ing one of that carnal-minded person's several
personalities,--it may have been the phantasm of a vagrarian, of a
barrowvian, or, of some other kind of elemental, attracted to the spot
by its extreme loneliness, and the presence there, unsuspected by man,
of some ancient remains, either human or animal. Occult dogs are very
often of a luminous, semi-transparent bluish-grey--a bluish-grey that is
common to many other kinds of superphysical phenomena, but which I have
never seen in the physical world.

I have heard of several houses in Westmoreland and Devon, always in the
vicinity of ancient burial-places, being haunted by blue dogs, and
sometimes by blue dogs without heads. Indeed, headless apparitions of
all sorts are by no means uncommon. A lady, who is well known to me, had
a very unpleasant experience in a house in Norfolk, where she was
awakened one night by a scratching on her window-pane, which was some
distance from the ground, and, on getting out of bed to see what was
there, perceived the huge form of a shaggy dog, without a head, pressed
against the glass.

Fortunately for my informant, the manifestation was brief. The height of
the window from the ground quite precluded the possibility of the
apparition being any natural dog, and my friend was subsequently
informed that what she had seen was one of the many headless phantasms
that haunted the house. Of course, it does not follow that because one
does not actually see a head, a head is not objectively there--it may be
very much there, only not materialised. A story of one of these
seemingly headless apparitions was once told me by a Mrs Forbes du Barry
whom I met at Lady D.'s house in Eaton Square. I remember the at-home to
which I refer, particularly well, as the entertainment on that occasion
was entirely entrusted to Miss Lilian North, who as a reciter and
raconteur is, in my opinion, as far superior to any other reciter and
raconteur as the stars are superior to the earth. Those who have not
heard her stories, have not listened to her eloquent voice--that appeals
not merely to the heart, but to the soul--are to be pitied. But there--I
am digressing. Let me proceed. It was, I repeat, on the soul-inspiring
occasion above mentioned that I was introduced to Mrs Forbes du Barry,
who must be held responsible for the following story.

"I was reading one of your books the other day, Mr O'Donnell," she
began, "and some of your experiences remind me of one of my