Reader, have you ever, at the solemn hour of midnight, while listening to the recital of some fearful visitation from the land of spirits, felt your hair to bristle, and your flesh to creep, and your blood to chill with horror, as you imagined that some terrible being was at that moment standing outside the door, ready to glide into the room and stand beside your chair? Did you not then dread to look behind you as you drew close to your companions, and became almost breathless with painful interest in the story? Solemn feeling prevailed among Simon's guests, as Toby Tunk, the fat coachman, who had been relating his experience in ghosts uttered the following words:-- 'Well, I was sitting by the coffin, looking at the corpse, when the door slowly opened, and--' Toby was fearfully interrupted, for the door of that room DID slowly open and there entered a being of so terrible an aspect, that all the assembled guests recoiled from its presence with horror and affright. It advanced towards the fireplace, seated itself in an unoccupied chair, and surveyed the company with menacing eyes. The form of the spectre was tall, and its countenance was ghastly and awful to behold; it was enveloped in a cloak, and where its right hand should have been, was a massive piece of iron which joined the wrist. At length, after an interval, during which all the guests came near dying with fear, it spoke in a harsh and threatening tone:-- 'Those of ye that belong not in this house, depart instantly, on peril of your lives; and if any there be who _do_ belong here, let them remain, and stir not!' All, with the exception of poor Simon, tremblingly left the room and the house, resolved never again to cross the threshold of a place visited by such fearful beings. The spectre then turned to the affrightened footman, and said, with a hideous frown-- 'Now, rascal, tell me what has become of your mistress and her daughter--where have they gone--speak!' But Simon, imagining that he had to do with a being from the other world, fell upon his knees and began to mutter a prayer. 'Accursed fool!' cried the supposed spectre, striking him with his iron hand--'does _that_ feel like the touch of a shadowy ghost? Get up, and answer me; I am no ghost, but a living man--living, though known as the Dead Man. Where have the two Franklin ladies gone?' Now Simon, convinced that his visitor was indeed no ghost, was beginning to regain his natural shrewdness: and remembering the injunctions of his mistress, not to reveal where she had gone, with her daughter, he replied, in accordance with the instructions which he had received-- 'The ladies have gone to Philadelphia.' 'Liar!' cried the Dead Man--'you betray yourself; had you answered with more hesitation, I might have believed you--the readiness of your reply proves its falsehood. Now, by hell! tell me correctly where the ladies have gone, or I'll murder you!'