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‘Swing, swang, swingle, swuff,
Flicker, flacker, fling, fluff!
Thus we go,
To and fro;
Here and there,
Everywhere,
Born and bred;
Never dead,
Only gone.

‘On! Come on.
Looming, glooming,
Spreading, fuming,
Shattering, scattering,
Parting, darting,
Settling, starting,
All our life
Is a strife,
And a wearying for rest
On the darkness’ friendly breast.

‘Joining, splitting,
Rising, sitting,
Laughing, shaking,
Sides all aching,
Grumbling, grim, and gruff.
Swingle, swangle, swuff!

‘Now a knot of darkness;
Now dissolved gloom;
Now a pall of blackness
Hiding all the room.
Flicker, flacker, fluff!
Black, and black enough!

‘Dancing now like demons;
Lying like the dead;
Gladly would we stop it,
And go down to bed!
But our work we still must do,
Shadow men, as well as you.

‘Rooting, rising, shooting,
Heaving, sinking, creeping;
Hid in corners crooning;
Splitting, poking, leaping,
Gathering, towering, swooning.
When we’re lurking,
Yet we’re working,
For our labour we must do,
Shadow men, as well as you.
Flicker, flacker, fling, fluff!
Swing, swang, swingle, swuff!’

“‘How thick the Shadows are!’ said one of the children–a thoughtful little girl.

“‘I wonder where they come from,’ said a dreamy little boy.

“‘I think they grow out of the wall,’ answered the little girl; ‘for I have been watching them come; first one and then another, and then a whole lot of them. I am sure they grow out of the walls.’

“‘Perhaps they have papas and mammas,’ said an older boy, with a smile.

“‘Yes, yes; and the doctor brings them in his pocket,’ said another, a consequential little maiden.

“‘No; I’ll tell you,’ said the older boy: ‘they’re ghosts.’

“‘But ghosts are white.’

“‘Oh! but these have got black coming down the chimney.’

“‘No,’ said a curious-looking, white-faced boy of fourteen, who had been reading by the firelight, and had stopped to hear the little ones talk; ‘they’re body ghosts; they’re not soul ghosts.’

“‘A silence followed, broken by the first, the dreamy-eyed boy, who said,–

“‘I hope they didn’t make me;’ at which they all burst out laughing. Just then the nurse brought in their tea, and when she proceeded to light the gas, we vanished.”

“I stopped a murder,” cried another.

“How? How? How?”

“I will tell you. I had been lurking about a sick-room for some time, where a miser lay, apparently dying. I did not like the place at all, but I felt as if I should be wanted there. There were plenty of lurking-places about, for the room was full of all sorts of old furniture, especially cabinets, chests, and presses. I believe he had in that room every bit of the property he had spent a long life in gathering. I found that he had gold and gold in those places; for one night, when his nurse was away, he crept out of bed, mumbling and shaking, and managed to open one of his chests, though he nearly fell down with the effort. I was peeping over his shoulder, and such a gleam of gold fell upon me, that it nearly killed me. But hearing his nurse coming, he slammed the lid down, and I recovered.

“I tried very hard, but I could not do him any good. For although I made all sorts of shapes on the walls and ceiling, representing evil deeds that he had done, of which there were plenty to choose from, I could make no shapes on his brain or conscience. He had no eyes for anything but gold. And it so happened that his nurse had neither eyes nor heart for anything else either.

“‘One day, as she was seated beside his bed, but where he could not see her, stirring some gruel in a basin, to cool it from him, I saw her take a little phial from her bosom, and I knew by the expression of her face both what it was and what she was going to do with it. Fortunately the cork was a little hard to get out, and this gave me one moment to think.