Again the party abandoned the quest, returned to their fireside, but could not rest content. “With a heroic determination of will, I declared that I would again go in search of the causes and not return until the secret had been found out. The lights were held by those who remained indoors at the upstairs windows. Two of us approached through the side yard the place of mystery. Step by step we advanced, stopping at intervals to listen. We could see nothing, but the noises we heard were unmistakable. There could be no deception as to their reality. Step by step, we drew nearer, peering in the meanwhile into the dark shadows beneath the Wistaria. The nearer we came to the arbour, the greater was the sense of mystery which possessed us. The noises were weird and inexplicable. As we came near, a discovery was made which excited us still more. After the explosion of the shells, white sabers seemed to fall upon the ground. Were the ghosts in battle? What could it all mean? “Loyal to the heroic determination to go straight to the seat of the trouble, I walked beneath the Wistaria arbour feeling an atmosphere charged with electricity as I went. We stood side by side looking about and waiting, when suddenly a Fuji pod exploded before our eyes. The seeds flew in different directions and the divided halves of the pod fell to the ground and lay like sabers dropped in the attack of battle. When the discovery was made, one of us called out to the upstairs window that it was the explosion of the Wistaria pods that caused the noises. There was a general laugh and the ghosts disappeared. Not affected by rain or darkness, by heat or cold, by human foot-steps or voice, there is one thing ghosts cannot endure; to be laughed at literally slays them.” In the Middle Ages, the Mandrake was a magical plant which was reputed to shine like a candle at night and thrive particularly well near the gallows. When pulled from the earth, it uttered uncanny shrieks, and according to Shakespeare “living mortals hearing them ran mad.” Two centuries ago it was believed that every plant, as well as every human being, was under the influence of some particular planet. The plants over which Saturn claimed an ascendency were characterized by ill-favoured leaves, ugly flowers and repellent odours. On the other hand the plants of Jupiter displayed smooth leaves and graceful, fragrant flowers. Today we believe that all plants belong to only one planet, and that is the planet earth. In the minds of agricultural folk, the moon has always had great influence over vegetation. There are many rules still extant regarding the proper time of that satellite’s phases in which to plant, reap and perform a hundred other rustic acts. A medieval superstition stated that when the moon was on the increase it imparted healing and medicinal qualities to all herbs. During its decline, the same plants generated poisons.