An old mail guard, who had served the Government in that capacity for forty years, and who was in receipt of a pension of eighty pounds per annum, was in the habit of coming to London during the summer season and taking service on one of the “Revival” coaches; he rode behind me for three seasons to Rochester, and two to Brighton, and behind Chandos Pole, upon that road, for many more. His anecdotes were inexhaustible; he recounted the most incredible catalogue of accidents, attacks, delays, impediments to the mails he had been on, in all of which he had played the hero’s part. His quixotic triumphs over every sort of difficulty were most amusing, and not without result, as I know, on one occasion, he declined a Saturday journey behind me to Brighton. He had one ghost only upon this road, whose appearances, however, were so innocent and evident that he was obliged to draw largely upon his imagination, and borrow matter from other goblins, in order to make him sufficiently sensational. I give the naked tale, and leave the garnishing of “Old Mac” to the imagination of my readers.
Upon the side of the highroad to Brighton, not a hundred miles from Handcross, there stands, in its own ornamental grounds, one of those very picturesque residences which is neither a villa nor a mansion, though it combined the modesty of the one with the importance of the other. The house was sufficiently retired from the road to admit of a spacious lawn studded with ornamental trees of considerable size, which gave the whole thing a park-like appearance, and, standing as it did upon an eminence, presented a generally picturesque appearance.
The owner of this property was a gentleman of independent means, and of rather eccentric habits. He resided all the year round at ——, never went into society, and never entertained friends at home.
Many years were passed in the quiet routine of everyday life; nothing remarkable occurred except that the owner was absent daily for several hours, and could not be induced to give any explanation of whither he went, or otherwise account for his absence. When closely questioned by his wife, he used to evade the subject, and implore her not to press her inquiry upon him, as, if he were to disclose the secret, he might never be allowed to return.
Time went on, and the anxiety (to say nothing of the curiosity) of the wife to solve this mysterious absence and the secrecy it involved, induced her to communicate with a private inquiry office to solve it.
This step was no sooner taken than an end was put to all local evidence, by the sudden disappearance of the gentleman, without leaving the slightest clue to his whereabouts. Coverts were searched, ponds dragged, rewards offered, all in vain. No word was ever heard from that day to this of the missing gentleman. The wife continued to live at —— until her death, which occurred several years after the mysterious disappearance of her husband. And, during these years, the room which had been occupied by the gentleman, upon the ground-floor (window opening upon the lawn) was still visited on occasions by an apparition, who frequently changed his hat and gloves, leaving old ones behind, and taking those which were always neatly brushed and laid out for his use.
There is a broad quick-set hedge, cut square upon the top, separating the premises from the highroad, and, walking upon this hedge, may be seen on almost any night the “Spectre Squire.”