might be forwarded by the next ship. In due
course it arrived, embalmed, but enclosed in a
coffin so much larger than was required for the
tiny occupant, that the intervening spaces had
to be filled up with clothes, &c., while the Indian
scarf had been wound, in many folds, around the
child's body.

A favourite theory lays it down as law that
it requires two minds to produce one ghost.
There must be, on the one side, the power of
projection of the image on—the other, that of
receptivity. Unless the mirror be specially
prepared, the object, though at hand, cannot
become visible. Yet, here is an example of the
substitution of one, certainly in no such
condition of special preparedness, for another
unquestionably interested.

Colonel M——, who perished, with a party
of his men, in the lamentable burning of a
transport on her voyage to the Crimea, was
well known to the writer. M—— was a man
of the coolest nerve, of the most imperturbable
self-possession. It was his habit to sit
up late, reading, in the chamber of his invalid
wife, after the latter had retired to bed. One
night, Mrs. M—— having fallen asleep, the
door opened, and her maid, Lucy, who had
been sent home, ill, to the charge of her friends,
a few days before, entered the room. Perfectly
conscious, as he declared, from the first, that
the object he beheld was not of this world, the
steady soldier fixed his eyes on the apparition,
careful only to catch its every movement, and
impress the whole scene with accuracy on his
memory. The figure moved slowly to the side
of the bed, gazed with a sad and wistful expression
on the sleeper's face, and then, as though
reluctantly, died away into the gloom. Colonel
M—— then awoke his wife, and related what
had occurred. The hour was noted, and proved
to be precisely that at which the poor girl had
breathed her last, murmuring her mistress's
name.

Some twenty years ago, the attention of Sir
M—— and Lady S—— was attracted to the
friendless position of a little orphan boy. So
great was the interest with which he inspired
them both that they took entire charge of his
future, giving him an excellent education, and,
at a proper age, introducing him, on his own
earnest request, into the navy. Several years
passed, during which the young man advanced
rapidly in professional and general knowledge,
and was to all appearance on the outset of a
prosperous career, when, one rude November
night, about half-past twelve, the inmates of
Lady S——'s country-house, at which she was
then residing, in the absence abroad of Sir
M——, were aroused by a loud ringing at the
bell. Lady S——, herself awakened, heard the
step of her steady old butler moving in person
to ascertain who could possibly be arriving at
such an hour. A furious gust of wind and
rain seemed to burst in with the opening door.
A long pause succeeded; after which the butler
was heard reascending to his apartment. Lady
S——'s curiosity was sufficiently aroused to
induce her to summon her maid, who slept in
an adjoining room, and send her to question
the butler as to the untimely visitor. The
answer returned was that, on opening the door,
one was to be seen. The night, though
rough, was not very dark, and neither on the
gravelled approach, nor on the broad lawns, could
be discerned a living thing. But for so many
having heard the bell, the butler would have
imagined it a dream.

Gradually the household resumed its repose,
when, at two o'clock, a second summons startled
everybody. There was no mistaking now, for
the bell had not ceased its impatient vibrations
when the butler, with several other servants, set
foot on the stairs. Again the storm dashed into
the house, and nothing but the storm. No
human shape was visible without, nor were any
footprints to be traced on the smooth gravel
sheltered by the porch. As they were about to
close the door for the second time, Lady S——'s
maid appeared on the landing, and beckoned,
with a white scared face, to those below;

"Come up—come up, somebody! My lady
has seen Mr. D——. I dare not stay there
alone!"

It was, in effect, as she had said. Immediately
after the group of servants had descended the
stairs, Lady S——had seen the figure of young
D—— standing at the foot of her bed. Believing
at the moment that it was actually himself,
she had accosted him:

"What, Edward, you here?"

The figure immediately disappeared.

News shortly arrived that the young man had
perished at sea on that wild November night,
between the hours of twelve and two.

The following singular story, belonging,
perhaps, more strictly to the realm of dreams
than visions, was related to the writer, a short
time since, by the lady of a distinguished
German diplomatist, now residing at Frankfort.

A friend of the narrator had herself a beloved
and attached friend, who died after a brief but
severe interval of suffering. A short time after,
the spirit of the departed stood, in a dream, by
the bedside of her friend, Madame L——, and,
with a countenance distorted with indescribable
agony, implored the latter to interest in her
behalf some "great, strong soul," that might
wrestle for her in prayer, and emancipate the
afflicted spirit, if it might be, from its present
intolerable condition. This condition she
described as one of an eager longing to repent,
but of perpetual contention with some terrible
hindrance, only removable through the means
suggested. Much troubled in mind, Madame
L——, after some deliberation, resolved to
appeal to the strongest and most ardent soul within
the range of her acquaintance, in the person of
——sometimes called the "German Luther."
To him, accordingly, she made her appeal. The
good man consented, and redeemed his promise
with characteristic zeal.

Soon after, the apparition revisited Madame
L——. This time with aspect more composed,