excellent kitchen, sub-terrene on the one side,
but, owing to the peculiar formation of the
ground on which the cottage stood, super-
terrene on the other, with a window looking to
the garden. Excepting a door opening into the
scullery, there was but one other, that through
which a flight of ten steps led up to the hall
passage. Let this be remembered.

The rent demanded for Grisewood Cottage
was exceedingly moderate—so low, indeed, as to
have induced the in-coming tenant to make the
unwonted inquiry, whether something
prejudicial to health or comfort might not have
suggested the terms proposed.

The agent had smiled.

Why did the agent smile? Because he was
a man of some penetration, and saw in his
questioner a person who would take the initiative in
smiling, if he—the agent—did not, when told
what the latter was bound to disclose, namely,
that Grisewood Cottage, like dozens, scores, of
other desirable dwellings in the superstitious
west, had been suspected of a certain amount
of—hauntedness.

Mr. Gauntrell did smile.

"Not sufficient, I conclude, to interfere with
our convenience?" he inquired.

"Quite the reverse," was the prompt reply.

"The reverse?"

"Literally so. It has been found of absolute
service."

"You excite my curiosity. Pray be
explicit."

The agent paused.

"Sir," he said, "I am not only bound, but
perfectly willing, to tell you what is the matter
with this house, and I could do so in two words.
So far, I am in your hands. But, if I mistake
not, you have made up your mind, ghost or no
ghost, to take the cottage, and I am tempted to
ask your permission to withhold the information
you have a right to require, in order that you
may, unprejudiced by any previous warning,
observe the disturbing influence, and probably
detect its mysterious origin, for yourself. In
doing so, you would not only confer on the
landlord a service for which, I am sure, he would
willingly place the house at your disposal for a
term, rent free, but would also disabuse the
rustic mind in your vicinity of superstitious
fancies which are but too apt to influence it."

The shrewd agent had not misjudged Mr.
Gauntrell's disposition. Nothing, perhaps,
except, it may be, the unexpected appearance of a
vast shoal of perch, on the feed, could have
pleased him more than such an opportunity.
The bargain was at once struck, and the family,
consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Gauntrell, two
daughters, a son (a young Cantab, reading, in his
vacation, for honours), and four servants, entered
into residence.

For about three weeks, all went tranquilly.
The locality was charmingly rural, the perch fed
like famished aldermen, and the ghost, to say
truth, had been entirely forgotten—when, one
night, Mr. Gauntrell, who had remained up
later than usual, writing letters in his study,
received an unexpected visit from his footman-
butler. Thomas was a cool, intelligent London
servant, and had been for several years in his
present situation.

"There's something very queer below, sir,"
said the man, in a low, serious tone.

"'Queer?'" said Mr. Gauntrell, the agent's
report suddenly flashing on his mind. "What
do you make of it, Thomas?"

"Can't make nothing of it, sir, or I shouldn't
have troubled you, so late as it is," said Thomas.
"Perhaps you wouldn't mind stepping down,
sir?"

"Not at all. Who's below?"

"Emma (the lady's-maid) and Jane are sitting
on the stairs, sir. Cook said her nerves
wouldn't stand it no longer, and she went to
bed."

"Why had you all sat up so late?"

"It kept a coming and a going, sir," said
Thomas, "and we was waiting till it was full
on, thinking that was the time for you to see
it."

"'It,' man! Is it a ghost?" asked Mr.
Gauntrell, as they left the room.

Thomas only shook his head doubtfully, and
followed his master down stairs.

"No light?" said Mr. Gauntrell, feeling his
way.

"We thought you'd see better without one,
sir," was Thomas's reply.

Emma and Jane were sitting, arm in arm,
nearly at the top of the little flight of stairs,
within sight, and very easy reach, of the study
door. All below seemed as dark as night could
make it.

"I think it must be gone for good and all,"
said Thomas, stretching down cautiously.

Mr. Gauntrell was becoming impatient.

"Come, come," he said, "what is all this
about? What have you seen? What do you
fear?"

Thus urged, Thomas delivered the following
explanation:

It would seem that one night, about a week
after the arrival of the family, as Emma was
sitting alone at work in the kitchen, the door
standing ajar, she became suddenly sensible of
an augmentation of light in the room. Aware
that no one had entered, she put her hand to her
cap, under the impression that it had taken fire.
The cap, however, was all right. She looked
eagerly round. Neither fire nor smoke was
visible, nor did any smell of burning accompany
the phenomenon. Nevertheless, the light
disseminated by her solitary candle had increased
twenty-fold!

Seized with an unaccountable panic, the girl,
catching up her candlestick, darted from the
room. The darkness of the passage caused her
to observe that the candle had been extinguished
in her rapid movement. She glanced back.
The kitchen was filled with a whitish lustre as
bright as day!

The cook, who had not yet retired to bed,
listened with considerable alarm to Emma's
statement of what was occurring in her own