GHOSTS.

HERE is probably no combination of letters in the English language productive of such

a creepy, blood-curdling, and cold-shuddering sensation as that which gives a title to this essay. Whenever you meet the word, it startles you by a strangely sudden way it has of appearing to leap at you. It strikes you with an unexpected blow, and seems to stare from the page with hollow, unfathomable eyes. No; it is not on account of the ideas it evokes. I believe if G-H-O-S-T spelt strawberries and cream, roast goose and applesauce, or champagne and kisses, it would cause those seductive luxuries to lose the greater portion of their charm, if not to be absolutely abandoned. It appears far more likely that the objection usually entertained towards a disembodied individual is due to the unpleasant name associated with it, than that the designation suffers from the nature of the thing to which it belongs. The various synonyms of the word are not nearly so objectionable; under any one of them the non-corporeal appearance improves immensely. If a "spirit" dropped in, you would probably be surprised; if a "spectre looked round, you would be undoubtedly startled; a call from a "phantom" would inspire you with awe; but if a ghost were to appear, br.r.r.r.v.r ! There is, you see, a sort of vague unreality about

spirits, spectres, and phantoms. They cannot be imagined strong enough to rattle chains or give heavy foot-falls, or groan, or moan, or shriek; but your Ghost is a sturdy sort of being; he makes the stairs creak, he bangs doors, and his vocal abilities are tremendous. It is not difficult to believe that we might get used to such flimsy things as spirits or spectres, and if one were favoured with a perfect procession merely remark, "There seem a good many spectres about to-night; I suppose it's the weather;" but I defy any one to get used to a ghost, that is to say, to feel thoroughly at home with it.

That ingenious piece of sophistry, "What's in a name?" "that which we call a rose, etc.," is all very well from the lips of a young woman in a balcony, who wants to persuade herself that it is natural for her to love a particular young man in the street below; but depend upon it, names have an important influence upon people's lives (vide Tristram Shandy),-why not after their lives? Can any one conceive a more repulsive name than that applied to a gentleman or lady, from whom the material parts have been eliminated? I have always pitied the unsubstantial visitants for the inhospitable way in which they are received. Can anything be more unpleasant, more mortifying? One of them, perhaps a relative, comes to see you out of pure affection, or sometimes to convey important information. What is your behaviour? Why, you shriek, allow your hair to disarrange itself in a most unbecoming way, your eyes protrude in the rudest manner, and very likely you finish by fainting away. What can be more embarrassing? Now, you do not receive your live friend in this ridiculous manner. Why should you act with such inhuman absurdity just because he

happens to be dead? If anything, your conduct and tone should be more cordial, more tender, leaning to the pleasant and congratulatory, or the sad and sympathetic, according to the circumstances of your visitor. It should be invited to take a chair, or hang itself on a nail, pour itself into a tumbler, adhere to something, or do anything by which a perturbed spirit might find rest and ensure itself against being carried up the chimney by draughts. To offer mundane refreshments would perhaps be a superfluous piece of politeness, though as that "cold shade of the aristocracy," the Ghost of Hamlet père, mentioned that he could "scent the morning air," your spiritual friend might enjoy the bouquet of a good Burgundy or Bordeaux, though, probably, he could not consume the liquid. At all events, a conversation would ensue which could not fail to be interesting, might lead to the redress of some wrong, and without any unfair advantage being taken of familiar intercourse, be sure to afford valuable information for the settlement of the vexed question, the existence of Ghosts, besides other problems of universal interest.

Fortunately, however, it is not every one who treats a spirit that has left off its body like a mad dog; and of such a sensible person I know, whose experience is both recent and, I think, valuable. He had a commission to paint a young gentleman of position, and for that purpose visited an ancestral hall, where he was received with all due courtesy, and shown his bedroom at the proper time. When he awoke in the morning, he saw a lady walking up and down at the foot of his bed. Unaccustomed to attentions of this sort, and believing it was somebody who had gone astray and got into the wrong apartment, he gently expressed his opinion to that effect. The lady took no notice,

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but continued her exercise, accompanied by much wringing of hands, as if, like Lady Macbeth, she were trying to get something off. At last she disappeared, and gave the gentleman an opportunity of getting up and going down to breakfast, where he told his story. "Dear me," said the lord of the establishment, "I'm very sorry; it's our Ghost! I had forgotten that it is the time of her appearance; but you shall have another bedroom to-night." By no means," said the artist; "I don't mind it at all." And he slept in the same same room, having carefully prepared his palette, his brushes, and medium. The next morning, when the Apparition commenced its performance, he calmly went to work to paint its portrait, which he continued to do every morning till it was finished, and I, moi qui vous parle, have seen the picture. It is not pretty. It represents a middleaged woman in a dress of the last century, with an agonised expression of face, wringing of her hands. The subject was, it appears, an ancestress of the family, who committed the unladylike act of murdering the rightful heir to substitute her own son in the succession. The artist is a gentleman of perfect sanity, veracity, and skill, and the story is, I think, conclusive of the truth of spiritual manifestations, showing as it does the ruling passion of having your portrait taken strong, not only in death, but after death, and also because " one touch of (female) nature makes the whole world kin," supernatural as well as otherwise. A doubt certainly did cross my mind, because the spirit-lady had evidently not done up her hair, nor did she assume an agreeable smirk to be painted in; but upon reflection, I have come to the conclusion that the unprepossessing, not to say hideous, appearance she presents is obligatory, and entailed upon her

as a punishment; nor can I imagine one more terrible, or better calculated to deter the gentle sex from committing similar crimes. Consider, ladies, to be handed down to posterity a fright! It is almost too awful, but that fact seems to supply the key to the mystery. She was evidently doomed to appear till an artist arrived, and painted her as ugly as her sin.

The commission of crimes or the non-fulfilment of duties seems to be the most prolific cause for the return of the departed; but neither can be universal, for if everybody who had done wrong, or neglected to do right, were to crop up after death, there would be no room for the live sinners. The Legislature would have to step in with an act for the better regulation of Ghosts, or Mr. Edison to discover a means of utilising them in electricity, to which their volatile and luminous properties seem to show an affinity.

Another reason for a spirit obtaining a ticket-of-leave appears to be the necessity for haunting those who have injured them. Persons who have found it necessary to remove others from this world of trouble, are supposed to be punished by the companionship of those they have set free. This belief certainly rests, in the majority of cases, on the doubtful evidence of poets, but it is worth investigation, for if true, it supplies a most powerful argument against murder which becomes manifestly absurd if, while running the risk and undertaking the trouble of getting rid of an objectionable acquaintance, it ensures a renewal of more intimate relations at the most unseasonable hours. It would be far better to leave a person that you did not like alive, when you might manage to avoid him, than to convert him into a thing to which not even the privacy of the