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Ghost Stories

Back From That Bourne
ANONYMOUS We are permitted to make extracts from a...

Ticonderoga"
Inverawe rose before dawn and went straight to the cave...

The Ghostly Adventurer
About thirty years ago, some labouring mechanics met ...


A quarter of an hour later he appeared again at the bot...

What The Professor Saw
This story is not so painful as the one entitled "_Wh...

Repentance Tower
SCENE I. TEMPTATION Late one spring evening not lo...

The Unfortunate Priest And Dead Body
In a province of Prussia, a man being dead, was carri...

The Fresco
In the Great Highway of Eternal Fixity, Mong Flowing-...

The White Lady Of Rownam Avenue Near Stirling
Like most European countries, Scotland claims its sha...

The Apparition Of Mrs Veal
This relation is matter of fact, and attended ...





MONTAGUE RHODES JAMES




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 Bagneres-de-Luchon. It was the site of a bishopric until the Revolution, and has a cath...

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 Bagneres-de-Luchon. It was the site of a bishopric until the Revolution, and has a cathedral ...

Lost Hearts
It was, as far as I can ascertain, in September of the year 1811 that a post-chaise drew up before the door of Aswarby Hall, in the heart of Lincolnshire. The little boy who was the only passenger in the chaise, an...

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. ...

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 h...

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 i...

'oh, Whistle, And I'll 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 h...

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 stateme...

Mr Humphreys And His Inheritance
About fifteen years ago, on a date late in August or early in September, a train drew up at Wilsthorpe, a country station in Eastern England. Out of it stepped (with other passengers) a rather tall and reasonably g...

Martin's Close
Some few years back I was staying with the rector of a parish in the West, where the society to which I belong owns property. I was to go over some of this land: and, on the first morning of my visit, soon after br...

The Stalls Of Barchester Cathedral
This matter began, as far as I am concerned, with the reading of a notice in the obituary section of the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for an early year in the nineteenth century: On February 26th, at his residence ...

Casting The Runes
_April 15th, 190-_ Dear Sir, I am requested by the Council of the ---- Association to return to you the draft of a paper on _The Truth of Alchemy_, which you have been good enough to offer to read at our forth...

A School Story
Two men in a smoking-room were talking of their private-school days. 'At _our_ school,' said A., 'we had a ghost's footmark on the staircase. What was it like? Oh, very unconvincing. Just the shape of a shoe, with a...

The Rose Garden
Mr and Mrs Anstruther were at breakfast in the parlour of Westfield Hall, in the county of Essex. They were arranging plans for the day. 'George,' said Mrs Anstruther, 'I think you had better take the car to Mald...

The Tractate Middoth
Towards the end of an autumn afternoon an elderly man with a thin face and grey Piccadilly weepers pushed open the swing-door leading into the vestibule of a certain famous library, and addressing himself to an att...