it run to ruin. It's pretty generally thought that I
fear neither man nor devil; but--oh! here it is; here is the will. I
care nothing for the rest, provided this be cancelled."

"Ay, master, they said the ghost never left off scratching as long as
anybody was in the room. Which room was it, I wonder?--I never thought
on't to inquire; but--- I don't like this a bit. It runs in my head it
is the very place; and behind that wall, too, where it took up its
quarters like as it might be just a-back of the paper there. Think you,
master, the old tyke has pull'd it down wi' scratching?"

"Gilbert," said my uncle solemnly, "I don't like these jests of thine.
Save them, I prithee, for fitter subjects. The will is what we came for.
Let us dispose of that quietly, and I promise thee I'll never set foot
here again."

As he spoke he approached the candle--it was just within my view--and
opened the will that it might yield the more readily to the blaze. I
watched him evidently preparing to consume a document with which I felt
convinced my welfare and interests were intimately connected. There was
not a moment to be lost; but how to get possession was no easy
contrivance. If I sallied forth to its rescue they might murder me, or
at least prevent its falling into my hands. This plan could only prolong
its existence a few moments, and would to a certainty ensure its
eventual destruction. Gilbert's dissertation on the occupations and
amusements of the ghosts came very opportunely to my aid, and
immediately I put into execution what now appeared my only hope of its
safety. Just as a corner of the paper was entering the flame I gave a
pretty loud scratch, at the same time anxiously observing the effect it
might produce. I was overjoyed to find the enemy intimidated at least by
the first fire. Another volley, and another succeeded, until even the
sceptical Gilbert was dismayed. My uncle seemed riveted to the spot, his
hands widely disparted, so that the flame and its destined prey were now
pretty far asunder. Neither of the culprits spoke; and I hoped that
little more would be necessary to rout them fairly from the field. As
yet they did not seem disposed to move; and I was afraid of a rally,
should reason get the better of their fears.

"Rats! rats!" shouted Gilbert. "We'll singe their tails for them." The
scratching ceased. Again the paper was approaching to its dreaded
catastrophe.

"_Beware!_" I cried, in a deep and sepulchral tone