hy anybody should. Haralal is not a man who would
tell yarns, and then I have made enquiries at Haralal's village where
several persons know this much; that his dead wife pays him a visit
twice every week.

Now that Haralal is 500 miles from his village home I do not know how
things stand; but I am told that this story reached the ears of the
_Bara Saheb_ and he asked Haralal if he would object to a transfer and
Haralal told him that he would not.

I shall leave the reader to draw his own conclusions.

THE BOY WHO WAS CAUGHT.

Nothing is more common in India than seeing a ghost. Every one of us has
seen ghost at some period of his existence; and if we have not actually
seen one, some other person has, and has given us such a vivid
description that we cannot but believe to be true what we hear.

This is, however, my own experience. I am told others have observed the
phenomenon before.

* * * * *

When we were boys at school we used, among other things, to discuss
ghosts. Most of my fellow students asserted that they did not believe in
ghosts, but I was one of those who not only believed in their existence
but also in their power to do harm to human beings if they liked. Of
course, I was in the minority. As a matter of fact I knew that all those
who said that they did not believe in ghosts told a lie. They believed
in ghosts as much as I did, only they had not the courage to admit their
weakness and differ boldly from the sceptics. Among the lot of
unbelievers was one Ram Lal, a student of the Fifth Standard, who swore
that he did not believe in ghosts and further that he would do anything
to convince us that they did not exist.

It was, therefore, at my suggestion that he decided to go one moon-light
night and hammer down a wooden peg into the soft sandy soil of the
Hindoo Burning Ghat, it being well known that the ghosts generally put
in a visible appearance at a burning ghat on a moon-light night. (A
burning ghat is the place where dead bodies of Hindoos are cremated).

It was the warm month of April and the river had shrunk into the size of
a nullah or drain. The real pukka ghat (the bathing place, built of
bricks and lime) was about 200 yards from the water of the main stream,
with a stretch of sand between.

The ghats are only used in the morning when people come to bathe, and in
the evening they are all deserted. After a game of football on the
school grounds we so