bright　and　dark　tenanted　my　mind：　the　memories　of　nursery　stories　were　there　amongst　other　rubbish；　and　when　they　recurred；　maturing　youth　added　to　them　a　vigour　and　vividness　beyond　what　childhood　could　give。　As　this　horse　approached；　and　as　I　watched　for　it　to　appear　through　the　dusk；　I　remembered　certain　of　Bessie’s　tales；　wherein　figured　a　North…of…England　spirit　called　a　“Gytrash；”　which；　in　the　form　of　horse；　mule；　or　large　dog；　haunted　solitary　ways；　and　sometimes　came　upon　belated　travellers；　as　this　horse　was　now　ing　upon　me。

It　was　very　near；　but　not　yet　in　sight；　when；　in　addition　to　the　tramp；　tramp；　I　heard　a　rush　under　the　hedge；　and　close　down　by　the　hazel　stems　glided　a　great　dog；　whose　black　and　white　colour　made　him　a　distinct　object　against　the　trees。　It　was　exactly　one　form　of　Bessie’s　Gytrash—a　lion…like　creature　with　long　hair　and　a　huge　head：　it　passed　me；　however；　quietly　enough；　not　staying　to　look　up；　with　strange　pretercanine　eyes；　in　my　face；　as　I　half　expected　it　would。　The　horse　followed；—a　tall　steed；　and　on　its　back　a　rider。　The　man；　the　human　being；　broke　the　spell　at　once。　Nothing　ever　rode　the　Gytrash：　it　was　always　alone；　and　goblins；　to　my　notions；　though　they　might　tenant　the　dumb　carcasses　of　beasts；　could　scarce　covet　shelter　in　the　monplace　human　form。　No　Gytrash　was　this；—only　a　traveller　taking　the　short　cut　to　Millcote。　He　passed；　and　I　went　on；　a　few　steps；　and　I　turned：　a　sliding　sound　and　an　exclamation　of　“What　the　deuce　is　to　do　now？”　and　a　clattering　tumble；　arrested　my　attention。　Man　and　horse　were　down；　they　had　slipped　on　the　sheet　of　ice　which　glazed　the　causeway。　The　dog　came　bounding　back；　and　seeing　his　master　in　a　predicament；　and　hearing　the　horse　groan；　barked　till　the　evening　hills　echoed　the　sound；　whi