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 laughed at this of course; and when the bet had been made, be produced a turnip somewhere about seven times the size. But Obadiah Drant would not admit that he had lost—he declared that he would never give in until Legge had decided the point; and thus Jones—who well knew that he had won——was seduced to the Crumpet and Crown.

Being there, he of course was considered a fixture. Pokey—who was artful in his way—hailed him as the first horticulturist in the county, and as the majority freely subscribed to this opinion, Jones was on very good terms with himself.

They then cautiously alluded to the philosophy of spectres, and when Click, with all the energy at his command, declared his conviction that spirits never appeared upon earth, Jones looked at him with an expression of pity, and then walked out of his silent shell.

"What!" he exclaimed, "do you mean to mean that spirits never comes upon this blessed earth."

"Brayvo!" cried Obadiah Drant.

"Why, I see one last night!" resumed Jones.

"And so did I," said Obadiah.

"But not the one as I seed," said Jones.

"Mine was a tall'un," returned Obadiah; "a white'un! a white'un on horseback."

"That a'n't the one then as I seed. I seed one—a white'un and a tall'un—"

"Where?" demanded Click.

"Where! Why at the cottage!"

"Were you at the cottage then last night?" said Legge.

"In course we was there! me and master?"

"Indeed! I was not aware of that. But tell us what occurred, I am anxious to hear."

"Well," said Jones, "but mind, it musn't go further."

"Of course not, of course not. No, no, no—no!" they exclaimed, simultaneously, "certainly not."

"Well, then—a little after three o'clock this blessed morning, when master and me was consulting about rakes, horticulture, and religion, we heerd a scraping on the path that leads from the gate to the front door. Very well, says I, this'll do nicely: we'll wait till you tries to get in, my carrots. But before we'd time to turn ourselves round, in walks a spirit! Very well, thinks I; it's all very good, you know, as far as it goes, but what do you mean to be after? Well! the spirit takes not the leasest notice of me, but up he goes to the sideboard, and looks, and presently he shakes his head awful, and turns and then stalks out of the parlour. 'I say,' says I, 'what do you think of that?' says I to master. 'Rum, very rum,' says he, 'uncommon rum.' 'Well,' says I, 'the breezes is blowing very cold,' says I, 'let's shet the door'—and I went to shet it, and send I may live! if the front door wasn't as wide open as ever it could stick! Well! this did queer us rayther more than a little, but we shet the front door, and then blow me, if we didn't see the self-same spirit a going up stairs, as slow and deliberate as if he belonged to the house, and paid all the rates and taxes. 'Well,' says I,