A haunted castle.

The account of the fact that follows was sent to us by one of our correspondents from Saint Petersburg.

An old Hungarian general, very well known for his courage, received a large inheritance, tendered his resignation, and wrote to his steward to buy for him a property that was for sale and which he designated to him.

The steward answers immediately, advising the general not to buy the said property, for it was haunted by the Spirits.

The old brave man insists, saying that it was one more reason to make the purchase, and ordering him to make it immediately.

The property is then bought and the new owner sets out on his way to install himself there. He arrives at eleven o'clock at night at the house of his steward, not far from the castle, to which he wishes to go immediately. — Please, the old servant says to him, wait until tomorrow morning and do me the honor of spending the night in my house. — No, says the master, I want to spend it in my castle. The steward is then obliged to accompany him with several peasants, carrying torches; but they do not want to enter and they withdraw, leaving the new lord alone. This one had with him an old soldier, who had never left him, and an enormous dog, capable of strangling a man with a single blow.

The old general installs himself in the library of the castle, has candles lit, places a pair of pistols on the table, takes up a book, and stretches out on a settee awaiting the phantoms, because he is certain that, if there really are any in the castle, they are not dead, but very much alive. It was also for this reason that he had loaded the pistols and had his dog lie down beneath the settee. As for the old soldier, he was already snoring in a room adjoining the library. Little time passes; the general thinks he hears a noise in the drawing room, listens attentively, and the noise redoubles. Sure of himself, he takes a candle in one hand and the pistol in the other and enters the drawing room, where he sees no one; he searches everywhere, even lifting the curtains: there is nothing, absolutely nothing. Then he returns to the library, takes up the book again, and, scarcely had he read a few lines, the noise makes itself heard with much more force than the first time. He takes up the candle and the pistol again, enters the drawing room once more, and sees that the drawer of a chest of drawers had been opened. Convinced this time that it was thieves, but seeing no one, he calls his dog and says to it: Search! The dog begins to tremble in all its limbs and goes back to hide beneath the settee. The general himself begins to tremble, enters the library, lies down on the settee but cannot close his eyes the whole night. Recounting the fact to us, the general told us: “I have been afraid only twice: on the field of battle, eighteen years ago, when a bomb burst at my feet; and, afterward, when I saw fear take hold of my dog. We shall abstain from any commentary on the very authentic fact related above, and we shall content ourselves with asking the adversaries of Spiritism how the nervous system of the dog was shaken.

We shall ask, furthermore, how the nervous overexcitation of a medium, however strong it may be, can produce direct writing, that is, can force a pencil to write by itself.

Another question: We believe that the nervous fluid retained and concentrated in a recipient could equal and even surpass the force of steam; but, the said fluid being free, could it lift and displace heavy pieces of furniture, as so often happens?

Ch. Péreyra.