y of three. These two facts are all that we are able to
learn of the locality from sources outside of the letter already
referred to.

The letter, omitting certain passages which refer solely to private
matters, reads as follows:

"But enough of the disagreeable business that brought me here to this
bleak island in the month of November. I have a singular story to tell
you. After our experience together at Chittenden I know you will not
reject statements because they are startling.

"My friend, there is upon Pocock Island a materialized spirit which (or
who) refuses to be dematerialized. At this moment and within a quarter
of a mile from me as I write, a man who died and was buried four years
ago, and who has exploited the mysteries beyond the grave, walks, talks,
and holds interviews with the inhabitants of the island, and is, to all
appearances, determined to remain permanently upon this side of the
river. I will relate the circumstances as briefly as I can."

JOHN NEWBEGIN

"In April, 1870, John Newbegin died and was buried in the little
cemetery on the landward side of the island. Newbegin was a man of
about forty-eight, without family or near connections, and eccentric to
a degree that sometimes inspired questions as to his sanity. What money
he had earned by many seasons' fishing upon the banks was invested in
quarters of two small mackerel schooners, the remainder of which
belonged to John Hodgeson, the richest man on Pocock, who was estimated
by good authorities to be worth thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars.

"Newbegin was not without a certain kind of culture. He had read a good
deal of the odds and ends of literature and, as a simple-minded islander
expressed it in my hearing, knew more bookfuls than anybody on the
island. He was naturally an intelligent man; and he might have attained
influence in the community had it not been for his utter aimlessness of
character, his indifference to fortune, and his consuming thirst for
rum.

"Many yachtsmen who have had occasion to stop at Pocock for water or for
harbor shelter during eastern cruises, will remember a long, listless
figure, astonishingly attired in blue army pants, rubber boots, loose
toga made of some bright chintz material, and very bad hat, staggering
through the little settlement, followed by a rabble of jeering brats,
and pausing to strike uncertain blows at those within reach of the dead
sculpin which he usually carried round by the tai