passed quietly away. Evening came, and the author had a good night's
rest in the haunted house of which he had heard so much. The next day
being Sunday, everything was peaceful in the cottage, though why the
ghosts should respect the Sabbath the author has never been able to
ascertain; however they always remain quiet on that day. On Monday
morning the ghosts commenced their mad pranks again, and seemed ready
for anything. At breakfast, the lid of the stone-china sugar bowl
disappeared from the table, and, in about ten minutes, fell from the
ceiling. After breakfast; over went the table; then the chairs all fell
over, and several large mats were pitched about the room. The author
immediately left the room and went into the parlor, when, to his
astonishment, a flower pot containing a large plant in full bloom was
taken from its place in the bay window and set down in the middle of the
room and a large tin can filled with water was brought from the kitchen
and placed beside it. During the afternoon a large inkstand and two
empty bottles were thrown at him. The ghosts also undressed little
George, and, as if to make a final climax to the day's performance, Bob,
the head ghost, started a small bon-fire up stairs, and he and the other
ghosts piled all the chairs in the parlor one on top of the other, until
they made a pile about six feet in height, when, as if in sport, they
pulled out those underneath, letting all the others fall to the floor
with a crash.

On Tuesday morning when the author took his seat at the breakfast table,
he placed the sugar bowl lid beside his plate, so that he might have his
eyes on it. In a second it disappeared and fell, in exactly eight
minutes by the clock, from the ceiling, a distance of fully twenty feet
from the table. The ghosts got under the table, as on the previous
morning, and were so obliging as to produce any sounds called for, such
as an exact imitation of the sawing of wood, of drumming and of washing