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No native ghost has yet been authentically reported to have frightened an Englishman; but many English ghosts have scared the life out of both white and black. A ghost that would voluntarily grasp about a dâk-bungalow could be mad in fact; but so many males have died mad in dâk-bungalows, that there should be a fair share of lunatic ghosts. There are also terrible ghosts of women who have died in baby-mattress. The third shift was to Calcutta, and there the Sahib died while driving a dog-cart. They're usually very previous, always dirty, whereas the butler is as historic as the bungalow. These and the corpse ghosts, however, are only vernacular articles and don't assault Sahibs. It's possible you'll treat anything, from a Viceroy to a Vernacular Paper, with levity; but you will need to behave reverently toward a ghost, and significantly an Indian one. Their ft are turned backward that all sober males could acknowledge them. In these dâk-bungalows, ghosts are most likely to be discovered, and when found, they ought to be made a note of. Seeing that a fair proportion of the tragedy of our lives in India acted itself in dâk-bungalows, I wondered that I had met no ghosts.

Some reading was done; and much smoking and sewing, though not by the same parties; there were the monsters of the deep to be regarded after and wondered at; unusual ships needed to be scrutinized by way of opera-glasses, and sage decisions arrived at regarding them; and greater than that, each body took a private interest in seeing that the flag was run up and politely dipped thrice in response to the salutes of those strangers; within the smoking-room there have been all the time events of gentlemen taking part in euchre, draughts and dominoes, particularly dominoes, that delightfully harmless recreation; and down on the primary deck, "for’rard"-for’rard of the rooster-coops and the cattle-we had what was referred to as "horse-billiards." Horse-billiards is a fine sport. A funeral isn't an thrilling or significantly nice occupation, however there are many funerals where a useless silence is not more cultivated than at some golf matches; and it is silly and useless to fly right into a ardour because anyone thirty or forty yards off who just isn't playing golf in any respect, or at any fee has nothing to do with you, talks or laughs so that you could hear him. There are said to be two at Simla, not counting the woman who blows the bellows at Syree dâk-bungalow on the Old Road; Mussoorie has a house haunted of a really lively Thing; a White Lady is speculated to do night-watchman spherical a home in Lahore; Dalhousie says that one of her houses "repeats" on autumn evenings all the incidents of a horrible horse-and-precipice accident; Murree has a merry ghost, and now that she has been swept by cholera, could have room for some sorrowful ones; there are Officers' Quarters in Mian Mir whose doorways open without purpose, and whose furnishings is assured to creak, not with the heat of June but with the weight of Invisibles who come to lounge in the chairs; Peshawar possesses houses that none will willingly rent; and there is one thing-not fever-incorrect with a big bungalow in Allahabad.

Somewhere in England where there are books and footage and plays and store home windows to have a look at, and thousands of males who spend their lives in constructing up all four, lives a gentleman who writes real stories about the true insides of people; and his name is Mr. Walter Besant. It was my good luck to fulfill all sorts of men, from sober-travelling missionaries and deserters flying from British Regiments, to drunken loafers who threw whiskey bottles at all who handed; and my still greater good fortune simply to flee a maternity case. The hideous feeling of discomfort that comes over a participant when he has topped his ball and made a deep hole in it, the horrible persistency with which ball after ball is sliced, the missing of 1 or two actually brief putts, the dangerous luck that attends him when placing very well, the best way the hole is missed by a tenth of an inch, the frequent dangerous lies-all these combine to make life a burden.

Caudle, it is throughout now; you've got gone to destruction. He either cuts it too fantastic and may be very quick within the try to put it useless, or else, frightened of the bunker that lies so dangerously close to to him, he determines to get over in any respect risks and overruns the green by forty or fifty yards. But on this case the placing of both these distinguished players was by no means "up"; they failed where almost each participant who's "off" his putting fails; they have been quick. The enterprise of offering sympathy had been lowered to a system by the civilisation which these ladies helped to keep up; and, as it happened, there was one present who was acquainted with this system. There are ghosts of little kids who've been thrown into wells. In due time I found my ghost, or ghosts rather, for there have been two of them. There are, on this land, ghosts who take the type of fats, cold, pobby corpses, and conceal in timber close to the roadside until a traveller passes. There are smoking-rooms for many who smoke, billiard-rooms for many who play billiards, and a card-room for many who play playing cards.