J. S. Le Fanu's Ghostly Tales, Volume 3

rge and

air, when the tall gables and narrow windows of its ancient graystone houses, and the tower of the old church, from which every evening the curfew still rings, show like si

' looking so light and filmy, that you could scarcely believ

inn-sign, perhaps, left in England. It looks right across the lake; the road that skirts its margin running by the steps of the hall-door, opposite to which, at the other side of the

r four of the old habitués of that cozy lounge were

arp enough, as on the present occasion, a fire helped to light it up; which fire, being chiefly

rs, a thin old gentleman, who had lived for more than thirty years in India, and was quiet and benevolent, and the last man in Golden Friars who wore a pigtail. Old Jack Amerald, an ex-captain of the navy, with his short stout leg on a chair, and its wooden companion beside it, sipped his grog, and bawled in the old-fashioned navy way, and called his friends his 'hearties.

at last," said the Doctor. "Te

George. "Nothing to speak of; only 'tis certain sure

ul o' money by this time, hey?" said th

mind saying so to you, mind, sir, where all's fr

n where he is," said the Do

, to pull-up in time. He's coming here to save a little, and perhaps he'll marry; and it is the

gently, Mr. Peers resum

ce; that is, I'm told he d

id the Doctor wit

d," cried old Jack Amerald. "Didn't he

let them hear you say that;

and eyes open, and his pipe in his hand, "why, sir, I pay rent for the hou

aving his wooden leg in its horizontal pos

y, and from the George and Dragon sign down here-down to the white house under Forrick Fells. I could fix a buoy over the very spot. Some one here told me th

bbin'. But 'twas his grandsire was talked o', not him; and 'twould play the hangment wi' m

her; 'twas all one

, and he full out as mich as any. Not that I need care more than another, though they do say he's a bit frowsy and short-waisted; for he can't shouther me out o' the George while I pay my rent, till nine hundred and ninety-nine year be rin oot; and a man, be he ne'er sa het, has time to cool befo

and then he said, "But for all that, the story's old, D

n," interposed the

; and the mistake he has made shows there's one thing worse than its being quite remembered, and that is, its being half remembered.

over the place, and that's how I came to hear it. I say, Tom, my hearty, serve us out another glass of brandy, will you?" shouted the Captain's voice as the wai

ykes that was then. They was but knights then. They was made baronets first in the reign of King George the Second; you may see it in the list of baronets and the nobility. The lease was made to William Turnbull, which came from London; and he built the stables, which they was out o' repair, as you may read to this day in the lease; and the house has never had but one sign since-the George and Dragon, it is pretty well known in England-and one name to its master. It has been owned by a Turnbull from that day to this, and they have not been counted bad men." A murmur of applause testified the assent of his guests

oul here but ourselves-and we're all friends, and you are your own master-and, hang it, yo

o our liquor, my heart

no interest in the petition, was at least a safe witness,

shoulder. The door was closed, the fire was cheery, and the pu

any rate, 'twill prevent mistakes. It is more than ninety years since. My father

lass he mused, and sti