OXFORD UNIVERSITY QUEEN'S
COLLEGE.

LIKE most of the older foundations of Alma Mater, Queen's College has had its ghost. The Rev. Mr. More of Leyton, Essex, formerly of Queen's, Oxford, a man of veracity and learning, who died in 1778, left this story of an apparition that favoured his own college with a visit.

Mr. John Bonnell was a commoner of Queen's College, Oxford. He was remarkable in his person and gait, and, from a peculiar manner he had of holding up his gown behind, might be recognised almost as readily by his back as by his face.

"On Sunday, November the 18th, 1750, at noon, Mr. Ballard, who was then of Magdalen College, and myself," says Mr. More, "were talking together at Parker's door. I was then waiting for the sound of the trumpet for dinner, and suddenly Mr. Ballard cried out, 'Dear me, who is that coming out of your college?' I looked, and saw, as I supposed, Mr. Bonnell, and replied, He is a gentleman of our house, and his name is Bonnell; he comes from Stanton Harcourt.' 'Why, bless me,' said Mr. Ballard, 'I never saw such a face in all my life.' I answered slightly, 'His face is much the same as it always is; I think it is a little more inflamed and swelled than it is sometimes, perhaps he has buckled his band too tight, but I should not have

observed it if you had not spoken.' 'Well,' said Mr. Ballard again, 'I never shall forget him, as long as I live'; and appeared to be much disconcerted and frightened.

"This figure I saw without any emotion or suspicion," proceeds Mr. More; "it came down the quadrangle, came out at the gate, and walked up the High Street. We followed it with our eyes till it came to Catherine Street, where it was lost.

"The trumpet then sounded, and Mr. Ballard and I parted; and I went into the hall, and thought no more of Mr. Bonnell.

"In the evening the prayers of the chapel were desired for one who was in a very sick and dangerous condition. When I came out of the chapel, I inquired of one of the scholars, James Harrison, in the hearing of several others who were standing before the kitchen fire, who it was that was prayed for, and was answered, 'Mr. Bonnell, senior.' 'Bonnell senior!' said I, with astonishment; what is the matter with him? He was

very well to-day, for I saw him go out to dinner.' 'You are very much mistaken,' answered Harrison, for he has not been out of his bed for some days.' I then asserted more positively that I had seen him, and that a gentleman was with me who saw him too.

"This came presently to the ears of Dr. Fothergill, who had been my tutor. After supper he took me aside, and questioned me about it, and said he was very sorry I had mentioned the matter so publicly, for Mr. Bonnell was dangerously ill. I replied I was very sorry too,

but I had done it innocently. The next day Mr. Bonnell died."

Mr. More states that Mr. Ballard was applied to, and bore witness to the fact that the figure he had so particularly noticed was stated to be Mr. Bonnell, who was of Queen's, and came from Stanton Harcourt. It may, also, be added that when this curious story, found among the Rev. Mr. More's papers at his decease, was published in the Gentleman's Magazine, and other contemporary publications, the particulars were confirmed, in various ways, by persons referred to in the story. As the account of an apparition or wraith of a person on the point of death, seen by more than one individual, it is by no means unique in literary records.

PEELE CASTLE.

In no portion of the British kingdom are legends more rife, and superstitions more tenacious, than in the Isle of Man. Of the various romantic ruins which bedeck the island, and around which tradition has flung its ivy-like tendrils, none are more picturesque or more closely connected with medieval myths than Peele Castle. Among other marvellous stories told of the supernatural beings which haunt its precincts is the following, to be found in the pages of Waldron, whose account of the island

is an inexhaustible mine of Manx legendary and folk lore.

"An apparition, which they call the Manthe Doog, in the shape of a shaggy spaniel, was stated to haunt the Castle in all parts, but particularly the guard-chamber, where the dog would constantly come and lie down by the fire at candle-light. The soldiers lost much of their terror by the frequency of the sight; yet, as they believed it to be an evil spirit, waiting for an opportunity to injure them, that belief kept them so far in order, that they refrained from swearing and discourse in its presence, and none chose to be left alone with such an insidious enemy. Now, as the Manthe Doog used to come out and return by the passage through the church, by which also somebody must go to deliver the keys every night to the Captain, they continued to go together, he whose turn it was to do that duty being accompanied by the next in rotation.

"But one of the soldiers, on a certain night, being much disguised in liquor, would go with the key alone, though it really was not his turn. His comrades in vain endeavoured to dissuade him; he said he wanted the Manthe Doog's company, and he would try whether he were dog or devil; and then, after much profane talk, he snatched up the keys and departed. Some time afterwards a great noise alarmed the soldiers, but none of them would venture to go and see what was the cause. When the adventurer returned, he was struck with horror and speechless, nor could he even make such signs as might give them to understand what had

happened to him, but he died, with distorted features, in violent agony. After this none would go through the passage, which was soon closed up, and the apparition was never more seen in the castle."

"This accident happened about three-score years since," says Waldron, "and I heard it attested by several, but especially by an old soldier, who assured me he had seen it (i.e. the Manthe Doog), oftener than he had then hairs on his head."

PLYMOUTH.

AMONGST the innumerable multitude of buildings which have the reputation of being haunted, it will be noted that by far the larger number are haunted by strange noises and mysterious sounds only, but few of them really attaining to the dignity of being visited by visible beings. Some of the places, however, which have had the character of being disturbed by unusual and unaccountable noises are very interesting from the suggestiveness of these noises: in the following account, for instance, and indeed in many others, the ghostly but invisible visitants appear to be condemned to return to the occupations they followed before they shuffled off the mortal coil, and to resume, after their incorporeal fashion, the labours of their past life.

The mother of the famous premier, George Canning,