When the mind is thus prepared, the most familiar objects are transformed into phantoms. Ellis relates an anecdote of this kind, which he heard from an eye-witness, who was a ship’s captain of Newcastle-on-Tyne. During a voyage that he made, the ship’s cook died. Some days after the funeral, the chief mate came running to him in a great fright, with the news that the ship’s cook was walking on the water, astern of the vessel, and that all the crew were on deck looking at him. The captain, who was angry at being disturbed with so nonsensical a tale, answered sharply, that they had better put the ship about and race the ghost to Newcastle. His curiosity, however, was presently aroused, and he went upon deck and looked at the spectre. He frankly avowed that for some moments he saw what really appeared to be his old shipmate, just as he knew him in life, with his walk, clothes, cap and figure perfectly resembling those of the dead man. The panic became general, and every one was struck motionless for a time. He had the presence of mind, however, to seize the helm and put the ship about, when as they neared the ghost, they found the absurd cause of their fright was a broken mast from some wreck, which was floating after them in an upright position. If the captain had not boldly sailed up to the supposed ghost, the story of the dead cook walking upon the water would have continued to this day to terrify half the good inhabitants of Newcastle. Such facts as these are innumerable, and we shall mention a few more which will explain a host of stories found in various ancient and modern authors. Ajax was so angry at the arms of Achilles being awarded to Ulysses, that he became furious, and, seeing a herd of pigs, drew his sword and fell upon them, taking them for Greeks. He next seized a couple of them and beat them cruelly, loading them at the same time with insults, imagining one of them to be Agamemnon, his judge, and the other Ulysses, his enemy. When he came to himself, he was so ashamed at what he had done, that he stabbed himself with his sword. Theodoric, blinded by jealousy and yielding to the base solicitations of his courtiers, ordered that Symmachus, one of the most upright men of his time, should be put to death. The cruel order had hardly been executed, when the king was seized with remorse, and bitterly reproached himself with his crime. One day a new kind of fish was put upon the table, when the king suddenly cried out that he saw in the head of the fish the absolute resemblance of that of his victim. This vision had the effect of plunging the king into a state of melancholy that lasted his whole life.