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By Henry Lapham.

By Way of Prologue.

We Four were Jack Conliffe, Harry Clare, Archie Black, and I. We were seated in a hotel parlour on a winter night. We had played cards till we were tired, and now sat talking fitfully. At last I said, “It will be very dark for you, boys, going home to-night. Take care you don't come to grief crossing over the Creek, or see a ghost; it is just the night for such things to be abroad.”

“I recollect going home one pitch dark night,” said Archie, “after listening to a lot of ghost and murder stories, and suddenly I tumbled over a white calf. The brute got up in a hurry with a most unearthly bellow, and I really thought my hair was ‘turned all white.’ I don't believe I was ever so startled before.”

This led the conversation to the subjects of frights in general.

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