And he climbed the lofty ladder, 

 As it were a path to heaven. 

 Then came a flash from out the cloud, 

 And a stunning thunder's roll, 

 And no man dared to look aloft, 

 Fear was on every soul. 

 There was another heavy sound, 

 A hush!—and then—a groan, 

 And darkness swept across the sky,— 

 The work of death was done! 

  

  

  A GHOST STORY, FOR THE YOUNG.  

 My Dear Charles— 

 When I promised to write to you during the holidays, I little thought I should have so much to put in my letter. I actually fancied it would be difficult to find enough to fill one sheet; and now I do really believe two will not be sufficient for all I have to say: but to commence my story, which you must know, is a real Ghost Story! But to begin:— 

 While we were at breakfast the other morning, papa showed mamma an advertisement in the "Times" newspaper, remarking, at the same time, that it appeared just the thing he had long wanted; and that he would go to the Solicitor's and make enquiries, and if it seemed still eligible, would go immediately and see about it. Upon asking what it was; 

 I was told it was an estate in South Wales to be disposed of; on which was a large commodious dwelling house, which at a trifling expence, might be converted into a family mansion. It commanded, the paper said, a picturesque view, with plenty of shooting and fishing.—It further stated, that on one part 

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