Nine Ghosts

The story which follows was told to me rather more than thirty years ago.
The narrator was elderly then. He died very soon after the end of the
last war with Germany, so there can be no harm in repeating it now. His
name, if you want to know, was Arthur Harberton. As he was a young man
when it happened to him I suppose it must be dated not long after the
year 1870. I made notes of it at the time, and reproduce it now as nearly
as I can in his own words.

'Three years after my ordination I was offered a post as a college
lecturer at Cambridge. That was the kind of work which I had always
thought that I should like, at any rate for a few years, so I accepted
the offer very gladly. I have never regretted that I did so; nor that I
did not devote the rest of my life to academic work.

'I was not dean of the college, and as in those days the number of
Fellows in Holy Order was much larger than it is now it was very seldom
necessary for me to be in the Chapel on a Sunday. Accordingly I used to
go about the diocese a good deal, visiting the country churches. I don't
think that I was under any illusion as to my powers as a preacher, even
then. But I thought, without, I hope, undue vanity, that it might be good
for village congregations to hear a fresh voice occasionally, and even
for the incumbent if he were present. That was not always the case, for I
was always willing to take the whole duty of the day if I were asked, so
that the incumbent might secure a short holiday.

'As a rule I enjoyed these expeditions thoroughly. They began with a
short train journey, followed by a drive from the station, sometimes of
as much as ten miles. Country lanes were country lanes then. They had not
been blackened with tar macadam and motor-cars were, of course, unknown.
An occasional traction engine, preceded by a man on foot carrying a red
flag, was the only disagreeable object likely to be encountered. From a
dog-cart, which was usually the vehicle which came to meet me, it was
possible to see over the hedges and to get a very fair idea of the
country as you went along at eight to ten miles an hour.

'My hosts were generally interesting. For the most part they were
country-bred men who belonged naturally to their surroundings. Many of
them had a wide variety of interests (and sometimes a store of real
knowledge) on which they were ready to discourse to a stranger. When I
had the house to myself, it was amusing to try to deduce what manner of
man the owner might be from his books and pictures.

'Most of the churches and a good many of the houses presented features of
architectural interest, which appealed to me strongly. Besides, I used to
enjoy such conversations as I might have with rural churchwardens,
sextons and other parish officials. I remember one churchwarden (a
farmer, I think) who had heard that Huntingdon was a fine town.
Personally he had never penetrated farther than St. Neots. When I told
him that I lived at Cambridge I might as well have said Pekin, or
Timbuctoo.

'In another place the village school-master was opposed to elementary
education in the abstract: not merely to the particular form of it which
he was required to administer. He thought it unsettled children and took
them off the land. There was, no doubt, something to be said on behalf of
his views; but I couldn't help wondering whether he were _quite_ the right
man in the right place. Well--no doubt the countryside is more
sophisticated now, and I won't bore you with speculations as to whether
the gains outweigh the losses or not.

'So, as you see, I had good reason to look forward to these excursions.
In fact, I only once got to a place which I should not care to visit
again, and that is the one which I am going to tell you about now. All
the same, I don't entirely regret that I did go there. Anyhow, it was a
unique experience.