ANIMAL GHOSTS

OR, ANIMAL HAUNTINGS AND THE HEREAFTER

BY ELLIOTT O'DONNELL

AUTHOR OF

"THE SORCERY CLUB, " "WERWOLVES, " "BYWAYS OF GHOSTLAND, " "SCOTTISHGHOSTS, " "HAUNTED HOUSES OF LONDON, " "HAUNTED HOUSES OF ENGLAND ANDWALES, " "DREAMS AND THEIR MEANINGS, " "FOR SATAN'S SAKE, " "THE UNKNOWNDEPTHS, " "DINEVAH THE BEAUTIFUL, " "JENNIE BARLOWE, " "GHOSTLY PHENOMENA, ""MRS. E. M. WARD'S REMINISCENCES, " ETC. ETC. 

LONDON

WILLIAM RIDER & SON, LTD. CATHEDRAL HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW, E. C. 1913

_First Published November, 1913. _

PREFACE

If human beings, with all their vices, have a future life, assuredlyanimals, who in character so often equal, nay, excel human beings, havea future life also. 

Those who in the Scriptures find a key to all things, can find nothingin them to confute this argument. There is no saying of Christ thatjustifies one in supposing that man is the only being, whose existenceextends beyond the grave. 

Granted, however, merely for the sake of argument, that we have someground for the denial of a future existence for animals, consider theinjustice such a denial would involve. Take, for example, the case ofthe horse. Harming no one, and without thought of reward, it toils forman all its life, and when too old to work it is put to death withouteven the compensation of a well-earned rest. But if compensation beGod's law, --as I, for one, believe it to be--and also the _raisond'être_ of a hereafter, then surely the Creator, whose chief claim toour respect and veneration lies in the fact that He is just andmerciful, will take good care that the horse--the gentle, patient, never-complaining horse--is well compensated--compensated in a goldenhereafter. 

Consider again, the case of another of our four-footed friends--the dog;the faithful, affectionate, obedient and forgiving dog, the dog who isso often called upon to stand all sorts of rough treatment, and is shotor poisoned, if, provoked beyond endurance, he at last rounds on hispersecutors, and bites. And the cat--the timid, peaceful cat who ismauled, and all but pulled in two by cruel children, and beaten to ajelly when in sheer agony and fright it scratches. Reflect again, on thecow and the sheep, fed only to supply our wants; shouted at and kicked, if, when nearly scared out of their senses, they wander off the track;and pole-axed, or done to death in some equally atrocious manner whenthe sickening demand for flesh food is at its height. 

And yet, you say, these innocent, unoffending--and, I say, martyred--animals are to have no future, no compensation. Monstrous!Absurd! It is an effrontery to common sense, philosophy--anything, everything. It is a damned lie, damned bigotry, damned nonsense. Thewhole animal world will live again; and it will be man--spoilt, presumptuous, degenerate man--who will not participate in another life, unless he very much improves. 

Think well over this, --you who preach the gospel of man'spre-eminence;--you who prate of God and know nothing whatsoever aboutHim! The horse, dog, cat, --even the wild animals, whose vices, perchance, pale beside your own, may go to Heaven before you. TheSupreme Architect is neither a Nero, nor a Stuart, nor a clown. He willrecompense all who deserve recompense, be they great or small--biped orquadruped. 

It is to testify to a future existence for animals and to create a widerinterest in it that I have undertaken to compile this book; and myobject, I think, can best be achieved in my own way, the way of theinvestigator of haunted places. The mere fact that there aremanifestations of "dead" people (pardon the paradox) proves some kind oflife after death for human beings; and happily the same proof isavailable with regard a future life for animals; indeed there are asmany animal phantasms as human--perhaps more; hence, if the human beinglives again, so do his dumb friends. 

Be comforted then, you who love your pets, and have been kind to them. You will see them all again, on the soft undying pasture lands of yourElysium and theirs. 

Be warned, you--you who have despised animals, and have been cruel tothem. Who knows but that, in your future life, you may be as they arenow--in subjection?

 * * * * *

My task in writing this book has been considerably lightened by theextreme courtesy and kindness of Mr. Shirley, Mr. Eveleigh Nash, and theProprietors of the _Review of Reviews_, in allowing me to make use ofextracts and quotations from their most valuable works. 

ELLIOTT O'DONNELL. 

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER I

CATS

PAGE

The Black Cat of the Old Manor House, Oxenby--Correspondence _re_ CatPhantasms--The Headless Cat of No. ----, Lower Seedley Road, Seedley, Manchester--The Cat on the Post--Mystic Properties of Cats 3

CHAPTER II

DOGS

The Case of James Durham--The Grey Dog of ---- House, Birmingham--TheDog in the Cupboard--How the Ghost of a Dog saved Life--A Precentor'sAdventure--Phantom Dog seen on Souter Fell--The Jumping Ghost--Dogs seenbefore a Death--A Dog scared by a Canine Ghost--The Phantom Dachshund ofW---- Street, London, W. --An ALL Hallow Eve Ghost--The StrangeDisappearance of Mr. Jeremiah Dance--Phantasms of Living Dogs--TheYellow Dog of K---- University--National Ghosts in the form of Dogs--TheMauthe Doog--Spectral Hounds 57

CHAPTER III

HORSES AND THE UNKNOWN

A Phantom Cavalcade--The Miller on the Grey Horse--A Phantom Horseand Rider--The White Horse of Eastover--The Afrikander's Story--Heraldsof Death--Phantom Coach in U. S. A. --A Story from Marseilles--Summary ofHorses--Phantasms of Living Horses--Horses and the Psychic Faculty ofScent--Phantom Policeman and Horse--Phantom Huntsmen and Horses 139

CHAPTER IV

BULLS, COWS, PIGS, ETC. 

The Kirk-grim--Phantasm of a Goat--Phantom Hogs of the MoatGrange--Sheep--Spectre Flock of Sheep in Germany 212

PART II

CHAPTER V

WILD ANIMALS AND THE UNKNOWN

Animal Phantasms and the Moon--The Case of Martin Tristram--Phantasms ofCat and Ape--Hauntings by a White Rabbit--John Wesley's Ghost--PsychicFaculty in Hares and Rabbits 223

CHAPTER VI

INHABITANTS OF THE JUNGLE

Elephants, Lions, Tigers, etc. --The White Tiger--Jungle Animals andPsychic Faculties 254

PART III

CHAPTER VII

BIRDS AND THE UNKNOWN

Case from _Occult Review_--Bird Hauntings in Russia--Hauntings inthe Country Church--Capt. Morgan's Experiences--Addenda--Old Authoritieson Bird Omens 273

CHAPTER VIII

A BRIEF RETROSPECT 300

PART I

DOMESTIC ANIMALS AND THEIR ASSOCIATIONS WITH THE UNKNOWN

ANIMAL GHOSTS

CHAPTER I

CATS

In opening this volume on Animals and their associations with theunknown, I will commence with a case of hauntings in the Old ManorHouse, at Oxenby. 

My informant was a Mrs. Hartnoll, whom I can see in my mind's eye, asdistinctly as if I were looking at her now. Hers was a personality thatno lapse of time, nothing could efface; a personality that made itselffelt on boys of all temperaments, most of all, of course, on thosewho--like myself--were highly strung and sensitive. 

She was classical mistress at L. 's, the then well-known dame school inClifton, where for three years--prior to migrating to a Public School--Iwas well grounded in all the mysticisms of Kennedy's Latin Primer andSmith's First Greek Principia. 

I doubt if she got anything more than a very small salary--governessesin those days were shockingly remunerated--and I know, --poor soul, shehad to work monstrously hard. Drumming Latin and Greek into heads asthick as ours was no easy task. 

But there were times, when the excessive tension on the nerves provingtoo much, Mrs. Hartnoll stole a little relaxation; when she allowedherself to chat with us, and even to smile--Heavens! those smiles! Andwhen--I can feel the tingling of my pulses at the bare mention ofit--she spoke about herself, stated she had once been young--adeclaration so astounding, so utterly beyond our comprehension, that wewere rendered quite speechless--and told us anecdotes. 

Of many of her narratives I have no recollection, but one or two, whichinterested me more than the rest, are almost as fresh in my mind as whenrecounted. The one that appealed to me most, and which I have everyreason to believe is absolutely true, [1] is as follows:--I give it asnearly as I can in her own somewhat stilted style:--

"Up to the age of nineteen, I resided with my parents in the ManorHouse, Oxenby. It was an old building, dating back, I believe, to thereign of Edward VI, and had originally served as the residence of noblefamilies. Built, or, rather, faced with split flints, and edged andbuttressed with cut grey stone, it had a majestic though very gloomyappearance, and seen from afar resembled nothing so much as a huge andgrotesquely decorated sarcophagus. In the centre of its frowning andmenacing front was the device of a cat, constructed out of blackshingles, and having white shingles for the eyes; the effect beingcuriously realistic, especially on moonlight nights, when anything morelifelike and sinister could scarcely have been conceived. The artist, whoever he was, had a more than human knowledge of cats--he portrayednot merely their bodies but their souls. 

[Footnote 1: I have subsequently met several people who experienced thesame phenomena in the house, which was standing a short time ago. ]

"In style the front of the house was somewhat castellated. Twosemicircular bows, or half towers, placed at a suitable distance fromeach other, rose from the base to the summit of the edifice, to theheight of four or five stairs; and were pierced, at every floor, withrows of stone-mullioned windows. The flat wall between had largerwindows, lighting the great hall, gallery, and upper apartments. Thesewindows were wholly composed of stained glass, engraved with everyimaginable fantastic design--imps, satyrs, dragons, witches, queer-shaped trees, hands, eyes, circles, triangles and cats. 

"The towers, half included in the building, were completely circularwithin, and contained the winding stairs of the mansion; and whoeverascended them when a storm was raging seemed rising by a whirlwind tothe clouds. 

"In the upper rooms even the wildest screams of the hurricane weredrowned in the rattling clamour of the assaulted casements. When a galeof wind took the building in front, it rocked it to the foundations, and, at such times, threatened its instant demolition. 

"Midway between the towers there stood forth a heavy stone porch with aGothic gateway, surmounted by a battlemented parapet, made gablefashion, the apex of which was garnished by a pair of dolphins, rampantand antagonistic, whose corkscrew tails seemed contorted--especially atnight--by the last agonies of rage convulsed. The porch doors stoodopen, except in tremendous weather; the inner ones were regularly shutand barred after all who entered. They led into a wide vaulted and loftyhall, the walls of which were decorated with faded tapestry, that rose, and fell, and rustled in the most mysterious fashion every time therewas the suspicion--and often barely the suspicion--of a breeze. 

"Interspersed with the tapestry--and in great contrast to itsantiquity--were quite modern and very ordinary portraits of my family. The general fittings and furniture, both of the hall and house, weresombre and handsome--truss-beams, corbels, girders and panels were ofthe blackest oak; and the general effect of all this, augmented, ifanything, by the windows, which were too high and narrow to admit ofmuch light, was much the same as that produced by the interior of asubterranean chapel or charnel house. 

"From the hall proceeded doorways and passages, more than my memory cannow particularize. Of these portals, one at each end conducted to thetower stairs, others to reception rooms and domestic offices. 

"The whole of the house being too large for us, only one wing--the rightand newer of the two--was occupied, the other was unfurnished, andgenerally shut up. I say generally because there were times when eithermy mother or father--the servants never ventured there--forgot to lockthe doors, and the handles yielding to my daring fingers, Isurreptitiously crept in. 

"Everywhere--even in daylight, even on the sunniest of mornings--weredark shadows that hung around the ingles and recesses of the rooms, thedeep cupboards, the passages, and silent, winding staircases. 

"There was one corridor--long, low, vaulted--where these shadowsassembled in particular. I can see them now, as I saw them then, as theyhave come to me many times in my dreams, grouped about the doorways, flitting to and fro on the bare, dismal boards, and congregated inmenacing clusters at the head of the sepulchral staircase leading to thecellars. Generally, and excepting at times when the weather wasparticularly violent, the silence here was so emphatic that I couldnever feel it was altogether natural, but rather that it was assumedespecially for my benefit--to intimidate me. If I moved, if I coughed, almost if I breathed, the whole passage was filled with hoarsereverberating echoes, that, in my affrighted ears, appeared to terminatein a series of mirthless, malevolent chuckles. Once, when fascinatedbeyond control, I stole on tiptoe along the passage, momentarilyexpecting a door to fly open and something grim and horrible to pounceout on me, I was brought to a standstill by a loud, clanging noise, asif a pail or some such utensil were set down very roughly on a stonefloor. Then there was the sound of rushing footsteps and of someonehastily ascending the cellar staircase. In fearful anticipation as towhat I should see--for there was something in the sounds that told methey were not made by anything human--I stood in the middle of thepassage and stared. Up, up, up they came, until I saw the dark, indefinite shape of something very horrid, but which I could not--I darenot--define. It was accompanied by the clanging of a pail. I tried toscream, but my tongue cleaving to the roof of my mouth prevented myuttering a syllable, and when I essayed to move, I found I wastemporarily paralysed. The thing came rushing down on me. I grew icycold all over, and when it was within a few feet of me, my horror was sogreat, I fainted. 

"On recovering consciousness, it was some minutes before I summoned upcourage to open my eyes, but when I did so, they alighted on nothing butthe empty passage--the thing had disappeared. 

"On another occasion, when I was clandestinely paying a visit to theunused wing, and was in the act of mounting one of the staircasesleading from the corridor, I have just described, to the first floor, there was the sound of a furious scuffle overhead, and something dasheddown the stairs past me. I instinctively looked up, and there, glaringdown at me from over the balustrade, was a very white face. It was thatof a man, but very badly proportioned--the forehead being low andreceding, and the rest of the face too long and narrow. The crown roseto a kind of peak, the ears were pointed and set very low down and farback. The mouth was very cruel and thin-lipped; the teeth were yellowand uneven. There was no hair on the face, but that on the head was redand matted. The eyes were obliquely set, pale blue, and full of anexpression so absolutely malignant that every atom of blood in my veinsseemed to congeal as I met their gaze. I could not clearly see the bodyof the thing, as it was hazy and indistinct, but the impression I got ofit was that it was clad in some sort of tight-fitting, fantasticgarment. As the landing was in semi-darkness, and the face at all eventswas most startlingly visible, I concluded it brought with it a light ofits own, though there was none of that lurid glow attached to it, whichI subsequently learned is almost inseparable from spirit phenomena seenunder similar conditions. 

"For some seconds, I was too overcome with terror to move, but myfaculties at length reasserting themselves, I turned round and flew tothe other wing of the house with the utmost precipitation. 

"One would have thought that after these experiences nothing would haveinduced me to have run the risk of another such encounter, yet only afew days after the incident of the head, I was again impelled by afascination I could not withstand to visit the same quarters. In sicklyanticipation of what my eyes would alight on, I stole to the foot of thestaircase and peeped cautiously up. To my infinite joy there was nothingthere but a bright patch of sunshine, that, in the most unusual fashion, had forced its way through from one of the slits of windows near athand. 

"After gazing at it long enough to assure myself it was only sunshine, Iquitted the spot, and proceeded on my way down the vaulted corridor. Just as I was passing one of the doors, it opened. I stopped--terrified. What could it be? Bit by bit, inch by inch, I watched the gap slowlywiden. At last, just as I felt I must either go mad or die, somethingappeared--and, to my utter astonishment, it was a big, black cat!Limping painfully, it came towards me with a curious, gliding motion, and I perceived with a thrill of horror that it had been very cruellymaltreated. One of its eyes looked as if it had been gouged out--itsears were lacerated, whilst the paw of one of its hind-legs had eitherbeen torn or hacked off. As I drew back from it, it made a feeble andpathetic effort to reach me and rub itself against my legs, as is theway with cats, but in so doing it fell down, and uttering a half purr, half gurgle, vanished--seeming to sink through the hard oak boards. 

"That evening my youngest brother met with an accident in the barn atthe back of the house, and died. Though I did not then associate hisdeath with the apparition of the cat, the latter shocked me much, for Iwas extremely fond of animals. I did not dare venture in the wing againfor nearly two years. 

"When next I did so, it was early one June morning--between five andsix, and none of the family, saving my father, who was out in the fieldslooking after his men, were as yet up. I explored the dreaded corridorand staircase, and was crossing the floor of one of the rooms I hadhitherto regarded as immune from ghostly influences, when there was anicy rush of wind, the door behind me slammed to violently, and a heavyobject struck me with great force in the hollow of my back. With a cryof surprise and agony I turned sharply round, and there, lying on thefloor, stretched out in the last convulsions of death, was the big blackcat, maimed and bleeding as it had been on the previous occasion. How Igot out of the room I don't recollect. I was too horror-stricken to knowexactly what I was doing, but I distinctly remember that, as I tuggedthe door open, there was a low, gleeful chuckle, and something slippedby me and disappeared in the direction of the corridor. At noon that daymy mother had a seizure of apoplexy, and died at midnight. 

"Again there was a lapse of years--this time nearly four--when, sent onan errand for my father, I turned the key of one of the doors leadinginto the empty wing, and once again found myself within the hauntedprecincts. All was just as it had been on the occasion of my lastvisit--gloom, stillness and cobwebs reigned everywhere, whilstpermeating the atmosphere was a feeling of intense sadness anddepression. 

"I did what was required of me as quickly as possible, and was crossingone of the rooms to make my exit, when a dark shadow fell athwart thethreshold of the door, and I saw the cat. 

 * * * * *

"That evening my father dropped dead as he was hastening home throughthe fields. He had long suffered from heart disease. 

"After his death we--that is to say, my brother, sisters and self--wereobliged to leave the house and go out into the world to earn our living. We never went there again, and never heard if any of the subsequenttenants experienced similar manifestations. "

This is as nearly as I can recollect Mrs. Hartnoll's story. But as it isa good many years since I heard it, there is just a possibility of someof the details--the smaller ones at all events--having escaped mymemory. 

When I was grown up, I stayed for a few weeks near Oxenby, and met, at agarden party, a Mr. And Mrs. Wheeler, the then occupants of the ManorHouse. 

I asked if they believed in ghosts, and told them I had always heardtheir house was haunted. 

"Well, " they said, "we never believed in ghosts till we came to Oxenby, but we have seen and heard such strange things since we have been in theManor House that we are now prepared to believe anything. "

They then went on to tell me that they--and many of their visitors andservants--had seen the phantasms of a very hideous and malignant oldman, clad in tight-fitting hosiery of mediæval days, and a maimed andbleeding big, black cat, that seemed sometimes to drop from the ceiling, and sometimes to be thrown at them. In one of the passages all sorts ofqueer sounds, such as whinings, meanings, screeches, clangings of pailsand rattlings of chains, were heard, whilst something, no one could eversee distinctly, but which they all felt to be indescribably nasty, rushed up the cellar steps and flew past, as if engaged in a desperatechase. Indeed, the disturbances were of so constant and harrowing anature, that the wing had to be vacated and was eventually locked up. 

The Wheelers excavated in different parts of the haunted wing and found, in the cellar, at a depth of some eight or nine feet, the skeletons ofthree men and two women; whilst in the wainscoting of the passage theydiscovered the bones of a boy, all of which remains they had properlyinterred in the churchyard. According to local tradition, handed downthrough many centuries by word of mouth, the house originally belongedto a knight, who, with his wife, was killed out hunting. He had only onechild, a boy of about ten, who became a ward in chancery. The manappointed by the Crown as guardian to this child proved an inhumanmonster, and after ill-treating the lad in every conceivable manner, eventually murdered him and tried to substitute a bastard boy of his ownin his place. For a time the fraud succeeded, but on its beingeventually found out, the murderer and his offspring were both broughtto trial and hanged. 

During his occupation of the house, many people were seen to enter thepremises, but never leave them, and the place got the most sinisterreputation. Among other deeds credited to the murderer and hisoffspring was the mutilation and boiling of a cat--the particular pet ofthe young heir, who was compelled to witness the whole revoltingprocess. Years later, a subsequent owner of the property had a monumenterected in the churchyard to the memory of this poor, abused child, andon the front of the house constructed the device of the cat. 

Though it is impossible to determine what amount of truth there may bein this tradition, it certainly seems to accord with the hauntings, andto supply some sort of explanation to them. The ghostly head on thebanisters might well be that of the low and brutal guardian, whosespirit would be the exact counterpart of his mind. The figure seen, andnoises heard in the passage, point to the re-enaction of some tragedy, possibly the murder of the heir, or the slaughter of his cat, in eitherof which a bucket might easily have played a grimly significant part. And if human murderers and their victims have phantasms, why should notanimals have phantasms too? Why should not the phenomenon of the catseen by Mrs. Hartnoll and the Wheelers have been the actual phantasm ofan earthbound cat?

No amount of reasoning--religious or otherwise--has as yet annihilatedthe possibility of all forms of earthly life possessing spirits. 

LETTER FROM MY WIFE

I heard the foregoing account from my husband when first I met him yearsago, and I know it to be true. I have seen the rooms, etc. In the OldManor House, Oxenby, where the incidents Mrs. Hartnoll mentions tookplace. 

 ADA B. O'DONNELL. 

_July_ 2, 1913. 

To further substantiate my views with regard to a future existence foranimals, I reproduce (by permission of the Editor) the following lettersand articles that have appeared from time to time in the _OccultReview_:--

Letter 1

_That other Cat_

One evening about four years ago I was in my drawing-room with twofriends; we were all standing up on the point of going to bed, and onlywaiting till the old cook had succeeded in inducing the grey Persian catto come in for the night. This was sometimes difficult, and then cookcame up as on this occasion and called him from the balcony, and theFrench window was wide open, when a cat rushed in at the window andthrough the door. 

"What was that?" we said, looking at one another. It was not Kitty, thegrey Persian, but darker, and was it really a cat, or what? My friend"Rügen" has written the account of what she saw before seeing what Ihave said. "Iona" confirms our description. What I saw seemed dark andshadowy and yet unmistakably a cat. It seemed to me like the predecessorof Kitty, which was a black Persian; he had the same habit of coming inat night by this window, and he constantly rushed through the room, anddownstairs, being in a hurry for his supper. A moment or two afterwardsthe grey cat walked slowly in, and though we searched the house, wecould find no other. 

 "THANET. "

Letter 2

_Fräulein Mullet's Story_

Three or four years ago, Iona and I were sitting in the drawing-room ona Sunday evening, when cook came in to ask for Kitty (a silver-greyPersian cat) to settle him in the kitchen for the night. Kitty was stillin the garden, and cook went to the balcony calling him. 

Suddenly I saw a black cat flying in and disappearing behind or under aseat. First, I did not take much notice of this. But when a minute afterKitty slowly and solemnly stepped in, followed by cook, it struck methat the dark something could not have been Kitty, and Thanet and Ionamade the remark simultaneously. Now we began to look for the dark oneall over the place without any result. Cook had not seen any cat passingher on the balcony, but Kitty the grey one. Thanet had had a blackPersian cat, which died before Kitty came. 

 "RÜGEN. "

Letter 3

I can entirely corroborate the accounts written by "Thanet" and "Rügen. "

I remember that I saw something like a dark shadow move very quickly anddisappear in front of a cottage piano. I exclaimed simultaneously withmy friends "What was that?" and shared their surprise when no black catwas found, and the grey Persian walked in unconcernedly through the openwindow. 

 "IONA. "

Letter 4

_What Kitty saw_

Cook said, "I wish you would come downstairs and see how strangely Kittybehaves as soon as I open the cupboard. There is nothing in it but thewood; I turned it all out to see what might be the reason--not even amousehole can I find. " Some days previously cook had told me thatnothing could induce Kitty to sleep in his basket, and one day he wouldnot eat any food in the kitchen, and his meals had to be given himoutside. So I went down to please cook. Kitty was picked up, and whilecook petted and stroked him, she knelt down and opened the cupboard. Kitty, stretching his neck and looking with big, frightened eyes intothe cupboard's corner, suddenly turned round; struggling out of cook'shold and rushing over her shoulder, he flew out of the kitchen. Gettingup, Cook said: "That's always what he does, just as if he was seeingsomething horrible!"

Next day I encouraged cook to talk of Ruff, the former black cat, whichhad been a great favourite of hers, and which she had been nursing whenhe was dying. "Oh, poor thing, when he was ill, he would creep into darkcorners, so I put him in his basket into the cupboard, making it verycomfortable for him, and there he died"--pointing to the very cornerwhich caused such horror to Kitty. 

 "RÜGEN. "

Letter 5

_Captain Humphries's Story--A Materialized Cat_

My son had the following experience at the age of four years in ourWorcestershire home. 

He was an only child and spent much of his time in the company of a catwho shared his tastes and pursuits even to the extent of fishing in theRiver Weir with him, the cat being far more proficient at the sport thanthe boy. When the cat died we none of us dared to break the news to thechild, and were much surprised when he asked us to say why his cat onlycame to play with him at nights nowadays. When we questioned him aboutit, he stoutly maintained that his cat was there in bodily form everynight after he went to bed, looking much the same but a little thinner. 

At about the same age, one evening after being in bed one hour, I heardhim cry out, and going upstairs (his maid also heard and ran up) andasking him what was the matter, he said that an old gentleman with along grey beard like his grandfather came into his room, and stood atthe front of his bed. At the very moment, the former had a seizure inhis carriage while driving through the streets of Birmingham, from whichhe died without regaining consciousness; later on he recognized aphotograph of his grandfather as being the person he saw at the foot ofhis bed. My wife, the maid, and myself can vouch for the accuracy ofthese statements, also friends to whom we have related these facts. 

 "MUNSTER. "

Letter 6

_Mrs. E. J. Ellis's Story--"The Old Woman's Cat"_

My wife, writes Mr. Ellis, who was brought up in Germany, and who is notsufficiently confident about her English to attempt to put down anythingfor publication in that language, tells me the following story for the_Occult Review_:--

"When I was a little girl living with my family near Michelstadt in theOdenwald, I remember an old woman like an old witch, whose name wasLouise, and who was called 'Pfeiffe Louise, ' because she exhibited pipesfor sale in her cottage window, along with the cheap dress-stuffs, needles and threads, and simple toys for children which were herstock-in-trade. She had a favourite cat which was devoted to her, butits attachment doesn't seem to have been enough to make her happy, forshe married a young sergeant named Lautenschlager, who might have beenher son--or indeed her grandson--and who, as everyone said, courted herfor her money. She died as long ago as 1869, and during her last illnessthe devoted cat was always with her. It kept watch beside the body whenshe was dead, and refused to be driven away. In a fit of exasperationLautenschlager seized it, carried it off, and drowned it in the littleRiver Mumling, at a place where the road from Michelstadt to theneighbouring village Steinbach runs near the water's edge. It wasbordered with poplars then, but chestnut trees shade it now. 

"Soon after his first wife was buried Lautenschlager married again, andopened an eating-house in Steinbach, where he established his secondwife. He had a sister whom he placed in the cottage of poor 'PfeiffeLouise. ' She carried on the business, and every day Lautenschlager usedto walk over from Steinbach to see how she was getting on, returning inthe evening to his wife, who used to relate to my mother that hefrequently came home terrified and bathed in perspiration, for as hepassed the place where he had drowned the cat, its ghost used to comeout of the river and run beside him along the dark road, sometimesterrifying him still more by jumping in front of him. 

"After a few years of married life the second wife died, andLautenschlager married a third. The little cottage business hadprospered, and in its place he now had a considerable draper's shop inMichelstadt. He continued to walk over from Steinbach, where now thethird wife lived in the eating-house, and the ghost of the cat continuedto frighten him by appearing at nightfall as he walked beside the river. 

"I can remember hearing his third wife describe his dread of it, and mymother has told me how both the sister and the second wife used to saythe same thing, though I was too young then for them to tell me aboutit. Lautenschlager used also to complain to the country people who cameto dine at his eating-house. He considered himself an ill-used man, andfelt that the supernatural powers were treating him very hardly, andsubjecting him to a real persecution. I have only the conversation ofhis wife and the gossip of the village to vouch for his sincerity, andthe genuineness of the apparition is supported only by Lautenschlager'sword, but his evident anger and agitation were accepted as genuine, andno one dreamed of doubting his word. He was not at all a dreamy orimaginative man, and did not drink. His passion was merely momentary. Hewas not only a draper and caterer but a usurer, and realized somethingof a fortune by lending money on good security to peasants and farmerswho, it was said, did not consider how they bound themselves when theysigned the papers he put before them. 

"Lautenschlager continued to be haunted by the cat-ghost at irregularintervals for more than twenty years, and it made a marked change in hischaracter. He became serious, and during the latter part of his lifewould only talk about religion and read sacred literature. He died aboutten years ago. "

 "FELINE. "

Letter 7

_A Spectral Fox-terrier_

Two or three years ago I visited a medium (Mrs. Davies of 44 LaburnumGrove, Portsmouth). I had been seated only a few minutes when a littlepug-dog of hers looked up in the direction of my knees and down towardsmy feet, growling and howling in a most strange manner. 

"What on earth is he looking at?" I exclaimed. 

"Oh, " said the medium, "there is a little fox-terrier lying across yourfeet; one half of his face is quite dark and the other half white, buthe has such a peculiar black patch over the eye that one would almostthink it was a black bruise. " Now, sir, I had such a little dog inIndia, but this lady did not know of him, and would never have known hadhe not, as I afterwards found, died out there. This is not only a caseof the appearance of an animal after death, but also a case in which itwas seen by another animal, as also by the medium. I am also told thatthe pug-dog who had this vision of my dog was once seen to pounce uponwhat seemed to the medium to be several cats, near the copper in thescullery of the same house. The medium asked a neighbour if the previousoccupants had had any cats. "Oh, yes, " replied the neighbour, "and badlythe poor things were served, for they were cruelly thrown into thecopper, which was full of boiling water. "

 "SIMLA" (M. Conder). 

Letter 8

_Killed by a Street Car, but walks in at the Front Door_

Some five years ago we had a little puppy about six months old. I usedto train him to always go round the back way to come into the house. Oneday he got hurt and run over, being instantly killed by a street car. Aday or two after the accident I was going in my front door and I saw thedog go up the steps in front of me, as plain as I ever saw him in mylife. It seemed he knew that I had taught him he must not go in thefront way, because he would go a few steps and then turn round and lookat me, as though he wanted to see how I was taking it, and I positivelysaw him go to the full length of the hall into the house, a distance ofabout twenty feet, before he disappeared. I saw him do this at leastthree times in two months that we stayed in that flat. I told at least ahalf-dozen people of the incident at the time it happened, and I canvouch for its authenticity. 

 I remain, yours truly, "MAJILTON" (Chas. A. Thompson, Chicago, Ill. , U. S. A. ). 

Letter 9

_Mrs. Vincent Taylor's Experience. A Spirit Purr_

One evening in February, 1906, my son and I were quietly reading, infull gaslight, our small grey cat lying on the sofa a short distancefrom where I sat. Suddenly I saw on my knee a large red and white catwhich belonged to us in India, which was a very dear family friend andas fond of us as a child. 

On leaving India we were obliged to give him to a friend, and in the endhe shared the usual fate of pets in that country, making a meal for somewild animal. 

"Rufie-Oofie, " in his spirit shape, purred vigorously, rubbing his headagainst me and giving every sign of delight at seeing us again. I didnot speak, but in a few minutes my son looked up and said, "Mother, Rufie-Oofie is on your knee, " when the spirit cat jumped down and wentto him to be petted. Then he returned to me, and walked along the sofato where our present cat, "Kim, " was asleep. The spirit cat, with a lookof almost human fun, patted Kim's head, the latter awaking with a start. Rufie-Oofie continued to make playful dabs at Kim's ears, Kim followingeach movement with glaring eyes, distinctly seeing and realizing thatanother cat was invading his sofa, but not in the least angry with himand quite ready to play. After a few minutes the spirit cat came back tomy knee, whereupon the earth cat displayed jealousy which Rufie-Oofieresented, but before they came to actual "words" the spirit cat retiredbehind the veil. 

 "ARJÜNA. "

Letter 10

SIR, The following notes of psychological experiences with animals may be ofinterest:--

I had a collie who lived to a good old age. She was deaf and infirm, andone hind-leg was paralysed, so that it dragged as she walked. I wastaken ill, not seriously, nor so as in any way to affect my brain, butas my poor old dog would insist on coming and lying in my room thedoctor insisted on her being destroyed. I felt that her life was nopleasure to her, and she was killed with chloroform. Three daysafterwards in the afternoon I heard her come upstairs with her dragginghind-leg. I heard her steps come along the long passage which had myroom at the end, and lost them about half-way up. On the third day Icalled her and spoke to her, putting out my hand as if she would comeand put her head under it, and told her all was right. I never heard herany more. 

I believe that on one occasion she told me by thought transference thatshe had no water in her pan. The pan was always filled, and I knew thatshe wanted something, but thought of all other wants but water. She madeher eyes protrude, and looked at me intently, and "water" flashed intomy mind. I looked and found the pan empty. It is, of course, possiblethat the suggestion came from my own subconscious mind. I never saw theaura of a human being, but I once had a kind of vision of this dog, which experts have told me was her aura. I was sitting by the fire, somewhat somnolent, and he was lying on the hearthrug. All at once hisgolden brown coat disappeared, and I saw a mass of reddish brown orperhaps I should say brownish red, and on one side of it was anirregular patch of fleecy white, bordered with sapphire blue. I was toldthat the brownish red represented the dog's animal instincts, the pearlywhite his animal innocence, and the sapphire blue his devotionalinstinct, in his case directed to me as his deity. Whether any of yourreaders have had similar experiences and explain them similarly, I donot know. 

I had to go abroad one summer and my dog was ill with eczema, and as Idid not very much trust the maid I was leaving in charge, I sent him tothe vet's to be treated. As soon as I reached my destination I wrote toa friend to go and inquire how he was. She replied that the dog wasperfectly miserable, and that he had an enormous wound on his back, thathe had eaten nothing for a week, that he was too weak to stand, and thatif he were hers, she would have him put out of his misery at once. Iwrote at once to the vet, telling him to telegraph "Curable" or"Hopeless, " and to act accordingly. Meanwhile, I sat that afternoon inthe Bürgerpark by myself and imagined the dog upon my lap, and myselfstroking and healing him. After this I found myself fully believing thathe would get better. The telegram I received was "Curable, " and myfriend wrote a second letter and said it was a miracle, for the dog wasquite convalescent. He recovered perfectly. Here, again, however, it mayhave been that he was breaking his heart for a friend, and that myfriend's visit cheered him. Or may not both causes have had theireffect?

 "AMBROSE ZAIL MARTYN. "

Here is another case in the veracity of which I have every confidence. Iwill call it

_The Headless Cat of No. ---- Lower Seedley Road, Seedley, Manchester_

It was related to me by Mr. Robert Dane, who was at one time a tenant ofNo. ---- Lower Seedley Road, Seedley. I quote it as nearly as possiblein his words, thus:--

"When we--my wife and I--took No. ---- Lower Seedley Road, nopossibility of the place being haunted crossed our minds. Indeed ghostswere the very last things we reckoned on, as neither of us had theslightest belief in them. Like the generality of solicitors, I am stodgyand unimaginative, whilst my wife is the most practical andmatter-of-fact little woman you would meet in a day's march. Nor wasthere anything about the house that in any way suggested thesuperphysical. It was airy and light--no dark corners nor sinisterstaircases--and equipped throughout with all modern conveniences. Webegan our lease in June--the hottest June I remember--and nothingoccurred to disturb us till October. 

"It happened then in this wise. I will quote from my diary:--

"_Monday, October 11th_. --Dick--that is my brother-in-law--and I, at 11p. M. , were sitting smoking and chatting together in the study. All therest of the household had gone to bed. We had no light in the room--asDick had a headache--save the fire, and that had burned so low that itsfeeble glimmering scarcely enabled us to see each other's face. After aspace of sudden and thoughtful silence, Dick took the stump of a cigarfrom his lips and threw it in the grate, where for a few moments it layglowing in the gloom. 

"'Jack, ' he said, 'you will think me mad, but there is something deucedqueer about this room to-night--something in the atmosphere I cannotdefine, but which I have never felt here--or indeed anywhere--before. Look at that cigar-end--look!'

"I did so, and received a shock. What I saw was certainly not the stumpDick had had in his mouth, but an eye--a large, red and lurid eye--thatlooked up at us with an expression of the utmost hate. 

"Dick raised the shovel and struck at it, but without effect--it stillglared at us. A great horror then seized us, and unable to remove ourgaze from the hellish thing, we sat glued to our chairs staring at it. This state of affairs lasted till the clock in the hall outside strucktwelve, when the eye suddenly vanished, and we both felt as if someintensely evil influence had been suddenly removed. 

"Dick did not like the idea of sleeping alone, and asked if he mightkeep the electric light on in his room all night. Tremendousextravagance, but under the circumstances excusable. I confess Idevoutly wished it was morning. 

"_Tuesday, October 12th. _--I was awakened at 11. 30 p. M. By Delia sayingto me, 'Oh, Edward, there have been such dreadful noises on the landing, just as if a cat were being worried to death by dogs. Hark! there it isagain. ' And as she spoke, from apparently just outside the door, came aseries of loud screeches, accompanied by savage growls and snarls. 

"Not knowing what to make of it, as we had no animals of our own in thehouse, but concluding that a door or window having been left open, a dogand cat had got in from outside, I lit a candle, and opened the bedroomdoor. Instantly the sounds ceased and there was dead silence, andalthough I searched everywhere, not a vestige of any animal was to beseen. Moreover all the doors leading into the garden were shut andlocked, and the windows closed. Not wishing to frighten Delia, Ilaughingly assured her the cat--a black Tom--was all right, that it wassitting on the roof of the summer-house, looking none the worse for itstreatment, and that I had sent the dog--a terrier--flying out of thegate with a well-deserved kick. I explained it was my fault about thefront door being left open--my brain had been a bit overstrained throughexcessive work--and asked her on no account to blame the servants. Igrow alarmed at times when I realize how easy lawyering makes lying. 

"_Friday, October 21st. _--On my way to bed last night I encountered arush of icy cold air at the first bend of the staircase. The candleflared up, a bright blue flame, and went out. Something--an animal ofsorts--came tearing down the stairs past me, and on peering over thebanisters, I saw, looking up at me from the well of darkness beneath, two big red eyes, the counterparts of the one Dick and I had seen onOctober 11th. I threw a matchbox at them, but without effect. It wasonly when I switched on the electric light that they disappeared. Isearched the house most carefully, but there were no signs of anyanimal. Joined Delia, feeling nervous and henpecky. 

"_Monday, November 7th. _--Tom and Mable came running into Delia's roomin a great state of excitement after tea to-day. 'Mother!' they cried, 'Mother! Do come! Some horrid dog has got a cat in the spare room and istearing it to pieces. ' Delia, who was mending my socks at the time, flung them anywhere, and springing to her feet, flew to the spare room. The door was shut, but proceeding from within was the most appallingpandemonium of screeches and snarls, just as if some dog had got hold ofa cat by the neck and was shaking it to death. Delia swung open the doorand rushed in. The room was empty--not a trace of a cat or doganywhere--and the sounds ceased! On my return home Delia met me in thegarden. 'Jack!' she said, 'I have probed the mystery at last. The houseis haunted! We must leave. '

"_Saturday, November 12th. _--Sublet house to James Barstow, retired oilmerchant, to-day. He comes in on the 30th. Hope he'll like it!

"_Tuesday, November 15th. _--Cook left to-day. 'I've no fault to findwith you, mum, ' she condescendingly explained to Delia. 'It's not you, nor the children, nor the food. It's the noises at night--screechesoutside my door, which sound like a cat, but which I know can't be acat, as there is no cat in the house. This morning, mum, shortly afterthe clock struck two, things came to a climax. Hearing something in thecorner and wondering if it was a mouse--I ain't a bit afraid of mice, mum--I sat up in bed and was getting ready to strike a light--thematchbox was in my hand--when something heavy sprang right on the top ofme and gave a loud growl in my ear. That finished me, mum--I fainted. When I came to myself, I was too frightened to stir, but lay with myhead under the blankets till it was time to get up. I then searchedeverywhere, but there was no sign of any dog, and as the door was lockedthere was no possibility of any dog having got in during the night. Mum, I wouldn't go through what I suffered again for fifty pounds; I've gotpalpitations even now; and I would rather go without my month's wagesthan sleep in that room another night. ' Delia paid her up to date, andshe went directly after tea. 

"_Friday, November 18th. _--As I was coming out of the bathroom at 11p. M. Something fell into the bath with a loud splash. I turned to seewhat it was--there was nothing there. I ran up the stairs to bed, threesteps at a time!

"_Sunday, November 20th. _--Went to church in the morning and heard theusual Oxford drawl. On the way back I was pondering over the sermon andwishing I could contort the Law as successfully as parsons contort theScriptures, when Dot--she is six to-day--came running up to me with avery scared expression in her eyes. 'Father, ' she cried, plucking me bythe sleeve, 'do hurry up. Mother is very ill. ' Full of dreadfulanticipations, I tore home, and on arriving found Delia lying on thesofa in a violent fit of hysterics. It was fully an hour before sherecovered sufficiently to tell me what had happened. Her account runsthus:--

"'After you went to church, ' she began, 'I made the custard pudding, jelly and blancmange for dinner, heard the children their collects, andhad just sat down with the intention of writing a letter to mother, whenI heard a very pathetic mew coming, so I thought, from under the sofa. Thinking it was some stray cat that had got in through one of thewindows, I tried to entice it out, by calling "Puss, puss, " and makingthe usual silly noise people do on such occasions. No cat coming out andthe mewing still continuing, I knelt down and peered under the sofa. There was no cat there. Had it been night I should have been very muchafraid, but I could scarcely reconcile myself to the idea of ghostswith the room filled with sunshine. Resuming my seat I went on with mywriting, but not for long. The mewing grew nearer. I distinctly heardsomething crawl out from under the sofa; there was then a pause, duringwhich you could have heard the proverbial pin fall, and then somethingsprang upon me and dug its claws in my knees. I looked down, and to myhorror and distress, perceived, standing on its hind-legs, pawing myclothes, a large, tabby cat, without a head--the neck terminating in amangled stump. The sight so appalled me that I don't know what happened, but nurse and the children came in and found me lying on the floor inhysterics. Can't we leave the house at once?'

"_Wednesday, November 30th. _--Left No. ---- Lower Seedley Road at 2 p. M. Had an awful scurry to get things packed in time, and dread openingcertain of the packing-cases lest we shall find all the crockerysmashed. Just as we were starting Delia cried out that she had left herreticule behind, and I was despatched in search of it. I searchedeverywhere--till I was worn out, for I know what Delia is--and wasleaving the premises in full anticipation of being sent back again, whenthere was a loud commotion in the hall, just as if a dog had suddenlypounced on a cat, and the next moment a large tabby, with the head hewnaway as Delia had described, rushed up to me and tried to spring on tomy shoulders. At this juncture one of the servants cautiously opened thehall door from without, and informed me I was wanted. The cat instantlyvanished, and, on my reaching the carriage in a state of breathlesshaste and trepidation, Delia told me she had found her reticule--she hadbeen sitting on it all the time!"

In a subsequent note in his diary a year or so later Mr. Dane says:"After innumerable enquiries _re_ the history of No. ---- Lower SeedleyRoad prior to our inhabiting it, I have at length elicited the fact thattwelve years ago a Mr. And Mrs. Barlowe lived there. They had one son, Arthur, whom they spoilt in the most outrageous fashion, even to theextent of encouraging him in acts of cruelty. To afford him amusementthey used to buy rats for his dog--a fox-terrier--to worry, and on oneoccasion procured a stray cat, which the servants afterwards declaredwas mangled in the most shocking manner before being finally destroyedby Arthur. Here, then, in my opinion, is a very feasible explanation forthe hauntings--the phenomenon seen was the phantasm of the poor, tortured cat. For if human tragedies are re-enacted by ghosts, why notanimal tragedies too? It is absurd to suppose man has the monopoly ofsoul or spirit. "

_The Cat on the Post_

In her _Ghosts and Family Legends_ Mrs. Crowe narrates the followingcase of a haunting by the phantom of a cat:--

"After the doctor's story, I fear mine will appear too trifling, " saidMrs. M. , "but as it is the only circumstance of the kind that everhappened to myself, I prefer giving it you to any of the many stories Ihave heard. 

"About fifteen years ago I was staying with some friends at amagnificent old seat in Yorkshire, and our host being very much crippledwith the gout, was in the habit of driving about the park andneighbourhood in a low pony phaeton, on which occasions I oftenaccompanied him. One of our favourite excursions was to the ruins of anold abbey just beyond the park, and we generally returned by aremarkably pretty rural lane leading to the village, or rather smalltown, of C----. 

"One fine summer's evening we had just entered this lane when, seeingthe hedges full of wild flowers, I asked my friend to let me alight andgather some. I walked before the carriage picking honeysuckles and rosesas I went along, till I came to a gate that led into a field. It was acommon country gate with a post on each side, and on one of these postssat a large white cat, the finest animal of the kind I had ever seen;and as I have a weakness for cats I stopped to admire this sleek, fatpuss, looking so wonderfully comfortable in a very uncomfortableposition, the top of the post, on which it was sitting with its feetdoubled up under it, being out of all proportion to its body, for noAngola ever rivalled it in size. 

"'Come on gently, ' I called to my friend; 'here's such a magnificentcat!' for I feared the approach of the phaeton would startle it awaybefore he had seen it. 

"'Where?' said he, pulling up his horse opposite the gate. 

"'There, ' said I, pointing to the post. 'Isn't he a beauty? I wonder ifit would let me stroke it?'

"'I see no cat, ' said he. 

"'There on the post, ' said I, but he declared he saw nothing, thoughpuss sat there in perfect composure during this colloquy. 

"'Don't you see the cat, James?' said I in great perplexity to thegroom. 

"'Yes, ma'am; a large white cat on that post. '

"I thought my friend must be joking, or losing his eyesight, and Iapproached the cat, intending to take it in my arms and carry it to thecarriage; but as I drew near she jumped off the post, which was naturalenough, but to my surprise she jumped into nothing--as she jumped shedisappeared! No cat in the field--none in the lane--none in the ditch!

"'Where did she go, James?'

"'I don't know, ma'am. I can't see her, ' said the groom, standing up inhis seat and looking all round. 

"I was quite bewildered; but still I had no glimmering of the truth; andwhen I got into the carriage again my friend said he thought I and Jameswere dreaming, and I retorted that I thought he must be going blind. 

"I had a commission to execute as we passed through the town, and Ialighted for that purpose at the little haberdasher's; and while theywere serving me I mentioned that I had seen a remarkably beautiful catsitting on a gate in the lane, and asked if they could tell me who itbelonged to, adding it was the largest cat I ever saw. 

"The owners of the shop, and two women who were making purchases, suspended their proceedings, looked at each other and then looked at me, evidently very much surprised. 

"'Was it a white cat, ma'am?' said the mistress. 

"'Yes, a white cat; a beautiful creature and----'

"'Bless me!' cried two or three, 'the lady's seen the white cat ofC----. It hasn't been seen these twenty years. '

"'Master wishes to know if you'll soon be done, ma'am. The pony isgetting restless, ' said James. 

"Of course I hurried out, and got into the carriage, telling my friendthat the cat was well known to the people at C----, and that it wastwenty years old. 

"In those days, I believe, I never thought of ghosts, and least of allshould have thought of the ghost of a cat; but two evenings afterwards, as we were driving down the lane, I again saw the cat in the sameposition and again my companion could not see it, though the groom did. I alighted immediately, and went up to it. As I approached it turned itshead and looked full towards me with its soft mild eyes, and a friendlyexpression, like that of a loving dog; and then, without moving from thepost, it began to fade gradually away, as if it were a vapour, till ithad quite disappeared. All this the groom saw as well as myself; and nowthere could be no mistake as to what it was. A third time I saw it inbroad daylight, and my curiosity greatly awakened, I resolved to makefurther enquiries amongst the inhabitants of C----, but before I had anopportunity of doing so, I was summoned away by the death of my eldestchild, and I have never been in that part of the world since. 

"However, I once mentioned the circumstance to a lady who was acquaintedwith that neighbourhood, and she said she had heard of the white cat ofC----, but had never seen it. "

This is Mrs. M. 's account as related by Mrs. Crowe, and after perusingthe authoress's preface to the work, I am inclined to give it fullcredence. 

_The Mystic Properties of Cats_

The most common forms of animal phenomena seen in haunted houses areundoubtedly those of cats. The number of places reported to me as beinghaunted by cats is almost incredible--in one street in Whitechapel thereare no less than four. This state of affairs may possibly be accountedfor by the fact that cats, more than any other animals that live inhouses, meet with sudden and unnatural ends, especially in the poorerdistricts, where the doctrine of kindness to animals has not as yet madeitself thoroughly felt. Now I am touching on the subject of cat ghosts, it may not be out of place to reproduce the following article of mine, entitled "Cats and the Unknown, " which appeared in the _Occult Review_for December, 1912:--

"Since, from all ages, the cat has been closely associated with thesupernatural, it is not surprising to learn that images and symbols ofthat animal figured in the temples of the sun and moon, respectively, inancient Egypt. According to Horapollo, the cat was worshipped in theTemple of Heliopolis, sacred to the sun, because the size of the pupilof the cat's eye is regulated by the height of the sun above thehorizon. 

"Other authorities suggest a rather more subtle--and, in my opinion, more probable--reason, namely, that the link between the sun and the catis not merely physical but superphysical, that the cat is attracted tothe sun not only because it loves warmth, but because the sun keeps offterrifying and antagonistic occult forces, to the influences of whichthe cat, above all other animals, is specially susceptible; a fact fullyrecognized by the Egyptians, who, to show their understanding andappreciation of this feline attachment, took care that whenever a templewas dedicated to the sun an image or symbol of the cat was placedsomewhere, well in evidence, within the precincts. 

"To make this theory all the more probable, images and symbols of thecat were dedicated to the moon, the moon being universally regarded asthe quintessence of everything supernatural, the very cockpit, in fact, of mystery and spookism. The nocturnal habits of the cat, its love ofprowling about during moonlight hours, and the spectacle of its tworound, gleaming eyes, may, of course, as Plutarch seems to have thought, have suggested to the Egyptians human influence and analogy, and thusthe presence of its effigy in temples to Isis would be partially, at allevents, accounted for; though, as before, I am inclined to think thereis another and rather more subtle reason. 

"From endless experiments made in haunted houses, I have proved to myown satisfaction, at least, that the cat acts as a thoroughly reliablepsychic barometer. 

"The dog is sometimes unaware of the proximity of the Unknown. When theghost materializes or in some other way demonstrates its advent, thedog, occasionally, is wholly undisturbed--the cat never. I have neveryet had a cat with me that has not shown the most obvious signs ofterror and uneasiness both before and during a superphysicalmanifestation. 

"Now, although I won't go so far as to say that ghostly demonstrationsare actually dependent on the moon--that they occur only on nights whenthe moon is visible--experience has led me to believe that the moon mostcertainly does influence them--that moonlight nights are much morefavourable to ghostly appearances than other nights. Hence--there isthis much in common between the moon and cats--the one influences andthe other is influenced by psychic phenomena--a fact that could scarcelyhave failed to be recognized by so keen observers of the occult as theAncient Egyptians. 

"The presence of the cat's effigy in the temples of Isis might thus beexplained. Over and over again we come across the cat in the land of thePharaohs. It seems to be inseparable from the esoteric side of Egyptianlife. The goddess Bast is depicted with a cat's head, holding thesistrum, i. E. The symbol of the world's harmony, in her hand. 

"One of the most ancient symbols of the cat is to be found in theNecropolis of Thebes, which contains the tomb of Hana (who probablybelonged to the Eleventh Dynasty). There, Hana is depicted standingerect, proud and kingly, with his favourite cat Borehaki--Borehaki, thepicture of all things strange and psychic, and from whom one cannot helpsupposing he may have chosen his occult inspiration--at his feet. Sosure were the Egyptians that the cat possessed a soul that they deemedit worthy of the same funeral rites they bestowed on man. Cats wereembalmed, and innumerable cat mummies have been discovered in woodencoffins at Bubastis, Speos, Artemidos and Thebes. When a cat died theEgyptians shaved their eyebrows, not only to show grief at the loss oftheir loved one, but to avert subsequent misfortune. 

"So long as a cat was in his house the Egyptian felt safe from inimicalsupernatural influences, but if there was no cat in the house at night, then any undesirable from the occult world might visit him. Indeed, insuch high esteem did the Egyptians hold the cat, that they voluntarilyincurred the gravest risks when its life was in peril. No one of themappreciated the cat and set a higher value on its mystic properties thanthe Sultan El-Daher-Beybas, who reigned in A. D. 1260, and has beencompared with William of Tripoli for his courage, and with Nero for hiscruelty. El-Daher-Beybas kept his palace swarming with cats, and--if wemay give credence to tradition--was seldom to be seen unaccompanied byone of these animals. When he died, he left the proceeds from theproduct of a garden to support his feline friends--an example that foundmany subsequent imitators. Indeed, until comparatively recently inCairo, cats were regularly fed, between noon and sunset, in the outercourt of the Mehkemeh. 

"In Geneva, Rome and Constantinople, though cats were generally deemedto have souls and to possess psychic properties, they were thought toderive them from evil sources, and so strong was the prejudice againstthese unfortunate animals on this account, that all through the MiddleAges we find them suffering such barbaric torture as only the pervertedminds of a fanatical, priest-ridden people could devise (whichtreatment, no doubt, partly, at all events, accounts for the manypalaces, houses, etc. , in those particular countries, stated to havebeen haunted by the spirits of cats). 

"The devil was popularly supposed to appear in the shape of a black Tomin preference to assuming any other guise, and the bare fact of an oldwoman being seen, once or twice, with a black cat by her side was quitesufficient to earn for her the reputation of a witch. It would be idle, of course, to expect people in these unmeditative times to believe therewas ever the remotest truth underlying these so-called phantasticsuppositions of the past; yet, according to reliable testimony, thereare, at the present moment, many houses in England haunted by phantasmsin the form of black cats, of so sinister and hostile an appearance, that one can only assume that unless they are the actual spirits ofcats, earthbound through cruel and vicious propensities, they must bevice-elementals, i. E. Spirits that have never inhabited any materialbody, and which have either been generated by vicious thoughts, or elsehave been attracted elsewhere to a spot by some crime or vicious actonce perpetrated there. Vice-elemental is merely the modern name forfiend or demon. 

"Apart from his luciferan qualities, the cat was awarded all sorts ofother qualities, not the least important of which was its propheticcapability. If a cat washed its face, rainy weather was regarded asinevitable; if a cat frolicked on the deck of a ship, it was a sure signof a storm; whilst if a live ember fell on a cat, an earthquake shockwould speedily be felt. Cats, too, were reputed the harbingers of goodand bad fortune. Not a person in Normandy but believed, at one time, that the spectacle of a tortoiseshell cat, climbing a tree, foretolddeath from accident, and that a black cat crossing one's path, in themoonlight, presaged death from an epidemic. Two black cats viewed in theopen between 4 and 7 a. M. Were generally believed to predict a death;whereas a strange white cat, heard mewing on a doorstep, was loudlywelcomed as the indication of an approaching marriage. According totradition, one learns that cats were occasionally made use of inmedicine; to cure peasants of skin diseases, French sorcerers sprinklingthe afflicted parts with three drops of blood drawn from the vein undera cat's tail; whilst blindness was treated by blowing into thepatient's eyes, three times a day, the dust made from ashes of the headof a black cat that had been burned alive. 

"Talking of burning cats reminds me of a horrible practice that wasprevalent in the Hebrides as late as 1750. It was firmly believed therethat cats were extraordinarily psychic, and that a sure means of gettingin close touch with occult powers, and of obtaining from them thefaculty of second sight--such as the cat possessed--was to offer up assacrifices innumerable black cats. The process was very simple. A blackcat was fastened to a spit before a slow fire, and as soon as thewretched animal was well roasted, another took its place; victims beingsupplied without intermission, until their vociferous screams brought tothe scene a number of ghostly cats who joined in the chorus. The desiredclimax was reached, when an enormous phantom cat suddenly appeared, andinformed the operator that it was willing to grant him any one requestif he would only refrain from his cruel persecution. The operator atonce demanded the faculty of second sight--a power more highly prized inthe Hebrides than any other--and the moment it was bestowed on him, setfree the remaining cats. Had all races been as barbarously disposed asthese occult-hungering Westerners, cats would soon have become extinct;but it is comforting to think that in some parts of the world a verydifferent value was set on their psychic properties. 

"In various parts of Europe (some districts of England included) whitecats were thought to attract benevolently disposed fairies, and apeasant would as soon have thought of cutting off his fingers, orotherwise maltreating himself, as being unkind to an animal of thisspecies. In the fairy lore of half Europe we have instances ofluck-bringing cats--each country producing its own version of Puss inBoots, Dame Mitchell and her cat, the White Cat, Dick Whittington andhis cat, etc. It is the same in Asia, too; for nowhere are such storiesmore prolific than in China and Persia. 

"To sum up--in all climes and in all periods of past history, the catwas credited with many propensities that brought it into affinity andsympathy with the supernatural--or to quote the up-to-dateterm--superphysical world. Let us review the cat to-day, and see to whatextent this past regard of it is justified. 

"Firstly, with respect to it as the harbinger of fortune. Has a catinsight into the future? Can it presage wealth or death? I am inclinedto believe that certain cats can at all events foresee the advent of thelatter; and that they do this in the same manner as the shark, crow, owl, jackal, hyena, etc. , viz. By their abnormally developed sense ofsmell. My own and other people's experience has led me to believe thatwhen a person is about to die, some kind of phantom, maybe, a spiritwhose special function it is to be present on such occasions, is inclose proximity to the sick or injured one, waiting to escort his or hersoul into the world of shadows--and that certain cats scent itsapproach. 

"Therein then--in this wonderful property of smell--lies one of thesecrets to the cat's mysterious powers, it has the psychic faculty ofscent--of scenting ghosts. Some people, too, have this faculty. In arecent murder case, in the North of England, a rustic witness gave it inher evidence that she was sure a tragedy was about to happen because she"smelt death in the house, " and it made her very uneasy. Cats possessingthis peculiarity are affected in a similar manner--they are uneasy. 

"Before a death in a house I have watched a cat show graduallyincreasing signs of uneasiness. It has moved from place to place, unableto settle in any one spot for any length of time, had frequent fits ofshivering, gone to the door, sniffed the atmosphere, thrown back itshead and mewed in a low, plaintive key, and shown the greatestreluctance to being alone in the dark. 

"This faculty--possessed by certain cats--may in some measure explaincertain of the superstitions respecting them. Take, for example, that ofcats crossing one's path predicting death. 

"The cat is drawn to the spot because it scents the phantom of death, and cannot resist its magnetic attraction. 

"From this, it does not follow that the person who sees the cat is goingto die, but that death is overtaking someone associated with thatperson; and it is in connection with the latter that the spirit of thegrave is present, employing, as a medium of prognostication, the cat, which has been given the psychic faculty of smell that it might be soused. 

"But although I regard this theory as very feasible, I do not attributeto cats, with the same degree of certainty, the power to presage goodfortune, simply because I have had no experience of it myself. Yet, adopting the same lines of argument, I see no reason why cats should notprognosticate good as well as evil. 

"There may be phantoms representative of prosperity, in just the samemanner as there are those representative of death; they, too, may alsohave some distinguishing scent (flowers have various odours, so why notspirits?) and certain cats, i. E. White cats in particular, may beattracted by it. 

"This becomes all the more probable when one considers how veryimpressionable the cat is--how very sensitive to kindness. There aresome strangers with whom the cat will at once make friends, and otherswhom it will studiously avoid. Why? The explanation, I fancy, lies oncemore in the occult--in the cat's psychic faculty of smell. Kind peopleattract benevolently disposed phantoms, which bring with them anagreeably scented atmosphere, that, in turn, attracts cats. The catcomes to one person because it knows by the smell of the atmospheresurrounding him, or her, that it has nothing to fear--that the person isessentially gentle and benignant. On the contrary, cruel people attractmalevolent phantoms, distinguishable also to the cat by their smell, asmell typical of cruelty--often of homicidal lunacy (I have particularlynoticed how cats have shrunk from people who have afterwards becomedangerously insane). Is this sense of smell, then, the keynote to thehalo of mystery that has for all times surrounded the cat--that has ledto its bitter persecution--that has made it the hero of fairy lore, thepet of old maids? I believe it is--I believe that in this psychicfaculty of smell lies, in degree, the solution to the oft-askedriddle--why is the cat uncanny? Having then satisfied oneself on thispoint, namely, that cats are in the possession of rare psychicproperties, is it likely that the Unknown Powers which have so endowedthem, should withhold from them either souls or spirits? Is it notcontrary to reason, instinct, and observation to suppose that the manythoroughly material and grossly minded people--people whose whole beingsare steeped in money worship--we see around us every day should havespirits, and that pretty, refined and artistic-looking cats, whoseoccult powers place them in the very closest connection with thesuperphysical, should not? Monstrous--the bare conception of suchincongruity in the one case, and such an omission in the other, isinconceivable, wholly irreconcilable with the notion of any other than amummer of a creator--a mere court fool of a God. "

CHAPTER II

APPARITIONS OF DOGS

One of the most extraordinary cases of hauntings by the phantasms ofdogs is related in an old Christmas number of the _Review of Reviews_, edited by the late Mr. W. T. Stead, and entitled "Real Ghost Stories. "

"The most remarkable, " writes Mr. Stead, "of all the stories which Ihave heard concerning ghosts which touch is one that reaches me fromDarlington. I owe this, as I owe so many of the other narratives in thiscollection, to the Rev. Harry Kendall, of Darlington, whose painstakingperseverance in the collection of all matters of this kind cannot be toohighly praised. Mr. Kendall is a Congregational minister of oldstanding. He was my pastor when I was editing the _Northern Echo_, andhe is the author of a remarkable book, entitled _All the World's Akin_. The following narrative is quite unique in its way, and fortunately hewas able to get it at first hand from the only living person present. Here we have a ghost which not only strikes the first blow, hitting aman fair in the eye, but afterwards sets a ghostly dog upon his victimand then disappears. The narrative was signed by Mr. James Durham aslately as December 5th, 1890. " Mr. Stead then proceeds to quote theaccount which he had from Mr. Kendall, and which I append _ad verbum_from the _Review of Reviews_. It is as follows: "I was night watchman atthe old Darlington and Stockton Station at the town of Darlington, a fewyards from the first station that ever existed. I was there fifteenyears. I used to go on duty about 8 p. M. And come off at 6 a. M. I hadbeen there a little while--perhaps two or three years--and about fortyyears ago. One night during winter at about 12 o'clock or 12. 30 I wasfeeling rather cold with standing here and there; I said to myself, 'Iwill away down and get something to eat. ' There was a porter's cellarwhere a fire was kept on and a coal-house was connected with it. So Iwent down the steps, took off my overcoat, and had just sat down on thebench opposite the fire and turned up the gas when a strange man cameout of the coal-house, followed by a big black retriever. As soon as heentered my eye was upon him, and his eye upon me, and we were intentlywatching each other as he moved on to the front of the fire. There hestood looking at me, and a curious smile came over his countenance. Hehad a stand-up collar and a cut-away coat with gilt buttons and a Scotchcap. All at once he struck at me, and I had the impression that he hitme. I up with my fist and struck back at him. My fist seemed to gothrough him and struck against the stone above the fireplace, andknocked the skin off my knuckles. The man seemed to be struck back intothe fire, and uttered a strange, unearthly squeak. Immediately the doggripped me by the calf of my leg, and seemed to cause me pain. The manrecovered his position, called off the dog with a sort of click of thetongue, then went back into the coal-house, followed by the dog. Ilighted my dark lantern and looked into the coal-house, but there wasneither dog nor man, and no outlet for them except the one by which theyhad entered. 

"I was satisfied that what I had seen was ghostly, and it accounted forthe fact that when the man had first come into the place where he sat Ihad not challenged him with any enquiry. Next day, and for severalweeks, my account caused quite a commotion, and a host of people spoketo me about it; among the rest old Edward Pease, father of railways, andhis three sons, John, Joseph, and Henry. Old Edward sent for me to hishouse and asked me all particulars. He and others put this question tome: "Are you sure you were not asleep and had the nightmare?" My answerwas quite sure, for I had not been a minute in the cellar, and was justgoing to get something to eat. I was certainly not under the influenceof strong drink, for I was then, as I have been for forty-nine years, ateetotaler. My mind at the time was perfectly free from trouble. Whatincreased the excitement was the fact that a man a number of yearsbefore, who was employed in the office of the station, had committedsuicide, and his body had been carried into this very cellar. I knewnothing of this circumstance, nor of the body of the man, but Mr. Peaseand others who had known him, told me my description exactlycorresponded to his appearance and the way he dressed, and also that hehad a black retriever just like the one which gripped me. I should addthat no mark or effect remained on the spot where I seemed to be seized. 

 "(Signed) JAMES DURHAM. "_Dec. 9th, 1890. _"

Following the above statement Mr. Stead appends Mr. Kendall's reasonsfor believing that what James Durham experienced was objective psychicphenomena, and neither produced during sleep nor by hallucination. 

The arguments used strike me as being so concise and sensible that Ithink it will not be out of place to reproduce them. 

"First, " Mr. Kendall says, "he (James Durham) was accustomed as watchmanto be up all night, and therefore not likely from that cause to feelsleepy. Secondly, he had scarcely been a minute in the cellar, and, feeling hungry, was just going to get something to eat. Thirdly, if hewas asleep at the beginning of the vision, he must have been awakeenough during the latter part of it when he had knocked the skin off hisknuckles. Fourthly, there was his own confident testimony. I stronglyincline to the opinion that there was an objective cause for the vision, and that it was genuinely apparitional. "

So interested was Mr. Kendall in the case that he visited the spot someshort time later. He was taken into the cellar where the manifestationstook place, and his guide, an old official of the North Road Station, informed him he well remembered the clerk--a man of the name ofWinter--who committed suicide there, and showed him the exact spot wherehe had shot himself with a pistol. In dress and appearance Mr. Wintercorresponded minutely with the phenomenon described by James Durham, andhe had had a black retriever. 

Mr. Kendal came away more convinced than ever of the veracity of JamesDurham's story, though he admits it was not evidential after the highstandard of the S. P. R. I do not know whether the S. P. R. Published thecase, and I certainly do not think Mr. Kendall need have minded if theydid not--for after all there is no reason to suppose the judgment of theS. P. R. Is always infallible. 

Mr. Stead does not comment on the apparition of the dog, which leads oneto suppose cases of animal phantasms were by no means uncommon to him. 

_The Grey Dog of ---- House, Birmingham_

According to a story current in the Midlands, a house in Birmingham, near the Roman Catholic Cathedral, was once very badly haunted. A familywho took up their abode in it in the 'eighties complained of hearing allsorts of uncanny sounds--such as screams and sighs--coming from a roombehind the kitchen. On one occasion the tenant's wife, on entering thesitting-room, was almost startled out of her senses at seeing, standingbefore the fireplace, the figure of a tall, stout man with a large, greydog by his side. What was so alarming about the man was his face--it wasapparently a mere blob of flesh without any features in it. The ladyscreamed out, whereupon there was a terrific crash, as if all thecrockery in the house had been suddenly clashed on the stone floor; anda friend of the lady's, attracted to the spot by the noise, saw twoclouds of vapour, one resembling a man and the other a dog, which, afterhovering over the hearth for several seconds, finally dispersedaltogether. 

A gasfitter, when working in the house, saw the same figures no lessthan nine times, and so distinctly that he was able to give a detaileddescription of both the man and dog. 

The house seems to have been well known in Birmingham, and was certainlystanding as recently as 1885. Many theories were advanced as to itshistory, the one gaining most credence being that it was occupied, in1829, by a man who supplied the medical students with human bodies. 

It was noticed at the time that many people who were seen to enter thehouse in the company of the owner were never seen to leave it, whichaccords well with the theory of resurrection men. 

No suggestion has been offered to account for the animal, which may veryeasily have been the phantom of the murderer's dog, or, what is ratherless likely, the dog of one of his numerous victims. 

Anyhow, explanation or no explanation, the fact remains the house washaunted in the manner described, and F. Grey, a Warwickshire ChiefConstable, in his _Recollections_, published 1821, alludes to it. 

_The Dog in the Cupboard_

Miss Prettyman, whom I met some years ago in Cornwall, told me she oncelived in a house in Westmorland that was haunted by the apparition of alarge dog, enveloped in a blueish glow, which apparently emanated fromwithin it. The dog, whilst appearing in all parts of the house, invariably vanished in a big cupboard at the back of the hall staircase. Miss Prettyman, her family, several of their visitors, and the servantsall saw the same phantasm, and were, perhaps, more frightened by thesuddenness of its advent than by its actual appearance. 

The theory was that it was the ghost of some dog that had been cruellydone to death--possibly by starvation--in the cupboard. 

_How the Ghost of a Dog saved Life_

When I was a boy, an elderly friend of mine, Miss Lefanu, narrated to mean anecdote which impressed me much. It was to this effect. 

Miss Lefanu was walking one day along a very lonely country lane, whenshe suddenly observed an enormous Newfoundland dog following in her wakea few yards behind. Being very fond of dogs, she called out to it in acaressing voice and endeavoured to stroke it. To her disappointment, however, it dodged aside, and repeated the manoeuvre every time shetried to touch it. At length, losing patience, she desisted, and resumedher walk, the dog still following her. In this fashion they went on, until they came to a particularly dark part of the road, where thebranches of the trees almost met overhead, and there was a pool ofstagnant, slimy water, suggestive of great depth. On the one side thehedge was high, but on the other there was a slight gap leading into athick spinney. Miss Lefanu never visited the spot alone after dusk, andhad been warned against it even in the daytime. As she drew near to it, everything that she had ever heard about it flashed across her mind, andshe was more than once on the verge of turning back, when the sight ofthe big, friendly-looking dog plodding behind, reassuring her, shepressed on. Just as she came to the gap, there was a loud snapping oftwigs, and, to her horror, two tramps, with singularly sinister faces, sprang out, and were about to strike her with their bludgeons, when thedog, uttering a low, ominous growl, dashed at them. In an instant theexpression of murderous joy in their eyes died out, one of abject terrortook its place, and, dropping their weapons, they fled, as if the verysalvation of their souls depended on it. As may be imagined, Miss Lefanulost no time in getting home, and the first thing she did on arrivingthere was to go into the kitchen and order the cook to prepare, at once, a thoroughly good meal for her gallant rescuer--the Newfoundland dog, which she had shut up securely in the back yard, with the laughingremark, "There--you can't escape me now. " Judge of her astonishment, however, when, on her return, the dog had gone. As the walls of the backyard were twelve feet high, and the doors had been shut all thewhile--no one having passed through them--it was impossible for theanimal to have escaped, and the only interpretation that could possiblybe put on the matter was that the dog was superphysical--a conclusionthat was subsequently confirmed by the experiences of various otherpeople. As the result of exhaustive enquiries Miss Lefanu eventuallylearned that many years before, on the very spot where the tramps hadleaped out on her, a pedlar and his Newfoundland dog had been discoveredmurdered. 

This story being true, then, there is one more link in the chain ofevidence to show that dogs, as well as men, have spirits, and spiritsthat can, on occasion, at least, perform deeds of practical service. 

_A Precentor's Story_

The late Mr. W. T. Stead, in his volume of _Real Ghost Stories_, narratesthe following, which by reason of its being witnessed by three peoplesimultaneously, may be regarded as highly evidential. 

In reply to Mr. Stead's request to hear the anecdote the precentor says(I quote him _ad verbum_):

"I was walking, about nine years ago, one night in August, about teno'clock, and about half a mile from the house where we are now sitting. I was going along the public road between the hamlets of Mill of Haldaneand Ballock. I had with me two young women, and we were leisurelywalking along, when suddenly we were startled by seeing a woman, a childabout seven years old, and a Newfoundland dog jump over the stone wallwhich was on one side of the road, and walk on rapidly in front of us. Iwas not in the least frightened, but my two companions were very muchstartled. What bothered me was that the woman, the child, and the dog, instead of coming over the wall naturally one after the other, as wouldhave been necessary for them to do, had come over with a bound, simultaneously leaping the wall, lighting on the road, and then hurryingon without a word. Leaving my two companions, who were too frightened tomove, I walked rapidly after the trio. They walked on so quickly that itwas with difficulty that I got up to them. I spoke to the woman, shenever answered. I walked beside her for some little distance, and thensuddenly the woman, the child, and the Newfoundland dog disappeared. Idid not see them go anywhere, they simply were no longer there. Iexamined the road minutely, at the spot where they had disappeared, tosee if it was possible for them to have gone through a hole in the wallon either side; but it was quite impossible for a woman and a child toget over a high dyke on either side. They had disappeared, and I onlyregret that I did not try to pass my stick right through their bodies, to see whether or not they had any resistance. Finding they had gone, Ireturned to my lady friends, who were quite unnerved, and who, withdifficulty, were induced to go on to the end of their journey. "

One of his companions, Mr. Stead goes on to explain, who heard him tellthe story at the time, corroborated the fact that it had made a greatimpression on those who had seen it. Nothing was ever ascertained as toany woman, child, or Newfoundland dog that had ever been in the districtbefore. When they got to Ballock they enquired of the keeper of thebridge whether a woman, a child, and a dog had passed that way, but hehad seen nothing. The apparition had disappeared as suddenly as it hadappeared. Mr. Stead's article ends here. Of course, one can only surmiseas to the nature of the phenomena. No member of the Psychical ResearchSociety could do more--and in the absence of any authentic history ofthe spot where the manifestations occurred, such a surmise can be oflittle value. Since the phenomena were seen by three people at the sametime, it is quite safe to assume they were objective, but it isimpossible to lay down the law as to whether they were actual phantasmsof the dead--of a woman, child, and Newfoundland dog who had all threemet with some violent end--or phantasms of three living beings, who, happening to think of that locality at the same time, had projectedtheir immaterial bodies there simultaneously. But whichever of thesealternatives be true, the same thing holds good in either case, viz. That the Newfoundland dog had a spirit--and what applies to one dogshould assuredly apply to the generality, if not, indeed, to all. 

_Phantom Dog seen on Souter Fell_

Miss Harriet Martineau, in her _English Lakes_, refers to certainstrange phenomena seen from time to time on Souter Fell. 

In 1745, for example, a Mr. Wren and his servant saw, simultaneously, aman and dog pursuing some horses along a razor-like ridge of rocks, onwhich it was obviously impossible for any ordinary being to gain a barefoothold, let alone walk. They watched the figures until the lattersuddenly vanished, when Mr. Wren and his servant, thinking, perhaps, theman, dog, and horses had really fallen over the cliff, went to look forthem. They searched elsewhere, but despite their vigilance, nothing wasto be found, and convinced at last that what they had seen was somethingsuperphysical, they came away mystified, and no doubt somewhatfrightened. 

There is no suggestion to make here other than the manifestations mayhave been the phantasms of a man, dog, and horses that at some formerdate had been killed, either accidentally or purposely, in or near thatspot. 

_The Jumping Ghost_

Mr. George Sinclair, in his work _Satan's Invisible World Discovered_, gives a detailed account of hauntings in a house in Mary King's Close, Edinburgh. 

The house, at the time Mr. Sinclair writes, was occupied by Mr. ThomasColtheart, a law agent. Seated one afternoon at home reading, Mrs. Coltheart was immeasurably startled at seeing, suspended in mid-airgazing at her, the head of an old man. She uttered some sort ofexclamation, most probably a cry, and the apparition at once vanished. Some nights later, when in bed, both she and her husband saw the samehead, which was presently joined by the head of a child, and a long, naked arm, which tried to catch hold of them. 

On another occasion, a member of the Coltheart family was greatlyalarmed by the sudden appearance of a large dog, which leaped on thechair by her side, and as suddenly disappeared. 

Every effort was made to lay the ghosts. Ministers--and one knows howpious Scotch clergymen are--were called in, but their exhortations, instead of dispelling or even minimizing the phenomena, only increasedthem. It was a case of more prayers, more spooks; which state ofaffairs, however complimentary to the ministers' powers of address, wasscarcely as comforting to the Colthearts, who, unable to bear thestrange sights and noises any longer, evacuated the premises. As noother tenants could be found, the house was eventually pulled down, anda row of fine modern buildings now occupy the site. As the history ofthe place could never be traced with any degree of authenticity, one cando no more than speculate as to the cause of the disturbances, which, Iam inclined to think, were due to the phantoms of people and animalsthat had once actually lived and died there. 

_Dogs seen before a Death_

Mrs. Crowe, in her _Night Side of Nature_, mentions the case of a younglady named P----, who saw a big black dog twice suddenly appear anddisappear by her side, immediately before the death of her mother. 

In _The Unseen World_ a story is also told of the phantasm of a bigblack dog appearing on the bed of a Cornish child, doomed to die shortlyafterwards, the same dog invariably manifesting itself before the deathof any member of the child's family. 

There are so many cases of a similar kind--one hears of them nearlyeverywhere one goes--that one is led to believe some of them, at least, must be true. There is no more reason to believe all ghost-story tellersare liars, than there is to believe all parsons are liars--and thisbeing so, additional proof is afforded of the continuation of the dog'slife after death; for these family canine ghosts are more than probablythe phantasms of dogs that once belonged to families--maybe centuriesago--and met their fate in some cruel and unnatural manner. 

_A Dog scared by a Canine Ghost_

A friend of mine, Edward Morgan, had a terrier that was found onemorning, poisoned in a big stone kennel. Soon afterwards this friendcame to me and said, "I have got a new dog--a spaniel--but nothing willinduce it to enter the kennel in which poor Zack was poisoned. Come andsee!"

I did so, and what he said was true. Mack (Morgan gave all his dogsnames that rhymed--Zack, Mack, Jack, Tack, and even Whack and Smack), when carried to the entrance of the kennel, resolutely refused to crossthe threshold, barking, whining, and exhibiting unmistakable symptoms offear. I knelt down, and peering into the kennel saw two luminous eyesand the distinct outlines of a dog's head. 

"Morgan!" I exclaimed, "the mystery is easily solved; there's a dog inhere. "

"Nonsense!" Morgan cried, speaking very excitedly. 

"But there is, " I retorted, "see for yourself. "

Morgan immediately bent down and poked his head into the kennel. 

"What rot, " he said. "You're having me on, there's nothing here. "

"What!" I cried, "do you mean to say you can see no dog?"

"No!" he replied, "there is none!"

"Let me look again!" I said, and kneeling down, I peeped in. 

"Do you mean to say you can't see a dog's face and eyes looking straightat us?" I asked. 

"No, " he answered, "I can see nothing. " And to prove to me the truth ofwhat he said, he fetched a pole and raked about the kennel vigorouslywith it. We both, then, tried to make Mack enter, and Morgan at lastcaught hold of him and placed him forcibly inside. Mack's terror knew nolimit. He gave one loud howl, and flying out of the kennel with his earshanging back, tore past into the front garden, where we left him inpeace. Morgan was still sceptical as to there being anything wrong withthe kennel, but two days later wrote to me as follows:--

"I must apologize for doubting you the other day. I have just had, whatyou declared you saw, corroborated. A friend of my wife's was callinghere this afternoon, and, on hearing of Mack's refusal to sleep in thekennel, at once said, 'I know what's the matter. It's the smell. Mackscents the poison which was used to destroy Zack. Have the kennelthoroughly fumigated, and you'll have no more trouble. ' At my wife'srequest she went into the yard to have a look at it, and the moment shebent down, she cried out like you did, 'Why, there's a dog inside--aterrier!' My wife and I both looked and could see nothing. The lady, however, persisted, and, on my handing her a stick, struck at the figureshe saw. To her amazement the stick went right through it. Then, and nottill then, did we tell her of your experience. 'Well!' she exclaimed, 'I have never believed in ghosts, but I do so now. I am quite certainthat what I see is the phantom of Zack! How glad I am, because I am atlast assured animals have spirits and can come back to us. '"

In concluding the accounts of phantasms of dead dogs, let me quote twocases taken from my work entitled _The Haunted Houses of London_, published by Mr. Eveleigh Nash, of Fawside House, King Street, CoventGarden, London, W. C. , in 1909. The cases are these:--

_The Phantom Dachshund of W---- St. , London, W. _

In letter No. 1 my correspondent writes:--

"Though I am by no means over-indulgent to dogs, the latter generallygreet me very effusively, and it would seem that there is something inmy individuality that is peculiarly attractive to them. This being so, Iwas not greatly surprised one day, when in the immediate neighbourhoodof X---- Street, to find myself persistently followed by a rough-haireddachshund wearing a gaudy yellow collar. I tried to scare it away byshaking my sunshade at it, but all to no purpose--it came resolutely on;and I was beginning to despair of getting rid of it, when I came toX---- Street, where my husband once practised as an oculist. There itsuddenly altered its tactics, and instead of keeping at my heels, became my conductor, forging slowly ahead with a gliding motion thatboth puzzled and fascinated me. I furthermore observed thatnotwithstanding the temperature--it was not a whit less than ninetydegrees in the shade--the legs and stomach of the dachshund were coveredwith mud and dripping with water. When it came to No. 90 it halted, andveering swiftly round, eyed me in the strangest manner, just as if ithad some secret it was bursting to disclose. It remained in thisattitude until I was within two or three feet of it--certainly notmore--when, to my unlimited amazement, it absolutely vanished--meltedaway into thin air. 

"The iron gate leading to the area was closed, so that there was nowherefor it to have hidden, and, besides, I was almost bending over it at thetime, as I wanted to read the name on its collar. There being no onenear at hand, I could not obtain a second opinion, and so came awaywondering whether what I had seen was actually a phantasm or a merehallucination. No. 90, I might add, judging by the brass plate on thedoor, was inhabited by a doctor with an unpronounceable foreign name, "etc. Etc. 

I think one cannot help attaching a great deal of importance to whatthis lady says, as her language is strictly moderate throughout, andbecause she does not seem to have been biassed by any special views onthe subject of animal futurity. 

Correspondent No. 2 (who, by the way, is a total stranger to the writerwhose letter I have just quoted) is candidly devoted to dogs, regardingthem as in every way on a par with, if not actually superior to, mosthuman beings. Still, notwithstanding this partiality, and consequentprofusion of terms of endearment, which will doubtless prove somewhatnauseating to many, her letter is, in my opinion, valuable, because itnot only refers to the phenomenon I have mentioned, but to a certainextent furnishes a reason for its occurrence. The lady writes asfollows:--

"I once had a rough-haired dachshund, Robert, whom I loved devotedly. Wewere living at the time near H---- Street, which always had a peculiarattraction for dear Robert, who, I am now obliged to confess, had rathertoo much liberty--more, indeed, than eventually proved good for him. Theservants complained that Robert ruled the house, and I believe what theysaid was true, for my sister and I idolized him, giving him the verybest of everything and never having the heart to refuse him anything hewanted. You will probably scarcely credit it, but I have sat up allnight nursing him when he had a cold and was otherwise indisposed. Canyou therefore imagine my feelings when my darling was absent one dayfrom dinner? Such a thing had never happened before, for, fond ofmorning 'constitutionals' as poor Robert was, he was always the soul ofpunctuality at meal times. 

"Neither my sister nor I would hear of eating anything. Whilst he wasmissing, not a morsel did we touch, but slipping on our hats, andbidding the servants do the same, we scoured the neighbourhood instead. The afternoon passed without any sign of Robert, and when bedtime came(he always slept in our room) and still no signs of our pet, I thoughtwe should both have gone mad. Of course, we advertised, selecting themost popular and, accordingly, the most likely papers, and we resortedto other mediums, too, but, alas! it was hopeless. Our darling littleRobert was irrevocably, irredeemably lost. For days we were utterlyinconsolable, doing nothing but mope morning, noon, and night. I cannottell you how forlorn we felt, nor how long we should have remained inthat state but for an incident which, although revealing the terriblemanner of his death, gave us every reason to feel sure we were notparted from him for all time, but would meet again in the greathereafter. It happened in this wise: I was walking along W---- Streetone evening when, to my intense joy and surprise, I suddenly saw mydarling standing on the pavement a few feet ahead of me, regarding meintently from out of his pathetic brown eyes. A sensation of extremecoldness now stole over me, and I noticed with something akin to a shockthat, in spite of the hot, dry weather, Robert looked as if he had beenin the rain for hours. He wore the bright yellow collar I had bought himshortly before his disappearance, so that had there been any doubt as tohis identity that would have removed it instantly. On my calling to him, he turned quickly round and, with a slight gesture of the head as ifbidding me to follow, he glided forward. My natural impulse was to runafter him, pick him up and smother him with kisses; but try as hard as Icould, I could not diminish the distance between us, although he neverappeared to alter his pace. I was quite out of breath by the time wereached H---- Street, where, to my surprise, he stopped at No. 90 and, turning round again, gazed at me in the most beseeching manner. I can'tdescribe that look; suffice it to say that no human eyes could have beenmore expressive, but of what beyond the most profound love and sorrow Icannot, I dare not, attempt to state. I have pondered upon it throughthe whole of a mid-summer night, but not even the severest of my mentalefforts have enabled me to solve it to my satisfaction. Could I but dothat, I feel I should have fathomed the greatest of all mysteries--themystery of life and death. 

"I do not know for how long we stood there looking at one another, itmay have been minutes or hours, or, again, but a few paltry seconds. Hetook the initiative from me, for, as I leaped forward to raise him in myarms, he glided through the stone steps into the area. 

"Convinced now that what I beheld was Robert's apparition, I determinedto see the strange affair through to the bitter end, and entering thegate, I also went down into the area. The phantom had come to an abrupthalt by the side of a low wooden box, and as I foolishly made anabortive attempt to reach it with my hand, it vanished instantaneously. I searched the area thoroughly, and was assured that there was nooutlet, save by the steps I had just descended, and no hole, nor nook, nor cranny where anything the size of Robert could be completely hiddenfrom sight. What did it all mean? Ah! I knew Robert had always had aweakness for exploring areas, especially in H---- Street, and in the boxwhere his wraith disappeared I espied a piece of raw meat!

"Now there are ways in which a piece of raw meat may lie withoutarousing suspicion, but the position of this morsel strangely suggestedthat it had been placed there carefully, and for assuredly no otherpurpose than to entice stray animals. Resolving to interrogate the ownerof the house on the subject, I rapped at the front door, but wasinformed by the manservant, obviously a German, that his master neversaw anyone without an appointment. I then did a very unwise thing--Iexplained the purpose of my visit to this man, who not only denied anyknowledge of my dog, but declared the meat must have been thrown intothe area by some passer-by. 

"'No one in dis house trow away gut meat like dat, ' he explained, 'weeat all we can git here, we have nutting for de animals. Please go awayat once, or de master will be very angry. He stand no nonsense fromanyone. '

"And as I had no alternative--for, after all, who would regard a ghostin the light of evidence?--I had to obey. I found out, however, from amedical friend that No. 90 was tenanted by Mr. K----, an Anglo-Germanwho was deemed a very clever fellow at a certain London hospital, wherehe was often occupied in vivisection. 

"'I dare say, ' my friend went on to remark, 'K---- does a littlevivisecting in his private surgery, by way of practice, and--well, yousee, these foreign chaps are not so squeamish in some respects as weare. '

"'But can't he be stopped?' I asked. 'It is horrible, monstrous that heshould be allowed to murder our pets. '

"'You don't know for certain that he has, ' was the reply, 'you onlysuppose so from what you say you saw, and evidence of that immaterialnature is no evidence at all. No, you can do nothing except to be extracareful in future, and if you have another dog make him steer clear ofNo. 90 H---- Street. '

"I was sensible enough to see that he was right, and the matter dropped. I soon noticed one thing, however, namely, that there were no morepieces of meat temptingly displayed in the box, so it is just possibleK---- got wind of my enquiries, and thought it policy to desist from hisnefarious practices. 

"Poor Robert! To think of him suffering such a cruel and ignominiousdeath, and my being powerless to avenge it. Surely if vivisection isreally necessary, and the welfare of mankind cannot be advanced by anyless barbarous system, why not operate on creatures less deserving ofour love and pity than dogs? On creatures which whilst being nearerallied to man in physiology and anatomy, are at the same time far belowthe level of brute creation in character and disposition. 

"For example, why not experiment on wife-beaters and cowardly streetruffians, and, one might reasonably add, on all thosepseudo-humanitarians who, by their constant petitions to Parliament forthe abolition of the lash, encourage every form of blackguardism andbestiality?"

This concludes the letter of correspondent No. 2, and with the sentimentin the closing paragraphs I must say I heartily agree--only I shouldlike to add a few more people to the list. 

One other case of haunting of this type is taken from my same work. 

"One All Hallow E'en, " wrote a Mrs. Sebuim, "I was staying with somefriends in Hampstead, and we amused ourselves by working spells, tocommemorate the night. There is one spell in which one walks alone downa path sowing hempseed, and repeating some fantastic words; when one issupposed to see those that are destined to come into one's life in thenear future. Eager to put this spell to the test, I went into the gardenby myself and, walking boldly along a path, bordered on each side byevergreens, sprinkled hempseed lavishly. 

"Nothing happening, I was about to desist, when suddenly I heard apattering on the gravel, and turning round I beheld an ugly littleblack-and-tan mongrel running towards me, wagging its stumpy tail. Notat all prepossessed with the creature, for my own dogs are pure-bred, and thinking it must have strayed into the grounds, I was about todrive it out, and had put down my hand to prevent it jumping on mydress, when, to my astonishment, it had vanished. It literally meltedaway into fine air beneath my very eyes. Not knowing what to make of theincident, but feeling inclined to attribute it to a trick of theimagination, I rejoined my friends. I did not tell them what hadhappened, although I made a memorandum of it in one of my innumerablenotebooks. Within six months of this incident I was greatly astonishedto find a dog, corresponding with the one I have just described, runningabout on the lawn of my house in Bath. How the animal got there was acomplete mystery, and, what is stranger still, it seemed to recognizeme, for it rushed towards me, frantically wagging its diminutive tail. Ihad not the heart to turn it away, as it seemed quite homeless, and sothe forlorn little mongrel was permitted to make its home in myhouse--and a very happy home it proved to be. For three years all wentwell, and then the end came swiftly and unexpectedly. I was inBlackheath at the time, and the mongrel was in Bath. It was All HallowE'en, but there was no hempseed sowing, for no one in the house butmyself took the slightest interest in anything appertaining to thesuperphysical or mystic. Eleven o'clock came, and I retired to rest; mybed being one of those antique four-posters, hung with curtains thatshine crimson in the ruddy glow of a cheerful fire. All my preparationscomplete, I had pulled back the hangings, and was about to slip inbetween the sheets, when, to my unbounded amazement, what should I seesitting on the counterpane but the black-and-tan mongrel. It was heright enough, there could not be another such ugly dog, though, unlikehis usual self, he evinced no demonstrations of joy. On the contrary, heappeared downright miserable. His ears hung, his mouth dropped, and hisbleared little eyes were watery and sad. 

"Greatly perplexed, if not alarmed, at so extraordinary a phenomenon, Inevertheless felt constrained to put out my hand to comfort him--when, as I had half anticipated, he immediately vanished. Two days later Ireceived a letter from Bath, and in a postscript I read that 'themongrel' (we never called it by any other name) 'had been run over andkilled by a motor, the accident occurring on All Hallow E'en, abouteleven o'clock. ' 'Of course, ' my sister wrote, 'you won't mind verymuch--it was so extremely ugly, and--well--we were only too glad it wasnone of the other dogs. ' But my sister was wrong, for notwithstandingits unsightly appearance and hopeless lack of breed, I had grown to likethat little black-and-tan more than any of my rare and choice pets. "

The following account, which concludes my notes on hauntings by dogphantasms, was sent me many years ago by a gentleman then living inVirginia, U. S. A. It runs thus:--

_The Strange Disappearance of Mr. Jeremiah Dance_

"Twenty pounds a year for a twelve-roomed house with large front lawn, good stabling and big kitchen gardens. That sounds all right, " Icommented. "But why so cheap?"

"Well, " the advertiser--Mr. Baldwin by name, a short, stout gentleman, with keen, glittering eyes--replied, "Well, you see, it's a bit of adistance from the town, and--er--most people prefer being nearer--likeneighbours and all that sort of thing. "

"Like neighbours!" I exclaimed. "I don't. I've just seen about enough ofthem. Drains all right?"

"Oh, yes! Perfect. "

"Water?"

"Excellent. "

"Everything in good condition?"

"First rate. "

"Loneliness the only thing people object to?"

"That is so. "

"Then I'll oblige you to send someone to show me over the house, for Ithink it is just the sort of place we want. You see, after being bottledup in a theatre all the afternoon and evening, one likes to get awaysomewhere where it is quiet--somewhere where one can lie in bed in themorning inhaling pure air and undisturbed by street traffic. "

"I understand, " Mr. Baldwin responded, "but--er--it is rather late now;wouldn't you prefer to see over it in the morning? Everything looks atits worst--its very worst--in the twilight. "

"Oh, I'll make allowances for the dusk, " I said. "You haven't got anyghosts stowed away there, have you?" And he went off into a roar oflaughter. 

"No, the house is not haunted, " Mr. Baldwin replied. "Not that it wouldmuch matter to you if it were, for I can see you don't believe inspooks. "

"Believe in spooks!" I cried. "Not much. I would as soon believe inpatent hair restorers. Let me see over it at once. "

"Very well, sir. I'll take you there myself, " Mr. Baldwin replied, somewhat reluctantly. "Here, Tim--fetch the keys of the Crow's Nest andtell Higgins to bring the trap round. "

The boy he addressed flew, and in a few minutes the sound of wheels andthe jingling of harness announced the vehicle was at the door. 

Ten minutes later and I and my escort were bowling merrily over theground in the direction of the Crow's Nest. It was early autumn, and thecool evening air, fragrant with the mellowness of the luscious Virginianpippin, was tinged also with the sadness inseparable from the demise ofa long and glorious summer. Evidences of decay and death wereeverywhere--in the brown fallen leaves of the oaks and elms; in the bareand denuded ditches. Here a giant mill-wheel, half immersed in a dark, still pool, stood idle and silent; there a hovel, but recently inhabitedby hop-pickers, was now tenantless, its glassless windows boarded over, and a wealth of dead and rotting vegetable matter in thick profusionover the tiny path and the single stone doorstep. 

"Is it always as quiet and deserted as this?" I asked of my companion, who continually cracked his whip as if he liked to hear thereverberations of its echoes. 

"Always, " was the reply, "and sometimes more so. You ain't used to thecountry?"

"Not very. I want to try it by way of a change. Are you well versed inthe cry of birds? What was that?"

We were fast approaching an exceedingly gloomy bit of the road wherethere were plantations on each side, and the trees united theirfantastically forked branches overhead. I thought I had never seen sodismal-looking a spot, and a sudden lowering of the temperature made medraw my overcoat tighter round me. 

"That--oh, a night bird of some sort, " Mr. Baldwin replied. "An uglysound, wasn't it? Beastly things, I can't imagine why they were created. Whoa--steady there, steady. "

The horse reared as he spoke, and taking a violent plunge forward, setoff at a wild gallop. A moment later, and I uttered an exclamation ofastonishment. Keeping pace with us, although apparently not moving atmore than an ordinary walking pace, was a man of medium height, dressedin a panama hat and albert coat. He had a thin, aquiline nose, a ratherpronounced chin, was clean-shaven, and had a startlingly whitecomplexion. By the side of him trotted two poodles, whose close-croppedskins showed out with remarkable perspicuity. 

"Who the deuce is he?" I asked, raising my voice to a shout on accountof the loud clatter made by the horse's hoofs and the wheels. 

"Who? what?" Mr. Baldwin shouted in return. 

"Why, the man walking along with us!"

"Man! I can see no man!" Mr. Baldwin growled. 

I looked at him curiously. It may, of course, have been due to theterrific speed we were going, to the difficulty of holding in the horse, but his cheeks were ashy pale, and his teeth chattered. 

"Do you mean to say, " I cried, "that you can see no figure walking on myside of the horse and actually keeping pace with it?"

"Of course I can't, " Mr. Baldwin snapped. "No more can you. It's anhallucination caused by the moonlight through the branches overhead. I've experienced it more than once. "

"Then why don't you have it now?" I queried. 

"Don't ask so many questions, please, " Mr. Baldwin shouted. "Don't yousee it is as much as I can do to hold the brute in? Heaven preserve us, we were nearly over that time. "

The trap rose high in the air as he spoke, and then dropped with such ajolt that I was nearly thrown off, and only saved myself by the skin ofmy teeth. A few yards more the spinney ceased, and we were away out inthe open country, plunging and galloping as if our very souls dependedon it. From all sides queer and fantastic shadows of objects, whichcertainly had no material counterparts in the moon-kissed sward of therich, ripe meadows, rose to greet us, and filled the lane with theirblack-and-white wavering, ethereal forms. The evening was one ofwonders for which I had no name--wonders associated with an iciness thatwas far from agreeable. I was not at all sure which I liked best--theblack, Stygian, tree-lined part of the road we had just left, or thewide ocean of brilliant moonbeams and streaked suggestions. 

The figures of the man and the dogs were equally vivid in each. Though Icould no longer doubt they were nothing mortal, they were altogetherunlike what I had imagined ghosts. Like the generality of people who arepsychic and who have never had an experience of the superphysical, myconception of a phantasm was a "thing" in white that made ridiculousgroanings and still more ridiculous clankings of chains. But here wassomething different, something that looked--save, perhaps, for theexcessive pallor of its cheeks--just like an ordinary man. I knew it wasnot a man, partly on account of its extraordinary performance--no man, even if running at full speed, could keep up with us like that; partlyon account of the unusual nature of the atmosphere--which was altogetherindefinable--it brought with it; and also because of my ownsensations--my intense horror which could not, I felt certain, have beengenerated by anything physical. 

I cogitated all this in my mind as I gazed at the figure, and in orderto make sure it was no hallucination, I shut first one eye and then theother, covering them alternately with the palm of my hand. The figure, however, was still there, still pacing along at our side with theregular swing, swing of the born walker. We kept on in this fashion tillwe arrived at a rusty iron gate leading, by means of a weed-coveredpath, to a low, two-storied white house. Here the figures left us, andas it seemed to me vanished at the foot of the garden wall. 

"This is the house, " Mr. Baldwin panted, pulling up with the greatestdifficulty, the horse evincing obvious antipathy to the iron gate. "Andthese are the keys. I'm afraid you must go in alone, as I dare not leavethe animal even for a minute. "

"Oh, all right, " I said. "I don't mind, now that the ghost, or whateveryou like to call it, has gone; I'm myself again. "

I jumped down, and threading my way along the bramble-entangled path, reached the front door. On opening it, I hesitated. The big, old-fashioned hall, with the great, frowning staircase leading to thegallery overhead, the many open doors showing nought but bare, desertedboards within, the grim passages, all moonlit and peopled only withqueer flickering shadows, suggested much that was terrifying. I fanciedI heard noises, noises like stealthy footsteps moving from room toroom, and tiptoeing along the passages and down the staircase. Once myheart almost stopped beating as I saw what, at first, I took to be awhite face peering at me from a far recess, but which I eventuallydiscovered was only a daub of whitewash; and, once again, my hair allbut rose on end, when one of the doors at which I was looking swung openand something came forth. Oh, the horror of that moment, as long as Ilive I shall never forget it. The something was a cat, just a ratherlean but otherwise material, black Tom; yet, in the state my nerves werethen, it created almost as much horror as if it had been a ghost. Ofcourse, it was the figure of the walking man that was the cause of allthis nervousness; had it not appeared to me I should doubtless haveentered the house with the utmost sang-froid, my mind set on nothing butthe condition of the walls, drains, etc. As it was, I held back, and itwas only after a severe mental struggle I summoned up the courage toleave the doorway and explore. Cautiously, very cautiously, with myheart in my mouth, I moved from room to room, halting every now and thenin dreadful suspense as the wind, soughing through across the open landbehind the house, blew down the chimneys and set the window-framesjarring. At the commencement of one of the passages I was immeasurablystartled to see a dark shape poke forward, and then spring hurriedlyback, and was so frightened that I dared not advance to see what it was. Moment after moment sped by, and I still stood there, the cold sweatoozing out all over me, and my eyes fixed in hideous expectation on theblank wall. What was it? What was hiding there? Would it spring out onme if I went to see? At last, urged on by a fascination I foundimpossible to resist, I crept down the passage, my heart throbbingpainfully and my whole being overcome with the most sicklyanticipations. As I drew nearer to the spot, it was as much as I coulddo to breathe, and my respiration came in quick jerks and gasps. Six, five, four, two feet and I was at the dreaded angle. Another step--takenafter the most prodigious battle--and--NOTHING sprang out on me. I wasconfronted only with a large piece of paper that had come loose from thewall, and flapped backwards and forwards each time the breeze fromwithout rustled past it. The reaction after such an agony of suspensewas so great, that I leaned against the wall, and laughed till I cried. A noise, from somewhere away in the basement, calling me to myself, Iwent downstairs and investigated. Again a shock--this time more sudden, more acute. Pressed against the window-pane of one of the frontreception-rooms was the face of a man--with corpse-like cheeks and pale, malevolent eyes. I was petrified--every drop of my blood was congealed. My tongue glued to my mouth, my arms hung helpless. I stood in thedoorway and stared at it. This went on for what seemed to me aneternity. Then came a revelation. The face was not that of a ghost butof Mr. Baldwin, who, getting alarmed at my long absence, had come tolook for me. 

We left the premises together. All the way back to the town Ithought--should I, or should I not, take the house? Seen as I had seenit, it was a ghoulish-looking place--as weird as a Paris catacomb--butthen daylight makes all the difference. Viewed in the sunshine, it wouldbe just like any other house--plain bricks and mortar. I liked thesituation; it was just far enough away from a town to enable me toescape all the smoke and traffic, and near enough to make shopping easy. The only obstacles were the shadows--the strange, enigmatical shadows Ihad seen in the hall and passages, and the figure of the walker. Dare Itake a house that knew such visitors? At first I said no, and then yes. Something, I could not tell what, urged me to say yes. I felt that avery grave issue was at stake--that a great wrong connected in somemanner with the mysterious figure awaited righting, and that the handof Fate pointed at me as the one and only person who could do it. 

"Are you sure the house isn't haunted?" I demanded, as we slowly rolledaway from the iron gate, and I leaned back in my seat to light my pipe. 

"Haunted!" Mr. Baldwin scoffed, "why, I thought you didn't believe inghosts--laughed at them. "

"No more I do believe in them, " I retorted, "but I have children, and weknow how imaginative children are. "

"I can't undertake to stop their imaginations. "

"No, but you can tell me whether anyone else has imagined anythingthere. Imagination is sometimes very infectious. "

"As far as I know, then, no; leastways, I have not heard tell of it. "

"Who was the last tenant?"

"Mr. Jeremiah Dance. "

"Why did he leave?"

"How do I know? Got tired of being there, I suppose. "

"How long was he there?"

"Nearly three years. "

"Where is he now?"

"That's more than I can say. Why do you wish to know?"

"Why!" I repeated. "Because it is more satisfactory to me to hear aboutthe house from someone who has lived in it. Has he left no address?"

"Not that I know of, and it's more than two years since he was here. "

"What! The house has been empty all that time?"

"Two years is not very long. Houses--even town houses--are frequentlyunoccupied for longer than that. I think you'll like it. "

I did not speak again till the drive was over, and we drew up outsidethe landlord's house. I then said, "Let me have an agreement. I've madeup my mind to take it. Three years and the option to stay on. "

That was just like me. Whatever I did, I did on the spur of the moment, a mode of procedure that often led me into difficulties. 

A month later and my wife, children, servants, and I were all ensconcedin the Crow's Nest. 

That was in the beginning of October. Well, the month passed by, andNovember was fairly in before anything remarkable happened. It then cameabout in this fashion. 

Jennie, my eldest child, a self-willed and rather bad-tempered girl ofabout twelve, evading the vigilance of her mother, who had forbidden herto go out as she had a cold, ran to the gate one evening to see if I wasanywhere in sight. Though barely five o'clock, the moon was high in thesky, and the shadows of the big trees had already commenced theirgambols along the roadside. 

Jennie clambered up the gate as children do, and peering over, suddenlyespied what she took to be me, striding towards the house, at a swingingpace, and followed by two poodles. 

"Poppa, " she cried, "how cute of you! Only to think of you bringing hometwo doggies! Oh, Poppa, naughty Poppa, what will mum say?" and climbingover into the lane at imminent danger to life and limb, she torefrantically towards the figure. To her dismay, however, it was not me, but a stranger with a horribly white face and big glassy eyes which heturned down at her and stared. She was so frightened that she fainted, and some ten minutes later I found her lying out there on the road. Fromthe description she gave me of the man and dogs, I felt quite certainthey were the figures I had seen; though I pretended the man was atramp, and assured her she would never see him again. A week passed, andI was beginning to hope nothing would happen, when one of the servantsgave notice to leave. 

At first she would not say why she did not like the house, but whenpressed made the following statement:--

"It's haunted, Mrs. B----. I can put up with mice and beetles, but notwith ghosts. I've had a queer sensation, as if water was falling down myspine, ever since I've been here, but never saw anything till lastnight. I was then in the kitchen getting ready to go to bed. Jane andEmma had already gone up, and I was preparing to follow them, when, allof a sudden, I heard footsteps, quick and heavy, cross the gravel andapproach the window. 

"'The boss, ' says I to myself; 'maybe he's forgot the key and can't getin at the front door. '

"Well, I went to the window and was about to throw it open, when I gotan awful shock. Pressed against the glass, looking in at me, was aface--not the boss's face, not the face of anyone living, but a horridwhite thing with a drooping mouth and wide-open, glassy eyes, that hadno more expression in them than a pig. As sure as I'm standing here, Mrs. B----, it was the face of a corpse--the face of a man that had diedno natural death. And by its side, standing on their hind-legs, andstaring in at me too were two dogs, both poodles--also no living things, but dead, horribly dead. Well, they stared at me, all three of them, forperhaps a minute, certainly not less, and then vanished. That's why I'mleaving, Mrs. B----. My heart was never overstrong. I always sufferedwith palpitations, and if I saw those heads again, it would kill me. "

After this my wife spoke to me seriously. 

"Jack, " she said, "are you sure there's nothing in it? I don't thinkMary would leave us without a good cause, and the description of whatshe saw tallies exactly with the figure that frightened Jennie. Jennieassures me she never said a word about it to the servants. They can'tboth have imagined it. "

I did not know what to say. My conscience pricked me. Without a doubt Iought to have told my wife of my own experience in the lane, and haveconsulted her before taking the house. Supposing she, or any of thechildren, should die of fright, it would be my fault. I should neverforgive myself. 

"You've something on your mind! What is it?" my wife demanded. 

I hesitated a moment or two and then told her. The next quarter of anhour was one I do not care to recollect, but when it was over, and shehad had her say, it was decided I should make enquiries and see if therewas any possible way of getting rid of the ghosts. With this end inview, I drove to the town, and after several fruitless efforts was atlength introduced to a Mr. Marsden, clerk of one of the banks, who, inreply to my questions, said:

"Well, Mr. B----, it's just this way. I do know something, only--in asmall place like this--one has to be so extra careful what one says. Some years ago a Mr. Jeremiah Dance occupied the Crow's Nest. He camehere apparently a total stranger, and though often in the town, was onlyseen in the company of one person--his landlord, Mr. Baldwin, withwhom--if local gossip is to be relied on--he appeared to be on terms ofthe greatest familiarity. Indeed, they were seldom apart, walked aboutthe lanes arm-in-arm, visited each other's houses on alternate evenings, called each other "Teddy" and "Leslie. " This state of things continuedfor nearly three years, and then people suddenly began to comment on thefact that Mr. Dance had gone, or at least was no longer visible. Anerrand-boy, returning back to town, late one evening, swore to beingpassed on the way by a trap containing Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Dance, whowere speaking in very loud voices--just as if they were having a violentaltercation. On reaching that part of the road where the trees arethickest overhead, the lad overtook them, or rather Mr. Baldwin, preparing to mount into the trap. Mr. Dance was nowhere to be seen. Andfrom that day to this nothing has ever been heard of him. As none of hisfriends or relations came forward to raise enquiries, and all his billswere paid--several of them by Mr. Baldwin--no one took the matter up. Mr. Baldwin pooh-poohed the errand-boy's story, and declared that, onthe night in question, he had been alone in an altogether different partof the county, and knew nothing whatever of Mr. Dance's movements, further than that he had recently announced his intention of leaving theCrow's Nest before the expiration of the three years' lease. He had notthe remotest idea where he was. He claimed the furniture in payment ofthe rent due to him. "

"Did the matter end there?" I asked. 

"In one sense of the word, yes--in another, no. Within a few weeks ofDance's disappearance rumours got afloat that his ghost had been seen onthe road, just where, you may say, you saw it. As a matter of fact, I'veseen it myself--and so have crowds of other people. "

"Has anyone ever spoken to it?"

"Yes--and it has vanished at once. I went there one night with thepurpose of laying it, but, on its appearing suddenly, I confess I was sostartled, that I not only forgot what I had rehearsed to say, but ranhome, without uttering as much as a word. "

"And what are your deductions of the case?"

"The same as everyone else's, " Mr. Marsden whispered, "only, likeeveryone else, I dare not say. "

"Had Mr. Dance any dogs?"

"Yes--two poodles, of which, much to Mr. Baldwin's annoyance (everyonenoticed this), he used to make the most ridiculous fuss. "

"Humph!" I observed. "That settles it! Ghosts! And to think I neverbelieved in them before! Well, I am going to try. "

"Try what?" Mr. Marsden said, a note of alarm in his voice. 

"Try laying it. I have an idea I may succeed. "

"I wish you luck, then. May I come with you?"

"Thanks, no!" I rejoined. "I would rather go there alone. "

I said this in a well-lighted room, with the hum of a crowdedthoroughfare in my ears. Twenty minutes later, when I had left all thatbehind, and was fast approaching the darkest part of an exceptionallydark road, I wished I had not. At the very spot, where I had previouslyseen the figures, I saw them now. They suddenly appeared by my side, andthough I was going at a great rate--for the horse took fright--they kepteasy pace with me. Twice I essayed to speak to them, but could notejaculate a syllable through sheer horror, and it was only by nervingmyself to the utmost, and forcing my eyes away from them, that I wasable to stick to my seat and hold on to the reins. On and on we dashed, until trees, road, sky, universe were obliterated in one blindingwhirlwind that got up my nostrils, choked my ears, and deadened me toeverything, save the all-terrorizing, instinctive knowledge, that thefigures by my side, were still there, stalking along as quietly andleisurely as if the horse had been going at a snail's pace. 

At last, to my intense relief--for never had the ride seemed longer--Ireached the Crow's Nest, and as I hurriedly dismounted from the trap, the figures shot past me and vanished. Once inside the house, and in thebosom of my family, where all was light and laughter, courage returned, and I upbraided myself bitterly for this cowardice. 

I confessed to my wife, and she insisted on accompanying me thefollowing afternoon, at twilight, to the spot where the ghost appearedto originate. To our intense dismay, we had not been there more thanthree or four minutes, before Dora, our youngest girl, a pretty, sweet-tempered child of eight, came running up to us with a telegram, which one of the servants had asked her to give us. My wife, snatchingit from her, and reading it, was about to scold her severely, when shesuddenly paused, and clutching hold of the child with one hand, pointedhysterically at something on one side of her with the other. I looked, and Dora looked, and we both saw, standing erect and staring at us, thespare figure of a man, with a ghastly white face and dull, lifelesseyes, clad in a panama hat, albert coat, and small, patent-leatherboots; beside him were two glossy--abnormally glossy--poodles. 

I tried to speak, but, as before, was too frightened to articulate asound, and my wife was in the same plight. With Dora, however, it wasotherwise, and she electrified us by going up to the figure, andexclaiming:

"Who are you? You must feel very ill to look so white. Tell me yourname. "

The figure made no reply, but gliding slowly forward, moved up to alarge, isolated oak, and pointing with the index finger of its left handat the trunk of the tree, seemingly sank into the earth and vanishedfrom view. 

For some seconds everyone was silent, and then my wife exclaimed:

"Jack, I shouldn't wonder if Dora hasn't been the means of solving themystery. Examine the tree closely. "

I did so. The tree was hollow, and inside it were three skeletons!

 * * * * *

Here followed an extract from a local paper:

"_Sensational Discovery in a Wood near Marytown_

"Whilst exploring in a wood, near Marytown, the other evening, a partyof the name of B---- discovered three skeletons--a human being and twodogs--in the trunk of an oak. From the remnant of clothes stilladhering to the human remains, the latter were proved to be those of anindividual known as Mr. Jeremiah Dance, whose strange disappearance fromthe Crow's Nest--the house he rented in the neighbourhood--some twoyears ago, was the occasion of much comment. On closer examination, extraordinary to relate, the remains have been proved to be those of aWOMAN; and from certain abrasions on the skull, there is little doubtshe met with a violent end. "

A second extract taken from the same paper runs thus:--

"_Suicide at Marytown_

"Late last night Percy Baldwin, the man who is under arrest on suspicionof having caused the death of the unknown woman, whose skeleton wasfound on Monday in the trunk of a tree, committed suicide by hanginghimself with his suspenders to the ceiling of his cell. Pinned on hiscoat was a slip of paper bearing these words: 'She was my wife--I lovedher. She took to drink--I parted from her. She became a dog-worshipper. I killed her--and her dogs. '"

_Phantasms of Living Dogs_

I could quote innumerable cases of people who have either seen or heardthe spirits of dead dogs. However, as space does not permit of this, Iproceed to the oft-raised question, "Do animals as well as peopleproject themselves?" My reply is--yes; according to my experience theydo. 

Some friends of mine have a big tabby that has frequently been seen intwo places at the same time; for example, it has been observed byseveral people to be sitting on a chair in the dining-room, and, at thesame moment, it has been seen by two or more other persons extended atfull length before the kitchen fire--the latter figure proving to be itsimmaterial, or what some designate its astral body, which vanishes theinstant an attempt is made to touch it. The only explanation of thisphenomenon seems to me to lie in projection--the cat possessing thefaculty of separating--in this instance, unconsciously--its spiritualfrom its physical body--the former travelling anywhere, regardless ofspace, time and material obstacles. I have often had experiences similarto this with a friend's dog. I have been seated in a room, eitherreading or writing, and on looking up have distinctly seen the dog lyingon the carpet in front of me. A few minutes later a scraping at the dooror window--both of which have been shut all the while--and on my risingto see what was there, I have discovered the dog outside! Had I not beenso positive I had seen the dog on the ground in front of me, I mighthave thought it was an hallucination; but hallucinations are never sovivid nor so lasting--moreover, other people have had similarexperiences with the same dog. And why not? Dogs, on the whole, areevery whit as reasoning and reflective as the bulk of human beings! Andhow much nobler! Compare, for a moment, the dogs you know--no matterwhether mastiffs, retrievers, dachshunds, poodles, or even Pekinese, with your acquaintances--with the people you see everywhere aroundyou--false, greedy, spiteful, scandal-loving women, money-grubbingattorneys, lying, swindling tradesmen, vulgar parvenus, finicky curates, brutal roughs, spoilt, cruel children, hypocrites of both sexes--comparethem carefully--and the comparison is entirely in favour of the dog!And if the creating Power (or Powers) has favoured these wholly selfishand degenerate human beings with spirits, and has conferred on certainof them the faculty of projecting those spirits, can one imagine, forone moment, that similar gifts have been denied to dogs--their superiorsin every respect? Pshaw! Out upon it! To think so would mean to thinkthe unthinkable, to attribute to God qualities of partiality, injusticeand whimsicality, which would render Him little, if anything, betterthan a James the Second of England, or a Louis the Fifteenth of France. 

Besides, from my own experience, and the experiences of those with whomI have been brought in contact, I can safely affirm that there arephantasms (and therefore spirits) of both living and dead dogs in justthe same proportion as there are phantasms (and therefore spirits) ofboth living and dead human beings. 

_Psychic Properties of Dogs_

Some, not all, dogs--like cats--possess the psychic property of scentingthe advent of death, and they indicate their fear of it by the mostdismal howling. In my opinion there is very little doubt that dogsactually see some kind of phantasm that, knowing when death is about totake place, visits the house of the doomed and stands beside his, orher, couch. I have had this phantasm described to me, by those whodeclare they have seen it, as a very tall, hooded figure, clad in adark, loose, flowing costume--its face never discernible. It would, ofcourse, be foolish to say that a dog howling in a house is invariablythe sign of death; there are many other and obvious causes which producesomething of a similar effect; but I think one may be pretty wellassured that, when the howling is accompanied by unmistakable signs ofterror, then someone, either in the house at the time, or connectedwith someone in the house, will shortly die. 

_Dogs in Haunted Houses_

When I investigate a haunted house, I generally take a dog with me, because experience has taught me that a dog seldom fails to give notice, in some way or another--either by whining, or growling, or crouchingshivering at one's feet, or springing on one's lap and trying to buryits head in one's coat--of the proximity of a ghost. I had a dog withme, when ghost-hunting, not so very long ago, in a well-known hauntedhouse in Gloucestershire. The dog--my only companion--and I sat on thestaircase leading from the hall to the first floor. Just about twoo'clock the dog gave a loud growl. I put my hand out and found it wasshivering from head to foot. Almost directly afterwards I heard the loudclatter of fire-irons from somewhere away in the basement, a doorbanged, and then something, or someone, began to ascend the stairs. Up, up, up came the footsteps, until I could see--first of all a bluishlight, then the top of a head, then a face, white and luminous, staringup at me. A few more steps, and the whole thing was disclosed to view. It was the figure of a girl of about sixteen, with a shock head of redhair, on which was stuck, all awry, a dirty little, old-fashionedservant's cap. She was clad in a cotton dress, soiled and bedraggled, and had on her feet a pair of elastic-sided boots, that looked as ifthey would fall to pieces each step she took. But it was her face thatriveted my attention most. It was startlingly white and full of anexpression of the most hopeless misery. The eyes, wide open and glassy, were turned direct on mine. I was too appalled either to stir or utter asound. The phantasm came right up to where I stood, paused for a second, and then slowly went on; up, up, up, until a sudden bend in thestaircase hid it from view. For some seconds there was a continuation ofthe footsteps, then there came a loud splash from somewhere outside andbelow--and then silence--sepulchral and omnipotent. 

I did not wait to see if anything further would happen. I fled, andDick, my dog friend, who was apparently even more frightened than I, fled with me. We arrived home--panic-stricken. 

Over and over again, on similar occasions, I have had a dog with me, andthe same thing has occurred--the dog has made some noise indicative ofgreat fear, remaining in a state of stupor during the actual presence ofthe apparition. 

_Psychic Propensities of Dogs compared with those of Cats_

Though dogs are, perhaps, rather more alarmed at the Unknown than cats, I do not think they have a keener sense of its proximity. Still, for thevery reason that they show greater--more unmistakable--indications offear, they make surer psychic barometers. The psychic faculty of scentin dogs would seem to be more limited than that in cats; for, whereascats can not only detect the advent and presence of pleasant andunpleasant phantoms by their smells, few dogs can do more than detectthe approach of death. Dogs make friends nearly, if not quite, asreadily with cruel and brutal people as with kind ones, simply becausethey cannot, so easily as cats, distinguish by their scent theunpleasant types of spirits cruel and brutal people attract; in allprobability, they are not even aware of the presence of such spirits. 

It would seem, on the face of it, that since dogs are, on the whole, ofa gentler disposition than cats, that is to say, not quite so cruel andsavage, the phantasms of dogs would be less likely to be earth-boundthan those of cats; but, then, one must take into consideration theother qualities of the two animals, and when these are put in thebalance, one may find little to choose--morally--between the cat andthe dog. Anyhow, after making allowance for the fact that many more catsdie unnatural deaths than dogs, there would seem to be small numericaldifference in their hauntings--cases of dog ghosts appearing to be justas common as cases of cat ghosts. 

Apropos of phantom dogs, my friend Dr. G. West writes to me thus:--

"Of the older English Universities many stories are told of bizarrehappenings, --of duels, raggings, suicides and such-like--in olden times;but of K. , venerable, illustrious K. Of Ireland, few and far between arethe accounts of similar occurrences. This is one, however, and it dealswith the phantom of a dog:--

"One evening, towards the end of the eighteenth century, John Kelly, aDean of the College (extremely unpopular on account of his supposedharsh treatment of some of the undergraduates), was about to commencehis supper, when he heard a low whine, and looking down, saw a largeyellow dog cross the floor in front of him, and disappear immediatelyunder the full-length portrait that hung over the antique chimney-piece. Something prompting him, he glanced at the picture. The eyes that lookedinto his blinked. 

"'It must be the result of an overtaxed brain, ' he said to himself. 'Those rascally undergraduates have got on my nerves. '

"He shut his eyes; and re-opening them, stared hard at the portrait. Itwas not a delusion. The eyes that gazed back at him were alive--alivewith the spirit of mockery; they smiled, laughed, jeered; and, as theydid so, the knowledge of his surroundings was brought forcibly home tohim. The room in which he was seated was situated at the end of a long, cheerless, stone passage in the western wing of the College. Away fromall the other rooms of the building, it was absolutely isolated; and hadlong borne the reputation of being haunted by a dog, which was said toappear only before some catastrophe. The Dean had hitherto committed thestory to the category of fables. But now, --now, as he sat all alone inthat big silent room, lit only with the reddish rays of a fast-settingAugust sun, and stared into the gleaming eyes before him--he was obligedto admit the extreme probability of spookdom. Never before had theCollege seemed so quiet. Not a sound--not even the creaking of a boardor the far-away laugh of a student, common enough noises on mostnights--fell on his ears. The hush was omnipotent, depressing, unnerving; he could only associate it with the supernatural. Though hewas too fascinated to remove his gaze from the thing before him, hecould feel the room fill with shadows, and feel them steal through thehalf-open windows, and, uniting with those already in the corners, glidenoiselessly and surreptitiously towards him. He felt, too, that he wasunder the surveillance of countless invisible visages, all scanning himcuriously, and delighted beyond measure at the sight of his terror. 

"The moments passed in a breathless state of tension. He stared at theeyes, and the eyes stared back at him. Once he endeavoured to rise, buta dead weight seemed to fall on his shoulders and hold him back; andtwice, when he tried to speak--to make some sound, no matter what, tobreak the appalling silence--his throat closed as if under the pressureof cruel, relentless fingers. 

"But the _Ultima Thule_ of his emotions had yet to come. There was aslight stir behind the canvas, a thud, a hollow groan that echoed andre-echoed throughout the room like the muffled clap of distant thunder, and the eyes suddenly underwent a metamorphosis--they grew glazed andglassy like the eyes of a dead person. A cold shudder ran through theDean, his hair stood on end, his blood turned to ice. Again he essayedto move, to summon help; again he failed. The strain on his nervesproved more than he could bear. A sudden sensation of nausea surgedthrough him; his eyes swam; his brain reeled; there was a loud buzzingin his ears; he knew no more. Some moments later one of the Collegeservants arrived at the door with a bundle of letters, and on receivingno reply to his raps, entered. 

"'Good heavens! What's the matter?' he cried, gazing at the figure ofthe Dean, lolling head downward on the table. 'Merciful Prudence, thegentleman is dead! No, he ain't--some of the young gents will be sorryenough for that--he's fainted. '

"The good fellow poured out some water in a tumbler, and was proceedingto sprinkle the Dean's face with it, when, a noise attracting hisattention, he peered round at the picture. It was bulging from the wall;it was falling! And, Good God, what was that that was falling withit--that huge black object? A coffin? No, not a coffin, but a corpse!The servant ran to the door shrieking, and, in less than a minute, passage and room were filled to overflowing with a scared crowd ofenquiring officials and undergraduates. 

"'What has happened? What's the matter with the Dean? Has he had a fit, or what? And the picture? And--Anderson? Anderson lying on the floor!Hurt? No, not hurt, dead! Murdered!'

"In an instant there was silence, and the white-faced throng closed inon one another as if for protection. In front of them, beside the fallenpicture, lay the body of the most gay and popular student in theCollege--Bob Anderson--Bob Anderson with a stream of blood running froma deep incision in his back made with some sharp instrument, that hadbeen driven home with tremendous force. He had, without doubt, beenmurdered. But by whom? Then one of the undergraduates, a bright, boyish, fair-haired giant, named O'Farroll, immensely popular both on account ofhis prowess in sport and an untold number of the most audaciousescapades, spoke out:

"'I saw Anderson, about an hour ago, crossing the quadrangle. I askedhim where he was going, and he replied, "To old Kelly. I intend payinghim out for 'gating' me last week. " I enquired how, and he replied:"I've a glorious plan. You know that portrait stuck over hismantel-shelf? Well! In poking about the room the other day, when the oldman was out, I had a great find. Directly behind the picture is the doorof a secret room, so neatly covered by the designs on the wall that itis not discernible. It was only by the merest fluke I discovered it. Iwas taking down the picture with the idea of "touching up" the face, when my knuckles bumped against the panels of the wall, touched aspring, and the door flew open, revealing an apartment about six byeight feet large. I at once explored it, and found it could be enteredby the chimney. An idea then struck me--I would play a trick upon theDean by hiding in this secret chamber one evening while he was feeding, cutting out the eyes of the portrait, and peering through the cavitiesat him. And this, ' O'Farroll continued, pointing at the fallen picture, 'is what he evidently did after I left him. You can see the eyes of theportrait have been removed. '

"'That is so, shure, ' one of the other undergraduates, Mick Maguire--sixfeet two in his socks, every inch--exclaimed. 'And, what is more, I knewall about it. Anderson told me yesterday what he was going to do, and Iwanted to join him, but he said I would never get up the chimney, Iwould stick there. And, bedad, I think he was right. '

"At this remark, despite the grimness of the moment, several of thosepresent laughed. 

"'Come, come, gentlemen!' one of the officials cried, 'this is no timefor levity. Mr. Anderson has been murdered, and the question is--bywhom?'

"'Then, if that's the only thing that is troubling you, ' O'Farroll putin, 'I fancy the solution is right here at hand, ' and he lookedsignificantly at the Dean. 

"An ominous silence followed, during which all eyes were fixed on JohnKelly, some anxiously, some merely enquiringly, but not a few angrily, for Kelly, as I have said before, had made himself particularlyobnoxious just then by his behaviour to the rowdier students; and, ashas ever been the case at K. , these formed no small portion of thecommunity. 

"The Dean hardly seemed to realize the situation. The dignity of officeblinded him to danger. 

"'What do you mean?' he spluttered. 'I know nothing of what happened toMr. Anderson! Really, really, O'Farroll, your presumption ispreposterous. '

"'There was no one else in here but you and he, Mr. Kelly, ' O'Farrollretorted coolly. 'It's only natural we should think you know somethingof what happened!'

"On the arrival of the police who had been sent for somewhatreluctantly--for the prestige of the College at that date was very dearto all--the premises were thoroughly searched, and, no other culpritbeing found, first of all Dean Kelly was apprehended, and then, to makea good job of it, his accuser, Denis O'Farroll. 

"All the College was agog with excitement. No one could believe the Deanwas a murderer; and it was just as inconceivable to think O'Farroll hadcommitted the deed. And yet if neither of them had killed Anderson, whoin God's name had killed him?

"The night succeeding the affair, whilst the Dean and O'Farroll werestill in jail awaiting the inquest, a party of undergraduates werediscussing the situation in Maguire's rooms, when the door burst open, and into their midst, almost breathless with excitement, came a measly, bespectacled youth named Brady--Patrick Brady. 

"'I'm awfully sorry to disturb you fellows, ' he stammered, 'but therehave been odd noises just outside my room all the evening, and I've justseen a queer kind of dog, that vanished, God knows how. I--I--well, youwill call me an ass, of course, but I'm afraid to stay there alone, andthat's the long and short of it. '

"'Begorra!' Maguire exclaimed, 'it can't be poor Bob's ghost already!What sort of noises were they?'

"'Noises like laughter!' Brady said. 'Loud peals of horrid laughter. '

"'Someone trying to frighten you, ' one of the undergrads observed, 'andfaith, he succeeded. You are twice as white as any sheet. '

"'It's ill-timed mirth, anyhow, ' someone else put in, 'with Anderson'sdead body upstairs. I'm for making an example of the blackguard. '

"'And I, '--'And I, ' the others echoed. 

"A general movement followed, and headed by Brady the procession movedto the north wing of the College. At that time, be it remembered, alarge proportion of K. Undergrads were in residence--now it isotherwise. On reaching Brady's rooms the crowd halted outside andlistened. For some time there was silence; and then a laugh--low, monotonous, unmirthful, metallic--coming as it were from some adjacentchamber, and so unnatural, so abhorring, that it held everyonespell-bound. It died away in the reverberations of the stone corridor, its echoes seeming to awake a chorus of other laughs hardly lessdreadful. Again there was silence, no one daring to express histhoughts. Then, as if by common consent, all turned precipitately intoBrady's room and slammed the door. 

"'That is what I heard, ' Brady said. 'What does it mean?'

"'Is it the meaning of it you're wanting to know?' Maguire observed. 'Sure 'tis the devil, for no one but him could make such a noise. I'venever heard the like of it before. Who has the rooms on either side ofyou?'

"'These?' Brady replied, pointing to the right. 'No one. They werevacated at Easter, and are being repainted and decorated. These on theleft--Dobson, who is, I happen to know, at the present moment in Co. Mayo. He won't be back till next week. '

"'Then we can search them, ' a student called Hartnoll intervened. 

"'To be sure we can, ' Brady replied, 'but I doubt if you'll findanyone. '

"A search was made, and Brady proved to be correct. Not a vestige ofanyone was discovered. 

"Much mystified, Maguire's party was preparing to depart, when Hartnoll, who had taken the keenest interest in the proceedings, suddenly said, 'Who has the rooms over yours, Brady? Sound, as you know, plays curioustricks, and it is just as likely as not that laugh came from above. '

"'Oh, I don't think so, ' Brady answered. 'The man overhead is Belton, avery decent sort. He is going in for his finals shortly, and is sweatingfearfully hard at present. We might certainly ask him if he heard thenoise. '

"The students agreeing, Brady led the way upstairs, and in response totheir summons Belton hastily opened the door. He was a typicalbook-worm--thin, pale and rather emaciated, but with a pleasantexpression in his eyes and mouth, that all felt was assuring. 

"'Hulloa!' he exclaimed, 'it isn't often I'm favoured with a surpriseparty of this sort. Come in'; and he pressed them so hard that they feltconstrained to accept his hospitality, and before long were all seatedround the fire, quaffing whisky and puffing cigars as if they meant tomake a night of it. At two o'clock someone suggested that it was hightime they thought of bed, and Belton rose with them. 

"'Before we turn in, let's have another search, ' he said. 'It's strangeyou should all hear that noise except me--unless, of course, it camefrom below. '

"'But there's nothing under me, ' Brady remarked, 'except the DiningHall. '

"'Then let's search that, ' Belton went on. 'We ought to make a thoroughjob of it now we've once begun. Besides, I don't relish being in thislonely place with that laugh "knocking" around, any more than you do. '

"He went with them, and they completely overhauled the groundfloor--hall, dining-room, studies, passages, vestibules, everywhere thatwas not barred to them; but they were no wiser at the end of theirsearch than at the beginning; there was not the slightest clue as to theauthor of the laugh. 

 * * * * *

"On the morrow there was a fresh shock. One of the College servants, onentering Mr. Maguire's rooms to call him, found that gentleman halfdressed and lying on the floor. 

"Terrified beyond measure, the servant bent over him and discovered hewas dead, obviously stabbed with the same weapon that had put an end toBob Anderson. 

"The factotum at once gave the alarm. Everyone in the College cametrooping to the room, and for the second time within three days ageneral hue and cry was raised. All, again, to no purpose--the murdererhad left no traces as to his identity. However, one thing at least wasestablished, and that was the innocence of Dean Kelly and DenisO'Farroll. They were both liberated. 

"Then Hartnoll, who seems to have been a regular Sherlock Holmes, got towork in grim earnest. On the floor in Maguire's room he picked up adiminutive silver-topped pencil, which had rolled under the fender andhad so escaped observation. He asked several of Maguire's most intimatefriends if they remembered seeing the pencil-case in Maguire'spossession, but they shook their heads. He enquired in other quarters, too, but with no better result, and finally resolved to ask Brady, whobelonged to quite a different set from himself. With that object in viewhe set off to Brady's room shortly after supper. As there was noresponse to his raps, he at length opened Brady's door. In front of thehearth in a big easy chair sat a figure. 

"'Brady, by all that's holy, ' Hartnoll exclaimed. 'By Jupiter, thebeggar's asleep. That's what comes of swotting too hard! Brady!'

"Approaching the chair he called again, 'Brady!' and getting no reply, patted the figure gently on the back. 

"'Be jabbers, you sleep soundly, old fellow!' he said. 'How about that!'and he shook him heartily by the shoulder. The instant he let go thefigure collapsed. In order to get a closer view Hartnoll then struck alight with the tinder box. 

"The flickering of the candle flame fell on Brady's face. It waswhite--ghastly white; there was no animation in it; the jaw dropped. 

"With a cry of horror Hartnoll sprang back, and as he did so a greatyellow dog dashed across the hearth in front of him, whilst fromsomewhere close at hand came a laugh--long, low and satirical. A coldterror gripped Hartnoll, and for a moment or so he was on the verge offainting. However, hearing voices in the quadrangle, he pulled himselftogether, approached the window on tiptoe, and, peering through theglass, perceived to his utmost joy two of his friends directly beneathhim. 'I say, you fellows, ' he called in low tones, 'come up herequickly--Brady's rooms. I've seen the phantom dog. There's been anothertragedy, and the murderer is close at hand. Come quietly and we maycatch him!'

"He then retraced his steps to the centre of the room and listened. Again there came the laugh--subtle, protracted, hellish--and it seemedto him as if it must originate in the room overhead. 

"A noise in the direction of the hearth made him look round. Some looseplaster had fallen, and whilst he still gazed, more fell. The truth ofthe whole thing then dawned on him. The murderer was in the chimney. 

"Hartnoll was a creature of impulse. In the excitement of the moment heforgot danger, and the dastardly nature of the crimes gave him more thanhis usual amount of courage. He rushed at the chimney, and, regardlessof soot and darkness, began an impromptu ascent. 

"Half-way up something struck him--once, twice, thrice, --sharply, andthere was a soft, malevolent chuckle. 

"At this juncture the two undergraduates arrived in Brady's room. No onewas there--nothing save a hunched-up figure on a chair. 

"'Hartnoll!' they whispered. 'Hartnoll!' No reply. They calledagain--still no reply. Again and again they called, until at length, through sheer fatigue, they desisted, and seized with a sudden panicfled precipitately downstairs and out into the quadrangle. 

"Once more the alarm was given, and once again the whole College, wildwith excitement, hastened to the scene of the outrage. 

"This time there was a double mystery. Brady had been murdered--Hartnollhad disappeared. The police were summoned and the whole buildingransacked; but no one thought of the chimney till the search was nearlyover, and half the throng--overcome with fatigue--had retired. O'Farrollwas the discoverer. Happening to glance at the hearth he saw somethingdrop. 

"'For Heaven's sake, you fellows!' he shouted. 'Look! Blood! You maytake it from me there's a corpse in the chimney. '

"A dozen candles invaded the hearth, and a herculean policeman undertookthe ascent. In breathless silence the crowd below waited, and, after afew seconds of intense suspense, two helpless legs appeared on the hob. Bit by bit, the rest of the body followed, until, at length, the wholefigure of Hartnoll, black, bleeding, bloodstained, was disclosed toview. 

"At first it was thought that he was dead; but the surgeon who hadhurried to the scene pronouncing him still alive, there arose atremendous cheer. The murderer had at all events been foiled this time. 

"'Begorrah!' cried O'Farroll, 'Hartnoll was after the murderer when hewas struck, and shure I'll be after him the same way myself. ' And beforeanyone could prevent him O'Farroll was up the chimney. Up, up, up, untilhe found himself going down, down, down; and then--bedad--he steppedright out on to the floor of Belton's room. 

"'Hulloa!' the latter exclaimed, looking not a bit disconcerted, 'that'sa curious mode of making your entrance into my domain! Why didn't youcome by the door?'

"'Because, ' O'Farroll replied, pointing to a patch of soot near thewashstand, 'I followed you. Own up, Dicky Belton. You're theculprit--you did for them all. ' And Belton laughed. 

 * * * * *

"Yes, it was true; overwork had turned Belton's brain, and he wassubsequently sent to a Criminal Lunatic Asylum for the rest of his life. But there were moments when he was comparatively sane, and in theseinterims he confessed everything. Anderson had told him that he wasgoing to hoax the Dean, and filled with indignation at the idea of sucha trick being played on a College official--for he, Belton, was a greatfavourite with the 'Beaks'--he had accompanied Anderson on the plea ofhelping him, intending, in reality, to frustrate him. It was not till hewas in the chimney, crouching behind Anderson, that the thought ofkilling his fellow-students had entered his mind. The heat of hishiding-place, acting on an already overworked brain, hastened on themadness; and his fingers closing on a clasped knife in one of hispockets, inspired him with a desire to kill. 

"The work once begun, he had argued with himself, would have to becontinued, and he had then and there decided that all unrulyundergraduates should be exterminated. 

"With what measure of success this determination was carried out neednot be recapitulated here; but with regard to the phantom dog a fewwords may be added. Since it appeared immediately before the committalof each of the three murders I have just recorded (it was seen by Mr. Kelly before the death of Bob Anderson; by Brady, before the murder ofMaguire; and by Hartnoll, before Brady was murdered), I think there canneither be doubts as to its existence nor as to the purport of itsvisits. 

"Moreover, its latest appearance in the University, reported to me quiterecently, preceded a serious outbreak of fire. "

_National Ghosts in the form of Dogs_

One of the most notorious dog ghosts is the Gwyllgi in Wales. Thisapparition, which is of a particularly terrifying appearance, chieflyhaunts the lane leading from Mousiad to Lisworney Crossways. 

Belief in a spectral dog, however, is common all over the British Isles. The apparition does not belong to any one breed, but appears equallyoften as a hound, setter, terrier, shepherd dog, Newfoundland andretriever. In Lancashire it is called the "Trash" or "Striker"; Trash, because the sound of its tread is thought to resemble a person walkingalong a miry, sloppy road, with heavy shoes; Striker, because it is saidto utter a curious screech which may be taken as a warning of theapproaching death of some relative or friend. When followed the phantomretreats, glaring at its pursuer, and either sinks into the ground witha harrowing shriek, or disappears in some equally mysterious manner. 

In Norfolk and Cambridgeshire this spectre is named the "Shuck, " thelocal name for Shag--and is reported to haunt churchyards and otherdreary spots. 

In the parish of Overstrand, there used to be a lane called "Shuck'sLane, " named after this phantasm. 

Round about Leeds the spectre dog is called "Padfoot, " and is about thesize of a donkey, with shaggy hair and large eyes like saucers. Myfriend Mr. Barker tells me there was, at one time, a ghost in theHebrides called the Lamper, which was like a very big, white dog with notail. It ran sometimes straight ahead, but usually in circles, and tosee it was a prognostication of death. Mr. Barker, going home by thesea-coast, saw the Lamper in the hedge. He struck at it, and his stickpassed right through it. The Lamper rushed away, whining and howlingalternately, and disappeared. Mr. Barker was so scared that he ran allthe way home. On the morrow, he learned of his father's death. 

In Northumberland, Durham, and various parts of Yorkshire, theghost-dog, which is firmly believed in, is styled Barguest, Bahrgeist, or Boguest; whilst in Lancashire it is termed the Boggart. Its mostcommon form in these counties is a large, black dog with flaming eyes;and its appearance is a certain prognostication of death. 

According to tradition there was once a "Barguest" in a glen betweenDarlington and Houghton, near Throstlenest. Another haunted a piece ofwaste land above a spring called the Oxwells, between Wreghorn andHeadingley Hill, near Leeds. On the death of any person of localimportance in the neighbourhood the creature would come forth, followedby all the other dogs, barking and howling. (Henderson refers to thesehauntings in his _Folk-lore of Northern Counties_. )

Another form of this animal spectre is the Capelthwaite, which, according to common report, had the power of appearing in the form ofany quadruped, but usually chose that of a large, black dog. 

"_The Mauthe Doog_"

One of the most famous canine apparitions is that of the "Mauthe Doog, "once said--and, I believe, still said--to haunt Peel Castle, Isle ofMan. 

Its favourite place, so I am told, was the guard-chamber, where it usedto crouch by the fireside. The sentry, so the story runs, got soaccustomed to seeing it, that they ceased to be afraid; but, as theybelieved it to be of evil origin, waiting for an opportunity to seizethem, they were very particular what they said or did, and refrainedfrom swearing in its presence. The Mauthe Doog used to come out andreturn by the passage through the church, by which the sentry on dutyhad to go to deliver the keys every night to the captain. These men, however, were far too nervous to go alone, and were invariablyaccompanied by one of the retainers. On one occasion, however, one ofthe sentinels, in a fit of drunken bravado, swore he was afraid ofnothing, and insisted on going alone. His comrades tried to dissuadehim, upon which he became abusive, cursed the Mauthe Doog, and said hewould d----d well strike it. An hour later, he returned absolutely madwith horror, and speechless; nor could he even make signs, whereby hisfriends could understand what had happened to him. He died soonafter--his features distorted--in violent agony. After this theapparition was never seen again. 

As to what class of spirits the spectre dog belongs, that is impossibleto say. At the most we can only surmise, and I should think the chancesof its being the actual phantasm of some dead dog or an elemental areabout equal. It is probably sometimes the one and sometimes the other;and its origin is very possibly like that of the Banshee. 

_Spectral Hounds_

As with the spectre dog, so with packs of hounds, stories of them comefrom all parts of the country. 

Gervase of Tilbury states that as long ago as the thirteenth century apack of spectral hounds was frequently witnessed, on nights when themoon was full, scampering across forest and downs. In the twelfthcentury the pack was known as "the Herlething" and haunted, chiefly, thebanks of the Wye. 

Roby, in his _Traditions of Lancashire_; Hardwick, in his _Traditions, Superstitions, and Folk-lore_; Homerton, in his _Isles of Loch Awe_;Wirt Sykes, in his _British Goblins_; Sir Walter Scott, and others, allrefer to them. In the North of England they are known as "Gabriel'sHounds"; in Devon as the "Wisk, " "Yesk, " "Yeth, " or "Heath Hounds"; inWales as the "Cwn Annwn" or "Cyn y Wybr"; in Cornwall as the "Devil andhis Dandy-Dogs"; and in the neighbourhood of Leeds as the "GabbleRetchets. " They are common all over the Continent. In appearance theyare usually described as monstrous, human-headed dogs, black, with fieryeyes and teeth, and sprinkled all over with blood. They make a greathowling noise, which is very shrill and mournful, and appear to be inhot pursuit of some unseen quarry. When they approach a house, it may betaken as a certain sign someone in that house will die very shortly. 

According to Mr. Roby, a spectre huntsman known by the name GabrielRatchets, accompanied by a pack of phantom hounds, is said to hunt amilk-white doe round the Eagle's Crag in the Vale of Todmorden every AllHallows Eve. 

These hounds were also seen in Norfolk. A famous ecclesiast, when on hisway to the coast, was forced to spend the night in the King's Lynn Inn, owing to a violent snowstorm. Retiring to bed directly after supper, hetried to forget his disappointment in reading a volume of sermons he hadbought at a second-hand shop in Bury St. Edmunds. 

"I think I can use this one, " he said to himself. "It will do nicely forthe people of Aylesham. They are so steeped in hypocrisy that nothingshort of violent denunciation will bring it home to them. This I think, however, will pierce even their skins. "

A sudden noise made him spring up. 

"Hounds!" he exclaimed. "And at this time of night! Good heavens!"

He flew to the window, and there, careering through the yard, baying asthey ran, were, at least, fifty luminous, white hounds. Instead ofleaping the stone wall, they passed right through it, and the bishopthen realized that they were Gabriel Hounds. The following evening hereceived tidings of his son's--his only son's--death. 

I have heard that the "Yeth Hounds" were seen, not so long ago, in aparish in Yorkshire by an old poacher called Barnes. Barnes was walkingin the fields one night, when he suddenly heard the baying of thehounds, and the hoarse shouts of the huntsman. The next moment the wholepack hove in view and tore past him so close that he received a cut from"the whip" on his leg. To his surprise, however, it did not hurt him, itonly felt icy cold. He then knew that he had seen the "Yeth Hounds. "

_A Spectral Pack of Hounds in Russia_

A gentleman of the name of Rappaport whom I once met in Southampton toldme of an experience he had once had with a spectral pack of hounds onthe slope of the Urals. "It was about half-past eleven one winter'snight, " he said, "and I was driving through a thick forest, when mycoachman suddenly leaned back in his seat and called out, 'Do you hearthat?' I listened, and from afar came a plaintive, whining sound. 'It'snot Volki, is it?' I asked. 'I'm afraid so, master, ' the coachmanreplied, 'they're coming on after us. '

"'But they are some way off still!' I said. 

"'That is so, ' he responded, 'but wolves run quick, and our horses aretired. If we can reach the lake first we shall be all right, but shouldthey overtake us before we get there--' and he shrugged his greatshoulders suggestively. 'Not another word, ' I cried. 'Drive--drive as if'twere the devil himself. I have my rifle ready, and will shoot thefirst wolf that shows itself. '

"'Very good, master, ' he answered. 'I will do everything that can bedone to save your skin and mine. ' He cracked his whip, and away flew thehorses at a breakneck speed. But fast as they went, they could notoutstrip the sound of the howling, which gradually drew nearer andnearer, until around the curve we had just passed shot into view a hugegaunt wolf. I raised my rifle and fired. The beast fell, but anotherinstantly took its place, and then another and another, till the wholepack came into sight, and close behind us was an ocean of white, tossing, foam-flecked jaws and red gleaming eyes. 

"I emptied my rifle into them as fast as I could pull the trigger, butit only checked them momentarily. A few snaps, and of their woundedbrethren there was nothing left but a pile of glistening bones. Then, hie away, and they were once again in red-hot pursuit. At last our paceslackened, and still I could see no signs of the lake. A great greyshape, followed by others, then rushed by us and tried to reach thehorses' flanks with their sharp, gleaming teeth. A few more seconds, and I knew we should be both fighting, back to back, the last greatfight for existence. Indeed I had ceased firing, and was alreadybeginning to strike out furiously with the butt end of my rifle, when anew sound arrested my attention. The baying of dogs! 'Dogs!' I screamed, 'Dogs, Ivan!' (that was the coachman's name) 'Dogs!' and, in my mad joy, I brained two wolves in as many blows. The next moment a large pack ofenormous white hounds came racing down on us. The wolves did not wait todispute the field; they all turned tail and, with loud howls of terror, rushed off in the direction they had come. On came the hounds--morebeautiful dogs I had never seen; as they swept by, more than one brushedagainst my knees, though I could feel nothing save intense cold. Whenthey were about twenty yards ahead of us, they slowed down, andmaintained that distance in front of us till we arrived on the shores ofthe lake. There they halted, and throwing back their heads, bayed as ifin farewell, and suddenly vanished. We knew then that they were noearthly hounds, but spirit ones, sent by a merciful Providence to saveus from a cruel death. "

CHAPTER III

HORSES AND THE UNKNOWN

As in my chapters on cats and dogs, I will preface this chapter onhorses with instances of alleged haunted localities. 

I take my first case from Mr. W. T. Stead's _Real Ghost Stories_, published in 1891. It is called "A Weird Story from the Indian Hills, "and Mr. Stead preludes it thus: The "tale is told by General Barter, C. B. , of Careystown, Whitegate, Co. Cork. At the time he witnessed thespectral cavalcade he was living on the hills in India, and when oneevening he was returning home he caught sight of a rider and attendantscoming towards him. The rest of the story, given in the General's ownwords, is as follows:--

"At this time the two dogs came, and, crouching at my side, gave low, frightened whimpers. The moon was at the full--a tropical moon--sobright that you could see to read a newspaper by its light, and--I sawthe party before me advance as plainly as it were noon day. They wereabove me some eight or ten feet on the bridle-road, the earth throwndown from which sloped to within a pace or two of my feet. On the partycame, until almost in front of me, and now I had better describe them. The rider was in full dinner dress, with white waistcoat, and wearing atall chimney-pot hat, and he sat a powerful hill pony (dark brown, withmane and tail) in a listless sort of way, the reins hanging loosely fromboth hands. A Syce led the pony on each side, but their faces I couldnot see, the one next to me having his back to me and the one farthestoff being hidden by the pony's head. Each held the bridle close by thebit, the man next me with his right and the other with his left hand, and the hands were on the thighs of the rider, as if to steady him inhis seat. As they approached, I knowing they could not get to any placeother than my own, called out in Hindustani, 'Quon hai?' (Who is it?). There was no answer, and on they came until right in front of me, when Isaid, in English, 'Hullo, what the d----l do you want here?' Instantlythe group came to a halt, the rider gathering the bridle reins up inboth hands, turned his face, which had hitherto been looking away fromme, towards me, and looked down upon me. The group was still as in atableau, with the bright moon shining upon it, and I at once recognizedthe rider as Lieutenant B. , whom I had formerly known. The face, however, was different from what it used to be; in the place of beingclean-shaven, as when I used to know it, it was now surrounded by afringe (what used to be known as a Newgate fringe), and it was the faceof a dead man, the ghastly waxen pallor of it brought out moredistinctly in the moonlight by the dark fringe of hair by which it wasencircled; the body, too, was much stouter than when I had known it inlife. 

"I marked this in a moment; and then resolved to lay hold of the thing, whatever it might be. I dashed up the bank, and the earth which had beenthrown on the side giving under my feet, I fell forward up the bank onmy hands, recovering myself instantly. I gained the road, and stood inthe exact spot where the group had been, but which was now vacant, therewas not the trace of anything; it was impossible for them to go on, theroad stopped at a precipice about twenty yards further on, and it wasimpossible to turn and go back in a second. All this flashed through mymind, and I then ran along the road for about 100 yards, along whichthey had come, until I had to stop for want of breath, but there was notrace of anything, and not a sound to be heard. I then returned home, where I found my dogs, who, on all other occasions my most faithfulcompanions, had not come with me along the road. 

"Next morning I went up to D. , who belonged to the same regiment as B. , and gradually induced him to talk of him. I said, 'How very stout he hadbecome lately, and what possessed him to allow his beard to grow withthat horrid fringe?' D. Replied, 'Yes, he became very bloated before hisdeath. You know he led a very fast life, and while on the sick list heallowed the fringe to grow, in spite of all that we could say to him, and I believe he was buried with it. ' I asked him where he got the ponyI had seen, describing it minutely. 'Why, ' said D. , 'how do you knowanything about all this? You hadn't seen B. For two or three years, andthe pony you never saw. He bought him at Peshawur, and killed him oneday riding in his reckless fashion down the hill to Trete. ' I then toldhim what I had seen the night before. 

"Once, when the galloping sound was very distinct, I rushed to the doorof my house. There I found my Hindoo bearer, standing with a tattie inhis hand. I asked him what he was there for. He said that there came asound of riding down the hill, and 'passed him like a typhoon, ' and wentround the corner of the house, and he was determined to waylay it, whatever it was. "

In commenting on the case, Mr. Stead remarks, "That such a story asthis, gravely told by a British General in the present day, helps us tounderstand how our ancestors came to believe in the wonderful story ofHerne the Hunter. " I do not know about Herne the Hunter, but it is atall events good testimony that horses as well as men have spirits, forone of the ghosts the General saw was, undoubtedly, that of the ponymurdered by B. Why it was still ridden by the phantom of its formermaster is another question. 

The next case I narrate is also taken from Mr. Stead's same work. It wassent him by one of the leading townsmen of Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, and runs thus:--

"On a fine evening in April, 1859, the writer was riding with a friendon a country road. Twilight was closing down on us, when, after asilence of some minutes, my friend suddenly exclaimed:

"'No man knows me better than you do, J. Do you think I am a nervous, easily frightened sort of man?'

"'Far from it, ' said I, 'among all the men I know in the wild country Ihave lived and worked in, I know none more fearless or of moreunhesitating nerve. '

"'Well, ' said he, 'I think I am that, too, and though I have travelledthese roads all sorts of hours, summer and winter, for twenty years, Inever met anything to startle me, or that I could not account for, untillast Monday evening. About this time it was. Riding old Fan' (a chestnutmare) 'here on this cross-' (a four-way cross) 'road, on my near sidewas a man on a grey horse, coming from this left-hand road. I had topull my off-rein to give myself room to pass ahead of him; he was comingat a right angle to me. As I passed the head of the horse I called out"Good night. " Hearing no reply, I turned in my saddle to the off-side, to see whether he appeared to be asleep as he rode, but to my surprise Isaw neither man nor horse. So sure was I that I had seen such, that Iwheeled old Fan round, and rode back to the middle of the cross, and onneither of the four roads could I see a man or horse, though there waslight enough to see two hundred or three hundred yards, as we can now. Well, I then rode over that gate' (a gate at one corner opening into agrass field), 'thinking he might have gone that way; looking down byeach hedge, I could see nothing of my man and horse; and then--and notuntil then--I felt myself thrill and start with a shuddering sense thatI had seen something uncanny, and, Jove! I put the mare down this hillwe are on now at her very best pace. But the strangest part of my storyis to come, ' said he, continuing. 

"'After I had done my business at the farmhouse here, at foot of thishill, I told the old farmer and his wife what I had seen, as I have nowtold you. The old man said:

"'"For many years I have known thee, M----, on this road, and have younever seen the like before on that cross?"

"'"Seen what before?" I said. 

"'"Why, a man in light-coloured clothes on a grey horse, " said he. 

"'"No, never, " said I, "but I swear I have this evening. "

"'The farmer asked, "Had I never heard of what happened to the Miller ofL---- Mills about forty years ago?"

"'"No, never a word, " I told him. 

"'"Well, " he said, "about forty years ago this miller, returning frommarket, was waylaid and murdered on that cross-road, pockets rifled ofmoney and watch. The horse ran home, about a mile away. Two serving-menset out with lanterns and found their master dead. He was dressed, asmillers often do in this part of the country, in light-coloured clothes, and the horse was a grey horse. The murderers were never found. Theseare facts, " continued the farmer. "I took this farm soon after it allhappened, and, though I have known all this, and have passed over thatcross several thousands of times, I never knew anything unusual theremyself, but there have been a number of people who tell the same storyyou have told mother and me, M----, and describe the appearance as youhave done to us to-night. "'"

Mr. Stead goes on to add: "Four evenings after all this occurred myfriend related it to me as we were riding along the same road. Hecontinued to pass there many times every year for ten years, but never aday saw anything of that sort. "

My next case, a reproduction of a letter in the _Occult Review_ ofSeptember, 1906, reads thus:--

"_A Phantom Horse and Rider--Mrs. Gaskin Anderston's Story_

"The following story is, I think, very remarkable, and I give it exactlyas it was told to me, and written down at the time. 

"A number of members of a gentleman's club were talking and discussing, amongst other subjects, the possibility of there being a future statefor animals. One of the members said:

"'I firmly believe there is. In my early youth I had a practice as amedical man in one of the Midland Counties. One of my patients was avery wealthy man, who owned large tracts of land and had a studcomposed entirely of bay horses with black points--this was a hobby ofhis, and he would never have any others. One day a messenger camesummoning me to Mr. L----, as he had just met with a very bad accident, and was on the point of death. I mounted my horse and started offwithout delay. As I was riding through the front gates to the house, Iheard a shot, and to my amazement the very man I was going to visit rodepast at a furious pace, riding a wretched-looking chestnut with onewhite forefoot and a white star on its forehead. Arrived at the housethe butler said:

"'"He has gone, sir; they had to shoot the horse--you would hear theshot--and at the same moment my master died. "

"'He had had this horse sent on approval; whilst riding it, it backedover a precipice, injuring Mr. L---- fatally, and on being taken to thestables it was found necessary to shoot it. '--Alpha. "

The next case I append (I published it in a weekly journal some yearsago) was related to me by a Captain Beauclerk. 

_The White Horse of Eastover_

When I came down to breakfast one morning I found amongst severalletters awaiting me one from Colonel Onslow, the Commanding Officer ofmy regiment when I first joined. He had always been rather partial tome, and the friendship between us continued after his retirement. Iheard from him regularly at more or less prolonged intervals, and eitherat Christmas or Easter invariably received an invitation to spend a fewdays with him. On this occasion he was most anxious that I shouldaccept. 

"Do come to us for Easter, " he wrote. "I am sure this place willinterest you--it is haunted. "

The cunning fellow! He knew I was very keen on Psychical Research work, and would go almost anywhere on the bare chance of seeing a ghost. 

At that time I was quite open-minded, I had arrived at no definiteconclusion as to the existence or non-existence of ghosts. But to tellthe truth, I doubted very much if the Colonel's word, in thesecircumstances, could be relied upon. I had grave suspicions that this"haunting" was but an invention for the purpose of getting me toEastover. However, as it was just possible that I might bemistaken--that there really was a ghost, and as I had not seen ColonelOnslow for a long time, and indulged in feelings of the warmest regardboth for him and his wife, I resolved to go. 

Accordingly I set out early in the afternoon of the Good Friday. Theweather, which had been muggy in London, grew colder and colder thefurther we advanced along the line, and by the time we reached Eastoverthere was every prospect of a storm. 

As I expected, a closed carriage had been sent to meet me; for theColonel, carrying conservatism--with more conservatism than sense, perhaps--to a fine point, cherished a deep-rooted aversion toinnovations of any sort, and consequently abhorred motors. His house, Eastover Hall, is three miles from the station, and lies at the foot ofa steep spine of the Chilterns. 

The grounds of Eastover Hall were extensive; but, in the ordinary sense, far from beautiful. To me, however, they were more than beautiful; therewas a grandeur in them--a grandeur that appealed to me far more thanmere beauty--the grandeur of desolation, the grandeur of the Unknown. Aswe passed through the massive iron gates of the lodge, I looked uponcountless acres of withered, undulating grass; upon a few rank sedges;upon a score or so of decayed trees; upon a house--huge, bare, grey andmassive; upon bleak walls; upon vacant, eye-like windows; upon crude, scenic inhospitality, the very magnitude of which overpowered me. I havesaid it was cold; but there hung over the estate of Eastover an icinessthat brought with it a quickening, a sickening of the heart, and adreariness that, whilst being depressing in the extreme, was, withal, sublime. Sublime and mysterious; mysterious and insoluble. A thousandfancies swarmed through my mind; yet I could grapple with none; and Iwas loth to acknowledge that, although there are combinations of verysimple material objects which might have had the power of affecting methus, yet any attempt to analyse that power was beyond--far beyond--mymental capability. 

The house, though old--and its black oak panellings, silent staircases, dark corridors, and general air of gloom were certainly suggestive ofghosts--did not affect me in the same degree. The fear it inspired wasthe ordinary fear inspired by the ordinary superphysical, but the fear Ifelt in the grounds was a fear created by something out of theway--something far more bizarre than a mere phantom of the dead. 

The Colonel asked me if I had experienced any unusual sensations themoment I entered the house, and I told him, "Yes. "

"Nearly everyone does, " he replied, "and yet, so far as I know, no onehas ever seen anything. The noises we hear all round the house havelately been more frequent. I won't describe them; I want to learn yourunbiassed opinion of them first. "

We then had tea, and whilst the rest--there was a largehouse-party--indulged in music and cards, the Colonel and I had adelightful chat about old times. I went to bed in the firm resolution ofkeeping awake till at least two; but I was very tired, and the excessivecold had made me extremely sleepy; consequently, despite my heroicefforts, I gradually dozed off, and knew no more till it was broaddaylight and the butler entered my room with a cup of tea. When I camedown to breakfast I found everyone in the best of spirits. The Onslowsare "great hands" at original entertainments, and the announcement thatthere would be a masked ball that evening was received with tremendousenthusiasm. 

"To-night we dance, to-morrow we feed on Easter eggs and fancy cakes, "one of the guests laughingly whispered. "What a nicely orderedprogramme! I hear, too, we are to have a real old-fashioned EasterDay--heaving and lifting, and stool-ball. Egad! The Colonel deservesknighthood!"

Soon after breakfast there was a general stampede to Seeton andDinstable to buy gifts; for in that respect again the Onslows stuck toold customs, and there was a general interchange of presents on Eastermorning. My purchases made, I joined one or two of the house-party atlunch in Seeton, cycled back alone to Eastover in time for tea; and, atfive o'clock, commenced my first explorations of the grounds. The skyhaving become clouded my progress was somewhat slow. I did the Parkfirst, and I had not gone very far before I detected the same presence Ihad so acutely felt the previous afternoon. Like the scent of a wildbeast, it had a certain defined track which I followed astutely, eventually coming to a full stop in front of a wall of rock. I thenperceived by the aid of a few fitful rays of suppressed light, which atintervals struggled successfully through a black bank of clouds, theyawning mouth of a big cavern, from the roof of which hung innumerablestalactites. I now suddenly realized that I was in a very lonely, isolated spot, and became immeasurably perturbed. The Unknown Somethingin the atmosphere which had inspired me with so much fear was hereconglomerated--it was no longer the mere essence--it was the wholeThing. The whole Thing, but what was that Thing? A hideous fascinationmade me keep my gaze riveted on the gaping hole opposite me. At first Icould make out nothing--nothing but jagged walls and roof, and emptydarkness; then there suddenly appeared in the very innermost recesses ofthe cave a faint glow of crimson light which grew and grew, until withstartling abruptness it resolved itself into two huge eyes, red andmenacing. The sight was so unexpected, and, by reason of its intensemalignity, so appalling, that I was simply dumbfounded. I could donothing but stare at the Thing--paralysed and speechless. I made adesperate effort to get back my self-possession; I strove with all mymight to reason with myself, to assure myself that this was the suprememoment of my life, the moment I had so long and earnestly desired. Butit was in vain; I was terrified--helplessly, hopelessly terrified. Theeyes moved, they drew nearer and nearer to me, and as they did so theybecame more and more hostile. I opened my mouth to shout for help, Icould feel my lungs bursting under the tension; not a sound came; andthen--then, as the eyes closed on me, and I could feel the cold, clammyweight pressing me down, there rang out, loud and clear, in the keen andcutting air of the spring evening, a whole choir of voices--the villagechoral society. 

I am not particularly fond of music--certainly not of village music, however well trained it may be; but I can honestly affirm that, at thatmoment, no sounds could have been more welcome to me than those oldfolk-songs piped by the rustics, for the instant they commenced thespell that so closely held me prisoner was broken, my facultiesreturned, and reeling back out of the clutches of the hateful Thing, Ijoyfully turned and fled. 

I related my adventure to the Colonel, and he told me that the cave wasgenerally deemed to be the most haunted spot in the grounds, that no onecared to venture there alone after dark. 

"I have myself many times visited the cave at night--in the company ofothers, " he said, "and we have invariably experienced sensations of theutmost horror and repulsion, though we have seen nothing. It must be adevil. "

I thought so, too, and exclaimed with some vehemence that the propercourse for him to pursue was to have the cave filled in or blasted. Thatnight I awoke at about one o'clock with the feeling very strong on methat something was prowling about under my window. For some time Ifought against the impulse to get out of bed and look, but at last Iyielded. It was bright moonlight--every obstacle in the grounds stoodout with wonderful clearness--and directly beneath the window, peeringup at me, were the eyes--red, lurid, satanical. A dog barked, and theyvanished. I did not sleep again that night, not until the daylightbroke, when I had barely shut my eyes before I was aroused by decidedlymaterial bangings on the doors and hyper-boisterous Easter greetings. 

After breakfast a few of the party went to church, a few into thenursery to romp with the children, whilst the rest dispersed indifferent directions. At luncheon all met again, and there was muchmerry-making over the tansy cakes--very foolish, no doubt, but to me atleast very delightful, and perhaps a wise practice, at times, even forthe most prosaic. In the afternoon the Colonel took me for a drive to acharmingly picturesque village in the Chilterns, whence we did not setout on our way back till it was twilight. 

The Colonel was a good whip, and the horse, though young and ratherhigh-spirited, was, he said, very dependable on the whole, and had nevercaused him any trouble. We spun along at a brisk trot--the last villageseparating us from the Hall was past, and we were on a high eminence, almost within sight of home, when a startling change in the atmospheresuddenly became apparent--it turned icy cold. I made some sort ofcomment to the Colonel, and as I did so the horse shied. 

"Hulloa!" I exclaimed. "Does she often do this?"

"No, not often, only when we are on this road about this time, " was thegrim rejoinder. "Keep your eyes open and sit tight. "

We were now amid scenery of the same desolate type that had so impressedme the day of my arrival. Gaunt, barren hills, wild, uncultivatedlevels, sombre valleys, inhabited only by grotesque enigmatical shadowsthat came from Heaven knows where, and hemmed us in on all sides. 

A large quarry, half full of water and partly overgrown with brambles, riveted my attention, and as I gazed fixedly at it I saw, or fancied Isaw, the shape of something large and white--vividly white--rise fromthe bottom. 

The glimpse I caught of it was, however, only momentary, for we weremoving along at a great pace, and I had hardly seen the last of itbefore the quarry was left behind and we were descending a long andgradual declivity. There was but little wind, but the cold wasbenumbing; neither of us spoke, and the silence was unbroken save by themonotonous patter, patter of the horse's hoofs on the hard road. 

We were, I should say, about half-way down the hill, when away in ourrear, from the direction of the quarry, came a loud protracted neigh. Iat once looked round, and saw standing on the crest of the eminence wehad just quitted, and most vividly outlined against the envelopingdarkness, a gigantic horse, white and luminous. 

At that moment our own mare took fright; we were abruptly swung forward, and, had I not--mindful of the Colonel's warning--been "sitting tight, "I should undoubtedly have been thrown out. We dashed downhill at aterrific rate, our mare mad with terror, and on peering over my shoulderI saw, to my horror, the white steed tearing along not fifty yardsbehind us. I was now able to get a vivid impression of the monstrousbeast. Although the night was dark, a strong, lurid glow, which seemedto emanate from all over it, enabled me to see distinctly its broad, muscular breast; its panting, steaming flanks; its long, graceful legswith their hairy fetlocks and shoeless, shining hoofs; its powerful butarched back; its lofty, colossal head with waving forelock and broad, massive forehead; its snorting nostrils; its distended, foaming jaws;its huge, glistening teeth; and its lips, wreathed in a savage grin. Onand on it raced, its strides prodigious, its mighty mane rising andfalling, and blowing all around it in unrestrained confusion. 

A slip--a single slip, and we should be entirely at its mercy. 

Our own horse was now out of control. A series of violent plunges, whichnearly succeeded in unseating me, had enabled her to get the check ofthe bit between her teeth so as to render it utterly useless; and shehad then started off at a speed I can only liken to flying. Fortunatelywe were now on a more or less level ground, and the road, every inch ofwhich our horse knew, was smooth and broad. 

I glanced at the Colonel convulsively clutching the reins; he wasclinging to his seat for dear life, his hat gone. I wanted to speak, butI knew it was useless--the shrieking of the air as it roared past usdeadened all sounds. Once or twice I glanced over the side of the trap. The rapidity with which we were moving caused a hideous delusion--theground appeared to be gliding from beneath us; and I experienced thesensation of resting on nothing. Despite our danger, however, fromnatural causes--a danger which, I knew, could not have been moreacute--my fears were wholly of the superphysical. It was not the horrorof being dashed to pieces I dreaded--it was the horror of the phantomhorse--of its sinister, hostile appearance--of its unknown powers. Whatwould it do if it overtook us? With each successive breath I drew Ifelt sure the fateful event--the long-anticipated crisis--had come. 

At last my expectations were realized. The teeth of the gigantic steedclosed down on me, its nostrils hissed resistance out of me--I swerved, tottered, fell; and as I sank on the ground my senses left me. 

On coming to I found myself in a propped-up position on the floor of atiny room with someone pouring brandy down my throat. Happily, beyond asevere shock, I had sustained no injury--a sufficiently miraculouscircumstance, as the trap had come to grief in failing to clear thelodge gates, the horse had skinned its knees, and the Colonel hadfractured his shoulder. Of the phantom horse not a glimpse had beenseen. Even the Colonel, strange to relate, though he had managed to peepround, had not seen it. He had heard and felt a Presence, that was all;and after listening to my experience, he owned he was truly thankful hewas only clair-audient. 

"A gift like yours, " he said, with more candour than kindness, "is acurse, not a blessing. And now I have your corroboration, I might aswell tell you that we have long suspected the ghost to be a horse, andhave attributed its hauntings to the fact that, some time ago, whenexploring in the cave, several prehistoric remains of horses werefound, one of which we kept, whilst we presented the others to aneighbouring museum. I dare say there are heaps more. "

"Undoubtedly there are, " I said, "but take my advice and leave themalone--re-inter the remains you have already unearthed--and thus put astop to the hauntings. If you go on excavating and keep the bones youfind, the disturbances will, in all probability, increase, and thehauntings will become not only many but multiform. "

Needless to say the Colonel carried out my injunctions to the letter. Far from continuing his work of excavation he lost no time in restoringthe bones he had kept to their original resting-place; after which, as Ipredicted, the hauntings ceased. 

This case, to me, is very satisfactory, as it testifies to what wasunquestionably an actual phantasm of the dead--of a dead horse--albeitthat horse was prehistoric; and such horses are all the more likely tobe earth-bound on account of their wild, untamed natures. 

Here is another account of a phantom horse taken from Mr. Stead's _RealGhost Stories_. It is written by an Afrikander who, in a letter to Mr. Stead, says:

"I am not a believer in ghosts, nor never was; but seeing you wanted acensus of them, I can't help giving you a remarkable experience ofmine. It was some three summers back, and I was out with a party of Boerhunters. We had crossed the Northern boundary of the Transvaal, and werecamped on the ridges of the Sembombo. I had been out from sunrise, andwas returning about dusk with the skin of a fine black ostrich thrownacross the saddle in front of me, in the best of spirits at my goodluck. Making straight for the camp, I had hardly entered a thick bushwhen I thought that I heard somebody behind me. Looking behind, I saw aman mounted on a white horse. You can imagine my surprise, for my horsewas the only one in camp, and we were the only party in the country. Without considering I quickened my pace into a canter, and on doing somy follower appeared to do the same. At this I lost all confidence, andmade a run for it, with my follower in hot pursuit, as it appeared to myimagination; and I did race for it (the skin went flying in about twominutes, and my rifle would have done the same had it not been strappedover my shoulders). This I kept up until I rode into camp right amongthe pals cooking the evening meal. The Boers about the camp were quickin their enquiries as to my distressed condition, and regainingconfidence, I was putting them off as best I could, when the old boss(an old Boer of some sixty-eight or seventy years), looking up from thefire, said:

"'The white horse! The Englishman has seen the white horse. '

"This I denied, but to no purpose. And that night round the camp fire Itook the trouble to make enquiries as to the antecedents of the whitehorse. And the old Boer, after he had commanded silence, began. He said:

"'The English are not brave, but foolish. We beat them at Majuba, sometwenty-five seasons back. There was an Englishman here like you; he hadbrought a horse with him, against our advice, to be killed with the fly, the same as yours will be in a day or two. And he, like you, would gowhere he was told not to go; and one day he went into a bush (that verybush you rode through to-night), and he shot seven elephants, and thenext day he went in to fetch the ivory, and about night his horse cameinto camp riderless, and was dead from the fly before the sun went down. The Englishman is in that bush now; anyway, he never came back. And nowanybody who ventures into that bush is chased by the white horse. Iwouldn't go into that bush for all the ivory in the land. The Englishare not brave, but foolish; we beat them at Majuba. '

"Here he ran into a torrent of abuse of all Englishmen in general, andin particular. And I took the opportunity of rolling myself up in myblankets for the night, sleeping all the better for my adventure. 

"Now, Mr. Stead, I don't believe in ghosts, but I was firmly convincedduring that run of mine, and can vouch for the accuracy of it, nothaving heard a word of the Englishman or his white horse before myheadlong return to the camp that night. I shortly hope to be near thatbush again, but, like the old Boer, I can say I wouldn't go into thatbush again for all the ivory in the land. 

"P. S. --A few days after we dropped across a troop of elephants withoutentering the fatal bush, and managed to bag seven, photographs of whichI took, and shall be pleased to send for your inspection, if desired. "

There can be very little doubt that the phantom the Afrikander saw wasthe actual spirit of a dead horse. 

Another experience of haunting by the same animal was told me by aChelsea artist who assured me it was absolutely true. I append it asnearly as possible in his own words. 

_Heralds of Death_

"It is many years ago, " he began, "since I came into my property, Heatherleigh Hall, near Carlisle, Cumberland. It was left me by mygreat-uncle, General Wimpole, whom I had never seen, but who had made mehis heir in preference to his other nephews, owing to my reputedlikeness to an aunt, to whom he was greatly attached. Of course I wasmuch envied, and I dare say a good many unkind things were said aboutme, but I did not care--Heatherleigh Hall was mine, and I had as muchright to it as anyone else. I came there all alone--my two brothers, Dick and Hal, the one a soldier and the other a sailor, were both awayon foreign service, whilst Beryl, my one and only sister, was stayingwith her fiancé's family in Bath. Never shall I forget my firstimpressions. Depict the day--an October afternoon. The air mellow, theleaves yellow, and the sun a golden red. Not a trace of clouds or windanywhere. Everything serene and still. A broad highway; a wood; a lodgein the midst of the wood; large iron gates; a broad carriage drive, planted on either side with lofty pines and elms, whose gnarled andforked branches threw grotesque and not altogether pleasing shadows onthe pale gravel. 

"At the end of the avenue, at least a quarter of a mile long, wideexpanses of soft, velvety grass, interspersed at regular intervals withplots of flowers--dahlias, michaelmas daisies--no longer in their firstbloom--chrysanthemums, etc. Beyond the lawn, the house, and beyond thatagain, and on either side, big, old-fashioned gardens full offruit--fruit of all kinds, some, such as grapes and peaches, in monstergreen-houses, and others--luscious pears, blenheim oranges, goldenpippins, etc. --in rich profusion in the open, the whole encompassed by ahigh and solid brick wall, topped with a bed of mortar and broken glass. The house, which was built, or, rather, faced with split flints, andedged and buttressed with cut grey stone, had a majestic but gloomyappearance. Its front, lofty and handsome, was somewhat castellated instyle, two semicircular bows, or half-moons, placed at a suitabledistance from each other, rising from the base to the summit of theedifice; these were pierced, at every floor, with rows ofstone-mullioned windows, rising to the height of four or five stories. The flat wall between had larger windows, lighting the great hall, gallery, and upper apartments. These windows were abundantly ornamentedwith stained glass, representing the arms, honours, and alms-deeds ofthe Wimpole family. 

"The towers, half included in the building, were completely circularwithin, and contained the winding stair of the mansion; and whosoascended them, when the winter wind was blowing, seemed rising by atornado to the clouds. Midway between the towers was a heavy stoneporch, with a Gothic gateway, surmounted by a battlemented parapet, madegable fashion, the apex of which was garnished by a pair of dolphins, rampant and antagonistic, whose corkscrew tails seemed contorted by thelast agonies of rage convulsed. 

"The porch doors thrown open to receive me, led into a hall, wide, vaulted and lofty, and decorated here and there with remnants oftapestry and grim portraits of the Wimpoles. One picture in particularriveted my attention. Hung in an obscure corner, where the light rarelypenetrated, it represented the head and shoulders of a young man with astrikingly beautiful face--the features small and regular like those ofa woman--the hair yellow and curly. It was the eyes that struck memost--they followed me everywhere I went with a persistency that waspositively alarming. There was something in them I had never seen incanvas eyes before, something deeper and infinitely more intricate thancould be produced by mere paint--something human and yet not human, friendly and yet not friendly; something baffling, enigmatical, haunting. I enquired of my deceased relative's aged housekeeper, Mrs. Grimstone--whom I had retained--whose portrait it was, and she repliedwith a scared look, 'Horace, youngest son of Sir Algernon Wimpole, whodied here in 1745. '

"'The face fascinates me, ' I said. 'Is there any history attached toit?'

"'Why, yes, sir!' she responded, her eyes fixed on the floor, 'but thelate master never liked referring to it. '

"'Is it as bad as that?' I said, laughing. 'Tell me!'

"'Well, sir, ' she began, 'they do say as how Sir Algernon, who was athorough country squire--very fond of hunting and shooting and all sortsof manly exercises--never liked Mr. Horace, who was delicate anddandified--what the folk in those days used to style a macaroni. Theclimax came when Mr. Horace took up with the Jacobites. Sir Algernonwould have nothing more to do with him then and turned him adrift. Oneday there was a great commotion in the neighbourhood, the Governmenttroops were hunting the place in search of rebels, and who should comegalloping up the avenue with a couple of troopers in hot pursuit but Mr. Horace. The noise brought out Sir Algernon, and he was so infuriated tothink that his son was the cause of the disturbance, a "disgracefulyoung cub, " he called him, that despite Mr. Horace's entreaties forprotection, he ran him through with his sword. It was a dreadful thingfor a father to do, and Sir Algernon bitterly repented it. His wife, who had been devoted to Mr. Horace, left him, and at last, in a fit ofdespondency, he hanged himself--out there, on one of the elms lining theavenue. It is still standing. Ever since then they do say that the woodis haunted, and that before the death of any member of the family Mr. Horace is seen galloping along the old carriage drive. '

"'Pleasant, ' I grunted. 'And how about the house--is it haunted too?'

"'I daresn't say, ' she murmured. 'Some will tell you it is, and somewill tell you it isn't. '

"'In which category are you included?' I asked. 

"'Well!' she said 'I have lived here happy and comfortable forty-fiveyears the day after to-morrow, and that speaks for itself, don't it?'And with that she hobbled off and showed me the way to the dining-room. 

"What a house it was! From the hall proceeded doorways and passages, more than the ordinary memory could retain. Of these portals, one ateach end conducted to the tower stairs, others, to the reception-roomsand domestic offices. In the right wing, besides bedrooms galore, was alofty and spacious picture gallery; in the left--a chapel; for theWimpoles were, formerly, Roman Catholics. The general fittings andfurniture, both of the hall and house in general, were substantial, venerable and strongly corroborative of what Mrs. Grimstone hintedat--they suggested ghosts. 

"The walls, lined with black oak panels, or dark hangings that flutteredmysteriously each time the wind blew, were funereal indeed; and so highand narrow were the windows, that little was to be discerned throughthem but cross-barred portions of the sky. One spot in particularappealed to my nerves--and that, a long, vaulted stone passage leadingfrom a morning room to the foot of the back staircase. Here the voiceand even the footsteps echoed with a hollow, low response, and oftenwhen I have been hurrying along it--I never dared walk slowly--I havefancied--and maybe it was more than fancy--I have been pursued. 

"Time passed, and from being merely used to my new environments, I grewto take a pride in them, to love them. I made the acquaintance ofseveral of my neighbours, those I deemed the most desirable, and onreturning from wintering abroad, brought home a bride, a young Polishgirl, who added lustre to the surroundings, and in no small degreehelped to dissipate the gloom. Indeed, had it not been for the picturein the hall, and for the twilight shadows and twilight footsteps in thestone passage, I should soon have ceased to think of ghosts. Ghosts, forsooth! When all around me vibrated with the sounds of girlishlaughter, and the summer sunshine, sparkling on the golden curls of mychild-wife, saw itself reflected a millionfold in the alluring depths ofher azure eyes. In halcyon days like these who thinks of ghosts anddeath?

"And yet! It is in just such times as these that hell is nearest. Therecame a night in August when the air was so hot and sultry that I couldscarcely breathe, and unable to bear the atmosphere of the house andgardens any longer, I sought the coolness of the wood. Olga--mywife--did not accompany me, as she was suffering from a slight--thankGod, it was only slight--sunstroke. It was close on midnight, and therewas a dead stillness abroad that seemed as if it must be universal--asif it enveloped the whole of nature. I tried to realize London--todepict the Strand and Piccadilly, aglow with artificial light andreverberating with the roll of countless traffic and the tread ofmillions of feet. 

"I failed. The incongruity of such imaginings here--here amidstomnipotent silence--rendered such thoughts impossible. A leaf rustled, and its rustling sounded to my ears like the gentle closing of somegiant door. A twig fell, and I turned sharply round, convinced I shouldsee a pile of broken debris. I love all trees, but I love them best byday--to me it seems that night utterly metamorphizes them--brings out inthem a subtler, darker side one would little suspect. Here, in this oak, for instance, was an example. In the morning one sees in it nought butquiet dignity, venerable old age, benevolence, and, by reason of theample protection its branches afford from the sun, charity andphilanthropy. Its leaves are bright, dainty, pretty; its trunk suggestsnothing but a cosy and soothing retreat for students and lovers. Butnow--see how different! These great spreading, gnarled branches arehands, claws--monstrous and menacing; those leaves no longer brightremind me of a hearse's plumes; their rustling--of the rustling andswitching of a pall or winding-sheet. The trunk, black, sinuous, towering, is assuredly no piece of timber, but something pulpy, something intangible, something antagonistic, mystic, devilish. I turnfrom it and shudder. Then my mind reverts to the elm--the elm on whichSir Algernon hanged himself. I remember it is not more than twenty yardsfrom where I stand. I stare down at the soil, at the clumps of cresteddog's-tail and stray blades of succulent darnel; I force my attention ona toadstool, whose soft and lowly head gleams sickly white in themoonbeams. I glance from it to a sleeping close-capped dandelion, fromit to a thistle, from it again to a late bush vetch, and then, willy-nilly, to the accursed elm. My God! What a change. It wasn't likethat when I passed it at noon. It was just an ordinary tree then, butnow, now--and what is that--that sinister bundle--suspended from oneof its curling branches? A cold sweat bursts out on me, my kneestremble, my hair begins to rise on end. Swinging round, I am about torush away--blindly rush away--hither, thither, anywhere--anywhere out ofsight of that tree and of all the hideous possibilities it promises tomaterialize for me. I have not taken five strides, however, before I ampulled sharply up by the sounds of horse's hoofs--of hoofs on the hardgravel, away in the distance. They speedily grow nearer. A horse isgalloping, galloping towards me along the broad carriage drive. Nearer, nearer and nearer it comes! Who is it? WHAT is it? A deadly nauseaseizes me, I swerve, totter, reel, and am only prevented from falling bythe timely interference of a pine. The concussion with its leviathantrunk clears my senses. All my faculties become wonderfully andpainfully alert. I would give my very soul if it were not so--if I couldbut fall asleep or faint. The sound of the hoofs is very much nearernow, so near indeed that I may see the man--Heaven grant it may be onlya man after all--any moment. Ah! my heart gives a great sickly jerk. Something has shot into view. There, not fifty yards from me, where theroad curves, and the break in the foliage overhead admits a great floodof moonlight. I recognize the "thing" at once; it's not a man, it'snothing human, it's the picture I know so well and dread so much, theportrait of Horace Wimpole, that hangs in the main hall--and it'smounted on a coal-black horse with wildly flying mane and foaming mouth. On and on they come, thud, thud, thud! The man is not dressed as arider, but is wearing the costume in the picture--i. E. That of amacaroni! A nut! More fit for a lady's seminary than a fine, old Englishmansion. 

"Something beside me rustles--rustles angrily, and I know, I can feel, it is the bundle on the branch--the ghastly, groaning, creaking, croaking caricature of Sir Algernon. The horseman comes up to me--oureyes meet--I am looking in those of a dead--of a long since dead man--myblood freezes. 

"He flashes past me--thud, thud, thud! A bend in the road, and hevanishes from sight. But I can still hear him, still hear the mad patterof his horse's hoofs as they bear him onward, lifeless, fleshless, weightless, to his ancient home. God pity the souls that know no rest. 

"How I got back to the house I hardly know. I believe it was with myeyes shut, and I am certain I ran all the way. 

"About four o'clock the following afternoon I received a cablegram fromMalta. Intuition warned me to prepare for the worst. Its contents wereunpleasantly short and pithy--'Hal drowned at two o'clock thismorning. --Dick. '

"Two years passed--again an August night, hot and oppressive as before, and again--though surely against my will, my better judgment, if youlike--I visited the wood. Horse's hoofs just the same as before. Thesame galloping, the same figure, the same EYES! the same mad, panic-stricken flight home, and, early in the succeeding afternoon, asimilar cablegram--this time from Sicily. 'Dick died at midnight. Dysentery. --Andrews. '

"Jack Andrews was Dick's pal--his bosom friend. So once again thephantom rider had brought its grisly message--played its ghoulish rôle. My brothers were both dead now, and only Beryl remained. Another yearsped by and the last night in October--a Monday--saw me, impelled by afascination I could not resist, once again in the wood. Up to a pointeverything happened as before. As the monotonous church clock strucktwelve, from afar came the sound of hoofs. Nearer, nearer, nearer, andthen with startling abruptness the rider shot into view. And now, mixedwith the awful, indescribable terror the figure always conveyed with it, came a feeling of intense rage and indignation. Should Beryl--Beryl whomI loved next best to my wife--be torn from me even as Dick and Hal hadbeen? No! Ten thousand times no! Sooner than that I would risk anything. A sudden inspiration, coming maybe from the whispering leaves, or fromthe elm, or from the mysterious flickering moonbeams, flashed throughme. Could I not intercept the figures, drive them back? By doing sosomething told me Beryl might be saved. A terrible struggle at once tookplace within me, and it was only after the most desperate efforts that Iat length succeeded in fighting back my terror and flung myself out intothe middle of the drive. No words of mine can describe all I wentthrough as I stood there anticipating the arrival of the phantoms. Atlength they came, right up to me; and as, with frantic resolution, Iscrewed up courage to plant myself directly in their path, and stared upinto the rider's eyes, the huge steed halted, gave one shrill neigh, andturning round, galloped back again, disappearing whither it hademerged. 

"Two days afterwards I received a letter from my brother-in-law. 

"'I have been having an awful time, ' he wrote. 'My darling Beryl hasbeen frightfully ill. On Monday night we gave up all hope of herrecovery, but at twelve o'clock, when the doctor bid us prepare for theend, the most extraordinary thing happened. Turning over in bed, shedistinctly called out your name, and rallied. And now, thank God, she iscompletely out of danger. The doctor says it is the most astonishingrecovery he has ever known. '

 * * * * *

"That is twenty years ago, and I've not seen the phantom rider since. Nor do I fancy he will appear again, for when I look into the eyes ofthe picture in the hall, they are no longer wandering, but at rest. "

 * * * * *

Perhaps, one of the most interesting accounts of the phantasm of a horsein my possession is that recorded by C. E. G----, a friend of my boyhood. Writing to me from the United States some months ago, he says:

"Knowing how interested you are in all cases of hauntings, and in thoserelating to animal ghosts especially, I am sending you an account of an'experience' that happened to my uncle, Mr. John Dale, about six monthsago. He was returning to his home in Bishopstone, near Helena, Montana, shortly after dark, and had arrived at a particularly lonely part of theroad where the trees almost meet overhead, when his horse showed signsof restlessness. It slackened down, halted, shivered, whinnied, and keptup such a series of antics, that my uncle descended from the trap to seeif anything was wrong with it. He thought that, perhaps, it was going tohave some kind of fit, or an attack of ague, which is not an uncommoncomplaint among animals in his part of the country, and he was preparingto give it a dose of quinine, when suddenly it reared up violently, andbefore he could stop it, was careering along the road at lightningspeed. My uncle was now in a pretty mess. He was stranded in a forestwithout a lantern, ten miles, at least, from home. Feeling too depressedto do anything, he sat down by the roadside, and seriously thought ofremaining there till daybreak. A twinge of rheumatism, however, remindedhim the ground was little warmer than ice, and made him realize thatlying on it would be courting death. Consequently, he got up, andsetting his lips grimly, struck out in the direction of Bishopstone. Atevery step he took the track grew darker. Shadows of trees andcountless other things, for which he could see no counterpart, crept outand rendered it almost impossible for him to tell where to tread. Apeculiar, indefinable dread also began to make itself felt, and thedarkness seemed to him to assume an entirely new character. He ploddedon, breaking into a jog-trot every now and then, and whistling by way ofcompanionship. The stillness was sepulchral--he strained his ears, butcould not even catch the sound of those tiny animals that are usuallyheard in the thickets and furze-bushes at night; and all his movementswere exaggerated, until their echoes seemed to reverberate through thewhole forest. A turn of the road brought him into view of something thatmade his heart throb with delight. Standing by the wayside was anenormous coach with four huge horses pawing the ground impatiently. Myuncle rushed up to the driver, who was so enveloped in wraps, he couldnot see his face, and in a voice trembling with emotion begged for thefavour of a lift--if not to Helena itself, as far in that direction asthe coach was going. The driver made no reply, but with his handmotioned my uncle to get in. The latter did not need a second bidding, and the moment he was seated, the vehicle started off. It was a large, roomy conveyance, but had a stifling atmosphere about it that struck myuncle as most unpleasant; and although he could see no one, heintuitively felt he was not alone, and that more than one pair of eyeswere watching him. 

"The coach did not go as fast as my uncle expected, but moved with acurious gliding motion, and the wheels made no noise whatever. Thisadded to my uncle's apprehensions, and he almost made up his mind toopen the carriage door and jump out. Something, however, which he couldnot account for restrained him, and he maintained his seat. Outside, allwas still profoundly dark. The trees were scarcely distinguishable asdeeper masses of shadow, and were recognizable only by the resinousodour, that, from time to time, sluggishly flowed in at the open windowas the coach rolled on. 

"At length they overtook some other vehicle, and for the first time forsome hours my uncle heard the sound of solid wheels, which were aswelcome to him as any joy bells. Just as they were passing theconveyance--a small wagonette drawn by a pair of horses, the latter tookfright; there were loud shouts and a great stampede, and my uncle, wholeaned out of the coach window, caught a glimpse of the vehicle dashingalong ahead of them at a frightful speed. The driver of the coach, apparently totally unconcerned, continued his journey at the sameregular, mechanical pace. 

"Presently my uncle heard the sound of rushing water, and knew they mustbe nearing the Usk, a tributary of the Battle, which was only five milesfrom his house. 

"The forest now ceased, and they crossed the road over the bridge in abrilliant burst of moonlight. About a mile or so further on the coachhalted, and, to my uncle's surprise, he found himself in front of ahouse he had no recollection of seeing before. He got out, and to hishorror saw that instead of riding in a coach he had been riding in ahearse, and that the horses had on their heads gigantic sable plumes. 

"While he was standing gazing at the extraordinary equipage, the door ofthe house slowly opened, and two figures came out carrying a smallcoffin, which they placed inside the vehicle. He then heard loud pealsof mad, hilarious laughter, and coach and horses immediately vanished. My uncle arrived home safely, but the shock of what he had experiencedkept him in bed for some days. He learned that a phantom coach similarto the one he had ridden in had been seen in the forest twenty yearspreviously, and that it was supposed to be a prognostication of somegreat misfortune, which supposition, in my uncle's case at least, provedtrue, as his wife died of apoplexy a few days after this adventure. "

Yet another case of haunting by the phantasms of a horse comes to mefrom a gentleman in Marseilles, who told it me thus:--

"It was 9 p. M. When I left my friend Maitland's hotel in Châteauborne, and, facing north, set out on my way to Liffre, where my headquartershad been for the past fortnight. Liffre is in the hills, and the roadwhich separated it from Châteauborne, wild and lonely enough in daylightand when the weather is fair, is almost untraversable in winter. Thenight in question was Christmas Eve; the snow had fallen heavily duringthe day, and with the wind blowing in icy draughts from the north-east, there was every prospect of another downfall. Maitland pressed me tostay in his hotel. 'It is sheer folly, ' he said, 'for you to attempt toget home in weather like this. It is pitch dark, you are not familiarwith the route, and if you don't wander off the track and tumble over aprecipice, you will walk into a snowdrift. Be sensible--sleep here!'

"Much, however, as I should have liked to follow his counsel, I did notfeel justified in doing so, as I had a lot of correspondence to attendto, and I realized it was most necessary for me to get back to Liffrewithout any further delay. 

"It was true the night was inky black; but, with the aid of a lamp, Ihadn't the slightest doubt I could find my way. Maitland bartered for acandle lantern with his host, and armed with this, a flagon of brandyand water and a thick stick, I said good-bye to Châteauborne. 

"A couple of hundred yards saw me beyond the outskirts of the town, wherein I was the sole pedestrian, and silence reigned supreme. On andon I plodded, the feeble, yellow light of my lantern just preventingme--but only just--from wandering from the track. The road, which forthe first mile or so was tolerably level, gradually began to rise, and, as it did so, I noticed for the first time indistinct images ofgigantic, naked trees that becoming more and more numerous, and closerand closer together, at length united their long and grotesquely shapedbranches overhead, and I found myself in the depths of a vast forest. The snow, which had up to the present held off, now recommenced to fall, and presently the wind, which had for some time been slowly acquiringstrength, came howling through the trees with the utmost fury, the firstblast swishing the lantern out of my hands and hurling me withconsiderable force into an undergrowth of thorns and brambles, out ofwhich I extricated myself with no little difficulty. 

"I was now in the sorriest of plights--enveloped on all sides in Stygiandarkness I was unable to discover my lantern, and was thus totally atthe mercy of the ruthless elements. There were only two courses beforeme--either I must remain where I was and be frozen to death, or, makinga guess at the route, I must push on ahead and run the risk of ending mylife at the bottom of a ravine. I chose the latter. Groping about withmy feet, until I at length discovered what I thought must be the righttrack, I pushed ahead, and, staggering and stumbling forward, managed tomake some sort of progress, terribly slow though it was. The blindingdarkness of the snowy night, the intense silence and utter solitude ofthe place, combined with the knowledge that on all sides of me lay holesand chasms, dampened my spirits and raised strange phantoms in myimagination. The wind now rose, and the dismal sighing of the treesspeedily grew into a series of the most perturbing screeches, as thebranches and trunks swayed to and fro like reeds before the violence ofthe hurricane. 

"At this juncture I gave myself up for lost, and, coming to a standstillup to my knees in snow, was preparing to lie down and die, when, to mygreat joy, a light suddenly appeared ahead of me, and the next moment aman, mounted on a big white horse, rode noiselessly up to me. He waswrapped in a shaggy great-coat, and a slouch hat worn low over his eyescompletely hid his face from me. In his disengaged hand he carried alantern. 

"'By Jove!' I exclaimed, 'I am glad to see you, for I've lost the trackto Liffre. Can you tell me, or, better still, show me, the way to somehouse where I can put up for the remainder of the night?'

"The stranger made no reply, but bidding me follow with a wave of hishand, rode silently in front of me, and although I tried to keep up withhim, I could not; and the odd thing was, that without apparentlyincreasing his pace, he always maintained his distance. After proceedingin this manner for possibly ten minutes, we suddenly turned to the left, and I found myself in a big clearing in the wood, with a long, low-builthouse opposite me. 

"My guide then paused, and indicating the front door of the house withan emphatic gesture of his hand, seemed suddenly to melt away into thinair, for although I peered about me on all sides to try to find someindications of him, neither he nor his horse was anywhere to be seen. Thinking this was rather queer, but quite ready to attribute it tonatural causes, I approached the building, and, making use of myknuckles in lieu of a knocker, beat a loud tattoo on the woodwork. Therewas no response. Again I rapped, and the door slowly opening revealed apair of gleaming, dark eyes. 'What do you want?' enquired a harsh voicein barbarous accents. 'A night's lodging, ' I replied; 'and I'm willingto pay a good price for it, for I'm more than half frozen. '

"At this the door opened wider, and I found myself confronted by a womanwith a candle. She had not the most prepossessing of expressions, thoughher hair, eyes and features were decidedly good. She was dressed withtawdry smartness--earrings, necklace, and rings, and very high-heeledbuckle shoes. Indeed, her costume was so out of keeping with therusticity of her surroundings as to be quite extraordinary. This factstruck me at once, as did her fingers, which, though spatulate and ugly, had been manicured, and of course very much over-manicured, for effect. Had this not been the case, I probably should not have noticed them. Butthe unnatural gloss on them, exaggerated by the candlelight, made melook, and I was at once impressed with the criminal formation of thefingers--the club-shaped ends denoted something very bad--somethinghomicidal--and as my eyes wandered from the hands to the face, I sawwith a thrill of horror that the ears were set low down and far back onthe head, and that the eyes gleamed with the sinister glitter of thewolf. 

"Still, I must take my chance--the woman or the wood--it had to be oneof the two. 'If you'll step inside, monsieur, ' she said, 'I'll see whatcan be done for you. We have only recently come here, and the house isanyhow at present. Still, if you don't mind roughing it a little, we canlet you have a bed, and you can rely upon me that it is clean andwell-aired. ' I followed her eagerly, and she led me down a narrowpassage into a big room with a low ceiling, traversed with a ponderousoak beam, blackened with the smoke of endless peat fires. 

"Before the blazing faggots on the hearth sat a burly-looking individualin a blue blouse. On our arrival he arose, and as his huge form toweredabove me, I thought I had never seen anyone quite so hideous, nor soutterly unlike the orthodox Frenchman. Obeying his injunction--for I canscarcely call it an invitation--to sit down, I took a seat by the fire, and warming my half-frozen limbs, waited impatiently whilst the womanmade up my bed and prepared supper. 

"The storm had now reached cyclonic dimensions, and under its stupendousfury the whole house--stoutly built though it was--swayed on itsfoundations. The howling of the wind in the rude, old-fashioned chimneyand along the passage, and the frenzied beating of the snow against thediamond window-panes, deadened all other noises, and rendered anyattempt at conversation absolutely abortive. So I ate my meal insilence, pretending not to notice the subtle interchange of glances thatconstantly took place between the strangely assorted pair. Whether theywere husband and wife, what the man did for a living, were questionsthat continually occurred to me, and I found my eyes incessantlywandering to the numerous packing-cases, piles of carpets, casks andother articles, which corroborated the woman's statement that they hadbut recently 'moved in. ' Once I attempted to empty the coffee (which wasblack and peculiarly bitter) under the table, but had to desist, as Isaw the man's devilish eyes fixed searchingly on me. I then pushed asidethe cup, and on the woman asking if it was not to my liking, I shoutedout that I was not in the least thirsty. After this incident the covertlooks became more numerous, and my suspicions increased accordingly. 

"At the first opportunity I got up, and signalling my intention to go tobed, was preparing to leave my seat, when my host, walking to acupboard, fetched out a bottle of cognac, and pouring out a tumbler, handed it me with a mien that I dare not refuse. 

"The woman then led me up a flight of rickety, wooden steps and into asepulchral-looking chamber with no other furniture in it save a long, narrow, iron bedstead, a dilapidated washstand, a very unsteady, commondeal table, on which was a looking-glass and a collar stud, and arush-bottomed chair. Setting the candlestick on the dressing-table, andassuring me again that the bed was well aired, my hostess withdrew, observing as she left the room that she would get me a nice breakfastand call me at seven. At seven! How I wished it was seven now! As Istood in the midst of the floor shivering--for the room was icy cold, Isuddenly saw a dark shadow emerge from a remote corner of the room andslide surreptitiously towards the door, where it halted. My eyes thenfell on the lock, and I perceived that there was no key. No key! Andthat evil-looking pair below! I must barricade the door somehow. Yetwith what? There was nothing of any weight in the room! Nothing! I beganto feel horribly tired and sleepy--so sleepy that it was only withsupreme effort I could prevent my eyelids closing. Ah! I had it--awedge! I had a knife. Of wood there was plenty--a piece off thewashstand, table, or chair. Anything would suffice. I essayed tostruggle to the chair, my limbs tottered, my eyelids closed. Then theshadow from the doorway moved towards and THROUGH me, and with thecoldness of its passage I revived! With desperate energy I cut a coupleof chunks off the washstand, and paring them down, eventually succeededin slipping them in the crack of the door, and rendering it impossibleto open from the outside. That done, I staggered to the bed, andfalling, dressed as I was, on the counterpane, sank into a deep sleep. How long I slept I cannot say. I suddenly heard the loud neighing of ahorse which seemed to come from just under my window, and, as in avision, saw by my side in the bed a something which gradually developedinto the figure of a man, the counterpart of the mysterious being in theshaggy coat who had guided me to the house. He was fully dressed, soundasleep and breathing heavily. As I was looking a dark shadow fell acrossthe sleeper's face, and on glancing up I perceived, to my horror, ablack something crawling on the floor. Nearer and nearer it came, untilit reached the side of the bed, when I immediately recognized the evil, smirking face of my hostess. In one hand she held a lamp and in theother a horn-handled knife. Setting the lamp on the floor, she coollyundid the collar of the sleeping man, and I saw a stud, the counterpartof the one on the dressing-table, fall on the bare boards with a sharptap, and disappear in the surrounding darkness. Then the woman felt theedge of the knife with her repulsive thumb, and calmly cut the helplessman's throat. I screamed--and the murderess and her victim instantlyvanished--and I realized I was alone in the room and very much awake. Whether all that had occurred was a dream, I cannot say with certainty, though I am inclined to think not. 

"For some minutes my heart pulsated painfully, and then as the sound ofits throbbing grew fainter and fainter, I heard a curious noise outsidemy room--someone was ascending the stairs. I endeavoured to rise, butcould not--fear, an awful, ungovernable fear, held me spellbound. Thesteps paused outside the door, the handle of which was gently turned. Then there was a suggestive silence, then whispering, then anotherturning of the handle, and then--my state of coma abruptly ended, and Istepped noiselessly out of bed and crept to the window. I was heard. 'Stop him, ' the woman cried out, 'he's trying to escape. Use the gun. 'She hurled herself against the door as she spoke, whilst the man toredownstairs. 

"It was now a matter of seconds, the slightest accident, a hesitation, and I was lost. Swinging open the window, I scrambled on the ledge, andwithout the slightest idea of the distance--dropped! There was a briefrushing through air and I alighted--safe and sound--on the snow. Blessed snow! Had it not been for the snow I should in all probabilityhave hurt myself! I alighted not an instant too soon, for hardly had Itouched the ground before my gigantic host came tearing round the angleof the wall with a lantern in one hand and gun in the other. Iimmediately dashed away, and, thanks to the intense darkness of themorning--for it must have been two o'clock--had no difficulty in evadingmy pursuer, who fired twice in rapid succession. 

"On and on I went, sometimes falling up to my armpits in the snowdrift, and sometimes stunning myself against a low-hanging branch of a tree. With the first rays of sunlight, however, my troubles came to an end. The snow had ceased falling, and I quickly alighted on a track, whichbrought me to a village, whence I obtained a conveyance into Liffre. 

"I reported the affair to the local police, and a party of gendarmes atonce set off to arrest the miscreants. But, alas, they had fled. Thehouse was pulled down, and, on the soil being excavated, a dozen or moreskeletons of men and women--all showing unmistakable signs of foulplay--together with the remains of a horse, were found in various partsof the premises. The place was a veritable Golgotha. I suppose thephantom horse and rider had appeared to me with the sole purpose ofmaking their fate known. If so, they at all events partly achieved theirend, though the mystery surrounding their identity was never solved. Allthe remains, both human and animal, were removed elsewhere, and accordeda decent burial. The site of their original interment, however, is, Ibelieve, still haunted, and maybe will remain so till the miscreants arebrought to book. "

_Brief Summary_

After a little consideration I am inclined to think there are quite asmany authentic cases of hauntings by the phantasms of horses as by thephantasms of cats and dogs. Innumerable horses die unnatural deaths. Apart from those killed in war, many, --more particularly, it is true, inthe olden times, --have been murdered in the highways along with theirmasters; whilst all but the comparative few, when no longer of use totheir owners, are butchered in the slaughter-house, and subsequentlydespatched to the Zoological Gardens, to be eaten by lions and tigers. So much for Christianity, and for man's gratitude. How much better wouldthe promoters of the White Slave Traffic Act be employed, if, --insteadof trying to pass a bill which obviously cannot cure the evil it aimsat, but can only, by diverting the course of that evil, drive frompillar to post thousands of defenceless, albeit erring women, --they wereto labour to secure a peaceful ending for our four-footed toilers, whowork for us all their lives, never strike, never think of a pension forold age, and never even dream of a vote. Alas! If only our poor horsescould vote, what a different attitude would our pharisaical politiciansat once adopt towards them!

_Phantasms of Living Horses_

From what I have experienced and have been told, I am of the opinionthat horses possess the same faculty of separating their immaterial fromtheir material bodies, as cats and dogs. I knew a Virginian lady who hada piebald horse that frequently appeared simultaneously in two places. She lived in an old country house near Winchfield, and one morning whenshe went into the breakfast-room, she was surprised to see the piebaldhorse standing on the gravel path, outside the window, looking in ather. When she called it by name, it immediately melted into fine air. Going round to the stables she found the horse in its stall, and onenquiry was informed that it had been there all the time. 

The same thing frequently occurred, other members of the householdbesides herself witnessing it, and so like, in all its details, was theimmaterial horse to the material, that they were often at a loss to tellwhich was which. The phenomenon sometimes occurring when the real horsewas awake, and sometimes when it was asleep, proves that the animalpossessed the faculty of projecting its spiritual ego--astral body, orwhatever you like to call it--both consciously and unconsciously. I knowof many similar instances. 

_Horses and the Psychic Faculty of Scent_

Horses, in a rather less degree than cats, and in much the same degreeas dogs, possess the property of scenting the advent and presence ofspirits. On more than one occasion, when I have been riding after dusk, my horse has suddenly come to an abrupt halt and shown unmistakablesigns of terror. I have not been able to see anything to account for itsconduct, but on subsequent enquiry have learned, either that a tragedywas actually known to have taken place there, or that the spot had longborne a reputation for being haunted. And my experiences are theexperiences of countless other people. 

Before a death a horse will often neigh repeatedly outside the house ofthe doomed person, and not infrequently show evidences of terror inpassing close to it, from which I deduce the horse can at all eventsscent the proximity of the phantom of death. Like the dog, however, Ithink it only possesses this peculiar psychic property in a limiteddegree. It can, for example, readily detect the whereabouts of phantasmshaunting localities, but not so easily those haunting people. 

It shows little or no discrimination on sight, between cruel and brutalpeople and those who are kind, giving the same amount of passing spaceto the one as it does to the other. Yet, on the other hand, I havewatched horses at night, standing in the fields, their heads thrownback, a transfixed, far-off expression in their eyes, sniffing theatmosphere--and snuffling it in a manner that strongly suggested to methey were carrying on, by means of some silent, secret code, aconversation with some superphysical presence, which they either saw orscented, very likely both. 

Scent, I am convinced, is the medium of conversation, not only betweensuperphysical animals, but between material animals, and if we ever wishto converse with spirits we must employ cats, dogs, and horses to teachus. 

_Phantom Coaches_

There are few parts of the British Isles--few countries in Europe--whichhave not their phantom coaches. Perhaps the most famous are those thathaunt a road near Newport, South Wales, and an old highway in Devon. 

_A Spectre Coach and Horses in Pembrokeshire_

Miss Mary L. Lewes, in an article called "Some More Welsh Ghosts, " thatappeared in the _Occult Review_ for December, 1907, writes thus:--

"In common with several other districts in Great Britain and Ireland, Pembrokeshire possesses a good 'phantom coach' legend, localized in thesouthern part of the county, at a place where four roads meet, calledSampson Cross. In old days the belated farmer driving home in his gigfrom market was apt to cast a nervous glance over his shoulder as hispony slowly climbed the last pitch leading up to the Cross. Fortradition says that every night a certain Lady Z. (who lived in theseventeenth century, and whose monument is in the church close by)drives over from Tenby, ten miles distant, in a coach drawn by headlesshorses, guided by a headless coachman. She also has no head, andarriving by midnight at Sampson Cross, the whole equipage is said todisappear in a flame of fire, with a loud noise of explosion. "

Miss Mary L. Lewes goes on to add:--

"A clergyman living in the immediate neighbourhood, who told the writerthe story, said that some people believed the ghostly traveller had beensafely 'laid' many years ago in the waters of the lake not far off. Headded, however that might be, it was an odd fact that his sedate andelderly cob, when driven home past the Cross after nightfall, wouldinvariably start as if frightened there, a thing which never happened bydaylight. "

What these kinds of spectral horses are no one can say. At themost--despite what theosophists and occultists may declare to thecontrary--one can only theorize--and the speculations of one person, behe who he may, seem to me to be of no more consequence than those ofanother. 

For my own part I am inclined to think that whereas, in some cases, theghostly coach horses are the phantoms of horses that were killed on thehighways, in others they are either Vice-Elementals, or Elementals whoseparticular function it is to prognosticate death, --either the death ofthose who see them, or the death of someone connected with those who seethem. 

_A Phantom Horse and Policeman_

According to one of my correspondents, Mr. T---- P----, a comparativelymodern phantom rider has been seen in Canada. Writing to me from C----, where he lives, he says: "It is stated that this town is periodicallyhaunted by the phantom of a tall, fair policeman mounted on a whitehorse and clothed in the uniform of the 'forties--namely, tail coat, tight trousers, and tall hat. His 'phantom' beat extends from a gatewayat the commencement of Cod Hill, along the Park side of Pablo Street toSutton Street, and Adam Street, down Dane Street, and back, throughPablo Street, to the gateway on Cod Hill. "

A gentleman well known in the art world, who, in order to avoidpublicity, wishes to be designated Mr. Bates, gave me his experience ofthe phenomena as follows:--

"Yes, I have seen the ghostly policeman and his milk-white horse. I waswalking along Pablo Street on the Park side, one grey afternoon inNovember, with the express intention of meeting a friend at my Club inRoyal Street, when to my surprise, just as I was about a hundred yardsfrom the gateway on Cod Hill, I was overtaken by a tall, fair-hairedman, riding a white horse. He was so dressed that I stared inastonishment. He was wearing the costume of seventy or eighty years ago, and reminded me of the policemen in Cruikshank's illustrations ofDickens. I was not frightened, because I thought he must be someonemasquerading; and, in my curiosity to see his face, I hastened my stepsto overtake him. I failed; for although he appeared to be riding slowly, hardly moving at all, I could not draw an inch nearer to him. This mademe think, and I examined him more critically. Then I noticed severalthings about him, that, at first, had escaped my notice. They werethese: (one) that although he was mounted he was wearing walkingclothes--he had on long trousers and thick, clumsy boots; (two) that hisears and neck were perfectly colourless, of an unnatural and startlingwhite; (three) that despite the incongruity of his attire, no one butmyself seemed to see him. On he rode, neither looking to the left nor tothe right, until he came to Sutton Street, when, without paying theslightest attention to the traffic, he began to cross over. There werecrowds of vehicles passing at the time, and one of them rushed right onhim. Making sure he would be killed, I uttered an ejaculation ofhorror. Judge, then, of my amazement, when, instead of seeing him lyingon the ground, crushed out of all shape, I saw him still riding on, asleisurely and unconcernedly as if he had been on a country road. THEVEHICLE HAD PASSED RIGHT THROUGH HIM. Though I had hitherto scoffed atghosts, I was now certain I had seen one, and suddenly becomingconscious how very cold it was, I tore on, not feeling at allcomfortable till I had reached the warm, cheery, and thoroughly materialquarters of my Club. "

To corroborate the evidence of "Mr. Bates, " I append a narrative givenme verbally by Miss Hartly, who, like Mr. Bates, had, up to the time ofher experience, posed as a pronounced and somewhat bitter sceptic. Shewas an emphatic freethinker, and had then no belief whatsoever in afuture life. Now she believes "a sight" more than most people. 

"One afternoon, in February, 1911, " she stated, "just as twilight wascommencing, I left the Park, where I had been exercising my dog, andturning into Pablo Street, made for Bright Street. At the corner of WolfStreet I saw something so strange that I involuntarily halted. Ridingslowly along on a big white horse, a few paces ahead of me, was anenormous policeman in the quaint attire of the 'forties--top hat, tailcoat, tight trousers, just as I had so often seen portrayed in oldbooks. He was riding stiffly, as if unaccustomed to the saddle, and keptlooking rigidly in front of him. Thinking it was someone doing it eitherfor a joke or a wager, I was greatly tickled, and kept saying to myself, 'Well, you are a sport, an A1 sport. ' I tried to catch him up, to seehow he made up his face, but could not, for although the horse neverseemed to quicken its pace--a mere crawl--and I ran, it neverthelessmaintained precisely the same distance in front of me. When we hadprogressed in this fashion some hundred or so yards, I perceived a Citypoliceman advancing towards us. 

"'Come, now, ' I said to myself, 'we shall see some fun--the 1911 coppermeeting the peeler of 1840. I wonder what he will think of him. '

"To my intense astonishment, however, neither even as much as gave theother a fleeting glance, but passed by unmoved, and, to all appearance, wholly unconscious of each other. 

"A few yards further, I espied a negro looking intently in a storewindow. Just as the strange policeman came up to him, he gave a violentstart, turned round and stared at him, gasped, his cheeks ashy pale, hiseyes bulging, made some exclamation I could not catch, and, dashing pastme, fled. Then, and not till then, did I begin to feel funny. Furtheron still we came to a crossing. A carriage and pair with a coronet onthe panels of the door was standing waiting. Directly the policemanapproached, both the horses reared so violently, they all but threw thecoachman off the box. One of the men cried out, 'Heavens, Bill, what'sthat?' But the other and older of the two, who was clinging to the reinswith all his might, merely swore. 

"Convinced now that I was on the trail of something not human--somethingin all probability superphysical, and, impelled by a fascination I couldnot resist, I followed. 

"At the top of Wolf Street the policeman paused, then crossing slowlyover, turned into Dane Street, down which he continued to ride with thesame mechanical and automatic tread. At length, when within a few feetof a certain shop, over which is a flat that has long borne a reputationfor being haunted, the horse came to a dead halt, and horse and rider, veering slowly round, looked at me. What I saw I shall never forget. Isaw the faces of the DEAD--the LONG SINCE dead. For some moments theyconfronted me, and then--vanished, vanished where they stood. I saw themagain, under precisely the same conditions, two days later, and I haveseen them once since. I am not an imaginative or highly-strung person, but am, on the contrary, exceedingly practical and matter-of-fact, nobetter proof of which I can give than this fact--I am engaged to bemarried to a Quebec solicitor!"

_An Irish Haunting_

Mr. Reginald B. Span, in a most interesting article called "SomeGlimpses of the Unseen, " that appeared in the _Occult Review_ forFebruary, 1906, writes as follows:--

"Another strange incident, which also occurred in Ireland, was told meby a coachman in my cousin's employ at Kilpeacon, near Limerick. Thisman had previously been a park-keeper to Lord Doneraile in Co. Cork. Onebright moonlight night, he was coming across Lord Doneraile's park, having been round to see that the gates were shut, when his attentionwas drawn to the distant baying of hounds, and he stopped to listen, asthe sounds seemed to proceed from within the park walls, and he knewthere were no hounds kept on the estate. His young son was with him, andalso heard the noise, which was getting louder and clearer, and wasevidently moving rapidly in their direction. His first idea was that apack of hounds which were kept in the hunting kennels a few miles away, had escaped and had somehow got into the park, although he had seen thatthe gates were closed, and there was really no way by which they couldhave entered. The baying of hounds, as if in 'full cry, ' sounded closerand closer, and suddenly, out of the shadow of some trees, a number offoxhounds, running at full speed, appeared in the clear light of themoon. They raced past the amazed spectators (a whole pack of them), followed closely by an elderly man on a large horse. Although they camevery near, no sound could be heard but the baying of one or two of thehounds. The galloping of the horse was not heard at all. They swungacross the grass at a tremendous pace, and were lost to view round theend of a plantation. The park-keeper knew that all the gates were shut, and that it would be impossible for a pack of hounds to pass out, and hethought the mystery might be solved the next day. However, it never wasexplained--by any natural cause. No hounds or horseman had been in thepark. The mansion was closed, Lord Doneraile being away, and no one hadthe right of entering the grounds within the park walls. He heard laterthat there was a story in the neighbourhood about 'the ghost' of aformer Lord Doneraile 'haunting' the park--and possibly the spectralhorseman was he. I questioned the man and his son closely about it, andam convinced they were not deceived by hallucination, and that theiraccount is perfectly true. "

To this account Mr. Span adds this note:--

"The apparition of hounds and huntsman was witnessed on an estatebelonging to Lord Doneraile, in the South of Ireland (Doneraile Park);the man who told me the incident was coachman in the service of mycousin, near Limerick. His young son confirmed his father's account, ashe also saw it. 

 "Yours faithfully, "REGINALD B. SPAN. "

To throw additional light on the matter Mr. Ralph Shirley, editor of the_Occult Review_, published the following letter, written to him by LordDoneraile:--

"DEAR SHIRLEY, "It is rather a curious thing that neither Lady Castletown nor LadyDoneraile has ever heard of the story of the moonlight vision of LordDoneraile and the pack of hounds. However, there is a man at Donerailecalled Jones, a chemist, who is a most enthusiastic antiquarian and adabbler in the occult sciences, and he takes the greatest interest inall that concerns the St. Legers. Lady Castletown wrote to him, and thereply comes from his brother (I suppose he is away), and that I sendyou. 

"Lady Doneraile says it must refer to the third Lord Doneraile of thefirst creation, who was killed in a duel afterwards; and there appear tobe a lot of stories which Jones has ferreted out or been told. Ofcourse, I don't know how far you could say Jones was authentic. All Ican say is that he believes the things himself. 

 "Yours sincerely, "DONERAILE. "

"_Dec. 27, 1905. _"

"I should explain, " adds Mr. Shirley, "that Lady Castletown is daughterto the late Lord Doneraile, and present owner of Doneraile House. Herefollows the enclosure, i. E. The extract made by Walter A. Jones, Doneraile, from his MS. Notes on the Legends of Peasantry in connectionwith Doneraile branch of the St. Leger family. Dated December 21, 1905. 

"I have heard, " so it runs, "the following story respecting the LordDoneraile, who pursues the chase from Ballydineen through Gloun-na-gothWilkinson's Lawn, through Byblox, across the ford of Shanagh ahaKeel-ahboobleen into Waskin's Glen into the old Deer Park at Old Court, thence into the Horse Close, and from thence into the park. He appearsto take particular delight in Wilkinson's Lawn according to tradition, for it was there that the noble stag was lost sight of, and of course itwas there he was most searched for. It was only last autumn that twogentlemen were going to a fair, as I heard, and leading a very finehorse behind the trap. The night being fine and moonlight, they stoppedat the iron gate there to light their pipes, when a gentleman dressed inold style, with buckskin leggings, walked through the iron gate, thoughclosed, and patted the led horse on the neck. They both agreed that hewas most like to gentlemen of the St. Leger family whom they had known. The Radiant Boy also appears here, and for years in the early part oflast century no one would pass there after nightfall. The LordDoneraile, who is believed by the peasantry to stand under LordDoneraile's Oak, it has been told me positively, was third Viscount. 

"There is an old man called Reardon here now who saw a gentleman ridinga powerful black horse along Lord Doneraile's route in the middle of theday, and his sister who was with him failed to see the horseman, thoughher brother had to pull her out of his way. 

"I went up to Saffron Hill last winter to see the ostrich-like ghostwhich is there, and I heard a great sweep as of hounds and horses goingpast me. Paddy Shea, late herd to Lord Doneraile, also would swear hesaw the phantom Lord Doneraile pursuing the chase often. I have heardthat James Mullaine also saw him in Wilkinson's Lawn, but have not anyfurther proof. 

"It is very few people will admit having seen these things. GeorgeBuckley, present keeper of the Doneraile Park, got a great fright onenight which might have been from the same cause. "

In this case it seems more than likely the huntsman, horse and houndswere all _bona fide_ phantasms of the dead. 

_Wild Darrell_

Littlecote, as everyone knows, is haunted by the spirits of thenotorious "Wild Will Darrell" and the horse he invariably rode, andwhich eventually broke his neck. 

But there are many Wild Darrells; all Europe is overrun by them. Theynightly tear, on their phantom horses, over the German and Norwegianforests and moor-lands that echo and re-echo with their hoarse shoutsand the mournful baying of their grisly hounds. 

Many travellers in Russia and Germany journeying through the forests atnight have caught the sound of wails, --of moans that, starting from thefar distance, have gradually come nearer and nearer. Then they haveheard the winding of a horn, the shouting and cursing of the huntsman, and in a biting cold wind have seen the whole cavalcade sweep by. 

According to various authorities on the subject this spectral chase goesby different names. In Thuringia and elsewhere, it is "Hakelnberg" or"Hackelnbarend, "--the story being that Hakelnberg, a German knight, whohad devoted his whole life to the chase, on his death-bed had told theofficiating priest that he cared not a jot for heaven, but only forhunting; the priest losing patience and exclaiming, "Then hunt tillDoomsday. "

So, in all weathers, in snow and ice, Hakelnberg, his horse and hounds, are seen careering after imaginary game. 

There are similar stories current in the Netherlands, Denmark, Russia, and practically all over Europe, and not only Europe, but in many of thestates and departments of the New World. This being so, I think theremust be a substantial substratum of truth underlying the beliefs, phantastic as they may appear, and yet, are no more phantastic than manyof the stories we are asked to give absolute credence to in the Bible. 

In Old Castile the spirit of a Moorish leader who won many victoriesover the Spaniards, and was drowned by reason of his heavy armour in aswamp of the River Duero, still haunts his burial-place, a piece ofmarshy ground, near Burgos. There, weird noises, such as the winding ofa huntsman's horn and the neighing of a horse, are heard, and thephantasm of the dead Moor is seen mounted on a white horse followed bytwelve huge, black hounds. 

In Sweden many of the peasants say, when a noise like that of a coachand horses is heard rumbling past in the dead of night, "It is the WhiteRider, " whilst in Norway they say of the same sounds, "It is the hunt ofthe Devil and his four horses. " In Saxony the rider is believed to beBarbarossa, the celebrated hero of olden days. Near Fontainebleau, HughCapet is stated to ride a gigantic sable horse to the palace, where hehunted before the assassination of Henry IV; and in the Landes the rideris thought to be Judas Iscariot. In other parts of France the wildhuntsman is known as Harlequin or Henequin, and in some parts ofBrittany he is "Herod in pursuit of the Holy Innocents. " (Alas, that nosuch Herod visits London! How welcome would he be, were he only to flouta few of the brawling brats who, allowed to go anywhere they please, make an inferno of every road they choose to play in. )

Here my notes on horses end; and although the evidence I have offeredmay have failed to convince many, I myself am fully satisfied that thesenoble and indispensable animals do not terminate their existence in thisworld, but pass on to another, and, let us all sincerely hope, farhappier, plane. 

CHAPTER IV

BULLS, COWS, PIGS, ETC. 

From the Hebrides there comes to me a case of the phantasm of a blackbull, that, on certain nights in the year, is heard bellowing inside theshed where it was killed. 

There are many accounts of ghostly cows heard "mooing" in the moors andbog-lands of Scotland and Ireland respectively, and not a few cases ofwhole herds of phantom cattle seen, gliding along, one behind the other, with silent, noiseless tread. Though I have never had the opportunity ofexperimenting with cows to see if they are sensitive to thesuperphysical, I see no reason why they should not be, and I feel quitecertain they will participate in "the future life. "

Apropos of pigs, Mr. Dyer, in his _Ghost World_, says, "Another form ofspectre animal is the kirk-grim, which is believed to haunt manychurches. Sometimes it is a pig, sometimes a horse, the haunting spectrebeing the spirit of an animal buried alive in the churchyard for thepurpose of scaring away the sacrilegious. "

Mr. Dyer goes on to say that it was the custom of the old Christianchurches to bury a lamb under the altar; and that if anyone entered achurch out of service time and happened to see a little lamb springacross the choir and vanish, it was a sure prognostication of the deathof some child; and if this apparition was seen by the grave-digger thedeath would take place immediately. Mr. Dyer also tells us that theDanish kirk-grim was thought to hide itself in the tower of a church inpreference to any other place, and that it was thought to protect thesacred buildings. According to the same writer, in the streets ofKroskjoberg, a grave sow, or, as it was called, a "gray-sow, " wasfrequently seen, and it was said to be the apparition of a sow formerlyburied alive; its appearance foretelling death or calamity. 

_Phantasm of a Goat_

Mrs. Crowe, in her _Night Side of Nature_, relates one case of a housenear Philadelphia, U. S. A. , that was haunted by a variety of phenomena, among others that of a spectre resembling a goat. 

"Other extraordinary things happened in the house, " she writes, "whichhad the reputation of being haunted, although the son had not believedit, and had thereupon not mentioned the report to the father. 

"One day the children said they had been running after 'such a queerthing in the cellar; it was like a goat, and not like a goat, but itseemed to be like a shadow. '"

This explanation does not appear to be very satisfactory, but as I haveheard of one or two other cases of premises being haunted by what, undoubtedly, were the phantasms of goats, I think it highly probable itwas the ghost of a goat in this instance, too. 

_The Phantom Pigs of the Chiltern Hills_

A good many years ago there was a story current of an extraordinaryhaunting by a herd of pigs. The chief authority on the subject was afarmer, who was an eye-witness of the phenomena. I will call him Mr. B. 

Mr. B. , as a boy, lived in a small house called the Moat Grange, whichwas situated in a very lonely spot near four cross-roads, connectingfour towns. 

The house, deriving its name from the fact that a moat surrounded it, stood near the meeting point of the four roads, which was the site of agibbet, the bodies of the criminals being buried in the moat. 

Well, the B----s had not been living long on the farm, before they wereawakened one night by hearing the most dreadful noises, partly human andpartly animal, seemingly proceeding from a neighbouring spinney, and ongoing to a long front window overlooking the cross-roads, they saw anumber of spotted creatures like pigs, screaming, fighting and tearingup the soil on the site of the criminals' cemetery. 

The sight was so unexpected and alarming that the B----s were appalled, and Mr. B. Was about to strike a light on the tinder-box, when the mostdiabolical white face was pressed against the outside of the window-paneand stared in at them. 

This was the climax, the children shrieked with terror, and Mrs. B. , falling on her knees, began to pray, whereupon the face at the windowvanished, and the herd of pigs, ceasing their disturbance, torefrantically down one of the high roads, and disappeared from view. 

Similar phenomena were seen and heard so frequently afterwards, that theB----s eventually had to leave the farm, and subsequent enquiries ledto their learning that the place had long borne the reputation of beinghaunted, the ghosts being supposed to be the earth-bound spirits of theexecuted criminals. Whether this was so or not must, of course, be amatter of conjecture--the herd of hogs may well have been the phantasmsof actual earth-bound pigs--attracted to the spot by a sort offellow-feeling for the criminals, whose gross and carnal natures wouldno doubt appeal to them. 

A lane in Hertfordshire was--and, perhaps, still is--haunted by thephantasm of a big white sow which had accidentally been run over andkilled. It was occasionally heard grunting, and had the unpleasant knackof approaching one noiselessly from the rear, and of making the mostunearthly noise just behind one's back. 

_Sheep_

Lambs and sheep, possessing finer natures than goats and pigs, wouldappear to be less earth-bound, and, in all probability, only temporarilyhaunt the spots that witnessed their usually barbarous ends. 

Most slaughter-houses are haunted by them--as, indeed, by many otheranimals. A Scottish moor long bore the reputation for being haunted by aphantom flock of sheep, which were always heard "baaing" plaintivelybefore a big storm. 

It was supposed they were the ghosts of a flock that had perished inthe memorable severe weather of Christmas, 1880. Here is a case that maybe regarded as typical of hauntings by sheep, presumably the earth-boundspirits of sheep, overwhelmed in some great storm or unexpectedcatastrophe. 

"_The Spectre Flock of Sheep in Germany_"

"During the seven years' war in Germany, " writes Mrs. Crowe, in her_Night Side of Nature_, "a drover lost his life in a drunken squabble onthe high road. 

"For some time there was a sort of rude tombstone, with a cross on it, to mark the spot where his body was interred, but this has long fallen, and a milestone now fills its place. Nevertheless, it continues to becommonly asserted by the country people, and also by various travellers, that they have been deluded on that spot by seeing, as they imagine, herds of beasts, which on investigation prove to be merely visionary. Ofcourse, many people look upon this as a superstition; but a very regularconfirmation of the story occurred in the year 1826, when two gentlemenand two ladies were passing the spot in a post-carriage. One of thesewas a clergyman, and none of them had ever heard of the phenomenon saidto be attached to the place. They had been discussing the prospects ofthe minister, who was on his way to a vicarage, to which he had justbeen appointed, when they saw a large flock of sheep, which stretchedquite across the road, and was accompanied by a shepherd and along-haired black dog. As to meet cattle on that road was nothinguncommon, and indeed they had met several droves in the course of oneday, no remark was made at the moment, till suddenly each looked at theother, and said, 'What's become of the sheep?' Quite perplexed at theirsudden disappearance, they called to the postilion to stop, and all gotout, in order to mount the little elevation and look around, but stillunable to discover them, they now bethought themselves of asking thepostilion where they were; when, to their infinite surprise, theylearned that he had not seen them. Upon this, they bade him quicken hispace, that they might overtake a carriage that had passed them shortlybefore, and enquire if that party had seen the sheep; but they had not. 

"Four years later a postmaster, named J. , was on the same road, drivinga carriage, in which were a clergyman and his wife, when he saw a largeflock of sheep near the same spot. Seeing they were very fine wethers, and supposing them to have been bought at a sheep-fair that was thentaking place a few miles off, J. Drew up his reins and stopped hishorses, turning at the same time to the clergyman to say that he wantedto enquire the price of the sheep, as he intended going next day to thefair himself. Whilst the minister was asking him what sheep he meant, J. Got down and found himself in the midst of the animals, the size andbeauty of which astonished him. They passed him at an unusual rate, whilst he made his way through them to find the shepherd; when, ongetting to the end of the flock, they suddenly disappeared. He thenfirst learnt that his fellow-travellers had not seen them at all. "

So writes Mrs. Crowe, and I quote the case in support of my argumentthat sheep, like horses, cats, dogs and all other kinds of animals, possess spirits, and consequently have a future state of existence. 

I have not yet experimented with sheep, goats, or pigs, but I do notdoubt but that they are more or less sensitive to superphysicalinfluences, and possess the psychic faculty of scenting theUnknown--though not, perhaps, in so great a degree as any of the otheranimals I have enumerated. 

PART II

WILD ANIMALS AND THE UNKNOWN

CHAPTER V

WILD ANIMALS AND THE UNKNOWN

_Apes_

The following case of animal hauntings was recorded in automaticwriting:--

"I sank wearily into my easy chair before the fire, which burned with afitful and sullen glow in the tiny grate of my one room--bare anddesolate as only the room of an unsuccessful author can be. 

"My condition was pitiable. For the past twelve months I had not earneda cent, and of my small capital there now remained but two pounds toward the hound of starvation from my door. In the moonlight I couldperceive all the bareness of the apartment. Would to God Fancy wouldride to me on this moonbeam and give me inspiration! 'Twas indeedweird--this silver ethereal path connecting the moon with the earth, andthe more I gazed along it, the more I wished to leave my body and escapeto the star-lighted vaults. Certainly, from a conversation I had oncehad with a member of the New Occult Society, I believed it possible byconcentrating all the mental activities in one channel, so to overcomethe barriers which prevent the soul visiting scenes of the etherealworld, as to pass materialized to the spot upon which the ideas arefixed. But although I had essayed--how many times I do not like toconfess--to gain that amount of concentration necessary for theseparation of the soul from the body, up to the present all my attemptshad been fruitless. Doubtless there had been a something--too minuteeven for definition--that had interrupted my self-abstraction--asomething that had wrecked my venture, just when I felt it to be on theverge of completion. And was it likely that now, when my ideas weremisty and vague, I should be more successful? I wanted to quit the cruelbonds of nature and be free--free to roam and ramble. But where?

"At length, as I gazed into the moonlight, I lost all cognizance of theobjects around me, and my eyes became fixed on the mountains of themoon, which I discovered, with a start, were no longer specks. I found, to my amazement, I had left my body and was careering swiftly throughspace--infinite space. The range opened up in front of me, spreading outfar and wide, winding, black and awful--their solemn grandeur lost inthat terrible desolation which makes the moon appear like a hideousnightmare. I could see with amazing clearness the sides of themountains; there were enormous black fissures, some of them hundreds offeet in width--and the more I gazed the more impressed I grew with thesilence. There was no life. There were no seas, no lakes, no trees, nograss, no sighing nor moaning of the wind, nothing to remind me of theearth I now found to my terror I had actually quitted. Everything aroundme was black--the sky, the mountains, the vast pits, the dried-up mouthsof which gaped dismally. 

"With the movements of a man in a fit, I essayed to hinder the finis ofmy mad plunge. I waved my limbs violently, kicking out and shrieking inthe agonies of fear. I cursed and prayed, wept and laughed alternately, did everything, yet nothing, that could save me from contact with thelone desert so horribly close. Nearer and nearer I approached, until atlast my feet rested on the hard caked soil. For the first few minutesafter my arrival I was too overwhelmed with fear to do other than remainstationary. The ground beneath my feet swarmed with myriads of foul andlong-legged insects, things with unwieldy pincers and protruding eyes;things covered with scaly armour; hybrids of beetles and scorpions. Ihave a distinct recollection of one huge-jointed centipede making avicious grab at my leg; he failed to make his teeth meet in anythingtangible, and emitting a venomous hiss disappeared in a circular pit. 

"Whilst I was the victim of this insect's ferocity the horizon hadbecome darkened by the shadowy outline of an enormous apish form. Iwanted to run away, but could not, and was compelled, sorely against mywill, to witness its approach. Never shall I forget the agonies of doubtI endured during its advance. No man in a tiger's den, nor deer tied toa tree awaiting its destroyer, could have suffered more than I did then, and my terror increased tenfold when I recognized in themonster--Neppon--a young gorilla that had been under my charge and hadgiven me no end of trouble when I was head keeper in the ZoologicalGardens at Berne. 

"I never hated anything so much as I had hated that baboon. At my handsit had undergone a thousand subtle torments. I had pinched it, poked it, pulled its hair, frightened it by putting on masks and making all sortsof queer noises, and finally I had secretly poisoned it. And now westood face to face without any bars between us. Never shall I forget thelook of intense satisfaction in its hideous eyes, as its gazeencountered mine. 

"In that strange forlorn world we faced each other; I, the tyrant once, now the quarry. In the wildness of its glee it capered about like a madthing, executing the most exaggerated antics that augmented my terror. Every second I anticipated an assault, and the knowledge of my fearslent additional fierceness to its gambols. A sudden change in myattitude at length made it cease. The use had returned to my limbs; mymuscles were quivering, and before it could stop me I had fled! Thewildest of chases then ensued. I ran with a speed that would have shameda record-beater on earth. With extraordinary nimbleness I vaulted overtitanic boulders of rocks; jumped across dykes of infinite depth, scurried like lightning over tracts of rough, lacerating ground, andnever for one instant felt like flagging. 

"Suddenly, to my horror, I came to an abrupt standstill, and the cry ofsome hunted animal burst from my lips. Unwittingly I had run against ahuge wall of granite, and escape was now impossible. Again and again Iclawed the hard rock, until the skin hung in shreds from my fingers, andthe blood pattered on the dark soil, that in all probability had nevertasted moisture before. All this amused my pursuer vastly; it watchedwith the leisure of one who knows its fish will be landed in safety, andthere suddenly came to me, through my olfactory nerves, a knowledge thatit was speaking to me in the language of scents--the language I neverunderstood till now was the language of all animals. 

"'Reach, a little higher, ' it said; 'there are niches up there, and youmust stretch your limbs. Ha! ha! Do you remember how you used to make mestretch mine? You do! Well, you needn't shiver. Explain to me how it isI find you here. '

"'I cannot comprehend, ' I gasped with a gesticulation that wasgrotesque. 

"The great beast laughed in my face. 'How so?' it queried. 'You used toquibble me upon my dull wits; must I now return the compliment? Ha!There's blood on your hands. Blood! I will lick it up. ' And with amocking grin it advanced. 

"'Keep off! Keep off!' I shouted. 'My God, will this dream never cease?'

"'The dream, as you call it, ' the gorilla jeered, 'has only just begun;the climax of your horrors has yet to come. If you cannot tell me thepurport of your visit I will tell you mine. Can your lordship spare thetime to listen?'

"I gave no answer. I clutched the wall and uttered incoherent cries likesome frightened madman. 

"The gorilla felt the muscles in its hairy fingers, and showed its hugeteeth. I looked eagerly at my enemy. 

"'Come, you haven't yet guessed my riddle; you are dull to-night, ' itsaid lightly. 'That old wine of yours made you sleep too soundly. Don'tlet me disturb you. I will explain. This moon is now my home--I share itwith the spirits of all the animals and insects that were once on yourearth. And now that we are free from such as you--free to wanderanywhere we like without fear of being shot, or caught and caged--we arehappy. And what makes us still happier is the knowledge that themajority of men and women will never have a joyous after-state likeours. They will be earth-bound in that miserable world of theirs, andcompelled to keep to their old haunts, scaring to death with their uglyfaces all who have the misfortune to see them. There is another fate instore for you, however. Do you know what it is?'

"It paused. No sound other than that occasioned by his bumping on thesoil broke the impressive hush. 

"'Do you know?' it said again. 'Well, I will tell you. I'm going to killyou right away, so that your spirit--it's all nonsense to talk aboutsouls, such as you have no soul--will be earth-bound here--here forever--and will be a perpetual source of amusement to all of us animalghosts. '

"It then began to jabber ferociously, and, crouching down, prepared tospring. 

"'For Heaven's sake, ' I shrieked, 'for Heaven's sake. '

"But I might as well have appealed to the wind. It had no sense ofmercy. 

"'He, he!' it screamed. 'What a joke--what a splendid joke. Your witnever seems to degenerate, Hugesson! I'm wondering if you will be asfunny when you're a ghost. Get ready. I'm coming, coming, ' and as thesky deepened to an awe-inspiring black, and the stars grew larger, brighter, fiercer; and the great lone deserts appealed to me with aforce unequalled before, it sprang through the air. 

"A singing in my ears and a great bloody mist rose before my eyes. Thewailing and screeching of a million souls was borne in loud protractedechoings through the drum of my ears. Men and women with evil faces roseup from crag and boulder to spit and tear at me. I saw creatures of suchdamning ugliness that my soul screamed aloud with terror. And then fromthe mountain tops the bolt of heaven was let loose. Every spirit wasswept away like chaff before the burst of wind that, hurling andshrieking, bore down upon me. I gave myself up for lost. I felt all theagonies of suffocation, my lungs were torn from my palpitating body; mylegs wrenched round in their sockets; my feet whirled upwards in thatgust of devilish air. All--excruciating, damning pain--and _protempore_--I knew no more. "

 * * * * *

N. B. --It was subsequently ascertained, by my friend the late Mr. Supton, that a man named Hugesson, who had been for a short time head keeper atthe Zoological Gardens, had been found dead, in bed, by his landlady, with a look on his face so awful that she had fled shrieking from theroom. The death was, of course, attributed to syncope, but myfriend--who, by the way, had never heard of Hugesson before he receivedthe foregoing account through the medium of planchette--told me, and Iagreed with him, that from similar cases that had come within hisexperience, it was most probable that Hugesson had in reality projectedhimself, and had perished in the manner described. 

No more improbable than the above story is that sent me by my old schoolfriend Martin Tristram, who died last year. 

I style it "The Case of Martin Tristram. " It is reproduced from amagazine published some three years ago. 

After Martin Tristram once took up spiritualism his visits to me becamemost erratic, and I not only never knew when to expect him, but I wasnot always sure, when he did come, that it was he. 

This sounds extraordinary--to see a man is assuredly to recognize him!Not always--by no means always!

There are circumstances in which a man loses his identity, when his"ego" is supplanted by another ego, when he ceases to be himself, andassumes an individuality which is entirely different from himself. 

This is undoubtedly the case in madness, imbecility, epilepsy, so-calledtotal loss of memory through cerebral injury, hypnotism, sometimes inprojection when the astral body gets detained, and also not infrequentlyin investigating peculiar instances of psychic phenomena. 

But if the astral body has been evicted from its carnal home, whitherhas it gone? and what is the nature of the thing that has taken itsplace?

Ah! These are indeed puzzles--puzzles I am devoting a lifetime to solve. 

There have been moments when unseen hands have gradually begun to pullaside the obscuring veil, when the identity of the usurping spirit hasseemed on the verge of being disclosed to me, and I have been about tobe initiated into the greatest and most zealously guarded of allsecrets. 

There have been times, I say, when my occult researches have actuallybrought me to this climax; but up to the present I have invariably beendisappointed--the curtain has suddenly fallen, the esoteric ego hasshrunk into its shell, and the mystery surrounding it has remainedimpenetrable. 

This is but one, albeit perhaps the most striking, of the many methodsthrough which the superphysical endeavours to get in immediate contactwith the physical. 

I was unpleasantly reminded of it when Martin Tristram's carnal bodycame to visit me one night several years ago. I was aware that it wasnot Tristram. His mannerisms were the same, his voice had not altered;but there was an expression in his eyes that told of a very differentspirit from Martin's dwelling within that body. 

The night being cold, he closed the door carefully, and crossing theroom to where I sat by the fire, threw himself in an easy chair, andgazed meditatively at me. 

My rooms in Bloomsbury were not lonely. They had more than their shareof "brawling brats" on either side; there were no gloomy recesses orghost-suggestive cupboards, and I never once experienced in them theslightest apprehension of sudden superphysical manifestations, yet Icannot help saying that as I met that glance from the pseudo-Tristram'seyes I felt my flesh begin to creep. 

He sat for so long in silence that I began to wonder if he ever meant tospeak. 

"The secret of success in seeing certain classes of apparitions, " hesaid at length, "to a very great extent lies in sympathy. Sympathy! Andnow for my story. I will tell it to you in the 'third person. '"

I looked at Tristram's face in dismay. "The third person!"

"Yes, the third person, " he gravely rejoined, "and under thecircumstances the only person. You see it is now close on midnight. "

I looked at the clock. Great heavens! What he said was correct. A wholeevening had slipped by without my knowledge. He would, of course, haveto stay the night. I suggested it to him. 

"My dear fellow, " he replied, with an odd smile, "don't worry about me. I am not dependent on any trains. I shall be home by two o'clock. "

I shivered--a draught of cold air had in all probability stolen throughthe cracks of the ill-fitting window-frames. 

"You have on one of your queer moods, Martin, " I expostulated. "To behome by two o'clock you must fly! But proceed--at all costs, the story. "

Tristram raised an eyebrow, a true sign that something of specialinterest would follow. 

"You know Bruges?" he began. 

I nodded. 

"Very well, then, " he went on. "Exactly a week ago Martin Tristramarrived there from Antwerp. The hour was late, the weather boisterous, Tristram was tired, and any lodging was better than none. 

"Hailing a four-wheeler, he asked the Jehu to drive him to some decenthostel where the sheets were clean and the tariff moderate; and thefellow, gathering up the reins, took him at a snail's pace to amediæval-looking tavern in La Rue Croissante. You remember that street?Perhaps not! It is quite a back street, extremely narrow, very tortuous, and miserably lighted with a few gas-lamps of the usual antique Belgianorder. 

"Tristram was too tired, however, to be fastidious; he felt he could liedown and go to sleep anywhere, and what scruples he might have had wereentirely dissipated by the appearance of the charming girl who answeredthe door. 

"It is not expedient to dwell upon her--she plays a very minor part, if, indeed, any, in the story. Martin Tristram merely thought her pretty, and that, as I have said, fully reconciled him to taking up his quartersin the house. 

"He has, as you are doubtless aware, a weakness for vivid colouring, andher bright yellow hair, carmine lips, and scarlet stockings struck himimpressively as she led the way to his bed-chamber, where she somewhatreluctantly parted from him with a subtly attractive smile. 

"Left to himself, Martin sleepily examined his surroundings. The room, oak-panelled throughout, was long, low, and gloomy; an enormous, old-fashioned, empty fireplace occupied the centre of one of the walls;on the one side of it was an oak settee, on the other an equallyponderous black oak chest. 

"Heavy oaken beams traversed the ceiling, and the sombre, funerealcharacter of the room was further increased by a colossal and antiquefour-poster which, placed in the exact middle of the chamber, faced agigantic mirror attached to grotesquely carved and excessively loftysable supports. 

"Viewed in the feeble, fluctuating candlelight, the latter seemedendowed with some peculiar and emphatically weird life--theirglistening, polished surfaces threw a dozen and one fantastic but oddlyhuman shadows on the boards, as at the same time they appeared inbewildering alternation to increase and diminish in stature. 

"Tristram hastily undressed, and stretching himself between theblankets, prepared to go to sleep. Like yourself, and for a similarreason, he never sleeps on his left side. Accordingly he occupied theright portion only of the enormous bed. 

"Why he did not fall asleep at once he could not explain; he fanciedthat it might be because he was overtired. This undoubtedly hadsomething to do with it, as also had the remarkable noises--footfalls, creaks, and sighs--that came from every corner of the apartment themoment the light was out. 

"He listened to these inexplicable sounds with increasing alarm untilthe sonorous clock from somewhere outside boomed 'one, ' when, quiteunaccountably, he fell asleep, awaking on the stroke of two from adreadful nightmare. 

"To his intense astonishment and consternation he was no longer alone inthe bed--someone, or something, was lying by his side on the left-handside of the bed. 

"At first his thoughts reverted to the young lady with the scarletstockings; then, a sensation of icy coldness, whilst speedily reassuringhim with regard to her, struck him with the utmost terror. Who or whatcould it be?

"For some seconds he lay in breathless silence, too frightened even tostir, and panic-stricken lest the violent beating of his heart shouldarouse the mysterious visitor. But at length, impelled by anirresistible impulse, he sat up in bed and opened his eyes. The roomwas aglow with a phosphorescent light, and in the depths of theglittering mirror he saw a startling reproduction of the phantasmagoricfour-poster. 

"He instinctively felt that there was some extraordinary change in thesupports, and that the suspicions he had at first entertained as totheir semi-human properties had become verified; but, mercifully for hissanity, he found it impossible to look. His attention was immediatelyriveted on the object by his side, which he recognized with a thrill ofsurprise was a bronzed and bearded man of rather more than middle age, who appeared to be buried in the most profound sleep. 

"The picture was so vividly portrayed in the glass that Tristram couldsee the gentle heaving of the bedclothes each time the sleeper breathed. 

"Fascinated beyond measure at such an unlooked-for spectacle, anddesirous of a closer inspection, Tristram, with a supreme effort, managed to tear away his eyes from the mirror and to glance at the bed, where, to his unmitigated astonishment, he saw no one. 

"Quite unable to know what to make of the phenomenon, he again directedhis gaze to the glass, and there right enough lay the sleeper. 

"A cold shudder now ran through Tristram--he could no longer disguisefrom himself what he had in reality thought all along, that the room washaunted!

"The usual symptoms accompanying occult manifestations rapidly madethemselves known. Tristram was constrained to stare at the luminousglitter before him in helpless expectation; to save his soul he couldneither have stirred nor uttered the faintest ejaculation. He saw in themirror the door of the bedroom slowly open, and a hideous, apish facepeep stealthily in, not at him, but at the sleeper. 

"Next he watched a figure, brown, hairy and lurid--the figure of somehuge monkey--come crawling into the room on all-fours, and followed eachof its tell-tale movements as, sidling up to its sleeping victim, itsuddenly hurled itself at him, choking him to death with its longfingers. 

"This was the climax--Tristram saw no more. The phosphorescent lightdied out, the mirror darkened, and on sinking back on his pillow, herealized with the wildest delight he was once again alone--his bedfellowhad gone!

"Tristram was so unnerved by all that had happened that he made up hismind to leave the house at daybreak, a decision which, however, wasaltered on the appearance of the sun and the charming little girl inthe red stockings. 

"After breakfasting, Tristram strolled about the town, chancing to meetan old school-fellow, named Heriot, in the Rue de Mermadotte. 

"Heriot had only recently come to Bruges; he was dissatisfied with hislodgings, and readily fell in with Tristram's suggestion that theyshould 'dig' together. 

"The maid with the yellow hair was more pleasing than ever, Heriot felldesperately in love with her, and it was close on midnight before hecould be persuaded to bid her good night and accompany Tristram to thebed-chamber. 

"'I wonder why she told me not to sleep on the left side of the bed?' hesaid to Martin, as they began to undress. 

"Tristram glanced guiltily at the mirror. For reasons of his own hehadn't as much as hinted to Heriot what he had seen there the previousnight, and he was not at all sure now that it might not have been anightmare or an hallucination; anyhow, he would like to put it to thetest before mentioning it to anyone, and Heriot, whom he knew to be asceptic with regard to ghosts, was so strong and hale a man physicallythat, happen what might, he had no apprehensions whatever concerninghim. 

"Regretting that he was obliged to disobey the wishes of a lady, Heriotdeclared his preference for the left side of the bed, adding that if themaiden was so highly enamoured of him, she must put herself to theinconvenience of a few extra yards. 'Infatuation like hers, ' hemaintained, 'should surely overcome all obstacles. '

"Nothing loth, Tristram gave in to him, and before many minutes hadelapsed both men had fallen into a deep sleep. 

"On the stroke of two Tristram awoke, perspiring horribly. The room wasonce again aglow with a phosphorescent light, and he felt the presencenext to him of something cold and clammy. 

"Unable to look elsewhere, he was again compelled to gaze in the mirror, where he saw, to his consternation and horror, no Heriot, but in hisplace the man with the bronzed face and bushy beard. 

"He had hardly recovered from the shock occasioned by this discoverywhen the door surreptitiously opened, and the figure of the ape glidednoiselessly in. 

"Again he was temporarily paralysed, his limbs losing all their power ofaction and his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth. 

"The movements of the phantasm were entirely repetitionary of theprevious night. Approaching the bed on 'all-fours, ' it leapt on itsvictim, the tragedy being accompanied this time by the most realisticchokings and gurgles, to all of which Tristram was obliged to listen inan agony of doubt and terror. The drama ended, Tristram was overcome bya sudden fit of drowsiness, and sinking back on to his pillow, slepttill broad daylight. 

"Anxious to question Heriot as to whether he, too, had been a witness ofthe ghostly transaction he touched him lightly on the shoulder. Therewas no reply. He touched him again, and still no answer. He touched himyet a third time, and as there was still no response, he leaned over hisshoulder and peered into his face. 

"Heriot was dead!"

 * * * * *

"'This is the fourth death in that bed within the last twelve monthsthat I can swear to, ' the English doctor remarked to Tristram, as theywalked down the street together, 'and always from the same cause, failure of the heart due to a sudden shock. If you take my advice, you'll clear out of the place at once. '

"Tristram thought so too, but before he went he had a talk with thegirl in the red stockings. 

"'I can't tell you all I know, ' she said to him, as he kissed her; 'butI wouldn't sleep a night in that room for a fortune, though I believeit's quite safe if you keep on the right side of the bed. I wish yourfriend had done so, he was so handsome, ' and Tristram, not a littlehurt, let go her hand, and made arrangements for the funeral. "

 * * * * *

"And is that all?" I asked, as Tristram's material body paused. 

"It may be, " was the reply, "but that is why I've come to you. Don't begulled by Tristram into any investigations in that house. Enthusiasm forhis research work makes him unconsciously callous, and if he once gotyou there he might, even against your better judgment, persuade you tosleep on the left side! Good night!"

I shook hands with him and he departed. The following evening I heard itall again from Tristram himself--the real Tristram. 

Needless to say, his concluding remarks differed essentially. Withunbounded cordiality he urged me to accompany him back again to Bruges, and I--declined!

 * * * * *

He wrote to me afterwards to say that he had discovered the history ofthe house--a man, a music-hall artist, answering to the description ofthe figure in the bed--had once lived there with a performing ape, anorang-outang, and happening to annoy the animal one day, the latter hadkilled him. The brute was eventually shot!

"This experience of mine, " Tristram added, "is of the greatest value, for it has thoroughly convinced me of one thing at least--and that--thatapes have spirits! And if that be so, so must all other kinds ofanimals. Of course they must. "

_Phantasms of Cat and Baboon_

A sister of a well-known author tells me there used to be a house called"The Swallows, " standing in two acres of land, close to a village nearBasingstoke. 

In 1840 a Mr. Bishop of Tring bought the house, which had long stoodempty, and went to live there in 1841. After being there a fortnight twoservants gave notice to leave, stating that the place was haunted by alarge cat and a big baboon, which they constantly saw stealing down thestaircases and passages. They also testified to hearing sounds as ofsomebody being strangled, proceeding from an empty attic near wherethey slept, and of the screams and groans of a number of people beinghorribly tortured in the cellars just underneath the dairy. On going tosee what was the cause of the disturbances, nothing was ever visible. Byand by other members of the household began to be harassed by similarmanifestations. The news spread through the village, and crowds ofpeople came to the house with lights and sticks, to see if they couldwitness anything. 

One night, at about twelve o'clock, when several of the watchers werestationed on guard in the empty courtyard, they all saw the forms of ahuge cat and a baboon rise from the closed grating of the large cellarunder the old dairy, rush past them, and disappear in a dark angle ofthe walls. The same figures were repeatedly seen afterwards by manyother persons. Early in December, 1841, Mr. Bishop, hearing fearfulscreams, accompanied by deep and hoarse jabberings, apparently comingfrom the top of the house, rushed upstairs, whereupon all was instantlysilent, and he could discover nothing. After that, Mr. Bishop set towork to get rid of the house, and was fortunate enough to find as apurchaser a retired colonel, who was soon, however, scared out of it. This was in 1842; it was soon after pulled down. The ground was usedfor the erection of cottages; but the hauntings being transferred tothem, they were speedily vacated, and no one ever daring to inhabitthem, they were eventually demolished, the site on which they stoodbeing converted into allotments. 

There were many theories as to the history of "The Swallows"; one beingthat a highwayman, known as Steeplechase Jock, the son of a Scottishchieftain, had once plied his trade there and murdered many people, whose bodies were supposed to be buried somewhere on or near thepremises. He was said to have had a terrible though decidedly unorthodoxending--falling into a vat of boiling tar, a raving madman. But whatwere the phantasms of the ape and cat? Were they the earth-bound spiritsof the highwayman and his horse, or simply the spirits of two animals?Though either theory is possible, I am inclined to favour the former. 

_Psychic Bears_

Edmund Lenthal Swifte, appointed in 1814 Keeper of the Crown Jewels inthe Tower of London, refers in an article in _Notes and Queries_, 1860, to various unaccountable phenomena happening in the Tower during hisresidence there. He says that one night in the Jewel Office, one of thesentries was alarmed by a figure like a huge bear issuing fromunderneath the Jewel Room door. He thrust at it with his bayonet, which, going right through it, stuck in the doorway, whereupon he dropped in afit, and was carried senseless to the guard-room. When on the morrow Mr. Swifte saw the soldier in the guard-room, his fellow-sentinel was alsothere, and the latter testified to having seen his comrade, before thealarm, quiet and active, and in full possession of his faculties. He wasnow, so Mr. Swifte added, changed almost beyond recognition, and diedthe following day. 

Mr. George Offer, in referring to this incident, alludes to queer noiseshaving been heard at the time the figure appeared. Presuming that thesentinel was not the victim of an hallucination, the question arises asto the kind of spirit that he saw. The bear, judging by cases that havebeen told me, is by no means an uncommon occult phenomenon. Thedifficulty is how to classify it, since, upon no question appertainingto the psychic, can one dogmatize. To quote from a clever poem thatappeared in the January number of the _Occult Review_, to pretend oneknows anything definite about the immaterial world is all "swank". Atthe most we--Parsons, Priests, Theosophists, Christian Scientists, Psychical Research Professors, --at the most can only speculate. Nothing--nothing whatsoever, beyond the bare fact that there arephenomena, unaccountable by physical laws, has as yet been discovered. All the time and energy and space that have been devoted by scientiststo the investigation of spiritualism and to making tests in automaticwriting are, in my opinion--and, I believe, I speak for the man in thestreet--hopelessly futile. No one, who has ever really experiencedspontaneous ghostly manifestations, could for one moment believe in thegenuineness of the phenomena produced at séances. They have neverdeceived me, and I am of the opinion spirits cannot be convoked toorder, either through a so-called medium falling into a so-calledtrance, through table-turning, automatic writing, or anything else. If aspirit comes, it will come either voluntarily, or in obedience to someUnknown Power--and certainly neither to satisfy the curiosity of a crowdof sensation-loving men and women, nor to be analysed by some cold, calculating, presumptuous Professor of Physics whose proper sphere isthe laboratory. 

But to proceed. The phenomenon of the big bear, provided again it wasreally objective, may have been the phantasm of some prehistoriccreature whose bones lie interred beneath the Tower; for we know theValley of the Thames was infested with giant reptiles and quadrupeds ofall kinds (I incline to this theory); or it may have been aVice-Elemental, or--the phantasm of a human being who lived a purelyanimal life, and whose spirit would naturally take the form most closelyresembling it. 

 * * * * *

Judging by the number of experiences related to me, hauntings by phantomhares and rabbits would appear to be far from uncommon. There is thisdifference, however, between the hauntings by the two species ofanimal--phantom hares usually portend death or some grave catastrophe, either to the witness himself, or to someone immediately associated withhim; whereas phantom rabbits are seldom prophetic, and may generally belooked upon merely as the earth-bound spirits of some poor rabbits thathave met with untimely ends. 

_Hauntings by a White Rabbit_

Mr. W. T. Stead, in his _Real Ghost Stories_, gives an account of thehauntings by a phantom rabbit in a house in ---- Road. He does not, however, mention any locality. After describing several of the phenomenawhich disturbed various occupants of the place, he goes on to say, inthe language of Mrs. A. , who narrates the incident:--

"A dog which lay on the rug also heard the sounds, for he pricked up hisears and barked. Without a moment's delay she flew to the door, callingthe dog to follow her, intending as she did so to open the hall door andcall for assistance, but the dog, though an excellent house dog, crouched at her feet and whined, but would not follow her up the stairs, so she carried him up in her arms, and reaching the door, called forassistance; when, however, the dining-room doors were opened, the roomswere in perfect quiet and destitute of any signs of life. "

The behaviour of the dog here accords exactly with the behaviour of dogsI have had in haunted houses, and substantiates my theory that dogs areexcellent psychic barometers. 

"After the family had been in the house a few weeks, a white rabbit madeits appearance. This uncanny animal would suddenly appear in a room inwhich members of the family were seated, and after gliding round andslipping under chairs and tables, would disappear through a brick wallas easily as through an open door. "

This is the invariable trick of ghosts; they seldom, however, opendoors. Mrs. A. Adds:--

"Some years have now elapsed since the incident I have now related tookplace, and again, in response to orders given by the enterprisinglandlord of the property, long-closed doors and windows have been thrownopen, and painters and paperhangers have brought their skill to bearupon gruesome rooms and halls; the house is once more inhabited, thistime by a widow lady and some grown-up sons. These tenants come from adistance, and are entirely strangers both to the neighbourhood and theformer history of the house, but, to use her own words, the mistress'cannot understand what ails the house, ' her sons insist on sleepingtogether in one room, and the quiet of the house is constantly beingbroken by the erratic appearances of a large white rabbit, which theinmates are frequently engaged chasing, but are never able to find. "

Mr. Stead offers no explanation. I can see no other conclusion, however, than that this ghost was the actual phantasm of some rabbit that hadbeen done to death in the house, probably by the boy whose apparitionwas among the other manifestations seen there. 

_John Wesley's Ghost_

In his article "More Glimpses of the Unseen" (_Occult Review_, October, 1906), Mr. Reginald B. Span writes:--

"During the extraordinary manifestations which occurred in the house ofJohn Wesley at Epworth, the phantom forms of two animals appeared, onebeing a large white rabbit, and the other an animal like a badger, whichused to appear in the bedrooms and run about and then disappear, whilstthe various bangings and rappings were at their loudest. "

This is the only case I have ever come across of the ghost of a badger. I think it must be unique. Mr. Span adds: "Many strange and inexplicablethings occurred in that house which were not due to any natural cause orreason. I remember that loud rappings used to sound round my room atnights, even when I had a light burning. I was often awakened byrappings on the floor of my bedroom, which would then sound on the wallsand furniture, and were heard by others occupying rooms some distanceoff. " This, again, is most interesting, as ghosts seldom visit lightedrooms. Mr. Span continues:--

"It was in the afternoon in broad daylight when my brother saw thismysterious animal. 

"He was in the drawing-room alone, and as he was standing at one side ofthe room looking at a picture on the walls, he heard a noise behind him, and found, on looking round, that a sofa which generally lay againstone of the walls had been lifted by some unknown power into the middleof the room, at the same time he saw an animal like a rabbit run fromunder the sofa across the room and disappear into the wall. He searchedeverywhere for the animal, which could not have escaped from the room, as the doors and window were closed, but was unable to find any sign ofone or any hole whereby one might have passed out. "

_The Psychic Faculty in Hares and Rabbits_

Hares and rabbits are very susceptible to the superphysical, thepresence of which they scent in the same manner as do horses and dogs. 

I have known them to evince the greatest symptoms of terror when broughtinto a haunted house. 

CHAPTER VI

INHABITANTS OF THE JUNGLE

_Elephants, Lions, Tigers, etc. _

Elephants undoubtedly possess the faculty of scenting spirits in a verymarked degree. It is most difficult to get an elephant to pass a spotwhere any phantasm is known to appear. The big beast at once comes to ahalt, trembles, trumpets, and turning round, can only be urged forwardby the gentlest coaxing. 

Jungles are full of the ghosts of slain men and animals, and afford morevariety in hauntings than any other localities. The spirits of suchcruel creatures as lions, tigers, leopards, are very much earth-bound, and may be seen or heard night after night haunting the sites of theirformer depredations. 

The following case of a tiger ghost was narrated to me years ago by agentleman whom I will style Mr. De Silva, P. W. D. I published his accountin a popular weekly journal, as follows:--

_The White Tiger_

"Tap! tap! tap. Someone was coming behind me. I halted, and in thebrilliant moonlight saw a figure hobbling along--first one thin leg, then the other, always with the same measured stride--accompanied withthe same tapping of the stick. I had no wish for his company, though theroad was lonely, and I feared the presence of tigers, so I hurried on, and the faster I went, the nearer he seemed to come. Tap! tap! tap! Theman was blind and a leper, and so repulsively ugly that the niggers onthe settlement regarded him with superstitious awe. I had a horror oftigers, but of lepers even greater. And I loved my wife with no ordinarylove. So I hurried on, and he followed quickly after me. 

"The night was brilliant, even more so, I thought, than was ordinary, and the very brilliancy made me fear, for my shadow, the shadow of thetrees, shadows for which I had no name, flickered across the road, werelost to sight to return again, and the jungle was getting nearer. Theopen country on either side ceased, one by one tall blades of junglegrass shook their heads in the gentle breeze, and the silence of thedarkness beyond began to make itself felt. A night bird whizzed past me, croaking out a dismal incantation from its black throat; something atwhich I did not care to look clattered from under a stone I loosenedwith my foot, and sped into the shade, and I hastened on. 

"Tap! tap! tap! Faster and faster, and faster came the blind man. Icould smell the oil on his body, hear his breathing. 

"'Whoever you are, sahib, stop!'

"There was fear in his voice as he whined out these words, a fear whichincreased my own; but I pretended not to hear, and pressed on faster. 

"The darkness grew; high over my head at either side of the road wavedthe grass, rustling to and fro, and singing to sleep the insectsnestling on its green stalks with its old-time song of the jungle. 

"The grass ahead of me slowly parted; my heart beat quicker, the tappingbehind me ceased--it was only some small animal. What was it? A smallhyaena? No. A jackal, a lame jackal, and it looked at me from out ofeyes that for some reason or other made me shiver. I did not know whatthere was about the jackal that was different from what I had seen inany other jackal, but there was a something. And as I looked at it inawe, it vanished--melted into thin air. 

"The moment after a second jackal appeared just where the other one hadbeen standing, but there was nothing remarkable about this one, and onmy bending down, pretending to look for a stone to throw at it, it slunkback silently and stealthily whence it had come, and I hurried onfaster than ever, knowing a tiger was near at hand. 

"Tap! tap! tap! I blessed the presence of the blind man. 

"'For God's sake, sahib, stop! For the love of Allah, sahib, stop!' (Youknow how they talk, O'Donnell. ) 'The jackals, did you see them? I knewthem by their smell, the smell of the living and of the dead. Walk withme, sahib, for Allah's sake. '

"Presently, O'Donnell, I heard a heavier rustling in the grass than thewind makes; a rustling that kept pace with me and went along by my side, never halting, but faster and faster, and faster. 

"A short distance ahead of me was a patch of bright light, where thecross-roads met. A few yards more and the jungle grass would end. 

"I thought of this, O'Donnell--the beggar might not know the road sowell as I. He had no wife, no child; he was a leper, only a leper--andmy teeth chattered. 

"Here the Colonel paused and wiped his forehead. 

"I slackened my speed, the rustling by my side slowing down, and thetapping grew faster. I was close to the whitened road. 

"'Sahib, the blessing of Allah be on you for stopping. Sahib, let mewalk by your side. '

"(To the end of my days, O'Donnell, I shall never forgive myself, andyet I want you to understand it was for my wife--and child. ) I slunkinto the shade. Two steps more and the tapping would pass me. The stickstruck the ground within one inch of my foot; my heart almost ceased tobeat; I gazed in fascination at the spot in the jungle opposite. Theheavy rustling had stopped; only the gentle sighing of the wind went on. The two steps were taken, the blind man paused on the cross-roads. Hewas ghastly in the moonlight. I shuddered. His eyes peered enquiringlyround on all sides; he was looking for me; he had lost his way; hefeared the tiger. 

"Suddenly something huge shot like an arrow from the darkness oppositeme. I bowed my head, O'Donnell, and muttered a prayer, for I thought myend had come. 

"A terrible scream rang out in the clear night air. I was saved. 

"'Allah curse you and yours, sahib. '

"I opened my eyes; an enormous tiger was bending over the leper, searching for the most convenient spot in his body to afford a tightgrip. 

"The man's sightless eyes were turned towards the moon, his teeth shonewhite and even; with the striped horror purring in his face, he thoughtof vengeance on me. 

"I dared not move. I could not pass, O'Donnell. I had no gun. The bigbrute found a nice place to catch hold. It opened its mouth so that Icould see its glistening teeth. It looked down at its paws, where thecruel claws glittered, and they seemed to afford it keensatisfaction--it was a tigress and vain--then it lowered its head, andthe leper shrieked. I watched it pick him up as if he were one of itscubs; saw the blood trickle down its soft white throat into the dustyroad, and then it trotted gracefully away, and was lost in the darknessof the jungle. There was a deathlike silence after this. I waited a fewminutes, and then I got up. 

"I had only a short distance to go, and I no longer feared the presenceof man-eaters--there was not likely to be another. Hours afterwards, O'Donnell, when I lay in my hammock as safe as a fortress, I fancied Iheard the dead man's cry, fancied I heard his curse. No one was moredevoted to a wife than I was to mine. Ours had been purely a love match, and it was against my wish that she had accompanied me to such anout-of-the-way place as Seconee. I told her about my adventure, suppressing the leper's curse; and I was glad I did so, as she wasgreatly distressed. 

"'Thank goodness you escaped, Charlie, ' she said. 'I am so sorry for thepoor leper. I suppose you couldn't have helped him. '

"'I might have fetched my rifle, ' I replied, 'and tried to rescue him, of course. But I fear it wouldn't have been of much avail, as he wouldhave been badly mauled by then. '

"My wife sighed. 'Ah, well, ' she said, 'love is selfish! It makes oneforget others. Still, I wouldn't have it otherwise. '

"'I wish this railway job here was over, ' I murmured, sitting with myelbows on my knees and looking over the flat ground, sun-baked andbarren, away towards the dark jungles and the still darker mountainstowering above them; and as I gazed a shadow seemed to blur my visionand a voice to whisper in my ears, 'Beware of my curse. '

"I took Cushai, one of the native servants, into confidence. 

"'Now, Cushai, ' I said, 'you know all the superstitions of thecountry--the evil eye and the rest of them. Tell me, what can the dyingcurse of a leper do?'

"Cushai turned pale under his skin. 

"'Not of Nahra!' he stuttered, swinging the knife with which he had beencutting maize in his hand, 'not of Nahra, the leper of Futtebah. Sahib, if you were cursed by him, beware. He was learned in the black arts; hecould heal ulcers by repeating a prayer, he could bring on fever. '

"At this, O'Donnell, I turned cold. I had lived long in India. I hadseen their so-called juggling, had experienced also strange cases oftelepathy, and knew quite sufficient of their intimacy with thesupernatural elements to be afraid. 

"'You must keep the young sahib safe, ' Cushai said, 'and the white lady. I wish it hadn't been Nahra. '

"I took his advice. My boy, Eric, was more closely supervised than ever, and as to my wife, I begged and entreated her not to move from the houseuntil the tiger was dead, and I searched for it everywhere. 

"The dry season passed, the wet came, and my work still kept me inSeconee. At times there came to us rumours of the man-eater--of anothervictim--but it never visited our bungalow, where the bright rifle leanedagainst the wall waiting for it. 

"I certainly did meet with slight misfortunes, which the more timidmight have put down to the working of the curse. 

"My little finger was squashed in the laying down of a rail, and Erichad several bouts of sickness. 

"It was nearly a year after the leper's death that alarming rumours of aman-eater having been at work again were spread about us. Severalniggers were carried off or badly bitten, and the wounded showedsymptoms of the loathsome disease so well known and feared by usall--leprosy. 

"I knew from that it must be the same tiger. 

"'The tiger is near, ' someone would cry out, and a stampede among thenative workmen would ensue. 

"'Why the white tiger?' I asked Cushai. 

"'Because, sahib, ' he replied, 'the leprosy has made it so! Tigers, likemen, and all other animals, go white even to their hair. I have not toldthem the story, sahib; they only know it must have caught the leprosy. To them Nahra is still living. '

"Then, O'Donnell, when I thought of what was at stake, and of all thehideous possibilities the presence of this brute created, I took myrifle and went out to search for it. In the evenings, when the darkclouds from the mountains descended and the wind hissed through thejungle grass, I plodded along with no other companion than my Winchesterrepeater--searching, always searching for the damned tiger. I found it, O'Donnell, came upon it just as it was in the midst of a meal--diningoff a native--and I shot it twice before it recovered from itsastonishment at seeing me. The second shot took effect--I can swear tothat, for I took particular note of the red splash of blood on itsforehead where the bullet entered, and I went right up to it to makesure. As God is above us, no animal was more dead. 

"'The curse won't come now, Cushai, ' I said, laughing. 'I've killed thewhite tiger. '

"'Killed the white tiger, sahib! Allah bless you for that!' Cushaireplied. 

"'But don't laugh too soon. Nahra was a clever man, wonderfully clever;he did not speak empty words, ' and as his eyes wandered to the darkhills again I fancied a shadow darted along the sky, and the curse cameback to my ears. 

"I was superintending the line one afternoon; the backs of the niggerswere bending double under the burden of the great iron rods when I hearda terrible cry. 

"'The white tiger! the white tiger!' Rods fell with a crash, spadesfollowed suit, a chorus of shrieks filled the air, and legs scamperedoff in all directions. I was fifty yards from my rifle, and a hugecreature was slowly approaching between it and me. 

"I could hardly believe my eyes--the white tiger, the tiger I knew I hadkilled! Here it was! Here before me! The same in every detail, and yetin some strange, indefinable manner not the same. On it came, a hugepatch of luminous white, noiselessly, stealthily--the mark of the bulletplainly visible on its big, flat forehead. Step by step it approachedme, its paws no longer with the colouring of health, but dull and worn. And as it came, the cold shadow of desolation seemed to fall around it. Nothing stirred; there was no noise whatever, not even the sound of itsfeet crushing the loosened soil. On, on, on nearer, nearer and nearer. 

"Shunned by all, avoided by its fellow-creatures of the jungle, a blightto all and everything, it drew in a line with me. Not once did its eyesmeet mine, O'Donnell; not once did it glare at the natives who werehiding on the banks of the cutting; but it stole silently on its waywith a something in its movements that left no doubt but that it wasengaged in no casual venture. I remembered, O'Donnell, that my wife hadpromised to come with Eric to meet me along the cutting, as she was sureno tiger would be there. I ran as fast as I could, and yet somehow myfeet seemed weighted down. I cursed my folly for not forbidding my wifeto come. 

"It was uphill till I got to the bend, and it might have been amountain, it seemed so steep. I knew if the thing I had seen met them alittle farther on, they would be cornered, as the cutting narrowed verymuch, leaving not more than twenty yards, and that was a generousestimate. At last, after what seemed an eternity, I reached the summitof the slope; the tiger was a mere speck along the line. I rushed afterit as fast as I could go, stumbling, half falling, pulling myselftogether, and tearing on, and the faster I went the quicker moved thegreat white figure. A feeling of despair seized me; all my fondness formy wife became intensified tenfold, and was revealed to me then in itstrue nature; she was the one great tie that made life dear to me. Evenmy love for Eric paled away before the blinding affection I bore her. Itore madly on, shouting at the same time, anything to make the whitetiger aware of my presence, to keep it from seeing her. Another bend inthe road hid it from view. The same hideous fears gripped me hard andfast, as I strained every muscle in the mad pursuit. At last I ran roundthe curve, and saw before me the tableau I had dreaded. The tiger wascrouching, ready to spring on the group of three--Eva, Eric and theayah. They were paralysed with fear, and stood on the rails staring atit, unable to move or utter a sound. I well understood their feelings, and knew they were labouring in their minds as to whether the thing thatconfronted them was a creature of flesh and blood, or what it was. Theycould not take their eyes off it, and, as a consequence, did not see me. The white tiger now went through a series of actions, so lifelike that Icould not but believe it was real, and that I had been deceived inthinking I had killed it. Its haunches quivered, it got ready to spring, and my rifle flew to my shoulder. I saw it mark Eric, and read theincreased agony in my wife's eyes. The critical moment came. Anothersecond, and the thing, be it material or supernatural, would jump. Imust fire at all costs. If mortal, I must kill it, if ghostly, the noiseof my rifle might dematerialize it. And, as God is my judge, O'Donnell, at that moment I had not the least idea which of it was--tiger orphantom. It sprang--my brain reeled--my fingers grew numb, and as mywife suddenly bounded forward, the shadowy form of Nahra seemed to risefrom the ground and mock me. With a supreme effort I jerked my fingerback and fired. Bang! The sound of the explosion acted like asafety-valve to the pent-up feelings of all, and there was a chorus ofshrieks. I rushed forward--the ayah lay on the ground, face downward andmotionless. My wife had hold of Eric, who was shaking all over. Of thetiger there were no signs. It had completely vanished. 

"'Thank God, ' I exclaimed, kissing my wife feverishly. 'Thank God! Itwas only a ghost! but it was very alarming, wasn't it?'

"'Alarming!' my wife gasped, 'it was awful! I quite thought it was real!so did Eric, and so did ---- '--then her eyes fell on the ayah, and shegave a great start. 'Charlie!' she cried, 'for mercy's sake look at her!I dare not! Is she all right?'

"I turned the ayah over--she was dead! Fright had killed her!

"I then told my wife of the curse of Nahra, and of the phantom I thoughtI had seen of him, when the white tiger was springing. When I hadfinished, my wife hid her face in my shoulder. 

"'Charlie!' she said, 'I did something awful. I saw what I then took tobe the real white tiger single out Eric, and in my anxiety to save himfrom the brute, I pushed the ayah in front of him. And the thing sprangon her instead. It was nothing short of murder! And yet--well, therewere extenuating circumstances, weren't there?'

"'Of course there were, ' I said--for I verily believed, O'Donnell, fearhad, for the time being, turned her brain. 

"On our way home she suddenly called my attention to Eric. 

"'Charlie, ' she cried, 'what's that mark on his cheek? He's hurt!'

"I looked--and my heart turned sick within me. On the boy's cheek was afaint red scratch, just as might have been caused by a slight, veryslight contact with some animal's claw. 

"'Sahib!' Cushai whispered to me, when he saw it and heard of ouradventure. 'Sahib! Beware! Nahra was a clever man. He must have used thespirit of the white tiger as his tool. Let the medicine man examine thescar. '

"I did so. I took Eric to a Dr. Nicholson, who lived close by. 

"He looked at the wound curiously for a few moments, and then said tome--he was renowned for his plain speaking--'Mr. De Silva, there's nouse beating about the bush, and prolonging the agony unnecessarily foryou and your wife. The boy's got leprosy--God alone knows how! At themost he may live six weeks. '

"The shock, of course, was terrible. Eric had to be isolated fromeveryone--even from those who loved him best--and died within a month. 

"'Sahib, I knew!' Cushai said to me the day of the funeral, 'I knew somedisaster would befall you. Nahra was a wonderful man, and his curse hadto be fulfilled. You may rest assured, however, nothing further willbefall you, for I saw Nahra in a vision this morning, and he told meboth his and the white tiger's spirit were now on friendly terms, andwould trouble you no more. '

"My wife and I left the place at once, and for a long time I lived in ahell of suspense lest she should develop the infernal disease. By amerciful providence, however, she did no such thing, but, on thecontrary, picked up in health in the most marvellous fashion; indeed, she only told me yesterday, she felt better than she had done for years. I've told you the story, O'Donnell--and it is true in everydetail--because it goes a long way to substantiate your theory thatanimals, as well as human beings, have a future life. "

"I am absolutely sure they have!" I replied. 

_Jungle Animals and Psychic Faculties_

It is, of course, impossible to say whether animals of the junglepossess psychic faculties, without putting them to the test, and this, for obvious reasons, is extremely difficult. But since I have found thatsuch properties are possessed--in varying degree--by all animals I havetested, it seems only too probable that bears and tigers, and all beastsof prey, are similarly endowed. 

It would be interesting to experiment with a beast of prey in a hauntedlocality; to observe to what extent it would be aware of the advent ofthe Unknown, and to note its behaviour in the actual presence of thephenomena. 

PART III

BIRDS AND THE UNKNOWN

CHAPTER VII

BIRDS AND THE UNKNOWN

As Edgar Allan Poe has suggested in his immortal poem of "The Raven, "there is a strong link between certain species of birds and the Unknown. 

We all know that vultures, kites and crows scent dead bodies from agreat way off, but we don't all know that these and other kinds of birdspossess, in addition, the psychic property of scenting the advent notonly of the phantom of death, but of many, if not, indeed, all otherspirits. Within my knowledge there have been cases when, before a deathin the house, ravens, jackdaws, canaries, magpies, and even parrots, have shown unmistakable signs of uneasiness and distress. The raven hascroaked in a high-pitched, abnormal key; the jackdaw and canary havebecome silent and dejected, from time to time shivering; the magpie evenhas feigned death; the parrot has shrieked incessantly. Owls, too, aresure predictors of death, and may be heard hooting in the most dolefulmanner outside the house of anyone doomed to die shortly. 

In an article entitled "Psychic Records, " the editor of the _OccultReview_ (in the August number, 1905) supplies the following anecdotes ofghosts of birds furnished him by his correspondents. 

"In the autumn of 1877 my husband was lying seriously ill with rheumaticfever, and I had sat up several nights. At last the doctors insisted onmy going to bed; and very unwillingly I retired to a spare room. Whileundressing I was surprised to see a very large white bird come from thefireplace, make a hovering circle round me, and finally go to the top ofa large double chest of drawers. I was too tired to trouble about it, and thought I would let it remain until morning. The next morning I saidto the housemaid:

"'There was a large bird in the spare room last night, which flew to thetop of the drawers. See that it is put out. '

"The nurse, who was present, said:

"'Oh, dear, ma'am, I am afraid that is an omen, and means the masterwon't live, ' and she was confirmed in her opinion by the maid saying shehad searched, and there was no trace of any bird. 

"I was quite angry, as my husband was decidedly better, had sleptthrough the night, and we thought the crisis had passed. I went to hisbedside and found him quietly sleeping, but he never woke, and in aboutan hour passed quietly away. 

"I thought no more of the bird, fancying I must have been mistaken frombeing overtired. 

"Some months after my husband's death my youngest little one was born;he lived for twelve months, and then had an attack of bronchitis. Heslept in a cot in my room, and I was undressing one night, when thissame large white bird came from his cot, floated round me, anddisappeared in the fireplace. At the time I did not for a moment thinkof it as anything but a strange coincidence, and in no way connected itwith baby's illness. 

"The next morning I was sitting by the drawing-room fire with baby on mylap. The doctor came in, looked at him, sounded his chest, andpronounced him much better. As he was a friend of the family, he satdown on the other side of the fireplace and was chatting in an ordinaryway, when he suddenly jumped up with an exclamation, 'Why, what doesthis mean?' and took the child from my arms quite dead!

"For two years we saw nothing more of the white bird, and we had movedto another place. 

"One day I was in my room, and my two little girls, aged six and eight, were standing at the window watching a kitten in the garden, whensuddenly the youngest cried out:

"'Oh, mamma! Look at that great white bird, ' putting her hands as if tocatch it, exactly in the way it flies round one. 

"I saw nothing, and the elder child said, 'Don't be silly, Jessie; thereis no bird. '

"'But there is, ' said the child. 'Don't you see? There, look! There itis!'

"I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past three. 

"Two days after we received the news that a niece of mine had died attwenty minutes past three. The children had never known anything of theformer appearances, as we had never talked about it before them. We haveseen nothing since of the bird, but have for some years had no death inthe family. "

So runs the article in the _Occult Review_, and I can corroborate itwith similar experiences that have happened to my friends and to me. 

Some years ago, for instance, a great friend of my wife's died, and onthe day of the funeral a large bird tried to fly in at the window of theroom where the corpse lay; while, shortly afterwards, an exactly similarbird visited the window of my wife's and my room in a house, severalhundreds of miles away. If it was only a coincidence, it was a veryextraordinary one. 

Then again, this spring, just before the death of one of my wife'srelatives, a large bird flew violently against the window-pane behindwhich my wife was sitting--an incident that had never happened to her inthat house before. 

Undoubtedly, spirits in the guise of birds--most probably they are thephantasms of birds that have actually once lived on the materialplane--are the messengers of death. 

_A Case of Bird haunting in East Russia_

Some years ago the neighbourhood of Orskaia, in East Russia, was rousedby an affair of a very remarkable nature. The body of a handsome youngpeasant woman, called Marthe Popenkoff, was found in a lonely part ofthe road, between Orskaia and Orenburg, with the skin of her face andbody shockingly torn and lacerated, but without there being any woundsdeep enough to cause her death, which the doctor attributed to syncope. 

The people of Orskaia, not satisfied with this verdict, declared Marthehad been murdered, and made such a loud clamour that the editor of thelocal paper at last voiced their sentiments in the _East RussiaChronicle_. It was then that M. Durant, a smart young French engineer, temporarily residing in those parts, became interested in the case, anddecided to investigate it thoroughly. With this end in view he wrote tohis friend M. Hersant--a keen student of the Occult--in Saratova, tojoin him, and three days after the despatch of his letter met the latterat the Orskaia railway station. M. Durant retailed the case as theydrove to his house. 

"It is a remarkable affair, in every way, " he said. "The woman wasleading a perfectly respectable married life; she was hard-working andindustrious, and beyond the fact that she was over-indulgent to herchildren, does not seem to have had any serious faults. As far as I canascertain she had no enemies. "

"Nor secret lovers?" M. Hersant asked. 

"No; she was quite straight. "

"And you feel sure she was murdered?"

"I do. Public opinion so strongly favours that view. "

"Did you see the marks on the woman?"

"I did, and could make nothing of them. After supper I will take you tosee her, in the morgue. "

"What--she is still unburied?"

"Yes--but there is nothing unusual about that. In these parts bodiesare often kept for ten days--sometimes even longer. "

M. Durant was as good as his word; after they had partaken of a somewhathasty meal, they set out to the morgue, where they made a carefulinspection of the poor woman's remains. 

M. Hersant examined the marks on the woman's body very closely with hismagnifying-glass. 

"Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed, bending down and almost touching the corpsewith his nose, "Ah!"

"Have you made a discovery?" M. Durant enquired. 

"I prefer not to say at present, " M. Hersant replied. "I should like tosee the spot where this body was found--now. "

"We will go there at once, " M. Durant rejoined. 

The scene of the tragedy was the Orenburg road, at the foot of twolittle hills; and on either side were the sloping fields, yellow withthe nodding corn. 

"That is the exact place where she lay, " M. Durant said, indicating withhis finger a dark patch on a little wooden bridge spanning a stream, within a stone's throw of a tumbledown mill-house, all overgrown withivy and lichens. M. Hersant looked round and sniffed the air with hisnostrils. 

"There is an air of loneliness about this spot, " he remarked, "that initself suggests crime. If this were an ordinary murder, one could wellimagine the assassin was aided in his diabolical work by theconfiguration of the land which, shelving as it does, slips down intothe narrow valley, so as to preclude any possibility of escape on thepart of the victim. The place seems especially designed by Providence asa death-trap. Let us have a look at the interior of this building. "

"The police have searched it thoroughly, " M. Durant said. 

"I've no doubt, " M. Hersant replied drily. "No one knows better than Iwhat the thoroughness of the police means. "

They entered the premises cautiously, since the roof was in a ricketycondition, and any slight concussion might dislodge an avalanche ofstones and plaster. While M. Durant stood glancing round him ratherimpatiently, M. Hersant made a careful scrutiny of the walls. 

"Humph, " he said at last. "As you so rightly observed, Henri, this is aremarkable case. I have finished my investigation for to-night. Let usbe going home. To-morrow I should like to visit Marthe's home. "

This conversation took place shortly before midnight; some six hourslater all Orskaia was ringing with the news that Marthe Popenkoff'sthree children had all been found dead in their beds, their faces andbodies lacerated in exactly the same manner as their mother's. Thereseemed to be no doubt now that Marthe had been murdered, and thepopulace cried shame on the police; for the assassin was still at large. They agreed that the murderer could be no other than Peter Popenkoff, and the editor of the local paper repeating these statements, PeterPopenkoff was duly charged with the crimes, and arrested. He waspronounced guilty by all excepting M. Hersant; and of course M. Hersantthought him guilty, too; only he liked to think differently from anyoneelse. 

"I don't want to commit myself, " was all they could get out of him. "Imay have something to say later on. "

M. Durant laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 

"It, undoubtedly, is Peter Popenkoff, " he observed. "I had an idea thathe was the culprit all along. "

But a day or two later, Peter Popenkoff was found dead in prison withthe skin on his face and hands all torn to shreds. 

"There! Didn't we say so?" cried the inconsequent mob. "Peter Popenkoffwas innocent. One of the police themselves is the murderer. "

"Come, you must acknowledge that we are on the right track now--it isone of the police, " M. Durant said to his friend. 

But M. Hersant only shook his head. 

"I acknowledge nothing of the sort, " he said. "Come with me to themill-house to-night, and I will then tell you what I think. "

To this proposition M. Durant willingly agreed, and, accompanied by hisfriend and the village priest, set off. On their arrival, M. Hersantproduced a big compass, and on the earth floor of the mill-house drew alarge circle, in which he made with white chalk various signs andsymbols. He then sat in the middle of it, and bade his two companionsstand in the doorway and watch. The night grew darker and darker, andpresently into the air stole a something that all three men at oncerealized was supernatural. M. Hersant coughed nervously, the priestcrossed himself, and M. Durant called out, "This is getting ridiculous. These mediæval proceedings are too absurd. Let us go home. " The nextmoment, from the far distance, a church clock began to strike. It wasmidnight, and an impressive silence fell on the trio. Then there came anoise like the flutterings of wings, a loud, blood-curdling scream, halfhuman and half animal, and a huge black owl, whirling down from the roofof the building, perched in the circle directly in front of M. Hersant. 

"Pray, Father! Pray quickly, " M. Hersant whispered. "Pray for the dead, and sprinkle the circle with holy water. "

The priest, as well as his trembling limbs would allow, obeyed;whereupon the bird instantly vanished. 

"For Heaven's sake, " M. Durant gasped, "tell us what it all means. "

"Only this, " M. Hersant said solemnly, "the phantasm we saw caused thedeath of the Popenkoff family. It is the spirit of an owl that thechildren, encouraged by their parents, killed in a most cruel manner. Assoon as I examined Marthe's body, I perceived the mutilations were dueto a bird; and when I visited this mill on the eve of my arrival, I knewthat a bird had once lived here; that it had been captured with lime andmurdered, and that it haunted the place. "

"How could you know that?" the priest exclaimed in astonishment. 

"I am clairvoyant. I saw the bird's ghost as it appeared to us just now. Afterwards I enquired of the Popenkoffs' neighbours, and the informationI gathered fully confirmed my suspicions--that the unfortunate bird hadbeen put to death in a most barbarous manner. The deaths of the threechildren laid to rest any doubt I may have had with regard to thesuperphysical playing a part in the death of Marthe. Then when herbetter-half had been served likewise, I was certain that all fivepseudo-murders were wholly and solely acts of retribution, and that theywere perpetrated--I am inclined to think involuntarily--by the spirit ofthe owl itself. Accordingly, I decided to hold a séance here--here inits old haunt, and if possible to put an end to the earth-boundcondition and wanderings of the soul of the unhappy bird. Thanks toFather Mickledoff we have done so, and there will be no more so-calledmurders near Orskaia. "

_Hauntings by the Phantasms of Birds_

One of the most curious cases of hauntings by the phantasms of birdshappened towards the end of the eighteenth century in a church nottwenty miles from London. The sexton started the rumours, declaring thathe had heard strange noises, apparently proceeding from certain vaultscontaining the tombs of two old and distinguished families. The noises, which generally occurred on Friday nights, most often took the form ofmockings, suggesting to some of the listeners--the enaction of a murder, and to others merely the flapping of wings. 

The case soon attracted considerable attention, people flocking to thechurch from all over the country-side, and it was not long beforecertain persons came forward and declared they had ascertained the causeof the disturbance. The churchwarden, sexton, and his wife and othersall swore to seeing a huge crow pecking and clawing at the coffins inthe vaults, and flying about the chancel of the church, and perching onthe communion rails. When they tried to seize it, it immediatelyvanished. 

An old lady, who came of a family of well-to-do yeomen, and who livednear the church about that time, said that the people in the town hadfor many years been convinced the church there was haunted by thephantom of a bird, which they believed to be the earth-bound soul of amurderer, who, owing to his wealth, was interred in the churchyard, instead of being buried at the cross-roads with the customary woodenstake driven through the middle of his body. This belief of the yokelsreceived some corroboration from a neighbouring squire, who said he hadseen the phantasm, and was quite positive it was the earth-bound soul ofa criminal whose family history was known to him, and whose remains layin the churchyard. 

This is all the information that I have been able to gather on thesubject, but it is enough to, at least, suggest the church was, at onetime, haunted by the phantom of a bird, but whether the earth-bound soulof a murderer taking that guise, or the spirit of an actual dead bird, it is impossible to say. 

_The Ghost of an Evil Bird_

Henry Spicer, in his _Strange Things Amongst Us_, tells the story of aCaptain Morgan, an honourable and vivacious gentleman, who, arriving inLondon in 18--, puts up for the night in a large, old-fashioned hotel. The room in which he slept was full of heavy, antique furniture, reminiscent of the days of King George I, one of the worst periods inmodern English history for crime. Despite, however, his grimlysuggestive surroundings, Captain Morgan quickly got into bed and wassoon asleep. He was abruptly awakened by the sound of flapping, and, onlooking up, he saw a huge black bird with outstretched wings and fieryred eyes perched on the rail at the foot of the four-poster bed. 

The creature flew at him and endeavoured to peck his eyes. CaptainMorgan resisted, and after a desperate struggle succeeded in driving itto a sofa in the corner of the room, where it settled down and regardedhim with great fear in its eyes. Determined to destroy it, he flunghimself on the top of it, when, to his surprise and terror, itimmediately crumbled into nothingness. He left the house early nextmorning, convinced that what he had seen was a ghost, but Mr. Spiceroffers no explanation as to how one should classify the phenomenon. 

It may have been the earth-bound spirit of the criminal or viciouslyinclined person who had once lived there, or it may have been thephantom of an actual bird. Either alternative is feasible. 

I have heard there is an old house near Poole, in Dorset, and another inEssex, which were formerly haunted by spectral birds, and that as lateas 1860 the phantasm of a bird, many times the size of a raven, was sofrequently seen by the inmates of a house in Dean Street, Soho, thatthey eventually grew quite accustomed to it. But bird hauntings are notconfined to houses, and are far more often to be met with out of doors;indeed there are very few woods, and moors, and commons that are notsubjected to them. I have constantly seen the spirits of all manner ofbirds in the parks in Dublin and London. Greenwich Park, in particular, is full of them. 

_Addendum to Birds and the Unknown_

Though their unlovely aspect and solitary mode of life may in somemeasure account for the prejudice and suspicion with which the owl, crow, raven, and one or two other birds have always been regarded, thereare undoubtedly other and more subtle reasons for their unpopularity. 

The ancients without exception credited these birds with psychicproperties. 

"Ignarres bubo dirum mortalibus omen, " said Ovid; whilst speaking of thefatal prognostications of the crow Virgil wrote:

 "Saepe sinistra cava praedixit ab ilice cornix. "

A number of crows are stated to have fluttered about Cicero's head onthe day he was murdered. 

Pliny says, "These birds, crows and rooks, all of them keep muchprattling, and are full of chat, which most men take for an unlucky signand presage of ill-fortune. "

Ramesay, in his work _Elminthologia_ (1688), writes:

"If a crow fly over the house and croak thrice, how do they fear they, or someone else in the family, shall die. "

The bittern is also a bird of ill omen. Alluding to this bird, BishopHall once said:

"If a bittern flies over this man's head by night, he will make hiswill"; whilst Sir Humphry Davy wrote:

"I know a man of very high dignity who was exceedingly moved by omens, and who never went out shooting without a bittern's claw fastened to hisbutton-hole by a riband, which he thought ensured him 'good luck. '"

Ravens and swallows both, at times, prognosticate death. In Lloyd's_Stratagems of Jerusalem_ (1602) he says:

"By swallows lighting upon Pirrhus' tents, and lighting upon the mast ofMar. Antonius' ship, sailing after Cleopatra to Egypt, the soothsayersdid prognosticate that Pirrhus should be slaine at Argos in Greece, andMar. Antonius in Egypt. "

He alludes to swallows following Cyrus from Persia to Scythia, fromwhich the "wise men" foretold his death. Ravens followed Alexander theGreat from India to Babylon, which was regarded by all who saw them as afatal sign. 

"'Tis not for nought that the raven sings now on my left and, croaking, has once scraped the earth with his feet, " wrote Plautus. 

Other references to the same bird are as follows:

 "The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. "--(_Macbeth. _)

 "It comes o'er my memory As doth the raven o'er the infected house, Boding to all. "--(_Othello. _)

 "That tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings. " (_Jew of Malta. _)

 "Is it not ominous in all countries where crows and ravens croak upon trees?"--(_Hudibras. _)

 "The boding raven on her cottage sat, And with hoarse croakings warned us of our fate. " (_The Dirge. _)

"In Cornwall, " writes Mr. Hunt, in his work on popular beliefs, etc. , ofthe West of England, "it is believed that the croaking of a raven overthe house bodes evil to some of the family. The following incident, given to me by a really intelligent man, illustrates the feeling:

"'One day our family were much annoyed by the continual croaking of araven over the house. Some of us believed it to be a token; othersderided the idea. But one good lady, our next-door neighbour, said:

"'"Just mark the day, and see if something does not come of it. "

"'The day and hour were carefully noted. Months passed away, andunbelievers were loud in their boastings and enquiries after the token. The fifth month arrived, and with it a black-edged letter fromAustralia, announcing the death of one of the members of the family inthat country. On comparing the dates of the death and the raven's croak, they were found to have occurred on the same day. '"

In an old number of _Notes and Queries_ a correspondent relates that inSomersetshire the appearance of a single jackdaw is regarded as a sureprognostication of evil. He goes on to add that the men employed in thequarries in the Avon Gorge, Clifton, Bristol, had more than once noticeda jackdaw perched on the chain that spanned the river, prior to somecatastrophe among them. 

Dead magpies were once hung over the doorways of haunted houses to keepaway ghosts; it being almost universally believed that all phantasmsshared the same dread of this bird. Ghosts of magpies themselves are, however, far from uncommon; on Dartmoor and Exmoor, for example, I haveseen several of them, generally in the immediate vicinity of bogs ordeep holes. 

Witches were much attached to this bird, and were said to often assumeits shape after death. 

"Magpies, " says Mr. William Jones, in his _Credulities, Past andPresent_, "are mysterious everywhere. A lady living near Carlstad, inSweden, grievously offended a farm woman who came into the court of herhouse asking for food. The woman was told 'to take that magpie hangingupon the wall and eat it. ' She took the bird and disappeared, with anevil glance at the lady, who had been so ill-advised as to insult aFinn, whose magical powers, it is well known, far exceed those of thegipsies. " (Other authorities corroborate this statement; and I haveheard it said that the Finns can surpass even the famous tricks of theIndians. ) Mr. Jones, in the same story, says: "Presently the numberincreased, and the lady, who at first had been amused, became troubled, and tried to drive them away by various devices. All was to no purpose. She could not move without a large company of magpies; and they becameat length so daring as to hop on her shoulder. " (This reads likehallucination. However, as I have heard of similar cases, in which therehas been no doubt as to the objectivity of the phenomena, I see noreason why these magpies should not have been objective too. ) "Then shetook to her bed in a room with closed shutters, although even this wasnot an effectual protection, for the magpies kept tapping at theshutters day and night. " Mr. Jones adds: "The lady's death is notrecorded; but it is fully expected that, die when she may, all themagpies of Wermland will be present at her funeral. "

There is a house in Great Russell Street, W. C. , where the hauntings takethe form of a magpie that taps at one of the windows every morningbetween two and three, and then appears inside the room, perched on whatlooks like a huge alpine stick, suspended horizontally in the air, aboutseven feet from the floor. The moment a sound is made the apparitionvanishes. It is thought to be the spirit of a magpie that was done todeath in a very cruel manner in that room many years ago. There is astory current to the effect that a lady, when visiting the BritishMuseum one day, happened to pass some slighting remark about one of theEgyptian mummy cases (not the notorious one), and that on quitting thebuilding she felt a sharp peck on her neck. She put up her hand to theinjured part, and felt the distinct impression of a bird's claw on it. She could see nothing, however. That night--and for every succeedingnight for six weeks--she was awakened at two o'clock by the phantom ofan enormous magpie that fluttered over the bed, and was clearly visibleto herself and her sister. The phenomenon worried her so that she becameill, and was eventually ordered abroad. She went to Cairo and enjoyed abrief respite; the hauntings, however, began again, and this time becameso persistent that she at last lost her reason, and had to be broughthome and confined in a private asylum, where she shortly afterwardsdied. Though I cannot vouch for the truth of this story, I do think itis somewhat risky to make fun of certain of the Egyptian relics in theMuseum. They may be haunted by something infinitely more alarming thanthe ghosts of magpies. There are many sayings respecting the magpie as aharbinger of ill luck. In Lancashire, for example, there is this rhyme:

 "One for anger, two for mirth, Three for a wedding, four for a birth, Five for rich, six for poor, Seven for a witch, I dare tell you no more. "

From further north comes this couplet:

 "Magpie, magpie, chatter and flee, Turn up thy tail, and good luck fall me. "

Rooks, again, are very psychic birds; they always leave their hauntsnear an old house shortly before a death takes place in it, becausetheir highly developed psychic faculty of scent enables them to detectthe advent of the phantom of death, of which they have the greatesthorror. A rook is of great service, when investigating haunted houses, as it nearly always gives warning of the appearance of the Unknown byviolent flappings of the wings, loud croaking, and other unmistakablesymptoms of terror. 

Owls, though no less sensitive to superphysical influence, are notscared by it; they and bats, alone among the many kinds of animals Ihave tested, take up their abode in haunted localities, and with theutmost sang-froid appear to enjoy the presence of the Unknown, even inits most terrifying form. 

The owl has been associated with the darker side of the Unknown longerthan any other bird. 

"Solaque, culminibus ferali carmine bubo. Saepe queri et longas infletum ducere voces, " writes Virgil. 

Pliny, in describing this bird, says, "bubo funebris et maximeabominatus"; whilst Chaucer writes: "The owl eke that of death the bodeybringeth. "

In the Arundel family a white owl is said to be a sure indication ofdeath. 

That Shakespeare attached no little importance to the fatal crying ofthe bird may be gathered from the scene in _Macbeth_, when the murdererasks:

"Didst thou not hear a noise?" and Lady Macbeth answers:

"I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry"; and the scene in _RichardIII_, where Richard interrupts a messenger of evil news with the words:

"Out on ye, owls! Nothing but songs of death?"

Gray speaks of "moping" owls; Chatterton exclaims, "Harke! the detheowle loude dothe synge"; whilst Hogarth introduces the same bird in themurder scene of his _Four Stages of Cruelty_. 

Nor is the belief in the sinister prophetic properties of the owlconfined to the white races; we find it everywhere--among the RedIndians. West Africans, Siamese, and Aborigines of Australia. 

In Cornwall, and in other corners of the country, the crowing of a cockat midnight was formerly regarded as indicating the passage of deathover the house; also if a cock crew at a certain hour for two or threenights in succession, it was thought to be a sure sign of early death tosome member of the household. In _Notes and Queries_ a correspondentremarks that crowing hens are not uncommon, that their crow is verysimilar to the crow of a very young cock, and must be taken as a certainpresagement of some dire calamity. 

It was generally held that in all haunted localities the ghosts would atonce vanish--not to appear again till the following night--at the firstcrowing of the cock after midnight. I believe there is a certain amountof truth in this--at all events cocks, as I myself have proved, areinvariably sensitive to the presence of the superphysical. 

The whistler is also a very psychic bird. Spenser, in his _FaerieQueene_ (Book II, canto xii, st. 31), alludes to it thus:--

 "The whistler shrill, that whoso hears doth die";

whilst Sir Walter Scott refers to it in a similar sense in his _Lady ofthe Lake_. 

The yellow-hammer was formerly the object of much persecution, since itwas believed that it received three drops of the devil's blood on itsfeather every May morning, and never appeared without presaging illluck. Parrots do not appear to be very susceptible to the influence ofthe Unknown, and indicate little or no dread of superphysicaldemonstrations. 

Doves, wrens, and robins are birds of good omen, and the manysuperstitions regarding them are all associated with good luck. Doves, Ihave found in particular, are very safe psychic barometers in hauntedhouses. 

It is almost universally held to be unlucky to kill a robin. Acorrespondent of _Notes and Queries_ (Fourth Series, vol. Viii, p. 505)remarks:

"I took the following down from the mouth of a young miner:

"'My father killed a robin and had terrible bad luck after it. He had atthat time a pig which was ready for pipping; she had a litter of seven, and they all died. When the pig was killed the two hams went bad;presently three of the family had a fever, and my father himself died ofit. The neighbours said it was all through killing the robin. '"

George Smith, in his _Six Pastorals_ (1770), says:

 "I found a robin's nest within our shed, And in the barn a wren has young ones bred; I never take away their nest, nor try To catch the old ones, lest a friend should die. Dick took a wren's nest from the cottage side, And ere a twelvemonth pass'd his mother dy'd!"

In Yorkshire it was once firmly believed that if a robin were killed, the cows belonging to the family of the destroyer of the bird would, for some time, only give bloody milk. At one time--and, perhaps, evennow--the robin and wren, out of sheer pity, used to cover the bodies ofthose that died in the woods with leaves. 

Webster, in his _Tragedy of Vittoria Corombona_ (1612), refers to thistouching habit of these birds thus:

 "Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, Since o'er the shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. "

Not so harmless is the stormy petrel, whose advent is looked upon bysailors as a sure sign of an impending storm, accompanied by much lossof life. 

The vulture and eagle, obviously on account of their ferociousdispositions, often remain earth-bound after death, and usually selectas their haunts, spots little frequented by man. From what I have heardthey are by far the most malignant of all bird ghosts, and have evenbeen known to inflict physical injury on those who have had themisfortune to pass the night within their allotted precincts. 

CHAPTER VIII

A BRIEF RETROSPECT

If I have failed to convince my readers as to the reality of a futureexistence for all species of mammalia, I trust I have at least suggestedto them the idea of probability in such a theory; for did the beliefthat all animals possess imperishable spirits similar to mankind onlybecome general, I feel quite sure that a marked improvement in ourtreatment of all the so-called "brute" creation--and God alone knows howmuch such an improvement is needed--would speedily result. It is stillonly the comparative few who are kind to animals--the majority areeither wholly indifferent or absolutely cruel. But if children were madeto realize that even insects have spirits, they, at least, let us hope, would cease to take delight in pulling off the wings and legs of flies. 

Man has hitherto entertained the ridiculously unjustifiable idea thatall the animal and insect world has been created solely for his benefit, to be killed or to be kept alive entirely at his discretion. Such anabsurd and presumptuous belief ought to be exploded once and for all. The animal world, so all sane people must agree, was undoubtedly createdto lead the same, free, untrammelled life as does man himself. Man--savein cunning--is nothing superior either to the dog, horse, or othermammalia; indeed, he is not infrequently so inferior that one cannothelp thinking that possibly the higher spiritual planes are not for himat all, but for those who--misnamed the lower creation--have surpassedman in spirituality. Let those who doubt this study the superphysicalall around them. Let them carefully watch animals, and observe theirpropensities, their psychic faculties of scent, sight, and hearing. Theycan easily test them in any house or locality which has awell-established reputation for being haunted. They will then see howclose a relationship there really is between the animal andsuperphysical worlds. And if they want further proof, --proof of a morematerial nature, --let them search around for some spot stated to behaunted by a ghostly phenomenon in the form of a dog, horse, cat, orother animal, --and investigate there themselves. 

Such investigations have convinced me, and surely, by using these samemethods with patience and perseverance, other people might also beconvinced. At all events, let them try. For, a conviction like mine--aconviction that an eternity exists for our canine pets and dumbfriends--is certainly worth a lot of striving after. At least so Ithink. 

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