e, I shut it off when
we were running down upon him, and called to him as loud as I could
call."

"What did you say?"

"I said, Below there! Look out! Look out! For God's sake, clear
the way!"

I started.

"Ah! it was a dreadful time, sir. I never left off calling to him.
I put this arm before my eyes, not to see, and I waved this arm
to the last; but it was no use."

Without prolonging the narrative to dwell on any one of its curious
circumstances more than on any other, I may, in closing it, point
out the coincidence that the warning of the Engine-Driver included,
not only the words which the unfortunate signal-man had repeated to
me as haunting him, but also the words which I myself--not he--had
attached, and that only in my own mind, to the gesticulation he
had imitated.

THE HAUNTED SHIPS.

BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

Along the sea of Solway, romantic on the Scottish side, with its
woodlands, its bays, its cliffs, and headlands,--and interesting on
the English side, with its many beautiful towns with their shadows
on the water, rich pastures, safe harbors, and numerous ships,--there
still linger many traditional stories of a maritime nature, most of
them connected with superstitions singularly wild and unusual. To
the curious these tales afford a rich fund of entertainment, from
the many diversities of the same story; some dry and barren, and
stripped of all the embellishments of poetry; others dressed out in
all the riches of a superstitious belief and haunted imagination. In
this they resemble the inland traditions of the peasants; but many
of the oral treasures of the Galwegian or the Cumbrian coast have
the stamp of the Dane and the Norseman upon them, and claim but a
remote or faint affinity with the legitimate legends of Caledonia.
Something like a rude prosaic outline of several of the most noted
of the Northern ballads, the adventures and depredations of the
old ocean kings, still lends life to the evening tale; and among
others, the story of the Haunted Ships is still popular among the
maritime peasantry.

One fine harvest evening I went on board the shallop of Richard
Faulder, of Allanbay; and, committing ourselves to the waters,
we allowed a gentle wind from the east to waft us at its pleasure
toward the Scottish coast. We passed the sharp promontory of Siddick;
and skirting the land within a stone-cast, glided along the shore
till we came within sight of the ruined Abbey of Sweetheart