I do not know whether you ever heard of a Mr. Pallas, who lives at
Grouse Hall. He lately received information that a certain Defender was
to be found in a lone house, which was described to him; he took a party
of men with him in the night, and got to the house very early in the
morning: it was scarcely light. The soldiers searched the house, but no
man was to be found. Mr. Pallas ordered them to search again, for that
he was certain the man was there: they searched again, in vain. They
gave up the point, and were preparing to mount their horses when one man
who had stayed a little behind his companions, saw something moving at
the end of the garden behind the house: he looked again, and beheld a
man's arm come out of the ground. He ran towards the spot and called his
companions, but the arm had disappeared; they searched, but nothing was
to be seen, and though the soldier persisted in his story he was not
believed. "Come," said one of the party, "don't waste your time here
looking for an apparition among these cabbage-stalks, come back once
more to the house." They went to the house, and there stood the man they
were in search of, in the middle of the kitchen.

Upon examination, it was found that a secret passage had been practised
from the kitchen to the garden, opening under an old meal chest with a
false bottom, which he could push up and down at pleasure. He had
returned one moment too soon.

I beg, dear Sophy, that you will not call my little stories by the
sublime title of "my works," I shall else be ashamed when the little
mouse comes forth. The stories are printed and bound the same size as
_Evenings at Home_, but I am afraid you will dislike the title; my
father had sent _The Parent's Friend_, [Footnote: Mr. Edgeworth had
wished the book to bear this title.] but Mr. Johnson has degraded it
into _The Parent's Assistant_, which I dislike particularly, from