“There, I told you so, but you didn’t believe me. You see I’m right, after all.” “All right, Balaam,” said Adam Olliver. “Ah telled tha’ ’at if thoo didn’t tonn tayl if we sud see it, ah wadn’t. What diz tho’ say? will tho’ feeace it?” By this time they had arrived at the gate of the paddock in which the haunted ruins stood. Balaam had for many years enjoyed the free run of that pasturage whenever he was off duty, and this with the hearty good-will of Farmer Houston, for his owner’s sake. This familiarity with the haunts of Sister Agatha doubtless accounted for Balaam’s belief in spiritualism, as he had in this way repeated opportunities of studying the remarkable phenomena connected with this particular illustration of that occult and mysterious science. As Piggy Morris said, “Seein’s believin’, all the world over,” and as “familiarity breeds contempt,” according to the well-known proverb, there is little cause of surprise that the sagacious animal did not display any fear of the dread nocturnal visitor that filled all Nestleton with alarm. Be this as it may, Balaam, altogether unaccustomed to such unconscionably late hours, promptly came to the conclusion that his master would now turn him into the paddock for the night, and so he trotted boldly up to the gate, and inserting his nose between the bars, looked with wistful eye, though not much like the poet’s “disconsolate Peri,” into the green and restful Paradise within. “Well dun, Balaam! That’s a challenge, at ony rayte,” said Adam, “an’ ah weean’t refuse it. Ah nivver was freetened o’ nowt bud the divvil, an’ noo, thenk the Lord, ah deean’t care a button for ’im. Nut ’at ah think it is ’im. It’s sum Tom Feeal, ah fancy, at’s deein’ it for a joak; bud he hez neea business te flay fooaks oot o’ the’r wits, an’ ah’ll see whea it is.” He opened the gate, and, nothing loth, Balaam boldly trotted over the grass, and again the apparition showed itself, just as it had appeared to Jake Olliver several nights ago. “Woy,” said Adam to his reckless steed, and the ghost, observing the daring intruder, stretched out its hands in menace, and advanced until it stood beneath the arch, on the spot it usually selected for its subterranean evanishment. Here another woeful, wailing shriek arose; Adam for the first time felt an odd tingling sensation, and a sort of creepy-crawly feeling that would be difficult to analyse. The ass, however, showed not the least surprise, so Adam stood up again in his stirrups, though he was “a goodish bit dumfoonder’d,” as he afterwards confessed, and said in a loud voice,-- “Jesus the neeame ’igh ower all, I’ hell or ’arth or sky; Aingels an’ men afoore it fall, An’ divvils fear an’ fly!”