“It was in the gathering dusk of a summer evening that I tripped merrily down the stairs to meet George. We were not married then, but courting. Near the foot of the first stair I was surprised to see a girlish figure, clad in white, come gliding up the stairs. Her face was in shadow, but her dark hair floated over her shoulders. As she came nearer, something impelled me to lay my hand on the railing and go backwards step by step. She came on slowly, and, retreating so, I had time to see her figure quite distinctly though her face and feet remained in shadow. Her white dress was filled with tiny frills right up to the waist. She wore a girdle of narrow black velvet that fell in loops on the left side. There was black velvet at her wrists, and, I think, at her throat. Also I distinctly saw red strands of hair amongst the brown. “I felt no sensation of fear—only a sort of fascination—till I reached the top of the stair. I turned my head to see if my aunt's door was open, and found it was. Then, somehow, such terror seized me I could not look round again, but, screaming loudly, I ran inside and shut the door. “My aunt, who had been chatting to a neighbour, came rushing in, and she and others were enraged to think that someone had so frightened me. The stairs, back court, and everywhere about was searched, but I knew they might have saved their pains. The girl I saw was no ordinary being of flesh and blood. Nothing happened afterwards; no warning had been conveyed, nor could anyone identify my girlish ghost with any known celebrity who had lived there. I do not know why she came, nor why she appeared to me, but she was there and, for the moment, was as real as myself.” This lady knows nothing about clairvoyance, had never attended a Spiritualists’ meeting in her life, and her simple narrative impressed all present as an absolutely true statement. She died last summer, but her husband could, I am sure, testify to the truth of what is here related. “The Old Master” IN the eventide of a busy life I find a pleasant relaxation from my little daily duties in reading different items in the Daily News, and have been especially interested in those letters on “Visitants.” These have brought to my mind incidents which have taken place during my lifetime. In my young days ghosts were much believed in, and some were seen which afterwards were proved to be the work of foolish young fellows. But a short distance from my father’s house was a nice old farm where a well-known family had lived for several generations. The grandfather of the then resident family had been quite a unique character in the district, and had been known as “the old master.” A grandson, who had been abroad for a considerable time, returned to the old home, bringing a manservant with him. A spare room not being available for the man, a comfortable bed was made for him in the big farm-kitchen.