ghost who illustrates the story, spread all over
Europe, of the farmer who was driven from his house by a bogle. As
his carts went along the road, the bogle was heard exclaiming,
'We're flitting today,' and it faithfully stayed with the family.
This tale, current in Italy as well as in Northern England, might be
regarded as a mere piece of folklore, if the incident had not
reproduced itself in West Brompton. In 1870 the T.'s took a house
here: now mark the artfulness of the ghost, it did nothing for
eighteen months. In autumn, 1871, Miss T. saw a figure come out of
the dining-room, and the figure was often seen, later, by five
independent witnesses. It was tall, dressed in grey, and was
chiefly fond of haunting Miss T.'s own room. It did not walk, it
glided, making no noise. Mr. T. met it in the hall, once, when he
came in at night, and from the street he saw it standing in the
drawing-room window. It used to sigh and make a noise as of steps,
when it was not visible, it knocked and moved furniture about, and
dropped weights, but these sounds were sometimes audible only to
one, or a few of the observers. In 1877 the T.'s left for another
house, to which Miss T. did not repair till 1879. Then the noises
came back as badly as ever,--the bogle had flitted,--and, on
Christmas Day, 1879, Miss T. saw her old friend the figure. Several
members of the family never saw it at all. One lady, in another
case, Miss Nettie Vatas-Simpson, tried to flap a ghost away with a
towel, {150} but he was not thus to be exorcised. He presently went
out through a locked door.

Such are the ordinary or typical phenomena of haunted houses. It is
plainly of no use to take a haunted house for a month and then say
it is not haunted because you see no ghosts. Even where they have
been seen there are breaks of years without any 'manifestations'.
Besides, the evidence shows that it is not every one who can see a
ghost when he is there: Miss Morton's father could not see the lady
in black, when she was visible to Miss Morton.

It is difficult to write with perfect seriousness about haunted
houses. The writer will frankly confess that, when living in
haunted houses (as he has done at various times when suffering from
illness and overwork), he takes a very solemn view of the matter
about bed-time. If 'expectant attention' on a mind strained by the
schools, and a body enfeebled by bronchitis, could have made a man,
who was the only occu