The Last Ghost In Harmony
Scary Books: Humorous Ghost StoriesBY NELSON LLOYD
From his perch on the blacksmith's anvil he spoke between the puffs of
his post-prandial pipe. The fire in the forge was out and the day was
going slowly, through the open door of the shop and the narrow windows,
westward to the mountains. In the advancing shadow, on the pile of
broken wheels on the work-bench, on keg and barrel, they sat puffing
their post-prandial pipes and
* * * * *
For a partner in business I want a truthful man, but for a companion
give me one with imagination. To my mind imagination is the spice of
life. There is nothing so uninteresting as a fact, for when you know it
that is the end of it. When life becomes nothing but facts it won't be
worth living; yet in a few years the race will have no imagination left.
It is being educated out. Look at the children. When I was young the
bogey man was as real to me as pa and nearly as much to be feared of,
but just yesterday I was lectured for merely mentioning him to my neffy.
So with ghosts. We was taught to believe in ghosts the same as we was in
Adam or Noar. Nowadays nobody believes in them. It is unscientific, and
if you are superstitious you are considered ignorant and laughed at.
Ghosts are the product of the imagination, but if I imagine I see one he
is as real to me as if he actually exists, isn't he? Therefore he does
exist. That's logic. You fellows have become scientific and admits only
what you see and feel, and don't depend on your imagination for
anything. Such being the case, I myself admit that the sperrits no
longer ha'nt the burying-ground or play around your houses. I admit it
because the same condition exact existed in Harmony when I was there,
and because of what was told me by Robert J. Dinkle about two years
after he died, and because of what occurred between me and him and the
Rev. Mr. Spiegelnail.
Harmony was a highly intellectual town. About the last man there with
any imagination or interesting ideas, excepting me, of course, was
Robert J. Dinkle. Yet he had an awful reputation, and when he died it
was generally stated privately that the last landmark of ignorance and
superstition had been providentially removed. You know he had always
been seeing things, but we set it down to his fondness for hard cider or
his natural prepensity for joshing. With him gone there was no one left
to report the doings of the sperrit-world. In fact, so widespread was
the light of reason, as the Rev. Mr. Spiegelnail called it, that the
burying-ground became a popular place for moonlight strolls. Even I
walked through it frequent on my way home from Miss Wheedle's, with
whom I was keeping company, and it never occurred to me to go any faster
there, or to look back over my shoulder, for I didn't believe in such
foolishness. But to the most intellectual there comes times of doubt
about things they know nothing of nor understand. Such a time come to
me, when the wind was more mournfuller than usual in the trees, and the
clouds scudded along overhead, casting peculiar shadders. My imagination
got the best of my intellect. I hurried. I looked back over my shoulder.
I shivered, kind of. Natural I see nothing in the burying-ground, yet at
the end of town I was still uneasy-like, though half laughing at myself.
It was so quiet; not a light burned anywhere, and the square seemed
lonelier than the cemetery, and the store was so deserted, so ghostly in
the moonlight, that I just couldn't keep from peering around at it.
Then, from the empty porch, from the empty bench--empty, I swear, for I
could see plain, so clear was the night--from absolute nothing come as
pleasant a voice as ever I hear.
"Hello!" it says.
My blood turned icy-like and the chills waved up and down all through
me. I couldn't move.
The voice came again, so natural, so familiar, that I warmed some, and
rubbed my eyes and stared.
There, sitting on the bench, in his favorite place, was the late Robert
J. Dinkle, gleaming in the moonlight, the front door showing right
through him.
"I must appear pretty distinct," he says in a proud-like way. "Can't you
see me very plain?"
See him plain! I should think so. Even the patches on his coat was
visible, and only for the building behind him, he never looked more
natural, and hearing him so pleasant, set me thinking. This, says I, is
the sperrit of the late Robert J. Dinkle. In life he never did me any
harm and in his present misty condition is likely to do less; if he is
looking for trouble I'm not afraid of a bit of fog. Such being the case,
I says, I shall address him as soon as I am able.
But Robert got tired waiting, and spoke again in an anxious tone, a
little louder, and ruther complaining, "Don't I show up good?" says he.
"I never see you looking better," I answered, for my voice had came
back, and the chills were quieter, and I was fairly ca'm and dared even
to move a little nearer.
A bright smile showed on his pale face. "It is a relief to be seen at
last," he cried, most cheerful. "For years I've been trying to do a
little ha'nting around here, and no one would notice me. I used to think
mebbe my material was too delicate and gauzy, but I've conceded that,
after all, the stuff is not to blame."
He heaved a sigh so natural that I forgot all about his being a ghost.
Indeed, taken all in all, I see that he had improved, was solemner, had
a sweeter expression and wasn't likely to give in to his old prepensity
for joshing.
"Set down and we will talk it over," he went on most winning. "Really, I
can't do any harm, but please be a little afraid and then I will show up
distincter. I must be getting dim now."
"You are," says I, for though I was on the porch edging nearer him most
bold, I could hardly see him.
Without any warning he gave an awful groan that brought the chills
waving back most violent. I jumped and stared, and as I stared he stood
out plainer and solider in the moonlight.
"That's better," he said with a jolly chuckle; "now you do believe in
me, don't you? Well, set there nervous-like, on the edge of the bench
and don't be too ca'm-like, or I'll disappear."
The ghost's orders were followed explicit. But with him setting there so
natural and pleasant it was hard to be frightened and more than once I
forgot. He, seeing me peering like my eyesight was bad, would give a
groan that made my blood curdle. Up he would flare again, gleaming in
the moonlight full and strong.
"Harmony's getting too scientific, too intellectual," he said, speaking
very melancholic. "What can't be explained by arithmetic or geography is
put down as impossible. Even the preachers encourage such idees and talk
about Adam and Eve being allegories. As a result, the graveyard has
become the slowest place in town. You simply can't ha'nt anything
around here. A man hears a groan in his room and he gets up and closes
the shutters tighter, or throws a shoe at a rat, or swears at the wind
in the chimney. A few sperrits were hanging around when I was first
dead, but they were complaining very bad about the hard times. There
used to be plenty of good society in the burying-ground, they said, but
one by one they had to quit. All the old Berrys had left. Mr. Whoople
retired when he was taken for a white mule. Mrs. Morris A. Klump, who
once oppyrated 'round the deserted house beyond the mill had gave up in
disgust just a week before my arrival. I tried to encourage the few
remaining, explained how the sperritualists were working down the valley
and would strike town any time, but they had lost all hope--kept fading
away till only me was left. If things don't turn for the better soon I
must go, too. It's awful discouraging. And lonely! Why folks ramble
around the graves like even I wasn't there. Just last night my boy Ossy
came strolling along with the lady he is keeping company with, and where
do you s'pose they set down to rest, and look at the moon and talk about
the silliest subjecks? Right on my headstone! I stood in front of them
and did the ghostliest things till I was clean tired out and
discouraged. They just would not pay the least attention."
The poor old ghost almost broke down and cried. Never in life had I
known him so much affected, and it went right to my heart to see him
wiping his eyes with his handkercher and snuffling.
"Mebbe you don't make enough noise when you ha'nt," says I most
sympathetic.
"I do all the regular acts," says he, a bit het up by my remark. "We
always were kind of limited. I float around and groan, and talk foolish,
and sometimes I pull off bedclothes or reveal the hiding-place of buried
treasure. But what good does it do in a town so intellectual as
Harmony?"
I have seen many folks who were down on their luck, but never one who so
appealed to me as the late Robert J. Dinkle. It was the way he spoke,
the way he looked, his general patheticness, his very helplessness, and
deservingness. In life I had known him well, and as he was now I liked
him better. So I did want to do something for him. We sat studying for a
long time, him smoking very violent, blowing clouds of fog outen his
pipe, me thinking up some way to help him. And idees allus comes to them
who sets and waits.
"The trouble is partly as you say, Robert," I allowed after a bit, "and
again partly because you can't make enough noise to awaken the
slumbering imagination of intellectual Harmony. With a little natural
help from me though, you might stir things up in this town."
You never saw a gladder smile or a more gratefuller look than that poor
sperrit gave me.
"Ah," he says, "with your help I could do wonders. Now who'll we begin
on?"
"The Rev. Mr. Spiegelnail," says I, "has about all the imagination left
in Harmony--of course excepting me."
Robert's face fell visible. "I have tried him repeated and often," he
says, kind of argumentative-like. "All the sign he made was to complain
that his wife talked in her sleep."
I wasn't going to argue--not me. I was all for action, and lost no time
in starting. Robert J., he followed me like a dog, up through town to
our house, where I went in, leaving him outside so as not to disturb
mother. There I got me a hammer and nails with the heavy lead sinker
offen my fishnet, and it wasn't long before the finest tick-tack you
ever saw was working against the Spiegelnails' parlor window, with me in
a lilac-bush operating the string that kept the weight a-swinging.
Before the house was an open spot where the moon shone full and clear,
where Robert J. walked up and down, about two feet off the ground,
waving his arms slow-like and making the melancholiest groans. Now I
have been to Uncle Tom's Cabin frequent, but in all my life I never
see such acting. Yet what was the consequences? Up went the window
above, and the Rev. Mr. Spiegelnail showed out plain in the moonlight.
"Who is there?" he called very stern. You had otter see Robert then. It
was like tonic to him. He rose up higher and began to beat his arms most
violent and to gurgle tremendous. But the preacher never budged.
"You boys otter be ashamed of yourselves," he says in a severe voice.
"Louder, louder," I calls to Robert J., in answering which he began the
most awful contortions.
"You can hear me perfectly plain," says the dominie, now kind of
sad-like. "It fills my old heart with sorrow to see that yous all have
gone so far astray."
Hearing that, so calm, so distinct, so defiant, made Robert J. stop
short and stare. To remind him I gave the weight an extra thump, and it
was so loud as to bring forth Mrs. Spiegelnail, her head showing plain
as she peered out over the preacher's shoulder. The poor discouraged
ghost took heart, striking his tragicest attitude, one which he told me
afterwards was his pride and had been got out of a book. But what was
the result?
"Does you hear anyone in the bushes, dear?" inquires Mr. Spiegelnail,
cocking his ears and listening.
"It must be Ossy Dinkle and them bad friends of his," says she, in her
sour tone.
Poor Robert! Hearing that, he about gave up hope.
"Don't I show up good?" he asks in an anxious voice.
"I can see you distinct," says I, very sharp. "You never looked better."
Down went the window--so sudden, so unexpected that I did not know what
to make of it. Robert J. thought he did, and over me he came floating,
most delighted.
"I must have worked," he said, laughing like he'd die, a-doubling up and
holding his sides to keep from splitting. "At last I have showed up
distinct; at last I am of some use in the world. You don't realize what
a pleasure it is to know that you are fulfilling your mission and living
up to your reputation."
Poor old ghost! He was for talking it all over then and there and
settled down on a soft bunch of lilacs, and fell to smoking fog and
chattering. It did me good to see him so happy and I was inclined to
puff up a bit at my own success in the ha'nting line. But it was not for
long. The rattle of keys warned us. The front door flew open and out
bounded the Rev. Mr. Spiegelnail, clearing the steps with a jump, and
flying over the lawn. All thought of the late Robert J. Dinkle left me
then, for I had only a few feet start of my pastor. You see I shouldn't
a-hurried so only I sung bass in the choir and I doubt if I could have
convinced him that I was working in the interests of Science and Truth.
Fleeing was instinct. Gates didn't matter. They were took on the wing,
and down the street I went with the preacher's hot breath on my neck.
But I beat him. He tired after the first spurt and was soon left behind,
so I could double back home to bed.
Robert, he was for giving up entirely.
"I simply won't work," says he to me, when I met him on the store porch
that next night. "A hundred years ago such a bit of ha'nting would have
caused the town to be abandoned; to-day it is attributed to natural
causes."
"Because," says I, "we left behind such evidences of material
manifestations as strings and weights on the parlor window."
"S'pose we work right in the house?" says he, brightening up. "You can
hide in the closet and groan while I act."
Now did you ever hear anything innocenter than that? Yet he meant it so
well I did not even laugh.
"I'm too fond of my pastor," I says, "to let him catch me in his closet.
A far better spot for our work is the short cut he takes home from
church after Wednesday evening meeting. We won't be so loud, but more
dignified, melancholier, and tragic. You overacted last night, Robert,"
I says. "Next time pace up and down like you were deep in thought and
sigh gentle. Then if he should see you it would be nice to take his arm
and walk home with him."
I think I had the right idea of ha'nting, and had I been able to keep up
Robert J. Dinkle's sperrits and to train him regular I could have
aroused the slumbering imagination of Harmony, and brought life to the
burying-ground. But he was too easy discouraged. He lacked perseverance.
For if ever Mr. Spiegelnail was on the point of seeing things it was
that night as he stepped out of the woods. He had walked slow and
meditating till he come opposite where I was. Now I didn't howl or
groan or say anything particular. What I did was to make a noise that
wasn't animal, neither was it human, nor was it regulation ghostly. As I
had stated to the late Robert J. Dinkle, what was needed for ha'nting
was something new and original. And it certainly ketched Mr.
Spiegelnail's attention. I see him stop. I see his lantern shake. It
appeared like he was going to dive into the bushes for me, but he
changed his mind. On he went, quicker, kind as if he wasn't afraid, yet
was, on to the open, where the moon brought out Robert beautiful as he
paced slowly up and down, his head bowed like he was studying. Still the
preacher never saw him, stepped right through him, in fact. I give the
dreadful sound again. That stopped him. He turned, raised the lantern
before him, put his hand to his ear, and seemed to be looking intense
and listening. Hardly ten feet away stood Robert, all a-trembling with
excitement, but the light that showed through him was as steady as a
rock, as the dominie watched and listened, so quiet and ca'm. He lowered
the lantern, rubbed his hands across his eyes, stepped forward and
looked again. The ghost was perfect. As I have stated, he was excited
and his sigh shook a little, but he was full of dignity and sadity. He
shouldn't have lost heart so soon. I was sure then that he almost showed
up plain to the preacher and he would have grown on Mr. Spiegelnail had
he kept on ha'nting him instead of giving in because that one night the
pastor walked on to the house fairly cool. He did walk quicker, I know,
and he did peer over his shoulder twicet and I did hear the kitchen door
bang in a relieved way. But when we consider the stuff that ghosts are
made of we hadn't otter expect them to be heroes. They are too foggy and
gauzy to have much perseverance--judging at least from Robert J.
"I simply can't work any more," says he, when I came up to him, as he
sat there in the path, his elbows on his knees, his head on his hands,
his eyes studying the ground most mournful.
"But Robert----" I began, thinking to cheer him up.
He didn't hear; he wouldn't listen--just faded away.
Had he only held out there is no telling what he might have done in his
line. Often, since then, have I thought of him and figgered on his
tremendous possibilities. That he had possibilities I am sure. Had I
only realized it that last night we went out ha'nting, he never would
have got away from me. But the realization came too late. It came in
church the very next Sunday, with the usual announcements after the long
prayer, as Mr. Spiegelnail was leaning over the pulpit eying the
congregation through big smoked glasses.
Says he in a voice that was full of sadness: "I regret to announce that
for the first time in twenty years union services will be held in this
town next Sabbath." Setting in the choir, reading my music marks, I
heard the preacher's words and started, for I saw at once that something
unusual was happening, or had happened, or was about to happen.
"Unfortunately," said Mr. Spiegelnail, continuing, "I shall have to turn
my pulpit over to Brother Spiker of the Baptist Church, for my failing
eyesight renders it necessary that I go at once to Philadelphia, to
consult an oculist. Some of my dear brethren may think this an unusual
step, but I should not desert them without cause. They may think,
perhaps, that I am making much ado about nothing and could be treated
just as well in Harrisburg. To such let me explain that I am suffering
from astigmatism. It is not so much that I cannot see, but that I sees
things which I know are not there--a defect in sight which I feel needs
the most expert attention. Sunday-school at half-past nine; divine
service at eleven. I take for my text 'And the old men shall see
visions.'"
How I did wish the late Robert J. Dinkle could have been in church that
morning. It would have so gladdened his heart to hear that he had partly
worked, for if he worked partly, then surely, in time, he would have
worked complete. For me, I was just wild with excitement, and was so
busy thinking of him and how glad he would be, that I didn't hear the
sermon at all, and in planning new ways of ha'nting I forgot to sing in
the last anthem. You see, I figgered lively times ahead for Harmony--a
general return to the good old times when folks had imagination and had
something more in their heads than facts. I had only to get Robert
again, and with him working it would not be long till all the old Berrys
and Mrs. Klump showed up distinct and plain. But I wasn't well posted in
the weak characters of shades, for I thought, of course, I could find my
sperrit friend easy when night came. Yet I didn't. I set on the store
porch shivering till the moon was high up over the ridge. He just
wouldn't come. I called for him soft-like and got no answer. Down to the
burying-ground I went and set on his headstone. It was the quietest
place you ever see. The clouds was scudding overhead; the wind was
sighing among the leaves; and through the trees the moon was gleaming so
clear and distinct you could almost read the monnyments. It was just a
night when things should have been lively there--a perfect night for
ha'nting. I called for Robert. I listened. He never answered. I heard
only a bull-frog a-bellering in the pond, a whippoor-will whistling in
the grove, and a dog howling at the moon.
More
-
The Eight-mile Lock
It was in the August of 1889, when I was just arranging my annual holiday, that I received the following letter. I tore it open and read:— "Theodora House-boat, Goring. "Dear Mr. Bell,— "Can you come down on Wednesday and stay with u... The Fakenham Ghost
The lawns were dry in Euston Park; (Here truth inspires my tale) The lonely footpath, still and dark, Led over hill and dale. Benighted was an ancient dame, And fearful haste she made To gain the vale of Fake... The Fault And Its Consequences
When Dawning-colour was on the point of dying, he called his mother to him. "Mother," he said, "I am going to die. I do not wish White-orchid, my young wife, to feel herself bound to keep the widowhood. When her mourning will be finished, she w... The Female Fanatic And Heavenly Visitor
The following curious affair happened a few years since at Paris, and is well attested by a gentleman of the greatest respectability. A widow-lady, aged about sixty-two, who lodged in a two-pair-of-stairs floor, in the Rue de la Ferronnerie, wit... The Female Sprites
In September 1764, the following extraordinary incident happened in the family of a clergyman then living in Bartholomew Close. The gentleman and his wife returning home about eleven o'clock from a friend's house, where they had been to spend th... The Floating Head Of The Benrachett Inn Near The Perth Road Dundee
Some years ago, when I was engaged in collecting cases for a book I contemplated publishing, on Haunted Houses in England and Wales, I was introduced to an Irish clergyman, whose name I have forgotten, and whom I have never met since. Had the inci... The Floating Wonder Or Female Spectre
The bridge over the river Usk, near Caerleon, in Wales, is formed of wood, and very curiously constructed, the tide rising occasionally to the almost incredible height of fifty or sixty feet. The boards which compose the flooring of this bridge be... The Four-fifteen Express
AMELIA B. EDWARDS The events which I am about to relate took place between nine and ten years ago. Sebastopol had fallen in the early spring, the peace of Paris had been concluded since March, our commercial relations with the Russian Empire we... The Fresco
In the Great Highway of Eternal Fixity, Mong Flowing-spring and his friend Choo Little-lotus were slowly walking, clothed in the long light green dress of the students. They had both just passed with success their third literary examination, an... The Frightened Carrier
In October 1813, a little before midnight, as one of the carriers between Nottingham and Loughborough, was passing near the village of Rempstone, he was extremely surprised at meeting what he thought was a funeral procession, marching in a most so... The Ghost In Love
On the 15th day of the First Moon, in the second year of the period of "Renewed Principles," the streets of the town of the Eastern Lake were thronged with people who were strolling about. At the setting of the sun every shop was brightly lit up... The Ghost Of Miser Brimpson
BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS I Penniless and proud he was; and that pair don't draw a man to pleasant places when they be in double harness. There's only one thing can stop 'em if they take the bit between their teeth, and that's a woman. So there, you ... The Ghost Of The Hindoo Child Or The Hauntings Of The White Dove Hotel Near St Swithin's Street Aberdeen
In the course of many years' investigation of haunted houses, I have naturally come in contact with numerous people who have had first-hand experiences with the Occult. Nurse Mackenzie is one of these people. I met her for the first time last year... The Ghost On Ship-board
A gentleman of high respectability in the navy relates the following story. "When on a voyage to New York, we had not been four days at sea, before an occurrence of a very singular nature broke in upon our quiet. It was a ghost! One night, when... The Ghost Seen By Lord Brougham
It is comparatively easy, when seated before a roaring fire in a well-lighted room, to sneer ghosts out of existence, and roundly affirm that they are without exception the fanciful products of a heated imagination. But the matter takes on a very ... The Ghost That Got The Button
BY WILL ADAMS One autumn evening, when the days were shortening and the darkness fell early on Hotchkiss and the frost was beginning to adorn with its fine glistening lace the carbine barrels of the night sentries as they walked post, Sergeants... The Ghost-extinguisher
BY GELETT BURGESS My attention was first called to the possibility of manufacturing a practicable ghost-extinguisher by a real-estate agent in San Francisco. "There's one thing," he said, "that affects city property here in a curious way. You... The Ghost-ship
BY RICHARD MIDDLETON Fairfield is a little village lying near the Portsmouth Road, about halfway between London and the sea. Strangers, who now and then find it by accident, call it a pretty, old-fashioned place; we who live in it and call it h... The Ghostly Adventurer
About thirty years ago, some labouring mechanics met one Saturday evening, after receiving their wages, at a public-house, near Rippon, in Yorkshire, for the purpose of enjoying themselves convivially, after the cares and fatigues of the week. The... The Grey Piper And The Heavy Coach Of Donaldgowerie House Perth
Donaldgowerie House, until comparatively recent times, stood on the outskirts of Perth. It was a long, low, rambling old place, dating back to the beginning of the seventeenth century. At the time of the narrative it was in the possession of a Mr.... The Hammersmith Ghost
In the year 1804, the inhabitants of Hammersmith were much alarmed by a nocturnal appearance; which, for a considerable time, eluded detection or discovery. In the course of this unfortunate affair, two innocent persons met with an untimely death;... The Haunted Ale-house
'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,' so Donald Macgregor muttered to himself as he strode cautiously down the water of Coquet, halting at the many crooks of that wayward water to spy out the land as he went forward. He had already good... The Haunted Beach Or Power Of Conscience On A Murderer
BY MRS. ROBINSON. Upon a lonely desert beach, Where the white foam was scatter'd, A little shed uprear'd its head, Though lofty barks were shatter'd. The sea-weeds gath'ring near the door, A sombre path displ... The Haunted Bed-room
A young gentleman, going down from London to the west of England, to the house of a very worthy gentleman, to whom he had the honour to be related; it happened, that the gentleman's house was at that time full, by season of a kinswoman's wedding, ... The Haunted Castle
The castle of Ardivillers, near Breteuil, was reported to be haunted by evil spirits. Dreadful noises were heard; and flames were seen, by night, to issue from various apertures. The farmer who was entrusted with the care of the house, in the abse... The Haunted Photograph
BY RUTH McENERY STUART To the ordinary observer it was just a common photograph of a cheap summer hotel. It hung sumptuously framed in plush, over the Widow Morris's mantel, the one resplendent note in an otherwise modest home, in a characteris... The Haunting Of The Wesleys
The Rev. Samuel Wesley is chiefly known to posterity as the father of the famous John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, and of the hardly less famous Charles Wesley. But the Rev. Samuel has further claims to remembrance. If he gave to the world Jo... The Hauntings Of ---- House In The Neighbourhood Of The Great Western Road Aberdeen
The following experience of a haunting is that of Mr. Scarfe, who told it me some few summers ago, expressing at the same time great eagerness to accompany me on some of my investigations. I append it as nearly as possible in his own words:-- ... The Heroic Midshipman Or Church-yard Encounter
At a respectable inn, in a market-town, in the west of England, some few years since, a regular set of the inhabitants met every evening to smoke their pipes, and pass a convivial hour. The conversation, as is usual at those places, was generally ... The House And The Brain
LORD EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON A friend of mine, who is a man of letters and a philosopher, said to me one day, as if between jest and earnest: "Fancy! since we last met, I have discovered a haunted house in the midst of London." "Really haunted?-... The Hypochondriac Gentleman And The Jack-ass
A sober gentleman of very great respectability, who was low-spirited and hypochondriac to a degree, was at times so fanciful, that almost every rustling noise he heard was taken for an apparition or hobgoblin. It happened that he was abroad at a... The Ideot's Funeral
The following extraordinary affair happened about ten years since, at a village in the north of England. About midnight, the minister of the parish was not a little alarmed at hearing the church bell tolling. He immediately dispatched one of his... The Inextinguishable Candle Of The Old White House
There was once a house, known as The Old White House, that used to stand by the side of the road, close to where you say the horse first took fright. Some people of the name of Holkitt, relations of dear old Sir Arthur Holkitt, and great friends of ... The Innocent Devil Or Agreeable Disappointment
The following story is extracted from a letter I received, some time since, from a friend, on the subject of apparitions. "Returning, one evening in the summer, to my apartments, at a short distance from town, I was invited by my landlady, a bri... The Lady And The Ghost
BY ROSE CECIL O'NEILL It was some moments before the Lady became rationally convinced that there was something occurring in the corner of the room, and then the actual nature of the thing was still far from clear. "To put it as mildly as poss... The Lady Of The Black Tower
BY MRS. ROBINSON. "Watch no more the twinkling stars; Watch no more the chalky bourne; Lady, from the holy wars Never will thy love return! Cease to watch, and cease to mourn; Thy lover never will retur... The Last Ghost In Harmony
BY NELSON LLOYD From his perch on the blacksmith's anvil he spoke between the puffs of his post-prandial pipe. The fire in the forge was out and the day was going slowly, through the open door of the shop and the narrow windows, westward to the... The Laughing Ghost
Siu Long-mountain was one of the most celebrated students of the district of Perfect-flowers. Having mastered the mysterious theories of the ancient Classics, he took a fancy in the researches of the Taoist magicians, whose temples may be found in... The Leaden Ring
"It is not possible, Julia. I cannot conceive how the 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 ... The Lord Warden's Tomb
My companion had surprised me by a sudden change of demeanour, for which I could not account, and I was watching him out of the tail of my eye from behind a pillar in the nave of the church which we were exploring. We had just been viewing the rec... The Lunatic Apparition
The celebrated historian De Thou had a very singular adventure at Saumer, in the year 1598. One night, having retired to rest, very much fatigued, while he was enjoying a sound sleep, he felt a very extraordinary weight upon his feet, which, havin... The Maniac Or Fatal Effects Of Wanton Mischief
Some years ago, a very intelligent, handsome, and promising youth, whose names is Henry Pargeter Lewis, the son of a respectable attorney, in the town of Dudley, was placed for a probationary time, previously to an intended apprenticeship, with a ... The Marble Arch
When the troubles began to break out in Hankow, many families were alarmed. Those who were not ignorant of the powerful organisation of the revolutionists left the town as soon as possible, anticipating that it would soon be plundered and burnt. ... The Merewigs
During the time that I lived in Essex, I had the pleasure of knowing Major Donelly, retired on half-pay, 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... 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 g... The Mother Of Pansies
Anna Voss, of Siebenstein, was the prettiest girl 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 ho... The Mummy's Foot
BY THEOPHILE GAUTIER I had sauntered idly into the shop of one of those dealers in old curiosities--"bric-a-brac" as they say in that Parisian argot, so absolutely unintelligible elsewhere in France. You have no doubt often glanced through the ... The Muniment Room
My uncle had succeeded late in life to the family estate in the north of England, which was situated on the wild moorland of north-west Yorkshire. With him the entail would end, and though it was known that the estate had been much impoverished... The Mysterious Island
In the beautiful Chu-san archipelago there is a small island where the flowers never cease blooming, and where the trees grow thick and high. From the most remote antiquity nobody has been known to live in the shade of this virgin forest; the fern... The Mysterious Mr Home
"So you've brought the devil to my house, have you?" "No, no, aunty, no! It's not my fault." With an angry gesture the woman, tall, large boned, harsh visaged, pushed back her chair and advanced threateningly toward the pale, anemic looking y... The Mysterious Sketch
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN I Opposite the chapel of Saint Sebalt in Nuremberg, at the corner of Trabaus Street, there stands a little tavern, tall and narrow, with a toothed gable and dusty windows, whose roof is surmounted by a plaster Virgin. It wa... The Mystery Of The Circular Chamber
One day in late September I received the following letter from my lawyer:— "My Dear Bell,— "I shall esteem it a favour if you can make it convenient to call upon me at ten o'clock to-morrow morning on a matter of extreme privacy." At the a... The Mystery Of The Felwyn Tunnel
I was making experiments of some interest at South Kensington, and hoped that I had perfected a small but not unimportant discovery, when, on returning home one evening in late October in the year 1893, I found a visiting card on my table. On it were i... The Nocturnal Disturbers
The following authentic story is related by Dr. Plot, in his Natural History of Oxfordshire. Soon after the murder of King Charles the First, a commission was appointed to survey the King's house at Woodstock, with the manor, park, woods, and o... The Open Door
MRS. MARGARET OLIPHANT I took the house of Brentwood on my return from India in 18--, for the temporary accommodation of my family, until I could find a permanent home for them. It had many advantages which made it peculiarly appropriate. It wa... The Patch Of Lamb's Skin
In the twenty-fourth year K'ang-hsi lived in a remote district of the western provinces, a man who could remember his former lives. He was now a "tsin-shi," "entered-among-the-learned," renowned, and much considered by his friends. When speakin... The Phantom Regiment Of Killiecrankie
Many are the stories that have from time to time been circulated with regard to the haunting of the Pass of Killiecrankie by phantom soldiers, but I do not think there is any stranger story than that related to me, some years ago, by a lady who de... The Philosopher Gassendi And The Haunted Bed-room
In one of the letters of this celebrated philosopher, he says, that he was consulted by his friend and patron the Count d'Alais, governor of Provence, on a phenomenon that haunted his bed-chamber while he was at Marseilles on some business relativ... The Princess Nelumbo
Gleam-of-day was sleeping; his round face and high forehead denoted the scholar's right intelligence. All of a sudden he saw a man standing before his bed who appeared to be waiting. "What is it?" inquired the sleeper, getting up. "The pri... The Prior Of Tynemouth
Prior Olaf stood on the central merlon of the gate tower that protected the little cell of Tynemouth from assault on the landward side, and gazed intently over the sea below him to the eastward haze wherein he feared to descry the red-brown sails ... The Prussian Dominoor Fatal Effects Of Jealousy
An officer of rank in the service of the late King of Prussia, having lost an amiable wife whom he tenderly loved, became quite inconsolable. Deeply wounded with his affliction, his mind was so absorbed in melancholy, that the transient pleasures ... The Red-haired Girl
A WIFE'S STORY In 1876 we took a house in one of the best streets and 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, an... The Residence At Whitminster
Dr. Ashton--Thomas Ashton, Doctor of Divinity--sat in his study, habited in a dressing-gown, and with a silk cap on his shaven head--his wig being for the time taken off and placed on its block on a side table. He was a man of some fifty-five year... The Rival Ghosts
BY BRANDER MATTHEWS The good ship sped on her way across the calm Atlantic. It was an outward passage, according to the little charts which the company had charily distributed, but most of the passengers were homeward bound, after a summer of res... The River Of Sorrows
Along the path leading to the city of All-virtues, in the obscure night, a poor coolie, grumbling under a heavy load of salt, was trudging on as fast as he could. "I shall never get there before the hour of the Rat, and my wife will say again; ... The Roll-call Of The Reef
A. T. QUILLER-COUCH "Yes, sir," said my host, the quarryman, reaching down the relics from their hook in the wall over the chimneypiece; "they've hung there all my time, and most of my father's. The women won't touch 'em; they're afraid of the ... The Room Beyond An Account Of The Hauntings At Hennersley Near Ayr
To me Hennersley is what the Transformation Scene at a Pantomime was to the imaginative child--the dreamy child of long ago--a floral paradise full of the most delightful surprises. Here, at Hennersley, from out the quite recently ice-bound earth,... The Sallow-faced Woman Of No Forrest Road Edinburgh
The Public unfortunately includes a certain set of people, of the middle class very middlish, who are ever on the look-out for some opportunity, however slight and seemingly remote, of bettering themselves socially; and, learning that those in a h... The School-boy Apparition
A few years since, the inhabitants of Dorking, in Surrey, entertained a notion, that a ghost walked in a certain place in that neighbourhood; and that she (for it was an ancient lady, lately dead) was seen hovering about the mansion-house, which w... The Seeress Of Prevorst
Modern spiritism, as every student of that fascinating if elusive subject is aware, dates from the closing years of the first half of the nineteenth century. But the celebrated Fox sisters, whose revelations at that time served to crystallize into... The Shepherd Dog
The shepherd dog is another useful—almost indispensable—creature, on the sheep, or dairy farm. This cut is an accurate representation of the finest of the breed. To the flock-master, he saves a world of labor, in driving and gathering the flocks to... The Smooth Terrier
Sir Walter Scott, who was a great friend to dogs, as well as a nice and critical judge of their qualities, used to tell this story:—When a young man, first attending, as an advocate, the Jedburgh assizes, a notorious burglar engaged Sir Walter to def...