One night, mother and I were sitting together playing cards, laughing and chatting gaily, a bright fire burning, the room well lighted, everything about us very matter of fact, and we ourselves feeling in the highest spirits. Suddenly three sharp, clear shots rang out, seeming to come from the back room which we called the garden room because it gave straight on to the garden. We both jumped up, scattering the cards on the floor, and mother ran to the door. As she opened it, I saw her stand, rigid: the dark, heavy curtains in the hall leading to the stairs were waving to and fro as though blown by a strong breeze. She afterwards told me that she felt her scalp freeze and her hair rise. I was trembling, but advanced boldly to the stairs and commenced to ascend. When I reached the third from the top I stood, rooted; my feet refused to carry me any further. I lifted them to do so; but it was of no use, so I was obliged to come down again. All the time I had that horrible and indefinable feeling that there was another presence near me, all about the house, besides my mother's. My sister came in and we told her. On two more successive nights we were tormented with most weird and hateful noises, which disturbed our peace and made us unable to do anything while they continued. My sister was with us the next night, and this time, not shots but other noises, seeming to come from the cellar, occurred. Sometimes we knocked at the walls and cellar door, but this only seemed to aggravate the unknown disturbers; for the sounds were redoubled. Knowing that rats sometimes make strange noises, my mother put some pieces of fat meat in the cellar in likely places. But no trace of mice or rats did we ever discover and the meat remained untouched. On the last night of these visitations, my brother was with us, and I think it was as well, for our nerves would not have borne much more alone. Still the noises in the cellar continued, and this time like loud, heavy footsteps walking up and down. We were kept up until the small hours with these horrid sounds almost continuous until, at last, they ceased altogether, and we were permitted to sleep. Next day a complete search of the cellar was made, but no trace of anything or anyone was found. Soon after, we moved away, but from that day to this our strange experience has been an unsolved mystery. THAT NAUGHTY MAN “GHOSTS or no ghosts,” said my friend Terrington, “what I am going to tell you is absolutely true. It is strange and inexplicable, and I make no effort to explain the happening. Listen.” Twenty-five years ago I obtained work at a factory in a northern town, and, eventually, got a house near my work—a little old-fashioned dwelling which had once been used as a shop. My little girl, Marion, was then about four years old and had always been a good child to take to bed.