SOME years ago, whilst staying at a little town in Somerset, I became
acquainted with the chauffeur of a family who resided in a stately
old mansion, standing in a large and well-kept park.
One evening, as the family were away, I was invited to pay my friend
a visit. The walk of two miles brought me to the drive gates, and
from there to the house was about three-quarters of a mile across the
park, which was divided in several places by iron railings, having
white gates across the drive. These were always kept closed when the
family were away.
After a chat and smoke with my friend, I started my homeward journey
about 9:30, it being a beautiful moonlight night. I had got about
one-third of the way down the drive when a pair of carriage lamps
loomed out ahead, and knowing the people were away, I was surprised
to meet a conveyance coming to the house so late at night. The lights
came nearer and I could distinctly hear the horses’ hoofs on the
drive. I had just reached one of the gates and decided to stay and
hold it open for the vehicle to pass. On came the two-horse carriage
which was now quite visible, and I shouted to the driver that I would
hold the gate open for him, but I got no reply. The carriage was now
within about ten yards, when, suddenly, the whole lot disappeared.
One can quite imagine my feelings as I clung to the gate, not knowing
whether to go forward or back to the house. I learned afterwards that
this conveyance had been seen several years before by some of the old
servants.