IT was a winter's night--an Australian winter's night--in the middle of July, when two wealthy farmers in the district of Penrith, New South Wales, sat over the fire of a public house, which was about a mile distant from their homes. The name of the one was John Fisher, and of the other Edward Smith. Both of these farmers had been transported to the colony, had served their time, bought land, cultivated it, and prospered
eaking sufficiently loud to be heard by both men in the cart. "And, by heaven, it shall be brought to light! Let me mark the spot." And with these words he broke off several boughs from a tree near the rail and placed them opposite to where the spectre remained sitting. Nay, further, he took out his clasp-knife and notched the very part on which the right hand of the spectre rested.
Even after the old man returned to the cart the apparition of Mr. Fisher, exactly as he was in the flesh, was "palpable to the sight" of all three men. They sat gazing at it for full ten minutes, and then drove on in awe and wonderment.
When old David Weir arrived home, his wife, who was delighted to see him so calm and collected, inquired, laughingly, if he had seen the ghost again. "Never mind about that," said the old man. "Here, take the money and lock it up, while I take the horse out of the cart. He is very tired, and no wonder, f