This is certainly a strange story, but is it not still more strange that this ghost did not go to her husband and tell him the important secret herself, instead of trusting a stranger to do so? It will be observed that there are different classes of ghosts, as there are of living people—the princely, the aristocratic, the genteel, and the common. The vulgar classes delight to haunt in graveyards, dreary lanes, ruins, and all sorts of dirty dark holes and corners, and in cellars. Yes, dark cellars seem to be a favourite abode of these common ghosts. This fact raises the question whether the lower class of spirits are obliged to keep to the lower parts of the house—to the "lower regions"—and are not allowed to go into the parlours or the drawing-rooms, and not allowed to mix with the higher order of ghosts! Can this be a law or regulation amongst the ghosts? If so, is it not most extraordinary that these spirits should not be allowed to choose their own place of residence, and take to the most comfortable apartments, instead of grovelling amongst the rats and mice, the slugs, the crickets, and the blackbeetles? 'Tis strange, 'tis passing strange; but so it appears to be. By the by, some few of these poor spirits of the humble class of ghosts do sometimes, it appears, mount up to the bed-rooms, in the hope, I suppose, of getting occasionally now and then a "comfortable lodging" and a "good night's rest."

At page 310 of this same work we have an account of a haunted cellar in a gentleman's house, out of town, in which were heard "loud knockings," "a voice crying," "heavy feet walking," etc. The old butler, with his "acolytes," descended to the cellar (wine cellar) armed with sword, blunderbuss, and other offensive weapons, but the ghosts put them all to flight, and they "turned tail" in a fright. Yes, they all ran up-stairs again, followed by the "sound of feet" and "a visible shadow!" This, of course, is a fact; and it so happens that I know another fact about a haunted wine-cellar, which, however, had quite a different result to the foregoing.

In a wine-cellar of a gentleman's house, somewhere near Blackheath, it was found that strange noises were sometimes heard in the evenings and in the night time, in this "wine vault," similar to those described above, such as knocking, groaning, footsteps, etc., so that the servants were afraid to go into the cellar, particularly at a late hour. The master at length determined to "lay" this ghost, if possible, and one evening when these noises had been heard, arming himself with a sword, and the servants with a fowling-piece and a poker, they cautiously descended into the cellar (with lighted candles, of course). Nothing was to be seen there, and all was quiet except a strange, smothered kind of sound, like the hard breathing of an animal, something like snoring, that seemed to proceed out of the earth in one of the dark corners of the vault, when, lo and behold! in turning their lights in the direction from which the sounds came, and advancing carefully, they discovered—what do you think? Don't be alarmed. Why, the ghost lying on the ground, dead—drunk! Yes, the ghost had laid himself, not with "Bell, Book, and Candle," but by swallowing the spirit of alcohol, the spirit of wine, beer, and brandy. Most disgraceful; in fact, this ghost had taken a "drop too much."

Upon looking a little closer, they found that this ghost was one Tom Brown, an under-gardener; and it was discovered that he had tunnelled a hole from the "tool-house" through the wall into the cellar. This spirit was so over-charged with spirit, that he was unable to walk, so was doomed to be carried in a cart to the "cage;" and all the people living round about came next morning to look at the ghost that had been haunting the squire's wine cellar. Oh! what a fortune it would be to any one who could catch a ghost—a real, right down, "'arnest" ghost, and put him in a cage to show him round the country! I wish I had one.[3] It would cost little or nothing to keep such a thing; only the lodging, as he would require neither food, fire, clothing, nor washing!

At page 118, we find an account of an apparition appearing to a gentleman, who was staying at a friend's house at Sarratt, in Hertfordshire, and was awoke in the middle of the night by a pressure on his feet, and, looking up, saw, by the light that was burning in the fire-place, a "well-dressed gentleman," in a "blue coat and bright gilt buttons," leaning on the foot of the bed, without a head! It appears that this was reported to be the ghost of a poor gentleman of that neighbourhood who had been murdered, and whose head had been cut off! and could therefore only be recognized by his "blue coat and bright gilt buttons."

Under any real circumstance this would indeed be too horrible and too serious a subject to turn into ridicule; but in this case, such an evident falsehood, it is surely allowable to "lay" such a ghost as this, such a senseless ghost, in any possible way; in fact, to laugh such a ghost out of countenance—

Any one looking at this figure will clearly see that he does not belong to this world, and has therefore no business here; for, although there may be some persons in this world who, perhaps, go about with a very small allowance of brain, yet every body here must have some sort of a head upon his shoulders, no matter how handsome, or queer-looking it may be. Now I am sorry to be rude to any "well-dressed gentleman," or, indeed, to any body or soul; but as it appears (from the story) that this ghost had really no real business upon earth, what "on earth" does he come here for? Why, for no other object, it appears, but to "show himself off;" so, in my opinion, the sooner he "walks off" the better. By the by, perhaps we ought not to be too severe upon the poor fellow, for, upon consideration, he is placed in rather an awkward position, as his head may be on the look out for the body, and know where it is, but having no legs it cannot get to the body. On the other hand, although the body has legs and could walk to the head, yet, having no eyes, cannot see where the head is; so some excuse may be made upon this head, particularly if he is not a talking ghost.

There is a story, somewhere in the Roman Catholic chronicles, of a martyr, who, after being beheaded, picked up his head, and walked away with it under his arm; but our ghost here, in the "blue coat and bright gilt buttons," is not allowed to do this sort of thing, and the question naturally arises, what has become of, or where is the spirit of this unfortunate gentleman's head? Can the believers in ghosts tell us that? and surely we shall all feel obliged if they can inform us whether the apparitions of all decapitated persons appear without their heads; and, if not, what becomes of their heads? and, further, whether the mutilation of the body can in any way affect the spirit—the