The house had for some time had the reputation of being haunted, but of this the man knew nothing. However, in the early morning he suddenly woke up to see a stout old gentleman walking down a long passage which was opposite the bed. He came noiselessly into the kitchen, and the old sheep dog that lay on the mat by the fireplace at once jumped up, wagging its tail, and ran to him, when he vanished from sight. In the morning the man related his experience to the family, and, on being questioned, gave an exact description of “the old master.” The Little Grey Lady WITHIN three miles of my native city, on the outskirts of a little village, rather isolated by its grounds and its position on a slight eminence, stands a picturesque verandahed dwelling, which at one time was inhabited by elderly cousins of mine. Their father lived with them, and when very occasionally they left him in the house alone for a time, he invariably remarked that they need not mind, for he always had someone near him. This was his only reference to the spirit which haunted the place. Later, the house passed into the possession of townsfolk, who removed to it on account of the failing health of their only child. They had been there only a few days when a frightened scream from the child’s room made them both rush to it, to find her sitting up in bed, with eyes protruding and cheeks blanched. On seeing them, she wildly shrieked: “The little grey lady, the little grey lady! She has gone through the wall.” They soothed her, but could not persuade her that it was merely a nightmare. Within a week of this, the father chanced to be absent from home for a few days, and the mother shared the child’s room. Again the wild cry arose, suddenly wakening her, and she, with the child, beheld the figure of a little old woman, garbed in a grey shawl and apron, who moved with the aid of a stick, making a strange little stumping noise. She paused by a dressing chest, and appeared to search anxiously for something, then just faded out.