Spooks.

I have been taking a hair-raising course of ghost stories—try that excellent collection, “A Supernatural Omnibus”—and the thought naturally comes that New Zealand is too young yet to have accumulated much of this kind of lore. Pakeha ghost stories, of course; there is any amount of supernatural association in Maoridom, with its belief in wairua, kehua, matakite or second-sight, and the like. Our dwellinghouses are not yet old enough to have attracted the serious attention of ghosts. Here and there, though, one has seen lonely houses which might well harbour a spook or two. I remember in a certain part of the Waikato a pioneer farmhouse, locally called “Matai Castle,” because of the timber chiefly used in its building, which always gave me a shivery feeling, it looked so spooky and unhealthy. A number of the family which owned it had died in it, and perhaps that fact made special impress on healthy youth.

Down in Opotiki the old home of the Rev. Volkner, the missionary who was murdered by the Hauhau fanatics in 1865, was reputed to be haunted by the spirit of the martyred clergyman. There was a creepy story to the effect that at midnight there were sounds as if a heavy body were being dragged from step to step down the stairs. But the historic church is, of all places, a building that the missionary's spirit might well haunt, for the reading-desk on which his head was set by the devilish prophet Kereopa, still bears the stains of his blood. The full story of that tragedy makes blood-curdling reading. But in general New Zealand has yet to raise its ghostly visitants.

By the way, I have discovered that the best time to read a collection of ghost stories is between midnight and three o'clock in the morning. Particularly if the night is still, with now and again a little wandering waft of a breeze making a low “whee-ooh” around the house. In that way you get the right atmosphere and the full flavour of the spook tales. Try it.