* * * * *

For those who like to know “what became of” everybody, these facts are added: 

The young gentlemen got safely home; and Master Arthur gave such a comical account of their adventure, that the Rector laughed too much to scold them, even if he had wished.

Beauty Bill went up and down Yew-lane on many a moonlight night after this one, but he never saw another ghost, or felt any more fears in connection with Ephraim Garnett.  To make matters more entirely comfortable, however, John kindly took to the custom of walking home with the lad after night-school was ended.  In return for this attention, Bill’s family were apt to ask him in for an hour; and by their fire-side he told the story of the two ghosts so often—­from the manufacture in the Rectory barn to the final apparition at the cross-roads—­that the whole family declare they feel just as if they had seen it.

Bessy, under the hands of the cheerful doctor, got quite well, and eventually married.  As her cottage boasts the finest window plants in the village, it is shrewdly surmised that her husband is a gardener.

Bully Tom talked very loudly for some time of “having the law of” the rival ghost; but finding, perhaps, that the story did not redound to his credit, was unwilling to give it further publicity, and changed his mind.

Winter and summer, day and night, sunshine and moonlight, have passed over the lane and the churchyard, and the wind has had many a ghostly howl among the yews, since poor Bill learnt the story of the murder; but he knows now that the true Ephraim Garnett has never been seen on the cross-roads since a hundred years ago, and will not be till the Great Day.

In the ditch by the side of Yew-lane shortly after the events I have been describing, a little lad found a large turnip, in which someone had cut eyes, nose, and mouth, and put bits of stick for teeth.  The turnip was hollow, and inside it was fixed a bit of wax candle.  He lighted it up, and the effect was so splendid, that he made a show of it to his companions at the price of a marble each, who were well satisfied.  And this was the last of the Yew-lane Ghosts.

A BAD HABIT.

CHAPTER I.

    “Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
    By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! 
    The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
    For that sweet odour which doth in it live.”

    SHAKESPEARE.

My godmother, Lady Elizabeth, used to say, “Most things are matters of habit.  Good habits and bad habits.”  And she generally added, “Your bad habit, Selina, is a habit of grumbling.”