DO NOT SAY, that I am a believer in ghosts, I am a great believer in ghost stories; at I know, long years ago, when we were all ered around the blazing fire on some wild windy winter's night, when the merriment he evening was over, it was my delight to the candle out, put some salt on the fire, then propose that some one should tell a and that it should be about ghosts. And y a time did we youngsters go to bed to im of haunted houses and mysterious ads and sheeted spirits; but never did I k, that in days to come, a veritable ghost ld seek my acquaintance, or even deem me thy a visit.

Many a year had passed since those merry -telling times, and many a change had been g on the bells of time, I had left those opy home scenes, and had been sent to gle in the inevitable monotony of business. as a clerk in the office of that respectable n, Brown and Robinson, solicitors, Barton. ton was a queer little place and seemed de up of corners. No two houses were ke, but looked as if they had all dropped omiscuously from the clouds, on a stormy ght, and had never moved since. It was a ty little town, too, and of some notoriety, uate in one of the midland counties.

It was an evening in the Christmas week, d the snow which had fallen during the day as submitting itself to the caprice of the inter's wind. Huge drifts were fast covering e footpaths, and forming themselves into yramids over stray stones, and pointing the rickwork of the houses; altogether making arton look in the moonlight more angular

than ever. The streets were almost deserted, except here and there where a group of merry boys were making huge snow men, to snowball.

Harry Stuart and I were out of doors and wearily pacing the snowy streets. Harry was a great friend of mine. He was certainly some years my senior, but that fact never seemed to hinder our constant companionship. He was an artist, just passing through the outer courts of the Temple of Fame, and working like a galley slave, was patiently waiting for an entrance. He was a tall, handsome man, with rather remarkable features-finely formed mouth and chin, large brown eyes which seemed in love with all nature, and as though they would never cease wondering; a high forehead and dark wavy hair. He was, wherewithal, clever, that is, he was one of those gifted beings who could adapt themselves to almost any circumstances. He could talk anatomically to the doctor; could split metaphysical hairs with the parson, or could lay down the law to either Messrs. Brown or Robinson. He would become vastly interested in the most acute problem of rheumatics, propounded and solved for the fiftieth time by some garrulous old lady; could make poetry, and languish with sentimental young ladies, or tell tales by the yard to laughing youngsters at the fireside. Indeed, he was a great favourite with ladies, but then, you know, he was, an artist, and ladies have a weakness for artists. However, Harry could never be tempted into marrying. He wanted to see the domestic economy of the Temple of Fame first, and then, perhaps, he might think of instituting a like economy for himself. But though that arrant

little coquette, Fortune, who keeps the gates, has often flirted with him, she has never given a fair entrance, and so he labours on, a merry bachelor.

Now, Harry and I lodged in the same suite of rooms in High Street; but, one night, we determined to break our bondage to that necessary evil, our landlady, and to take a house of our own. And on the said evening we had been hunting all over Barton for a suitable house. We were, however, so far disappointed, and, dull and silent at thus being forced to give up our pet scheme, we were hastening back home. Passing down a narrow street on the outskirts of the town, I noticed a large, gloomylooking house on the opposite side of the way, in which several broken windows betokened a state of "To Let." We immediately crossed over, and, to our delight, saw the place was unoccupied. It was certainly rather a large house and in a wretched neighbourhood; but even that before failure and lodgings. And so, early the next morning, Harry set off to make arrangements with the agent, while I wended my way to the sanctum of Messrs. Brown and Robinson. Arriving there, I immediately commenced the day's business according to the wont of junior clerks, by an endeavour to make myself generally useless and to appear particularly useful. Half an hour had thus passed and I was in the midst of a deep laid scheme to prop up "Midshipman Easy" conveniently behind my draft sheet to secure a day's amusement, when a loud rap came at the door, and without waiting for an answer, in came Harry Stuart.

"Now, then, my dear fellow, shout," he exclaimed excitedly and almost out of breath, "I've got the house and it's a splendid affair. You must come and see it at once."

It was well we were alone, for neither Messrs. Brown or Robinson had yet put in an appearance, or Harry's noisy glee might have disturbed the legal acumen of the said respectable gentlemen.

"Well, Harry," said I, "you're decidedly a brick, and we'll have fine times now, but you know I can't possibly come just now, such an awful amount of work to do this morning."

Bnt he would hear no refusal. The house was taken and I must see it. So I even left "Midshipman Easy" and Smith v. Jones, and in ten minutes we were inside the house. It was rather a curious place and in excellent condition inside. Many rooms bore traces of former splendour and still appeared capable of being made very comfortable. But, Harry," said I, the thought suddenly striking me, "What of the rent?" At this question, my friend's face lit up, and he was about to speak when a cloud passed over his features and he was silent.

"What's the matter?"

"Why, you see," he said, "about the rent, this house ought to be £50 at least, but I've got it for £10."

I stared at Harry, and had it not for a merry twinkle in his eye, should thought that either he or the agent had leave of his senses. Suddenly, howeve came close to me and, with a serious g said, "The fact is, there's a secret abou place," and drawing still closer to me. whispered, "It is Haunted!" I did not

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For a moment I was silent. lieve in ghosts then, you know; but, co it was that morning, I certainly felt a s etherised streak of winter pass right dow back and expend itself finally in my boots! shuddered. Haunted, eh?" and then both burst into a fit of merry laughter. ghost. Well, that's good. But, I who told you; and what sort of a ghost is Sitting down on an old chair, and light cigar, Harry informed me that the estater thrown into Chancery, and as that glor Court can swallow and digest any amour estates, it was not likely that it would have the luck of being thrown out of Cl

cery.

say,

"You remember Old Carey," said be," miser, who used to crawl up and down place, a very incarnation of misery? Well. lived here. One hobby he had, and that to keep a splendid house; although why cannot tell, for few, if any, were ever admitt It was reported that he had heaps of mon which he hid in the cellar underneath. Ho ever, when he died no one could find it, ever since, his ghost regularly visits the pl at night, makes a terrible row and then camps. It's a fact, I can assure you, several persons sceptical on the point slept here and borne an indubitable testimon After all, you know, it's good fun; so wi get a couple of rooms furnished for ourselv and give old Carey the freedom of the re He can't complain.'

Thus the house was taken, and we enter the place a week after. It was no surprise us that all Barton should speculate as to views in taking "that house of old Carey's Hints about bags of gold were darkly made t some, and others calmly stroked their chins guessed we shouldn't stay there long. sequel will show.

We had engaged a housekeeper; a good dame, but one who had her own opinion ab ghosts, and therefore insisted on going ho to sleep, every night. She would come early, and leave as late as we pleased,

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sleep there! No, that she wouldn't. S would rather sleep in Barton old churchyar And that was no sinecure. Of course allowed her to please herself, especially as saved us fitting up another room, and we ca

to terms.

Ah! but it was bitterly cold in the eveni of that New Year's Day when we took posse sion of our house. The wind howled a shrieked through the dilapidated windows the upper rooms, and every now and then son

would bang to, making the whole place e again. But neither Harry nor I intended e frightened that night, and so we heaped e coals on the blazing fire in that huge old ke, and, engaged in a merry conversation on sts, concluding that doubtless the only ghost haunted that house was the wind; and the evening passed cozily on, until the k struck eleven, and then we prepared for

ire long, we were snug and comfortable ween the sheets and I was busily thinking r the events of the day and scheming for the re.. I was not very sleepy, and occasionally eyes would wander furtively around the

m.

It was a large room and the bright am of moonlight which shot in through the dows seemed to hold the darkness in abeye and partially to reveal the furniture and ls. But it was a dim, doubtful light. thing in the room was distinct, and I could Jost fancy I saw ghostly figures shrink into dark corners to wait until the moon had ned. But the moon shone on; and the d kept up a ceaseless, mournful sound, ich now would be gentle as a maiden's sigh, d again would rise into a long pathetic wail. while it would tell a tale of sadness, and then riek forth its anathemas against a world of ì. It was a strange wind.

BANG! CRASH! Down stairs.

from the dark store-rooms at the very top, to the damp and dingy cellars that, curiously enough, seemed the very place for a ghost.

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But a letter came that morning for Harry, calling him out of town, to sketch on a beautiful estate some eight miles away. Of course, he would be away a night, and what should I do? "Perhaps," said he, anxiously, you had better sleep out with a friend to-night." "But what will all Barton say? Depend upon it, Harry, our defeat and discomfiture is confidently expected. I intend to brave it out in the face of all. No, I'll not leave. It won't much matter, you know, if only the ghost does not appear; and I think I shall sleep to-night." Harry did not like it, but, nervously bid me take care of myself, and reluctantly left.

Oh, that fearful night! though I should live a century, never shall I forget it. The housekeeper had left, I had barred the doors, and retired, as I hoped-to rest. The moon was overcast now, and there was an impenetrable darkness throughout the room, and the last footfalls had died away in the street. I was alone, and in an old, HAUNTED house. And that darkness, it was horrible. It was worse as I grew used to it. My imagination conjured a thousand forms around me, and I could not shut them out. I closed my eyes, but could not sleep. An hour passed, a long, heavy hour, and the old clock in the church tower

w.

It was an anxious moment, for I almost exected to see the spirit of the old miser rise out the darkness; but there was a dead calm; e wind seemed almost hushed, and that little y of moonlight looked stiller than ever. Harry sprang out of bed, and, lighting the andle, proposed a journey of inspection. I greed, and, putting on a few clothes, we cauously descended the old staircase. If it was uiet above, there was a deathly quietude beWe went through every room, and hunted n all kinds of impossible places, but in vain! Not the slightest physical effect followed the wful noise we had heard; not the stirring of a particle of dust. The doors and windows vere all fast, and, mystified and wondering, we eturned to our chamber. Hours passed by, ont we could not sleep. Once again we heard the strange noise, though not so loudly as beFore; but we saw no ghost. The moon set, the earth grew dark as the morning approached, and then daylight relieved us from a restless and weary night.

Harry looked ill and melancholy. For awhile he would sit staring intently into the fire, and then start up and propose some fresh or renewed search. We looked into every nook and corner of the old house, even

"That hour o' nights black arch, the keystane." I shuddered.

BANG, CRASH, BANG! Somewhere, I could not tell; it rang all over the house, and seemed to paralyse me; but hark! there is a fearful sonnd as of some one struggling; again, and a chain clanks and rattles faintly, as though in some dungeon far below, but no voice save that of the restless wind, playing ever the same accompaniment. Alone, and my weary brain begins to reel and wander. Out of the darkness rising were a thousand forms, and eyes that I had thought closed for ever, gazed reproachfully on me, and long, weird arms were stretched out, and skinny hands pointed at me, I could not turn away my eyes. Oh, misery!

Crash, bang, and a clanking of chains! I start, and the ghostly band vanish; and now there comes a long, long wail, and again I am surrounded, and yet alone, for not one will speak, but gaze on, and they still keep moving and pointing, marching and counter-marching around my bed in ghastly apparition. I begin to mutter and moan, as, restlessly my brain whirls and totters in agony; I am in the spirit world, and now myself a ghost amid that phantom group, and with them I am wandering in unknown lands, far away, over sandy plains and through burning winds, flying and careering in mid air, yet sick and giddy; and then would come that fearful noise below, and, upstarting, I would try to shout, to cry, to scream, but no, it was impossible. Again those gaunt forms,

were unsatisfactorily answered, and, of course, Harry and I came in for our share of slander. For curiosity must either be satisfied, or invent, and lying tongues must speak.

There was a brewery in Barton, near to our house; the place had never been intended for a brewery when built, for it was simply a heterogenous mass of buildings which Messrs. Halliday and Stout had added, one by one, as they progressed in means. Often had they endeavoured to buy our house from old Carey, but had failed. It was about a month since we entered the haunted house, and, one morning, I was carelessly standing against the wall of the little snuggery in which we lived. Harry was getting his breakfast, and we were chatting together, when, suddenly, there came a crash like a thunderbolt just in the wall hehind me. The leap I took would have done credit to Deerfoot. Harry, nearly upsetting the table, jumped on to his feet, and shouted, "The Ghost."

There was nothing to be seen, but much to be suspected. It was the first time that his lordship had been heard in the daytime.

Two hours after, and I had framed an excuse to visit the brewery on business. This I quickly transacted, and then turned my attention to the building which seemed nearest to

"What!" I exclaimed, as I took a near look at the horse, "is that Old Jolly; and dying too?"

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Aye," said the man, "We've bin wi' hi all mornin'. He's hed a fit, and he'll no get o'er it, either. Poor old chap." And nian was evidently affected, for Jolly was well-known horse, and he was his driver. Barton knew Jolly. He was the most viciou and yet the most powerful horse in the to None dare touch him, but Joe Ainsworth, a he had a perfect power over him, and cors quently he was left entirely to Joe's manag ment by his masters.

But I found something out from Joe. T stall was just the next apartment to ou

gery, and as there was but a single brick between, a stout oak panelling had been up, about six inches from the wall, in order eep the stable warm, and yet allow a good t behind the panelling, which escaped ugh a grating at the top, and thus ilated the whole place. Jolly was worked y and late, and was only put here at nights, being of a vicious temperament, would n, in his sleep, strike out his hind legs, ch, coming in contact with the panelling, sed the sound to ring through every part of large house next door. Jolly was fastened, with a rope, but a chain, which, passing ough a ring bolt in the stall, had a weight ched, as is usual in stables, so as to allow a

free action of the head, which freedom this horse was fond of using, especially when he would start up in his sleep from some vicious dream. Thus, then, the faint rattling of chains.

I hastened in to Harry, and the next half hour he was as wise as myself. What more need I say-Jolly was dead, and the ghost never more tormented us.

There was a friendly party at our house that night. Harry was in his happiest mood, and the old place rang with the sound of merriment. Tales were told, songs were sung, and games were played, but none there, but Harry and I, knew why the "Haunted House" had been thus opened to company.

LIFE IS UNIVERSAL. Its meaning and wer is written by the soul on every man. All e yearnings after happiness and purity are t indications of life. True life is happiness; d it shall rise and spread with succeeding ars; true happiness is unattainable in this orld, but the life and happiness which we ow have is the bud of an eternal blossom. Doubting the true and holy is weary work; r whilst we live, we can never kill that part of that is within ourselves. Pyrrhus "doubted erything. His life was but the decree of fate. hat matter if he was slain by the rushing chariots the streets? the end of his existence could ly come at the right time." And the watchg care of his friends, who saved him from such death was woven into the same principle, uch teachings could only make men move rough life with bowed heads, and clasped rms, and, eventually, blot out the existence of heir life: linking the soul with eternity and eath. And yet the Pyrrhonians and sceptics rospered very largely; their chief opponent was Potoman, of Alexandria, in the reign of iberius, who strove to find truth in everyhing, calling himself “Philalethes," i. e. "The Lover of Truth." This man was the first who eceived the name of Eclectic. His principles pposed faith to doubting; a belief in the truth and reality of this life to sceptical and stoical ndifference.

"The truth is a commonwealth." All alike are heirs to it; all alike may possess it. The heirship, though, must be won ere we may possess its fulness, and the lands reclaimed from the sea of sin, which long ago engulphed them; and though the waters of sin may yet be deep in parts, though it may seem an irreclaimable bog, yet there is truth beneath; truth hid in all error: good in all bad. The cry of "Work! and Labour!" rings

in the human heart. "Strive to drive back sin! But where the truth is open and free, place no barriers, and shatter the time-rotten ones which are already up." Such is the true cry of Eclectism.

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Eclective philosophy has been used for wrong purposes, as in the second century of the Christian Church, when it was attempted to overthrow Christianity, by connecting it with Heathenism. The principle is not universally applicable in its primitive propositions: choosing what you will," has run men into great excesses. It is only Philalethes who can rightly carry it out. In choosing the true, and the beautiful, and the good, be as Eclectic as you can. Let no sectarian spirit stay you, but free your path from the curse of bigotry. There must be something in all: from high-decked Popery to simple Quakerism. Both from the high-sounding Masses, with the candles, and crosses, and incense, and all the pageantry-each portion of which is the emblem of some phase in that wondrous inner life of man-and from the simple Friends, who have not even one sacrament, but whose quiet, peaceful lives picture glorious truths.

This does not lead either into speculative or practical latitudinarianism. In observances it is better to differ. But that does not touch Eclecticism. Different observances and rites suit different minds. But any truth brought forward by the different system, we can freely accept. We may believe in all that is good and sound, wherever or however it may be shown. For believe this-Free-hearted faith and Eclecticism are united.

The Eclective philosophy of science numbers among its promoters, Bacon, DesCartes, Malebranche, Locke, Grotius, Selden, Puffendorf, Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo, Boyle, and Newton. But the Eclecticism of religion is not