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BLACK AND WHITE; OR, THE PHANTOM STEED!

(_A TYPICAL GHOST STORY FOR CHRISTMAS, BY A WITNESS OF THE TRUTH._)

[Illustration]

I was walking in one of the slums in the neighbourhood of Oxford
Street, some years ago, and always fond of horse-flesh (I had
driven--as a boy--a bathing-machine for my pleasure along the wild
coast line of the great Congo Continent) was greatly attracted by
a hack standing within the shafts of a cart belonging to a funeral
furnisher. Like many of its class, the horse was jet black, with a
long flowing tail and a mane to match. As I gazed upon the creature
the driver came out of the shop (to which doleful establishment the
equipage belonged) and drove slowly away. I felt forced to follow, and
soon found myself outside a knacker's yard. Guessing the intention of
the driver to treat his steed as only fit for canine food, I offered
to purchase the seemingly doomed animal. To my surprise, the man
expressed his willingness to treat with me, and suggested that I might
have the carcase at the rate of 4s. 11¾d. a pound. Considering the
price not excessive, I agreed, and, having weighed the horse at an
automatic weighing machine, I handed over £100--in notes. Then the
first strange thing happened. Before I could replace my pocket-book in
its receptacle in my coat, the driver had absolutely vanished! I could
not see him anywhere. I was the more annoyed at this, as I found that
(by mistake) I had given him notes on the Bank of Elegance, which
everyone knows are of less value than notes on the Bank of England.
However, it was too late to search for the vendor, and I walked