A FEW years ago I was spending a holiday with a friend who lives in a quiet village in the Lake District. We were returning home one evening from a neighbouring village, and our path led us across an old stone bridge spanning a swiftly-flowing stream. Here I could not hear the voice of my friend because of the deafening roar of the waterfall which was only a short distance from the bridge. By the side of the waterfall was a powder mill, where most of the inhabitants of the village earned their livelihood. After we had passed through the avenue leading from the bridge, my friend related to me a very strange experience she had whilst passing over the same bridge one evening during the Great War. Looking towards the waterfall, she saw, to her amazement and fear, the figure of her husband, dressed in white, and waving his hand to her as if in farewell. Almost at the same time her husband's father, who was then at work in the powder mill, saw the same figure of his son at his old place, but waving his hand to him in a similar manner. The following week my friend received the sad news that her husband had fallen in action, and, on making inquiries, discovered that he had been killed on the same day and at the same hour that she had seen him standing on the waterfall bidding her “Good-bye.” “Hello, Daddy!” THIS is a most curious incident I now relate, unexplained, and I think that nobody will ever be able to explain it. I can vouch for the truth of every word of it. During the morning of a day in the early part of July, 1915, I was busily engaged hanging out the clothes to dry in my back garden, when, suddenly, I heard footsteps coming up the passage. I thought that they sounded familiar, so I turned round and watched the gate. You can realise my astonishment when I saw the gate open, my late husband walk in, shut the gate after him, open the kitchen door and enter the house. I immediately set down my washing basket and ran down the back garden to the house, being so excited at seeing him back, as I thought, from Egypt, where he was serving in the Great War. I entered the house and, seeing nobody about in the kitchen, I looked behind the kitchen door, expecting that I should find him there, as he often used to hide there when he came home, and then jump out so as to give me a surprise. Seeing that he was not there, I thought that he must be in the living-room, so I went in there, exclaiming as I entered, “Hello, Daddy.” Imagine my surprise when I found the room empty, and also that no one had entered the room at all. What did I see and hear? I can swear that I heard my late husband's footsteps, and that I saw him in his khaki uniform, complete with everything that a soldier has when he comes home on leave. I also saw and heard the gate open and close, as also I did the kitchen door.