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less bounded in its own proper crea- rushing wind, a long and dusky pastions, than in those which were be- sage, an half open door-0, then truly, stowed on it by the poor blind eyes of another answer may be given, and our ancestors. What has become of many will request leave to sleep upon enchantresses with their palaces of it, before they decide whether there be. crystal and dungeons of palpable darke such a thing as a ghost in the world, or ness? What of fairies and their out of the world, if that phraseology wavds? What of witches and their be more spiritual. What is the meanfamiliars ? and, last, what of ghosts, ing of this feeling ? with beckoping hands and fleeting for my own part, I never saw a shapes, which quelled the soldier's ghost except once in a dream. I brave heart, and made the murderer feared it in my sleep ; I awoke tremdisclose to the astonished noon the bling, and lights and the speech of veiled work of midnight? These others could hardly dissipate my fear. which were realities to our forefathers, Some years ago I lost a friend, and a in our wiser age

few months afterwards visited the -- Characterless are grated

house where I had last seen him. It To dusty nothing. Yet is it true that we do not believe

was deserted, and though in the midst in ghosts? There used to be several on

of a city, its vast halls and spacious traditionary tales repeated, with their

apartments occasioned the same sense authorities, enough to stagger is when

on an uninhabited heath. I walked we consigned them to that place where that is which “is as though it had

through the vacant chambers by twinever been.” But these are gone out

light, and none save I awakened the of fashion. Brutus's dream has be

echoes of their pavement. The far come a deception of his over-heated

mountains (visible from the upper wina brain, Lord Lyttleton's vision is called

dows) had lost their tinge of sunset ;a cheat; and one by one these inhabi

the tranquil atmosphere grew leaden tants of deserted houses, moonlight

coloured as the golden stars appeared glades, misty mountain tops, and.

in the firmament; no wind ruffled the midnight church-yards, have been

shrunk-up river which crawled lazily ejected from their immemorial seats,

" through the deepest channel of its wide and small thrill is felt when the dead i

į and empty bed; the chimes of the Ave.

Maria had ceased, and the bell bung majesty of Denmark blanches the

moveless in the open belfry : beauty cheek and unsettles the reason of his

invested a reposing world, and awe was philosophic son. But do none of us believe in ghosts?

inspired by beauty only. I walked If this question be read at noon-day,

through the rooms filled with sensations

of the most poignant grief. He had when

been there ; bis living frame had been Every little corner, nook, and hole, Is penetrated with the insolent light

caged by those walls, his breath had

features of my reader. But let it be had been on those stones, I thought :twelve at night in a lone house; take the earth is a tomb, the gaudy sky a up, I beseech you, the story of the vault, we but walking corpses. - The Bleeding Nun; or of the Statue, to wind rising in the east rushed through which the bridegroom gave the wed- the open casements, making them ding ring, and she came in the dead of shake ;-methought, I heard, I felt-I pight to claiin him, tall, wbite, and know not what- but I treinbled. To cold; or of the Crandsire, who with have seen him but for a moment, I shadowy form and breathless lips stood would have knelt until the stones had over the couch and kissed the fore- been worn by the impress, so I told . heads of bis sleeping grand-children, myself, and so I knew a moment after, and thus doomed them to their fated but then I trembled, awe-struck and death; and let all these details be as- fearful. Wherefore ? There is somesisted by solitude, flapping curtains, thing beyond us of which we are igno

50 ATHENEUN VOL. 1. 2d scrins. rant. The sun drawing up the va.

porous air makes a void, and the wind had passed, and he, a man of strong

soul's ken there is an empty space ;- seen a ghost.” and our hopes and fears, in gentle The Italian was a poble, a soldier, gales or terrific whirlwinds, occupy the and by no means addicted to superstivacuum ; and if it does no more, it be- tion : he had served in Napoleon's arstows on the feeling heart a belief that mies from early youth, and had been influences do exist to watch and guard rewarded, and he uphesitatingly, and us, though they be impalpable to the with deep belief, recounted his story. coarser faculties.

This Chevalier, a young, and (someI have heard that when Coleridge what a miraculous incident) a gallant was asked if he believed in ghosts,-he Italian, was engaged in a duel with a replied that he had seen too many to brother officer, and wounded him in put any trust in their reality ; and the the arm. The subject of the duel was person of the most lively imagination frivolous; and distressed therefore at that I ever knew echoed this reply. its consequences he attended on his But these were not real ghosts (pardon, youthful adversary during his conseunbelievers, my mode of speech) that quent illness, so that when the latter they saw; they were shadows, phan- recovered they became firm and dear toms unreal; that while they appalled friends. They were quartered toge the senses, yet carried no other feeling ther at Milan, where the youth fell destu the mind of others than delusion and perately in love with the wise of a muwere viewed as we might view an optie sician, who disdained his passion, so cal deception which we see to be true that it preyed on his spirits and his with our eyes, and know to be false health ; he absented himself from all,

other shapes. The returning bride officers, and his only consolation was who claims the fidelity of her betrothed; to pour bis love-sick plaints into the murdered man who shakes to re- the ear of the Chevalier, who strove in morse the murderer's heart; ghosts vain to inspire him either with indifferthat lift the curtains at the foot of your ence towards the fair disdainer, or to bed as the clock chimes one ; who rise indulcate lessons of fortitude and heroall pale and ghastly from the church- ism. As a last resource he urged him yard and haunt their ancient abodes; to ask leave of absence; and to seek, who, spoken to, reply; and whose cold either in change of scene, or the ainuseunearthly touch makes the hair stand ment of hunting, some diversion to his stark upon the head; the true old-fash- passion. One evening the youth came ioned, foretelling, fitting, gliding to the Chevalier, and said, “ Well, I ghost, who has seen such a one ? have asked leave of absence, and am

I have known two persons who at to have it early to-morrow morning, so

believed in ghosts, for that they had tridges, for I shall go to hunt for a seen one. One of these was an En- fortnight.” The Chevalier gave him glishman, and the other an Italian.- what he asked; among the shot were a The former had lost a friend he dearly few bullets. ( I will take these also," loved, who for awhile appeared to him said the youth, " to secure myself nightly, gently stroking his cheek, and against the attack of any wolf, for I spreading a serene calm over his mind. mean to bury myself in the woods." He did not fear the appearance, altho’ Although he had obtained that for he was somewhat awe-stricken as each which he came, the youth still lingered. night it glided into his chamber, and, He talked of the cruelty of his lady, Ponsi del letto in su la sponda manca.

lamented that she would not even perThis visitation continued for several mit him a hopeless attendance, but that weeks, when by some accident he al- she inexorably banished him from her tered his residence, and then he saw it sight, so that,” said he, “ I have no no more. Such a tale may easily be hope but in oblivion.” At length he explained away ;--but several years rose to depart. He took the Cheva

tomorrow, you will speak to her, and pable to the touch, motionless, except hear her speak; tell her, I intreat you, in its advance, and made no sign when that our conversation to-night has been it Wus addressed. Once the Chevalier concerning her, and that her name was took a friend with him to the spot. the last that I spoke." "Yes, yes,” The same rustling was heard, the same cried the Chevalier, “ I will say any shadow stept forth, his companion filed thing you please ; but you must not in horror, but the Chevalier staid, vaintalk of her any more, you must forget ly endeavouring to discover what called her.” The youth embraced his friend his friend from his quiet tomb, and if with warmth, but the latter saw noth- any act of his might give repose to the ing more in it than the effects of his restless shade. affection, combined with his melancholy Such are my two stories, and I re, at absenting himself from his mistress, cord them the more willingly, since whose name joined to a tender farewell, they occurred to men, and to individuwas the last sound that he uttered. als distinguished the one for courage

When the Chevalier was on guard and the other for sagacity. I will conthat night, he heard the report of a clude my “i modern instances," with a gun. He was at first troubled and agi- story told by M. G. Lewis, not probatated by it, but afterwards thought no bly so authentic as these, but perhaps more about it, and when relieved from more amusing. I relate it as nearly as guard went to bed, although he passed possible in his own words. a restless, sleepless night. Early in " A gentleman journeying towards the morning some one knocked at his the house of a friend, who lived on door. It was a soldier. who said that the skirts of an extensive forest, in the he had got the young officer's leave of east of Germany, lost his way. He absence, and had taken it to his house : wandered for some time among the a servant bad admitted him, and he had trees, when he saw a light at a distance. gone op stairs, but the room door of On approaching it he was surprised to the officer was locked, and no one an- observe that it proceeded from the in. swered to bis knocking, but something terior of a ruined monastery. Before comed through from under the door he knocked at the gate he thought it that looked like blood. The Cheva- proper to look through the window. lier. agitated and frightened at this ac- He saw a number of cats assembled count, hurried to his friend's house, round a small grave, four of whom were burst open the door, and found him at that moment letting down a coffin stretched on the ground -he had blown with a crown upon it. The gentleman out his brains, and the body lay a head- startled at this unusual sight, and, imaless trunk, cold, and stiff.

gining that he had arrived at the The shock and grief wbich the Che retreats of tiends or witches, mounted valier experienced in consequence of bis horse and rode away with the utthis catastrophe produced a fever which most precipitation. He arrived at his lasted for some days. When he got friend's house at a late hour, who saté well, he obtained leave of absence, and up waiting for hiin. On his arrival bis

mind. One evening at moonlight, he of the traces of agitation visible in his was returning home from a walk, and face. He began to recount bis adven. passed through a lane with a hedge on tures after much hesitation, knowing both sides, so high that he could not see

that it was scarcely possible that his over them. The night was balmy ;

friend should give faith to his relation. the bushes cleamed with fireflies bricht. No sooner had he mentioned the coffin er than the stars which the moon bad with the crown upon it,than his friend's veiled with her silver light. Suddenly cat, who seemed to have been lying he beard a rustling near him, and the asleep before the fire,leaped up, crying fagure of his friend issued from the out,“ Then I am king of the cats :

od and then scrambled up the chimney, as be had seen him after his death and was never seen more.” This figure he saw several times, al

HIS LANDLADY. A FRAGMENT. *** W HEN at college himself he conjured up, I somewhat testily touched

had been a little gay, and the bell. remembering the consequences of his It was too long I thought of being own follies, was anxious that I should answered ; and I caught myself saying pay some attention to Edmund. “ slatternly wench,” as I again laid my

“I know your habits,” said he ; finger on the spring. 6 but what I mean by attention is not While the bell was sounding the secthat sort of hospitable kindness, which ond summons, the door was opened, not is apt to bring on the very evil I wish as I expected, by a sooty besmeared to guard against ; in a ward, I entreat drab, with dishevelled locks, and a for him the attention of an observant hearth brush in her hand, looking from eye-the eye of a censor-as well as behind the door, as if she expected a the occasional advice of a friend." thief, but by a little girl of some six or

Heaven knows how ill qualified T seven years old—the loveliest creature am by nature for any office of severity, I have ever seen, dressed with the most especially towards the aberrations of perfect simplicity, and her ringlets clusyoung men. Among the pleasantest iering all over her head, in curls as recollections of my youth, are many small, pretty, and natural, as the wool things that old age now told me were buds of the fleece of the lamb. very naughty, while it makes me sigh “ Is Mr. Edward Lumley at home, that I shall never perform them again. my dear ?" said I, patting her instinct

But how could I refuse such a re- ively on the head with, I know not quest?-I had not heard of Lumley wherefore, a sentiment of pity, as my for more than forty years, and to be so eye accidentally fell again on the ugly affectionately reminded of the follies new brass-plate with her mother's name. we had committed together-Follies ! “I don't know, but please to walk

what vile translations are made by into the parlour, and I will inquire, old age--and these same follies, the was the answer, delivered with an envery thing which, by the alchymy of gaging, modest, self-possession, and old companionship, had enriched me with an English accent, that seemed, with virtues, that made him anxious I if I may say so, appropriately in unishould superintend the education-rath- son with the beauty and gentleness of er let me say,the follies ! of his only son. the lovely fairy's air and appearance.

Accordingly next morning, immedi I accordingly followed her into the ately after breakfast, I went to Mrs. parlour, which I saw was newly furLesley's lodgings. She lived in a fourth nished. The carpet was new-the flat in George's Street, but I was so chairs were new, but the tables were buoyant with the hope of seeing a re- evidently second-hand, so was the grate newed, and, as I was led to believe, an and its appurtenances, even to the improved version of Lumley, that I hearth-rug. Every thing was perfectly felt neither gout nor age in ascending. suitable to the style of the room, exOn reaching the door, however, I was cept a few ornaments on the mantlerather startled to observe, not that it piece, consisting of neat toys, made of was newly painted, one of the common paper, ingeniously painted. They had lures of the season, but that the brass- more the character of ornaments for plate with the name was new, and seem- the mosaic tables of a boudoir, than for ingly fresh from the engraver.

the chimney-shelf of a boarding house I halted on the stairhead, and looks parlour ; an old squat spoutless chica ing at the plate before ringing the bell, tea-pot, with a cup or two, odiously resaid to myself, “ I do not like this-a minding one of senna, would have been new comer--inexperienced --short more appropriate ; but I thought of the commons, garnished with tales of better pretty creature that had gone to inquire days, won't do _" and with a slight for young Lumley, and I said to myself, degree of fervency, the natural excite- thinking no more of his comforts, but ment of the ideas which the brass had only of the family,“ They are begin

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ners, and will learn before the winter is nent certainly, but the feeling which over to dispense with these gew-gaws.” dictated them, lent, I presume, so fitAt that moment a cold fit came upon ting an accent to their earnestness, that me; I thought of the blooming child, they neither gave offence, nor implied and I looked again at those tasteful or- any thing derogatory to the elegant and naments.

unfortunate widow to whom they were “ I hope in God,” said I,“ that she addressed. has no sister capable of making and “I am not surprised at your wonder," painting such things~ This house will said she, “ for I do sometimes think never do, if Edmund has much of his myself that I am not very properly at father in him.”

home here. But what can a friendless While I was thus relapsing into the woman do? without fortune, and with peevish humour in which I had first children that -touched the bell, the parlour door was She could say no more-the tears opened by a tall and elegant gentlewo- rushed into her eyes and emotion sti. man, in the weeds of a widow. It was fled what she would have added. Mrs. Lesley; she was about five-and- After a brief pause, I mustered conthirty, probably not so old ; but no fidence enough to address her again, one, seeing her, for the first time, would 6 I entreat your pardon, madam, and I ever have thought of her age, there hope you will not think me impertinent was so much of an ever-green spirit in for saying, that your appearance, and the liveliness of her look, and the beau- the business in which you have emtiful intelligence of her eye-what she barked, are so sadly at variance, that I said about Edmund I do not recollect, should account myself wanting in the nor do I believe that I heard it, so performance of a grave duty, if I did much was I entranced by the appear- not ask for some explanation.” ance of such a lady in a condition so “ It is natural you should," said she, humble.

wiping the tear from her cheek ; " and I imagine that she saw my embar- two words will satisfy you—'pride and rassment, for she requested me to be poverty.' Pride has brought me to seated, and agaio said something about Edinburgh, because I am bere unher boarder, adding, with an apparent known, and poverty has induced me to equanimity that was exceedingly touch try this mode of” -her voice struggled, ing, “ He has gone to bring a friend

but she soon subdued the emotion, and here, who arrived from Westmoreland

added, “ for my children. I have four last night; for as yet I have got but two boys older, and one girl younger, himself."

than my little house-maid.” " Is it possible ?" said I, not well 6 House-maid !" said I, almost with knowing what I said.

the alarm of consternation. “I am sorry it is true," replied she She smiled again, but it was such a with a smile ; but there was a despon- smile that tears were inadequate to exdency in the tone that ill accorded with press the sadness of heart which it bethe gaiety of the look, and she added tokened. “ It is even so,” said she, seriously, “ I must, however, try a lit- « for, until I obtain another boarder, I tle longer. If Mr. Lumley brings his cannot venture to engage a regular serfriend, perhaps his friend may bring vant. The little money which I raised another. It is in this way I expect to by the sale of my trinkets is all I have, succeed, for I have no friends to recom- and the purchase of these few necessamend me.”

ries, (glar.cing her eye round the room,) “ Good heavens! madam,” exclaim- has made, I assure you, no small in. ed I, no longer able to suppress the road on it.” emotion with which I was affected, “ Heavens! madam,—and if you “ how is it that you are in this condi- do not get boarders, and it run out,what tion ?-how have you come here, and is to become of you ?" was my silly exwithout friends ? Who are you? clamation, being by this time quite bewhat are you?"

i side myself. The latter questions were imperti- She looked at me for some time.

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