“There was just light enough to enable us to discern the movements of the object we were tracking. Leaving the yard, it entered a building opposite our point of observation. Immediately there was a scuffling sound as of some one struggling, and, terrified and alarmed, we rushed across the yard. What a spectacle we beheld! Never shall I forget the sight which met our gaze. The figure in white was stooping over a living form, which emitted the most horrifying cries and sounds that ever fell on mortal ears. One hand was on the throat, and in the other was the uplifted weapon of destruction. “As we looked we seemed to gain fresh courage, and rushed forward to prevent, if possible, the coming blow, but as we entered, the hand dropped, and the dagger entered the throat. Then, with one terrible shriek and an unavailing struggle, the eyes closed and the living, animate form became forever still. There, facing us, stood the form in white, with the dreadful instrument now dripping blood still in his hands. Yet neither of us moved until, with a strange gesture, it spoke thus: ‘Oh, Mr. Herbert, sir; please, sir; indeed, sir; I’m awful sorry, sir, that I used this, sir, but them other knives ain’t a bit sharp, an’ them ’ere suckin’ pigs wants to be dealt with quicklike. An’ please, sir, don’t tell master as ’ow I used this, or ’e’ll be after giving me notice to quit. An’ please, sir, indeed, Mr. Herbert, sir, I’ll never do it agen, sir.’ “The fact of the matter was, that the cook, having to provide sucking pigs for dinner, clandestinely purloined one of the sharpest instruments, in order to overcome, as speedily as possible, the obstacles which lay in the way of pig killing. His white blouse and apron in the dim, uncertain firelight, together with his strange and uncanny conduct, had deluded us into the belief that his appearance was of a supernatural character. “This is my ghost story, and I venture to believe that the majority of those told would, if treated to a similar investigation, prove just as delusive.” And my grandfather, having ended his tale, resumed once more his pipe, and sat laughingly enjoying our somewhat amusing criticism of his story of the cook’s ghost. A KING WHO WANTED FRESH AIR. Not long ago there was terrible excitement at the royal court of Annam. The king, Thanh Tai, who is now fourteen years old, was missing. Etiquette requires that the Annamese king shall never leave the royal grounds. He is a kingly prisoner. But the young potentate was not hard to find. Though he was a king, he was a boy; and it is natural for a boy, when he has some money in his pocket, to want to go out and spend it. That was exactly what the King of Annam had done. Entirely alone, he had started on a “shopping” expedition through the streets of Hue. Of course, no one knew him, because he had never shown his face in public. He was simply a boy, like any boy; and this was exactly what he wanted.