ore fears in
connection with Ephraim Garnett. To make matters more entirely
comfortable, however, John kindly took to the custom of walking home
with the lad after night-school was ended. In return for this
attention, Bill's family were apt to ask him in for an hour; and by
their fire-side he told the story of the two ghosts so often--from the
manufacture in the Rectory barn to the final apparition at the
cross-roads--that the whole family declare they feel just as if they
had seen it.

Bessy, under the hands of the cheerful doctor, got quite well, and
eventually married. As her cottage boasts the finest window plants in
the village, it is shrewdly surmised that her husband is a gardener.

Bully Tom talked very loudly for some time of "having the law of" the
rival ghost; but finding, perhaps, that the story did not redound to
his credit, was unwilling to give it further publicity, and changed
his mind.

Winter and summer, day and night, sunshine and moonlight, have passed
over the lane and the churchyard, and the wind has had many a ghostly
howl among the yews, since poor Bill learnt the story of the murder;
but he knows now that the true Ephraim Garnett has never been seen on
the cross-roads since a hundred years ago, and will not be till the
Great Day.

In the ditch by the side of Yew-lane shortly after the events I have
been describing, a little lad found a large turnip, in which someone
had cut eyes, nose, and mouth, and put bits of stick for teeth. The
turnip was hollow, and inside it was fixed a bit of wax candle. He
lighted it up, and the effect was so splendid, that he made a show of
it to his companions at the price of a marble each, who were well
satisfied. And this was the last of the Yew-lane Ghosts.

A BAD HABIT.

CHAPTER I.

"Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live."

SHAKESPEARE.

My godmother, Lady Elizabeth, used to say, "Most things are matters of
habit. Good habits and bad habits." And she generally added, "_Your_
bad habit, Selina, is a habit of grumbling."

I was always accustomed to seeing great respect paid to anything my
godmother said or did. In the first place, she was what Mrs. Arthur
James Johnson called "a fine lady," and what the maids called "a real
lady." She was an old friend and, I think, a relative of my fath