GHOST-STORIES UNVEILED.

IN former times, ghost-stories constituted much of the fireside talk; the weird tale was told of how a spectre clothed in appropriate white was seen to appear, and in due course to vanish; and the hearers, duly impressed with the apparent truth of a tale, for which no natural reason was vouchsafed, became themselves in a measure forced to believe. Science and common-sense are, however, now robbing these absurd stories of much of their glamour, by explaining in a simple straightforward way what by many has hitherto been held to be supernatural and therefore unaccountable. With these remarks we proceed to either offer a few instances of explained ghost-stories steps in kindly supplied to us by a contributor. He says:

      What I am going to do is simply to give some instances in which what might have made a capital ghost-story, proved to be nothing of the kind, and to draw from thence the inference that all such stories could, if only we were acquainted with all the facts, be accounted for by natural causes.

      I have myself been sorely puzzled to account for what I have seen. On one occasion I was passing by a cemetery on my way to a distant part of my parish. The night was dark and foggy; and as I walked along the road close to the iron fence, I perceived within the inclosure, apparently seemed to come up from the ground. Now my impressions were all in favour of ghosts, and if my judgment also had been equally in favour, I should have had a ghost-story to tell about that place. But I was determined to seek an explanation of the phenomenon; so I went up to the railings and looked hard at the light, but could make nothing of it. At the same time I became conscious of a dull sound proceeding from the ground where it stood. I could not understand it; and there I stood peering in until my ears suddenly gave me a clue to the mystery, for I fancied I detected the thud of a mattock. And such it was The sexton was working against time to dig for a large vault, and the mysterious light was nothing more or less than that of his lantern, some feet below the surface, which threw up into the foggy air a volume of strange misty brightness. But really it made a very creditable ghost.

      Another adventure I had was more laughable, but not less perplexing at the time. The night was very dark indeed; and as I took a sudden turn in the road, I saw a feebly illuminated figure moving slowly some distance in advance and in the same direction with myself. My first impression was that some one was going to try to frighten me; so I grasped my stick, intending, as boys say, to 'whack in' to the culprit. But as I drew nearer, the figure stopped; and in a moment or two the illumination became somewhat brighter. I got close up to it, prepared to strike, but for the life of me could not tell what it was. I passed it close, and looked round into it, and found it was an old woman going home from a day's washing. She had on, poor soul, a very attenuated cloak, relying through which the light of the lantern she was carrying feebly penetrated, and when she had stopped to snuff the candle with her fingers, the light of course burned brighter. She was very deaf, and had not heard my footsteps; so that when I spoke I frightened her, I fear, more than she had frightened me.

      Talking of not hearing footsteps in the dark. I remember once alarming a neighbour most unintentionally; and had he not discovered the true cause, he might to this day have had a tale of mystery to unfold upon the subject. I was walking briskly home one night with a map — mounted with rings for hanging it to a wall — under my arm and goloshes on my feet. The rings kept up a sort of clicking noise as I went, while the goloshes caused me to glide along the damp lane with the noiselessness of a cat. But I never thought of either circumstance till afterwards. Hearing footsteps in front, I fancied it might be my neighbour, it being about his time for coming home, so I pushed on. But the quicker I went the farther off he seemed. I went faster still, but still I came not up with him; until, determined to overtake him, I set off running at a brisk pace and only reached him as he was passing into his gate, having, beyond the possibility of doubt, made a run for it himself. Whether he took the clicking of the rings, unaccompanied by the sound of footsteps, for the clicking of a pistol or the mysterious rattle of a fancied ghost, I cannot say; but this is certain, that if he had only stopped or even not run away, he would have found out the cause of what was undoubtedly a curious accompaniment on a dark night.

      A gentleman living in a country-house which I had once inhabited, wrote to ask me whether during my residence there I had ever heard any reports of its being 'haunted.' He did not believe in such things himself, he said, but he always liked when he heard of anything of the kind, to investigate the matter as far as possible. It was a very sensible thing to do; and I was able to give him a satisfactory explanation. It was news to me that the house had this evil reputation; but when I heard of it, it immediately occurred to my mind how it was to be accounted for. It so happened that a certain mischievous female member of my family had, towards the latter part of my stay in that house, been guilty of the cruelty of terrifying the servants almost out of their wits. She appeared one night in their room covered over with a sheet, which sheet was raised high over her head by means of a stick, to the end of which was fastened a bull's-eye lantern — a ghost of commanding stature and terrific gaze. It is very wrong to play such tricks, as the consequences might be serious to some weak minds. In this case, however, no harm was done, except that the servants were unalterably settled in the persuasion that they had seen a ghost, and that they had, as a matter of course, inoculated the village with their own firm belief that the house was haunted.

      Little things are apt to be magnified, and the simplest things frequently become mysterious, in the stillness and darkness of the night. When living in London, I was one night aroused by my sister coming into my room to tell me that some one was trying to break into the house by the front-door. I looked out of the window, but could see no one, though a low jarring noise could be heard. The statutory procession was formed. First came I, holding a poker warily, and looking anxiously for a human head; then came a servant, who had first given the alarm, lifting aloft a candle to aid me in the search; and last of all came my sister, bold as a lion, though pale as death. As we slowly descended thus in battle-array, I could distinctly hear the fitful jarring sound from the region of the street-door; but I declare I could not in the least make out the cause of it until I had got quite up to the door, and then the mystery was solved. One of the family had come home late, fastened the door as he thought, put up the chain, and gone to bed. But the door had not been fastened; the bolts though shot, had not been sent home, and so the door kept swinging backwards and forwards in the gentle night-breeze as far as the chain would let it. Had the house been reputed "haunted," it would have suggested a ghost, just as anything strange will suggest one where the mind is suitably impressed with the idea of the thing. Thus a relative of mine used to relate how frightened he had been when a boy in coming down the stairs of an old tower of ghostly fame, at the top of which he and other boys had been amusing themselves until the shades of evening surprised them. It was his fate to bring up the rear, and he no doubt felt in consequence his exposure to the enemy in black, and sure enough he heard a hollow step behind him keeping step exactly after him; when he hurried, that hurried; when he paused at some difficulty in the descent, that paused also; but when at length he emerged from the darkness with a final rush, no ghost came out after him. But he recollected that he had got a bag of ginger-bread nuts in the hinder pocket of his long great-coat; and the flapping of that in the stairs was the mysterious sound that had so alarmed him.

      It may be said that instances like these, in which what seemed at first mysterious and ghost-like was perfectly accounted for by natural causes, can never, how many soever they be, disprove the reality of far more remarkable appearances which are vouched for on the most respectable testimony, and which have never been accounted for on any theory, apparently explainable. Still, their reality as mysteries depends on the credibility of the testimony in their favour, and a complete knowledge of all the circumstances All I maintain is, that the frequent and, in my own experience, the invariable explanation of things of this sort (that at first looked unaccountable) by natural causes, sets us in the right direction for inquiry, and affords presumptive evidence that all such things might, if only we knew all the facts, be similarly explained. It must be remembered, moreover, that while it is true that far more marvellous ghost-stories than those I have related have been solemnly placed on record, it is equally true on the other hand that the operation of purely natural causes can furnish explanations far more subtle and complete than those which sufficed to dissipate all my ghosts. The phenomena of Nature in all their varieties of combination can never be fully known; while as regards the credibility of witnesses, we want to know not only that their veracity is unimpeachable, but also that their judgment is sound, and their health, both bodily and mental, not abnormal. I remember a friend telling me with the most evident sincerity that he felt sure he should succeed in some enterprise he had begun because he had just seen seven ducks waddling one after the other. He was an excitable man, just then in highly nervous condition; and if he had said he had seen seven ghosts instead of seven ducks, I should have believed him, but set the ghosts down to mental aberration.

      What condition the witnesses were in who saw the following "well-accredited" feat of a ghost, I will not venture to determine. The story is related by an enthusiastic believer in and even admirer of ghosts of every sort and kind, and the ghost and witnesses are all phlegmatic Germans. "One night as Kezer lay in his bed, and the servant was standing near the glass door in conversation with him, to his utter amazement he saw a jug of beer which stood on a table in a room at some distance from him, slowly lifted to a height of about three feet, and the contents poured into a glass that was standing there also, until the latter was half full. The jug was then gently replaced, and the glass lifted and emptied, as by some one drinking; whilst the servant exclaimed in terrified surprise: 'Look, it swallows!' The glass was quietly replaced, and not a drop of beer was to be found on the floor."

      No doubt there was not; and let us hope the ghost was all the better for having taken only the half-glass. But what scrutinising of the witnesses we should require before believing such nonsense as this! What, we repeat, must have been their condition!

      Even without anything abnormal or diseased, there unquestionably are mysteries of our nature which we cannot fathom, and which perhaps we had better not try to comprehend, but which when brought to notice by accident or design, might seem preternatural. Thus the power of what is called second-sight, of which remarkable instances have been given by persons not likely to be deceived, is not really, as some have supposed, a preternatural gift, but may be accounted for simply as an extraordinary faculty possessed by some, under certain conditions, of reading what is in the mind of another when brought in contact voluntarily and for that very purpose with the person who has the gift. There are, in like manner, many remarkable faculties naturally possessed by people as part of their peculiar constitution which, if only we were aware of the fact, would explain many a circumstance that bears on the face of it the stamp of mystery. I have a friend who cannot sleep unless his head is turned towards the north. The first time he slept in my house his bed was against a south wall, but he was not aware of it. In the morning he told me he could not sleep until he had placed the bolster and pillow where his feet had been; and so the clothes were found arranged, to the great amusement of the housemaid.

      The inference I draw then is: that the true explanation of all ghost-stories, however marvellous, is to be found in natural causes, in a knowledge of all the facts and circumstances of each particular case. These explanations will sometimes, as in the instances I have given, lie on the surface; sometimes they will lie more deeply within the mysteries of our complex nature and the surroundings, and have to be studied and searched out; and sometimes they may be so deep down as to be quite beyond the reach of either our powers or opportunities of investigation, though doubtless still perfectly natural. But when we consider how credulous human nature is in regard to mysteries that have no higher authority than that of men, and that are only morbid and unwholesome in their tendencies; and when, moreover, we take into account how almost unlimited are the resources in nature for the explanation of what at first seemed supernatural, it appears to me to be decidedly better, safer, manlier, more rational, and at the same time more respectful towards what is truly supernatural, to relegate all ghost-stories without exception and without hesitation to the domain of wonders that have a purely earthly origin.

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MORE GHOST-STORIES UNVEILED.

ON the above subject, which was lately noticed in this Journal, a correspondent sends us the following:

      "A few years ago I removed into a new and larger house with a young family. Some nights after my removal I was awakened in the middle of the night by a distinct knocking twice or thrice repeated at my bedroom door. I called out: 'Who's there?' There was no reply; but after an interval of a few minutes the knocking was repeated as distinctly as before. Again the same question: "Who's there?" and again no reply; but again came the knocking, if possible more distinct and louder than before, and just as if a person outside in the lobby had struck sharply and repeatedly with his knuckles on the door. I sprang rapidly from bed on its being repeated, and rushed to the bedroom door and opened it, determined to catch the knocker. But there was no one outside; and no one could have escaped down the staircase, which was what is called a well-staircase, brilliantly lighted with a flood of moonlight, which streamed through the skylight window. I am not and never was spirit-stricken or superstitious; but I will confess my sensations now became trying; my heart began to throb, and I returned to bed with ears painfully awake. Again came the knocking, clear and distinct and methodical as before. Although feeling very uneasy, I crept silently out of bed and stretched myself on the floor with my head on the boards and a few feet from the bedroom door, to find out if possible from what part of the door the knocking proceeded. Again it came as before, and I could distinctly refer it to the lowest part or panel of the door. I suddenly opened the door; but with the same result as before; and again I lay in my former position. Again came the knocking, three or four distinct taps; and now fixing my eyes steadily on the spot from which the tapping proceeded, I saw the knuckle-bone of a leg of lamb, about the size of a very small walnut, jerked repeatedly against the skirting that lay alongside the door. The skirting was thinner than the sounding-board of a piano; and it was the sudden tapping of the little bone against the sounding-board that produced the repeated knocking. But how was the tapping produced? By a mouse that had found its way along the hollow space behind the wainscot. It had bored a hole in the very lowest part of the wainscot very nearly on a level with the floor, had found its little bone left after the children's dinner, and had dragged it to the entrance of its hole, but could not get it through. It had dragged through the tough bit of sinew which is attached to the end of the bone — popularly known in mutton as the Gentleman's Bone — and was trying by jerking it backwards to bring the bone itself through; and each jerk gave a blow against the thin sounding-board, and each blow gave out the sound or mysterious knock. Had I not discovered this, no reasoning could have convinced me that I had not heard knocks at my bedroom door; and I should in all probability have attributed them to what is termed supernatural agency.

      "My next experience was if possible more puzzling. In the neighbourhood of Dublin, on the rocky sea-coast of Dalkey, there are several castles supposed to have been erected by the Danes for the protection of their traders. They are still in fair preservation, and have dwelling-houses of modern construction built against them. One of these old castles stands on the very verge of the sea, over what was once a rocky inlet, but is now a harbour called Bullock Harbour, along the opposite side of which is a row of fishermen's cottages, principally inhabited by men who earn their livelihood as pilots. The dwelling-house attached to this old castle I with my family occupied in the summer, for health's sake and to enjoy boating, of which I was fond. I observed some time after taking up my residence in it, that no matter at what time I retired to bed — and I generally sat up one or two hours after the other members of my family had retired — the servants from the kitchen story selected the same moment for their departure.

      "This unceasing regularity became at last annoying, and I insisted on knowing the cause. The information given to me was that the old castle and house were haunted, and that for no inducement would the servants remain after I had ascended from the parlour. I had now reason for thinking there was some ground for the fears. The pantry particularly, and the rest of the house with it, were walked over by footsteps at night. These were plainly heard; and there was added an additional aggravation; for, not content with this, the 'supernatural' visitor began to do mischief, and generally in the gray of the morning made free with eatables and pots of jam on the shelves, occasionally breaking a glass or plate! To add to the mystery, though the pantry was carefully locked every night the depredations still continued, and at length the terror of each night's visitation became greater and greater, and various stories began to be circulated, one being that the visitant was the spirit of a nun condemned to suffer the pangs of hunger for some transgression. This was supported by the circumstance of the old castle and grounds having been some years before occupied as a convent. The only opening into the pantry was through a ventilator in the roof, very high up, and adjoining one of the lofty, walls of the old castle. Through this no human being could obtain an entrance; but it was entered by a monkey, who came to it in this way. One of the pilot-boats was taking off a pilot to a ship, to relieve the one on duty, when the monkey, sick I suppose of the sea, and determined not to lose the opportunity, jumped into the boat, and on nearing the shore, jumped out again, and sought the nearest shelter, which happened to be the old castle. The ship was from the West Indies, laden with sugar. The monkey, though missed from the homeward-bound, was unnoticed by the pilot crew, and finding his way from the castle to the ventilator of the adjoining dwelling-house pantry, sought to allay his hunger there when all was quiet at night. By day the creature lay hidden in the old castle; and it was only after a lapse of many days and nights that poor Jacko was discovered peeping out from his lodging in the old Norman keep!

      "It not unfrequently happens that houses are haunted, and kept haunted, by certain persons who have a direct interest in keeping up the silly trick. In the same neighbourhood — the neighbourhood of the old castle — was a house reputed to be haunted, and which has maintained its reputation for more than two summers. Footsteps are heard at night, doors are slammed, and on one occasion jugs of water have been poured upon some members of the family, to their great discomfort. The ghost has been clever, and has not yet been caught; but the solution is not far to find, as the care-taker has a comfortable residence gratis, which is lost when the house is let and occupied for the season."

      [We gladly offer the foregoing "ghost-stories unveiled" to our readers, as proving what we have over and over again maintained — namely that apparently unaccountable sounds or sights are, in almost every case, capable of being solved, and relegated to natural causes, by the exercise of a little perseverance and common-sense. — ED.]

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MORE GHOST-STORIES UNVEILED.

THE "ghost-stories unveiled" which have already appeared in our columns seem to have attracted considerable attention, as being endeavours on our part to shew that what are termed "supernatural occurrences" are in nearly all cases capable of being solved by the exercise of a little common-sense. We are indebted to various contributors for the following examples, all of which are guaranteed to be strictly true and may be enjoyed by even the most timid reader:

      The locality where the following occurrence took place is near a small village some eight or nine miles from the city of Armagh. On a gray December night, now about sixteen years ago, a middle-aged bachelor was returning from a Christmas party to which he had been invited by some of his village friends. Our hero, whose name was Charlie Coburn, occupied the position of land-steward to a country gentleman resident near the village. Charlie lodged at my father's, and found himself on his way home at about the hour of twelve — not an unreasonable hour for a bachelor, certainly; but then Charlie was a model to his race, and his word was a law to the parish. On his way home to our house, he required to pass through the village; and as there was a strapping lassie at the party upon whom rumour affirmed Charlie "had his eye," we can suppose his thoughts to have been occupied with meditating on the fair Mary, whose company he had just quitted, as he paced the kerb-stone with three fingers in each waistcoat pocket — his favourite attitude when in a musing mood.

      It was only a week or two before, that the introduction of gas-lamps in the village streets took place; and when our hero reached the end of the street, he was enabled, by the light of the last lamp, to perceive some person only a short distance in front of him, and proceeding in the same direction as himself. As the road to my father's was rather dreary and deserted, Charlie felt glad of the unexpected company he was about to come up with. Consequently, he withdrew his fingers from his waistcoat pockets, and went on at a swinging pace, so as to overtake the traveller as soon as possible. The latter gentleman, however, evinced not the slightest desire for Charlie's society. On the contrary, he kept moving ahead faster and faster, in proportion as his pursuer's pace increased. The two were during this time keeping their way along the footpath, which ran outside a high wall, inclosing the demesne of a nobleman who resided in the neighbourhood. In this wall, and just about a furlong or so past the last of the gas-lamps, was a curve, round which the lamp could not throw its rays, and it happened that at this very spot the gate leading into a graveyard was placed. Here the unsociable traveller suddenly and unaccountably disappeared from view.

      It was impossible he could have jumped the wall, on account of its height; neither could he have crossed the road nor gone onwards, as in either case Coburn must have seen him. Then where had he gone? Not having passed the gate, he must have gone through it. But on examining the gate, it was found to be locked; and as the bars were too close to admit the passage of any human body, the only reasonable conclusion that Coburn could arrive at was, that he had been pursuing a ghost! Having settled this point satisfactorily (though suddenly) in his own mind, he thought it might be as well if he gave the ghost a chance of pursuing him. Coburn was neither superstitious nor cowardly; but this being the first time he had ever seen a real ghost, he felt rather unnerved. Not knowing what terrible consequences his temerity might bring upon him, and believing discretion in this instance to be the better part of valour, he divested himself of his coat as quickly as possible, and throwing it over his shoulder, fled homewards, determined that if the ghost did give chase, it should not catch him without having at least a run for its victim.

      We had not gone to bed on Coburn's arrival. He came — or rather rushed — in pale as a corpse, the perspiration pouring down his cheeks. His strange and untoward appearance seemed to put us all in such a state that none appeared to know what was the proper question to ask under the circumstances. However Charlie, who, on entering, had thrown himself into a chair, and his coat upon the floor, was the first to break the silence by gasping for "a drink of spring-water." He gulped it down; and my father, who had run to the door to see if there were no highwaymen lurking in the vicinity, came in, and grasping Coburn by the wrist — to feel his pulse, I suppose — asked what had happened.

      "Oh!" pants Coburn, with horror depicted in every feature, "I — I've seen a ghost!"

      I shivered. But my father, who was not a believer in ghosts, laughed outright. This seemed to nettle our lodger considerably, as he always prided himself on his veracity, and could not bear to have it impugned, especially on so serious a subject. After he had calmed down a little, my father endeavoured to reason him out of his belief. But it was useless. "He had seen a ghost, though he never believed in them before, and there was an end of it."

      "Well," said my father, "I have never seen a ghost; but I should much like to have it to say that I had seen one; and if you think there is any chance of your ghost favouring us with a second appearance, I propose that we both set off to the graveyard at once."

      Coburn seemed very reluctant to make the experiment; but as my father began to throw some slight aspersions on his courage, he at last consented, and they both set off. They examined the gate and found it locked; peered through the bars, but saw no sign of a ghost. Thinking the gentleman might have gone a second time for a stroll towards the village, they proceeded a short distance in that direction; but imagine their feelings when, on looking back, they saw behind them not one ghost, but two! Both ghosts went through the gate as before; but proved to be nothing eerier than the shadows of the two men, thrown by the newly erected gas-lamps, the bend in the wall causing the figures to appear as if they had vanished into the graveyard!

      One evening some weeks ago, I was in my room preparing for bed, when I suddenly heard what sounded like footsteps coming along the passage leading to my room; then some one appeared to be feeling in the dark for the handle of the door, which was slightly shaken, and a low knock was heard. Of course I at once concluded that some one of the family was outside; and my door being locked, I called out to know who was there, but received no answer. Thinking this very odd, I went to the door and opened it; but, to my amazement, no one was outside, and yet I had heard no footsteps retreating. I must explain that my room is at the end of a long passage, to which you descend by five or six steps, my door forming the end of the passage (my room being at the end of one wing of the house); therefore, on opening my door, I immediately commanded the whole of the corridor, and it seemed impossible for any one to have escaped in the time; and I knew that the two rooms opening on the same passage were locked up, so that no one could have got out of sight in that way.

      Very much puzzled, I closed and locked my door; and after a brief interval the same thing was repeated. Cautious footsteps were heard approaching; then as if some one were feeling for the handle of the door in the dark, and shaking the door slightly by so doing; and then again a low knock. A second time did I open my door, but with the same result. No one was there. I frankly confess that I now began to feel somewhat uncomfortable, not on account of ghosts, but visions of thieves which floated across my mind (very irrationally, of course), and I felt persuaded that some one must be moving about the house; and yet I knew that every one else had gone to bed long ago; and I own I did not feel inclined to risk an encounter with this mysterious visitor while trying to arouse some one else, my room being some way from the rest of the family.

      Determined however, if possible to find out what it was, I crouched down with my ear to the door, listening for a repetition of the noise, which was repeated a third time. But now, owing to my closeness to the door, I discovered the disturber of my peace in a mouse! It appeared this mouse, which had very evidently lost its way, had got down into the passage, and finding retreat rather difficult (owing, I suppose, to the steps), was rushing up and down the passage at full speed, thereby producing the sound of footsteps on the carpet, and on finding its egress barred by my door, trying to escape by running up the door; but the varnished paint affording it no foothold, the impetus of its run only sufficed to carry it up a short way (thus shaking the door and slightly moving the handle), and it then fell down with a flap, thus producing the knock.

      I could not resist a hearty laugh when I found out the real cause of the disturbance; but yet it shews that stories of strange nocturnal noises should be received with great caution, for certainly I should always have declared that some one had been trying my door that night, had I not found out the real cause.

      The following story, it is to be hoped, may assist still further in dispelling fears of what are termed supernatural visitors, by explaining one reason for house-bells "ringing of themselves."

      I had quitted my temporary country residence for the winter, closed all the rooms, and left a trustworthy caretaker in charge, who occupied the kitchen. On the second night, while she sat at the fire, she was alarmed by hearing the drawing-room bell, which was high up in the passage to the kitchen, ring. She looked up into the passage, and there, surely enough, was the bell giving its last tinglings. Her husband came home from his work, and to satisfy her, went up-stairs to the drawing-room. He unlocked the door, found everything in its usual state, carpet rolled up and ornaments and candlesticks covered. He returned, disbelieving his wife's story; but she persisted in it; and she declared she would not for a year's wages remain an hour in the haunted house after nightfall. The days were at their shortest, and the husband required to be out at his work. In this difficulty her niece, a stout-hearted girl, volunteered to be her companion. Next evening the daylight disappeared as usual at an early hour, and soon afterwards the drawing-room bell rang. The niece sprang to her feet, ran into the passage, saw the bell still shaking, and rushed up into the drawing-room, which was found as before still and silent. With a good deal of entreaty, the caretaker was induced by her niece to remain in the kitchen. They again sat down at the fire, and left the passage-door open. A short time only elapsed when the bell in the passage again rang, and this time more loudly and continuously than before. The terror of the old woman now became extreme; but the younger crept cautiously round the half-open door, and there she saw the ringer of the bell — a half-starved rat, who impelled by hunger in the empty house, had made his way into the channel along which all the bell-wires had been laid from the several rooms into a common opening to the passage, and was discussing in his own thoughts the feasibility of jumping down from a height of five or six feet to the level of the kitchen floor, to seek for a supper. He was so hungered, that the presence of the girl did not frighten him away, and he remained with his forepaws in a state of unstable equilibrium, shaking the wire, while his glistening eyes shone out like two diamonds reflecting the light of the solitary kitchen candle. Had the stout-hearted girl not detected the presence of the hungry visitor, the belief would have been firm and not unreasonable, in the view of many, that some supernatural agency had rung the bell, and the legend of a haunted house would have hung round my little villa.

      The following are related in the conversational style in which they were told to our contributor.

      "I am sure none of you were ever so terrified by a ghost as I was," said my Aunt Mabel. "It was an American ghost, which perhaps accounts for its having been more wild and weird and altogether electrifying than anything ever met with in the old country. You know that I went to America when I was young, and that I spent many of my early years in a lonely farmhouse in the backwoods."

      "And without servants, Aunt Mabel?"

      "Quite true, dear. Servants would not stay in such an out-of-the-way place without higher wages than we could give them, and indeed the 'helps' we tried were often more deserving of the name of 'hinderers.' But we were all young and strong, and we never had happier days than when we all kept house together, and did the work with our own hands. Capital training it was, though at first of course we made many mistakes, everything was so new and strange to us.

      "It was soon after our arrival at this lonely place that I met with a terrible fright. My sister Isabel and I shared the same room, and one night I was awakened by hearing her crying by my side.

      'What is the matter, Isabel?'

      'Oh, a toothache, a most dreadful toothache; and I have nothing to relieve it. If I could only get some brandy; a little burnt brandy would cure it in a moment.'

      'My dear,' I said, jumping out of bed, 'I will get you some directly. I know where it is — in the parlour cupboard, and I have got the key.'

      'But you have no light.'

      'Oh, I can grope my way to the room, and then I can easily light my candle at the stove.'

      "No sooner said than done. I wrapped a shawl round me, went swiftly and quietly down-stairs, felt my way through the dark and deserted room, and succeeded in lighting my candle at the stove. But no sooner did I hold up the lighted candle to make my way to the cupboard, than the most unearthly shriek rang through the room. At the same moment the light was suddenly extinguished. I was left in total darkness, and all was still and silent as before. Chilled with horror, and trembling in every limb, I groped my way back as well as I could, and told my story to Isabel; but she was in such pain that it did not make the impression on her that I expected. I got but little sympathy.

      'It must have been the wind, or a wild-cat outside that screamed,' she said; 'and as to the light being put out, that of course was sheer accident. Candles often go out when they are just lighted. Of course,' she added, 'we are not such fools as to believe in ghosts.'

      "This rather put me on my mettle; and moved besides by her moans of intense pain, I at last braced myself up to a second attempt. I went with great determination, resolving that nothing should now hinder me from bringing the remedy to my sister. Proceeding down-stairs again, all went well till I turned from the stove with the lighted candle in my hand. Instantly the same yell resounded in my ears, while something, I could not tell what, swept past me and dashed out the light! How I reached my room I never knew, but I crawled into bed more dead than alive; and as soon as I could speak I told Isabel that no matter what happened, nothing would induce me to make the venture again.

      "Morning came at last, and with it the solution of the mystery. My brothers had come home late, bringing with them a screech-owl which they had caught, and had put into the parlour for safety till the morning. The light had of course disturbed it, and it had flown against the candle and extinguished it while uttering its peculiar and singularly hideous cry. My terror at the midnight ghost was a joke at my expense for long after."

      "I think you were very brave to go into the room a second time, Aunt Mabel."

      "Well, I think I was, I must admit. But I would have braved almost anything for Isabel, and I was a strong courageous girl, who hardly knew what fear was. Still, I can assure you that even to this day when I recall the scene, I seem still to feel the thrill of terror that shook me at the sound of that unearthly shriek. Heard for the first time in the dead of night and so close to my ear, it was truly startling and dreadful. It was a great relief when the mystery was so simply explained. But only imagine if it had never been explained! If the owl had got in unperceived, and had escaped by the chimney or an open window! How that ghostly shriek must have haunted me ever after! It would have been as frightful a ghost-story as you ever heard. But see! at the touch of the little wand of truth the ghost vanishes, and only a poor screech-owl remains!"

      "Now let me tell the story of our 'family ghost,' said Miss B——. "Such a useful, faithful, devoted spirit as it was! An Irish ghost; but not a banshee, more like a 'delicate Ariel' or household fairy. I only fear its race is extinct now, as well as that of the invaluable servants who used to identify themselves with their master's family. Our ghost was before my time; but often and often have I heard my grandmother talk of it, and what a mystery it was. The household was large and varied, consisting of the old couple, some grown-up ones, one of them married, an orphan niece, and two or three young children in the nursery. There were no railways in those days, and when any of the family intended going to the county town, they had to be up at dawn of day, take a solitary breakfast, and set out on what was then a formidable expedition. Of course the affair used to be discussed in the family the evening before, commissions given, and the time of starting fixed on. And now comes the strange part of my story. Whether the servants were up in good time or not, the fire was always lighted, the kettle boiling, and breakfast ready at the appointed time! The clothes which came from the wash were found carefully sorted out and apportioned to their respective owners; none could tell by whom. If a fire were required in the nursery, it was kept up by invisible hands. Nurse was a heavy sleeper; but no matter; her deficiencies were supplied by the obliging and indefatigable ghost. Nurse used to find as bright a fire in the morning as she had left at night, the turf-basket replenished, and all as neat and orderly as hands could make it. To get out the breakfast things, my grandmother's keys must have been taken from her room, but by whom no one could tell.

      'Leave the key-basket in my room,' said a visitor the night before he left. 'I am a light sleeper, and if the ghost comes to get my breakfast, I shall know it!'

      "Towards daybreak he heard the keys tinkle, and instantly threw a dagger, which he had hidden under his pillow, to the spot whence the sound proceeded. In the morning the dagger was found stuck into the door, but no clue to the mysterious visitor could be found.

      "At last my grandmother determined that the mystery should be solved, whatever it might be, and she prepared to sit up in her room all night, listening for the faintest sound. For a long time all was still; and my grandmother was beginning to fear that her long watch through the winter's night was only wasting her strength in vain, when at last, somewhere in the small-hours, she heard a slight thud upon the stairs. Instantly seizing her candle, she rushed out, just in time to see a slender figure in white, carrying a basket of turf on its arm. The fall of a sod from the fuel-basket was the sound she had heard. My grandmother was a brave woman, and swiftly as the white figure flitted on, swiftly did she follow after, up staircases and along passages, till just as it reached the nursery door, she overtook it, and discovered her niece walking in her sleep!

      "It seems the poor girl was so anxious about the household arrangements that she used to rise in her sleep to accomplish all that she knew ought to be done. How her zeal nearly cost her life, through the foolish rashness of a young visitor, I have already told you. She was never again permitted to sleep alone. My grandmother took her to her own bed; and clasped in her loving arms, the poor girl learned to forget her cares, and to take the full benefit of

Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep.

      "Had not my grandmother possessed good sense, courage, and resolution, the story might have had a very different ending."

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MORE GHOST-STORIES UNVEILED.
IN TWO PARTS. — PART I.

IT is undeniable that there are many sober-minded people, not in general disposed to be credulous or superstitious, who yet entertain a firm conviction that they have come across the supernatural in some shape or other, and that under circumstances in which they had as little reason to doubt the evidence of their senses as in the most common occurrences of life. On more than one occasion we have given instances of ghost-stories unveiled, with a view to allaying the fears of those who are in the habit of giving credence to what is termed the supernatural; and as we have reason to believe that our efforts have been attended by good results in various quarters, we present no apology for again taking up the subject. A well-known witty English divine once remarked that the best and most reasonable — because most convincing — way of combating the foolish fancy commonly known as a "belief in ghosts," is to make public all well-authenticated instances where such stories have been "unveiled." The following narratives, communicated by various contributors, may serve as further illustrations of the truth, that nothing of the apparently supernatural should be received which has not been submitted to the test of absolute demonstration.

      One splendid afternoon of a glorious summer, I set out on a walk from Eythorne to Deal, a distance of some six miles. I took particular note as I went along — the route being entirely strange to me — of all the landmarks, such as churches, farmhouses, the bendings of the road, &c., thinking that I should probably have to make at least part of my return walk after dark, though sure of a sufficiency of light if the moon were only shining. I reached Deal, and was beguiled by the beauty of the afternoon and evening to stay longer than I had intended. Sea and land lay bathed in the warm golden sunshine, the sky of the blightest blue, unflecked by a cloud, and the sea almost equally blue. I lingered by the shore, until the lengthening shadows began to warn me that I should find the night drawing on almost before I got far from the precincts of Deal. Hastening along, then, without any doubt of my way, and mounting the rising land at the back of the town, I found the moon was already shedding its light over the scene, and I looked forward to a delightful walk home; when suddenly a dense sea-fog rolled in from the bay, which soon enveloped the land, obscuring every object, and even obliterating the light of the moon, save for occasional rifts in the fog as it rolled rapidly inland. I soon became very doubtful of my way, as the notes I had carefully taken of landmarks were now useless. But I trudged along, knowing I was pursuing at least an onward course, till I emerged upon much higher ground, and was thankful to find that the fog was losing its density and the moon recovering its light. Inquiring at a cottage where I saw a light in the bedroom, I found that I had come right, and should soon strike the high-road from Sandwich to Dover. After this the fog seemed to lift, the moon shone out brightly, a light haze only remaining over the lower-lying country, and I soon found myself comfortably nearing Eythorne.

      The road into Eythorne from the Dover Road turns at right angles, and is straight and rather descending, so that during the day, or on a fine moonlight night, objects can be seen for a long distance. The moon had now risen considerably, and the whole country lay clearly revealed — the road to Eythorne, into which I had now turned, especially so, being chalky. I had not gone many paces when I saw, some distance on before me, a gigantic figure in white, apparently at least ten feet high. I could see too that it was moving, not towards me, but from me. I watched it narrowly for a few minutes, to satisfy myself that it was no momentary impression; but there assuredly it was, white, spectral, gigantic — and moving.

      My first thought was to beat a retreat, take the Dover Road again, and return into Eythorne through Waldershare Park; but as this would have greatly lengthened the time at which I wished to be home, and as I had already proved the park at night to be a difficult route, and had had some unpleasant experiences therein, I made up my mind rapidly that there was nothing for it but to face the spectre, or whatever it might be, "for better, for worse." Now, I thought, is all my vaunted unbelief in the supernatural to be put to the test, and perhaps to be shaken down in some dreadfully unpleasant manner. I confess I felt many a qualm as the tall figure stalked on before me; but as I had now fully made up my mind to find out what it was, if I could, I quickened my pace, almost running under the excitement. As I neared and was evidently overtaking it, I noticed that it seemed rather to lessen in its proportions, and this continued as I got nearer and nearer. It was still, however, out of all human proportion; but at this point, as I more leisurely looked about me, I began to observe that the more familiar objects known to me, the cottages by the roadside, the park gates, &c., looked unusually large also, and as I passed them, resumed their natural size. This at once became a clue to me, and I determined not to lose the chance of unravelling the mystery of the white figure, still some distance before me. As I got rapidly near it, it as rapidly decreased in size, till at length — I must say much to my relief — I found it to be nothing more than a country girl in a light dress quietly pursuing her way homewards!

      Thus, then, I discovered that the gigantic spectre of my walk was an effect due in some way to the combined action of the moonbeams and the haze in magnifying all objects looked at, at a certain distance or angle, and in this resembling the mist spectres of the Brocken and other mountains.

      Now, it is evident, if I had not been compelled to face and investigate the matter, I should have continued to believe to this day — despite my unwillingness to do so — that I had certainly seen a spectre upon such evidence of my own senses as I could not doubt. The occurrence has served me in good stead ever since, as a useful lesson, inducing me to pause in accepting apparently inexplicable phenomena without the most rigid investigation.

      I was passing the Christmas holidays a few years ago at a pretty village in the country, in medical gentleman, a near connection and great the comfortable and well-appointed house of a friend. One evening it happened that the family had all gone out to a Christmas junketing; and as I was left at home alone, I at once determined to retire to the snug little study — a very favourite resort of mine, for it was well filled with books. had one window, the sill of which was about five Like most old-fashioned country houses, the sitting-rooms were all on the ground-floor. The study feet from a gravel walk, which ran all along that side of the house, so that any one could readily have touched the window in passing.

      Having requested the maid to light the lamp for me, I was just following her to the study, when I was somewhat surprised by the girl running back into the drawing-room in a state of great perturbation, and declaring that some one had knocked sharply four times at the study window; but that, on looking out, she saw no one right or left on the gravel walk; adding, that she was much frightened and quite put out in consequence. Thinking it some joke by a possible admirer, I merely smiled at the girl's agitation, and betook myself to the study for a comfortable read.

      It was a bright clear moonlight night now; but a heavy fall of snow during the afternoon had covered every field, road, and path with its beautiful mantle of spotless white; and a sharp breeze was springing up which seemed likely to increase to a gale. I had been reading barely half an hour, when I was rather surprised to hear four or five sharp taps at the outside of the window, such as might have been given with the end of a stick. Jumping up, I instantly threw open the window and looked all around. Nothing was to be seen but the bright frosty moonlight and the clean white snow; and what I also noticed was that the snow under and near the window was perfectly smooth, untouched and untrodden; clearly indicating that neither man nor beast had passed that spot, or even near it.

      I confess I felt completely puzzled; and not knowing exactly what to think, I sat down again to read. I had not, however, got through a score of pages, when tap, tap, tap again carried me to the window, with exactly the same unsatisfactory result — nothing to be seen — nothing to be discovered. These tappings occurred three different times in the following hour and a half, and defied my utmost endeavours to find out the cause. I examined the window — which was surrounded outside by ivy and creeping plants — most carefully, but found nothing. I went outside to each end of the house, and again observed that the snow was still untrodden and untouched. I confess I was both surprised, puzzled, and annoyed. Here was an undoubted mystery, a series of tappings, the cause of which I had, after close and careful investigation, totally failed to discover. It was a mystery certainly, and one which ought to be explained; but how?

      In due time the family returned home; and after the ladies had retired, I took the doctor into the study and told him of my mysterious experiences. He laughed, and wagged his head incredulously; adding, with a merry twinkle of his keen gray eye, that he hoped, as the night was so cold, I had taken a glass of grog, and had enjoyed a comfortable sleep in the cosy arm-chair; mildly suggesting the possibility of my dreams running in the direction of supernatural sights and sounds; politely intimating, in fact, that I had been asleep and had dreamed the whole thing! This I at once refuted by reference to the maid, who proved a very willing witness indeed. The doctor seemed puzzled, sniffed sharply two or three times, took an enormous pinch of snuff, and then stood looking intently into the fire; when suddenly tap, tap, tap, tap, loud and sharp at the window, caused us both to run forward, throw it open, and look out; but, I need hardly say, with the usual result. I drew the doctor's special attention to the smooth untrodden snow, and told him I had again and again examined the window and wall both inside and out, but without effect.

      "Well, Jack, it is certainly very odd," said the doctor; "but as I am convinced the taps arise from some perfectly natural cause, I'll stop here till I find it out, if I should stay all night."

      We discussed the probable causes — tricks, cats, birds pecking, &c., but abandoned our theories almost as soon as started, until our deliberations were cut short by the tapping being again renewed louder and sharper than ever. The doctor now nearly lost his temper, and throwing open both halves of the window (it was a French, not a sash window), fetched our overcoats and hats, and proposed to extinguish the lamp, and to sit down opposite the open window, and there carefully watch. This we accordingly both did, with an amount of patience and exemplary perseverance never, perhaps, before exhibited by the most determined ghost-hunters, until, in spite of the blazing fire behind us, we were nearly half-frozen by the keen biting air and the wind, which had now increased to a complete gale. At length, temper and patience alike gave way, and as no taps or manifestations of any kind had occurred, vexed and annoyed beyond expression — for his open, honest nature hated mystery and incertitude of any kind — the doctor reluctantly closed the window, and had just slowly pulled down the blind, when the tapping was again heard as vigorously as ever.

      "So, so!" cried the doctor; "one thing at least is clear — the taps, I find, are given at the top of the window. Run, Jack, and fetch the bull's-eye lantern — the wind is too high for a candle — whilst I get the steps."

      Armed with the lantern, the doctor mounted the steps, and closely examined the whole top of the window both outside and in, but still could discover nothing. Much irritated, he was about to give up the search, when, as he projected his head through the open window, he was suddenly aware of two or three sharp taps on his forehead; and raising the bull's-eye, he then discovered a thick bit of stick hanging amongst, but concealed by a bunch of ivy leaves which drooped over the top of the window.

      "Here's the ghost — here he is — I've caught him!" exclaimed the doctor, now in high glee; "but, to make doubly sure, let's give him another chance;" and closing the half of the window and still standing on the steps, lantern in hand, he waited for the next "manifestation." This, thanks to the high wind, followed almost immediately, in the usual form of four or five sharp taps on the glass; which the doctor now distinctly saw were produced by the action of the wind on the loose branch of ivy in which the piece of wood just mentioned was sticking.

      So here was the whole mystery elucidated; and the reason why we had heard nothing during our long cold watch was also readily explained — the window being open, there was simply nothing for the wood to strike against.

      Pulling the wood out of the ivy, and throwing it down to me, the doctor said: "There, Jack, there's a real ghost for you; and one that might, but for our patience and determination, have caused this house to have been reported as 'haunted,' and made an object of horror and fear to the simple country-folk round about. Depend upon it, if people would only master their foolish fears of the supernatural, and cease to believe in so-called 'ghost-stories,' and boldly face the 'ghost' with the weapons of patience, reason, and common-sense, we should hear much oftener than we do of many such another 'ghost story — unveiled!'"

      At a social gathering of friends one evening a few years ago, the much-vexed question of supernatural appearances came under discussion. As might have been expected in these days of scientific experiment and inductive philosophy, the tone of the conversation was of a decidedly sceptical tinge. The lady of the house, anxious apparently that ghostly claims should be fairly represented, appealed to her sister-in-law, who had lived for several years in a haunted house, and begged her to say what the results of her experience had been.

      "Our house," replied the sister, "was in a bleak and lonely situation; and many years before we entered its walls, some disagreeable associations had been woven into its history. In spite of these, the place did us no harm; though I am bound to say that during our sojourn in it we heard sounds which superstitiously inclined folks might have regarded with dread. Perhaps we were not a family likely to suffer from imaginative terrors, because we were more accustomed to examine an unwonted object than to run away from it, nor did we conclude that every phenomenon not clearly understood by us must be due to supernatural causes. Often at night we heard noises in uninhabited rooms, as if articles of furniture were being moved or dragged across the floor; but these we became used to, and assigned them to such simple causes as mice, or possibly rats. But once I recollect that the clanking of a chain at midnight wakened me from a half-dreaming state to full consciousness.

      "I thought I must have been mistaken, and went quietly to sleep again; but the next night at the same hour the noise was distinctly repeated. My sister, who slept in the same room, heard it also, and was as puzzled as myself. It recurred from that time so often that we became accustomed to it also, and were almost ceasing to speculate on its cause, when one day, standing in my own room in broad daylight, I heard the clanking noise loudly repeated. A thought struck me. I ran down-stairs out of the hall door, and through a garden-path to the stable-yard, whose wall formed an angle with our side of the house. As I looked into the stable, the horse shook his chain! This was the very noise we had heard so often — the same thing which had happened night after night, when the horse wakening out of his sleep, got up, shook himself, and stamped in his stall, before composing himself for another nap. If I had not thus tracked the sound and verified it for myself, I could never have believed that it could have been so clearly heard through thick walls at such a distance."

      "Ah!" said a clergyman, who had listened to this account with much amusement, "I am persuaded that if people would take the trouble of examining such mysterious occurrences, the number of 'authenticated ghost-stories' on record would be sensibly diminished. A curious circumstance happened to my father when he was a very young man. He lived at some distance from the dwelling of the girl who afterwards became his wife and my mother. He had to work and wait for her for several years, and as for her sake he applied very closely to his business, they seldom met. But occasionally, after his day's work was over, he took a very long walk into the next county, to get a glimpse of her fair face, and perchance the treat of a quiet talk. On one of these rare occasions he bethought himself of a short cut through a village churchyard. It was not very easy of access, for the gate was locked, and a brook of some depth swept round part of the outer wall; but he was young and active, and eager to gain time; so, after a somewhat stiff climb, he found himself within the limits of the consecrated ground.

      "It was a clear moonlight night, and the tombstones stood around him in close and venerable array. Suddenly he saw something which made him start and pause. From beneath the shadow of the church wall, a tall white figure glided stealthily out into the light. My father quietly retreated behind a tombstone and watched. The figure advanced; he scanned it carefully; and beneath the white robes fluttering in the night-air, he beheld a very substantial pair of boots!

      "Said he to himself: 'Do ghosts wear boots? I wonder who makes them;' and he decided on having a closer inspection of this mysterious churchyard apparition. The figure moved on; my father quietly followed, keeping well in the shadow of the tombstones. After some little time spent in this kind of dodging, the ghost advanced to a part of the wall overlooking the road and the stream, and took up its position on the top of it. In a second my father came behind, and with a strong and sudden push, tipped the unlucky ghost into the stream which rippled below. He heard a plunge and a shout, waited a few moments to see that the fellow had struggled safely to the other side, minus his white sheet, then turned and sped on his way, rejoicing at having hit on so novel and expeditious a method of 'laying a ghost!'

      "Years passed away. My father married the lady of his choice, and they shared the usual course of life's vicissitudes together. Long after her death, he took me to visit the scene of his early wooing and the home of her girlhood. On our way from the railway station we drove through a village from which a funeral procession was issuing in solemn pomp to the churchyard. As we returned, we stopped for an hour at the inn and ordered luncheon. Like most of his class, our host was chatty and communicative, and at once entered into conversation. 'Pleasant weather, gentlemen. We have had a large funeral here to-day; the largest known in these parts for many a year. We all wished to show respect to our oldest inhabitant, William Dawkins. A very civil fellow was Bill. Many a story of the good old times he used to tell. And he had some queer adventures of his own too to talk about. You'll scarce credit me, gentlemen, but 'tis a fact that that man had seen a ghost.'

      'A ghost!' exclaimed my father, whose natural scepticism on that subject had been long since strengthened by the incident I have related. 'He dreamed of one, I suppose, or an extra glass of ale had gone to his head.'

      'Nothing of the kind, sir,' replied the landlord with great seriousness. 'Bill not only saw a ghost, but felt it, and that pretty sharply, I can tell you. The way he fell in with it was this. Some of our lads had gone to a fair that was held a few miles away, and Bill wanted to frighten the young fellows on their way home; so he just climbed into the churchyard, wrapped a sheet about him, and waited about till he thought they were close at hand. He was standing on a bit of wall just above the road, when he heard a stealthy tread coming up behind him. He turned round quickly, and there was a dark figure at his back; but before he could move, it made one rush at him and knocked him clean over into the stream that runs below. The fall and the fright took away his breath; and between the terror and the wetting, he got such a scare that he never ventured near that churchyard again after nightfall. He said it was a dangerous thing to play at ghosts, for no one knew how near the ghosts themselves might be, nor how angry with any one who dared to play pranks in haunted places.'

      'It was a strange story,' we said; but our host thought it stranger still when my father related his share in the adventure. The coincidence was certainly a curious one, and affords a specimen of the kind of foundation on which many a popular and 'well-authenticated' ghost-story may be built."

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MORE GHOST-STORIES UNVEILED.
CONCLUSION.

SOME years ago, it was my good-fortune to be a frequent visitor at a fine old manor-house in Dorsetshire, built in the reign of James I., but much altered during the last half-century. Like all old country mansions, the house was of course "haunted." Strange sounds, like footsteps, had been heard coursing about at the witching hour of night, in the vast empty garrets and along the great passage or corridor, running from end to end of the building, into which the garrets opened; and odd and mysterious rattlings and clatterings, as of metal or chains. The country-folks and servants, and especially the old people — always the most ready to stick resolutely to a good ghost-story — firmly attributed these nocturnal noises, without thought or question, to supernatural agency.

      When my friends acquired the property, they were quite aware of the evil reputation regarding ghosts, that clung to the fine old place; but not being believers themselves, they felt pretty sure that the mysterious noises, when boldly investigated, would be found to proceed from purely natural causes. Their opinions, however, were met by ominous shakes of the head on the part of the neighbours; and the great fact was invariably brought forward and solemnly insisted on that, as the original builder of the house, a certain Sir Thomas Stafford, had, in a fit of jealousy, cruelly killed his young wife, the house must, as a matter of pure reason, be haunted by her perturbed and restless spirit.

      Nothing daunted, however, my friends entered on possession, and very soon discovered that the stories they had heard were by no means unfounded. The mysterious footsteps, the strange rattlings and clatterings, were distinctly heard, but always at the top of the house — in the huge empty garrets and the long corridor — but nowhere else. A little patient intelligence, assisted by the sagacious investigations of a clever bull-terrier, soon disclosed the fact of the presence of a perfect army of rats, which generally selected the silent hours of the night as the time, and the corridor and garrets as the place, for their nocturnal parades, exercises, or gambols; and the rattlings and clatterings, so metallic in sound, were simply due to certain of the large heavy roof-tiles which were loose, and to the old and very shaky iron rain-water pipes, which, just under the eaves, rested on equally shaky iron brackets; and the two certainly made up a very peculiar and ghostly sort of sound when working together in a moderate wind and heard in the dead of night. When this was explained to the peasantry, they looked incredulous, and evidently did not at all appreciate this way of extirpating ghosts.

      But the house was not disposed to give up all at once its ghostly reputation. As I have already said, the old mansion had undergone many alterations, some of them dictated by reason, others by expediency. One of these was the removal of the fine old staircase, and the erection instead, of one of small confined dimensions, and very awkwardly situated and contrived. These stairs sprung from the foot of a wall, in which was placed, high up, a large window, so that any one going up-stairs would have this window above his head and behind his back. It was exactly opposite the wall of the first landing-place, whence the stairs branched away to the right. I am thus particular in the description, because it is very necessary to comprehend the relative positions of wall and window, in order rightly to understand distinctly what follows.

      One brilliant moonlight night, the family were about to retire to rest, when they were startled by a loud scream from one of the maids, who rushed into the dining-room, eyes staring, and mouth wide open, exclaiming wildly that she just see'd a awful ghost on the stairs, and was "most frightened to death!" All the party with one consent arose from their chairs and ran into the hall, some carrying the candles with them. But nothing whatever was to be seen. The girl, however, positively declared she had seen a tall dark figure in a long cloak and hood standing on the first landing; adding, that she saw it all the more clearly on account of the white wainscoted wall just behind, which served to throw the figure into relief. A general search, and a regular hue-and-cry all round the house, now followed; but with no result. Nothing was discovered in any way irregular, either in flesh and blood or in ghostly appearances.

      About two nights after, however, the very same thing occurred again, at nearly the same time; the spectre was again seen by the same maid, and by the footman, who happened to be just entering the hall; the man most positively declaring that the figure stood, hooded and cloaked, exactly as the maid had described, on the top of the landing. The young men rushed into the hall with lights, as before, and with the same result — they saw nothing. Two of the sons — genuine ghost-hunters, who thoroughly entered into the "fun" of the thing — determined to sit up and watch through the night, with the pleasant accompaniments of plenty of warm fire and bright light; but I need hardly say the brave watchers saw nothing, discovered nothing. His cloaked and hooded "ghostship" did not appear again that night at anyrate.

      About a month afterwards, however, the same thing occurred again. A great commotion was heard in the hall — the ghost had again appeared, and, what was even more remarkable, had slowly disappeared just as the man-servant caught sight of it. This was almost too much for my friends, especially the junior branches, who were highly indignant at being so completely "sold" by the spectre. But there was nothing to be done or discovered; so, after many threats of what they would do if they could only catch him, the whole party went off to bed.

      Nothing further occurred to disturb the family peace until three days afterwards, when Jack, the youngest son, rose from supper to let in a favourite bull-terrier, Jinks by name — the doughty hero of the garrets and corridor — who was whining piteously, and scratching vigorously at the garden door. Jack had hardly entered the hall, when he rushed back into the dining-room post-haste, and holding up his finger in a mysterious manner, intimated in a regular stage whisper: "Here's the ghost on the stairs again, hood, cloak, and all!" His brother instantly jumped up, and both ran into the hall; and there, sure enough, on the first landing of the staircase, stood a tall dark figure robed in a long cloak and high hood. The young men both regarded the apparition intently for a few moments, and then boldly ascending the stairs, both burst into a loud ringing laugh, crying out that they had caught the ghost, and shouted for the family to come out and see, but to bring no lights, and they could judge for themselves.

      The terrible mystery was now at an end. Just outside the staircase window at the rear of the house, was a small detached building used as a laundry; but, as the fireplace smoked very much, my friends had had a new and very much taller chimney erected. This was narrow at the top, and gradually got wider as it went downwards, and was capped by a large and peculiarly shaped cowl. The "ghost" proved to be merely the shadow of this chimney and cowl outside, projected, by the bright moonlight, through the staircase window, on to the clear white-painted wainscoted wall of the first landing. The sloping sides of the chimney gave the appearance of a cloaked figure, and the broad cowl looked exactly like a hood, whilst the dead white of the flat wall behind served to throw the dark shadow into very strong and bold relief. The reason now was clear why the 'ghost' was not seen oftener. It was simply that the shadow was only projected when the moon was just opposite the window; and its appearing gradually to fade before the footman's terrified gaze, is easily explained by the passage of a dark cloud at the moment over the moon's bright disc. Further, be it noted, that when the family entered the hall on the first alarm a month previously, many of them carried lights, and thus of course destroyed the appearance altogether. The window, moreover, was sometimes covered with a blind.

      Yet, it will hardly be believed, that even after these perfectly clear, and equally natural and simple explanations of both the noises and appearances which had been heard and seen in the old manor-house, it was found very difficult to convince the peasantry and workpeople of the neighbourhood of the real and true nature of the occurrences. The people had, in fact, been rather used to their old friends the "ghosts," and to the reputation possessed by the old house of being "haunted," and did not at all relish parting with them on such very ordinary, commonplace grounds.

      I will now give another instance, which partakes rather of the absurd than the terrible, though certainly mysterious enough in its way.

      An American family resident in England occupied a large old-fashioned house in one of the southern suburbs of London. They kept two or three small but very valuable birds in a light cage inside their dining-room window. The cage rested on an odd-shaped sort of stand, made of hollow tin, painted green, having one leg in the centre supporting the cage, but spreading out at the bottom, and apparently resting flat on a square piece of smooth oilcloth. But in reality the stand had three small American casters inside, by which, as the whole was very light, it was easily and readily moved about if required. The family were remarkably neat and trim in their ways; the cage always stood in the middle of the square oilcloth, and that again just in the middle of the window. One morning the servants, on entering the dining-room, found the stand moved out of its regular position, and resting, sideways, at the edge of the oilcloth. Little notice would probably have been taken of this at all, had it not occurred again and again morning after morning; and great was the surprise of all when, on inquiries being made throughout the family and servants, it was found that no one had ever touched the bird-stand, far less removed it out of its position in the centre of the oilcloth. Investigations and inquiries alike were vain; the stand was repeatedly found to have been moved first to one side of the oilcloth, then to the other; but as nobody ever appeared to have done it, the family found themselves in the greatest perplexity to account for it; and matters began to look desperate, when the real cause of the mysterious movements was discovered by the merest accident.

      It happened that one of the sons was one night sitting late in the dining-room, waiting the return of a brother from the country. He appears to have dropped asleep, and the lamp to have gone out, when, just as he woke up, he was aware of a peculiar soft sort of scratching noise proceeding from the direction of the cage. Knowing that the birds must be fast asleep at so late an hour, without moving hand or foot he quietly raised his eyes, and saw, by the bright firelight, the stand slowly moving off towards the right! "Ho, ho!" thought he; "here's the mystery of the moving bird-cage;" and kept his eyes intently fixed on the stand. With many stops and little jerks, it was proceeding, in a wriggling, odd sort of way, to the edge of the oilcloth, when a big heavy lump of coal fell out of the fire with a loud crash, into the fender; which had the effect of frightening a couple of large mice, both of which had been busy at work under the stand, but, alarmed at the noise, had run out from the opposite side, and disappeared under the window-curtain.

      Here, then, was the mystery at once explained. A hole in the skirting-board, concealed by the curtain, admitted these audacious little intruders, who were attracted to the spot by the bits of bread, sugar, corn, or seed which were dropped or spilt all round the cage and under the stand; and one caster being a little higher than the others, enabled the sagacious little foragers to get in underneath on that side; and their attempts to get out or pick up grain, just under the broad edge, easily caused so light a structure to move on its casters over the smooth oilcloth, until obstructed by the thick Turkey carpet on which the cloth rested.

      I will conclude with just another story, partaking, like the last, more of the ridiculous than of the sublime, which was related to me by a relative, now deceased, who was staying in the house, many years ago, when the occurrence actually took place.

      The house in question was situated on the north-west coast of Devonshire. It was large and very old-fashioned, with immense cellars, long passages, &c.; and there was a legend devoutly believed in by the villagers, that a notorious and peculiarly wicked and wealthy smuggler, known as "Old Peter," had committed suicide, long years before, in one of the caves amongst the rocks just below the house, rather than be taken by the soldiers who were in hot pursuit of him. It was also believed that these caves once communicated with the cellars of the mansion above; and that Old Peter's ghost on stormy nights often walked about the rocks and caves, and even the mansion itself, looking after his many sacks of gold, said to be hidden or buried somewhere thereabouts; although nobody could ever be found who at any time had seen him either in the house, on the shore, or indeed anywhere at all.

      One summer night the household were greatly startled by one of the maids, in a fearful state of fright, declaring that on going to the cellar to draw the beer, she saw an appalling sight at the end of the dark passage — namely, a frightful and, what was far worse, a luminous ghost, with great glaring eyes and wide open mouth; which, of course, could be none other than Old Peter himself, because the old rascal saluted her with a terrible groan! One of the men-servants at once entered the passage, but far more quickly retreated from it, with blanched face and staring eyes, declaring it was quite true. One or two others just peeped in, only to run screaming away; but all confirmed the statement of the undoubted presence of a hideous fiery ghost, with huge burning eyes, which every one, without a moment's hesitation, at once settled must be the veritable old smuggling villain Peter — it could, in fact, be no one else.

      The proprietor of the house, Mr S——, now appeared upon the scene; and on being informed that the ghost of Old Peter was in the cellar passage, at once divining the true state of the case, he called for lights, and bade those who were not too great cowards to follow him, and he would soon show them how to manage Old Peter. One or two of the servants — but by no means all — plucked up courage to obey, though with trembling steps. As they entered the passage, whilst the heavy old door closed behind them, the same hollow groan which had so startled the maid was again heard, and found to arise simply from the grating of a very rusty old hinge, which Mr S—— immediately pointed out. Then proceeding down the passage straight up to the end, they found Old Peter looking fearfully hideous, and still glaring in all his fiery radiance; when Mr S—— holding aloft the lights, bade his terrified followers say truly what they there saw. "Whoy, I deeclare if it beant only the big ling what Measter cotch'd in the bay t' other day!" And so it really was, and nothing more — a splendid ling, nearly five feet long, which was suspended by the head, about six feet from the ground, at the end of the long passage; and being a little stale, the whole fish was phosphorescent, and beautifully luminous in the dark. The great round eyes no doubt had a peculiar glare; whilst the open gill just below would, to a startled imagination, look not unlike an open mouth.

      But for this simple explanation, a good story would soon have got about that Old Peter had been seen in the cellar passage of the hall; and as the sight had been witnessed by several persons, it must as a matter of course be strictly true. And thus it is no doubt that many of the so-called "ghost-stories" occur, and get repeated again and again, until at last they come to be steadfastly believed in by foolish and credulous people.

(THE END)