g
recovery he has ever known.'

* * * * *

"That is twenty years ago, and I've not seen the phantom rider since.
Nor do I fancy he will appear again, for when I look into the eyes of
the picture in the hall, they are no longer wandering, but at rest."

* * * * *

Perhaps, one of the most interesting accounts of the phantasm of a horse
in my possession is that recorded by C.E. G----, a friend of my boyhood.
Writing to me from the United States some months ago, he says:

"Knowing how interested you are in all cases of hauntings, and in those
relating to animal ghosts especially, I am sending you an account of an
'experience' that happened to my uncle, Mr. John Dale, about six months
ago. He was returning to his home in Bishopstone, near Helena, Montana,
shortly after dark, and had arrived at a particularly lonely part of the
road where the trees almost meet overhead, when his horse showed signs
of restlessness. It slackened down, halted, shivered, whinnied, and kept
up such a series of antics, that my uncle descended from the trap to see
if anything was wrong with it. He thought that, perhaps, it was going to
have some kind of fit, or an attack of ague, which is not an uncommon
complaint among animals in his part of the country, and he was preparing
to give it a dose of quinine, when suddenly it reared up violently, and
before he could stop it, was careering along the road at lightning
speed. My uncle was now in a pretty mess. He was stranded in a forest
without a lantern, ten miles, at least, from home. Feeling too depressed
to do anything, he sat down by the roadside, and seriously thought of
remaining there till daybreak. A twinge of rheumatism, however, reminded
him the ground was little warmer than ice, and made him realize that
lying on it would be courting death. Consequently, he got up, and
setting his lips grimly, struck out in the direction of Bishopstone. At
every step he took the track grew darker. Shadows of trees and
countless other things, for which he could see no counterpart, crept out
and rendered it almost impossible for him to tell where to tread. A
peculiar, indefinable dread also began to make itself felt, and the
darkness seemed to him to assume an entirely new character. He plodded
on, breaking into a jog-trot every now and then, and whistling by way of
companionship. The stillness was sepulchral--he strained his ears, but
could not