was the only monument of the kind in that part of the country, it had
always been regarded with feelings of superstition by the good wives of
the village. It was said to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of
the churchyard in stormy nights, particularly when it thundered; and one
old woman, whose cottage bordered on the churchyard, had seen it,
through the windows of the church, when the moon shone, slowly pacing up
and down the aisles. It was the belief that some wrong had been left
unredressed by the deceased, or some treasure hidden, which kept the
spirit in a state of trouble and restlessness. Some talked of gold and
jewels buried in the tomb, over which the spectre kept watch; and there
was a story current of a sexton in old times who endeavoured to break
his way to the coffin at night; but just as he reached it, received a
violent blow from the marble hand of the effigy, which stretched him
senseless on the pavement. These tales were often laughed at by some of
the sturdier among the rustics, yet when night came on, there were many
of the stoutest unbelievers that were shy of venturing alone in the
footpath that led across the churchyard.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

From these and other anecdotes that followed, the crusader appeared to
be the favourite hero of ghost stories throughout the vicinity. His
picture, which hung up in the hall, was thought by the servants to have
something supernatural about it; for they remarked that, in whatever
part of the hall you went, the eyes of the warrior were still fixed on
you. The old porter's wife, too, at the lodge, who had been born and
brought up in the family, and was a great gossip among the
maid-servants, affirmed, that in her young days she had often heard say,
that on Midsummer eve, when it is well known all kinds of ghosts,
goblins, and fairies become visible and walk abroad, the crusader used
to mount his horse, come down from his picture, ride about the house,
down the avenue, and so to the church to visit the tomb; on which
occasion the church-door most civilly swung open of itself: not that he
needed it; for he rode through closed gates and even stone walls, and
had been seen by one of the dairymaids to pass between two bars of the
great park gate, making himself as thin as a sheet of paper.

All these superstitions I found had been very much countenanced by the
Squire, who, though not superstitious himself, was very fond of seeing
others so. He