his hand upon the other's arm. At his touch the body of the
Haunted Man seemed to become as thin and incorporeal as that of the
Goblin himself, and together they glided out of the window into the
black and blowy night.

In the rapidity of their flight the senses of the Haunted Man seemed to
leave him. At length they stopped suddenly.

"What do you see?" asked the Goblin.

"I see a battlemented mediaeval castle. Gallant men in mail ride over
the drawbridge, and kiss their gauntleted fingers to fair ladies, who
wave their lily hands in return. I see fight and fray and tournament.
I hear roaring heralds bawling the charms of delicate women, and
shamelessly proclaiming their lovers. Stay. I see a Jewess about to
leap from a battlement. I see knightly deeds, violence, rapine, and a
good deal of blood. I've seen pretty much the same at Astley's."

"Look again."

"I see purple moors, glens, masculine women, bare-legged men, priggish
book-worms, more violence, physical excellence, and blood. Always
blood,--and the superiority of physical attainments."

"And how do you feel now?" said the Goblin.

The Haunted Man shrugged his shoulders. "None the better for being
carried back and asked to sympathize with a barbarous age."

The Goblin smiled and clutched his arm; they again sped rapidly through
the black night and again halted.

"What do you see?" said the Goblin.

"I see a barrack room, with a mess table, and a group of intoxicated
Celtic officers telling funny stories, and giving challenges to duel.
I see a young Irish gentleman capable of performing prodigies of valor.
I learn incidentally that the acme of all heroism is the cornetcy of a
dragoon regiment. I hear a good deal of French! No, thank you," said
the Haunted Man hurriedly, as he stayed the waving hand of the Goblin;
"I would rather NOT go to the Peninsula, and don't care to have a
private interview with Napoleon."

Again the Goblin flew away with the unfortunate man, and from a strange
roaring below them he judged they were above the ocean. A ship hove in
sight, and the Goblin stayed its flight. "Look," he said, squeezing
his companion's arm.

The Haunted Man yawned. "Don't you think, Charles, you're rather
running this thing into the ground? Of course it's very moral and
instructive, and all that. But ain't there a little too much pantomime
about it? Come now!"

"Look!" repeated the Goblin, pinching his arm malevolently. The
Haunte