of Mack's refusal to sleep in the
kennel, at once said, 'I know what's the matter. It's the smell. Mack
scents the poison which was used to destroy Zack. Have the kennel
thoroughly fumigated, and you'll have no more trouble.' At my wife's
request she went into the yard to have a look at it, and the moment she
bent down, she cried out like you did, 'Why, there's a dog inside--a
terrier!' My wife and I both looked and could see nothing. The lady,
however, persisted, and, on my handing her a stick, struck at the figure
she saw. To her amazement the stick went right through it. Then, and not
till then, did we tell her of your experience. 'Well!' she exclaimed,
'I have never believed in ghosts, but I do so now. I am quite certain
that what I see is the phantom of Zack! How glad I am, because I am at
last assured animals have spirits and can come back to us.'"

In concluding the accounts of phantasms of dead dogs, let me quote two
cases taken from my work entitled _The Haunted Houses of London_,
published by Mr. Eveleigh Nash, of Fawside House, King Street, Covent
Garden, London, W.C., in 1909. The cases are these:--

_The Phantom Dachshund of W---- St., London, W._

In letter No. 1 my correspondent writes:--

"Though I am by no means over-indulgent to dogs, the latter generally
greet me very effusively, and it would seem that there is something in
my individuality that is peculiarly attractive to them. This being so, I
was not greatly surprised one day, when in the immediate neighbourhood
of X---- Street, to find myself persistently followed by a rough-haired
dachshund wearing a gaudy yellow collar. I tried to scare it away by
shaking my sunshade at it, but all to no purpose--it came resolutely on;
and I was beginning to despair of getting rid of it, when I came to
X---- Street, where my husband once practised as an oculist. There it
suddenly altered its tactics, and instead of keeping at my heels,
became my conductor, forging slowly ahead with a gliding motion that
both puzzled and fascinated me. I furthermore observed that
notwithstanding the temperature--it was not a whit less than ninety
degrees in the shade--the legs and stomach of the dachshund were covered
with mud and dripping with water. When it came to No. 90 it halted, and
veering swiftly round, eyed me in the strangest manner, just as if it
had some secret it was bursting to disclose. It remained in this
attitude until I was within two or three feet of it--