert, or i am asked out to dinner, and am entreated afterwards to sing—i say i had black ram 301 screwed up my lips to whistle, when i saw something that scared me so that i made no attempt at the melody. the ray of light through the keyhole was shut off, and i saw standing in the porch before me the form of mrs. venville, the girl's mother, who had died two years before. the ray of white light arrested by her filled her as a lamp-was diffused as a mild glow from her. “halloo, mother, what brings you here?” asked the girl. "gwendoline, i have come to warn you back. you cannot enter ; you have not got the key." “the key, mother?”. “yes, everyone who would pass within must have his or her own key." “well, where am i to get one?". "it must be forged for you, gwen. you are wholly unfit to enter. what good have you ever done to deserve it?" "why, mother, everyone knows i'm an awfully good sort.” “no one in here knows it. that is no qualification." "and i always dressed in good taste." “nor is that.” “and i was splendid at lawn tennis." her mother shook her head. “look here, little mummy. i won a brooch at the archery match." "that will not do, gwendoline. what good have you ever done to anyone else beside yourself?”. the girl considered a minute, then laughed, and said: “i put into a raffle at a bazaar-no, it was a bran-pie for an orphanage-and i drew out a pair of braces. i had rare fun over those braces, i sold them to captain fitzakerly for half a crown, and that i gave to the charity.” “you went for what you could get, not what you could give.” 302 a book of ghosts then the mother stepped on one side, and the ray shot directly at the girl. i saw that it had something of the quality of the x-ray. it was not arrested by her garments, or her flesh or muscles. it revealed in her breast, in her brain-penetrating her whole body—a hard, dark core. “black ram, i bet,” said i. now black ram is the local name for a substance found in our land, especially in the low ground that ought to be the most fertile, but is not so, on account of this material found in it. the substance lies some two or three feet below the surface, and forms a crust of the consistency of cast iron. no plough can possibly be driven through it. no water can percolate athwart it, and consequently where it is, there the superincumbent soil is resolved into a quagmire. no tree can grow in it, for the moment the taproot touches the black ram the tree dies. of what black ram consists is more than i can say; the popular opinion is that it is a bastard manganese. now i happen to own several fields accursed with the presence in them of black ram-fields that ought to be luxuriant meadows, but which, in consequence of its presence, are worth almost nothing at all. “no, gwen,” said her mother, looking sorrowfully at her, “there is not a chance of your admission till you have got rid of the black ram that is in you." "sure,” said i, as i slapped my knee, “ i thought i knew the article, and now my opinion has been confirmed." “how can i get rid of it?" asked the girl. "gwendoline, you will have to pass into little polly finch, and work it out of your system. she is dying of scarlet fever, and you must enter into her body, and so rid yourself in time of the black ram.” “mother !-the finches are common people.” “so much the better chance for you." black ram 303 “and i am eighteen, polly is about ten." "you will have to become a little child if you would enter here." "i don't like it. what is the alternative?”. “to remain without in the darkness till you come to a better mind. and now, gwen, no time is to be lost; you must pass into polly finch's body before it grows cold.” "well, then-here goes !” gwen venville turned, and her mother accompanied her down the path. the girl moved reluctantly, and pouted. passing out of the churchyard, both traversed the street and disappeared within a cottage, from the upper window of which light from behind a white blind was diffused. i did not follow, i leaned back against the wall. i felt that my head was throbbing. i was a little afraid lest my fall had done more injury than i had at first anticipated. i put my hand to my head, and held it there for a moment. then it was as though a book were opened before methe book of the life of polly finch-or rather of gwendoline's soul in polly finch’s body. it was but one page that i saw, and the figures in it were moving. the girl was struggling under the burden of a heavy baby brother. she coaxed him, she sang to him, she played with him, talked to him, broke off bits of her bread and butter, given to her for breakfast, and made him eat them; she wiped his nose and eyes with her pockethandkerchief, she tried to dance him in her arms. he was a fractious urchin, and most exacting, but her patience, her good-nature, never failed. the drops stood on her brow, and her limbs tottered under the weight, but her heart was strong, and her eyes shone with love. i drew my hand from my head. it was burning. i put my hand to the cold stone bench to cool it, and then applied it once more to my brow. instantly it was as though another page were revealed. i saw polly in her widowed father's cottage. she was 304 a book of ghosts now a grown girl; she was on her knees scrubbing the floor. a bell tinkled. then she put down the soap and brush, turned down her sleeves, rose and went into the outer shop to serve a customer with half a pound of tea. that done, she was back again, and the scrubbing was renewed. again a tinkle, and again she stood up and went into the shop to a child who desired to buy a pennyworth of lemon drops. on her return, in came her little brother crying—he had cut his finger. polly at once applied cobweb, and then stitched a rag about the wounded member. “there, there, tommy! don't cry any more. i have kissed the bad place, and it will soon be well.” “poll! it hurts ! it hurts !” sobbed the boy. “come to me," said his sister. she drew a low chair to the fireside, took tommy on her lap, and began to tell him the story of jack the giant-killer. i removed my hand, and the vision was gone. i put my other hand to my head, and at once saw a further scene in the life-story of polly. she was now a middle-aged woman, and had a cottage of her own. she was despatching her children to school. they had bright, rosy faces, their hair was neatly combed, their pinafores were white as snow. one after another, before leaving, put up the cherry lips to kiss mammy; and when they were gone, for a moment she stood in the door looking after them, then sharply turned, brought out a basket, and emptied its contents on the table. there were little girls' stockings with “potatoes” in them to be darned, torn jackets to be mended, a little boy's trousers to be reseated, pocket-handkerchiefs to be hemmed. she laboured on with her needle the greater part of the day, then put away the garments, some finished, others to be finished, and going to the flour-bin took forth flour and began to knead dough, and then to roll it out to make pasties for her husband and the children. black ram 305 “ poll!” called a voice from without; she ran to the door. “back, joe! i have your dinner hot in the oven.” “i must say, poll, you are the best of good wives, and there isn't a mother like you in the shire. my word! that was a lucky day when i chose you, and didn't take mary matters, who was setting her cap at me. see what a slattern she has turned out. why, i do believe, poll, if i'd took her she'd have drove me long ago to the public-house." i saw the mother of gwendoline standing by me and looking out on this scene, and i heard her say: "the black ram is run out, and the key is forged." all had vanished. i thought now i might as well rise and continue my journey. but before i had left the bench i observed the rector of fifewell sauntering up the path, with uncertain step, as he fumbled in his coat-tail pockets, and said: “where the deuce is the key ?” the reverend william hexworthy was a man of good private means, and was just the sort of man that a bishop delights to honour. he was one who would never cause him an hour's anxiety; he was not the man to indulge in ecclesiastical vagaries. he flattered himself that he was strictly a via media man. he kept dogs, he was a good judge of horses, was fond of sport. he did not hunt, but he shot and fished. he was a favourite in society, was of irreproachable conduct, and was a magistrate on the bench. as the ray from the keyhole smote on him he seemed to be wholly dark,-made up of nothing but black ram. he came on slowly, as though not very sure of his way. “bless me! where can be the key ?” he asked. then from out of the graves, and from over the wall of the churchyard, came rushing up a crowd of his dead parishioners, and blocked his way to the porch. “please, your reverence!” said one, "you did not visit me when i was dying." "i sent you a bottle of my best port,” said the parson. “ay, sir, and thank you for it. but that went into my 306 a book of ghosts stomick, and what i wanted was medicine for my soul. you never said a prayer by me. you never urged me to repentance for my bad life, and you let me go out of the world with all my sins about me." “and i, sir," said another, thrusting himself before mr. hexworthy—“i was a young man, sir, going wild, and you never said a word to restrain me; never sent for me and gave me a bit of warning and advice which would have checked me. you just shrugged your shoulders and laughed, and said that a young chap like me must sow his wild oats." "and we,” shouted the rest—"we were never taught by you anything at all." "now this is really too bad," said the rector. “i preached twice every sunday.” "oh, yes-right enough that. but precious little good it did when nothing came out of your heart, and all out of your pocket—and that you did give us was copied in your library. why, sir, not one of your sermons ever did anybody a farthing of good.” "we were your sheep,” protested others, “and you let us wander where we would! you didn't seem to know yourself that there was a fold into which to draw us." "and we,” said others, “went off to chapel, and all the good we ever got was from the dissenting minister-never a mite from you." "and some of us," cried out others, “went to the bad altogether, through your neglect. what did you care about our souls so long as your terriers were washed and combed, and your horses well groomed ? you were a fisherman, but all you fished for were trout-not souls. and if some of us turned out well, it was in spite of your neglect—no thanks to you." then some children's voices were raised : “sir, you never taught us no catechism, nor our duty to god and to man, and we grew up regular heathens." black ram 307 "that was your fathers and mothers' duty." “but our fathers and mothers never taught us anythings come of the “come, this is intolerable,” shouted mr. hexworthy. “get out of the way, all of you. i can't be bothered with you now. i want to go in there." "you can't, parson ! the door is shut, and you have not got your key." mr. hexworthy stood bewildered and irresolute. he rubbed his chin. “what the dickens am i to do?” he asked. then the crowd closed about him, and thrust him back towards the gate. “you must go whither we send you," they said. i stood up to follow. it was curious to see a flock drive its shepherd, who, indeed, had never attempted to lead. i walked in the rear, and it seemed as though we were all swept forward as by a mighty wind. i did not gain my breath, or realise whither i was going, till i found myself in the slums of a large manufacturing town before a mean house such as those occupied by artisans, with the conventional one window on one side of the door and two windows above. out of one of these latter shone a scarlet glow. the crowd hustled mr. hexworthy in at the door, which was opened by a hospital nurse. i stood hesitating what to do, and not understanding what had taken place. on the opposite side of the street was a mission church, and the windows were lighted. i entered, and saw that there were at least a score of people, shabbily dressed, and belonging to the lowest class, on their knees in prayer. there was a sort of door-opener or verger at the entrance, and i said to him: “what is the meaning of all this?”. "oh, sir !" said he," he is ill, he has been attacked by smallpox. it has been raging in the place, and he has 308 a book of ghosts been with all the sick, and now he has taken it himself, and we are terribly afraid that he is dying. so we are praying god to spare him to us." then one of those who was kneeling turned to me and said: “i was an hungred, and he gave me meat.” and another rose up and said: "i was a stranger, and he took me in." then a third said: “i was naked, and he clothed me." and a fourth : "i was sick, and he visited me." then said a fifth, with bowed head, sobbing: “i was in prison, and he came to me." thereupon i went out and looked up at the red window, and i felt as if i must see the man for whom so many prayed. i tapped at the door, and a woman opened. "i should so much like to see him, if i may," said i. "well, sir," spoke the woman, a plain, middle-aged, rough creature, but her eyes were full of tears: “oh, sir, i think you may, if you will go up softly. there has come over him a great change. it is as though a new life had entered into him." i mounted the narrow staircase of very steep steps and entered the sick-room. there was an all-pervading glow of red. the fire was low-no flame, and a screen was before it. the lamp had a scarlet shade over it. i stepped to the side of the bed, where stood a nurse. i looked on the patient. he was an awful object. his face had been smeared over with some dark solution, with the purpose of keeping all light from the skin, with the object of saving it from permanent disfigurement. the sick priest lay with eyes raised, and i thought i saw in them those of mr. hexworthy, but with a new light, a new faith, a new fervour, a new love in them. the lips were moving in prayer, and the hands were folded over the breast. the nurse whispered to me: "we thought he was passing away, but the prayers of those he loved have prevailed. a great change has come over him. black ram 309 the last words he spoke were : 'god's will be done. if i live, i will live only-only for my dear sheep, and die among them'; and now he is in an ecstasy, and says nothing. but he is praying still—for his people." as i stood looking i saw what might have been tears, but seemed to be molten black ram, roll over the painted cheeks. the spirit of mr. hexworthy was in this body. then, without a word, i turned to the door, went through, groped my way down the steps, passed out into the street, and found myself back in the porch of fifewell church. "upon my word,” said i, “i have been here long enough.” i wrapped my fur coat about me, and prepared to go, when i saw a well-known figure, that of mr. fothergill, advancing up the path. i knew the old gentleman well. his age must have been seventy. he was a spare man, he was rather bald, and had sunken cheeks. he was a bachelor, living in a pretty little villa of his own. he had a good fortune, and was a harmless, but self-centred, old fellow. he prided himself on his cellar and his cook. he always dressed well, and was scrupulously neat. i had often played a game of chess with him. i would have run towards him to remonstrate with him for exposing himself to the night air, but i was forestalled. slipping past me, his old manservant, david, went to meet him. david had died three years before. mr. fothergill had then been dangerously ill with typhoid fever, and the man had attended to him night and day. the old gentleman, as i heard, had been most irritable and exacting in his illness. when his malady took a turn, and he was on the way to convalescence, david had succumbed in his turn, and in three days was dead. this man now met his master, touched his cap, and said : “beg pardon, sir, you will not be admitted.” “not admitted? why not, davie?" “i really am very sorry, sir. if my key would have 310 a book of ghosts availed, you would have been welcome to it; but, sir, there's such a terrible lot of black ram in you, sir. that must be got out first.” “i don't understand, davie.” " i'm sorry, sir, to have to say it; but you've never done anyone any good.” "i paid you your wages regularly." “yes, sir, to be sure, sir, for my services to yourself.” “and i've always subscribed when asked for money." “yes, that is very true, sir, but that was because you thought it was expected of you, not because you had any sympathy with those in need, and sickness, and suffering." " i'm sure i never did anyone any harm." “no, sir, and never anyone any good. you'll excuse me for mentioning it.” “but, davie, what do you mean? i can't get in ?" “no, sir, not till you have the key." “but, bless my soul! what is to become of me? am i to stick out here?”. “yes, sir, unless " “in this damp, and cold, and darkness ?” “ there is no help for it, mr. fothergill, unless ” “unless what, davie?". “unless you become a mother, sir !” “what?" “of twins, sir." “fiddlesticks !” "indeed, it is so, sir, and you will have to nurse them." “i can't do it. i'm physically incapable." “it must be done, sir. very sorry to mention it, but there is no alternative. there's sally bowker is approaching her confinement, and it's going terribly hard with her. the doctor thinks she'll never pull through. but if you'd consent to pass into her and become a mother ” "and nurse the twins? oh, davie, i shall need a great amount of stout.” twins ? on come a mother but if you'd black ram 311 “i grieve to say it, mr. fothergill, but you'll be too poor to afford it.” “is there no alternative ?" “none in the world, sir.” “i don't know my way to the place.” “if you'd do me the honour, sir, to take my arm, i would lead you to the house." “it's hard-cruel hard on an old bachelor. must it be twins? it's a rather large order." “it really must, sir.” then i saw david lend his arm to his former master and conduct him out of the churchyard, across the street, into the house of seth bowker, the shoemaker. i was so interested in the fate of my old friend, and so curious as to the result, that i followed, and went into the cobbler's house. i found myself in the little room on the ground floor. seth bowker was sitting over the fire with his face in his hands, swaying himself, and moaning : “oh dear! dear life! whatever shall i do without her? and she the best woman as breathed, and knew all my little ways." overhead was a trampling. the doctor and the midwife were with the woman. seth looked up, and listened. then he flung himself on his knees at the deal table, and prayed : “oh, good god in heaven! have pity on me, and spare me my wife. i shall be a lost man without her—and no one to sew on my shirt-buttons !” at the moment i heard a feeble twitter aloft, then it grew in volume, and presently became cries. seth looked up; his face was bathed in tears. still that strange sound like the chirping of sparrows. he rose to his feet and made for the stairs, and held on to the banister. forth from the chamber above came the doctor, and leisurely descended the stairs. "well, bowker,” said he, “i congratulate you; you have two fine boys." “and my sally-my wife?” 312 a book of ghosts “she has pulled through. but really, upon my soul, i did fear for her at one time. but she rallied marvellously." “can i go up to her ?” “in a minute or two, not just now, the babes are being washed.” "and my wife will get over it?” “i trust so, bowker; a new life came into her as she gave birth to twins." “god be praised !” seth's mouth quivered, all his face worked, and he clasped his hands. presently the door of the chamber upstairs was opened, the nurse looked down, and said : “mr. bowker, you may come up. your wife wants you. lawk! you will see the beautifullest twins that ever was." i followed seth upstairs, and entered the sick-room. it was humble enough, with whitewashed walls, all scrupulously clean. the happy mother lay in the bed, her pale face on the pillow, but the eyes were lighted up with ineffable love and pride. “kiss them, bowker," said she, exhibiting at her side two little pink heads, with down on them. but her husband just stooped and pressed his lips to her brow, and after that kissed the tiny morsels at her side. “ain't they loves !” exclaimed the midwife. but oh! what a rapture of triumph, pity, fervour, love, was in that mother's face, and—the eyes looking on those children were the eyes of mr. fothergill. never had i seen such an expression in them, not even when he had exclaimed “checkmate" over a game of chess. then i knew what would follow. how night and day that mother would live only for her twins, how she would cheerfully sacrifice her night's rest to them; how she would go downstairs, even before it was judicious, to see to her husband's meals. verily, with the mother's milk that fed those babes, the black ram would run out of the fothergill soul. there was no need for me to tarry. i black ram 313 went forth, and as i issued into the street heard the clock strike one. “bless me!" i exclaimed, “i have spent an hour in the porch. what will my wife say?” i walked home as fast as i could in my fur coat. when i arrived i found bessie up. "oh, bessie !" said i,“ with your cold you ought to have been in bed.” “my dear edward,” she replied, “how could i? i had lain down, but when i heard of the accident i could not rest. have you been hurt?”. "my head is somewhat contused," i replied. “let me feel. indeed, it is burning. i will put on some cold compresses." “but, bessie, i have a story to tell you." "oh! never mind the story, we'll have that another day. i'll send for some ice from the fishmonger to-morrow for your head.” i did eventually tell my wife the story of my experience in the porch of fifewell on st. mark's eve. i have since regretted that i did so; for whenever i cross her will, or express my determination to do something of which she does not approve, she says: “edward, edward ! i very much fear there is still in you too much black ram." a happy release n r. benjamin woolfield was a widower, iv for twelve months he put on mourning. the mourning was external, and by no means represented the condition of his feelings; for his married life had not been happy. he and kesiah had been unequally yoked together. the mosaic law forbade the union of the ox and the ass to draw one plough; and two more uncongenial creatures than benjamin and kesiah could hardly have been coupled to draw the matrimonial furrow. she was a plymouth sister, and he, as she repeatedly informed him whenever he indulged in light reading, laughed, smoked, went out shooting, or drank a glass of wine, was of the earth, earthy, and a miserable worldling. for some years mr. woolfield had been made to feel as though he were a moral and religious pariah. kesiah had invited to the house and to meals, those of her own way of thinking, and on such occasions had spared no pains to have the table well served, for the elect are particular about their feeding, if indifferent as to their drinks. on such occasions, moreover, when benjamin had sat at the bottom of his own table, he had been made to feel that he was a worm to be trodden on. the topics of conversation were such as were far beyond his horizon, and concerned matters of which he was ignorant. he attempted at intervals to enter into the circle of talk. he knew that such themes as football matches, horse races, and cricket were taboo, but he did suppose that home or foreign politics might interest the guests of kesiah. but he soon 314 a happy release 315 learned that this was not the case, unless such matters tended to the fulfilment of prophecy. when, however, in his turn, benjamin invited home to dinner some of his old friends, he found that all provided for them was hashed mutton, cottage pie, and tapioca pudding. but even these could have been stomached, had not mrs. woolfield sat stern and silent at the head of the table, not uttering a word, but giving vent to occasional, very audible sighs. when the year of mourning was well over, mr. woolfield put on a light suit, and contented himself, as an indication of bereavement, with a slight black band round the left arm. he also began to look about him for someone who might make up for the years during which he had felt like a crushed strawberry and in casting his inquiring eye about, it lighted upon philippa weston, a bright, vigorous young lady, well educated and intelligent. she was aged twenty-four and he was but eighteen years older, a difference on the right side. it took mr. woolfield but a short courtship to reach an understanding, and he became engaged. on the same evening upon which he had received a satisfactory answer to the question put to her, and had pressed for an early marriage, to which also consent had been accorded, he sat by his study fire, with his hands on his knees, looking into the embers and building love-castles there. then he smiled and patted his knees. he was startled from his honey reveries by a sniff. he looked round. there was a familiar ring in that sniff which was unpleasant to him. what he then saw dissipated his rosy dreams, and sent his blood to his heart. at the table sat his kesiah, looking at him with her beady black eyes, and with stern lines in her face. he was so startled and shocked that he could not speak. 316 a book of ghosts “ benjamin," said the apparition, “i know your purpose. it shall never be carried to accomplishment. i will prevent it." "prevent what, my love, my treasure ?” he gathered up his faculties to reply. “it is in vain that you assume that infantile look of innocence," said his deceased wife. “you shall neverneverlead her to the hymeneal altar," "lead whom, my idol? you astound me.” "i know all. i can read your heart. a lost being though you be, you have still me to watch over you. when you quit this earthly tabernacle, if you have given up taking in the field, and have come to realise your fallen condition, there is a chance—a distant chance—but yet one of our union becoming eternal." “you don't mean to say so," said mr. woolfield, his jaw falling. “there is—there is that to look to. that to lead you to turn over a new leaf. but it can never be if you become united to that flibbertigibbet." mentally, benjamin said: "i must hurry up with my marriage!” vocally he said : “dear me! dear me!" . "my care for you is still so great,” continued the apparition, “that i intend to haunt you by night and by day, till that engagement be broken off.” "i would not put you to so much trouble," said he. “it is my duty," replied the late mrs. woolfield sternly. “you are oppressively kind,” sighed the widower. at dinner that evening mr. woolfield had a friend to keep him company, a friend to whom he had poured out his heart. to his dismay, he saw seated opposite him the form of his deceased wife. he tried to be lively; he cracked jokes, but the sight of the grim face and the stony eyes riveted on him damped his spirits, and all his mirth died away. “you seem to be out of sorts to-night," said his friend. a happy release 317 "i am sorry that i act so bad a host," apologised mr. woolfield. "two is company, three is none." “but we are only two here to-night." “my wife is with me in spirit.” “which, she that was, or she that is to be?” mr. woolfield looked with timid eyes towards her who sat at the end of the table. she was raising her hands in holy horror, and her face was black with frowns. his friend said to himself when he left: “oh, these lovers! they are never themselves so long as the fit lasts." mr. woolfield retired early to bed. when a man has screwed himself up to proposing to a lady, it has taken a great deal out of him, and nature demands rest. it was so with benjamin ; he was sleepy. a nice little fire burned in his grate. he undressed and slipped between the sheets. before he put out the light he became aware that the late mrs. woolfield was standing by his bedside with a nightcap on her head. "i am cold," said she, “bitterly cold.” "i am sorry to hear it, my dear,” said benjamin. “ the grave is cold as ice," she said. "i am going to step into bed.” "no-never !” exclaimed the widower, sitting up. “it won't do. it really won't. you will draw all the vital heat out of me, and i shall be laid up with rheumatic fever. it will be ten times worse than damp sheets." "i am coming to bed,” repeated the deceased lady, inflexible as ever in carrying out her will. as she stepped in mr. woolfield crept out on the side of the fire and seated himself by the grate. he sat there some considerable time, and then, feeling cold, he fetched his dressing-gown and enveloped himself in that. he looked at the bed. in it lay the deceased lady with 318 a book of ghosts her long slit of a mouth shut like a rat-trap, and her hard eyes fixed on him. "it is of no use your thinking of marrying, benjamin," she said. “i shall haunt you till you give it up." mr. woolfield sat by his fire all night, and only dozed off towards morning. during the day he called at the house of miss weston, and was shown into the drawing-room. but there, standing behind her chair, was his deceased wife with her arms folded on the back of the seat, glowering at him. it was impossible for the usual tender passages to ensue between the lovers with a witness present, expressing by gesture her disapproval of such matters and her inflexible determination to force on a rupture. the dear departed did not attend mr. woolfield continuously during the day, but appeared at intervals. he could never say when he would be free, when she would not turn up. in the evening he rang for the housemaid. “jemima," he said, “put two hot bottles into my bed to-night. it is somewhat chilly.” “yes, sir." “and let the water be boiling—not with the chill off.” “yes, sir." when somewhat late mr. woolfield retired to his room he found, as he had feared, that his late wife was there before him. she lay in the bed with her mouth snapped, her eyes like black balls, staring at him. “my dear,” said benjamin, “i hope you are more comfortable." " i'm cold, deadly cold.” “but i trust you are enjoying the hot bottles.” “ i lack animal heat,” replied the late mrs. woolfield. benjamin fled the room and returned to his study, where he unlocked his spirit case and filled his pipe. the fire was burning. he made it up. he would sit there all a the ing at i hop a happy release 319 night. during the passing hours, however, he was not left quite alone. at intervals the door was gently opened, and the night-capped head of the late mrs. woolfield was thrust in. “don't think, benjamin, that your engagement will lead to anything,” she would say, “because it will not. i shall stop it." so time passed. mr. woolfield found it impossible to escape this persecution. he lost spirits ; he lost flesh. at last, after sad thought, he saw but one way of relief, and that was to submit. and in order to break off the engagement he must have a prolonged interview with philippa. he went to the theatre and bought two stall tickets, and sent one to her with the earnest request that she would accept it and meet him that evening at the theatre. he had something to communicate of the utmost importance. at the theatre he knew that he would be safe; the principles of kesiah would not suffer her to enter there, at the proper time mr. woolfield drove round to miss weston's, picked her up, and together they went to the theatre and took their places in the stalls. their seats were side by side. "i am so glad you have been able to come,” said benjamin. “i have a most shocking disclosure to make to you. i am afraid that—but i hardly know how to say it—that i really must break it off.” “break what off?". "our engagement." “nonsense. i have been fitted for my trousseau.” “ your what?" “ my wedding-dresses." “oh, i beg pardon. i did not understand your french pronunciation. i thought—but it does not matter what i thought.” “pray what is the sense of this ?" 320 a book of ghosts “philippa, my affection for you is unabated. do not suppose that i love you one whit the less. but i am oppressed by a horrible nightmare-daymare as well. i am haunted." "haunted, indeed!” “yes; by my late wife. she allows me no peace. she has made up her mind that i shall not marry you." “oh! is that all? i am haunted also.” “surely not?" “it is a fact." “hush, hush !" from persons in front and at the side. neither ben nor philippa had noticed that the curtain had risen and that the play had begun. “we are disturbing the audience,” whispered mr. woolfield. “let us go out into the passage and promenade there, and then we can talk freely." so both rose, left their stalls, and went into the couloir. “look here, philippa," said he, offering the girl his arm, which she took, “the case is serious. i am badgered out of my reason, out of my health, by the late mrs. woolfield. she always had an iron will, and she has intimated to me that she will force me to give you up." “defy her.” “i cannot." “tut! these ghosts are exacting. give them an inch and they take an ell. they are like old servants; if you yield to them they tyrannise over you.” . “but how do you know, philippa, dearest?” “because, as i said, i also am haunted." “that only makes the matter more hopeless." “on the contrary, it only shows how well suited we are to each other. we are in one box." “philippa, it is a dreadful thing. when my wife was dying she told me she was going to a better world, and that we should never meet again. and she has not kept her word.” a happy release 32 1 the girl laughed. “rag her with it.” “how can i?” “you can do it perfectly. ask her why she is left out in the cold. give her a piece of your mind. make it unpleasant for her. i give jehu no good time." “who is jehu ?" " jehu post is the ghost who haunts me. when in the flesh he was a great admirer of mine, and in his cumbrous way tried to court me; but i never liked him, and gave him no encouragement. i snubbed him unmercifully, but he was one of those self-satisfied, self-assured creatures incapable of taking a snubbing. he was a plymouth brother.” “my wife was a plymouth sister.” “i know she was, and i always felt for you. it was so sad. well, to go on with my story. in a frivolous mood jehu took to a bicycle, and the very first time he scorched he was thrown, and so injured his back that he died in a week. before he departed he entreated that i would see him; so i could not be nasty, and i went. and he told me then that he was about to be wrapped in glory. i asked him if this were so certain. 'cocksure' was his reply; and they were his last words. and he has not kept his word.” "and he haunts you now?” “ yes. he dangles about with his great ox-eyes fixed on me. but as to his envelope of glory i have not seen a fag end of it, and i have told him so." "do you really mean this, philippa ?” "i do. he wrings his hands and sighs. he gets no change out of me, i promise you." “ this is a very strange condition of affairs." “it only shows how well matched we are. i do not suppose you will find two other people in england so situated as we are, and therefore so admirably suited to one another." “there is much in what you say. but how are we 322 a book of ghosts thus we ever did de yuck up gott trembleia play spincapable feel my hanwhen i was younow i am quite to rid ourselves of the nuisance--for it is a nuisance being thus haunted. we cannot spend all our time in a theatre." “we must defy them. marry in spite of them." “i never did defy my wife when she was alive. i do not know how to pluck up courage now that she is dead. feel my hand, philippa, how it trembles. she has broken my nerve. when i was young i could play spellikins, my hand was so steady. now i am quite incapable of doing anything with the little sticks." “well, hearken to what i propose," said miss weston. “ i will beard the old cat“hush, not so disrespectful; she was my wife." “well, then, the ghostly old lady, in her den. you think she will appear if i go to pay you a visit ? ”. “ sure of it. she is consumed with jealousy. she had no personal attractions herself, and you have a thousand. i never knew whether she loved me, but she was always confoundedly jealous of me." “very well, then. you have often spoken to me about charges in the decoration of your villa. suppose i call on you to-morrow afternoon, and you shall show me what your schemes are." “and your ghost, will he attend you?" “ most probably. he also is as jealous as a ghost can well be." “well, so be it. i shall await your coming with impatience. now, then, we may as well go to our respective homes." a cab was accordingly summoned, and after mr. woolfield had handed philippa in, and she had taken her seat in the back, he entered and planted himself with his back to the driver. “why do you not sit by me?” asked the girl. “ i can't,” replied benjamin. “perhaps you may not see, but i do, my deceased wife is in the cab, and occupies the place on your left.” . a happy release 323 “sit on her,” urged philippa. “i haven't the effrontery to do it,” gasped ben. “will you believe me," whispered the young lady, leaning over to speak to mr. woolfield, “i have seen jehu post hovering about the theatre door, wringing his white hands and turning up his eyes. i suspect he is running after the cab." as soon as mr. woolfield had deposited his bride-elect at her residence he ordered the cabman to drive him home. then he was alone in the conveyance with the ghost. as each gaslight was passed the flash came over the cadaverous face opposite him, and sparks of fire kindled momentarily in the stony eyes. “benjamin !” she said, “benjamin! oh, benjamin! do not suppose that i shall permit it. you may writhe and twist, you may plot and contrive how you will, i will stand between you and her as a wall of ice.” next day, in the afternoon, philippa weston arrived at the house. the late mrs. woolfield had, however, apparently obtained an inkling of what was intended, for she was already there, in the drawing-room, seated in an armchair with her hands raised and clasped, looking stonily before her. she had a white face, no lips that showed, and her dark hair was dressed in two black slabs, one on each side of the temples. it was done in a knot behind. she wore no ornaments of any kind. in came miss weston, a pretty girl, coquettishly dressed in colours, with sparkling eyes and laughing lips. as she had predicted, she was followed by her attendant spectre, a tall, gaunt young man in a black frock-coat, with a melancholy face and large ox-eyes. he shambled in shyly, looking from side to side. he had white hands and long, lean fingers. every now and then he put his hands behind him, up his back, under the tails of his coat, and rubbed his spine where he had received his mortal injury in cycling. almost as soon as he entered he 324 a book of ghosts noticed the ghost of mrs. woolfield that was, and made an awkward bow. her eyebrows rose, and a faint wintry smile of recognition lighted up her cheeks. "i believe i have the honour of saluting sister kesiah," said the ghost of jehu post, and he assumed a posture of ecstasy. “ it is even so, brother jehu.” "and how do you find yourself, sister-out of the flesh ?" the late mrs. woolfield looked disconcerted, hesitated a moment, as if she found some difficulty in answering, and then, after a while, said: "i suppose, much as do you, brother." " it is a melancholy duty that detains me here below," said jehu post's ghost. “the same may be said of me," observed the spirit of the deceased mrs. woolfield. “pray take a chair.” "i am greatly obliged, sister. my back". philippa nudged benjamin, and unobserved by the ghosts, both slipped into the adjoining room by a doorway over which hung velvet curtains. in this room, on the table, mr. woolfield had collected patterns of chintzes and books of wall-papers. there the engaged pair remained, discussing what curtains would go with the chintz coverings of the sofa and chairs, and what papers would harmonise with both. “i see," said philippa," that you have plates hung on the walls. i don't like them: it is no longer in good form. if they be worth anything you must have a cabinet with glass doors for the china. how about the carpets ?” “there is the drawing-room,” said benjamin. “no, we won't go in there and disturb the ghosts," said philippa. “we'll take the drawing room for granted.” “wellcome with me to the dining-room. we can reach it by another door." # manny smith "i believe that they are taiking goody, goody a happy release 325 in the room they now entered the carpet was in fairly good condition, except at the head and bottom of the table, where it was worn. this was especially the case at the bottom, where mr. woolfield had usually sat. there, when his wife had lectured, moralised, and harangued, he had rubbed his feet up and down and had fretted the nap off the brussels carpet. "i think,” remarked philippa, “that we can turn it about, and by taking out one width and putting that under the bookcase and inserting the strip that was there in its room, we can save the expense of a new carpet. but, the engravings—those landseers. what do you think of them, ben, dear ?" she pointed to the two familiar engravings of the “ deer in winter,” and “dignity and impudence." “don't you think, ben, that one has got a little tired of those pictures ?” "my late wife did not object to them, they were so perfectly harmless." “but your coming wife does. we will have something more up-to-date in their room. by the way, i wonder how the ghosts are getting on. they have let us alone so far. i will run back and have a peep at them through the curtains." the lively girl left the dining apartment, and her husband-elect, studying the pictures to which philippa had objected. presently she returned. “oh, ben ! such fun!” she said, laughing. “my ghost has drawn up his chair close to that of the late mrs. woolfield, and is fondling her hand. but i believe that they are only talking goody-goody." “and now about the china," said mr. woolfield. “it is in a closet near the pantry—that is to say, the best china. i will get a benzoline lamp, and we will examine it. we had it out only when mrs. woolfield had a party of her elect brothers and sisters. i fear a good deal is broken. 326 a book of ghosts i know that the soup tureen has lost a lid, and i believe we are short of vegetable dishes. how many plates remain i do not know. we had a parlour-maid, dorcas, who was a sad smasher, but as she was one who had made her election sure, my late wife would not part with her." "and how are you off for glass ?” “the wine-glasses are fairly complete. i fancy the cutglass decanters are in a bad way. my late wife chipped them, i really believe out of spite." it took the couple some time to go through the china and the glass. “and the plate ?" asked philippa. “oh, that is right. all the real old silver is at the bank, as kesiah preferred plated goods." “how about the kitchen utensils ? " “upon my word i cannot say. we had a rather nicelooking cook, and so my late wife never allowed me to step inside the kitchen.” "is she here still ?" inquired philippa sharply. “no; my wife, when she was dying, gave her the sack.” “bless me, ben !” exclaimed philippa. “it is growing dark. i have been here an age. i really must go home. i wonder the ghosts have not worried us. i'll have another look at them.” she tripped off. in five minutes she was back. she stood for a minute looking at mr. woolfield, laughing so heartily that she had to hold her sides. “what is it, philippa ?" he inquired. "oh, ben! a happy release. they will never dare to show their faces again. they have eloped together." the 9.30 up-train tn a well-authenticated ghost story, names and dates i should be distinctly specified. in the following story i am unfortunately able to give only the year and the month, for i have forgotten the date of the day, and i do not keep a diary. with regard to names, my own figures as a guarantee as that of the principal personage to whom the following extraordinary circumstances occurred, but the minor actors are provided with fictitious names, for i am not warranted to make their real ones public. i may add that the believer in ghosts may make use of the facts which i relate to establish his theories, if he finds that they will be of service to him—when he has read through and weighed well the startling account which i am about to give from my own experiences. on a fine evening in june, 1860, i paid a visit to mrs. lyons, on my way to the hassocks gate station, on the london and brighton line. this station is the first out of brighton. as i rose to leave, i mentioned to the lady whom i was visiting that i expected a parcel of books from town, and that i was going to the station to inquire whether it had arrived. “oh!” said she, readily, “i expect dr. lyons out from brighton by the 9.30 train; if you like to drive the pony chaise down and meet him, you are welcome, and you can bring your parcel back with you in it.” i gladly accepted her offer, and in a few minutes i was seated in a little low basket-carriage, drawn by a pretty iron-grey welsh pony. 327 328 a book of ghosts the station road commands the line of the south downs from chantonbury ring, with its cap of dark firs, to mount harry, the scene of the memorable battle of lewes. woolsonbury stands out like a headland above the dark danny woods, over which the rooks were wheeling and cawing previous to settling themselves in for the night. ditchling beacon—its steep sides gashed with chalk-pits—was faintly flushed with light. the clayton windmills, with their sails motionless, stood out darkly against the green evening sky. close beneath opens the tunnel in which, not so long before, had happened one of the most fearful railway accidents on record. the evening was exquisite. the sky was kindled with light, though the sun was set. a few gilded bars of cloud lay in the west. two or three stars looked forth—one i noticed twinkling green, crimson, and gold, like a gem. from a field of young wheat hard by i heard the harsh, grating note of the corncrake. mist was lying on the low meadows like a mantle of snow, pure, smooth, and white; the cattle stood in it to their knees. the effect was so singular that i drew up to look at it attentively. at the same moment i heard the scream of an engine, and on looking towards the downs i noticed the up-train shooting out of the tunnel, its red signal lamps flashing brightly out of the purple gloom which bathed the roots of the hills. seeing that i was late, i whipped the welsh pony on, and proceeded at a fast trot. at about a quarter mile from the station there is a turnpike-an odd-looking building, tenanted then by a strange old man, usually dressed in a white smock, over which his long white beard flowed to his breast. this toll-collectorhe is dead now-had amused himself in bygone days by carving life-size heads out of wood, and these were stuck along the eaves. one is the face of a drunkard, round and blotched, leering out of misty eyes at the passers-by; the 9.30 up-train 329 the next has the crumpled features of a miser, worn out with toil and moil; a third has the wild scowl of a maniac; and a fourth the stare of an idiot. i drove past, flinging the toll to the door, and shouting to the old man to pick it up, for i was in a vast hurry to reach the station before dr. lyons left it. i whipped the little pony on, and he began to trot down a cutting in the greensand, through which leads the station road. suddenly, taffy stood still, planted his feet resolutely on the ground, threw up his head, snorted, and refused to move a peg. i “gee-uped,” and “tshed,” all to no purpose; not a step would the little fellow advance. i saw that he was thoroughly alarmed; his flanks were quivering, and his ears were thrown back. i was on the point of leaving the chaise, when the pony made a bound on one side and ran the carriage up into the hedge, thereby upsetting me on the road. i picked myself up, and took the beast's head. i could not conceive what had frightened him; there was positively nothing to be seen, except a puff of dust running up the road, such as might be blown along by a passing current of air. there was nothing to be heard, except the rattle of a gig or tax-cart with one wheel loose: probably a vehicle of this kind was being driven down the london road, which branches off at the turnpike at right angles. the sound became fainter, and at last died away in the distance. the pony now no longer refused to advance. it trembled violently, and was covered with sweat. “well, upon my word, you have been driving hard !” exclaimed dr. lyons, when i met him at the station. “i have not, indeed,” was my reply; "but something has frightened taffy, but what that something was, is more than i can tell.” “oh, ah!” said the doctor, looking round with a certain degree of interest in his face; “so you met it, did you ?” “met what?" 330 a book of ghosts "oh, nothing ;-only i have heard of horses being frightened along this road after the arrival of the 9.30 uptrain. flys never leave the moment that the train comes in, or the horses become restive—a wonderful thing for a fly-horse to become restive, isn't it?”. "but what causes this alarm ? i saw nothing !” “you ask me more than i can answer. i am as ignorant of the cause as yourself. i take things as they stand, and make no inquiries. when the flyman tells me that he can't start for a minute or two after the train has arrived, or urges on his horses to reach the station before the arrival of this train, giving as his reason that his brutes become wild if he does not do so, then i merely say, 'do as you think best, cabby,' and bother my head no more about the matter." “i shall search this matter out," said i resolutely. “what has taken place so strangely corroborates the superstition, that i shall not leave it uninvestigated.” “take my advice and banish it from your thoughts. when you have come to the end, you will be sadly disappointed, and will find that all the mystery evaporates, and leaves a dull, commonplace residuum. it is best that the few mysteries which remain to us unexplained should still remain mysteries, or we shall disbelieve in supernatural agencies altogether. we have searched out the arcana of nature, and exposed all her secrets to the garish eye of day, and we find, in despair, that the poetry and romance of life are gone. are we the happier for knowing that there are no ghosts, no fairies, no witches, no mermaids, no wood spirits ? were not our forefathers happier in thinking every lake to be the abode of a fairy, every forest to be a bower of yellow-haired sylphs, every moorland sweep to be tripped over by elf and pixie? i found my little boy one day lying on his face in a fairy-ring, crying: “you dear, dear little fairies, i will believe in you, though papa says you are all nonsense.' i used, in my childish days, to the 9.30 up-train 331 think, when a silence fell upon a company, that an angel was passing through the room. alas! i now know that it results only from the subject of weather having been talked to death, and no new subject having been started. believe me, science has done good to mankind, but it has done mischief too. if we wish to be poetical or romantic, we must shut our eyes to facts. the head and the heart wage mutual war now. a lover preserves a lock of his mistress's hair as a holy relic, yet he must know perfectly well that for all practical purposes a bit of rhinoceros hide would do as well—the chemical constituents are identical. if i adore a fair lady, and feel a thrill through all my veins when i touch her hand, a moment's consideration tells me that phosphate of lime no. i is touching phosphate of lime no. 2-nothing more. if for a moment i forget myself so far as to wave my cap and cheer for king, or queen, or prince, i laugh at my folly next moment for having paid reverence to one digesting machine above another." i cut the doctor short as he was lapsing into his favourite subject of discussion, and asked him whether he would lend me the pony-chaise on the following evening, that i might drive to the station again and try to unravel the mystery. "i will lend you the pony," said he, “but not the chaise, as i am afraid of its being injured should taffy take fright and run up into the hedge again. i have got a saddle." next evening i was on my way to the station considerably before the time at which the train was due. i stopped at the turnpike and chatted with the old man who kept it. i asked him whether he could throw any light on the matter which i was investigating. he shrugged his shoulders, saying that he "knowed nothink about it." “what! nothing at all ?” “i don't trouble my head with matters of this sort,” was the reply. “people do say that something out of the 332 a book of ghosts common sort passes along the road and turns down the other road leading to clayton and brighton; but i pays no attention to what them people says." “do you ever hear anything?" “after the arrival of the 9.30 train i does at times hear the rattle as of a mail-cart and the trot of a horse along the road; and the sound is as though one of the wheels was loose. i've a been out many a time to take the toll ; but, lor' bless 'ee! them sperits—if sperits them be-don't go for to pay toll.” “have you never inquired into the matter?”. “why should i? anythink as don't go for to pay toll don't concern me. do ye think as i knows ’ow many people and dogs goes through this heer geatt in a day? not i-them don't pay toll, so them's no odds to me." “look here, my man!” said i. “do you object to my putting the bar across the road, immediately on the arrival of the train ?" “not a bit! please yersel; but you han't got much time to lose, for theer comes thickey train out of clayton tunnel." i shut the gate, mounted taffy, and drew up across the road a little way below the turnpike. i heard the train arrive-i saw it puff off. at the same moment i distinctly heard a trap coming up the road, one of the wheels rattling as though it were loose. i repeat deliberately that i heard it-i cannot account for it—but, though i heard it, yet i saw nothing whatever. at the same time the pony became restless, it tossed its head, pricked up its ears, it started, pranced, and then made a bound to one side, entirely regardless of whip and rein. it tried to scramble up the sand-bank in its alarm, and i had to throw myself off and catch its head. i then cast a glance behind me at the turnpike. i saw the bar bent, as though someone were pressing against it; then, with a click, it flew open, and was dashed violently back against the 9.30 up-train 333 the white post to which it was usually hasped in the daytime. there it remained, quivering from the shock. immediately i heard the rattle-rattle-rattle-of the tax-cart. i confess that my first impulse was to laugh, the idea of a ghostly tax-cart was so essentially ludicrous; but the reality of the whole scene soon brought me to a graver mood, and, remounting taffy, i rode down to the station. the officials were taking their ease, as another train was not due for some while; so i stepped up to the stationmaster and entered into conversation with him. after a few desultory remarks, i mentioned the circumstances which had occurred to me on the road, and my inability to account for them. "so that's what you're after !” said the master somewhat bluntly. “well, i can tell you nothing about it; sperits don't come in my way, saving and excepting those which can be taken inwardly ; and mighty comfortable warming things they be when so taken. if you ask me about other sorts of sperits, i tell you flat i don't believe in ’em, though i don't mind drinking the health of them what does." "perhaps you may have the chance, if you are a little more communicative," said i. “well, i'll tell you all i know, and that is precious little," answered the worthy man. “i know one thing for certain—that one compartment of a second-class carriage is always left vacant between brighton and hassocks gate, by the 9.30 up-train.” “for what purpose ?" “ah! that's more than i can fully explain. before the orders came to this effect, people went into fits and that like, in one of the carriages.” “any particular carriage ?" “the first compartment of the second-class carriage nearest to the engine. it is locked at brighton, and i unlock it at this station." 334 a book of ghosts "what do you mean by saying that people had fits?" “i mean that i used to find men and women a-screeching and a-hollering like mad to be let out; they'd seen some'ut as had frightened them as they was passing through the clayton tunnel. that was before they made the arrangement i told y' of.” “very strange!” said i meditatively. “wery much so, but true for all that. i don't believe in nothing but sperits of a warming and cheering nature, and them sort ain't to be found in clayton tunn'l to my thinking." there was evidently nothing more to be got out of my friend. i hope that he drank my health that night ; if he omitted to do so, it was his fault, not mine. as i rode home revolving in my mind all that i had heard and seen, i became more and more settled in my determination to thoroughly investigate the matter. the best means that i could adopt for so doing would be to come out from brighton by the 9.30 train in the very compartment of the second-class carriage from which the public were considerately excluded. somehow i felt no shrinking from the attempt; my curiosity was so intense that it overcame all apprehension as to the consequences. my next free day was thursday, and i hoped then to execute my plan. in this, however, i was disappointed, as i found that a battalion drill was fixed for that very evening, and i was desirous of attending it, being somewhat behindhand in the regulation number of drills. i was consequently obliged to postpone my brighton trip. on the thursday evening about five o'clock i started in regimentals with my rifle over my shoulder, for the drilling ground-a piece of furzy common near the railway station. i was speedily overtaken by mr. ball, a corporal in the rifle corps, a capital shot and most efficient in his drill. mr. ball was driving his gig. he stopped on seeing me hing ab postpone mumber of some the 9.30 up-train 335 aids and offered me a seat beside him. i gladly accepted, as the distance to the station is a mile and three-quarters by the road, and two miles by what is commonly supposed to be the short cut across the fields. after some conversation on volunteering matters, about which corporal ball was an enthusiast, we turned out of the lanes into the station road, and i took the opportunity of adverting to the subject which was uppermost in my mind. “ah! i have heard a good deal about that," said the corporal. “my workmen have often told me some cockand-bull stories of that kind, but i can't say has 'ow i believed them. what you tell me is, 'owever, very remarkable. i never 'ad it on such good authority afore. still, i can't believe that there's hanything supernatural about it.” "i do not yet know what to believe," i replied, " for the whole matter is to me perfectly inexplicable.” “you know, of course, the story which gave rise to the superstition?" “not i. pray tell it me.” “ just about seven years agone-why, you must remember the circumstances as well as i do—there was a man druv over from i can't say where, for that was never exact-ly hascertained, but from the henfield direction, in a light cart. he went to the station inn, and throwing the reins to john thomas, the ostler, bade him take the trap and bring it round to meet the 9.30 train, by which he calculated to return from brighton john thomas said as 'ow the stranger was quite unbeknown to him, and that he looked as though he 'ad some matter on his mind when he went to the train ; he was a queer sort of a man, with thick grey hair and beard, and delicate white 'ands, jist like a lady's. the trap was round to the station door as hordered by the arrival of the 9.30 train. the ostler observed then that the man was ashen pale, and that his he went to. hair and bear was round to train. the hat his hordar lady's air and beartas a quicer 336 a book of ghosts 'ands trembled as he took the reins, that the stranger stared at him in a wild habstracted way, and that he would have driven off without tendering payment had he not been respectfully reminded that the 'orse had been given a feed of hoats. john thomas made a hobservation to the gent relative to the wheel which was loose, but that hobservation met with no corresponding hanswer. the driver whipped his 'orse and went off. he passed the turnpike, and was seen to take the brighton road hinstead of that by which he had come. a workman hobserved the trap next on the downs above clayton chalk-pits. he didn't pay much attention to it, but he saw that the driver was on his legs at the 'ead of the 'orse. next morning, when the quarrymen went to the pit, they found a shattered taxcart at the bottom, and the 'orse and driver dead, the latter with his neck broken. what was curious, too, was that an 'andkerchief was bound round the brute's heyes, so that he must have been driven over the edge blindfold. hodd, wasn't it? well, folks say that the gent and his tax-cart pass along the road every hevening after the arrival of the 9.30 train ; but i don't believe it; i ain't a bit superstitious—not i!". next week i was again disappointed in my expectation of being able to put my scheme in execution; but on the third saturday after my conversation with corporal ball, i walked into brighton in the afternoon, the distance being about nine miles. i spent an hour on the shore watching the boats, and then i sauntered round the pavilion, ardently longing that fire might break forth and consume that architectural monstrosity. i believe that i afterwards had a cup of coffee at the refreshment-rooms of the station, and capital refreshment-rooms they are, or were very moderate and very good. i think that i partook of a bun, but if put on my oath i could not swear to the fact; a floating reminiscence of bun lingers in the chambers of memory, but i cannot be positive, and i wish in this the 9.30 up-train 337 paper to advance nothing but reliable facts. i squandered precious time in reading the advertisements of babyjumpers—which no mother should be without—which are indispensable in the nursery and the greatest acquisition in the parlour, the greatest discovery of modern times, etc., etc. i perused a notice of the advantage of metallic brushes, and admired the young lady with her hair white on one side and black on the other ; i studied the chinese letter commendatory of horniman's tea and the inferior english translation, and counted up the number of agents in great britain and ireland. at length the ticket-office opened, and i booked for hassocks gate, second class, fare one shilling. i ran along the platform till i came to the compartment of the second-class carriage which i wanted. the door was locked, so i shouted for a guard. "put me in here, please.” “can't there, s'r; next, please, nearly empty, one woman and baby." "i particularly wish to enter this carriage," said i. “can't be, lock’d, orders, comp’ny," replied the guard, turning on his heel. “what reason is there for the public's being excluded, may i ask?" "dn'ow, 'spress ord'rs—c'n't let you in; next caridge, pl'se ; now then, quick, pl’se.” i knew the guard and he knew me—by sight, for i often travelled to and fro on the line, so i thought it best to be candid with him. i briefly told him my reason for making the request, and begged him to assist me in executing my plan. he then consented, though with reluctance. "'ave y'r own way," said he ; "only if an’thing 'appens, don't blame me!” “never fear," laughed i, jumping into the carriage. the guard left the carriage unlocked, and in two minutes we were off. z 338 a book of ghosts i did not feel in the slightest degree nervous. there was no light in the carriage, but that did not matter, as there was twilight. i sat facing the engine on the left side, and every now and then i looked out at the downs with a soft haze of light still hanging over them. we swept into a cutting, and i watched the lines of aint in the chalk, and longed to be geologising among them with my hammer, picking out “shepherds' crowns" and sharks' teeth, the delicate rhynconella and the quaint ventriculite. i remembered a not very distant occasion on which i had actually ventured there, and been chased off by the guard, after having brought down an avalanche of chalk débris in a manner dangerous to traffic whilst endeavouring to extricate a magnificent ammonite which i found, and alas ! left-protruding from the side of the cutting. i wondered whether that ammonite was still there; i looked about to identify the exact spot as we whizzed along; and at that moment we shot into the tunnel. there are two tunnels, with a bit of chalk cutting between them. we passed through the first, which is short, and in another moment plunged into the second. i cannot explain how it was that now, all of a sudden, a feeling of terror came over me; it seemed to drop over me like a wet sheet and wrap me round and round. i felt that someone was seated opposite me—someone in the darkness with his eyes fixed on me. many persons possessed of keen nervous sensibility are well aware when they are in the presence of another, even though they can see no one, and i believe that i possess this power strongly. if i were blindfolded, i think that i should know when anyone was looking fixedly at me, and i am certain that i should instinctively know that i was not alone if i entered a dark room in which another person was seated, even though he made no noise. i remember a college friend of mine, who dabbled in anatomy, telling me that a little italian violinist once called on him the 9.30 up-train 339 to give a lesson on his instrument. the foreigner-a singularly nervous individual-moved restlessly from the place where he had been standing, casting many a furtive glance over his shoulder at a press which was behind him. at last the little fellow tossed aside his violin, saying“i can note give de lesson if someone weel look at me from behind! dare is somebodee in de cupboard, i know!" “you are right, there is !” laughed my anatomical friend, flinging open the door of the press and discovering a skeleton. the horror which oppressed me was numbing. for a few moments i could neither lift my hands nor stir a finger. i was tongue-tied. i seemed paralysed in every member. i fancied that i felt eyes staring at me through the gloom. a cold breath seemed to play over my face. i believed that fingers touched my chest and plucked at my coat. i drew back against the partition; my heart stood still, my flesh became stiff, my muscles rigid. i do not know whether i breathed-a blue mist swam before my eyes, and my head span. the rattle and roar of the train dashing through the tunnel drowned every other sound. suddenly we rushed past a light fixed against the wall in the side, and it sent a flash, instantaneous as that of lightning, through the carriage. in that moment i saw what i shall never, never forget. i saw a face opposite me, livid as that of a corpse, hideous with passion like that of a gorilla. i cannot describe it accurately, for i saw it but for a second; yet there rises before me now, as i write, the low broad brow seamed with wrinkles, the shaggy, overhanging grey eyebrows; the wild ashen eyes, which glared as those of a demoniac; the coarse mouth, with its fleshy lips compressed till they were white; the profusion of wolf-grey hair about the cheeks and chin; the 340 a book of ghosts thin, bloodless hands, raised and half-open, extended towards me as though they would clutch and tear me. in the madness of terror, i fung myself along the seat to the further window. then i felt that it was moving slowly down, and was opposite me again. i lifted my hand to let down the window, and i touched something : i thought it was a hand-yes, yes! it was a hand, for it folded over mine and began to contract on it. i felt each finger separately ; they were cold, dully cold. i wrenched my hand away. i slipped back to my former place in the carriage by the open window, and in frantic horror i opened the door, clinging to it with both my hands round the window-jamb, swung myself out with my feet on the floor and my head turned from the carriage. if the cold fingers had but touched my woven hands, mine would have given way; had i but turned my head and seen that hellish countenance peering out at me, i must have lost my hold. ah! i saw the light from the tunnel mouth; it smote on my face. the engine rushed out with a piercing whistle. the roaring echoes of the tunnel died away. the cool fresh breeze blew over my face and tossed my hair ; the speed of the train was relaxed; the lights of the station became brighter. i heard the bell ringing loudly; i saw people waiting for the train ; i felt the vibration as the brake was put on. we stopped ; and then my fingers gave way. i dropped as a sack on the platform, and then, then—not till then i awoke. there now! from begin. ning to end the whole had been a frightful dream caused by my having too many blankets over my bed. if i must append a moral—don't sleep too hot. on the leads u aving realised a competence in australia, and tt having a hankering after country life for the remainder of my days in the old home, on my return to england i went to an agent with the object of renting a house with shooting attached, over at least three thousand acres, with the option of a purchase should the place suit me. i was no more intending to buy a country seat without having tried what it was like, than is a king disposed to go to war without knowing something of the force that can be brought against him. i was rather taken with photographs of a manor called fernwood, and i was still further engaged when i saw the place itself on a beautiful october day, when st. luke's summer was turning the country into a world of rainbow tints under a warm sun, and a soft vaporous blue haze tinted all shadows cobalt, and gave to the hills a stateliness that made them look like mountains. fernwood was an old house, built in the shape of the letter h, and therefore, presumably, dating from the time of the early tudor monarchs. the porch opened into the hall which was on the left of the crossstroke, and the drawing-room was on the right. there was one inconvenience about the house ; it had a staircase at each extremity of the cross-stroke, and there was no upstair communication between the two wings of the mansion. but, as a practical man, i saw how this might be remedied. the front door faced the south, and the hall was windowless on the north. nothing easier than to run a corridor along at the back, giving communication both 341 342 a book of ghosts upstairs and downstairs, without passing through the hall. the whole thing could be done for, at the outside, two hundred pounds, and would be no disfigurement to the place. i agreed to become tenant of fernwood for a twelvemonth, in which time i should be able to judge whether the place would suit me, the neighbours be pleasant, and the climate agree with my wife. we went down to fernwood at once, and settled ourselves comfortably in by the first week in november. the house was furnished; it was the property of an elderly gentleman, a bachelor named framett, who lived in rooms in town, and spent most of his time at the club. he was supposed to have been jilted by his intended, after which he eschewed female society, and remained unmarried. i called on him before taking up our residence at fernwood, and found him a somewhat blasé, languid, coldblooded creature, not at all proud of having a noble manor-house that had belonged to his family for four centuries ; very willing to sell it, so as to spite a cousin who calculated on coming in for the estate, and whom mr. framett, with the malignity that is sometimes found in old people, was particularly desirous of disappointing. “ the house has been let before, i suppose ?” said i. “oh, yes," he replied indifferently," i believe so, several times." “for long?" “no-o. i believe, not for long." "have the tenants had any particular reasons for not remaining on there-if i may be so bold as to inquire ? " "all people have reasons to offer, but what they offer you are not supposed to receive as genuine." i could get no more from him than this. “i think, sir, if i were you i would not go down to fernwood till after november was out.” “but," said i, “i want the shooting." on the leads 343 “ah, to be sure—the shooting, ah! i should have preferred if you could have waited till december began.” “that would not suit me,” i said, and so the matter ended. when we were settled in, we occupied the right wing of the house. the left or west wing was but scantily furnished and looked cheerless, as though rarely tenanted. we were not a large family, my wife and myself alone; there was consequently ample accommodation in the east wing for us. the servants were placed above the kitchen, in a portion of the house i have not yet described. it was a half-wing, if i may so describe it, built on the north side parallel with the upper arm of the western limb of the hall and the h. this block had a gable to the north like the wings, and a broad lead valley was between them, that, as i learned from the agent, had to be attended to after the fall of the leaf, and in times of snow, to clear it. access to this valley could be had from within by means of a little window in the roof, formed as a dormer. a short ladder allowed anyone to ascend from the passage to this window and open or shut it. the western staircase gave access to this passage, from which the servants' rooms in the new block were reached, as also the untenanted apartments in the old wing. and as there were no windows in the extremities of this passage that ran due north and south, it derived all its light from the aforementioned dormer window. one night, after we had been in the house about a week, i was sitting up smoking, with a little whisky-and-water at my elbow, reading a review of an absurd, ignorantly written book on new south wales, when i heard a tap at the door, and the parlourmaid came in, and said in a nervous tone of voice : “beg your pardon, sir, but cook nor i, nor none of us dare go to bed." “why not?" i asked, looking up in surprise. “please, sir, we dursn't go into the passage to get to our rooms.” 344 a book of ghosts “whatever is the matter with the passage?" "oh, nothing, sir, with the passage. would you mind, sir, just coming to see? we don't know what to make of it.” i put down my review with a grunt of dissatisfaction, laid my pipe aside, and followed the maid. she led me through the hall, and up the staircase at the western extremity. on reaching the upper landing i saw all the maids there in a cluster, and all evidently much scared. “whatever is all this nonsense about?” i asked. “ please, sir, will you look? we can't say." the parlourmaid pointed to an oblong patch of moonlight on the wall of the passage. the night was cloudless, and the full moon shone slanting in through the dormer and painted a brilliant silver strip on the wall opposite. the window being on the side of the roof to the east, we could not see that, but did see the light thrown through it against the wall. this patch of reflected light was about seven feet above the floor. the window itself was some ten feet up, and the passage was but four feet wide. i enter into these particulars for reasons that will presently appear. the window was divided into three parts by wooden mullions, and was composed of four panes of glass in each compartment. now i could distinctly see the reflection of the moon through the window with the black bars up and down, and the division of the panes. but i saw more than that: i saw the shadow of a lean arm with a hand and thin, lengthy fingers across a portion of the window, apparently groping at where was the latch by which the casement could be opened. my impression at the moment was that there was a burglar on the leads trying to enter the house by means of this dormer. on the leads 345 without a minute's hesitation i ran into the passage and looked up at the window, but could see only a portion of it, as in shape it was low, though broad, and, as already stated, was set at a great height. but at that moment something fluttered past it, like a rush of flapping draperies obscuring the light. i had placed the ladder, which i found hooked up to the wall, in position, and planted my foot on the lowest rung, when my wife arrived. she had been alarmed by the housemaid, and now she clung to me, and protested that i was not to ascend without my pistol. to satisfy her i got my colt's revolver that i always kept loaded, and then, but only hesitatingly, did she allow me to mount. i ascended to the casement, unhasped it, and looked out. i could see nothing. the ladder was over-short, and it required an effort to heave oneself from it through the casement on to the leads. i am stout, and not so nimble as i was when younger. after one or two efforts, and after presenting from below an appearance that would have provoked laughter at any other time, i succeeded in getting through and upon the leads. i looked up and down the valley—there was absolutely nothing to be seen except an accumulation of leaves carried there from the trees that were shedding their foliage. the situation was vastly puzzling. as far as i could judge there was no way off the roof, no other window opening into the valley; i did not go along upon the leads, as it was night, and moonlight is treacherous. moreover, i was wholly unacquainted with the arrangement of the roof, and had no wish to risk a fall. i descended from the window with my feet groping for the upper rung of the ladder in a manner even more grotesque than my ascent through the casement, but neither my wife—usually extremely alive to anything ridiculous in my appearance—nor the domestics were in a mood to make merry. i fastened the window after me, 346 a book of ghosts and had hardly reached the bottom of the ladder before again a shadow flickered across the patch of moonlight. i was fairly perplexed, and stood musing. then i recalled that immediately behind the house the ground rose; that, in fact, the house lay under a considerable hill. it was just possible by ascending the slope to reach the level of the gutter and rake the leads from one extremity to the other with my eye. i mentioned this to my wife, and at once the whole set of maids trailed down the stairs after us. they were afraid to remain in the passage, and they were curious to see if there was really some person on the leads. we went out at the back of the house, and ascended the bank till we were on a level with the broad gutter between the gables. i now saw that this gutter did not run through, but stopped against the hall roof; consequently, unless there were some opening of which i knew nothing, the person on the leads could not leave the place, save by the dormer window, when open, or by swarming down the fall pipe. it at once occurred to me that if what i had seen were the shadow of a burglar, he might have mounted by means of the rain-water pipe. but if so-how had he vanished the moment my head was protruded through the window? and how was it that i had seen the shadow flicker past the light immediately after i had descended the ladder? it was conceivable that the man had concealed himself in the shadow of the hall roof, and had taken advantage of my withdrawal to run past the window so as to reach the fall pipe, and let himself down by that. i could, however, see no one running away, as i must have done, going outside so soon after his supposed descent. but the whole affair became more perplexing when, looking towards the leads, i saw in the moonlight something with fluttering garments running up and down them. on the leads 347 i must go baching happing hair, and then we 'sa there could be no mistake—the object was a woman, and her garments were mere tatters. we could not hear a sound. i looked round at my wife and the servants,—they saw this weird object as distinctly as myself. it was more like a gigantic bat than a human being, and yet, that it was a woman we could not doubt, for the arms were now and then thrown above the head in wild gesticulation, and at moments a profile was presented, and then we saw, or thought we saw, long flapping hair, unbound. “i must go back to the ladder," said i; "you remain where you are, watching." “oh, edward ! not alone,” pleaded my wife. “my dear, who is to go with me?” i went. i had left the back door unlocked, and i ascended the staircase and entered the passage. again i saw the shadow flicker past the moonlit patch on the wall opposite the window. i ascended the ladder and opened the casement. then i heard the clock in the hall strike one. i heaved myself up to the sill with great labour, and i endeavoured to thrust my short body through the window, when i heard feet on the stairs, and next moment my wife's voice from below, at the foot of the ladder. “oh, edward, edward ! please do not go out there again. it has vanished. all at once. there is nothing there now to be seen.” i returned, touched the ladder tentatively with my feet, refastened the window, and descended – perhaps inelegantly. i then went down with my wife, and with her returned up the bank, to the spot where stood clustered our servants. they had seen nothing further; and although i remained on the spot watching for half an hour, i also saw nothing more. the maids were too frightened to go to bed, and so 348 a book of ghosts agreed to sit up in the kitchen for the rest of the night by a good fire, and i gave them a bottle of sherry to mull, and make themselves comfortable upon, and to help them to recover their courage. although i went to bed, i could not sleep. i was completely baffled by what i had seen. i could in no way explain what the object was and how it had left the leads. next day i sent for the village mason and asked him to set a long ladder against the well-head of the fall pipe, and examine the valley between the gables. at the same time i would mount to the little window and contemplate proceedings through that. the man had to send for a ladder sufficiently long, and that occupied some time. however, at length he had it planted, and then mounted. when he approached the dormer window“give me a hand,” said i, “and haul me up; i would like to satisfy myself with my own eyes that there is no other means of getting upon or leaving the leads." he took me under both shoulders and heaved me out, and i stood with him in the broad lead gutter. “there's no other opening whatever," said he, “and, lord love you, sir, i believe that what you saw was no more than this,” and he pointed to a branch of a noble cedar that grew hard by the west side of the house. “i warrant, sir," said he, “ that what you saw was this here bough as has been carried by a storm and thrown here, and the wind last night swept it up and down the leads." “but was there any wind ?" i asked. “i do not remember that there was.” "i can't say,” said he ; " before twelve o'clock i was fast asleep, and it might have blown a gale and i hear nothing of it.” " i suppose there must have been some wind,” said i, "and that i was too surprised and the women too frightened on the leads 349 to observe it” i laughed. “so this marvellous spectral phenomenon receives a very prosaic and natural explanation. mason, throw down the bough and we will bnrn it to-night.” the branch was cast over the edge, and fell at the back of the house. i left the leads, descended, and going out picked up the cedar branch, brought it into the hall, summoned the servants, and said derisively: “here is an illustration of the way in which weak-minded women get scared. now we will burn the burglar or ghost that we saw. it turns out to be nothing but this branch, blown up and down the leads by the wind." “but, edward,” said my wife, “there was not a breath stirring." "there must have been. only where we were we were sheltered and did not observe it. aloft, it blew across the roofs, and formed an eddy that caught the broken bough, lifted it, carried it first one way, then spun it round and carried it the reverse way. in fact, the wind between the two roofs assumed a spiral movement. i hope now you are all satisfied. i am." so the bough was burned, and our fears—i mean those of the females—were allayed. in the evening, after dinner, as i sat with my wife, she said to me: “half a bottle would have been enough, edward. indeed, i think half a bottle would be too much; you should not give the girls a liking for sherry, it may lead to bad results. if it had been elderberry wine, that would have been different.” “but there is no elderberry wine in the house," i objected. "well, i hope no harm will come of it, but i greatly mistrust-2" “please, sir, it is there again.” the parlourmaid, with a blanched face, was at the door. 350 a book of ghosts “ nonsense,” said i, “we burnt it.” “this comes of the sherry," observed my wife. “they will be seeing ghosts every night.” “but, my dear, you saw it as well as myself !” i rose, my wife followed, and we went to the landing as before, and, sure enough, against the patch of moonlight cast through the window in the roof, was the arm again, and then a flutter of shadows, as if cast by garments. “it was not the bough," said my wife. “if this had been seen immediately after the sherry i should not have been surprised, but—as it is now it is most extraordinary." “i'll have this part of the house shut up," said i. then i bade the maids once more spend the night in the kitchen, "and make yourselves lively on tea," i said-for i knew my wife would not allow another bottle of sherry to be given them. “to-morrow your beds shall be moved to the east wing." "beg pardon," said the cook, “i speaks in the name of all. we don't think we can remain in the house, but must leave the situation." “that comes of the tea," said i to my wife. “now," to the cook," as you have had another fright, i will let you have a bottle of mulled port to-night." “sir," said the cook, “if you can get rid of the ghost, we don't want to leave so good a master. we withdraw the notice.” next day i had all the servants' goods transferred to the east wing, and rooms were fitted up for them to sleep in. as their portion of the house was completely cut off from the west wing, the alarm of the domestics died away. a heavy, stormy rain came on next week, the first token of winter misery. i then found that, whether caused by the cedar bough, or by the nailed boots of the mason, i cannot say, but the lead of the valley between the roofs was torn, and water came in, streaming down the walls, and threatening to on the leads 351 severely damage the ceilings. i had to send for a plumber as soon as the weather mended. at the same time i started for town to see mr. framett. i had made up my mind that fernwood was not suitable, and by the terms of my agreement i might be off my bargain if i gave notice the first month, and then my tenancy would be for the six months only. i found the squire at his club. "ah !” said he, “i told you not to go there in november. no one likes fernwood in november; it is all right at other times." “what do you mean?". “there is no bother except in november.” “why should there be bother, as you term it, then ? " mr. framett shrugged his shoulders. “how the deuce can i tell you? i've never been a spirit, and all that sort of thing. mme. blavatsky might possibly tell you. i can't. but it is a fact.” "what is a fact?" "why, that there is no apparition at any other time. it is only in november, when she met with a little misfortune. that is when she is seen.” “who is seen?" “my aunt eliza-i mean my great-aunt." “you speak mysteries.” "i don't know much about it, and care less," said mr. framett, and called for a lemon squash. “it was this : i had a great-aunt who was deranged. the family kept it quiet, and did not send her to an asylum, but fastened her in a room in the west wing. you see, that part of the house is partially separated from the rest. i believe she was rather shabbily treated, but she was difficult to manage, and tore her clothes to pieces. somehow, she succeeded in getting out on the roof, and would race up and down there. they allowed her to do so, as by that means she obtained fresh air. but one night in november she scrambled up and, i believe, tumbled over. it was hushed up. sorry 352 a book of ghosts you went there in november. i should have liked you to buy the place. i am sick of it.” i did buy fernwood. what decided me was this: the plumbers, in mending the leads, with that ingenuity to do mischief which they sometimes display, succeeded in setting fire to the roof, and the result was that the west wing was burnt down. happily, a wall so completely separated the wing from the rest of the house, that the fire was arrested. the wing was not rebuilt, and i, thinking that with the disappearance of the leads i should be freed from the apparition that haunted them, purchased fernwood. i am happy to say we have been undisturbed since. aunt joanna in the land's end district is the little church-town 1 of zennor. there is no village to speak of a few scattered farms, and here and there a cluster of cottages. the district is bleak, the soil does not lie deep over granite that peers through the surface on exposed spots, where the furious gales from the ocean sweep the land. if trees ever existed there, they have been swept away by the blast, but the golden furze or gorse defies all winds, and clothes the moorland with a robe of splendour, and the heather flushes the slopes with crimson towards the decline of summer, and mantles them in soft, warm brown in winter, like the fur of an animal. in zennor is a little church, built of granite, rude and simple of construction, crouching low, to avoid the gales, but with a tower that has defied the winds and the lashing rains, because wholly devoid of sculptured detail, which would have afforded the blasts something to lay hold of and eat away. in zennor parish is one of the finest cromlechs in cornwall, a huge slab of unwrought stone like a table, poised on the points of standing upright blocks as rude as the mass they sustain. near this monument of a hoar and indeed unknown antiquity lived an old woman by herself, in a small cottage of one story in height, built of moor stones set in earth, and pointed only with lime. it was thatched with heather, and possessed but a single chimney that rose but little above the apex of the roof, and had two slates set on the top to protect the rising smoke from being blown 2 a 353 354 a book of ghosts down the chimney into the cottage when the wind was from the west or from the east. when, however, it drove from north or south, then the smoke must take care of itself. on such occasions it was wont to find its way out of the door, and little or none went up the chimney. the only fuel burnt in this cottage was peat—not the solid black peat from deep bogs, but turf of only a spade graft, taken from the surface, and composed of undissolved roots. such fuel gives flame, which the other does not; but, on the other hand, it does not throw out the same amount of heat, nor does it last one half the time. the woman who lived in the cottage was called by the people of the neighbourhood aunt joanna. what her family name was but few remembered, nor did it concern herself much. she had no relations at all, with the exception of a grand-niece, who was married to a small tradesman, a wheelwright near the church. but joanna and her great-niece were not on speaking terms. the girl had mortally offended the old woman by going to a dance at st. ives, against her express orders. it was at this dance that she had met the wheelwright, and this meeting, and the treatment the girl had met with from her aunt for having gone to it, had led to the marriage. for aunt joanna was very strict in her wesleyanism, and bitterly hostile to all such carnal amusements as dancing and playacting. of the latter there was none in that wild west cornish district, and no temptation ever afforded by a strolling company setting up its booth within reach of zennor. but dancing, though denounced, still drew the more independent spirits together. rose penaluna had been with her great-aunt after her mother's death. she was a lively girl, and when she heard of a dance at st. ives, and had been asked to go to it, although forbidden by aunt joanna, she stole from the cottage at night, and found her way to st. ives. her conduct was reprehensible certainly. but that of aunt joanna 355 aunt joanna was even more so, for when she discovered that the girl had left the house she barred her door, and refused to allow rose to re-enter it. the poor girl had been obliged to take refuge the same night at the nearest farm and sleep in an outhouse, and next morning to go into st. ives and entreat an acquaintance to take her in till she could enter into service. into service she did not go, for when abraham hext, the carpenter, heard how she had been treated, he at once proposed, and in three weeks married her. since then no communication had taken place between the old woman and her grand-niece. as rose knew, joanna was implacable in her resentments, and considered that she had been acting aright in what she had done. the nearest farm to aunt joanna's cottage was occupied by the hockins. one day elizabeth, the farmer's wife, saw the old woman outside the cottage as she was herself returning from market; and, noticing how bent and feeble joanna was, she halted, and talked to her, and gave her good advice. "see you now, auntie, you'm gettin' old and crimmed wi' rheumatics. how can you get about? an' there's no knowin' but you might be took bad in the night. you ought to have some little lass wi' you to mind you." “i don't want nobody, thank the lord.” “not just now, auntie, but suppose any chance ill-luck were to come on you. and then, in the bad weather, you'm not fit to go abroad after the turves, and you can't get all you want-tay and sugar and milk for yourself now. it would be handy to have a little maid by you.” “who should i have ?” asked joanna. “well, now, you couldn't do better than take little mary, rose hext's eldest girl. she's a handy maid, and bright and pleasant to speak to." "no," answered the old woman, “i'll have none o' they 356 a book of ghosts hexts, not i. the lord is agin rose and all her family, i know it. i'll have none of them.” “but, auntie, you must be nigh on ninety.” “i be ower that. but what o' that? didn't sarah, the wife of abraham, live to an hundred and seven and twenty years, and that in spite of him worritin' of her wi' that owdacious maid of hern, hagar? if it hadn't been for their goings on, of abraham and hagar, it's my belief that she'd ha' held on to a hundred and fifty-seven. i thank the lord i've never had no man to worrit me. so why i shouldn't equal sarah's life i don't see.” then she went indoors and shut the door. after that a week elapsed without mrs. hockin seeing the old woman. she passed the cottage, but no joanna was about. the door was not open, and usually it was. elizabeth spoke about this to her husband. “ jabez," said she, “i don't like the looks o'this; i've kept my eye open, and there be no auntie joanna hoppin' about. whativer can be up? it's my opinion us ought to go and see.” “well, i've naught on my hands now," said the farmer, “so i reckon we will go.” the two walked together to the cottage. no smoke issued from the chimney, and the door was shut. jabez knocked, but there came no answer; so he entered, followed by his wife. there was in the cottage but the kitchen, with one bedroom at the side. the hearth was cold. “there's some’ut up,” said mrs. hockin. “ i reckon it's the old lady be down,” replied her husband, and, throwing open the bedroom door, he said : “sure enough, and no mistake—there her be, dead as a dried pilchard." and in fact auntie joanna had died in the night, after having so confidently affirmed her conviction that she would live to the age of a hundred and twenty-seven. “whativer shall we do?" asked mrs. hockin. aunt joanna 357 nfolka mrs. lireo thand i said got meth, as the “i reckon," said her husband, “us had better take an inventory of what is here, lest wicked rascals come in and steal anything and everything." "folks bain't so bad as that, and a corpse in the house," observed mrs. hockin. "don't be sure o' that—these be terrible wicked times," said the husband. “and i sez, sez i, no harm is done in seein' what the old creetur had got.” "well, surely," acquiesced elizabeth, “there is no harm in that." in the bedroom was an old oak chest, and this the farmer and his wife opened. to their surprise they found in it a silver teapot, and half a dozen silver spoons. “well, now,” exclaimed elizabeth hockin, "fancy her havin' these—and me only britannia metal.” "i reckon she came of a good family,” said jabez. “leastwise, i've heard as how she were once well off.” "and look here !” exclaimed elizabeth, “there's fine and beautiful linen underneath-sheets and pillow-cases.” “but look here!” cried jabez, “ blessed if the taypot bain't chock-full o' money! whereiver did she get it from?" “her's been in the way of showing folk the zennor quoit, visitors from st. ives and penzance, and she's had scores o'shillings that way.” "lord !” exclaimed jabez. “i wish she'd left it to me, and i could buy a cow; i want another cruel bad.” “ay, we do, terrible," said elizabeth. “but just look to her bed, what torn and wretched linen be on that-and here these fine bedclothes all in the chest.” "who'll get the silver taypot and spoons, and the money?" inquired jabez. “her had no kin—none but rose hext, and her couldn't abide her. last words her said to me was that she'd have never naught to do wi' the hexts, they and all their belongings.'” 358 a book of ghosts “that was her last words?" “the very last words her spoke to me-or to anyone." “then,” said jabez, “ i'll tell ye what, elizabeth, it's our moral dooty to abide by the wishes of aunt joanna. it never does to go agin what is right. and as her expressed herself that strong, why us, as honest folks, must carry out her wishes, and see that none of all her savings go to them darned and dratted hexts." "but who be they to go to, then ?". “well—we'll see. fust us will have her removed, and provide that her be daycent buried. them hexts be in a poor way, and couldn't afford the expense, and it do seem to me, elizabeth, as it would be a liberal and a kindly act in us to take all the charges on ourselves. us is the closest neighbours." “ay-and her have had milk of me these ten or twelve years, and i've never charged her a penny, thinking her couldn't afford it. but her could, her were a-hoardin' of her money—and not paying me. that were not honest, and what i say is, that i have a right to some of her savin's, to pay the milk bill—and it's butter i've let her have now and then in a liberal way.” “very well, elizabeth. fust of all, we'll take the silver tay. pot and the spoons wi' us, to get 'em out of harm's way.” “and i'll carry the linen sheets and pillow-cases. my word !-why didn't she use 'em, instead of them rags ?”. all zennor declared that the hockins were a most neighbourly and generous couple, when it was known that they took upon themselves to defray the funeral expenses. mrs. hext came to the farm, and said that she was willing to do what she could, but mrs. hockin replied: “my good rose, it's no good. i seed your aunt when her was ailin', and nigh on death, and her laid it on me solemn as could be that we was to bury her, and that she'd have nothin' to do wi' the hexts at no price." rose sighed, and went away. aunt joanna 359 rose had not expected to receive anything from her aunt. she had never been allowed to look at the treasures in the oak chest. as far as she had been aware, aunt joanna had been extremely poor. but she remembered that the old woman had at one time befriended her, and she was ready to forgive the harsh treatment to which she had finally been subjected. in fact, she had repeatedly made overtures to her great-aunt to be reconciled, but these overtures had been always rejected. she was, accordingly, not surprised to learn from mrs. hockin that the old woman's last words had been as reported. but, although disowned and disinherited, rose, her husband, and children dressed in black, and were chief mourners at the funeral. now it had so happened that when it came to the laying out of aunt joanna, mrs. hockin had looked at the beautiful linen sheets she had found in the oak chest, with the object of furnishing the corpse with one as a winding-sheet. but-she said to herself—it would really be a shame to spoil a pair, and where else could she get such fine and beautiful old linen as was this? so she put the sheets away, and furnished for the purpose a clean but coarse and ragged sheet such as aunt joanna had in common use. that was good enough to moulder in the grave. it would be positively sinful, because wasteful, to give up to corruption and the worm such fine white linen as aunt joanna had hoarded. the funeral was conducted, otherwise, liberally. aunt joanna was given an elm, and not a mean deal board coffin, such as is provided for paupers; and a handsome escutcheon of white metal was put on the lid. moreover, plenty of gin was drunk, and cake and cheese eaten at the house, all at the expense of the hockins. and the conversation among those who attended, and ate and drank, and wiped their eyes, was rather anent the generosity of the hockins than of the virtues of the departed. be positived the worm the funers lid nat met plent put on and a hamard co 360 a book of ghosts mr. and mrs. hockin heard this, and their hearts swelled within them. nothing so swells the heart as the consciousness of virtue being recognised. jabez in an undertone informed a neighbour that he were'nt goin' to stick at the funeral expenses, not he; he'd have a neat stone erected above the grave with work on it, at twopence a letter. the name and the date of departure of aunt joanna, and her age, and two lines of a favourite hymn of his, all about earth being no dwelling-place, heaven being properly her home. it was not often that elizabeth hockin cried, but she did this day; she wept tears of sympathy with the deceased, and happiness at the ovation accorded to herself and her husband. at length, as the short winter day closed in, the last of those who had attended the funeral, and had returned to the farm to recruit and regale after it, departed, and the hockins were left to themselves. "it were a beautiful day,” said jabez. “ay,” responded elizabeth, “and what a sight of people came here." “this here buryin' of aunt joanna have set us up tremendous in the estimation of the neighbours." “i'd like to know who else would ha' done it for a poor old creetur as is no relation ; ay—and one as owed a purty long bill to me for milk and butter through ten or twelve years." “well,” said jabez, “i've allus heard say that a good deed brings its own reward wi' it-and it's a fine proverb. i feels it in my insides.” “p'raps it's the gin, jabez." "no—it's virtue. it's warmer nor gin a long sight. gin gives a smouldering spark, but a good conscience is a blaze of furze." the farm of the hockins was small, and hockin looked after his cattle himself. one maid was kept, but no man in the house. all were wont to retire early to bed; neither aunt joanna 361 hockin nor his wife had literary tastes, and were not disposed to consume much oil, so as to read at night. during the night, at what time she did not know, mrs. hockin awoke with a start, and found that her husband was sitting up in bed listening. there was a moon that night, and no clouds in the sky. the room was full of silver light. elizabeth hockin heard a sound of feet in the kitchen, which was immediately under the bedroom of the couple. “there's someone about,” she whispered; "go down, jabez." "i wonder, now, who it be. p'raps its sally.” “ it can't be sally—how can it, when she can't get out o'her room wi'out passin' through ours ?” “run down, elizabeth, and see." “it's your place to go, jabez." “but if it was a woman-and me in my night-shirt ?” "and, jabez, if it was a man, a robber—and me in my night-shirt? it'ud be shameful." “i reckon us had best go down together." “ we'll do so-but i hope it's not“what?" mrs. hockin did not answer. she and her husband crept from bed, and, treading on tiptoe across the room, descended the stair. there was no door at the bottom, but the staircase was boarded up at the side ; it opened into the kitchen. they descended very softly and cautiously, holding each other, and when they reached the bottom, peered timorously into the apartment that served many purposes -kitchen, sitting-room, and dining-place. the moonlight poured in through the broad, low window. by it they saw a figure. there could be no mistaking it-it was that of aunt joanna, clothed in the tattered sheet that elizabeth hockin had allowed for her graveclothes. the old woman had taken one of the fine linen 362 a book of ghosts sheets out of the cupboard in which it had been placed, and had spread it over the long table, and was smoothing it down with her bony hands. the hockins trembled, not with cold, though it was mid-winter, but with terror. they dared not advance, and they felt powerless to retreat. then they saw aunt joanna go to the cupboard, open it, and return with the silver spoons; she placed all six on the sheet, and with a lean finger counted them. she turned her face towards those who were watching her proceedings, but it was in shadow, and they could not distinguish the features nor note the expression with which she regarded them. presently she went back to the cupboard, and returned with the silver teapot. she stood at one end of the table, and now the reflection of the moon on the linen sheet was cast upon her face, and they saw that she was moving her lips--but no sound issued from them. she thrust her hand into the teapot and drew forth the coins, one by one, and rolled them along the table. the hockins saw the glint of the metal, and the shadow cast by each piece of money as it rolled. the first coin lodged at the further left-hand corner and the second rested near it ; and so on, the pieces were rolled, and ranged themselves in order, ten in a row. then the next ten were run across the white cloth in the same manner, and dropped over on their sides below the first row; thus also the third ten. and all the time the dead woman was mouthing, as though counting, but still inaudibly. the couple stood motionless observing proceedings, till suddenly a cloud passed before the face of the moon, so dense as to eclipse the light. then in a paroxysm of terror both turned and fled up the stairs, bolted their bedroom door, and jumped into bed. there was no sleep for them that night. in the gloom when the moon was concealed, in the glare when it shone 2. murray smilta she thrust her hand into the teapot and drew forth the coins, one by one, and rolled them along the table aunt joanna 363 forth, it was the same, they could hear the light rolling of the coins along the table, and the click as they fell over. was the supply inexhaustible? it was not so, but apparently the dead woman did not weary of counting the coins. when all had been ranged, she could be heard moving to the further end of the table, and, there recommencing the same proceeding of coin-rolling. not till near daybreak did this sound cease, and not till the maid, sally, had begun to stir in the inner bedchamber did hockin and his wife venture to rise. neither would suffer the servant girl to descend till they had been down to see in what condition the kitchen was. they found that the table had been cleared, the coins were all back in the teapot, and that and the spoons were where they had themselves placed them. the sheet, moreover, was neatly folded, and replaced where it had been before. the hockins did not speak to one another of their experiences during the past night, so long as they were in the house, but when jabez was in the field, elizabeth went to him and said : “husband, what about aunt joanna ?” “i don't know-maybe it were a dream.” “curious us should ha' dreamed alike.” “i don't know that ; 'twere the gin made us dream, and us both had gin, so us dreamed the same thing." “'twere more like real truth than dream," observed elizabeth. “we'll take it as dream,” said jabez. “mebbe it won't happen again.” but precisely the same sounds were heard on the following night. the moon was obscured by thick clouds, and neither of the two had the courage to descend to the kitchen. but they could hear the patter of feet, and then the roll and click of the coins. again sleep was impossible. “whatever shall we do?" asked elizabeth hockin next morning of her husband. “us can't go on like this wi' 364 a book of ghosts the dead woman about our house nightly. there's no tellin' she might take it into her head to come upstairs and pull the sheets off us. as we took hers, she may think it fair to carry off ours.” "i think," said jabez sorrowfully, “we'll have to return 'em." “but how?" after some consultation the couple resolved on conveying all the deceased woman's goods to the churchyard, by night, and placing them on her grave. "i reckon," said hockin, "we'll bide in the porch and watch what happens. if they be left there till mornin', why we may carry 'em back wi' an easy conscience. we've spent some pounds over her buryin.” “what have it come to ?” “three pounds five and fourpence, as i make it out." “well,” said elizabeth,“we must risk it." when night had fallen murk, the farmer and his wife crept from their house, carrying the linen sheets, the teapot, and the silver spoons. they did not start till late, for fear of encountering any villagers on the way, and not till after the maid, sally, had gone to bed. they fastened the farm door behind them. the night was dark and stormy, with scudding clouds, so dense as to make deep night, when they did not part and allow the moon to peer forth. they walked timorously, and side by side, looking about them as they proceeded, and on reaching the churchyard gate they halted to pluck up courage before opening and venturing within. jabez had furnished himself with a bottle of gin, to give courage to himself and his wife. together they heaped the articles that had belonged to aunt joanna upon the fresh grave, but as they did so the wind caught the linen and unfurled and flapped it, and they were forced to place stones upon it to hold it down. aunt joanna 365 then, quaking with fear, they retreated to the church porch, and jabez, uncorking the bottle, first took a long pull himself, and then presented it to his wife. and now down came a tearing rain, driven by a blast from the atlantic, howling among the gravestones, and screaming in the battlements of the tower and its bellchamber windows. the night was so dark, and the rain fell so heavily, that they could see nothing for full half an hour. but then the clouds were rent asunder, and the moon glared white and ghastly over the churchyard. elizabeth caught her husband by the arm and pointed. there was, however, no need for her to indicate that on which his eyes were fixed already. both saw a lean hand come up out of the grave, and lay hold of one of the fine linen sheets and drag at it. they saw it drag the sheet by one corner, and then it went down underground, and the sheet followed, as though sucked down in a vortex; fold on fold it descended, till the entire sheet had disappeared. “her have taken it for her windin' sheet,” whispered elizabeth. “whativer will her do wi' the rest ?” “have a drop o'gin ; this be terrible tryin',” said jabez in an undertone; and again the couple put their lips to the bottle, which came away considerably lighter after the draughts. “look !" gasped elizabeth. again the lean hand with long fingers appeared above the soil, and this was seen groping about the grass till it laid hold of the teapot. then it groped again, and gathered up the spoons, that flashed in the moonbeams. next, up came the second hand, and a long arm that stretched along the grave till it reached the other sheets. at once, on being raised, these sheets were caught by the wind, and flapped and fluttered like half-hoisted sails. the hands retained them for a while till they bellied with the wind, and then let them go, and they were swept away by 366 a book of ghosts the blast across the churchyard, over the wall, and lodged in the carpenter's yard that adjoined, among his timber. “she have sent 'em to the hexts," whispered elizabeth. next the hands began to trifle with the teapot, and to shake out some of the coins. in a minute some silver pieces were flung with so true an aim that they fell clinking down on the floor of the porch. how many coins, how much money was cast, the couple were in no mood to estimate. then they saw the hands collect the pillow-cases, and proceed to roll up the teapot and silver spoons in them, and, that done, the white bundle was cast into the air, and caught by the wind and carried over the churchyard wall into the wheelwright's yard. at once a curtain of vapour rushed across the face of the moon, and again the graveyard was buried in darkness. half an hour elapsed before the moon shone out again, then the hockins saw that nothing was stirring in the cemetery. "i reckon us may go now," said jabez. "let us gather up what she chucked to us," advised elizabeth. so the couple felt about the floor, and collected a number of coins. what they were they could not tell till they reached their home, and had lighted a candle. “how much be it?" asked elizabeth. "threz pound five and fourpence, exact," answered jabez. the white flag a percentage of the south african boers-how a large or how small that percentage is has not been determined — is possessed of a rudimentary conscience, much as the oyster has incipient eyes, and the snake initiatory articulations for feet, which in the course of long ages may, under suitable conditions, develop into an active faculty. if jacob van heeren possessed any conscience at all it was the merest protoplasm of one. he occupied heerendorp, a ramshackle farmhouse under a kopje, and had cattle and horses, also a wife and grownup sons and daughters. when the war broke out jacob hoisted the white flag at the gable, and he and his sons indulged their sporting instincts by shooting down such officers and men of the british army as went to the farm, unsuspecting treachery, heerendorp by this means obtained an evil notoriety, and it was ordered to be burnt, and the women of jacob's family to be transferred to a concentration camp where they would be mollycoddled at the expense of the english taxpayer. thus jacob and his sons were delivered from all anxiety as to their womankind, and were given a free field in which to exercise their mischievous ingenuity. as to their cattle and horses that had been commandeered, they held receipts which would entitle them to claim full value for the beasts at the termination of hostilities. jacob and his sons might have joined one of the companies under a boer general, but they preferred inde367 368 a book of ghosts pendent action, and their peculiar tactics, which proved eminently successful. that achievement in which jacob exhibited most slimness, and of which he was pre-eminently proud, was as follows: feigning himself to be wounded, he rolled on the ground, waving a white kerchief, and crying out for water. a young english lieutenant at once filled a cup and ran to his assistance, when jacob shot him through the heart. when the war was over van heeren got his farm rebuilt and restocked at the expense of the british taxpayer, and received his wife and daughters from the concentration camp, plump as partridges. so soon as the new heerendorp was ready for occupation, jacob took a large knife and cut seventeen notches in the doorpost. “what is that for, jacob?" asked his wife. “ they are reminders of the britishers i have shot." “well," said she, “if i hadn't killed more rooineks than that, i'd be ashamed of myself.” "oh, i shot more in open fight. i didn't count them; i only reckon such as i've been slim enough to befool with the white flag," said the boer. now the lieutenant whom jacob van heeren had killed when bringing him a cup of cold water, was aneurin jones, and he was the only son of his mother, and she a widow in north wales. on aneurin her heart had been set, in him was all her pride. beyond him she had no ambition, about him every fibre of her heart was entwined. life had to her no charms apart from him. when the news of his death reached her, unaccompanied by particulars, she was smitten with a sorrow that almost reached despair. the joy was gone out of her life, the light from her sky. the prospect was a blank before her. she sank into profound despondency, and would have welcomed death as an end to an aimless, a hopeless life. but when peace was concluded, and some comrades of the white flag 369 aneurin returned home, the story of how he had met his death was divulged to her. then the passionate welsh mother's heart became as a live coal within her breast. an impotent rage against his murderer consumed her. she did not know the name of the man who had killed him, she but ill understood where her son had fallen. had she known, had she been able, she would have gone out to south africa, and have gloried in being able to stab to the heart the man who had so treacherously murdered her aneurin. but how was he to be identified ? the fact that she was powerless to avenge his death was a torture to her. she could not sleep, she could not eat, she writhed, she moaned, she bit her fingers, she chafed at her incapacity to execute justice on the murderer. a feverish flame was lit in her hollow cheeks. her lips became parched, her tongue dry, her dark eyes glittered as if sparks of unquenchable fire had been kindled in them. she sat with clenched hands and set teeth before her dead grate, and the purple veins swelled and throbbed in her temples. oh! if only she knew the name of the man who had shot her aneurin! oh! if only she could find out a way to recompense him for the wrong he had done! these were her only thoughts. and the sole passage in her bible she could read, and which she read over and over again, was the story of the importunate widow who cried to the judge, “ avenge me of mine adversary!” and who was heard for her persistent asking. thus passed a fortnight. she was visibly wasting in flesh, but the fire within her burned only the fiercer as her bodily strength failed. then, all at once, an idea shot like a meteor through her brain. she remembered to have heard of the cursing well of st. elian, near colwyn. she recalled the fact that the last“ priest of the well," an old man who had lived hard 2 b 370 a book of ghosts by, and who had initiated postulants into the mysteries of the well, had been brought before the magistrates for obtaining money under false pretences, and had been sent to gaol at chester; and that the parson of llanelian had taken a crowbar and had ripped up the wall that enclosed the spring, and had done what lay in his power to destroy it and blot out the remembrance of the powers of the well, or to ruin its efficacy. but the spring still flowed. had it lost its virtues ? could a parson, could magistrates bring to naught what had been for centuries ? she remembered, further, that the granddaughter of the "priest of the well” was then an inmate of the workhouse at denbigh. was it not possible that she should know the ritual of st. elian's spring ?—should be able to assist her in the desire of her heart? mrs. winifred jones resolved on trying. she went to the workhouse and sought out the woman, an old and infirm creature, and had a conference with her. she found the woman, a poor, decrepit creature, very shy of speaking about the well, very unwilling to be drawn into a confession of the extent of her knowledge, very much afraid of the magistrates and the master of the workhouse punishing her if she had anything to do with the well; but the intensity of mrs. jones, her vehemence in prosecuting her inquiries, and, above all, the gift of half a sovereign pressed into her palm, with the promise of another if she assisted mrs. winifred in the prosecution of her purpose, finally overcame her scruples, and she told all that she knew. “you must visit st. elian's, madam,” said she, “when the moon is at the wane. you must write the name of him whose death you desire on a pebble, and drop it into the water, and recite the sixty-ninth psalm.”. “but," objected the widow, “i do not know his name, and i have no means of discovering it. i want to kill the man who murdered my son.” the white flag 371 stances. murdrent. there isd, and then sai the old woman considered, and then said: “in this case it is different. there is a way under these circumstances. murdered, was your son ?” “yes, he was treacherously shot.” “then you will have to call on your son by name, as you let fall the pebble, and say: 'let him be wiped out of the book of the living. avenge me of mine adversary, o my god. and you must go on dropping in pebbles, reciting the same prayer, till you see the water of the spring boil up black as ink. then you will know that your prayer has been heard, and that the curse has wrought.” winifred jones departed in some elation. she waited till the moon changed, and then she went to the spring. it was near a hedge; there were trees by it. apparently it had been unsought for many years. but it still flowed. about it lay scattered a few stones that had once formed the bounds. she looked about her. no one was by. the sun was declining, and would soon set. she bent over the water -it was perfectly clear. she had collected a lapful of rounded stones. then she cried out: “aneurin ! come to my aid against your murderer. let him be blotted out of the book of the living. avenge me on my adversary, o my god!” and she dropped a pebble into the water. then rose a bubble. that was all. she paused but for a moment, then again she cried : “ aneurin ! come to my aid against your murderer. let him be blotted out of the book of the living. avenge me on my adversary, o my god!” once more a pebble was let fall. it splashed into the spring, but there was no change save that ripples were sent against the side. a third-then a fourth-she went on; the sun sent a shaft of yellow glory through the trees over the spring. then someone passed along the road hard by, and 372 a book of ghosts foo but then she was followed in rose a contour of in mrs. winifred jones held her breath, and desisted till the footfall had died away. but then she continued, stone after stone was dropped, and the ritual was followed, till the seventeenth had disappeared in the well, when up rose a column of black fluid boiling as it were from below, the colour of ink; and the widow pressed her hands together, and drew a sigh of relief; her prayer had been heard, and her curse had taken effect. she cast away the rest of the pebbles, let down her skirt, and went away rejoicing. it so fell out that on this very evening jacob van heeren had gone to bed early, as he had risen before daybreak, and had been riding all day. his family were in the outer room, when they were startled by a hoarse cry from the bedroom. he was a short-tempered, imperious man, accustomed to yell at his wife and children when he needed them; but this cry was of an unusual character, it had in it the ring of alarm. his wife went to him to inquire what was the matter. she found the old boer sitting up in bed with one leg extended, his face like dirty stained leather, his eyes starting out of his head, and his mouth opening and shutting, lifting and depressing his shaggy, grey beard, as though he were trying to speak, but could not utter words. ." pete!” she called to her eldest son, “come here, and see what ails your father.” pete and others entered, and stood about the bed, staring stupidly at the old man, unable to comprehend what had come over him. "fetch him some brandy, pete," said the mother; "he looks as if he had a fit.” when some spirits had been poured down his throat the farmer was revived, and said huskily: “take it away! quick, take it off !” the white flag 373 “take what away?” “the white flag." “there is none here." “it is there—there, wrapped about my foot.” the wife looked at the outstretched leg, and saw nothing. jacob became angry, he swore at her, and yelled: “take it off; it is chilling me to the bone.” “there is nothing there." “but i say it is. i saw him come in" “saw whom, father?” asked one of the sons. "i saw that rooinek lieutenant i shot when he was bringing me drink, thinking i was wounded. he came in through the door“that is not possible-he must have passed us." “i say he did come. i saw him, and he held the white rag, and he came upon me and gave me a twist with the flag about my foot, and there it is-it numbs me. i cannot move it. quick, quick, take it away.” "i repeat there is nothing there," said his wife. “pull off his stocking," said pete van heeren; "he has got a chill in his foot, and fancies this nonsense. he has been dreaming." " it was not a dream,” roared jacob; “i saw him as clearly as i see you, and he wrapped my foot up in that accursed flag." "accursed flag !” exclaimed samuel, the second son. “that's a fine way to speak of it, father, when it served you so well.” “take it off, you dogs!” yelled the old man, “and don't stand staring and barking round me." the stocking was removed from his leg, and then it was seen that his foot—the left foot—had turned a livid white. “go and heat a brick," said the housewife to one of her daughters; “it is just the circulation has stopped.” but no artificial warmth served to restore the flow of blood, and the natural heat. 374 a book of ghosts jacob passed a sleepless night. next morning he rose, but limped; all feeling had gone out of the foot. his wife vainly urged him to keep to his bed. he was obstinate, and would get up; but he could not walk without the help of a stick. when clothed, he hobbled into the kitchen and put the numbed foot to the fire, and the stocking sole began to smoke, it was singed and went to pieces, but his foot was insensible to the heat. then he went forth, aided by the stick, to his farmyard, hoping that movement would restore feeling and warmth; but this also was in vain. in the evening he seated himself on a bench outside the door, whilst his family ate supper. he ordered them to bring food to him. he felt easier in the open air than within doors. whilst his wife and children were about the table at their meal, they heard a scream without, more like that of a wounded horse than a man, and all rushed forth, to find jacob in a paroxysm of terror only less severe than that of the preceding night. “he came on me again," he gasped ; " the same man, i do not know from whence—he seemed to spring out of the distance. i saw him first like smoke, but with a white flicker in it; and then he got nearer and became more distinct, and i knew it was he; and he had another of those white napkins in his hand. i could not call for help-i tried, i could utter no sound, till he wrapped itthat white rag-round my calf, and then, with the cold and pain, i cried out, and he vanished.” “father,” said pete, “you fell asleep and dreamt this." "i did not. i saw him, and i felt what he did. give me your hand. i cannot rise. i must go within. good lord, when will this come to an end ?” when lifted from his seat it was seen that his left leg dragged. he had to lean heavily on his son on one side and his wife on the other, and he allowed himself, without remonstrance, to be put to bed. the white flag 375 it was then seen that the dead whiteness, as of a corpse, had spread from the foot up the calf. "he is going to have a paralytic stroke, that is it," said pete. “you, samuel, must ride for a doctor to-morrow morning, not that he can do much good, if what i think be the case." on the second day the old man persisted in his determination to rise. he was deaf to all remonstrance, he would get up and go about, as far as he was able. but his ability was small. in the evening, as the sun went down, he was sitting crouched over the fire. the family had finished supper, and all had left the room except his wife, who was removing the dishes, when she heard a gasping and struggling by the fire, and, turning her head, saw her husband writhing on his stool, clinging to it with his hands, with his left leg out, his mouth foaming, and he was snorting with terror or pain. she ran to him at once. “jacob, what is it?". “he is at me again! beat him off with the broom !” he screamed. “keep him away. he is wrapping the white flag round my knee." pete and the others ran in, and raised their father, who was falling out of his seat, and conveyed him to bed. it was now seen that his knee had become hard and stiff, his calf was as if frozen ; the whiteness had extended upwards to the knee. next day a surgeon arrived. he examined the old man, and expressed his conviction that he had a stroke. but it was a paralytic attack of an unusual character, as it had in no way affected his speech or his left arm and hand. he recommended hot fomentations. still the farmer would not be confined to bed; he insisted on being dressed and assisted into the kitchen. one stick was not now sufficient for him, and samuel contrived for him crutches. with these he could drag 376 a book of ghosts himself about, and on the fourth evening he laboriously worked his way to a cowstall to look at one of his beasts that was ill. whilst there he had a fourth attack. pete, who was without, heard him yell and beat at the door with one of his crutches. he entered, and found his father lying on the floor, quivering with terror, and spluttering unintelligible words. he lifted him, and drew him without, then shouted to samuel, who came up, and together they carried him to the house. only when there, and when he had drunk some brandy, was he able to give an account of what had taken place. he had been looking at the cow, and feeling it, when down out of the hayloft had come leaping the form of the rooinek lieutenant, which had sprung in between him and the cow, and, stooping, had wrapped a white rag round his thigh, above the knee. and now the whole of his leg was dead and livid. “there is nothing for it, father, but to have your leg amputated," said pete. “the doctor told me as much. he said that mortification would set in if there was no return of circulation.” "i won't have it off! what good shall i be with only one leg ?" exclaimed the old man. “but father, it will be the sole means of saving your life.” “i won't have my leg off!" again repeated jacob. pete said in a low tone to his mother : " have you seen any dark spots on his leg? the doctor said we must look for them, and, when they come, send for him at once." "no," she replied, “i have not noticed any, so far." “then we will wait till they appear." on the fifth day the farmer was constrained to keep his bed. he had now become a prey to abject terror. so sure the white flag 377 as the hour of sunset came, did a new visitation occur. he listened for the clock to sound each hour of the day, and as the afternoon drew on he dreaded with unspeakable horror the advent of the moment when again the apparition would be seen, and a fresh chill be inflicted. he insisted that his wife or pete should remain in the room with him. they took it in turns to sit by his bedside. through the little window the fire of the setting sun smote in and fell across the suffering man. it was his wife's turn to be in attendance. all at once a gurgling sound broke from his throat. his eyes started from his face, his hair bristled, and with his hands he worked himself into a sitting posture, and he heaved himself on to his pillow, and would have broken his way through the backboard of his bed, could he have done so. “what is it, jacob?" asked his wife, throwing down the garment which she was mending, and coming to his assistance. “lie down again. there is nothing here." he could not speak. his teeth were chattering, and his beard shaking, foam-bubbles formed on his lips, and great sweatdrops on his brow. “pete! samuel !" she called, “come to your father.” the young men ran in, and they forcibly laid the old boer in bed, prostrate. and now it was found that the right foot had turned dead, like the left. on the evening of the seventeenth day after the visit to the well of llanelian, mrs. winifred jones was sitting on the side of her bed in the twilight. she had lighted no candle. she was musing, always on the same engrossing topic, the wrong that had been done to her and her son, and thirsting with a feverish thirst for vengeance on the wrongdoer. her confidence in the expedient to which she had re378 a book of ghosts sorted was beginning to fail. what was this recourse to the well but a falling in with an old superstition that had died out with the advance of knowledge, and under the influence of a wholesome feeling? was any trust to be placed in that woman at the workhouse? was she deceiving her for the sake of the half-sovereign ? and yet -she had seen a token that her prayer would prove efficacious. there had risen through the crystal water a column of black fluid. could it be that a widow's prayer should meet with no response ? was wrong to prevail in the world? were the weak and oppressed to have no means of procuring the execution of justice on the evildoers? was not god righteous in all his ways? would it be righteous in him to suffer the murderer of her son to thrive? if god be merciful, he is also just. if his ear is open to the prayer for help, he must as well listen to the cry for vengeance. since that evening at the spring she had been unable to pray as usual, to pray for herself—her only cry had been: “ avenge me on my adversary!" if she tried to frame the words of the lord's prayer, she could not do so. they escaped her; her thoughts travelled to the south african veldt. her soul could not rise to god in the ecstasy of love and devotion; it was choked with hate—an overwhelming hate. she was in her black weeds; the hands, thin and white, were on her lap, nervously clasping and unclasping the fingers. had anyone been there, in the grey twilight of a summer night, he would have been saddened to see how hard and lined the face had become, how all softness had passed from the lips, how sunken were the eyes, in which was only a glitter of wrath. suddenly she saw standing before her, indistinct indeed, but unmistakable, the form of her lost son, her aneurin, and he held a white napkin in his right hand, and this napkin emitted a phosphorescent glow. the white flag 379 she tried to cry out; to utter the beloved name; she tried to spring to her feet and throw herself into his arms! but she was unable to stir hand, or foot, or tongue. she was as one paralysed, but her heart bounded within her bosom. "mother," said the apparition, in a voice that seemed to come from a vast distance, yet was articulate and audible —“mother, you called me back from the world of spirits, and sent me to discharge a task. i have done it. i have touched him on the foot and calf and knee and thigh, on hand and elbow and shoulder, on one side and on the other, on his head, and lastly on his heart, with the white flag—and now he is dead. i did it in all sixteen times, and with the sixteenth he died. i chilled him piecemeal with the white flag; the sixteenth was laid on his heart, and that stopped beating.” then she lifted her hands slightly, and her stiffened tongue relaxed so far that she was able to murmur: “god be thanked !” “mother," continued the apparition, "there is a seventeenth remaining." she tried to clasp her hands on her lap, but the fingers were no longer under her control; they had fallen to the side of the chair-bed, and hung there lifeless. her eyes stared wildly at the spectre of her son, but without love in them; love had faded out of her heart, and given place to hate of his murderer. "mother," proceeded the vision, "you summoned me, and even in the world of spirits the soul of a child must respond to the cry of a mother, and i have been permitted to come back and to do your will. and now i am suffered to reveal something to you: to show you what my life would have been had it not been cut short by the shot of the boer.” he stepped towards her, and put forth a vaporous hand and touched her eyes. she felt as though a feather had 380 a book of ghosts been passed over them. then he raised the luminous sheet and shook it. instantly all about her was changed. mrs. winifred jones was not in her little welsh cottage ; nor was it night. she was no longer alone. she stood in a court, in full daylight. she saw before her the judge on his seat, the barristers in wig and gown, the press reporters with their notebooks and pens, a dense crowd thronging every portion of the court. and she knew instinctively, before a word was spoken, without an intimation from the spirit of her son, that she was standing in the divorce court. and she saw there as co-respondent her son, older, changed in face, but more altered in expression. and she heard a tale unfolded-full of dishonour, and rousing disgust. she was now able to raise her hands-she covered her ears; her face, crimson with shame, sank on her bosom. she could endure the sight, the words spoken, the revelations made, no longer, and she cried out: “aneurin ! aneurin ! for the lord's sake, no more of this! oh, the day, the day, that i have seen you standing here." at once all passed ; and she was again in her bedroom in honeysuckle cottage, north wales, seated with folded hands on her lap, and looking before her wonderingly at the ghostly form of her son. “is that enough, mother?" she lifted her hands deprecatingly. again he shook the glimmering white sheet, and it was as though drops of pearly fire fell out of it. and again all was changed. she found herself at monte carlo; she knew it instinctively. she was in the great saloon, where were the gaming-tables. the electric lights glittered, and the decorations were superb. but all her attention was engrossed on her son, whom she saw at one of the tables, staking his last napoleon. it was indeed her own aneurin, but with a face on the white flag 381 which vice and its consequent degradation were written indelibly. he lost, and turned away, and left the hall and its lights. his mother followed him. he went forth into the gardens. the full moon was shining, and the gravel of the terraces was white as snow. the air was fragrant with the scent of oranges and myrtles. the palms cast black shadows on the soil. the sea lay still as if asleep, with a gleam over it from the moon. mrs. winifred jones tracked her son, as he stole in and out among the shrubs, amid the trees, with a sickening fear at her heart. then she saw him pause by some oleanders, and draw a revolver from his pocket and place it at his ear. she uttered a cry of agony and horror, and tried to spring forward to dash the weapon from his hand. then all changed. she was again in her little room in the dusk, and the shadowy form of aneurin was before her. “mother," said the spirit, “i have been permitted to come to you and to show to you what would have been my career if i had not died whilst young, and fresh, and innocent. you have to thank jacob van heeren that he saved me from such a life of infamy, and such an evil death by my own hand. you should thank, and not curse him." she was breathing heavily. her heart beat so fast that her brain span; she fell on her knees. “mother," the apparition continued, “ there were seventeen pebbles cast into the well.” “yes, aneurin,” she whispered. “and there is a seventeenth white flag. with the sixteenth jacob van heeren died. the seventeenth is reserved for you." “aneurin! i am not fit to die." “mother, it must be, i must lay the white flag over your head." “oh! my son, my son!”. 382 a book of ghosts for .cations ought jalust aton “ it is so ordained,” he proceeded; “but there are love and mercy on high, and you shall not be veiled with it till you have made your peace. you have sinned. you have thrust yourself into the council-chamber of god. you have claimed to exercise vengeance yourself, and not left it to him to whom vengeance in right belongs." “i know it now," breathed the widow. “and now you must atone for the curses by prayers. you have brought jacob van heeren to his death by your imprecations, and now, fold your hands and pray to god for him—for him, your son's murderer. little have you considered that his acts were due to ignorance, resentment for what he fancied were wrongs, and to having been reared in a mutilated and debased form of christianity. pray for him, that god may pardon his many and great transgressions, his falsehood, his treachery, his self-righteousness. you who have been so greatly wronged are the right person to forgive and to pray for his soul. in no other way can you so fully show that your heart is turned from wrath to love. forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us." she breathed a “yes." then she clasped her hands. she was already on her knees, and she prayed first the great exemplar's prayer, and then particularly for the man who had wrecked her life, with all its hopes. and as she prayed the lines in her face softened, and the lips lost their hardness, and the fierce light passed utterly away from her eyes, in which the lamp of charity was once more lighted, and the tears formed and rolled down her cheeks. and still she prayed on, bathed in the pearly light from the summer sky at night. without, in the firmament, twinkled a star; and a night-bird began to sing. “and now, mother, pray for yourself.” then she crossed her hands over her bosom, and bowed the white flag 383 her head, full of self-reproach and shame; and as she prayed, the spirit of her son raised the white flag above her and let it sail down softly, lightly over the loved head, and as it descended there fell from it as it were a dew of pale fire, and it rested on her head, and fell about her, and she sank forward with her face upon the floor. r.i.p. plymouth william brendon and son printers a catalogue of books published by methuen and company: london 36 essex street w.c. contents page . 2-24 general literature, . antiquary's books, . business books, . . . . . page little galleries, . . . little guides, · : 29 little library, . . . . 29 methuen's miniature library, rariora, . . . . . school examination series, . social questions of to-day,. byzantine texts, . . . . churchman's bible, . churchman's library, classical translations, commercial series, . connoisseurs library, . textbooks of technology, . . , . handbooks of theology, . . . library of devotion, university extension series,. . illustrated pocket library of westminster commentaries, 32 26 28 28 plain and coloured books, . junior examination series . methuen's junior school-books, leaders of religion, . . little biographies, . . ' little blue books, . . fiction, · · · · · 32-39 books for boys and girls, 39 novels of alexandre dumas, . 39 methuen's one shilling novels, 39 the novelist, . . . . 28 little books on art, sixpenny library september 1904 a catalogue of messrs. methuen's publications colonial editions are published of all messrs. methuen's novels issued at a price above 2s, 6d., and similar editions are published of some works of general literature. these are marked in the catalogue. colonial editions are only for circulation in the british colonies and india. part i.-general literature abbot (jacob). the beechnut book. this book is completely different from edited by e. v. lucas. illustrated. the large folio edition of national sports' demy 16mo. 2s.6d. (little blue books. by the same artist, and none of the plates acatos (m. j.). see l. a. sornet. are similar. 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'it cannot be denied that “the master christian" is a powerful book ; that it is one ardath: the story of a dead likely to raise uncomfortable questions in self. fifteenth edition. all but the most self-satisfied readers, and the soul of lilith. twelfth edit. that it strikes at the root of the failure of the churches-the decay of faith-in a wormwood. thirteenth edition. manner which shows the inevitable disaster heaping up... the good cardinal bonpré barabbas: a dream of the is a beautiful figure, fit to stand beside the world's tragedy. thirty-ninth good bishop in “les misérables." it is a edition. book with a serious purpose expressed with 'the tender reverence of the treatment absolute unconventionality and passion ... and the imaginative beauty of the writing and this is to say it is a book worth readhave reconciled us to the daring of the con ing.' -examiner, ception. this “dream of the world's temporal power: a study in tragedy" is a lofty and not inadequate supremacy. (150th thousand, paraphrase of the supreme climax of the 'it is impossible to read such a work as inspired narrative.'-dublin review. “temporal power" without becoming conthe sorrows of satan. forty: vinced that the story is intended to convey eighth edition. certain criticisms on the ways of the world a very powerful piece of work. ... and certain suggestions for the betterment the conception is magnificent, and is likely of humanity. ... if the chief intention of to win an abiding place within the memory the book was to hold the mirror up to of man. ... the author has immense comshams, injustice, dishonesty, cruelty, and mand of language, and a limitless audacity. neglect of conscience, nothing but praise ... this interesting and remarkable romance can be given to that intention.'-morning will live long after much of the ephemeral post. literature of the day is forgotten. ... a god's good man: a simple love literary phenomenon . . . novel, and even story. anthony hope's novels. crown 8vo os. each. the god in the car. ninth edition. i human nature. the characters are traced a very remarkable book, deserving of with a masterly hand.'-times. critical analysis impossible within our limit: 1 a man of mark. fifth edition, brilliant, but not superficial : well conof all mr. hope's books, “a man of sidered, but not elaborated; constructed mark" is the one which best compares with with the proverbial art that conceals, but "the prisoner of zenda."'national 06yet allows itself to be enjoyed by readers seruer. to whom fine literary method is a keen the chronicles of count pleasure.'the world. antonio. fifth edition. it is a perfectly enchanting story of love a change of air, sixth edition. and chivalry, and pure romance. the 'a graceful, vivacious comedy, true to ! count is the most constant, desperate, and fiction 33 modest and tender of lovers, a peerless of his women with marvellous subtlety and gentleman, an intrepid fighter, a faithful | delicacy.'-times. friend, and a magnanimous foe.'--gwardian. | the king's mirror. fourth edition. phroso. illustrated by h. r. millar. 'in elegance, delicacy, and tact it ranks with the best of his novels, while in the wide sirth edition. the tale is thoroughly fresh, quick with range of its portraiture and the subtilty of its analysis it surpasses all his earlier vitality, stirring the blood.'-st. james's gazette. ventures.' spectator. quisante. fourth edition. simon dale. illustrated. sixth edition. the book is notable for a very high liter"there is searching analysis of human ary quality, and an impress of power and nature, with a most ingeniously constructed mastery on every page.' daily chronicle. plot. mr. hope has drawn the contrasts 'the dolly dialogues. w. w. jacobs' novels crown 8vo 35. 6d. each. many cargoes. twenty-seventh edition. | light freights. illustrated. fourth sea urchins. tenth edition. edition. a master of craft. illustrated. sixth edition, 'his wit and humour are perfectly irresis'can be unreservedly recommended to tible. mr. jacobs writes of skippers, and all who have not lost their appetite for mates, and seamen, and his crew are the wholesome laughter. spectator. the best humorous book published for jolliest lot that ever sailed.'-daily news. many a day.'-black and white. 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'a splendid study of character.'here we find romance-real, breathing, athenaeum. living romance. the character of valmond the translation of a savage. is drawn unerringly,'-pall mall gasette. second edition. an adventurer of the north: the trail of the sword. illus: the last adventures of 'pretty pierre.' trated. eighth edition. third edition. 34 messrs. methuen's catalogue the present book is full of fine and mov. / romance of two kingdoms. illustrated. ing stories of the great north.'-glasgow fourth edition. herald. nothing more vigorous or more human has come from mr. gilbert parker than this the seats of the mighty. illus. novel.'-literature. trated. thirteenth edition. mr. parker has produced a really fine the pomp of the lavilettes. second edition. 39. 60. historical novel.' --athenaum. unforced pathos, and a deeper knowa great book.'--black and white. ledge of human nature than he has displayed the battle of the strong: al before.'-pall mall gazette. arthur morrison's novels crown 8vo. 6s. each. tales of mean streets. sixth | cunning murrell. edition. admirable. ... delightful humorous 'a great book. the author's method is relief ...a most artistic and satisfactory amazingly effective, and produces a thrilling achievement.'-spectator. sense of reality. the writer lays upon us the hole in the wall. third a master hand. the book is simply appalling edition, and irresistible in its interest. it is humorous a masterpiece of artistic realism. it has also ; without humour it would not make the mark it is certain to make.'-world. a finality of touch that only a master may achild of the jago. fourth edition. command.'-daily chronicle. the book is a masterpiece.'-pall mall 'an absolute masterpiece, which any gazette. novelist might be proud to claim.'-graphic. to london town. second edition. ""the hole in the wall" is a masterly *this is the new mr. arthur morrison, piece of work. his characters are drawn gracious and tender, sympathetic and with amazing skill. extraordinary power.' human.'-daily telegraph. daily telegraph. 109. extraocters a masteri. legraph eden phillpotts' novels crown 8vo. 6s. each. lying prophets. and ampler air than breathes in the circum children of themist, fifth edition. scribed life of great towns.'-spectator. the human boy. with a frontispiece. the river. third edition. fourth edition. "“the river" places mr. phillpotts in the 'mr. phillpotts knows exactly what front rank of living novelists.'punch. school-boys do, and can lay bare their in. since “lorna doone" we have had most thoughts; likewise he shows an all! nothing so picturesque as this new romance." pervading sense of humour.'-academy. birmingham gazette. sons of the morning. second 'mr. "phillpotts's new book is a masteredition, piece which brings him indisputably into 'a book of strange power and fascina. the front rank of english novelists.' pall tion.'morning post. mall gasette. the striking hours. second edition. this great romance of the river dart. 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throne of david, by j. h. ingrahamn. grimm's fairy stories. illustrated by george across the salt seas. by j. bloundelle cruikshank. burton. george and the general by w. pett ridge, the mill on the floss. by george eliot. the joss. by richard marsh peter simple. by captain marryat. | miser hoadley's secret. by a. w, marchmont. er. by h. b. mislated by cary. adc in versity ins 116:.. 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