Precautions like those of the Togo are taken by widows in Loango. All the openings in a widow’s hut are closed, and a spell is laid on every place where the ghost might harbour. But that is not enough. What she fears is that her deceased husband, or some other disembodied spirit greedy of her society, will visit her by night. That would result either in her death, or in her bringing some fearful monster into the world. So the medicine-men prepare for her, according to the rules of their art, a piece of wood wherewith to fasten the door by way of bar or bolt; or they give her a fringed cord to stretch behind, and another to stretch round, her bed, both of them of course enchanted. More than this, the door of the hut is changed to another side, further to mystify the unwelcome _revenant_. If she be very nervous they lead her in the darkness by a roundabout way to another hut, carefully erasing her footsteps, unless they carry her or make her wear shoes that will render the traces unrecognizable. Besides that, they furnish her with a magical staff to embrace when she goes to sleep. Sometimes at least it is carried in daylight also. One would think such precautions would daunt the most evil-designing ghost. If any ghost, however, were so obdurate, or so conceited of his {213} power to break down these defences, as to persist, he would find they were mere outworks, and that there were stronger and more effectual lines behind. The witch-doctors are not easily beaten--provided they have a client who is willing and able to pay the enhanced cost of their services. Without going into all the details of what is in effect a war to the bitter end against the intrusive ghost, it may be said generally that they will give him no rest; they will beat the dwelling inside and outside with their conjuring implements; they will sweep the courtyard clear; they will leave no corner where the poor wretch can skulk; they will lay spells; they will hunt him through the village with beating, with sweeping, with fire, with the discharge of guns; they will rouse the whole population to their assistance; they will lay bombs laden with magical virtue; they will stretch magical cords across every path leading to the village. If, in spite of all these boisterous proceedings, the ghost be so hardy or so clever as to continue haunting the place, there will be nothing for it but to remove the village, or to catch the supernatural enemy and to shoot him dead beyond resurrection. But this is obviously an extreme measure, to which it is seldom necessary to resort, and which can only be undertaken by a specialist of the first rank and at a corresponding cost. The ghosts of deceased men are, in Loango, scarcely more to be dreaded than those of women dead in childbed, or of marriageable girls. The former are especially dreaded by pregnant women and married men, for their vengeful malice. The latter attack married men in their