Many years ago, when knights, maids and dragons ruled the romantic world, there lived a maid within the castle who was betrothed to a young knight of a neighbouring domain. The day of the wedding was fixed and all would have ended happily were it not for a great tragedy which overcame the proceedings. One day, just after paying his court to the young lady, the knight was set upon by robbers, killed, and his body flung into the moat. His fiancée could see all this, but was unable to help, but she was so overcome that she threw herself over the parapet into the moat after him. The body of the knight was found some time later washed up on the sea-shore, but that of the maid was never discovered, and the belief is that she still haunts the castle awaiting the arrival of her beloved. A Daylight Ghost Story SOME years ago, some friends took a house for three months at the seaside. In August, I went to stay with them arriving about three on a sunny afternoon. Coming downstairs from the bedroom, I had to pass the open door of a room immediately at the foot of the stairs. Standing just inside, with her back towards me, was a woman dressed in drab, and with her hair arranged in an old-fashioned way; she was looking out of a window, and I paused a moment wondering who it was. I continued my way down and, when within three yards of her, the figure vanished. I went into the room, looked all round—no one there. Then I realised it was a ghost. Next day I saw a coloured photo of a woman with dress and hair just like the apparition’s. It was not until some weeks later that we were told the portrait was of the owner's first wife. The house had been left her by a relative, and she had planned to have the window, at which I had seen her standing, changed into a bow. Sudden illness seized her and she died, trying to say something about the window. Some other friends who had the house lent them before this time, saw the figure of a woman going before them up the stairs, but there was no one. Another friend was sitting on the lawn facing that window when the house was empty, and saw the figure of a woman pass across it. She went into the house—no one there—all doors locked. It was not until months later that we told each other what we had seen. Are not these apparitions what Mrs. Besant calls “thought-forms?” This woman knew nothing of me; her thoughts came back to the familiar spot and the familiar dress. When I came too near this “form” apparently so solid, but as evanescent as a soap bubble, it broke and vanished. “The Very Same Ghost” AS a young medical student on holiday I used often to stay with a doctor uncle, and even now, looking back after all these years, I feel grateful for all I learnt while accompanying him on his rounds.