"Witches and ghosts prefer for their sabbath a fine moonlight night to such weather as this!"
These words were uttered in a solemn tone, and with strange emphasis, by one of the company. He was a tall, dark-looking man, and I had set him down in my own mind as a traveling merchant or peddler. My next neighbor was a gay, well-looking, fashionably-dressed young man, who, bursting into a peal of laughter, said:
"You must know the manners and customs of ghosts very well, to be able to tell that they dislike getting wet or muddy."
The first speaker, giving him a dark fierce look, said:
"Young man, speak not so lightly of things above your comprehension."
"Do you mean to imply that there are such things as ghosts?"
"Perhaps there are, if you had courage to look at them."
The young man stood up, flushed with anger. But presently resuming his seat, he said, calmly:
"That taunt should cost you dear, if it were not such a foolish one."
"A foolish one!" exclaimed the merchant, throwing on the table a heavy leathern purse. "There are fifty guineas. I am content to lose them, if, before the hour is ended, I do not succeed in showing you, who are so obstinately prejudiced, the form of any one of your deceased friends; and if, after you have recognized him, you allow him to kiss your lips."