and the circumstances under which I was last summoned, at a time too when I had not even composed myself to rest, fatally convinced me of the reality of what I have seen and suffered.

"This is no time for concealments of any kind. It is now more than a twelvemonth since I was in the habit of occasionally encountering in my walks a young man of prepossessing appearance and gentlemanly deportment: he was always alone, generally reading, but I could not be fong in doubt that these rencontres, which became every week more frequent, were not the effect of accident, or that his attention, when we did meet, was less directed to his book than to my sister and myself. He even seemed to wish to address us, and I have no doubt would have taken some other opportunity of doing so, had not one been afforded him by a strange dog attacking us, one Sunday morning, in our way to church, which he beat off, and made use of this little service to promote an acquaintance. His name, he said, was Francis Somers, and that he was on a visit to a relation of the same name, resident a few miles from X. He gave us to understand that he was himself studying surgery with the view to a medical appointment in one of the colonies. You are not to suppose, sir, that he had entered thus into his concerns at the first interview; it was not till our acquaintance had ripened, and he had visited our house more than once with my mother's sanction, that these particulars were elicited. He never disguised, from the first, that an attachment to myself was his object originally in introducing himself to our notice; as his prospects were comparatively flattering, my mother did not raise any impediment to his attentions, and I own I received them with pleasure.

"Days and weeks elapsed, and although the distance at which his relation resided, prevented the possibility of an uninterrupted intercourse, yet neither was it so great as to preclude his frequent visits. The interval of a day, or at most of two, was all that intervened, and these temporary absences certainly did not decrease the pleasure of the meetings with which they terminated. Åt

length a pensive expression began to exhibit itself upon his countenance, and I could not but remark that at every visit he became more abstracted and reserved. The eye of affection is not slow to detect any symptom of uneasiness in a quarter dear to it. I spoke to him, questioned him on the subject; his answer was evasive, and I said no more. My mother too, however, had marked the same appearance of melancholy, and pressed him more strongly. He at length admitted that his spirits were depressed, and that their depression was caused by the necessity of an early though but a temporary separation. His uncle, and only friend, he said, had long insisted on his spending some months on the Continent, with the view of completing his professional education, and that the time was now fast approaching when it would be necessary for him to commence his journey. A look made the enquiry which my tongue refused to utter. "Yes, dearest Mary," was his reply, "I have communicated our attachment to him, partially at least, and though I dare not say that the intimation was received as I could have wished, yet I have, perhaps, on the whole, no fair reason to be dissatisfied with his reply.

"The completion of my studies, and my settlement in the world, must, my uncle told me, be the first consideration; when these material points were achieved, he should not interfere with any arrangement that might be found essential to my happiness; at the same time he has positively refused to sanction any engagement at present, which may, he says, have a tendency to divert my attention from those studies, on the due prosecution of which my future situation in life must depend. A compromise between love and duty was eventually wrung from me, though reluctantly; I have pledged myself to proceed immediately to my destination abroad, with a full understanding that on my return, a twelvemonth hence, no obstacle shall be thrown in the way of what are, I trust, our mutual wishes."

"I will not attempt to describe the feelings with which I received this communication, nor will it be necessary to say any thing of what passed at the few interviews which took

place before Francis quitted X The evening immediately previous to that of his departure he passed in this house, and before we separated, renewed his protestations of an unchangeable affection, requiring a similar assurance from me in return. I did not hesitate to make it. "Be satisfied, my dear Francis," said 1, "that no diminution in the regard Í have avowed can ever take place, and, though absent in body, my heart and soul will still be with you.""Swear this," he cried, with a suddenness and energy which surprised, and rather startled me; "promise that you will be with me in spirit, at least, when I am far away." I gave him my hand, but that was not sufficient. "One of these dark shining ringlets, my dear Mary," said he, "as a pledge that you will not forget your vow!" I suffered him to take the scissors from my work-box, and to sever a lock of my hair, which he placed in his bosom. The next day he was pursuing his journey, and the waves were already bearing him from England.

"I had letters from him repeatedly during the first three months of his absence; they spoke of his health, his prospects, and of his love, but by degrees the intervals between each arrival became longer, and I fancied I perceived some falling off from that warmth of expression which at first characterised his communications.

"One night I had retired to rest, rather later than usual, having sat by the bedside, reading and comparing his last brief note with some of his earlier letters, and endeavouring to convince myself that my apprehensions of his fickleness were unfounded, when an undefinable sensation of restlessness and anxiety seized upon me. I cannot compare it to any thing I had ever experienced before; my pulse fluttered, my heart beat with a quickness and violence which alarmed me, and a strange tremour shook my whole frame. I retired hastily to bed, in hopes of getting rid of so unpleasant a sensation, but in vain; a vague apprehension of I knew not what, occupied my mind, and vainly did I endeavour to shake it off. I can compare my feelings to nothing but those which we sometimes experience when

about to undertake a long and unpleasant journey, leaving those we love behind us. More than once did I raise myself in my bed, and listen, fancying that I heard myself called, and on each of those occasions the fluttering of my heart increased. Twice I was on the point of calling to my sister, who then slept in an adjoining room, but she had gone to bed indisposed, and an unwilling ness to disturb either her or my mother, checked me; the large clock in the room below at this moment began to strike the hour of twelve. I distinctly heard its vibrations, but ere its sounds had ceased, a burning heat, as if a hot iron had been applied to my temple, was succeeded by a dizziness, a swoon, a total loss of consciousness as to where or in what situation I was.

"A pain, violent, sharp, and piercing, as though my whole frame were lacerated by some keen-edged wea

pon,

roused me from this stupor,but where was I? Every thing was strange around me-a shadowy dimness rendered every object indistinct and uncertain; methought, however, that I was seated in a large antique high-backed chair, several of which were near, their tall black carved frames and seats interwoven with a lattice work of cane. The apartment in which I sat was of moderate dimensions, and from its sloping roof, seemed to be the upper story of the edifice, a fact confirmed by the moon shining without, in full effulgence, on a large round tower, which its light rendered plainly visible through the open casement, and the summit of which seemed but little superior in elevation to the room I occupied. Rather to the right, and in the distance, the spire of some cathedral, or lofty church, was visible, while sundry gable ends, and tops of houses, told me I was in the midst of a populous, but unknown city.

"The apartment itself had something strange in its appearance; and in the character of its furniture and appurtenances bore little or no resemblance to any I had ever seen before. The fireplace was large and wide, with a pair of what are sometimes called andirons, betokening that wood was the principal, if not

the only fuel consumed within its recess; a huge fire was now blazing in it, the light from which rendered visible the remotest parts of the chamber. Over a lofty old-fashioned mantelpiece, carved heavily in imitation of fruits and flowers, hung a half-length portrait of a gentleman in a dark coloured foreign habit, with a peaked beard and mustaches, one hand resting upon a table, the other supporting a sort of baton, or short military staff, the summit of which was surmounted by a silver dove. Several antique chairs, similar in appearance to those already mentioned, surrounded a massive oaken table, the length of which much exceeded its width. At the lower end of this piece of furniture, stood the chair I occupied; on the upper, was placed a small chafing dish, filled with burning coals, and darting forth occasionally long flashes of various coloured fire, the brilliance of which made itself visible, even above the strong illumination emitted from the chimney. Two huge black japanned cabinets, with claw feet, reflecting from their polished surfaces the effulgence of the flame, were placed one on each side the casement window to which I have alluded, and with a few shelves loaded with books, many of which were also strewed in disorder on the floor, completed the list of the furniture in the apartment. Some strange looking instrument, of unknown form and purpose, lay on the table near the chafing dish, on the other side of which a miniature portrait of myself hung, reflected by a small oval mirror in a dark coloured frame, while a large open volume, traced with strange characters, of the colour of blood, lay in front; a goblet, containing a few drops of liquid of the same ensanguined hue, was by its side.

powder, which produced and maintained a brilliant but flickering blaze, to the action of which his companion was exposing a long lock of dark chestnut hair, that shrank and shrivelled as it approached the flame. But, oh God! that hair, and the form of him who held it! that face! those features! not for one instant could I entertain a doubt it was He! Francis! the lock he grasped was mine, the very pledge of affection I had given him, and still, as it partially encountered the fire, a burning heat seemed to scorch the temple from which it had been taken, conveying a torturing sensation that affected my very brain.

"How shall I proceed-but no, it is impossible, not even to you, sir, can I-dare I-recount the proceedings of that unhallowed night of horror and of shame. Were my life extended to a term commensurate with that of the Patriarchs of old, never could its detestable, its damning pollutions be effaced from my remembrance; and, oh! above all, never could I forget the diabolical glee which sparkled in the eyes of my fiendish tormentors, as they witnessed the worse than useless struggles of their miserable victim. Oh! why was it not permitted me to take refuge in unconsciousness-nay, in death itself, from the abominations of which I was compelled to be, not only a witness, but à partaker? But it is enough, sir; I will not further shock your nature by dwelling longer on a scene, the full horrors of which, words, if I even dared employ any, would be inadequate to express; suffice it to say, that after being subjected to it, how long I know not, but certainly for more than an hour, a noise from below seemed to alarm my persecutors ; a pause ensued, the lights were extinguished, and, as the sound of a footstep ascending a staircase became more distinct, my forehead felt again the excruciating sensation of heat, as the embers, kindling into a momentary flame, betrayed another portion of the ringlet consuming in the blaze. Fresh agonies succeeded, not less severe, and of a similar description to those which had seized upon me at first. Oblivion again followed, and, on being at length restored to consciousness, I found myself as you

see me now, faint and exhausted, weakened in every limb, and every fibre quivering with agitation. My groans soon brought my sister to my aid; it was long before I could summon resolution to confide even to her the dreadful secret, and when I had done so, her strongest efforts were not wanting to persuade me that I had been labouring under a severe attack of nightmare. I ceased to argue, but I was not convinced; the whole scene was then too present, too awfully real, to permit me to doubt the character of the transaction; and if, when a few days had elapsed, the hopelessness of impart ing to others the conviction I entertained myself, produced in me an apparent acquiescence with that opinion, I have never been the less satisfied that no cause reducible to the known laws of nature, occasioned my sufferings on that hellish evening. Whether that firm belief might have eventually yielded to time, whether I might at length have been brought to consider all that had passed, and the circumstances which I could never cease to remember, as a mere phantasm, the offspring of a heated imagination, acting upon an enfeebled body, last night would have dispelled the flattering illusion -last night-last night was the whole horrible scene acted over again :-The place-the actors-the whole infernal apparatus were the same; the same insults, the same torments, the same brutalities-all were renewed, save that the period of my agony was not so prolonged.I became sensible to an incision in my arm, though the hand that made it was not visible; at the same moment, my persecutors paused; they were manifestly disconcerted, and the companion of him whose name shall never more pass my lips, muttered something to his abettor in evident agitation; the formula of an oath of horrible import was dictated to me in terms fearfully distinct. I refused it unhesitatingly; again and again was it proposed, with menaces I tremble to think on-but I refused; -the same sound was heard-interruption was evidently apprehended, -the same ceremony was hastily repeated, and I again found myself released, lying on my own bed with my mother, and my sister weeping

VOL. XXIX. NO. CLXXIX.

over me. Oh, God! oh, God! when and how is this to end? When will my spirit be left in peace? Where, or with whom shall I find refuge ?'

"It is impossible to convey any adequate idea of the emotions with which this unhappy girl's narrative affected me. It must not be supposed that her story was delivered in the same continuous and uninterrupted strain in which I have transcribed its substance. On the contrary, it was not without frequent intervals, of longer or shorter duration, that her account was brought to a conclusion: indeed, many passages of her strange dream were not without the greatest difficulty and reluctance communicated at all. My task was no easy one; never, in the course of a long life spent in the active duties of my Christian calling, never had I been summoned to such a conference before.

"To the half avowed and palliated confession of committed guilt, I had often listened, and pointed out the only road to secure its forgiveness. I had succeeded in cheering the spirit of despondency, and sometimes even in calming the ravings of despair; but here I had a different enemy to combat, an ineradicable prejudice to encounter, evidently backed by no common share of superstition, and confirmed by the mental weakness attendant upon severe bodily pain. To argue the sufferer out of an opinion so rooted, was a hopeless attempt. I did, however, essay it: I spoke to her of the strong and mysterious connexion maintained between our waking images, and those which haunt us in our dreams, and more especially during that morbid oppression commonly called nightmare. I was even enabled to adduce myself as a strong and living instance of the excess to which fancy sometimes carries her freaks on these occasions; and by an odd coincidence, the impression made upon my own mind, which I adduced as an example, bore no slight resemblance to her own. I stated to her, that on my recovery from the fit of epilepsy, which had attacked me about two years since, just before my grandson Frederick left Oxford, it was with the greatest difficulty I could persuade myself that I had not visited him during the

2 R

interval in his rooms at Brazenose, and even conversed both with himself and his friend W, seated in his arm-chair, and gazing through the window full upon the statue of Cain, as it stands in the centre of the quadrangle. I told her of the pain I underwent both at the commencement and termination of my attack, of the extreme lassitude that succeeded; but my efforts were all in vain: she listened to me, indeed, with an interest almost breathless, especially when I informed her of my having actually experienced the burning sensation in the brain alluded to, no doubt strong attendant symptoms of this peculiar affection, and a proof of the identity of the complaint; but I could plainly perceive that I failed entirely in shaking the rooted opinion which possessed her, that her spirit had, by

some nefarious and unhallowed means, been actually subtracted for a time from its earthly tenement."

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The next extract which I shall give from my old friend's memoranda, is dated August 24th, more than a week subsequent to his first visit at Mrs G's. He appears, from his papers, to have visited the poor young woman more than once during the interval, and to have afforded her those spiritual consolations which no one was more capable of communicating. His patient, for so in a religious sense she may well be termed, had been sinking under the agitation she had experienced; and the constant dread she was under of similar sufferings, operated so strongly on a frame already enervated, that life at length seemed to hang only by a thread. His papers go on to say,

"I have just seen poor Mary G, I fear for the last time. Nature is evidently quite worn out, she is aware that she is dying, and looks forward to the termination of her existence here, not only with resignation, but with joy. It is clear that her dream, or what she persists in calling her subtraction,' has much to do with this. For the last three days, her behaviour has been altered; she has avoided conversing on the subject of her delusion, and seems to wish that I should consider her as a convert to my view of her case. This may perhaps be partly

owing to the flippancies of her medical attendant upon the subject, for Mr I has, somehow or other, got an inkling that she has been much agitated by a dream, and thinks to laugh off the impression, in my opinion injudiciously; but though a skilful and a kindhearted, he is a young man, and of a disposition, perhaps, rather too mercurial for the chamber of a nervous invalid. Her manner has since been much more reserved to both of us: in my case probably because she suspects me of betraying her secret."

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towards me has returned since her sis

August 26th.-Mary G― is yet alive, but sinking fast; her cordiality ter confessed yesterday that she had herself told Mrl that his patient's mind had been affected by a terrible vision.' I am evidently restored to her confidence. She asked me this morning, with much earnestness, 'What I believed to be the state of departed spirits during the interval between dissolution and the final day of account? And whether I thought they would be safe in another world from the influence of wicked perhuman?" sons employing an agency more than Poor child!-One cannot mistake the still prevailing bias of her mind-Poor child!"

"August 27th. It is nearly over,she is sinking rapidly, but quietly and without pain. I have just administered to her the sacred elements, of which her mother partook. Elizabeth declined doing the same; she cannot, she says, yet bring herself to forgive the villain who has destroyed her sister. It is singular that she, a young woman of good plain sense in ordinary matters, should so easily adopt, and so pertinaciously retain, a superstition so puerile and ridiculous. This must be matter of future conversation between us; at present, with the form of the dying girl before her eyes, it were vain to argue with her. The mother, I find, has written to young Somers, stating the dangerous situation of his affianced wife; indignant, as she justly is, at his long silence. It is fortunate that she has no knowledge of the suspicions entertained by her daughter. I have seen her letter, it is addressed to Mr Fran