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The Diary Of Mr Poynter
The sale-room of an old and famous firm of book aucti...

The Difficulty Of Crossing A Field
One morning in July, 1854, a planter named Williams...

Elevation Cottage Design I
This cottage is 10 feet high, from the sill to the plat...

The Miraculous Case Of Jesch Claes
In the year 1676, about the 13th or 14th of this M...

The Mignonette
Mrs. Herbert returned with her husband from London to t...

Sister Maddelena
Across the valley of the Oreto from Monreale, on the ...

Love Rewarded
Lost in the heart of Peking, in one of the most peace...

Farm House Design Vii
A Plantation House.—Another southern house is here pres...

Notre Dame Des Eaux
West of St. Pol de Leon, on the sea-cliffs of Finiste...

Farm House 3 Interior Arrangement
As has been remarked, the main entrance front to this h...

The Milkman And Church-yard Ghost

A man much addicted to the heinous sin of drunkenness, in coming home
late one winter's night, had to cross Stepney church-yard; where, close
to the foot path, a deep grave had been opened the day before. He, being
very drunk, staggered into the grave; it was a great mercy he did not
break his neck, or any of his limbs; but, as it rained hard all night,
and the grave was so deep that he could not got out, he had but an
uncomfortable bed. For some hours nobody passed by; till, shortly after
the clock had struck four, a milkman, who had been to the cow-house for
his milk, came by, and said to himself, "I wonder what o'clock it is."
The man in the grave hallooed out, "Just gone four." The milkman seeing
nobody, immediately conceived a ghost from one of the graves had
answered him, and took to his heels with such rapidity, that when he
reached an ale-house he was ready to faint; and, what added to his
trouble, in running, he so jumbled his pails as to spill great part of
his milk. The people who heard his relation, believed it must have been
a ghost that had answered him. The tale went round, and would have been
credited, perhaps, till now, had not the drunkard, sitting one day in
the very alehouse the milkman had stopped at, on hearing the story
repeated, with a hearty laugh acknowledged himself to be the ghost, and
that he had much enjoyed the jumbling of the man's pails, as he ran
away, and the loss which it occasioned him.

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