He walked rapidly away. We opened the door of the summer-house and found the student in convulsions. A paper, signed with the name “Francis Villiers,” was on the table. As soon as the student’s senses were restored, he asked vehemently where was the vile sorcerer who had subjected him to such a horrible ordeal—he would kill him! He sought him throughout the inn in vain; then, with the speed of a madman, he dashed off across the fields in pursuit of him—and we never saw either of them again.
That, children, is my Ghost Story!
“And how is it, good uncle, that after that, you don’t believe in ghosts?” said I, the first time I heard it.
“Because, my boy,” replied my uncle, “neither the student or the merchant ever returned; and the forty-five guineas, belonging to me and the other travelers, continued equally invisible. Those two swindlers carried them off, after having acted a farce, which we, like ninnies, believed to be real.”
WHAT DOST THOU WORK FOR?
———
BY CAROLINE F. ORNE.
———
What dost thou work for, oh, tree of the forest,