“Here he ran into a torrent of abuse of all Englishmen in general, and in particular.  And I took the opportunity of rolling myself up in my blankets for the night, sleeping all the better for my adventure.

“Now, Mr. Stead, I don’t believe in ghosts, but I was firmly convinced during that run of mine, and can vouch for the accuracy of it, not having heard a word of the Englishman or his white horse before my headlong return to the camp that night.  I shortly hope to be near that bush again, but, like the old Boer, I can say I wouldn’t go into that bush again for all the ivory in the land.

“P.S.—­A few days after we dropped across a troop of elephants without entering the fatal bush, and managed to bag seven, photographs of which I took, and shall be pleased to send for your inspection, if desired.”

There can be very little doubt that the phantom the Afrikander saw was the actual spirit of a dead horse.

Another experience of haunting by the same animal was told me by a Chelsea artist who assured me it was absolutely true.  I append it as nearly as possible in his own words.

Heralds of Death

“It is many years ago,” he began, “since I came into my property, Heatherleigh Hall, near Carlisle, Cumberland.  It was left me by my great-uncle, General Wimpole, whom I had never seen, but who had made me his heir in preference to his other nephews, owing to my reputed likeness to an aunt, to whom he was greatly attached.  Of course I was much envied, and I dare say a good many unkind things were said about me, but I did not care—­Heatherleigh Hall was mine, and I had as much right to it as anyone else.  I came there all alone—­my two brothers, Dick and Hal, the one a soldier and the other a sailor, were both away on foreign service, whilst Beryl, my one and only sister, was staying with her fiance’s family in Bath.  Never shall I forget my first impressions.  Depict the day—­an October afternoon.  The air mellow, the leaves yellow, and the sun a golden red.  Not a trace of clouds or wind anywhere.  Everything serene and still.  A broad highway; a wood; a lodge in the midst of the wood; large iron gates; a broad carriage drive, planted on either side with lofty pines and elms, whose gnarled and forked branches threw grotesque and not altogether pleasing shadows on the pale gravel.

“At the end of the avenue, at least a quarter of a mile long, wide expanses of soft, velvety grass, interspersed at regular intervals with plots of flowers—­dahlias, michaelmas daisies—­no longer in their first bloom—­chrysanthemums, etc.  Beyond the lawn, the house, and beyond that again, and on either side, big, old-fashioned gardens full of fruit—­fruit of all kinds, some, such as grapes and peaches, in monster green-houses, and others—­luscious pears, blenheim oranges, golden pippins, etc.—­in rich profusion in the open, the whole encompassed by a high and solid brick wall, topped with a bed of