Drs. Bradshaw and Hind slept in the building in separate rooms. They heard noises, the cause of which they did not understand, but to which they paid little attention at the time.

Doctors Macarthy and Fox came up. They heard nothing. Dr. Macarthy remained there a month, and during that month he had a severe fever. He went to Bathurst, and returned afterward in company with Dr. Duggan. Both of them were in good health at the time. Neither of them had heard the ghost story. They slept each in an end room (there were three en suite), and Dr. Duggan's servant, a boy of about sixteen, in the centre one.

Dr. Macarthy (from whom I received these particulars) now heard peculiar noises in the night. In the piazza or passage outside there was a table, on which they placed their tea-things after they had done with them. He would hear the cups and saucers clashed together, and the plates, as it seemed to him, dashed forcibly to the ground. Several times he went out in the morning, expecting to find every thing broken; but in no instance had the position of the plates, cups, or saucers been altered in the least. He ascribed these noises to some mischievous fellow who had climbed into the piazza without having been observed by the sentry below.

He also heard noises in the middle room, as if heavy pieces of furniture were being moved about.

And often all night long he would be annoyed with a pattering sound upon the floor all round his bed. He thought at first that these were bats which had fallen on the floor, and which had been unable to rise. But he could never find them in the morning. Then he supposed that they were mice.

One night, instead of going to bed, he kept his candle alight, and sat on a chair, with a stick across his knee, waiting for these mice to come out.

He heard a sound at the farther end of the room. It was like that of a man walking cautiously on tiptoe. The sound came toward him. He strained his eyes, but he could see nothing. Then the footsteps passed before him, close to him, and he could see nothing.

Doctors are essentially materialists. Dr. Macarthy knew that the strangest sights and sounds can spring from a disordered stomach or a checked secretion. But when he mentioned his hallucination to Dr. Duggan, and when Duggan replied that he had been troubled in the same manner, they became perplexed. Still it did not occur to them that these sounds were supernatural. The mind

of man is averse to believe that which it can not grasp. No one seriously describes a phenomenon of this kind if he can account for it in any natural manner.

In the course of conversation, they happened to speak to Savage about it. He replied as if it was a commonplace matter. "Oh, don't you know that the house is haunted?" and related the affair of the sentry.

On returning to their quarters, Dr. Duggan observed that his boy was looking ill. He asked him what was the matter with him. The boy said he did not know, but perhaps sleeping in the open air had made him sick.

On being asked what he meant, the boy replied, with some reluctance, that he had gone to sleep on the flat roof of the house, because a tall man in white used to come and wake him up, so that he could get no rest. This boy I afterward examined myself. He told me that it came and pulled him by the ear, and said, "Wake, wake." When he awoke he could see something white moving off in a manner which he said was not walking, nor running, nor flying, but something different from what he had

ever seen.

I offered to give him five shillings (which to him would be a large sum) if he would sleep there that night, even offering to keep him company. He looked frightened and refused.

room.

Doctors Macarthy and Duggan, after that, slept in the same And now here comes the part of this story which is so extraordinary—which is, I believe, unparalleled among instances of its kind.

These two men, materialists by education, lying broad awake, with a light burning in the room, would both hear those noises, and would call each other's attention to them at the time; the heavy bodies moved in the centre room, the rattling of plates in the piazza, and the light tiptoe footsteps passing between both their beds.

This story will interest children and the vulgar, as all ghoststories do. To them, of course, I have nothing to say. But to those who are studying the science of the spirit-world, I wish to point out the futility of their investigations. Purposeless in themselves-for they can pave the way to no system-they are perilous by reason of their action on the brain. You waste your precious essence of thought, and will, and electricity, that you may touch ethereal rubbish.

A sentry is frightened, a boy's ear is pulled, plates are clashed, furniture moves. This is mysterious, but it is far from being sublime. These glimpses are degrading, disheartening, and would soon prove deleterious. Men would not be likely to lead better or more careful lives if your researches should prove (that which alone they can hope to prove) that futurity has its comic element.

CHAPTER XXXII.

UP THE SENEGAL.

Calomel and Jaundice.-The Senegal.-Cumar the Pilgrim.-The Moors of the Desert.-Up to Podor.-Mohammedan Negro.-Return from the Campaign.On the Var.-Farewell.

IN the Casemanche I had not suffered from malarious fever; but in this agreeable country, if you escape one disease, it is only that you may contract another. By the time that I reached Macarthy's Island I had acquired a rheumatic habit, which has now become second nature.

At Macarthy's Island I suffered from a cold in the head.

At Barraconda this was replaced by a sore throat and a cough. On returning to Macarthy's Island I had yellow jaundice. Colchicum, cough mixture, jalap, and blue pill proving futile, I was indulged with a violent course of calomel. I took eighteen grains of the latter in one day, with no result save those of a disheartening nature. The next I should probably have been offered thirty-six. But I preferred a natural death. So did Mr. Mantell, who had been treated with equally ill success for dysentery.

On arriving at Bathurst, he was prescribed for by a resident of fifty years' experience in the Gambia: three rusty nails made redhot were to be put into a petit-verre of Cognac, which was to be drunk off as hot as possible (without the nails). As we returned to Bathurst on the sixth, and I escaped from it on the eighth, I do not know whether it proved efficacious.

But the remedy which I received from an ancient mulatto lady saved my life, or, at all events, my liver. It was the native remedy for jaundice, and is, I believe, a species of cassia. It grows abundantly in Senegambia. A few slices from its yellow root are put into a jug of cold water. After it has stood a little, the patient drinks whenever he feels thirsty. A few glasses of this infusion conquered the bile, which had resisted a potent mineral, and I felt that I was safe. The yellow tinge gradually departed from my eyes, nails, and skin, and I am now just beginning to recover

from the colchicum, the blue pill, and the eighteen grains of calomel. The French doctors would have given me a tisane de carrottes. But I do not blame my medical attendant. Had he prescribed so simple a remedy, and I had afterward died, he would have been censured for neglect; but when one is treated with mercury, and plenty of it, one's friends have the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that no "effort was spared," and that up till the last moment one was gratuitously given medicine which costs two shillings an ounce. One must legislate, write, and physic down to the level of the mob. If the French doctors dare to prescribe carrot-tea for yellow jaundice, it is because their patients are more enlightened: we won't have faith in any thing that has not a long name; argal, our lives are saved by simplicity in disguise, or we perish by kill or cure calomel.

Having spent a month in the Gambia, I really enjoyed my seavoyage to the Senegal.

This river has a mouth as narrow and insignificant as that of the Gambia is broad and majestic; but in the rainy season it is navigated to a much greater distance by small steamers. Whether such steamers as the "Dover" could pass over the Falls of Barraconda in the rains has yet to be given a fair trial. In that river we appear to have receded rather than progressed; for Marmol, an ancient writer, relates that an effort was made in his time even to blast that ledge of rocks which opposes a barrier to navigation.

The Senegal, having changed hands several times, was finally assigned to the French in 1817. The commencement of this colony was not propitious. The ship which carried the officers and troops to take possession of it was La Méduse, whose shipwreck has become historical.

The city of St. Louis is built on a small island, and is chiefly fortified by its position. It has more than 12,000 inhabitants, and though not equal in size to San Paolo de Loanda, it is in a far more flourishing condition. The barracks, hospitals, and other public buildings would disgrace no city in Europe; and this is the only spot in Western Africa where one can find tailors, hairdressers, confectioners, and a public library.

At one end of the town is a large and elegant mosque, but the civic institution of St. Louis is the market-place. As the tears came into Joachim's eyes when he saw in Angola mountains which reminded him of Switzerland, so watered my mouth at the sight of butchers' stalls-real butchers' stalls-in the open air, like