’Well, you people have an extraordinary manner of arranging your furniture!  I have nearly broken my bones over one of the bedroom chairs which was turned down on the floor.’  As my husband and I had restored that chair twice already to its proper position during the day, we were not much surprised at his remarks, although we did not enlighten him.  The whole family have been disturbed by a peculiar knocking which occurred in various rooms in the house, frequently on the door or wall, but sometimes on the furniture, quite close to where we had been sitting.  This was evidently loud enough to be heard in the next house, for our next-door neighbour once asked my husband why he selected such curious hours for hanging his pictures.  Another strange and fairly frequent occurrence was the following.  I had got a set of skunk furs which I fancied had an unpleasant odour, as this fur sometimes has; and at night I used to take it from my wardrobe and lay it on a chair in the drawing-room, which was next my bedroom.  The first time that I did this, on going to the drawing-room I found, to my surprise, my muff in one corner and my stole in another.  Not for a moment suspecting a supernatural agent, I asked my servant about it, and she assured me that she had not been in the room that morning.  Whereupon I determined to test the matter, which I did by putting in the furs late at night, and taking care that I was the first to enter the room in the morning.  I invariably found that they had been disturbed.”

The following strange and pathetic incident occurred in a well-known Square in the north side of the city.  In or about a hundred years ago a young officer was ordered to Dublin, and took a house there for himself and his family.  He sent on his wife and two children, intending to join them in the course of a few days.  When the latter and the nurse arrived, they found only the old charwoman in the house, and she left shortly after their arrival.  Finding that something was needed, the nurse went out to purchase it.  On her return she asked the mother were the children all right, as she had seen two ghostly forms flit past her on the door-step!  The mother answered that she believed they were, but on going up to the nursery they found both the children with their throats cut.  The murderer was never brought to justice, and no motive was ever discovered for the crime.  The unfortunate mother went mad, and it is said that an eerie feeling still clings to the house, while two little heads are sometimes seen at the window of the room where the deed was committed.

A most weird experience fell to the lot of Major Macgregor, and was contributed by him to Real Ghost Stories, the celebrated Christmas number of the Review of Reviews.  He says:  “In the end of 1871 I went over to Ireland to visit a relative living in a Square in the north side of Dublin.  In January 1872 the husband of my relative fell ill.  I sat up with him for several nights, and at last, as he