t was his imagination that had invested some natural object
with a ghostly shape. But the nearer he approached, the more
ghostlike and mysterious did the figure appear.

He stopped, hesitating what to do, and then concluded to ride
slowly. There was no other way to his home than the one he was
following. He knew well enough that his mind was somewhat unsettled
by drinking, and what he saw might, after all, he thought, be
nothing but an illusion. He would approach the object slowly and
cautiously, and, when very near it, would put spurs to his horse and
dash by.

As he drew near, however, the figure showed unmistakable signs of
life, gesticulating mysteriously, and uttering gibberish, that,
although odd, sounded surprisingly human.

It was a ghostly night: the dim moonlight filled the silent air, and
the landscape was flecked with shadows; it was a ghostly
place,--Teviotdale churchyard; and, in perfect keeping with the time
and place, stood the figure, doing as a ghost is supposed to
do,--talking gibberish to the moon.

The young man's nerves were quite unstrung as he put spurs to his
horse for a rush by the object of his fright. As he dashed past, his
hair almost bristling with apprehension, the supposed phantom leaped
upon the back of the horse and clasped the frightened man about his
waist. His apprehensions were startling enough before, but now he
was wrought to the highest pitch of terror.

He drove his spurs into his horse, and the animal flew over the
earth like a phantom steed. Such riding never before was seen in the
winding road of Teviotdale.

In a wonderfully short time the reeking animal stood trembling and
panting before his master's gate. The young man called lustily for
his servants, who, coming out, were commanded in frantic tones to
"Tak aff the ghaist, tak aff the ghaist!" And "tak aff the ghaist"
they did, which proved to be a young lady well known in Teviotdale
for her unfortunate history.

She had married an estimable young man, to whom she was very
strongly attached, and the brightest worldly prospects seemed
opening before her. Her husband was taken ill, and suddenly died.
She had confided in him so fondly that the world lost its
attractions for her on his decease, and she moodily dwelt upon her
misfortune until she became deranged.

Her husband was buried in Teviotdale churchyard, and she was in the
habit o