James Leavey's Corner
Haunted Britain

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by James Leavey, editor, The FOREST Guide to Smoking in London
and The FOREST Guide to Smoking in Scotland

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James Leavey

If the anti-smoking lobby has its way, sighting of smokers will become as rare as the apparitions reputed to haunt many parts of the world, especially Britain - a country steeped in ancient history and strange traditions.

Whether or not I believe that ghosts inhabit the ether, I've not yet heard of one floating around enjoying a final cigarette, cigar or pipe although, to me, this would be a great way to go. And if the smoke was part of the apparition then surely nobody could complain of its so-called harmful effects – unless you were joined by an intolerant anti-smoking spectre.

Most people pack a toothbrush, camera and clean underwear when they're taking a break but it seemed to me that a haunted weekend required something more. The Society of Psychic Research suggested I should also take a thermometer to record any sudden inexplicable drops in temperature (or maybe home in on a smoking spectre), a camera or camcorder, a sketchbook and sharpened pencil (in case the camera fails, and to make notes), commonsense and, something the world's growing army of intolerant ant-smokers seem to have mislaid - an open mind.

According to the Society, there are two ways of approaching ghosts. You can wallow in old folklore and legends and consider whether they actually happened. Or there's the objective, scientific method where you investigate possible manifestations.

I decided to be a lazy investigator.

The idea for the weekend came after a late night viewing of Robert Wise's classic horror film, The Haunting, and the arrival on my doormat of the British Tourist Authority's list of haunted hotels and inns. Gwenda, my wife and a district nurse, seemed the ideal companion in case things went wrong.

Deciding to spend one night in different parts of the heart of England, we set off for the train at Euston, en route to our first destination - Chester.

Friday night

The walled city of Chester has seen more than its fair share of battles, civil strife and historic events so its claim to have more ghosts than any other city in England is hardly surprising.

Built in 1520, Ye Olde King's Head is one of Chester's most famous inns. If it wasn't for the Daresbury Room's (Room 6) 20th century trappings of colour tv, trouser press, hospitality tray and en suite bathroom, the dark, half-timbered walls and ceiling, creaking floorboards and four-poster bed would have transported us back to the 16th century.

It was creepy enough in daylight and it took little persuasion from Gwenda to leave the bedside lamp on all night, and the bed and window curtains undrawn. Outside it was humid, and windless. We settled down for an early night, watching a black and white TV movie, Boris Karloff in Meet the Killer.

At 1am while I slept, Gwenda, recovering from a bad head cold, felt an icy breeze from the wall to the right of our bed and lay awake the rest of night, fretting. We were both awake at 5am to hear a baby cry for about 40 seconds and as suddenly, stop. Later the manager, Meirion Perring, assured us his two-year-old son hadn't woken and there were no other children in the hotel.

Saturday morning

After fortifying ourselves with a full English breakfast, we set off on the Ghost Hunter Trail of Chester, accompanied by Blue Badge guide, Ray Mulligan. He led us to several odd spots, including a haunted Odeon cinema, and a shop in Eastgate Street on the site of an old coaching inn known as 'The Green Dragon,' now occupied by Thornton's Chocolates and Chester's liveliest ghost.

An exorcism in 1965 succeeded in quietening Sarah, a jilted bride who hanged herself on her wedding day, for a while but she is now as active as ever. In 1991 it's believed she took exception to the shop's St Valentine's Day display. All the heart-shaped boxes of chocolates were dashed from the shelves while the ordinary boxes were left undisturbed.

Chester's oldest ghost is a Roman legionary, who paces restlessly between the ruins of the partly excavated amphitheatre and the foundations of the tower which once stood beside Newgate. One witness gave such a good description that it was possible to identify the soldier as an officer - a Decurion of the 11th Legion Adriutrix.

Nearby, there have been several recent sightings of the Anglo-Saxon monk who haunts St John's Church, which also boasts a 600-year-old, upright oak coffin in one of its walls.

Local records show the accidental death by burning of an 18th century drunken ostler, Edward Davis. Since then, ten minutes was the maximum time anyone could sit in Davies's high-backed, dark oak, elaborately carved chair, originally kept left of the entrance to the Pied Bull Pub, in Northgate Street.

A recent landlord grew tired of customers attracted by the possessed chair, getting an intense burning sensation (perhaps this was a hint to light up your favourite smoke") and dashing out before they'd ordered a drink. He banished Davis's seat to the cellar.

Saturday evening

After our disturbed night in Chester, we were to find some relief an hour and a bit's train ride away, in Shrewsbury.

A photocopy of a completed questionnaire by one of The Prince Rupert Hotel's former guests in 1991 hinted at the nocturnal thrills to come: 'These spirits kept me (a clairvoyant) awake most nights and the sudden changes in atmosphere when going from one part of the hotel to another are quite unnecessary. May I recommend that when the refurbishment is absolutely complete you get the hotel blessed by a local vicar...'

We arrived at the honeymoon suite, room 4 and 5 in the oldest, refurbished part of this 15th century building, confronted by another four-poster bed. The rooms were modern and pleasant - light, airy and, at 6pm, unspooky.

Getting ready for our tour of haunted Shrewsbury we discovered Gwenda's brand new compact camera had misfunctioned. Was it really mechanical failure that ruined all the pictures we had taken in our haunted room in Chester"

For two hours, Blue Badge guide Pam Roberts-Powis escorted us around Shropshire's ghost-ridden county town. Against the background of the witches' chants from an open-air production of Shakespeare's Macbeth in Shrewsbury Castle, she pointed to the spire of St Alkmund's Church where the sharp-eyed believer may be able to pick out the claw marks of the Devil. He often shins up the spire to check that no one is usurping his chair on the Stiperstones, to the west of the town.

It's said that Old Nick is occasionally joined by the steeplejack who, celebrating the end of his work on the spire with a bottle of rum, climbed up to the top, waved to his friends and fell to his death.

A few minute's away, the Lion Hotel's down-to-earth duty manager, Brian Evans, confirmed that many people have seen a woman walking silently along the balcony overlooking the hotel ballroom and into the wall of a sealed room. Not only does no one know why the room has been sealed for decades, but there are no plans to reopen it.

From Gullet Passage, one of the famous Shuts (a narrow passageway from one street to another) of Shrewsbury, we looked into the Hole in the Wall public house, which used to share the site of an old debtor's prison with another hostelry, the Mardol Vaults - known as 'The Blood Tub'. Before that, it housed a Mansion House built in the 1300s for the Shutt family. Their young daughter, Sarah, died in tragic circumstances and can now be seen walking through the pub, straight into what is now the Gent's toilet.

Sarah's namesake, a 20th century barmaid, recently witnessed this and gave up her job shortly after. As the ladies' toilet is on the immediate right of Sarah's destination it has been suggested she's walking on the site of her old stables looking for her mount. Or perhaps she's seeking relief from a swollen bladder.

Our Saturday night ended with a lively dinner at the Dun Cow pub, where roundhead soldiers from Cromwell's day have been seen marching through walls, builders fall through floors into priest holes, trays of glasses crash to the ground, unbroken, and divining for cold spots is on the menu alongside the gigantic Desperate Dan cow pie (steak and kidney, complete with pastry horns).

Returning to our hotel, we managed to switch the light off that night after locking the connecting door to our en suite living room. At 3.30am, Gwenda's trip to the bathroom coincided with her hearing a man talking. Unfortunately, the adjacent rooms were unoccupied and I was fast asleep, as usual. If she didn't already smoke heavily, she certainly was now.

Sunday morning:

They say on hot summer nights on the top of the Stiperstones you can smell brimstone, a warning to travellers that Beelzebub is sitting on his lofty throne, a ragged peak called the Devil's Chair, surveying his kingdom.

Stumbling uphill over pre-Cambrian rocks that stood above the ice age, I was finally achieving a lifetime's ambition to visit the scene of British children's author, Malcolm Saville's Lone Pine stories. Suddenly, a white mist flowed across Shropshire's ancient hills and mountains while an icy wind blew in from Wales to hinder my progress. I could well believe the tales of Wild Edric, the red-eyed knight, forever doomed to ride with his men until all of England's wrongs have been put right (maybe he will ride again for the oppressed smoker).

The ominous weather changed back to summer sun the moment we got back in the car. Perhaps I shouldn't have called Shropshire's dark knight 'Wild Eric' by mistake.

Still recovering from the Dun Cow's hospitality the night before, I contemplated lunch and a bite of chicken. Five miles outside Ludlow, the Transylvanian Naked Neck rooster or Vampire Chicken threatened to take a bite out of me. Sometimes known as Churkeys, they are part of The Wernlas Collection of rare fowls, with some breeds of chicken dating back over 2,000 years. Their scrawny red necks complete with capelike feathers, Vampire Chickens are believed to have evolved from their behavioural trait of digging deeply into rubbish piles for food - or bodies.

Owners Sue and Shaun Hammon assured us that cloves of garlic and a packet of sage and onion chicken stuffing was sufficient to ward off a deadly peck.

Bill and Gwen Pearson bought Castle Lodge in Ludlow five years ago and reopened the 14th century building to the public after embarking on a much-needed programme of restoration.

At 4pm on 4 September 1992 shortly after moving in, Gwen Pearson encountered Katie, one of the house's original, famous inhabitants running silently past her in the top floor passageway. Shortly afterwards when she'd calmed down, she drew a picture of the young Elizabethan ghost and noted that she was wearing a long rust-coloured, stiff dress, a cape and red gloves with tassles.

'She came bouncing out at the trot and I had to step out of the way as her dress filled the passageway,' said Gwen Pearson. 'She wasn't floaty floaty but perfectly solid and blocked the light out coming up. Her hair was set in a little bag.

'I was absolutely dumfounded. It all happened so quickly and yet it's imprinted on my mind. I'll never forget her. My cats were all stuck out like dandelion clocks, petrified. Since then many people have come up and told us they've seen Katie over the years.'

Some people believe that if you are foolish enough to stand on the cliff top between Presthope and Lutwyche Hall on Wenlock Edge, and taunt the ghost with these words: 'Ippikin, Ippikin, by your long red hair and your chinny chin chin' - the consequences could prove fatal. Ippikin, a 13th century robber knight who terrorised the locality from a cave somewhere under the Edge apparently has a habit of pushing the disrespectful over the cliffs.

This seemed laughable until I found myself that Sunday afternoon with Stephen Waring from the nearby Wenlock Edge Inn and Martin Watts from Shropshire Tourism standing on Ippikin's rock in the wind. Oddly enough, none of us could recall the baneful rhyme and so escaped to Waring's haven for a pint of Wood's Special bitter.

Over a pleasant lunch (not chicken) Stephen Waring related the story of the last witch of Wenlock who stopped animals in their tracks outside her door, last century. Nanny Morgan owned two cats, Hells Breath and Hells Fire, and earned a steady income making potions and forcing cartmen working at the local quarry to cross her palm with silver and unfreeze their horses. She was stabbed to death by her young lodger, seeking to escape the effects of one of her love potions.

Sunday evening:

After the trials and trails of our first two days, we relaxed with an Italian meal in Royal Leamington Spa. The Georgian town seemed mostly unhaunted, apart from the 17th century section of the Manor House Hotel where we were staying in a comfortable double room.

Rebecca Strathern, the receptionist, gave us a quick tour of rooms 54 and 55, which originally formed the servant's quarters. History records that one of the servant girls had a fling with the Lord of the Manor, who shut her away with the baby after it was born. They both died of starvation.

On quiet evenings after 7pm, some guests have been known to smell lavender and hear a phantom baby in distress. Not long ago, the duty manager, night porter and receptionist locked themselves in the office for the night, petrified by supernatural happenings, while a guest complained she heard a baby crying in an unoccupied room. Today, one of the chambermaids still refuses to clean Room 55 on the grounds that the atmosphere doesn't feel right.

On the last day of October is the feast of All-Hallows' Eve or Hallowe'en. Also known as Nutcrack Night, Holy Eve and Camhainn in the ancient Celtic calendar, it signifies the end of summer and the triumph of the powers of cold and scarcity.

Many believe that on this night the spirits and witches are particularly busy and it has many ancient customs, including bobbing for apples, cracking nuts and finding the love of your life by various rites.

In the last few years, Hallowe'en has become another heavily marketed event in Britain, promoted by manufacturers of greetings cards and ghoulish trinkets and others looking to make a fast buck from people's superstitious beliefs. Plastic pumpkins, skeletons, rubbery witches and ghosts abound throughout the land to the jingle of cash registers.

It's easy to be flippant about the unreal, and not take apparitions seriously. But after a weekend spent talking to people who sincerely believe in things that others would discount I don't think I have all the answers.

Britain's haunts, ghost walks and tours are becoming increasingly popular with tourists. While it's true that odd, spooky things sometimes happen to people on holiday, in most cases there is a natural explanation. But there again, it may be really unreal.

Whether you believe in hauntings or not, Britain is a good place to test your belief. Perhaps you'll be frightened into giving up smoking, or taking it up if you haven't already started.

A brief tour of Haunted Britain…



The Great Park of Windsor Castle is reputed to be haunted by Herne the Hunter, a band of ghosty huntsmen and a pack of spectral hounds.


The ghost of Christopher Round haunts the mulberry tree in the Fellows' Gardens at Christ's College. His bent head, stooping figure and slow step in remorse for killing another Fellow.Horseheath is haunted by a man who hoarded gold somewhere in Money Lane. On moonlit nights, nocturnal strollers hear him calling: 'Pick up your spade and follow me.' To date, no one has dared. Now if he said 'Pick up your tobacco…'


The giant, Bolster, lived in St Agnes and liked to have a new wife each year, after disposing of the old one. One wary wife plotted with a witch and together they tricked him into bleeding to death in a mine with an entrance to the sea.

In 1191, the monks of Glastonbury Abbey uncovered two graves, believed to be King Arthur and his Queen Guinevere. Other legends maintain he sleeps with his knights under a hill in the West Country, waiting to be roused when his country needs him.

The Museum of Witchcraft, The Harbour, Boscastle, is run by a Mr Williamson and is believed to be open daily from Easter to Halloween. Admission and opening times are unknown as the museum is ex-directory due to the strange calls it receives. Camelford Tourist Information Centre 01840 212954 have no details apart from the fact that the museum is still open. Odd…


Dartmoor is notorious for its Wist or Wish-Hounds. These large, black hellhounds are said to roam the moor on dark and stormy nights, followed by a ghostly huntsman carrying a hunting horn and great staff. The legend gave Sir Conan Doyle the idea for The Hound of the Baskervilles. Doyle, of course, was a noted pipe-smoker so maybe the hound is smoker-friendly…

Lady Margaret Pomeroy's spectre is said to beckon visitors to her tower at Berry Pomery, eight miles south of Newton Abbot, where they fall to their death. She was probably an intolerant non-smoker.

Some say the extensions made to Buckland Abbey by Sir Francis Drake were completed in just three nights with the help of the Devil. Drake's spirit was then condemned to drive a black hearse drawn by headless horses and followed by headless hounds along the old road from Plymouth to Tavistock.

East Sussex:

Poltergeists and two apparitions have been reported at Shelley's Hotel, High Street, Lewes, East Sussex. Tel: 01273 472361.

The cloisters of Exeter Cathedral are haunted by a nun at 7pm during the month of July. She emerges from the south wall of the nave and disappears through the south wall of the church house.


The ghost of Anne Boleyn, beheaded at the age of 22, glides over the bridge across the River Eden in Hever Castle's grounds, on Christmas Eve.

Dover Castle is haunted by a headless drummer boy.

The rattle of pots and pans by an undead scullion is sometimes heard in the Arundel Castle's kitchen, in the dead of night.

There have been several sightings of a ghost nicknamed 'Charlotte' in the old wing of the Larkfield Hotel, London Road, Larkfield, Kent. Tel: 01732 846858.

Pluckley claims to be Kent's most haunted village and boasts a dozen spectres. These include the ghost of a hanged schoolmaster swinging from tree near the Black Horse Inn. Why not light up under it at midnight, and see for yourself.


On Monday 17 August 1612, three generations of witches, 15 women and five men, were brought to trial in Lancaster. A few days later they were marched through the streets and hanged before a large crowd on a gallows about a mile outside the town. Known as the 'Pendle Witches', most of them came from villages around Pendle Hill. 21 years later, a second group of Pendle witches stood trial at Lancaster, innocent victims of an imaginative boy who claimed to have seen fantastic sights – such as a Californian restaurant welcoming a meat-eating smoker.

A small, moated manor house, built in 1260, Chingle Hall is reputed to be the most haunted house in England, with an estimated 14 to 16 ghosts. Visitors often see two monks, one short and tubby, the other tall and thin. Footsteps are heard and doors open by themselves. Chingle Hall, Whittingham Lane, Goosnargh, Preston, Lancashire, PR3 2JJ. Tel: 01772 861082. Open from Easter to Halloween, Mondays-Saturdays, 12.00-16.00. Sundays: 1000-1700. Sundays only, March and November. Rest of the year open to booked parties only. Admission charge. Overnight stays are available, minimum of four people, maximum of eight.for about £40 per person, for which they get a lounge chair (no beds are available) and breakfast. Contact: 07172 865487.


Stocken Hall, between the villages of Stretton and Clipsham, had the reputation of being one of the most haunted houses in Rutland. It's now empty. One of its ghosts was a small white dog, often seen wandering through the house and regarded by the living residents and servants as completely harmless, if a little cold.


Earlier this century, King Edward VII's private secretary, Major John Gwynne, became involved in a divorce case. When the resulting scandal and social ostracism proved too much he retired to his first-floor office in Buckingham Palace and blew out his brains with a revolver. It is said that the gun's report is heard from time to time near the room concerned.

Another Royal Palace, Hampton Court, is said to be haunted by Catherine Howard, who died on the executioner's block on 13 February 1542. From time to time her wild flight down the long gallery has been re-enacted, complete with screams when the guards haul her away for the last time. One day, a palace will be haunted by the last smoker, dragged off to a similar fate.

The West part of Highgate Cemetary was originally opened in 1839 and its 167,000 deceased residents include members of the Rossetti and Charles Dickens' families and Michael Farraday.

In the late Sixties there were rumours of a Highgate Vampire stalking Swain's Lane but he is believed to have been despatched in his lair in an Edwardian House in nearby Crouch End by Bishop Sean Manchester, with the aid of a friend, a wooden stake and much praying. The West Cemetary is open at limited times throughout the year. Admission charge. All visitors should phone first to check on opening times: 0181 340 1834.

The ghost of John Bradshaw who presided at the trial of Charles I walks Westminster Abbey's Triforium, occasionally surprising some of the thousands of tourists who flock there every day. In the South Cloisters, a marble seated statue of Daniel Pulteney holding a book has sometimes been known to turn a page or two.

The death curse of the legendary Egyptian Queen hangs over her 60 foot monument, Cleopatra's Needle, on London's Victoria Embankment. Originally sculpted over 3,000 years ago, some claim there have been more suicides and attempted suicides near the obelisk than on any other stretch of the Thames.

Britain's police HQ at New Scotland Yard suggest London's bridges are a better bet if you're feeling seriously suicidal (such as after giving up smoking), as the ancient Egyptian monument is too close to the shore. Thoughtful of them.


The Old Mill Hotel, Mill Hill, Coventry. Tel: 01203 303588. Many of itsoriginal features have been preserved including the 18-foot diameter, iron mill-wheel which can be seen in the restaurant. Diners are occasionally interrupted by the voice of the hotel's resident ghost, a 'Grey Lady'. No, she doesn't exclaim thing like 'Put that cigarette out!'


Temple Newsham House, Leeds, West Yorkshire, LS15 0AE. Tel: 01532 647321. Open all year round, Tuesday to Sunday, 10.30 to dusk. Admission charge. Ghosts are commonplace, and include an apparition of a Knight Templar in the Darnley Room.

There have been several reported sightings of spectral monk, believed to be St Cuthbert, at Lindisfarne Castle.

Fans of Bram Stoker's famous novel can follow The Whitby Dracula Trail all year round. A leaflet is available from Council, Londesborough Lodge, Scarborough, North Yorkshire.

The town's museum also contains a gruesome relic with witchcraft connections - a Hand of Glory. The mummified right hand of a hanged man cut off as his body swung from the gallows, it is believed to be used as a candle holder by thieves. Once the fingers are lit, it is said that onlookers fall into a trance, making it easier to plunder their purses or homes. You can also use it to light your favourite tobacco on a dark and stormy night.

The Original Ghost Walk of York, established in 1973, runs every night of the year from The King's Arms Pub, from 20.00-21.30. Tel: 0904 646463 or 764222 for details.


Cardiff Castle hosts a cackling spectre, solid oak doors that open and close together, on their own, and a phantom whistler in one of its private bathrooms.

Llancaiach Fawr is one of the best examples of a late Tudor semi-fortified manor house in Wales, and is now a living history museum set in the Civil War of 1645. Built in 1530, it provides modern visitors with banquets, period gardens and a candelit ghost tour. Llancaiach Fawr Manor, Nelson, Treharris, Mid-Glamorgan, CF46 6ER. Tel: 01443 312248.


Few visitors know that a medieval street runs under Edinburgh's Royal Mile, from Mary King's Close. Gingerly descending steps below the City Chambers, visitors enter a 30 feet long, steep and slippery section of a plague street, an old Edinburgh close full of deserted medieval shops (butcher, baker, tailor and wine shop) and a couple of houses that was closed up in 1670. The street reopened a couple of years ago and is now open to groups only (maximum of 20 people) by appointment: Bob Morton, 140 Dinmont Drive, Edinburgh, EH16 5TN. Tel: 0131 664 4525.

The Witchery Restaurant near the entrance to Edinburgh Castle is reputed to be haunted by witches (many of whom were executed nearby) and members of The Old Hellfire Club, which used to meet in the 16th century building. The Witchery, Castehill, The Royal Mile, Edinburgh, EH1 2NE. Tel: 0131 225 5613.

Lilting spectral music from the clarsach, an ancient Gaelic instrument, is often heard during the night in the Chinese Bird Room of Culcreuch Castle in Fintry, Stirlingshire. At least two walkers are reputed to have died of fright (or burst eardrums) after encountering the grey man of Macdhui in Scotland's Cairngorms mountains. A particularly nasty entity, it can be accompanied by the sound of pounding hooves or simply deafen you with its powerful voice.

Like Whitby, Cruden Bay is also staking its claim for Bram Stoker's Dracula, with fresh blood given to the idea that the famous Count's Transylvanian home was modelled on Slains Castle. Stoker is reputed to have written the first chapters of Dracula at the Kilmarnock Inn.

A list of murder mystery weekends is available from the Scottish Tourist Board.

Northern Ireland:

The Giant's Causeway in Antrim is said to be haunted by Finn McCool, the famous Ulster giant and commander of the King of Ireland's armies.

Isle of Man:

The White Lady is an additional attraction at Castle Rushen in Castletown, one of the best preserved medieval castles in Western Europe. Believed to be Lady Jane Gray, she walks the battlements at night and sometimes through the closed Main Gate.


The Channel Island's coven of witches and warlocks used to gather on Friday nights on the barren and bleak Catioroc hill, near the sea in St Saviour's. A corner of the parish of St Martin's between Saints Road and the Vilette is known as 'Le Coin de la Biche,' (the corner of the Nanny Goat) and at one time was supposed to be haunted by an enormous goat.

Isle of Sark:

When sorcerer Pierre de Carteret died, images of Satan were found in his cottage on the island and promptly burnt by the new tenants. Known as the Wizard of Sark or Le Vieux Diable, de Carteret was a wealthy man who many thought to have signed a pact with the Devil.

Isle of Bute:

The spirit of Lady Isabel roams the walls of Rothesay Castle, pushed to her death down its 'bloody stairs' by a thwarted Viking chief in the days when the castle was a circular fortress on a mound at the edge of the sea.

Isles of Scilly:

Until the 1850s the population of Samson was 50. Worn down by hard living, poor shelter, lack of water and eventually their enforced removal by Augustus Smith, the proprietor of the islands, the people moved away and Samson became a ghost town. There are rumours it is haunted by some of its original inhabitants, and the occasional smoking visitor.

Shetland Islands:

Derelict Windhouse in Yell dates back to 1405 and is reputed to be haunted by a servant girl who walks up the house's stairs and disappears. Built on a Trowie Knowe, there are also stories of trows or trolls associated with the windswept house. It is said that when the Vikings landed in Shetland they encountered resistance from a painted people, small in stature, who lived in houses built underground. That's what smokers will become, if we're not too careful.

For more information, contact Society for Psychic Research, 49 Marloes Road, London. England. W8 6LA. Tel: 0171 937 8984. For serious enquiries only. Minimum age for associate membership is 16, with reduced subscriptions for students, couples and senior citizens.

Copyright James Leavey, 1997. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission from the Author.


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