CHAPTER V_True Ghost Stories

GHOST STORIES OF A MORE DRAMATIC NATURE

In the cases which are adduced in the present chapter, the standard

of evidence cannot be considered so high; many of them have been

recorded in good faith as actual experiences, but they will probably

fail to carry conviction to the same extent as those which have gone

before. Still, many of these narratives are singularly striking and

interesting; and for this reason deserve to be included in this

volume. The reader may therefore place any construction he may choose

upon these cases; as they are presented not as evidence but as

entertainment. I shall begin with some personal experiences of a Scotch

seer, who, according to his own accounts, has experienced some of the

most dramatic and remarkable manifestations conceivable.

DISEASE-PHANTOMS

Mr. Elliott O'Donnell--a man about whom it has been said that "the

gates of his soul are open on the Hell side," has had many strange

experiences with spirits, mostly evil and horrible, and has recorded

these in his books "Ghostly Phenomena," "Byways of Ghostland," etc.

From his voluminous writings on his own personal experiences, I cite a

few cases, to show the character of the phenomena:

"I have, from time to time, witnessed many manifestations which I

believe to be super-physical, both from the peculiarity of their

properties, and from the effect their presence invariably produce

on me--an effect I cannot associate with anything physical. One of

the first occult phenomena I remember, appeared to me when I was

about five years of age. I was then living in a town in the West of

England, and had, according to the usual custom, been put to bed at

six o'clock. I had spent a very happy day, playing with my favorite

toys--soldiers--and, not being in the least degree tired, was amusing

myself with planning a fresh campaign for the following morning, when

I noticed suddenly that the bedroom door (which I distinctly remember

my nurse carefully latching) was slowly opening. Thinking this was very

curious, but without the slightest suspicion of 'ghosts,' I sat up in

bed and watched.

"The door continued to open, and at last I caught sight of something

so extraordinary that my guilty conscience at once associated it with

the Devil--with regard to whom I distinctly recollected to have spoken

that afternoon in a sceptical, and I frankly admit, very disrespectful

manner. But far from feeling the proximity of that heat which all those

who profess authority on Satanic matters ascribe to Satan, I felt

decidedly cold--so cold, indeed, that my hands grew numb and my teeth

chattered. At first I only saw two light glittering eyes that fixed

themselves upon me with an expression of diabolical glee, but I was

soon able to perceive that they were set in a huge, flat face, covered

with fulsome-looking yellow spots about the size of a threepenny bit.

I do not remember noticing any of the other features, save the mouth,

which was large and gaping. The body to which the head was attached

was quite nude, and covered all over with spots similar to those on

the face. I cannot recall any arms, though I have vivid recollections

of two thick and, to all appearances, jointless legs, by the use of

which it left the doorway, and gliding noiselessly over the carpet,

approached the empty bed, placed in a parallel position to my own.

There it halted, and thrusting its mis-shapen head forward, it fixed

its malevolent eyes on me with a penetrating stare. On this occasion,

I was far less frightened than on any of my subsequent experiences with

the occult. Why, I cannot say, as the manifestation was certainly one

of the most hideous I have ever seen. My curiosity, however, was far

greater than my fear, and I kept asking myself what the thing was, and

why it was there?

"It did not seem to be composed of ordinary flesh and blood, but rather

of some luminous matter that resembles the light emanating from a

glow-worm.

"After remaining in the same attitude for what seemed to me an

incalculably long time, it gradually receded, and assuming all of

a sudden a horizontal attitude, passed head first through the wall

opposite to where I sat. Next day, I made a sketch of the apparition,

and showed it to my relatives, who, of course, told me I had been

dreaming. About two weeks later I was ill in bed with a painful, if

not actually dangerous, disease. I was giving an account of this

manifestation at a lecture I delivered two or three years ago in

B., and when I had finished speaking, I was called aside by one of

the audience who very shyly told me that he too had had a similar

experience. Prior to being attacked by diphtheria, he had seen a

queer-looking apparition which had approached his bedside and leaned

over him. He assured me that he had been fully awake at the time, and

had applied tests to prove that the phantom was entirely objective.

"A number of other cases, too, have been reported to me, in which

various species of phantasms have been seen before various illnesses.

Hence I believe that certain spirits are symbolical of certain

diseases, if not the actual creators of the bacilli from which

these diseases arise. To these phantasms I have given the name of

_Morbas_...."

THE TALE OF THE MUMMY

"During one of my sojourns in Paris," says Mr. Elliott O'Donnell, in

his "Byways of Ghost Land," "I met a Frenchman who, he informed me, had

just returned from the East. I asked him if he had brought back any

curios such as vases, funeral urns, weapons or amulets. 'Yes, lots,'

he replied, 'two cases full. But no mummies! Mon Dieu! No mummies. You

ask me why? Ah! Thereby hangs a tale. If you will have patience, I will

tell it you.'

"The following is the gist of his narrative:

"'Some seasons ago I traveled up the Nile as far as Assiut, and when

there, managed to pay a visit to the grand ruins of Thebes. Among the

various treasures I brought away with me was a mummy. I found it lying

in an enormous lidless sarcophagus, close to a mutilated statue of

Anubis. On my return to Assiut, I had the mummy placed in my tent, and

thought no more of it till something awoke me with startling suddenness

in the night. Then, obeying a peculiar impulse, I turned over on my

side and looked in the direction of my treasure.

"'The nights in the Soudan at this time of year are brilliant, one can

even see to read, and every object in the desert is almost as clearly

visible as by day. But I was quite startled by the whiteness of the

glow which rested on the mummy, the face of which was immediately

opposite mine. The remains--those of Met-Om-Karema, lady of the College

of the god Amen-ra--were swathed in bandages, some of which had worn

away in parts or become loose; and the figure, plainly discernible, was

that of a shapely woman with elegant bust, well-formed limbs, rounded

arms and small hands. The thumbs were slender, and the fingers, each of

which was separately bandaged, long and tapering. The neck was full,

the cranium rather long, the nose aquiline, the chin firm. Imitation

eyes, brows, and lips were painted on the wrappings, and the effect

thus produced and in the phosphorescent glare of the moonbeams, was

very weird. I was quite alone in the tent, the only European who

accompanied me to Assiut, having stayed in the town by preference, and

my servants being encamped at one hundred or so yards from me on the

ground.

"'Sound travels far in the desert, but the silence now was absolute,

and, though I listened attentively, I could not detect the slightest

noise--man, beast and insect were abnormally still. There was something

in the air, too, which struck me as unusual; an odd, clammy coldness

that reminded me at once of the catacombs in Paris. I had hardly,

however, conceived the resemblance, when a sob--low, gentle, but very

distinct--sent a thrill of horror through me. It was ridiculous,

absurd. It could not be, and I fought against the idea as to whence

the sound had proceeded, as something too utterly fantastic, too

utterly impossible. I tried to occupy my mind with other thoughts--the

frivolities of Cairo, the casinos of Nice; but all to no purpose;

and soon, on my eager, throbbing ear there again fell that sound,

that low and gentle sob. My hair stood on end; this time there was no

doubt, no possible manner of doubt--the mummy lived! I looked at it

aghast. I strained my vision to detect any movement in its limbs,

but none was perceptible. Yet the noise had come from it, it had

breathed--breathed--and even as I hissed the word unconsciously through

my clenched lips, the bosom of the mummy rose and fell.

"'A frightful terror seized me. I tried to shriek to my servants; I

could not ejaculate a syllable. I tried to close my eye-lids, but

they were held open as in a vice. Again there came a sob that was

immediately succeeded by a sigh; and a tremor ran through the figure

from head to foot. One of its hands then began to move, the fingers

clutched the air convulsively, then grew rigid, then curled slowly

into the palms, then suddenly straightened. The bandages concealing

them from view then fell off, and to my agonized sight were disclosed

objects that struck me as strangely familiar. There is something about

fingers, a marked individuality, I never forget. No two persons' hands

are alike. And in these fingers, in their excessive whiteness, round

knuckles, and blue veins, I read a likeness whose prototype, struggle

how I would, I could not recall. Gradually the hand moved upwards, and,

reaching the throat, the fingers set to work at once to remove the

wrappings. My terror was now sublime. I dare not imagine, I dare not

for one instant think, what I should see. And there was no getting away

from it; I could not stir an inch, and the ghastly revelation would

take place within a yard of my face!

"'One by one the bandages came off. A glimmer of skin, pale as marble;

the beginning of the nose, the whole nose; the upper lip, exquisitely,

delicately cut; the teeth, white and even on the whole, but here and

there a shining gold filling; the under lip, soft and gentle; a mouth

I knew, but--God, where? In my dreams, in the wild fantasies that had

oft-times visited by pillow at night--in delirium, in reality, where?

Mon Dieu! WHERE?

"'The uncasing continued. The chin next, a chin that was purely

feminine, purely classical; then the upper part of the head--the hair

long, black, luxuriant--the forehead low and white--the brows black,

firmly pencilled; and last of all, the eyes!--and as they met my

frenzied gaze, smiled, smiled right down into the depths of my living

soul, I recognized them--they were the eyes of my mother, my mother

who had died in my boyhood! Seized with a madness that knew no bounds,

I sprang to my feet. The figure rose and confronted me. I flung open

my arms to embrace her, the woman of all women in the world I loved

best, the only woman I had ever loved. Shrinking from my touch, she

cowered against the side of the tent. I fell on my knees before her and

kissed--what? Not the feet of my mother, but those of the long-buried

dead. Sick with repulsion and fear I looked up, and there bending over

and peering into my eyes was the face, the fleshless, mouldering face

of the foul and barely recognizable corpse! With a shriek of horror

I rolled backwards, and, springing to my feet, prepared to fly. I

glanced at the mummy. It was lying on the ground, stiff and still,

every bandage in its place; whilst standing over it, a look of fiendish

glee in its light, doglike eyes, was the figure of Anubis, lurid and

menacing.

"'The voices of my servants, assuring me they were coming, broke the

silence, and in an instant the apparition vanished.

"'I had had enough of the tent, however, at least for that night, and,

seeking refuge in the town, I whiled away the hours till morning with

a fragrant cigar and a novel. Directly I had breakfasted, I took the

mummy back to Thebes, and left it there. No thank you, Mr. O'Donnell, I

collect many kinds of curios, but--no more mummies!'"

FACE SLAPPED BY A GHOST

The following remarkable event occurred to a friend of mine--an

elderly, married lady, whom I have known for some time. She is now

making her home in Brooklyn, but at the time of her gruesome experience

was residing in England. It is some years since this occurred, but the

incident, she assured me, lives just as vividly in her mind as though

it all happened yesterday. This is her story, just as she told it to me:

"I was staying with some friends in the country. They had an old,

rambling house, with long, draughty halls and corridors all over it. As

the house was already full of guests, I had to sleep in a large room,

at the end of the long passage, on the ground floor. The room in itself

was comfortable enough--large and warm. Yet there was an atmosphere

about that apartment which I did not quite like; in fact, the whole

house made me feel 'creepy,' for no reason that I can give.

"Bed-time came all too soon; and I took my candle and was shown my

room. My hostess saw that I had everything I needed; and then, saying

good-night, went upstairs to bed.

"I had half undressed when I saw the door of my room gently and quietly

opened, as though a stealthy hand were softly pressing it open. I

gazed transfixed, until, when wide open, I could see that no one was,

in reality, on the other side of the door. At that I drew a breath

of relief. 'A draught,' I thought, 'coming down the hallway. It is

nothing.' And I chided myself on my fears; shut the door, and proceeded

to undress.

"I had not gone far, however, when to my amazement the door opened

again; just as quietly and stealthily as before. Again I closed the

door, and proceeded with my undressing. I had by this time finished,

and had donned my night-gown preparatory to getting into bed.

"At that moment I was horrified to see my door open for the _third_

time, just as it did before--slowly, slowly, until it rested on its

hinges, wide open to the hall. I now determined to investigate; so,

taking my candle in my hand, I stepped out into the hall and proceeded

down towards the front door.

"I had not taken more than three or four steps, however, when the

candle in my hands was extinguished--as though a breath of wind, coming

from nowhere, had blown it out. I did not much relish this, as the

matches were in my room. But I determined to keep on, in the dark,

and see what the cause of this could be. So I kept on and on, down

the dark hall--my left hand holding the extinguished candle; my right

extended so that I could feel the solid masonry all the way down the

corridor.

"I had proceeded, perhaps, half way, when a strange thing occurred. I

suddenly felt myself slapped on the left cheek by something cold and

moist and clammy. I put my hand up to my face, and felt it was wet. For

an instant I hesitated; then I proceeded, down the hall, until I came

to the front door. That I found closed and locked. Having thus explored

the whole length of the hall and found nothing, I turned back to regain

my room. Still holding the candle in my left hand, and still feeling

the wall with my outstretched right hand, I crept cautiously along, not

knowing what to expect.

"Again, I had proceeded about half way down the hall when I felt the

same cold, quick slap in the face (this time on the right cheek) and

again I found it was wet.

"Thoroughly frightened now, I fled to my room as fast as my legs could

carry me. Once within, I closed and secured the door by placing a chair

against it. Next, finding my box of matches, I relighted my candle.

Then I surveyed myself in the mirror, to see what could be upon my

face.

"Imagine my horror when, on looking in the glass, I discovered two

long streaks of blood, one upon either cheek! I was so terror-struck

that I gazed at myself for a few moments unable to move or speak. Then

I screamed, and after that I have no very clear recollection of what

happened. I have a hazy recollection of anxious faces bending over me;

of a low hum of voices; then oblivion.

"It took me many weeks to recover from the shock of that night."

ALONE WITH A GHOST IN A CHURCH

The following case is sent me by a correspondent:

I once knew a young man by the name of Charles D. Bradlaugh, who took a

delight in ridiculing ghost stories and, whenever possible, in proving

them to be due to fraud, trickery or hallucination. He stated he was

"afraid of nothing." I said to him one day in conversation: "If you are

as fearless as you say, would you be willing to spend a night alone,

locked up in a Church with a corpse freshly placed in its coffin?"

He replied that he would do it any time; so the test was shortly

arranged. One of the parishioners had just died, and had been placed

in the crypt of the church, with the lid of the coffin removed. The

lights were all extinguished; we locked the door after us, and went

away, leaving Bradlaugh and the spirits to fight it out between them.

What occurred during the night must be told in Bradlaugh's own words,

as nearly as I can recall them:

"When I heard the key turn in the door, that night, I confess that a

strange feeling came over me for the first time in my life. I wanted

to get out; but of course I knew it was useless; and in the next place

my pride forbade my leaving. Shaking off the superstitious fear that

had settled upon me, I turned away; and proceeded to explore, as best I

could, the whole of the church.

"A bright moonlight fell in through the windows, casting queer shadows

in various directions; and across the long rows of pews and the altar

at the far end of the church. I walked about, looking at everything

curiously, as it had been long since I found myself inside a church.

Then I proceeded to the crypt, and, walking boldly up to the coffin, I

gazed long and earnestly at the corpse lying within it, as though to

familiarize myself with it. I went on the principle that 'familiarity

breeds contempt.' When I had done this, I went back to the nave of the

church, and, finding a comfortable place, I lay down, and was soon in

a state bordering on sleep. I should have been asleep, probably, very

soon; but, just as I was dropping off, I heard a faint sound coming

from the direction of the crypt. It was like a deep sigh, and this

was followed by other sounds which I find it hard to describe. All I

know is that, in the quiet and stillness of that awful place, those

sounds, slight as they were, were truly appalling, and chilled the very

blood in my veins. Their very indistinctness added to their terror. I

could not conceive what could make such uncanny noises. I sat up, and

strained my eyes in the darkness, trying to penetrate the gloom. Then

I heard the first faint footsteps coming up the stairs from the crypt!

At first, these were faint, but they became louder and louder; until

finally I could hear them plainly. Undoubtedly they were foot-falls, as

though a human being were mounting the steps from the crypt where the

corpse had been laid!

"I rose from my seat, my hair standing on end, while queer, cold

shivers ran up and down my back. I advanced one or two paces toward the

door, hardly knowing what to expect. Then, as I looked, I saw step into

the bright moonlight, the corpse that a few moments before I had seen

lying in the coffin downstairs!

"Frantic with fear, I rushed at the corpse, still shrouded, as it was,

in the white wrappings which, torn and dishevelled, still enveloped the

body. I raised one hand as though to strike the ghost, and thrust the

hateful thing from me; when I felt a stunning blow on the point of my

jaw, and a moment later I had lost sensibility. When I awoke, you were

all round me. You know the rest."

To make a long story short, it turned out that the supposed "corpse"

was not really dead at all, but in a sort of trance; and had been

buried prematurely. He had revived in the night; and was advancing into

the church when he encountered Bradlaugh in the doorway. Thinking him a

robber or an assassin, he had struck first; and, being a powerful man

and a good boxer, he had knocked out Bradlaugh by a blow on the jaw.

When we arrived in the morning, we found Bradlaugh senseless, and the

"corpse," now stripped of his grave clothes, bending over him, dashing

cold water in his face!

A HAUNTED HOUSE IN FRANCE

The following case, said to be authentic, is quoted here because of

the incident of the "shouts and laughter" which were heard, and which

serve to throw an interesting sidelight on the case which follows it.

The Rev. F. G. Lee, in his book, _Sights and Shadows_, gives the

following account, sent to him, of a haunted house in France:

"In the spring of the year 1891, great excitement was occasioned by

a disembodied spirit in a haunted house in LePort, at Nice. This is

situated in a terrace close to the quarries, where, after the reports

concerning it, as many as two thousand persons were often gathered

round it. The spirits haunting it--never visible, however--would

beat the inmates so unmercifully that the blows would leave bruises.

Hundreds of persons saw the result, and testified to the undoubted

facts. The local police, on being appealed to, and having heard the

evidence of numerous eye-witnesses, and of those persons who were

inconvenienced, formed a body of organized inquirers, who, shrewd

enough in mundane matters, utterly failed to discover anything or

anybody.

"On one occasion, thirteen men sat up in three rooms which had been

well lighted, and some of them played cards for several hours to while

away the time. During the whole of this occurrence, the strangest

noises were heard in various parts of the building. It seemed, at

one time, as if a whole regiment of soldiers were tramping up the

chief staircase. Pictures swung to and fro upon the walls, without any

visible motive effect.[4] Then heavy blows were heard on the walls, and

it appeared that the closed doors and the shutters were being violently

struck and thumped, as if with a large hammer wrapped in cloth.

[4] This is a common feature of haunted houses.--H.C.

"On two occasions, a room on the ground floor was found to be in the

densest darkness, though outside the house the sun was shining. On

another occasion, just before midnight, when certain persons were

specially present to note any supernatural occurrences, all the lamps

in the house were suddenly put out; while shouts and laughter were

heard in every part of the place, more particularly from the empty

rooms. At the same time, heavy blows were experienced by those present,

who were very severely bruised, and a large bottle of ink was thrown by

invisible hands from the top of the staircase.

"Every attempt was made to discover the source of these extraordinary

disorders, but without avail. They were reported to have ceased for

several months, but to have commenced again at a later period. A local

communication says that they still 'occur at intervals.'"

A HAUNTED HOUSE IN GEORGIA

The following account is taken from the report of the San Francisco

_Examiner_, and is certainly one of the most striking cases of the

character on record. It is not put forward as strictly "evidential,"

but its interesting nature certainly warrants its insertion in this

volume.

"Soon after the Walsinghams took up their abode in their new home,

they began to be disturbed by strange sounds and odd phenomena. These

disturbances generally took the form of noises in the house after the

family had retired and the lights had been extinguished--continual

banging of the doors, things overturned, the doorbell rang, and the

annoying of the house dog, a large and intelligent mastiff.

"One day Don Cæsar, the mastiff, was found in the hallway barking

furiously and bristling with rage, while his eyes seemed directed to

the wall just before him. At last he made a spring forward with a

hoarse yelp of ungovernable fury, only to fall back as if flung down by

some powerful and cruel hand. Upon examination it was found that his

neck had been broken.

"The house cat, on the contrary, seemed rather to enjoy the favor of

the ghost, and would often enter a door as if escorting some visitor,

whose hand was stroking her back. She would also climb about a chair,

rubbing herself and purring as if well pleased at the presence of some

one in the seat. She and Don Cæsar invariably manifested this eccentric

conduct at the same time, as though the mysterious being were visible

to both of them.

"The annoying visitant finally took to arousing the family at all hours

of the night by making such a row as to render any rest impossible.

"This noise, which consisted of shouts, groans, hideous laughter, and a

peculiar, most distressing wail, would sometimes proceed, apparently,

from under the house, sometimes from the ceiling and at other times in

the very room in which the family was seated. One night Miss Amelia

Walsingham, the young lady daughter, was engaged at her toilet, when

she felt a hand softly laid on her shoulder. Thinking it her mother or

sister, she glanced at the glass before her, only to be thunderstruck

at seeing the mirror reflect no form but her own, though she could

plainly see a man's broad hand lying on her arm.

"She brought the family to her by her screams, but when they reached

her all sign of the mysterious hand had gone. Mr. Walsingham himself

saw footsteps form beside his own while walking through the garden

after a light rain.

"The marks were those of a man's naked feet, and fell beside his own,

as if the person walked at his side.

"Matters grew so serious that the Walsinghams became frightened, and

talked of leaving the house, when an event took place which confirmed

them in this determination. The family was seated at the supper table

with several guests who were spending the evening when a loud groan was

heard in the room overhead.

"This was, however, nothing unusual, and very little notice was taken

of it until one of the visitors pointed out a stain of what looked like

blood on the white table cloth, and it was seen that some liquid was

slowly dripping on the table from the ceiling overhead. This liquid was

so much like freshly-shed blood that it horrified those who watched its

slow dropping. Mr. Walsingham, with several of his guests, ran hastily

upstairs and into the room directly over the one in which the blood was

dripping.

"A carpet covered the floor, and nothing appeared to explain the source

of the ghastly rain; but, anxious to satisfy themselves thoroughly,

the carpet was immediately ripped up, and the boarding found to be

perfectly dry, and even covered with a thin layer of dust, and all the

while the floor was being examined the persons below could swear the

blood never ceased to drop. A stain the size of a dinner-plate was

formed before the drops ceased to fall. This stain was examined the

next day under the microscope, and was pronounced by competent chemists

to be human blood.

"The Walsinghams left the house next day, and since then the place

has been apparently given over to spooks and evil spirits, which make

the night hideous with the noise of revel, shouts and furious yells.

Hundreds from all over this county and adjacent ones have visited the

place, but few have had the courage to pass the night in the haunted

house. One daring spirit, however, Horace Gunn, of Savannah, accepted

a wager that he could not spend twenty-four hours in it, and did so,

though he declares that there is not enough money in the country to

make him pass another night there. He was found the morning after

by his friends with whom he made the wager, in a swoon. He has never

recovered from the shock of his horrible experience, and is still

confined to his bed suffering from nervous prostration.

"His story is that shortly after nightfall he endeavored to kindle

a fire in one of the rooms, and to light the lamp with which he had

provided himself, but to his surprise and consternation, found it

impossible to do either. An icy breath, which seemed to proceed from

some invisible person at his side, extinguished each match as he

lighted it. At this peculiarly terrifying turn of affairs Mr. Gunn

would have left the house and forfeited the amount of his wager, a

considerable one, but he was restrained by the fear of ridicule. He

steadied himself in the dark with what calmness he could, and waited

developments.

"For some time nothing occurred, and the young man was half-dozing,

when, after an hour or two, he was brought to his feet by a sudden yell

of pain or rage that seemed to come from under the house. This appeared

to be the signal for an outbreak of hideous noises all over the house.

The sound of running feet could be heard scurrying up and down the

stairs, hastening from one room to another, as if one person fled from

the pursuit of a second. This kept up for nearly an hour, but at last

ceased altogether, and for some time Mr. Gunn sat in darkness and

quiet, and had about concluded that the performance was over for the

night. At last, however, his attention was attracted by a white spot

that gradually appeared on the opposite wall.

"The spot continued to brighten, until it seemed a disc of white

fire, when the horrified spectator saw that the light emanated from

and surrounded a human head, which, without a body, or any visible

means of support, was moving slowly along the wall, about the height

of a man from the floor. This ghastly head appeared to be that of

an aged person, though whether male or female it was difficult to

determine. The hair was long and gray, and matted together with

dark clots of blood, which also issued from a deep jagged wound in

one temple. The cheeks were fallen in and the whole face indicated

suffering and unspeakable misery. The eyes were wide open, and gleamed

with an unearthly fire, while the glassy eyes seemed to follow the

terror-stricken Gunn, who was too thoroughly paralyzed by what he saw

to move or cry out. Finally, the head disappeared and the room was once

more left in darkness, but the young man could hear what seemed to be

half a dozen persons moving about him, while the whole house shook as

if rocked by some violent earthquake.

"The groaning and the wailing that broke forth from every direction was

something terrific, and an unearthly rattle and banging as of china

or tin pans being flung to the ground floor from the upper story added

to the deafening noise. Gunn at last roused himself sufficiently to

try and leave the haunted house. Feeling his way along the wall, in

order to avoid the beings, whatever they were, that filled the room,

the young man had nearly succeeded in reaching the door when he found

himself seized by the ankle and was violently thrown to the floor. He

was grasped by icy hands, which sought to grip him about the throat. He

struggled with his unseen foe, but was soon overpowered and choked into

insensibility. When found by his friends, his throat was black with the

marks of long, thin fingers, armed with cruel, curved nails.

"The only explanation which, can be found for these mysterious

manifestations is that about three months before, a number of bones

were discovered on the Walsingham place, which some declared even then

to be those of a human being. Mr. Walsingham pronounced them, however,

to be an animal's, and they were hastily thrown into an adjacent

limekiln. It is supposed to be the outraged spirit of a person to whom

they belonged in life which is now creating such consternation."

SHAKEN BY A GHOST

The following narrative is vouched for by Mrs. H. S. Iredell, of

Tunbridge Wells, England, a relative of the Rev. Dr. Lee, who gives the

case in his _Sights and Shadows_:

"The haunted house in question is near Wandsworth common. The late

occupants of it were a man, his wife and their child. They had to

leave it, for they could get no rest in it at night for the fearful

noises which went on incessantly, like sounds as of a sledge-hammer

wrapped in flannel struck against the walls. The sister-in-law of the

late occupants, who told me of it, had spent some days at the house,

so I heard all the story first-hand. One night she likewise felt as if

someone had taken her by the shoulders and she was being roughly shaken

from side to side. Her husband, who was with her, saw her at the time

she was being shaken by an invisible power, stretched out his hand

to take hold of her; but he felt right up his arm to his shoulder a

_shock_, as it were of electricity, which made him instantly draw back

and cry out. Nothing was ever seen, but in the special sleeping-room

which seemed to be haunted, the clothes used to be pulled off the bed

at night and thrown on the floor, and then they used to raise or rear

themselves up again on the bed....

"Since the above was written, it is reported, that no less than five

families have respectively occupied the house as tenants, who one and

all have left it as soon as possible. It is now said to be permanently

untenanted."

* * * * *

This case is given because of the incident of the "electric shock"

which the percipient received, when attempting to interfere with

the "spirit"; and serves as an interesting modern and apparently

well-authenticated instance of what occurred in Lytton's story, which

follows.

THE HOUSE AND THE BRAIN

Bulwer Lytton's story, "The House and the Brain," is, perhaps, the most

remarkable ghost story of this character on record, and is considered,

by many, the best ever written. The phenomena occur in a house which

is reputed to be haunted; no one will live in it. At last one brave

soul determines to pass the night within its walls; he and his servant

take up their abode in it, and, after various startling adventures of

a minor character, the "grand climax" of the night is reached. As the

author sat reading by the fire, the following occurred, which is told

in his own words:

"I now became aware that something interposed between the page and the

light--the page was over-shadowed; I looked up, and I saw what I shall

find it very difficult, perhaps impossible, to describe.

"It was a Darkness shaping itself forth from the air in very undefined

outline. I cannot say it was a human form, and yet it had more

resemblance to a human form, or rather shadow, than to anything else.

As it stood, wholly apart and distinct from the air and light around

it, its dimensions seemed gigantic, the summit nearly touching the

ceiling. While I gazed, a feeling of intense cold seized me. An iceberg

could not more have chilled me; nor could the cold of an iceberg have

been more purely physical. I feel convinced that it was not the cold

caused by fear. As I continued to gaze, I thought--but this I cannot

say with precision--that I distinguished two eyes looking on me from

the height. One moment I fancied that I distinguished them clearly; the

next they seemed gone; but still two rays of pale blue light frequently

shot through the darkness, as from the height on which, I half

believed, half doubted, that I had encountered the eyes.

"I strove to speak--my voice utterly failed me; I could only think to

myself, Is this fear? It is _not_ fear! I strove to rise; in vain; I

felt weighed down by an irresistible force. Indeed, my impression was

that of an immense and overwhelming Power opposed to my volition; that

sense of utter inadequacy to cope with a force beyond man's, which one

may feel _physically_ in a storm at sea, in a conflagration, or when

confronting some terrible wild beast--or rather, perhaps, the shark of

the ocean, I felt _morally_. Opposed to my will was another will, as

far superior to its strength as storm, fire and shark are superior in

material force to the force of man.

"And now--as this impression grew on me--now came, at last,

horror--horror of a degree that no words can convey. Still I retained

pride, if not courage; and in my own mind I said: 'This is horror, but

it is not fear; unless I fear I cannot be harmed; my reason rejects

this thing; it is an illusion--I do not fear.' With a violent effort I

succeeded at last in stretching out my hand towards the weapon on the

table; as I did so, on the arm and shoulder I received a strange shock,

and my arm fell to my side powerless. And now, to add to my horror,

the light began slowly to wane from the candles--they were not, as it

were, extinguished, but their flame seemed very gradually withdrawn--it

was the same with the fire; the light was extinguished from the fuel;

in a few minutes the room was in utter darkness. The dread that came

over me, to be thus in the dark with that Thing, whose power was so

intensely felt, brought on a reaction of nerve. In fact, terror had

reached that climax, that either my senses must have deserted me, or I

must have burst through the spell. I _did_ burst through it. I found

voice, though the voice was a shriek. I remember that I broke forth

with words like these--'I do not fear, my soul does not fear'; and at

the same time I found the strength to rise. Still in that profound

gloom I rushed to one of the windows--tore aside the curtain--flung

open the shutters; my first thought was--LIGHT. And when I saw the

moon high, clear and calm, I felt a joy that almost compensated me for

my previous terror. There was the moon; there also was the light from

the gas lamps in the deserted, slumberous street. I turned to look

back into the room; the moon penetrated its shadow very palely and

partially--but still there was light. The dark Thing, whatever it might

be, was gone--except that I could yet see a dim shadow, which seemed

the shadow of that shade against the opposite wall.

"My eye now rested on the table, and from under the table (which was

without cloth or cover--an old mahogany round table) there rose a

hand, visible as far as the wrist. It was a hand, seemingly, as much

of flesh and blood as my own, but the hand of an aged person--lean,

wrinkled, small too--a woman's hand. That hand very softly closed on

the two letters that lay on the table; hand and letters both vanished.

Then there came the same three loud, measured knocks I had heard on the

bed-head before this extraordinary drama commenced.

"As these sounds slowly ceased, I felt the whole room vibrate sensibly;

and at the far end there rose, from the floor, sparks or globules, like

globules of light, many colored--green, yellow, fire-red, azure. Up

and down, to and fro, hither, thither, as tiny Will o' the Wisps, the

sparks moved, slow and swift, each at its own caprice. A chair (as in

the drawing-room below) was now advanced from the wall without apparent

agency, and placed at the opposite side of the table. Suddenly, as

forth from the air, there grew a shape, a woman's shape. It was

distinct as a shape of life--ghastly as the shape of death. The face

was that of youth, with a strange, mournful beauty; the throat and

shoulders were bare; the rest of the form in a loose robe of cloudy

white. It began sleeking its long, yellow hair, which fell over its

shoulders; its eyes were not turned towards me, but to the floor; it

seemed listening, watching, waiting. The shadow of the shade in the

background grew darker; and again I thought I saw the eyes gleaming out

from the summit of the shadow--eyes fixed upon that shape.

"As if from the door, though it did not open, there grew out another

shape, equally distinct, equally ghastly--a man's shape--a young man's.

It was in the dress of the last century, or rather the likeness to such

dress (for both the male and the female, though defined, were evidently

unsubstantial, impalpable, simulacra, phantasms), and there was

something incongruous, grotesque, yet fearful in the contrast between

the elaborate finery, the courtly precision of that old-fashioned garb,

with its ruffles and lace and buckles, and the corpse-like aspect and

ghost-like stillness of the flitting wearer. Just as the male shape

approached the female, the dark shadow started from the wall, and

all three for a moment were wrapped in darkness. When the pale light

returned, the two phantasms were as if in the grasp of the shadow, that

towered between them, and there was a blood stain on the breast of the

female; and the phantom male was leaning on its phantom sword, and

blood seemed trickling fast from the ruffles, from the lace; and the

darkness of the intermediate Shadow swallowed them up--they were gone.

And again the bubbles of light shot, and sailed, and undulated, growing

thicker and thicker and more wildly confused in their movements.

"The closet door to the right of the fireplace now opened, and from

the aperture there came the form of an aged woman. In her hand she

held letters--the very letters over which I had seen the hand close;

and behind her I heard a footstep. She turned round as if to listen,

and then she opened her letters and seemed to read; and over her

shoulder I saw a livid face, the face of a man long drowned--bloated,

bleached--seaweed tangled in its dripping hair, and at her feet lay a

form as of a corpse, and beside the corpse there towered a child, a

miserable, squalid child, with famine in its cheeks and fear in its

eyes. And as I looked in the old woman's face, the wrinkles and lines

vanished; and it became the face of youth--hard-eyed, stony, but still

youth; and the Shadow darted forth and darkened over these phantoms as

it had darkened over the last.

"Nothing now was left but the Shadow, and on that my eyes were intently

fixed, till again eyes grew out of the Shadow--malignant, serpent

eyes. And the bubbles of light again rose and fell, and in their

disordered, irregular, turbulent maze, mingled with the wan moonlight.

And now from these globules themselves, as from the shell of an egg,

monstrous things burst out; the air grew filled with them; larvæ so

bloodless and so hideous that I can in no way describe them except

to remind the reader of the swarming life which the solar microscope

brings before the eyes in a drop of water--things transparent, supple,

agile, chasing each other, devouring each other--forms like nought

ever beheld by the naked eye. As the shapes were without symmetry, so

their movements were without order. In their very vagrancies there

was no sport; they came round me and round; thicker and faster and

swifter, swarming over my head, crawling over my right arm, which was

outstretched in involuntary command against all evil things. Sometimes

I felt myself touched, but not by them; invisible hands touched me.

Once I felt the clutch of cold, soft fingers at my throat, I was still

equally conscious that if I gave way to fear I should be in bodily

peril; and I concentrated all my faculties in the single focus of

resisting, stubborn will. And I turned my sight from the Shadow--above

all, from those strange serpent eyes--eyes that had now become

distinctly visible. For there, though in nought else round me, I was

aware that there was a WILL, and a will of intense, creative, working

evil, which might crush down my own.

"The pale atmosphere in the room began now to redden as if in the air

of some near conflagration. The larvæ grew lurid as things that live on

fire. Again the room vibrated; again I heard the three measured knocks;

and again all things were swallowed up in the darkness of the dark

shadow--as if out of that darkness all had come, into that darkness all

had returned.

"As the gloom receded, the Shadow was wholly gone. Slowly, as it had

been withdrawn, the flame grew again into the candles on the table,

again into the fuel in the grate....

"The room came once more calmly, healthfully into sight.

"Nothing more chanced for the rest of the night. Nor, indeed, had I

long to wait before the dawn broke...."

APPENDIX A

HISTORICAL GHOSTS

Royalty and well-known personages have seen ghosts in all ages of the

world's history; certainly they are not exempt from the common run of

humanity so far as ghostly visitations are concerned! Mr. Stead has

compiled a number of notable cases of this character, of which the

following are probably the most noteworthy:

ROYAL

_Henry IV._ of France told D'Aubigne that, in the presence of

himself, the Archbishop of Lyons, and three ladies of the Court, the

Queen (Margaret of Valois) saw the apparition of a certain Cardinal

afterwards found to have died at the moment.

_Abel the Fratricide_, King of Denmark, still haunts the woods of

Poole, near the city of Sleswig.

_Valdemar IV._ haunts Gurre Wood, near Elsinore.

_Charles XI._, of Sweden, accompanied by his chamberlain and state

physician, witnessed the trial of the assassin of Gartavus III., which

occurred nearly a century later.

_James IV._, of Scotland, was warned by an apparition against his

intended expedition into England. He, however, proceeded and fell at

Flodden Field.

_Charles I._, of England, was also warned by an apparition, but paying

no heed, was disastrously defeated at Naseby.

_Queen Elizabeth_ is said to have been warned of her death by the

apparition of her own double.

EMPERORS

_Trajan_ and _Caracalla_ both saw apparitions, which they recorded.

_Theodosius_ and _Julian the Apostate_ both beheld apparitions, at

important crises in their lives.

FAMOUS MEN

_Sir Robert Peel_ and his brother both saw Lord Byron in London when he

was in reality lying dangerously ill of a fever in Patras. During the

same fever, he also appeared to others.

_Julius Caesar_, _Xerxes_, _Drusus_, _Pausanius_, _Dio_ (General of

Syracuse), _Admiral Coligni_ all saw apparitions, which made a deep

impression on them in every case.

_Napoleon_, at St. Helena, saw and conversed with the apparition of

Josephine, who warned him of his approaching death. _Blucher_, on

the day of his death, was also told of it by an apparition. _General

Garfield_ saw and conversed with his father, latterly deceased.

_Lincoln_ had a certain premonitory dream which occurred three times

in relation to important battles, and the fourth on the eve of his

assassination.

_Dante_, son of the poet, was visited in a dream by his father, who

conversed with him and told him (correctly) where to find the missing

thirteen cantos of the "Commedia."

_Goethe_ saw his own double riding by his side under conditions which

really occurred years later.

_Tasso_ saw and conversed with beings invisible to those about him.

_Cellini_ was dissuaded from suicide by the apparition of a young man

who frequently visited and encouraged him.

_Mozart_ was visited by a mysterious person who ordered him to compose

a _requiem_, and came frequently to inquire after its progress, but

disappeared on its completion, which occurred just in time for its

performance at his own funeral.

_Ben Johnson_ was visited by the apparition of his eldest son with the

mark of a bloody cross upon his forehead at the moment of his death by

the plague.

_Thackery_ wrote: "It is all very well for you who have probably never

seen spirit manifestations to talk as you do, but had you seen what I

have witnessed you would hold a different opinion."

_Hugh Miller_, _Maria Edgeworth_, _Captain Marryat_, _Madame de Stael_,

_Sir Humphrey Davy_, _William Harvey_, _Francis Bacon_, _Martin

Luther_, _George Fox_, _Cardinal Newman_, _Bishop Wilberforce_, and

many others have seen apparitions, or held converse with the unseen

world in one form or another, as recorded by themselves.

Among the famous historical hauntings, we must not forget to mention

the famous _Cock Lane Ghost_ which occurred about 1760. According to a

brief paragraph printed in the _London Ledger_, 1762, we read that:

"For some time a great knocking having been heard in the night, at

the officiating parish clerk's of St. Sepulchre's, in Cock Lane near

Smithfield, to the great terror of the family, and all means used to

discover the meaning of it having failed, four gentlemen sat up there

last Friday night, among whom was a clergyman standing withinside the

door, who asked various questions. On his asking whether anyone had

been murdered, no answer was made; but on his asking whether anyone had

been poisoned, it knocked one and thirty times. The report current in

the neighborhood is that a woman was some time ago poisoned, and buried

in St. John's Clerkenwell, by her brother-in-law."

These knockings and phenomena occurred for a considerable time, until

the whole community became interested in the manifestations. While

various theories were advanced at the time--and since--to explain this

ghost, no definite conclusion has ever been arrived at.

The _Drummer of Tedworth_ is a still older and equally famous ghost,

who flourished about a hundred years before the Cock Lane Ghost, and

was investigated (and the results carefully recorded) by Sir Joseph

Glanvil, F.R.S., who wrote a book about the case: "_Sadducismus

Triumphatus_," which was also devoted to the general phenomena of

witchcraft. Here, also, we find records of unaccountable "knockings"

and similar phenomena, which lasted for a considerable time, and which

have never yet been explained.

The ghost which invaded _John Wesley's_ house stayed with them for

several years, and manifested his presence in a variety of elaborate

and ingenious ways. Those who are interested in this ghost and his

doings should read Wesley's _Journal_; also the various discussions,

_pro_ and _con._, which have appeared in the _Proceedings_ of the

Society for Psychical Research, from time to time. It is a most curious

and suggestive record.

The _Devils of Loudon_ might also be cited as an interesting case

of psychic phenomena; and here trance, automatic speech, etc., were

observed--as well as the usual physical phenomena. This is perhaps

one of the earliest cases which was closely observed, and in which

skeptical criticism was applied. This case will be found recorded in

Mr. H. Addington Bruce's "_Historic Ghosts and Ghost Hunters_."

APPENDIX B

THE PHANTOM ARMIES SEEN IN FRANCE

History abounds in cases showing the apparent intrusion of spiritual

help in time of trouble, and in the annals of military history, these

accounts are not lacking. On several occasions, the Crusaders thought

that they saw angelic hosts fighting for them--phantom horsemen

charging the enemy, when their own utter destruction seemed imminent.

In the wars between the English and the Scotch, several such cases were

cited, and the Napoleonic wars also furnished examples. But the most

striking evidence of this character--because the newest--and supported,

apparently, by a good deal of first-hand and sincere testimony, is

that afforded by the Phantom Armies seen in France during the retreat

of the British army from Mons--the field of Agincourt. Cut off by

overwhelming numbers, and all but annihilated, the British army fought

desperately, but the 80,000 were opposed by 300,000 Germans, backed by

a terrific fire of artillery, and were indeed in a critical position.

They were only saved, as we know, by the heroism of a small force of

men--a rearguard--who were practically wiped out in consequence. At the

most critical moment came what appeared to be angelic assistance. The

tide of battle seemed to be stemmed by supernatural means. In a letter

written by a soldier who actually witnessed these startling events,

quoted by the Hon. Mrs. St. John Mildmay (_North American Review_,

August, 1915), the following graphic account is given. Our soldier

writes--

"The men joked at the shells and found many funny names for them, and

had bets about them, and greeted them with music-hall songs, as they

screamed in this terrific cannonade.... The climax seemed to have been

reached, but 'a seven-times heated hell' of the enemy's onslaught fell

upon them, rending brother from brother. At that very moment, they saw

from their trenches a tremendous host moving against their lines. Five

hundred of the thousand (who had been detailed to fight the rear-guard

action) remained, and as far as they could see the German infantry was

pressing on against them, column by column, a grey world of men--10,000

of them, as it appeared afterwards. There was no hope at all. Some of

them shook hands. One man improvised a new version of the battle song

Tipperary, ending 'and we shan't get there!' And all went on firing

steadily.... The enemy dropped line after line, while the few machine

guns did their best. Everyone knew it was of no use. The dead grey

bodies lay in companies and battalions, but others came on and on,

swarming and advancing from beyond and beyond.

"'World without end, Amen,' said one of the British soldiers, with some

irreverence, as he took aim and fired. Then he remembered a vegetarian

restaurant in London, where he had once or twice eaten queer dishes of

cutlets made of lentils and nuts that pretended to be steaks. On all

the plates in this restaurant a figure of St. George was printed in

blue with the motto, _Adsit Anglis Sanctus Georgius_ (May St. George

be a present help to England!) The soldier happened to know 'Latin

and other useless things,' so now, as he fired at the grey advancing

mass, 300 yards away, he uttered the pious vegetarian motto. He went

on firing to the end, till at last Bill on his right had to clout him

cheerfully on the head to make him stop, pointing out as he did so that

the King's ammunition cost money and was not lightly to be wasted....

For, as the Latin scholar uttered his invocation, he felt something

between a shudder and an electric shock pass through his body. The roar

of the battle died down in his ears to a gentle murmur, and instead of

it, he says, he heard a great voice louder than a thunder peal, crying

'Array! Array!' His heart grew hot as a burning coal, then it grew cold

as ice within him, for it seemed to him a tumult of voices answered to

the summons. He heard or seemed to hear thousands shouting:

"'_St. George! St. George!_

"'_Ha! Messire, Ha! Sweet Saint, grant us good deliverance!_

"'_St. George for Merrie England!_

"'_Harow! Harow! Monseigneur St. George, succour us, Ha! St.

George! A low bow, and a strong bow, Knight of Heaven, aid us!_'

"As the soldier heard these voices, he saw before him, beyond the

trench, a long line of shapes with a shining about them. They were like

men who drew the bow, and with another shout their cloud of arrows flew

singing through the air toward the German host. The other men in the

trenches were firing all the while. They had no hope, but they aimed

just as if they had been shooting at Bisley.

"Suddenly one of these lifted up his voice in plain English. 'Gawd help

us,' he bellowed to the man next him, 'but we're bloomin' marvels! Look

at those grey gentlemen! Look at them! They're not going down in dozens

or hundreds--its _thousands_ it is! Look, look! There's a regiment gone

while I'm talking to ye!'

"'Shut it,' the other soldier bellowed, taking aim. 'What are ye

talkin' about?' But he gulped with astonishment even as he spoke, for

indeed the grey men were falling by the thousands. The English could

hear the guttural scream of their revolvers as they shot, and line

after line crashed to the earth. All the while the Latin-bred soldier

heard the cry 'Harow, Harow! Monseigneur! Dear Saint! Quick to our aid!

St. George help us!'

"The singing arrows darkened the air, the hordes melted before them.

'More machine guns,' Bill yelled to Tom. 'Don't hear them,' Tom yelled

back, 'but thank God, anyway, that they have got it in the neck!'

"In fact, there were ten thousand dead German soldiers left before

that salient of the English army, and consequently--_no Sedan_. In

Germany the General Staff decided that the English must have employed

turpenite shells, as no wounds were discernible on the bodies of the

dead soldiers. But the man who knew what nuts tasted like when they

called themselves steak, knew also that St. George had brought his

Agincourt Bowmen to help the English."

Such accounts have been confirmed by others. Thus, Miss Phyllis

Campbell, writing in "_The Occult Review_" (October, 1915), says:

"I tremble, now that it is safely past, to look back on the terrible

week that brought the Allies to Vitry-le-Francois. We had not had

our clothes off for the whole of that week, because no sooner had we

reached home, too weary to undress, or to eat, and fallen on our beds,

than the 'chug-chug' of the commandant's car would sound into the

silence of the deserted street, and the horn would imperatively summon

us back to duty--because, in addition to our duties as _ambulancier

auxiliare_, we were interpreters to the post, now at this moment

diminished to half-a-dozen.

"Returning at 4.30 in the morning, we stood on the end of the

platform, watching the train crawl through the blue-green mist of

the forest, into the clearing, and draw up with the first wounded

from Vitry-le-Francois. It was packed with dead and dying and badly

wounded. For a time we forgot our weariness in a race against

time--removing the dead and dying, and attending to those in need. I

was bandaging a man's shattered arm with the _majeur_ instructing me,

while he stitched a horrible gap in his head, when Madame de A----,

the heroic president of the post, came and replaced me. 'There is an

English in the fifth wagon,' she said. 'He wants something--I think a

holy picture!'

"The idea of an English soldier wanting a holy picture struck me, even

in that atmosphere of blood and misery, as something to smile at--but I

hurried away. 'The English' was a Lancashire Fusilier. He was propped

in a corner, his left arm tied-up in a peasant woman's handkerchief,

and his head newly bandaged. He should have been in a state of collapse

from loss of blood, for his tattered uniform was soaked and caked in

blood, and his face paper-white under the dirt of conflict. He looked

at me with bright, courageous eyes and asked for a picture or a medal

(he didn't care which) of St. George. I asked him if he was a Catholic.

'No,' he was Wesleyan Methodist, ... and he wanted a picture or a medal

of St. George, _because he had seen him on a white horse_, leading the

British at Vitry-le-Francois, when the Allies turned.

"There was an F.R.A. man, wounded in the leg, sitting beside him on

the floor; he saw my look of amazement, and hastened in: 'It's true,

sister,' he said. 'We all saw it. First there was a sort of yellow-mist

like, sort of risin' before the Germans as they came on the top of the

hill--come on like a solid wall, they did--springing out of the earth

just solid--no end to 'em! I just give up. No use fighting the whole

German race, thinks I; it's all up with _us_. The next minute comes

this funny cloud of light, and when it clears off, there's a tall man

with yellow hair in golden armour, on a white horse, holding his sword

up, and his mouth open as if he was saying: "Come on, boys! I'll put

the kybosh on the devils!" Sort of "This is my picnic" expression.

Then, before you could say "knife," the Germans had turned, and we were

after them, fighting like ninety....'

"'Where was this?' I asked. But neither of them could tell. They had

marched, fighting a rearguard action, from Mons, till St. George had

appeared through the haze of light, and turned the enemy. They both

_knew_ it was St. George. Hadn't they seen him with a sword on every

'quid' they'd ever seen? The Frenchies had seen him too--ask them; but

they said it was St. Michæl...."

Much additional testimony of a like nature might be given--and has

been collected by students of psychical research. If the spiritual

world ever intervenes in matters mundane, it assuredly did so on this

occasion. And it could hardly have chosen a more opportune time. Could

the aspiring thoughts of the dead and dying, and those still living

and fighting for their country, have drawn "St. George" to earth, to

aid in again redeeming his country from a foreign foe? Could a simple

"hallucination" have been so widespread and so prevalent? Or might

there not have been some spiritual energy behind the visions thus

seen--stimulating them, and inspiring and encouraging the stricken

soldiers? We cannot say. We only know what the soldiers themselves

say; and we also know the undoubted effects upon the enemy. For on

both occasions were the Germans repulsed with terrible slaughter.

Perhaps the vision of St. George led our soldiers into closer touch and

_rapport_ with the consciousness of some high intelligence--or the veil

was rent, separating the two worlds--as so often appears to be the case

in apparitions and visions of this character.

APPENDIX C

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ghost Stories of an Antiquary. M. R. James.

Wandering Ghosts. F. Marion Crawford.

John Silence. A. Blackwood.

Modern Ghosts. DeMaupassant, (and others).

Twenty-five Ghost Stories. W. Bob Holland.

A Book of Ghosts. Baring Gould.

The Shape of Fear. Peattie.

Book of Dreams and Ghosts. Andrew Lang.

Cock Lane and Common Sense. A. Lang.

Real Ghost Stories. W. T. Stead.