SOME years ago, whilst spending a night in an old inn, I was awakened by the disagreeable impression that I was not alone. To my amazement, at the foot of my bed (an old-fashioned four-poster), stood a girl, with a baby in her outstretched arms. Her eyes were fixed imploringly on mine, as though begging for help or protection. I noticed that she had a mob cap on her head, and a quaint wrapper of some fashion unknown to me. I begged her to tell me what I could do for her, but she made no reply, and, a moment later, she had disappeared. I rose at once and searched the room. Door and windows were securely fastened, and I could find no trace of my mysterious visitor. Convinced at last that I had been dreaming, I returned to bed. Presently, the woman with her baby reappeared, this time at the side of the bed! She spoke no word, but, with the same expression of anguish, gazed imploringly at me. Then she vanished. When for the third time, I became aware of her presence beside my pillow, I was seized with terror and called loudly for help. Then I must have fainted for, when I came to myself, it was broad daylight. When questioned, my hostess could give me no explanation. She admitted, however, that she had heard my cries, but that neither she nor her servants dared enter the chamber after nightfall. The room was supposed to be haunted, and other visitors had seen the woman and her baby as described by me. The inn has since been pulled down and a hostel erected in its place. LEVERSHULME MY father became tenant of the Manor House in a village in the Midlands and moved in with mother and six children, five girls (including me) and one boy. I was then twelve years old. Many were the warnings kindly given to us by the villagers that the house was haunted, but, being a merry family, and father and brother keen on shooting, they laughingly warned off any intruders from outside. We younger were not so dubious. The rooms were large and opened off long passages and had an eerie effect, especially at night.