"Do I believe in ghosts?" asks Mr Andrew Lang. "One can only answer: 'How do you define a ghost?' I do believe, with all students of human nature, in hallucinations of one, or of several, or even of all the senses. But as to whether such hallucinations among the sane are ever caused by physical influence from the minds of others, alive or dead, not communicated through the ordinary channels of sense, my mind is in a balance of doubt. It is a question of evidence."

If the evidence of "hauntings" were measurable by bulk alone, no phase of occultism would be more completely demonstrated. It is only when we come to examine the quality of the available data that we realise how formidable a task it is we have undertaken. In nothing, perhaps, have credulity and superstition been allowed so wide a scope; nowhere is it more difficult to winnow the grain of reliable testimony from the chaff of mythology and invention. For we must remember that the belief in ghosts is as old as the hills themselves. It is common to all countries and to all nations, and in the literature of every language are to be found tales of the supernatural scarcely less plausible than many which assail our ears to-day.

What I now set myself to investigate is that class of phenomena seemingly attached to various localities and comprising, besides apparitions, sights and sounds of various kinds and degrees. According to Mr E. T. Bennett, for twenty years assistant secretary of the Psychical Research Society, the records of the Society contain descriptions of "a large number of cases in which the evidence of the reality of phenomena incapable of ordinary explanation is absolutely conclusive."

When the sounds are intelligible, or a sentence is spelt out in response to the inquiry of the auditor, the raison d'Être of the manifestation is more or less obvious. But there is evidence of a large number of so-called "hauntings" where steps are heard, or noises which convey no intelligible information. Sometimes, also, we are told that simultaneously with the death of a friend bangs have been heard, which, but for the coincidence of their occurrence in association with a death, are without meaning. M. Flammarion cites several cases of this sort. The following will serve as an illustration:—[2]

M. E. Deschaux relates that his grandfather "was awakened one evening at eleven P.M. by three very distinct raps on the door of his room. Astonished, he rose, lit the lamp, opened the door, but saw no one. Supposing that some trickster had been the cause of his disturbance, he returned to bed grumbling, but again three knocks were heard on the door. He got up quickly, intending that the culprit should pay dearly for his untimely joke, but in spite of careful search, both in the passage and on the staircase, he could not discover where this mysterious culprit had disappeared to. A third time, when he was again in bed, three raps were audible on the door. This time the grandfather had a presentiment that the sound was caused by the spirit of his mother, although nothing in the tidings he had previously received from his family incited him to this supposition. Five or six days after this manifestation a letter arrived from his own country announcing the death of his mother which had occurred precisely at the hour at which he had heard the knocks. At the moment of her death, his mother, who had a particular affection for him, had insisted that a dress which her 'boy in Paris' had some time before sent her as a present should be brought and placed on her bed."

Here we seem to have a distinct motive for the visitation; but on the other hand observe how many cases we come across where the phenomena appears to be due solely to the wanton and mischievous impulses of the invisible agents.

There is for example the case of a house in which spiritual manifestations, often of a disturbing character, were continually being produced, related by Mr Inkster Gilbertson in The Occult Review on the authority of a West End physician who is called Dr Macdonald. The swish of a silk dress and the slamming of doors were among the least important of the phenomena from a psychical point of view, though the sound of someone coming through a skylight and dropping on to the landing was certainly calculated to terrify the ladies, who "came up from the drawing-room screaming and shouting, expecting to find some dreadful tragedy being enacted." These manifestations consisted entirely of sounds, but at the regular sittings which were held in the house a drawer was taken from its place in the bedroom and left on the hall stand, the loose wooden leaves which converted a billiard-table into a dining-table were slid off the end and deposited on the floor, and a screen was several times seen to fold itself up without being touched.

The most peculiar occurrences, however, were the antics of certain keys belonging to doors in the house. "The door of the front bedroom was often found locked, and the key would disappear." The doctor kept his eye on the key and presently saw it move round, locking the door, and then "he saw the last of the key disappearing through the hole." At another time the lady of the house, her children, and the maid were locked in for some hours. "The key would be kept away for days; then it would suddenly appear. One day it was found in Mrs Macdonald's lap; once it was quietly laid on the doctor's head," and so forth. On one occasion when the key was not given up the doctor called out: "Won't you send us down the key before we go?" They were passing down the stairs and, before they reached the bottom, the key was gently dropped on the doctor's head. The most careful observations failed to discover the known means by which the feats could be accomplished. The evidence of the intelligence and of the mischievous disposition of these uncanny tricksters was borne out by sounds of dancing being heard outside the door just afterwards.

"The possible non-ghostly explanations," says Mrs Sidgwick, "of what pass as ghostly phenomena may be conveniently classed with reference to the various sorts of error by which the evidence to such phenomena is liable to be affected. I should state these as (1) hoaxing, (2) exaggeration or inadequate description, (3) illusion, (4) mistaken identity, (5) hallucination.... I think, however, that anyone who has read the evidence will at once discard the first of these alternatives so far as the great mass of the first-hand narratives is concerned."

There are not a few cases, however, where the ghostly manifestations have been found to be due to human agency. The following instance was brought to my notice by a well-known firm of estate agents at Tunbridge Wells:—

"There is an old Manor House in this district which is locally known as the 'Haunted House.' The original mansion was, according to Hasted, one of the homes of the Colepepers. In the reign of Charles II. the mansion was rebuilt in the style of the period. It has, however, outlived its purpose, is out of repair and was for many years let in tenements to labourers. It is now untenanted. Some few months ago the lurid tales of ghostly visitors induced a local spiritualist, encouraged by some mischievous friends, to hold a sÉance in the house at midnight, and to perambulate the rambling building from time to time during the night. The spirits lived up to their reputation and gave all kinds of manifestations which included streams of water from invisible buckets that met the investigator as he groped up the staircase and along the passages. In the end the whole thing was found to be a hoax and to have been organised by the spiritualist's friends. He is not communicative on the subject. The old house still stands empty and deserves a better fate."

The classic case of haunting in England is, perhaps, that of Willingdon Mill. Other spectre-ridden edifices in the kingdom there may well be, but their stories, however grim and ghastly, are apt to relapse into insignificance beside those narrated of this famous Tyneside building.

Willingdon Mill, which is situated in Northumberland nearly half-way between Newcastle and North Shields, was built about the year 1800. When, thirty-four years later, certain unaccountable noises and other phenomena began to attract attention the occupants consisted of a worthy Quaker, Joseph Proctor by name, his wife, servants and family. Joseph Proctor used to keep a diary wherein he chronicled the strange happenings in his house. The greater portion of this was published in The Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, vol. v., but full accounts of the affair have appeared in many publications, among which may be mentioned Howitt's "Visits to Remarkable Places," Crowe's "Night Side of Nature," "The Local Historian's Table Book," and Stead's "Real Ghost Stories."

It was a servant girl that first called attention to the mysterious noises. She positively affirmed that she had heard "a dull heavy tread on the boarded floor of the room unoccupied above, commonly pacing backwards and forwards and, on coming over to the window, giving the floor such a shake as to cause the windows of the nursery to rattle violently in their frames." This disturbance usually lasted about ten minutes at a time. At first the girl's tale was discredited, but before many days had elapsed every member of the family had heard precisely what the girl described. The room was vigorously searched but no clue to the phantom footsteps was forthcoming. Even the expedient of covering the floor with flour was without result; the "dull, heavy tread" left no traces upon the whitened boards.

It was not long before other unaccountable noises were heard all over the house and ghostly figures were seen by several persons. To illustrate the kind of occurrence that was constantly going on in the house, and which, indeed, became so frequent that they were thought very little of, I quote the following extracts from Joseph Proctor's diary:—

"7 mo., 14th, 1841:—J. and E. P. heard the spirit in their own room, and in the room overhead, making a noise as of something heavy being hoisted or rolled, or like a barrel set down on its end; also noises in the Camproom of various and unaccountable character.

---

"8 mo., 3rd.—Since the last night there have been few nights during which some branch of the family has not heard our visitor. One night, J. P. was awoke and heard something hastily walk, with a step like that of a child of 8 or 10 years, from the foot of the bed towards the side of the room, and come back seemingly towards the door, in a run; then it gave two stamps with one foot; there was a loud rustling as if of a frock or night-dress. I need scarcely say the door was locked, and I am quite certain there was no other human being in the room save E. P., who was asleep. The two stamps aroused E. P. out of her sleep. About this time Joseph, on two or three occasions, said he had heard voices from underneath his bed and from other parts of the room, and described seeing on one occasion a boy in a drab hat much like his own, the boy much like himself too, walking backwards and forwards between the windows and the wardrobe. He was afraid, but did not speak.

"Noises as of a band-box falling close at hand, as of someone running upstairs when no one was there, and like the raking of a coal rake, were heard about this time by different members of the family."

---

"8 mo., 6th.—On the night of the third, just after the previous memorandum was written, about 10.30 P.M., the servants having all retired to bed, J. and E. P. heard a noise like a clothes horse being thrown down in the kitchen. Soon the noises became louder and appeared as though some persons had burst into the house on the ground floor and were clashing the doors and throwing things down. Eventually J. P. got one of the servants to go downstairs with him, when all was found right, no one there, and apparently nothing moved. The noises now began on the third storey, and the servants were so much alarmed that it was difficult to get them to go to bed at all that night.

---

"8 mo., 6th to 12th.—My brother-in-law, George Carr, was with us. He heard steppings and loud rumblings in the middle of the night, and other noises."

A curious feature in this case was the number of apparitions seen. Thus we have clear testimony of the presence of a lady in a lavender silk dress, of an old bald-headed man in a flowing robe like a surplice, of a lady in grey, and of a horrid eyeless spectre who glared fixedly at the world through empty eyeholes. Added to these there were animals of all sorts and descriptions, cats, monkeys, rabbits and sheep.

"On one occasion, during the period that Thomas was courting Mary, he was standing at the window outside (no followers being allowed inside, lest fabulous reports were sent abroad). He had given the usual signal. The night was clear, and the stars beamed forth their light from a cloudless sky. Suddenly something appeared which arrested my father's attention. Looking towards the mill, which was divided from the house by an open space, he beheld what he supposed was a whitish cat. It came walking along in close proximity to his feet. Thinking Miss Puss very cheeky he gave her a kick; but his foot felt nothing and the cat quietly continued its march, followed by my father, until it suddenly disappeared from his gaze. Still the ghost was not thought of by him. Returning to the window and looking in the same direction, he again beheld it suddenly come into existence. This time it came hopping like a rabbit, coming quite as close to his feet as before. He determined to have a good rap at it, and took deliberate aim; but, as before, his foot went through it and felt nothing. Again he followed it, and it disappeared at the same spot as its predecessor. The third time he went to the window, and in a few moments it made its third appearance, not like unto a cat or a rabbit, but fully as large as a sheep, and quite luminous. On it came and my father was fixed to the spot. All muscular power seemed for the moment paralysed. It moved on, disappearing at the same spot as the preceding apparitions. My father declared that if it was possible for 'hair to stand on end' his did just then. Thinking that for once he had seen sufficient, he went home, keeping the knowledge of this scene to himself."

It is not to be wondered at if the queer doings at Willingdon Mill began to be rumoured abroad. They reached the ears of a certain Dr Edward Drury of Sunderland, who was, not unnaturally, rather sceptical. He asked and obtained permission to sit up alone in the house one night accompanied only by his faithful dog and with a pair of pistols in his pocket. His opportunity came in July, 1840, when all the family, with the exception of Joseph Proctor himself, was away from the mill. The night was fruitful with horror, and the following letter addressed to the miller nearly a week after the event tells its own tale:—

"Monday Morning,

"6th July, 1840.

"To Mr Proctor.

"Dear Sir,—I am sorry I was not at home to receive you yesterday, when you kindly called to inquire for me. I am happy to state that I am really surprised that I have been so little affected as I am after that horrid and most awful affair. The only bad effect I feel is a heavy dulness in one of my ears—the right one. I call it a heavy dullness, because I not only do not hear distinctly but feel in it a constant noise. This I never was affected with before; but I doubt not it will go off. I am persuaded that no one went to your house at any time more disbelieving in respect to seeing anything peculiar; now no one can be more satisfied than myself. I will, in the course of a few days, send you a full detail of all I saw and heard. Mr Spence and two other gentlemen came down to my house in the afternoon to hear my detail; but, sir, could I account for these noises from natural causes, yet, so firmly am I persuaded of the horrid apparition, that I would affirm that what I saw with my eyes was a punishment to me for my scoffing and unbelief; that I am assured that, as far as the horror is concerned, they are happy that believe and have not seen ... it will be a great source of joy to me if you never allow your young family to be in that horrid house again. Hoping you will write a few lines at your leisure, I remain, dear sir, yours very truly,

"Edward Drury."

To this letter the sturdy Quaker sent a characteristic reply.

"Willingdon,

"7th mo., 9, 1840.

"Respected Friend, E. Drury,—Have been at Sunderland, I did not receive thine of the 6th till yesterday morning. I am glad to hear thou art getting well over the effects of thy unlooked-for visitation. I hold in respect thy bold and manly assertion of the truth in the face of that ridicule and ignorant conceit with which that which is called the supernatural, in the present day, is usually assailed.

"I shall be glad to receive thy detail, in which it will be needful to be very particular in showing that thou couldst not be asleep, or attacked by nightmare, or mistake a reflection of the candle, as some sagaciously suppose. I remain, respectfully, thy friend,

"Josh. Proctor.

"P.S.—I have about thirty witnesses to various things which cannot be satisfactorily accounted for on any other principle than that of spiritual agency."

Four days later Dr Drury wrote out a full account of his experience.

"Sunderland,

"13th July 1840.

"Dear Sir,—I hereby, according to promise in my last letter, forward you a true account of what I saw and heard at your house, in which I was led to pass the night from various rumours circulated by most respectable parties, particularly from an account by my esteemed friend, Mr Davison, whose name I mentioned to you in a former letter. Having received your sanction to visit your mysterious dwelling, I went, on the 3rd of July, accompanied by a friend of mine, T. Hudson. This was not according to promise, nor in accordance with my first intent, as I wrote you I would come alone; but I felt gratified at your kindness in not alluding to the liberty I had taken, as it ultimately proved for the best. I must here mention that, not expecting you at home, I had in my pocket a brace of pistols, determining in my mind to let one of them drop before the miller, as if by accident, for fear he should presume to play tricks upon me; but after my interview with you, I felt there was no occasion for weapons, and did not load them, after you had allowed us to inspect as minutely as we pleased every portion of the house. I sat down on the third storey landing, fully expecting to account for any noises that I might hear, in a philosophical manner. This was about eleven o'clock P.M. About ten minutes to twelve we both heard a noise, as if a number of people were pattering with their bare feet upon the floor; and yet, so singular was the noise, that I could not minutely determine from whence it proceeded. A few minutes afterwards we heard a noise, as if someone was knocking with his knuckles among our feet; this was followed by a hollow cough from the very room from which the apparition proceeded. The only noise after this, was as if a person was rustling against the wall in coming upstairs. At a quarter to one I told my friend that, feeling a little cold, I would like to go to bed, as we might hear the noise equally well there; he replied he would not go to bed till daylight. I took up a note which I had accidentally dropped and began to read it, after which I took out my watch to ascertain the time, and found that it wanted ten minutes to one. In taking my eyes from the watch they became riveted upon a closet door, which I distinctly saw open, and saw also the figure of a female attired in greyish garments, with the head inclining downwards, and one hand pressed upon the chest as if in pain, and the other—viz. the right hand—extended towards the floor, with the index finger pointing downward. It advanced with an apparently cautious step across the floor towards me; immediately as it approached my friend, who was slumbering, its right hand was extended towards him; I then rushed at it, giving, as Mr Proctor states, a most awful yell; but instead of grasping it I fell upon my friend, and I recollected nothing distinctly for nearly three hours afterwards. I have since learned that I was carried downstairs in an agony of fear and terror.

---

"I hereby certify that the above account is strictly true and correct in every respect.

"Edward Drury."

So intolerable became life in this uncanny house that, in 1847, Joseph Proctor and his family moved to South Shields. For the last night of their residence was reserved a more than usually turbulent demonstration. "There were," says Mr Edmund Proctor, "continuous noises during the night, boxes being apparently dragged with heavy thuds down the now carpetless stairs, non-human footsteps stumped on the floors, doors were, or seemed to be, clashed, and impossible furniture corded at random or dragged hither and thither by inscrutable agency; in short, a pantomimic or spiritualistic repetition of all the noises incident to a household flitting. A miserable night my father and mother had of it, as I have often heard from their own lips; not so much from terror at the unearthly noises, for to these they were habituated, as dread lest this wretched fanfaronade might portend the contemporary flight of the unwelcome visitors to the new abode. Fortunately for the family this dread was not realised."

After undergoing various vicissitudes, the house was finally divided into small tenements, in which condition it still remains. But of late years nothing has been seen or heard of the ghostly visitors. Perhaps, smitten with dismay by the deterioration of their former dwelling-place, they have taken up their abode elsewhere. For Willingdon Mill, formerly gay with flowers and creepers, is now a wreck of its former self. The mill is used as a warehouse; the stables and outhouses have been pulled down; while the house stands out gaunt and forbidding, a picture of desolation and decay.

Mr W. T. Stead, in his "Real Ghost Stories," has given us many thrilling examples of nocturnal apparitions, and of these the uncanny experience of the Rev. H. Elwyn Thomas, of 35 Park Village East, N. W., is well worth repeating.

Mr Thomas, after having conducted a service at the church at Llangynidr, accompanied three young friends of his for about half-a-mile on their homeward way.

"When I wished good-night to my friends, it was about twenty minutes to nine, but still light enough to see a good distance. The subject of our conversation all the way from the chapel until we parted was a certain eccentric old character who then belonged to the Crickhowell church. Many laughable incidents in his life had been related by my friends for my amusement, at which I laughed heartily again and again. I walked a little farther down the road than I intended, in order to hear the end of a very amusing story about him and the vicar of a neighbouring parish. Our conversation had no reference whatever to ghosts or ghostly things. Neither were we in the mood befitting a ghostly visitation. Personally I was a strong disbeliever in ghosts, and invariably ridiculed those who I then thought superstitious enough to believe in them.

"When I had walked about a hundred yards away from my friends I saw on the bank of the canal (which runs parallel with the road for six or seven miles) what I thought at the moment was an old beggar. The spot was a very lonely one. The nearest house was a good quarter of a mile away. The night was as silent as death. Not a single sound broke upon the silence from any quarter. I could not help asking myself where this old man had come from to such a place. I had not seen him in going down the road.

"I then turned round quite unconcernedly to have another look at him, and had no sooner done so than I saw within half-a-yard of me one of the most remarkable and startling sights I hope it will ever be my lot to see. Almost on a level with my own face I saw that of an old man, over every feature of which the putty-coloured skin was drawn tightly, except the forehead which was lined with deep wrinkles. The lips were extremely thin, and appeared perfectly bloodless. The toothless mouth stood half open. The cheeks were hollow and sunken like those of a corpse, and the eyes, which seemed far back in the middle of the head, were unnaturally luminous and piercing. This terrible object was wrapped in two bands of old yellow calico, one of which was drawn under the chin and over the cheeks and tied at the top of the head, the other was drawn round the top of the wrinkled forehead and fastened at the back of the head. So deep and indelible an impression it made on my mind, that were I an artist I could paint that face to-day, and reproduce the original (excepting, perhaps, the luminous eyes) as accurately as if it were photographed.

"What I have thus tried to describe in many words, I saw at a glance. Acting on the impulse of the moment, I turned my face again towards the village, and ran away from the horrible vision with all my might for about sixty yards. I then stopped and turned round to see how far I had outdistanced it, and, to my unspeakable horror, there it was still face to face with me, as if I had not moved an inch. I grasped my umbrella and raised it to strike him, and you can imagine my feelings when I could see nothing between the face and the ground except an irregular column of intense darkness, through which my umbrella went as a stick goes through water!

"I am sorry to confess that I again took to my heels with increasing speed. A little farther than the place of this second encounter, the road which led towards my host's house branched off the main road, the main road itself running right through the centre of the village, in the lower end of which it ran parallel with the churchyard wall. Having gone a few yards down the branch road, I reached a crisis in my fear and confusion when I felt I could act rationally: I determined to speak to the strange pursuer whatever he was, and I boldly turned round to face him for the third time, intending to ask him what he wanted, etc.,

"He had not followed me after I left the main road, but I could see the horribly fascinating face quite as plainly as when it was close by. It stood for two or three minutes looking intently at me from the centre of the main road. I then realised fully it was not a human being in flesh and blood; and with every vestige of fear gone I quickly walked towards it to put my questions. But I was disappointed, for no sooner had I made towards it than it moved quickly in the direction of the village. I saw it moving along, keeping the same distance from the ground, until it reached the churchyard wall; it then crossed the wall, and disappeared near where the yew-tree stood inside. The moment it disappeared I became unconscious. When I came to myself, two hours later, I was lying in the middle of the road, cold and ill. It took me quite an hour to reach my host's house, which was less than half-a-mile away, and when I reached it I looked so white and strange that my host's daughter, who had sat down with her father to wait my return, uttered a loud scream. I could not say a word to explain what had happened, though I tried hard several times. It was five o'clock in the morning when I regained my power of speech; even then I could only speak in broken sentences. The whole of the following week I was laid up with great nervous prostration.

"The strangest part of my story remains yet to be told. My host, after questioning me closely in regard to the features of the face, the place I had first seen it and the spot where it disappeared, told me that fifteen years before that time an old recluse, answering in every detail to my description (calicoes, bands and all), lived in a house whose ruins still stand close by where I first saw it, that he was buried in the exact spot in the churchyard where I saw the face disappearing, and that he was a very strange character altogether.

"I should like to add that I had not heard a syllable about this old man before the night in question, and that all the persons referred to in the above story are still alive."

Here is a curious story which recently attracted my attention in Light. The narrator is a Colonel X.

"When I was a young chap I was on guard at the Tower. One night the sentry came to tell me that there was something very extraordinary going on in the White Chapel, which, in those days, was used as a storeroom.

"I went out with him, and we saw the windows lit up. We climbed up and looked in, and saw a chapter with an altar brilliantly lit up, and presently priests in vestments and boys swinging silver censers came in and arranged themselves before an altar. Then the large entrance doors opened and a procession of persons in old quaint costumes filed in. Walking alone was a lady in black, and behind her was a masked man, also in black, who carried an axe. While we looked it all faded away, and there was utter darkness.

"Of course, I talked about this vision everywhere and got so laughed at that I resolved to keep it to myself. One day a gentleman introduced himself as the keeper of the records of the Tower, and said that he had heard my story, but wished to hear it again from my own lips; and when I had told it he remarked: 'Strange to say, that very same vision has been seen by someone every thirty years since Anne Boleyn's death.'"

It not infrequently happens that houses reputed to be haunted figure in a court of law. The late Dr Frederick Lee, in "Sights and Shadows," gives an account of such a case which occurred in Ireland in the year 1890.

"A house on the marsh at Drogheda had been let by its owner, Miss Weir, to a Mr and Mrs Kinney, at an annual rental of £23.

"The last-named persons took possession of it in due course; but two days subsequently they became aware of the presence of a spirit or ghost in their sleeping chamber, which, as Mrs Kinney asserted, 'threw heavy things at her,' and so alarmed and inconvenienced her, that in a very short period both husband and wife were forced to quit their abode.

"This they did shortly after they had taken possession of it; and, because of occurrences referred to, were legally advised to decline to pay any rent. The landlady, however, refusing to release them from their bargain, at once claimed a quarter's rent; and when this remained for sometime unpaid, sued them for it before Judge Kisby.

"A solicitor, Mr Smith, of Drogheda, appeared for the tenants, who, having given evidence of the facts concerning the ghost in question, asked leave to support their sworn testimony by that of several other people. This, however, was disallowed by the judge.

"It was admitted by Miss Weir that nothing either on one side or the other had been said regarding the haunting when the house was let; yet that the rent was due and must be paid.

"A judgment was consequently entered for the landlady although it had been shown indirectly that unquestionably the house had the reputation of being haunted, and that previous tenants had been much inconvenienced and affrighted."

Another case is chronicled which took place in Dublin in 1885. Dr Lee's account is confirmed by The Evening Standard of February 23rd of that year.

"Mr Waldron, a solicitor, sued his next-door neighbour, one Kiernan, a mate in the merchant service, to recover £500 for damages done to his house. Kiernan altogether denied the charges, but asserted that Waldron's residence was notoriously haunted. Witnesses proved that every night from August 1884, to January 1885, stones were thrown at the windows and doors and other serious damage done—in fact that numerous extraordinary and inexplicable occurrences constantly took place.

"Mrs Waldron, wife of the plaintiff, swore that one night she saw one of the panes of glass of a certain window cut through with a diamond, and a white hand inserted through the hole. She at once caught up a bill-hook and aimed a blow at the hand, cutting off one of the fingers. Neither this finger, however, could be found nor were any traces of blood seen.

"A servant of hers was sorely persecuted by noises and the sound of footsteps. Mr Waldron, with the aid of detectives and policemen, endeavoured to find the cause, but with no avail. The witnesses in this case were closely cross-examined, but without shaking their testimony. The facts appeared to be proved, so the jury found for Kiernan, the defendant. At least twenty persons had testified on oath to the fact that the house had been known to have been haunted."

The possible agency of small boys in the matter of stone-throwing is apparently overlooked, while it can be easily imagined that a servant girl, well aware of the uncanny reputation of the house she lived in, would very soon develop a capacity for hearing mysterious sounds and footsteps on the smallest provocation. Then again the testimony of the plaintiff's wife was surely very damaging to her own case since she was, presumably, endeavouring to prove that the whole of the "extraordinary and inexplicable occurrences" were due to some mad freak on the part of her neighbour.

On the whole I can find no class of occult phenomena of greater antiquity and persistence than that of haunting. Even though the ghost may not be as visible as that of Hamlet's father, yet the idea of a perturbed spirit revisiting its former haunts or the scene of its bodily murder finds credence amongst all peoples and epochs in the world's history. Fable is usually the dulled image of the truth: just as what we call presentiment or rumour is a kind of aura or van-wind of truth. On these grounds alone I should be inclined to take the legendary evidence for haunting seriously, just as every man who investigates its astonishing history now perceives that witchcraft is not to be dismissed as a mere groundless superstition. Indeed, I lay it down as a proposition that any belief which spontaneously and universally arises and persistently survives must have truth in the web of it. But the modern authentic testimony for haunting is so clear and strong and the attestors so clear-headed and indeed inexpugnable that we must really believe the physical sounds, with their revealed significance, actually occurred and do occur. Hallucination I put here out of the question. Neither will the theory of telepathy between the living serve to account for anything here.

There is some other solution of the mystery. Has it been propounded? We shall see. Cock Lane is not now to be dismissed derisively. Nor are these manifestations to be treated in the spirit of one of the characters in Mr Wells' "Love and Mr Lewisham"—"Even if it be true—it is all wrong."