of the old Church of St Andrew
began striking also.

"I knew that both were striking twelve, though I did not count the
blows, but just as the last stroke of the church clock died away,
another sound caught my ear.

"The door by the fireplace gave a loud crack and then opened, as if with
some difficulty.

"The _red door_ at the same time rattled, as if someone were trying
vainly to open it. The room had previously been dark, but I now plainly
saw a tall figure come through the doorway and stand near the foot of
the bed. There was a dull, yellowish light round the figure, which
illumined it, leaving the rest of the room in darkness; but this yellow
light, I perceived, became red at one point of the figure's left side,
and shone down on the floor with a red glow, like that which came
through the opposite door.

"The apparition stood quite silent whilst I looked at it. _The features
and figure were familiar to me_ for they were those of Captain Richard
Carbury, in the portrait, who had gone out to Georgia with the regiment
of His Excellency, General Oglethorpe!

"As soon as I was sure of this, I said: 'You are Captain Richard
Carbury?'

"The apparition nodded.

"'Why do you come to me?' I said. 'Cannot you speak?'

"He seemed to have some difficulty in doing so, but after two or three
efforts, such as one makes to move a rusty hinge, he parted his lips,
and said: 'Yes! I am Richard Carbury, and I am come to make you a
witness.'

"'A witness of what?' I said. 'Can I be of use to you? You come from the
spirit world. Is it then permitted to mortals to have personal
intercourse with spirits?'

"He held up his hand as if to silence me.

"'Listen to me,' he said. 'You are not frightened of me?'

"'No,' I replied; nor did I feel the slightest awe or fear. I felt
stimulated, a kind of electricity ran through my veins--I longed
earnestly to learn something of the mysterious realm from which he
came, but I had no vulgar or superstitious fear.

"'Nor need you have any dread,' he returned. 'I have no wish nor power
to hurt you, but you must listen to my story. Once in fifty years I am
allowed to leave my grave and revisit the scene of my tragical death,
and this must always be on the 14th of April, which is the anniversary
of the event.[4] I am also permitted to recount my story if I find
anyone sleeping in this room who is willing to listen to me. Are you
willing?'

[4] There is evidently some mistake here in th