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18, 1863.] great coat, a waterproof cape, and some other garments.

“I think if we remove these things,” said Mr. Bradley, “we shall discover the entrance into the other room.”

The coats were instantly taken down, but still we could see no signs of any communication with the “haunted room.”

“This closet, you observe, is not eighteen inches in depth, and as there is no recess by the side of the chimney in the other room, there must be plenty of space for another closet of similar dimensions at the back of this—the question is, how is it to be got at?”

“My carpenter can show us that,” said the Squire, “he fitted up the plate closet, and made this for the servants at the same time.”

“And you were absent from home at the time, so I think Mrs. Lofty told me?”

“Yes, she cunningly suggested that the job had better be done when I was out of the way, on account of the dust and other disturbances it would make. I see her reasons now, the old hypocrite!”

“You need not send for the carpenter: ‘a sliding door, like the one her master had ordered to be fastened up,’ that is what she said, and though she was much confused, and at times quite incoherent, repeating these words frequently without any obvious sense, I believe I now understand what she meant. Those pegs, you see, are placed above the panel, and are immoveable, but the panel itself, which in fact forms the partition between the two rooms, I have no doubt is the one she attempted to describe.”

It was probably a great many years since the door had been moved, so that it did not give way immediately when we endeavoured to push it aside. However, after some little impatience, and a good deal of humouring, we at length got it to slide in the groove which had been made for it.

If there were any doubt remaining in our minds as to the nature of the apparitions which had caused so much dismay in the family in gone by times, what we now beheld would have dissipated it, for on the back of the panel which opened into the “haunted room,” hung two pasteboard masks, made closely to represent two death’s heads, and on the floor lay a heap of dusty, yellow-looking linen, which had once been white. On removing these ghostly habiliments, we found two skeleton hands, or the imitations of them, for I cannot say that I examined them sufficiently to know what materials they were made of. Such were the abominable disguises that had been used by the butler and the housekeeper his wife!

There now remained only to remove the partition between the closet and the “haunted room.” This was done without any difficulty, after a small iron hook, or catch, had been raised. The passage between the two rooms was thus easily made, yet quite imperceptible when it was closed.

Some of the company present proposed that the masks and other trumpery should be publicly shown in the village, but the old clergyman suggested that it would be far better they should be burnt, and as the Squire was of the same opinion, we immediately made an auto da fe of all the rubbish.

“There is one thing I don’t quite understand,” said the Squire, speaking to Mr. Bradley, “how was it that you never till now told me of the rascally trick that had been played by Lofty and his wife?”

“You recollect that I left Sandiland just at the time of the old woman’s death. If I had remained here, most likely the subject would have been mentioned, and the discovery which we have just now made, would have been made sixteen years ago. But the fact is I had not any notion that the audacious plan of using frightful disguises had ever been carried into execution, or that your father himself had ever been so insulted by his servants. What was meant about the sliding door I never suspected till last night, when you told us of the secret closet that had formerly been used for plate. I think, sir, that the ghost is now for ever laid, and that this room may very safely be used in future; perhaps it would be the best way of silencing foolish tongues if it were slept in occasionally. Some of these young men—”

Four or five candidates offered themselves immediately.

Before the party at Sandiland broke up, I was obliged to return to my studies. Many years have rolled on since those happy days, bringing their stores of good and of evil, bringing new friends and dearer relations, sweeping away old friends, none more dear to me than my kind-hearted old friend the Squire. The Major, too, is gone, and the fine old house where we met has passed into very different hands, and is no longer what it was!

early times—so ancient authors tell us—the Danish nation, like every other primeval community, lived the hardy life of hunters. Scarcely had an infant uttered its first feeble wail, than it was plunged into a stream of ice-cold water, or rolled in a heap of snow. “No art, no nurse,” says the Danish author, Schœning, “taught the little Dane to walk;” he acquired the accomplishment himself, scrambling naked upon the earth among the scattered branches of trees, upon which he laid hold to raise himself from the ground. As soon as he could run with ease, he was set to explore the recesses of the forest, to launch his tiny arrow at the abundant game, or to paddle his little skiff over the smooth waters of the numerous lakes and creeks in search of fish. His nourishment was strong and coarse, but suited to the Danish climate, which is cold and humid, although pure and sufficiently healthy. A very common dish among the early Danes was gammelmad. This was a kind of salted meat; and the name of the dish, signifying in English stale food, originated in the custom of cooking it a week beforehand. An ancient writer on physiology praises the salubrity of this national diet; which was only varied by the occasional introduction of fish in various forms; or of the different soups