and amuse him and make him ever so jolly and comfortable--But why,
when the bleak November wind sobs against the lattice and disturbs the
dead ashes in the grate, when everything is damned queer and dark,
and that sort of thing, you know--why should you make nervous fellows'
flesh creep by talk about mesmerism, and dead fellows coming to see
live fellows before dying, and the Lord knows what else? Why, Gad!
it's horrid!"

[Illustration: THE MIDNIGHT PRESENCE OF THE UNCANNY.]

My rooms in Antwerp were the scene of many a festive gathering. We
always spoke of them in the plural; it sounded better, but in reality
there was only one room with two small alcoves. Studies and sketches
covered the walls or littered the floor, and the genial figure of a
skeleton, in very perfect condition, stood in the corner by the piano.
At first it came with a view to instructing me in the Science of
Anatomy, but soon, putting aside any didactic pretensions, my bony
professor became quite a companion and friend; it was thus natural
that on those occasions when guests had been convened to my rooms,
he would take a leading part, generally appearing gracefully draped
and appropriately illuminated, and thus forming a fitting background
to the gay proceedings of the evening. We had music, recitation,
and acting, mostly of an improvised, homemade character. The sounds
thereof were not confined, however, to the narrow limits of home, but
spread far beyond it, a fact which the neighbours, I am sure, would
have been at any time ready most emphatically to attest.

In justice to myself I may say that I was primarily answerable for the
magnitude of the sound waves, but I am bound to add that my example
was followed and even improved upon by the more lung-gifted of