“My dear Miss Edith,” I said, compassionately, “calm yourself; pray reflect. I can’t, I daren’t leave you to die. Be persuaded, and take only a little harmless, quieting medicine, not nauseous to the taste, and which may not have the effect of making you cease to dream.”

But my fair patient was not to be persuaded, so, with hat in hand, I made another step towards the door. “Stay, doctor,” she said; “whatever you do, keep our conversation secret from the people of the house.”

“Certainly,” said I. “Has it not been under the ‘seal of confession!’” “True, true,” she said; “and, doctor-would you mind-if you are really going to call upon-Charles, to-to-take a relic to him of me?” “Not at all,” I said. “On the contrary, I should be most happy; but-” I said, after a moment’s reflection, “but-your parents-would they object, do you think?” “Oh, don’t be afraid, doctor,” she replied. “I am very independent, and as for yourself, your name needn’t get mixed up in the transaction.”

Here she reached a pair of scissors, and severed one of her long ebony tresses, which she handed to me with these words: “Take this,” she said, “to my spirit lover, and tell him Edith sends him this in the flesh, and hopes to see him again in the spirit.”

[86]

I promised I would do as she desired, and shaking hands with her, I left the apartment. My friend and his wife awaited me in the parlour, and asked me my opinion of their daughter’s case. I gave them hope of her recovery; but told them that she had positively refused to take any of my medicines, and I therefore adopted the same manœuvre that I had adopted with Charles, and was forced to leave the medicine to be administered clandestinely. I wrote out a prescription and left the house, saying I would call again in a day or two. I took the mail that evening, and started for London. Finding myself at length arrived in the great metropolis, my first thought was to call upon Charles. As I entered his chamber the expression on my patient’s countenance was one of deepest melancholy. When he first caught sight of me I thought he looked suspicious, and was going to turn away, but as I approached him his countenance altogether changed, and grew so bright and radiant, that he did not look the same man. He had never welcomed me before in this way, and his manner puzzled me. “Oh, doctor,” he cried, in tones of the greatest joy, “is it possible you have seen her? I know you have; I can’t be mistaken.”

“Seen who?” I asked, smiling. “Come, doctor,” he said “you know all about it; don’t pretend to ignore–” “Ignore what?” I enquired, with provoking pertinacity.[87]

“Oh, doctor, doctor! you’ll drive me mad,” exclaimed my patient. “Tell me all about her at once, and keep me no longer in suspense. Oh, Edith! Edith! I feel your presence. Come, doctor, tell me about Edith.”

“What Edith?” I exclaimed. “Are there not many of that name? It is true I do come from a young lady patient whose name happens to be Edith. What then?” “The same! I knew it, I knew it,” he cried. “Tell me all about her, doctor; you have seen her, and spoken to her. Oh! we may yet meet in the flesh, even if she be denied me in the spirit. Did you tell her of my case, doctor?” I nodded my head. “I told her,” said I, “that I was attending a young man whose symptoms very much resembled her own. Oh! I had a long talk with her, I assure you; and what do you think she wants of me?” I asked. “Why, she was actually unfeeling enough to ask me not to cure you; she was, indeed.”

“My own dear Edith!” he exclaimed. “Of course she doesn’t want me cured; and, doctor, if you would do both her and me a kindness, don’t-oh, don’t-cure her.”

“Well, you’re an amiable couple, I’m fancying,” said I. “I wonder whether there are many more such loving couples in the world as you two.”

“Well, doctor,” he said, smiling, “have you any more news for me?”[88]

“Perhaps I may have,” I answered, mysteriously. “What should you say if she entrusted me with a present to you?” “A present from her! Oh, doctor, don’t trifle with me. Is it really so?” Hereupon I thrust my hand into my pocket, and produced the lock of hair, wrapped up in a piece of tissue paper. He made a snatch at it with his long lean fingers, and tearing it open, exclaimed, “Her hair! I could swear to it anywhere. What did she say, doctor, when she gave this into your hands?” “She said,” said I, “‘Take this to my spirit lover, and tell him Edith sends him this in the flesh, and hopes to see him again in the spirit.’” “Bless her! bless her!” he cried, enthusiastically kissing the relic repeatedly and pressing it to his heart. I allowed this transport to pass well over before I spoke again. At length I enquired how he had passed the night. “Badly,” he replied, sulkily. “What! have you not felt quieter, more composed?” “Oh, yes,” he answered; “you don’t suppose that I am ignorant that you have been drugging me?” he said, casting at me a look of reproach. “Drugging you?” I exclaimed. “Yes; did you think I couldn’t taste that stuff that you got my parents to give me through all its disguise? Do you think I did not feel its influence?” “A salutary influence only, I hope,” I answered,[89]

being forced at length to admit the stratagem that I had felt it my duty to adopt. “What you would call a salutary influence,” he retorted. “But do you know,” he added, almost fiercely, “that you have robbed me of those dreams that constituted the better part of my life? In fact, my real, my only life.”

“I am sorry for that,” I remarked. “Do you then not dream at all now?” “If I dream, I do but dream-like all ordinary mortals, but my second existence is closed, I fear, for ever. I will tell you what I dreamt last night. I walked towards the entrance of a beautiful garden where I had often been in the habit of meeting Edith, and I found the gate closed. I shook it, and tried to open it by main force, when I noticed something written over the gate. I read these words, ‘This is the abode of spirits untrammelled by the flesh.’ “I did not know other than that I was as much in the spirit as on any of the preceding nights, so I tried the gate again, only to meet with the same success; but this time I heard a voice calling out, ‘Thy flesh hath grown upon thy spirit-the doors of thy soul are closed-hence! back to earth!’ I made one more desperate effort, and called out, ‘Edith! Edith!’ but my voice went forth from me weak, like a voice in the distance. Nevertheless, my cry was answered. I heard Edith’s voice within the garden calling out my name, but in very feeble tones. My ears were too grossly clogged with[90]

flesh to hear distinctly spiritual sounds. I was aware of Edith’s presence. She shook the garden gate with her hands and spoke to me through the bars, but I saw no form. I heard only her voice. “‘Come to me,’ she said, in what appeared a suppressed whisper. ‘Oh, what is this, Charles? Why cannot you come?’ “Then the same unknown voice that had addressed me before spoke again, ‘Spirit to spirit-flesh to flesh!’ and I felt myself whirled back from the garden gate as by a whirlwind, and I awoke.”

“The dream is strange,” I observed. “Have you many such dreams?” I asked. “Up to the present time, thank goodness, no; but who knows if to-night I shall be able to dream at all?” “You will sleep all the sounder if you don’t. Dreams always come when the sleep is disturbed,” said I. “Doctor, would you rob me of all I have to live for by your drugs?” he exclaimed. “I should be sorry,” I replied, “if my drugs have the unfortunate effect of robbing you of pleasant dreams; but it is my first duty as a medical man to remedy the physical ills of my patients.”

“Well, no more drugs for me, that’s all,” he said, positively. “The next article of food I take that tastes in the slightest degree of physic I shall certainly throw away.”

“In that case,” I replied, “if there is no way of[91]

administering medicine to you, this must be my last visit. It is useless calling on a patient who refuses to be cured.”

“Well, doctor,” he said, “I shall be sorry to lose you, as your conversation serves to cheer my waking death. Of course, I can’t expect you to put yourself out of the way to come here for nothing; but if at any time you are not better employed, just drop in as a friend.”

“Well,” I said, “I should not like to drop an acquaintance so interesting. But, the subject of medicine apart, you really must take a little more nutriment than you do.”

This was what was really the matter with him. The body was worn away through insufficient diet, till the patient was in a state bordering on starvation; and this had been for a long time persisted in, as the invalid found a morbid delight in those vivid dreams peculiar to all people who practise long fasting; and so loth was he to give up his beloved dreamland, that he was ready to sacrifice life itself. We chatted together for some time longer, and he related to me many of his dreams, which were all of a most extraordinary character. At length I got up to go, saying I would call on the morrow, and entered the parlour where the parents of the young man were seated. They asked me how my patient progressed. I told them he wanted plenty of nutriment, and, without ordering further medicine, I told them to give him[92]

plenty of mutton broth, beef tea, and other nutritious things, and to put them as close to his bed as possible, that the smell of the savoury food might awaken his appetite. They promised to comply with my request, and I quitted the house. I had one or two other cases to attend to after that, which interested me in a much less degree, after which I returned home, and committed to paper the leading peculiarities of the cases of Charles and Edith. In the course of the morrow I called again upon Charles. I thought he looked better. There was certainly a change in him since my first visit. “Well,” I asked, “and how did you sleep last night?” “Oh, doctor!” he answered, “such a dream!” “Well, come, what was it?” “I thought,” he began, “that I was again in search of that garden gate that I have before alluded to, but when I came in sight of it it was no longer distinct and tangible as on the preceding night, but misty in outline, and as I approached it seemed to recede and grew more misty, as if I saw it through a fog. The fog grew more and more dense, like an immense black cloud, and I saw nothing. Then the cloud seemed to solidify, and it turned to a solid wall of stone, and I found myself suddenly enclosed within what looked like the courtyard of a prison. I looked out for some loophole, but all attempt at escape appeared impossible. My eye[93]

soon caught an inscription on the wall, which ran thus, ‘The boundary of the body.’ “‘What,’ I said, within myself, ‘can my spirit no longer soar into those blissful realms it was wont formerly to revel in? Must I tamely submit to this imprisonment without one effort? No,’ I said; ‘never will I basely give in thus.’ And, noticing a wide chink between the stones, I placed the tip of my foot in. I soon found another notch for my fingers. There was no one near, so, finding higher up another chink, I put the other foot in that, and after considerable difficulty and danger, succeeded in reaching the top of the wall. I found that the prison was built on a high rock in the middle of the sea, and guarded by demon sentinels. “I looked out into the distance. There was nothing but sea and sky, and that, too, seemed so blended together as to appear all one element. In whatever direction I chanced to gaze, all was vast, infinite, indefinable. “‘Yonder must be the realms of the spirit,’ I muttered to myself, as I lolled upon the summit of the prison wall. The words I uttered fell upon the ear of a demon sentinel below, armed with a long halberd. He raised the alarm, and I was forced to descend from my perch. Finding myself once more in the prison yard, I heard rapid footsteps behind me, and the jingling of keys. I turned round suddenly and beheld the jailor. “‘What is this place?’ I asked, somewhat sternly, ‘and why am I here?’[94]

“‘This building,’ answered the jailor, ‘is called the prison-house of flesh, and the reason you are here is that you belong to “our sort.”

‘ “I groaned, and followed the jailor, who led me below into some horrid cell, where the daylight scarce entered. He turned the key upon me and I awoke.”

“Dear me,” said I, “that was a very disagreeable dream. There was nothing about Miss Edith in that,” I said, smiling wickedly. “No,” he said, savagely, “and whose face do you think the jailor’s was in my dream?” “I have no idea,” I replied. “Why, yours, doctor!” said the young man, suddenly starting up with extreme energy, and darting a look of ferocity towards me. “Yes, doctor, you are my jailor; it is you who have closed my spirit up in its prison-house of flesh, so that it can no longer soar together in the company of the higher intelligences. It is you who have driven me back again to earth and made me an equal of such minds as your own. You have robbed me of the only woman I ever loved in my life, you–” “Stay, young man, one moment,” I said, “and calm yourself. Is this your gratitude for the relic I brought you yesterday? If I, as you say, have robbed you of one of your lives, don’t I offer you another which to a young man of your age and position is a state of existence that I can’t say how many would envy, and which, after all, is doing nothing more than[95]

my duty as a medical man. Then, as to robbing you of the lady you love, haven’t I the power of making you acquainted with her some day in the flesh, if all goes well, and I succeeded in curing you both?” “If such a meeting should take place, do you think,” he said, “that we should experience in the same intense degree those chaste joys of love, as if we were in the spirit, when our souls, unfettered from any particle of clay, are raised to that sublime pitch that we are enabled to understand the profound and lofty discourse of angels and become ourselves for the time a part of the heavenly bodies?” “My dear young man,” I observed, “life is short. If the paradise you are in the habit of entering in your dreams be indeed that place where all good souls hope to go after death, you have but to wait for a few years–” “Wait a few years!” he exclaimed, impatiently, “when every minute spent away from her appears a century! It’s very plain you are not in love.”

“In the meantime,” I said, “content yourself with a life of flesh like any other rational mortal.”

He began to reflect upon my words, so I thought I would improve the opportunity, and, if possible, try and make him turn human, so I observed, “I shall not be here to-morrow; I am going to visit Miss Edith. Shall I take her any message?” “Oh, yes, doctor, certainly, by all means; that is, I’ll write. Give me some paper, pen and ink.”

[96]

Having handed him these materials, he sat up in bed and penned an epistle to his lady-love in the flesh, which he sealed and handed to me. I assured him of its safety in my hands, and took my leave of him for some days, hoping to find him more reconciled to humanity on my return. Having given the parents of Charles further instructions with regard to their son, I took my departure, and shortly afterwards taking the stage, was en route for my friend’s country seat, where I arrived early the next morning. “And how is our patient?” I asked, as I shook hands with my friend at the threshold. “I fancy she sleeps sounder, doctor,” he replied. “We are not so often disturbed by her talking in her sleep.”

“Good,” said I; “her nerves will be getting a little stronger. Can I see her?” “Oh, yes; walk straight to her room.”

As I entered, my patient was sitting up in bed, reading. “Ah!” said I, after the customary salutations, “we are better this morning, eh?” “Oh, doctor, is that you? I am glad you have come.”

“What book is that?” I asked, at the same time looking at the title. “Ah! Shakespeare. That is Charles’ favourite author.”

“I know it, doctor. Oh, how often have we read it together; but now, alas!”[97]

“Why alas?” asked I. “Ah, doctor,” she replied, shaking her head slowly, “I never see him now. You are curing him, and me, too. Of what value to me is a body in perfect health, when it imprisons within it a wounded soul?” “Come, let me see if I can’t bring some balm to the wounded soul,” I said, producing from my pocket Charles’ letter. “From him?” she exclaimed. “Oh, doctor, I shall be for ever grateful to you. I dreamt I received a letter from him last night. How is he-better? Stay, let me read.”

She tore open the letter and read in an undertone, just loud enough for me to hear: “Angel of my dreams-Charles in the flesh pens thee these poor lines, greeting. How art thou, now shut from me! The doors of the body have closed upon my spirit, and I feel that I no more belong to the same order of beings as a few nights ago. For me now thou may’st wait in vain in the garden, by the trysting tree, in the wild forest, by the sea shore, in the desert, by the foaming cataract, on the bleak mountain top, or by moonlight on the crags of the wild glacier, wherever the wings of thy spirit may carry thee. I cannot follow thee. I linger in chains of clay, and languish from day to day in my prison-house of flesh, whilst thou– But, stay, perhaps the lot I bear may be thy own; perhaps the doors of the flesh may have closed upon thy spirit also. Oh, if it be that our souls are for[98]

ever banished from that Paradise which they have so often revelled in together! What have we further to look forward to but those earthly joys known to the most grovelling mortal? This is a melancholy prospect, my Edith, for us who remember (however, indistinctly-from the growth of that clay-over thy spirit perchance, as well as my own) those divine joys we experienced together when our spirits walked untrammelled from our bonds of clay and our souls melted into the harmony of those spheres which are their proper element. How the weight of this mortal coil oppresses me as I write! I can think of nothing that is untainted with the gross material nature that surrounds me. My dreams of late confirm my horrible suspicions. When, the other night, I sought thee at the garden gate, where enter only spirits untrammelled by the flesh, didst thou hear that voice that turned me away, and bid me return to earth? Oh! Edith, let us both make another effort before it is too late. Perhaps even now–” Here the patient dropped her voice, and her eye scanned the paper in silence, from which I inferred that there was something about myself in it that she did not wish me to know; but I had heard enough. Charles wanted to persuade his lady-love to battle against all my efforts to bring her round to a proper state of health, and intended doing the same himself. Here was a regular conspiracy-two patients already all but on the point of death, had leagued together to starve themselves outright, and so baffle all the doctor’s efforts to[99]

save them. Oh, it was downright suicide. I did not know exactly what to do. “This is the last time I’ll act as Mercury between two lovers,” thought I. I had a momentary thought of watching for an opportunity to get the letter into my hands, unobserved by my patient after she had finished reading it, and then of crumpling it up abstractedly, and throwing it into the fire, as it was winter and a large fire was made up in the patient’s room, thinking that the impression might wear off her mind after having read the letter only once; but how might not her lover’s words influence her if she were allowed to read and re-read his letter when left alone? No opportunity, however, presented itself, for after she had finished reading it she kissed it fervently and placed it in her bosom and held it there, glancing at me rather suspiciously, as I thought, as if she read my intentions in my face; but this might have been fancy. However, I tried what I could do in the way of argument, to show the advantage of keeping a sound mind in a sound body, besides pointing out the probability of her some day-perhaps before long-meeting her lover in the flesh, and that there was no reason why they need not eventually be happy. I talked to her much of Charles, and hoped to see her again soon, though I should not call so very often now, as my visits would not be necessary. I left her, giving instructions to her parents to administer to her all sorts of nutritious[100]

food, as I had done to the parents of Charles concerning their son. I let some little time pass over before I called upon either of my lover-patients again. I at length called upon Charles, and found him all but recovered. Though still weak, his face had filled out considerably, and his nerves were no longer so morbidly acute, and his countenance had lost to a great extent that supernatural look that characterised it on my first visit; still, it was far from being the face of a man in robust health. I thought him silent and reserved towards me, but when I told him I had delivered his letter, and talked to him of his lady-love, he brightened up a little. I told him I should take the stage on the morrow to visit Edith. He wanted me to take another letter, but I pleaded great hurry and escaped from the house. When I saw Edith again, she also had improved in health immensely, thanks to the careful watching of my friend’s wife, who was like a real mother to her, and would not allow her to starve herself. Seeing her so nearly recovered, I recommended a little change of air as soon as convenient. Upon my departure Edith managed to slip a billet-doux into my hand, directed to Charles; that is to say, without address, for I had not told her where he lived. We were not left alone on this interview, the wife of my friend being present all the while, so the note had to be passed into my hand clandestinely. There was no getting out of it, and I had to deliver it to[101]

Charles as soon as I arrived in town. His eyes sparkled when he saw her writing. “Look here, what Edith says about you!” said he, somewhat bitterly. He read as follows: “Dearest Charles,-Your own true Edith writes to you in the flesh by our common but well-meaning enemy, Dr. Bleedem.”

“There!” he said, “that’s what she thinks of you.”

“Enemy!” I cried, in astonishment. “Yes, enemy; but well-meaning, you see, she says,” he continued, in a softened tone. He then continued to read: “The poor man thinks, no doubt, that he has achieved a great thing in bringing us privileged seers into the world of spirits back into this mundane sphere, fit only for beings of his order. Of course, what else could be expected of him? The nature of his profession, the grossness of his being, compel him to think and act in the way of grovelling mortals; but let us not be too hard upon him; he is a good man, and means well.”

“There!” he observed, “you see, she is charitably disposed towards you. I don’t know that I feel disposed to be so lenient.”

At this odd beginning of a love-letter, and still odder allusion to myself, I fairly burst out laughing. “Oh! laugh away,” he said; “it is a fine triumph to rob two beings of the very essence of their happiness.”

I had not done laughing, and he was nearly catching[102]

the infection. He observed in the words of his favourite poet, that, my lungs did crow like chanticleer, and I did laugh sans intermission. He took up the letter again, and read a great portion to himself, or half aloud. I caught the following passage: “Do you remember, Charles, when, in the early days of our courtship, you used nightly to serenade me under my window in the enchanted castle, and how long it was before you knew that I, like yourself, had an earthly body that had an existence of its own? And when I told you that my parents-or rather, my adopted parents-were not in the land of spirits, but that they inhabited the same world in which, in the daytime, we ourselves were forced to vegetate; and when you thereupon asked me with whom I shared the castle, do you remember the horror, the rage, and indignation you felt when you heard that I was held captive within that enchanted castle by a horrible wizard, who tortured me and tried all his base arts to make me yield to his love? Oh! Charles, I often look back to that time. I can see the bold outline of that rude, massive building on a rock frowning on the lake below. I feel myself yet at my casement, gazing out in search of your bark, which passed nightly close to my window, and I fancy I hear your touch upon the lute reverberating through the night air. “With what horror I remember being torn from my window on that night by my captor, as I was waving my[103]

handkerchief to you on the lake. Oh! the torture I underwent within those unhallowed walls after you left me; the scenes I was compelled to witness, the oaths I was forced to hear; and then the infernal hideousness of the countenance of my demon captor! “Oh! Charles, shall I ever forget the night on which you rode up to the wizard’s castle on a spirit charger, habited as a cavalier, and bearing a ladder of ropes under your mantle which you reached up to me on the point of your lance; how I descended, and you placed me behind you on your steed and galloped away; how, ere we were far from the castle, my flight was discovered, and the wizard and all his demon host mounted their demon chargers and started in pursuit of us; how they gained on us; how we avoided them for miles by hardly half-a-horse’s length, until we arrived at a bridge across a river of fire, over which none but the pure in love can pass? Dost remember, Charles, how bravely thy spirit charger bore us over in safety, and how, when the fell magician endeavoured to follow us with his evil crew, how the bridge tumbled to atoms, and the demon host was swallowed up in the fiery waves? Then how, when our charger was spent, we turned him out to graze, the sun having risen; and how, having arrived at the sea shore, we found a boat, which we entered, and steered onward in search of further adventure. How swiftly, how gallantly we sailed, as if borne on by the good spirits, until we reached an island, where the inhabitants welcomed us and claimed us as[104]

their king and queen. Charles! do you remember all this? But why call up all these reminiscences? They are over now, and passed as a dream, and this hence-forward must be our life. I know nothing of your life in the flesh, my spirit lover, or what may be your social position in this world. No matter, whatever it be, and in spite of whatever obstacles may raise themselves to our happiness in this vale of tears, remember that I am ever thine in the spirit, “Edith L–.”

Having concluded, he folded up the letter, kissed it, and pressed it to his heart. “And do you remember all the details of that strange adventure alluded to by Miss Edith, as having happened to you both? Do you remember really having taken part in this strange romance in another phase of existence?” I asked. “Certainly I do,” he replied; “every particular of it.”

“Strange!” I muttered, to myself. “Then these dreams, as we ordinary mortals would say, are really to such beings as yourself facts-phases of another existence,” I remarked. “Precisely so,” said he. “Then your being king of an island was no mere phantasy,” said I; “but as much a fact–” “As much a fact as that while in the flesh I am a poor devil,” he replied. “Well, I never thought I should have a royal patient,” I observed, smiling.[105]

“Ah!” he said, “now do you see the extent of the wrong that you have done me? You have robbed me of a kingdom in bringing me back to health.”

“Many a sick monarch would be glad to exchange his kingdom for good health,” I retorted. This was almost my last visit to Charles. I did call again, but it was long after he had completely recovered. Months passed away, when one day I casually met Charles in the streets. He had quite recovered, and was looking very well. He had much to tell me, so, as I had a little spare time on hand, we strolled into the park, and being a hot day, we sat down together beneath the shade of a tree in a solitary spot. He seemed to have grown more reconciled to humanity, having now only a dim recollection of the intensity of the joys he used to experience in his dreams. I touched upon the subject nearest his heart, and he commenced a recital of all that had happened to him since we last met. I shall endeavour to give his own words as nearly as possible. “You will remember, doctor,” he began, “that you left me without giving me the address of Miss L–” (Edith took the surname of my friend the squire, as if she were his own daughter, her real name being unknown). “I called upon you afterwards on purpose to inquire, and was informed that you were out of town. I had no one now to apply to for information, and was in despair. I did not know what to do with myself in town during the summer, so I thought I would try[106]

a little country air. I loitered about first in one country place, then in another, without any fixed purpose. I had been reading Shakespeare one day, and upon closing the book, I resolved I would take a pilgrimage to the birth place of the great Swan of Avon. “I had never yet visited this retreat, so I started at once, and determined to put up in the village for some time. With what a thrill of delight, awe, and enthusiasm I crossed the threshold of that humble domicile! His foot had once crossed that same spot! Here was the window that he used to look out of. The identical glass, too, all carefully preserved by a network of wire. His table and his chair! There was something magical to me in that low-roofed chamber, with its old-fashioned beams. “This, then, was the birthplace of that giant brain destined to illumine the world with the rays of his genius! Who knows how many plays had been conceived and worked out within those four walls? To me, the spot was hallowed ground. I could not inscribe my name on those sacred panels. It seemed almost sacrilege for me to sit down in his chair, but I did so; and begged to be left alone for a time, that I might meditate on the life and genius of the greatest of poets. “It was not without a feeling of regret that I tore myself away from this hallowed shrine. I wandered through the almost deserted streets, and read the names over the village shops. ‘William Shakespeare’[107]

here caught my eye; ‘John Shakespeare’ there; descendants, no doubt, of the great poet. Shakespeare seemed a common name here. I wondered whether any of them inherited his genius. No matter, it would be something to say that one was descended from so great a man, without possessing any further recommendation. I called upon a certain William Shakespeare, and inquired into his pedigree. He seemed a very ordinary sort of personage. He did not appear to know, nor yet to care much, if he were really descended from the bard or no. There was no genius about him. I called upon another, and then another, bearing the name of the poet, but could not discover the slightest spark of the fire that kindled the soul of the great dramatist in any one of them. I strolled on to the church, and visited the tomb. A sensation of awe crept over me as I read the simple couplet engraved over the vault containing the ashes of the bard: Blessed be he who spares these stones, And cursed be he who moves my bones. “I shuddered to think of the awful consequences that might ensue to the sacrilegious hand that should dare move his honoured dust. There was his effigy placed within a niche in the wall of the church, high up above the heads of the congregation, and gave the idea of being placed in a sort of pulpit. The bust was but a rude work of art, but it had the reputation of being the only authentic likeness of the poet; and, therefore,[108]

it was with intense interest that I scanned the features. I fancied that I could descry, in spite of the rude workmanship of the stonemason, certain lines about the mouth and eyes that indicated that droll humour displayed in his comedies. I stood rooted to the spot. “Around me were the tombs of the Lucy family; close to the poet’s own dust the graves of his wife and daughter. But let me hasten to the more important point in my narrative. “After I left the church I was shown the dead of the Lucy family, and obtained permission to wander over the grounds. ‘In that house,’ I said to myself, ‘lives the lineal descendant of that squire before whom the bard was brought for poaching, and whom afterwards he is supposed to have caricatured under the title of “Justice Shallow.”

‘ “I wandered alone through the forest of Arden, and seemed to imbibe inspiration from the surrounding scenery. I called up scenes from ‘As you like it,’ and other plays. I sat down on the grass in a wooded spot, and watched the deer. “‘Here,’ I thought, to myself, ‘must be the spot where the melancholy Jacques moralised on the wounded deer. Yonder, perhaps, where he met the fool in the forest.’ I mused awhile, and then opened my Shakespeare at the scene of Rosalind and Celia, followed by Touchstone, and became deeply engrossed. “I might have been half-an-hour poring over this scene, when I lifted my eyes from my book and beheld[109]

coming towards me in the distance the slim and graceful form of a lady, reading a book which was bound in the same fashion as the book I was reading, and which, therefore, I concluded must be a Shakespeare. She approached with her eyes still fixed on the book. At length, as I gazed on her she closed the book, and her eyes met mine. “‘Edith!’ I cried, ‘do I dream still, or is it indeed yourself in the flesh?’ “She was no less surprised than myself. “‘Charles!’ she exclaimed, ‘how have you tracked me hither? Did you know of–’ “‘Tracked you, Edith!’ I exclaimed. ‘I knew nothing of your whereabouts. This is the hand of Fate.’ “‘Oh, Charles, is it possible!’ she cried. ‘To think that we should live to meet in the flesh.’ “We embraced, and strolled under the trees together. “‘Shall I awake from this,’ I kept saying to myself, ‘and find it also a dream?’ “We both of us began to doubt whether we were sleeping or waking. She informed me that her adopted parents, for she was a foundling, as I learnt, had taken her with them, away from home for the summer for change of air; and, as she had often expressed a wish to visit the spot where she had been first picked up by her present parents when a baby of a week old, she begged Squire and Mrs. L– to take her to Stratford-on-Avon, a place of double interest to her.[110]

“She invited me to her house, and introduced me to the squire and his lady, who both remarked how much we resembled each other in feature. I frequented the house much, and Edith and I were in the habit of taking long walks together. It is hardly necessary to say that I was not introduced as the young man Edith used to meet in her dreams. The tale would have been too startling, and would not have been credited; and yet Edith had been so entirely under the surveillance of her parents, that it was impossible for her to have formed an acquaintance with anyone without their knowledge, so I had to trump up some story-indeed, I scarce know what-about rescuing her from a bull, just to account for our acquaintance. “We were left much alone. Little did the parents think what an old attachment ours was; and for a long time I thought the squire looked favourably on my suit, but when matters were advanced so far that I demanded her in marriage, he drew up stiffly, and inquired into the state of my finances. I boasted of my family, but was obliged to own that as far as money-matters went, I was afraid that by my own fortune I could hardly hope to keep his adopted daughter in that style to which she had been accustomed. “He hummed and hawed; but Edith broke in, begged and wept, saying she had never loved before, and vowed that she never would love another. At length the squire, with some reluctance, gave his consent, but said that I must find something to get my[111]

own living, and I am consequently looking out for some mercantile employment. “‘To such base uses must we come at last,’” he quoted, with a sigh. “Yes,” said I, “rather a come-down from a king; but, never mind what it is, as long as it pays well.”

I saw him wince at this speech of mine; his romantic nature revolted against all thoughts of making money, however pressing his needs might be. We parted, and I called upon him about a week after, when I found he was making grand preparations for his marriage. He informed me that he had got his eye upon some appointment, but that he should have to wait. There was a certain air of sadness about his face still. He did not look like a man about to be married. “Doctor,” said he, “do you know what I have been thinking of late?” “No,” I replied. “I have been thinking that this marriage of mine will never come off,” he said. “Why?” I asked. “Have you had some lovers’ quarrel?” “No,” he replied. “Why, then? Has the squire changed his mind, after having given his consent?” I demanded. “No; nor that either,” he replied. “I cannot myself give you my reason for the fancy-it is a presentiment. You know, ‘the course of true love never did run smooth.’”[112]

“Oh!” said I, soothingly, “that is your fancy; you are nervous and impatient-it is natural.”

“No, no!” he said; “I am sure of it-I feel it.”

“What! Have you been dreaming that it would not?” “No; I never dream now,” he replied. “I am glad to hear it,” I observed; “it is a good sign. When does the wedding take place?” “To-morrow was the day appointed, but it won’t take place, I say. Mark my word.”

“So soon! But what can have put it into your head that it will not take place to-morrow? Do you know of any impediment likely to occur between this and then?” “No,” he replied; “none for certain, but I tell you, once for all, it will not take place.”

I did not know exactly what to make of this strange monomania. My suspicions were again aroused as to the brain being affected. I did not see what could happen to hinder the marriage, so I left him, after cheering him as much as I possibly could, determining within myself to call upon him as soon after his marriage as was convenient, to triumph over him and laugh at his presentiments; but this was the last time I ever saw Charles. Shortly after this, my last, visit I was glancing rapidly over the paper at breakfast when I was shocked to see among the list of deaths the name of Charles –, aged twenty-four. Strange enough; I had been dreaming[113]

of him much the night previous. What was my surprise and dismay when, looking lower down the column, I saw also the death of Edith L–. I looked at the date of both deaths. To my still further surprise, both lovers had departed this life at exactly the same hour-at midnight, October 12th, 17-. “What a strange coincidence,” I thought. “What strange beings both of them were! They did not appear either to belong to or to be fitted for this world. They were evidently never destined for an earthly lot together.”

“The hand of providence is in this,” I muttered. I grieved much for the loss of my two patients, for I had conceived quite a fatherly affection for them both. As soon as decency would permit, I called upon the parents of Charles. The account they gave of the reason of his death caused me no little surprise. It appeared that on the eve of his marriage his mother received a badly-written and ill-spelt letter from a person who professed to have known the family a long time, begging her to call upon the writer, who was then in a dying state, and had an important communication to make. Mrs. –, curious to know who the writer could be, called at the address given in the letter, which proved to be a miserable hovel in one of the back slums of London. There, stretched upon a wretched pallet, lay the squalid and emaciated form of an old woman, whom, after some difficulty, Mrs. – recognised as the[114]

monthly nurse who attended her four and twenty years ago, during her confinement. “Who are you?” asked Mrs. –. “Look at me. Do you recollect me now?” inquired the hag. “How should I? I never saw you before. Stay, your features seem to grow more familiar to me, now my eyes get accustomed to the light. Is it possible you can be Sarah Maclean, the midwife who–” “The same,” responded the hag. “What would you of me?” inquired Mrs. –. “I have a communication to make before I die,” said the old woman. “Listen.”

And she began her confession in feeble tones, thus: “You were not aware, ma’am, that the day before your son was born, I myself was confined with twins-a boy and a girl. Being called upon the next day to attend upon you, I waited to see if your child were a male child or a female. Finding that it was a man-child, I took advantage of the agony I saw you were in, deeming that my act would never be discovered. I managed to conceal my own child under my shawl, and so contrived to substitute my child for your own.”

“Wretch!” cried Mrs. –, gasping. “Stay; hear me out. I’ve got more to tell,” continued the hag. “Your own son died shortly after you had given him birth, through my neglect-I admit it.”

“Murderess!” screamed Mrs. –.[115]

“Bear with me yet awhile,” said the midwife, “while I have still breath left to confess all. I wished that one of my children should do well in the world, and I adopted the stratagem I have just confessed to you. “As for my other child, being a girl, I was anxious to get her off my hands as soon as possible, so I left her at the foot of a tree near Stratford-on-Avon, where I myself was born.”

“What have I to do with all your other crimes, wicked woman?” exclaimed Mrs. –. “They rest between yourself and your Maker. Spare me further confession.”

“Stay awhile yet,” said the old woman, in still feebler tones. “My second crime concerns you perhaps in scarce a less degree than my first. My daughter, as I heard afterwards, was picked up by a certain Squire L–, and, having no children of his own, it is likely he will make her his heiress.”

“What!” cried Mrs. –; “then Miss L–, who is engaged to my son-at least to-to is, in fact, your-your daughter? Then they are twin brother and sister!” and Mrs. — fell back in hysterics. “Wretch! Infamous woman!” cried Mrs. –, scarcely recovered from her fit. But when she gazed again at the withered form before her, behold the evil spirit had left its tenement. Sarah Maclean was no more. When Mrs. — returned home, she communicated the mournful tidings to Charles and Edith, who were[116]

together at the time-tidings which, of course, put a stop to their union. They both received the news in a state of stupefaction. Neither wept. Their grief was too deeply seated to give vent to itself in tears. They could not, after having loved each other as they had loved, look upon each other in the light of brother and sister, and as their union was impossible, they agreed that it would be better to part at once and for ever. They embraced and parted, each vowing never to love again. That night both were stricken with a violent fever, and on the night of October 12th, at the midnight hour, the spirits of both lovers were released from their mortal tenements. Let us hope that they are now at rest! Two years after the death of Charles and Edith, finding myself in the neighbourhood of my old friend Squire L–, I called at the house. He was glad to see me, as usual; but I thought he looked very much aged. The death of his adopted daughter, whom he loved tenderly, had been a great blow to him. I should not have liked to touch upon a subject so painful, had he not broached the matter first himself, and asked me if I had heard of the circumstances that led to the death of Edith and her lover. I replied that I had heard all from Charles’ mother. “And who do you think that Edith and Charles turned out to be?” he asked. “Why, lineal descendants of the great bard of Avon,” he said.[117]

“Is it indeed so?” said I. “Yes,” he replied; “after the death of my poor Edith I was curious to know something about her real mother. I made inquiries into her pedigree, and the report I heard from more than one quarter was-well, it is a long story; and, at some future time, when we are not likely to be interrupted, I may relate it to you. Suffice it to say, that the descent of Charles and Edith may be distinctly traced from our great Bard, William Shakespeare.”

“Strange,” I observed. “It is not impossible that some of the great poet’s genius might have run in the veins of Charles. He always impressed me as a young man of great intellect. He might have been something had he lived.”

“Oh, yes,” replied my friend; “I am certain of it. He was a very promising young man; and there was Edith, as full of genius as she could be, poor child. I tell you, doctor, it was marvellous what that girl had in her.”

“Oh, I believe it,” I said. “There was something extremely intelligent in her expression, if I may use the word; perhaps I ought to say, intellectual and poetical. Well, genius, though seldom inherited from father to son, rarely dies out of the family altogether, but often, after lying dormant for generations, breaks out again in some form or another, like certain diseases.”

“Yes, doctor,” said my friend; “I have observed the fact myself, and how seldom do we find genius unaccompanied with disease. Do you know, doctor, I often thank Heaven that I am no genius?” [118]

CHAPTER III. Containing Mr. Parnassus’s Poem, The Glacier King. At the conclusion of Dr. Bleedem’s narrative he was highly complimented by his audience, and various were the comments upon his recital. The chairman declared himself unable to decide as to which of the two stories related that evening was the more marvellous. The host of the “Headless Lady” vowed he had never heard such a tale in all his life before, though he knew a good story or two himself. Mr. Oldstone proposed the health of the doctor, which was drunk accordingly, amid cheers. He responded to it in a short speech, when the old Dutch clock in the corner struck one. The president rose and addressed the club thus: “Gentlemen, we have listened to two most interesting stories; but time flies-the clock has announced the commencement of another day. I regret that, on account of the length of the first two narratives, we shall be prevented from hearing a story from everyone; yet I should be loth to break up this very pleasant meeting without hearing one more recital. I propose, however, that, in consideration for some of our worthy[119]

guests-the gallant captain, to wit, and our comic friend here, who, as you see, gentlemen, appear somewhat overwhelmed under the all-inspiring influence of the punch-(laughter)-that the next narrative be of shorter duration than the two preceding. “According to order, the next tale ought to proceed from Professor Cyanite.”

Then, turning towards the professor, he inquired if he had a story ready that would not take too long in the recital. “Well, chairman,” said the professor, “the fact is that I had prepared somewhat a lengthy one for our meeting. At present I can’t think of one sufficiently short to wind up the evening.”

“In that case,” said the chairman, “perhaps Mr. Blackdeed will be able to favour now.”

Mr. Blackdeed begged to be excused. He said he could not think of one at all. He hoped, however, to have one ready for the next evening. “Dear, dear!” said the chairman; “this is really a very bad state of affairs. Has no one some short story ready? Mr. Parnassus, cannot you favour the company?” The young poet, blushing slightly, replied, “I thought of bringing before the company this evening-or, rather, last evening, I ought to say-a curious little incident out of my own experience, which occurred to me when travelling in Switzerland a few years ago. I have put it into verse in the form of a ballad. It is not[120]

long, and if it will not weary the company, I shall be most happy to sing it.”

“A song, a song!” cried many voices at once. “Bravo, Parnassus! Hear, hear!” “The title of the ballad I am about to sing to you, gentlemen, I propose calling ‘The Glacier King.’” “Good,” said the chairman. “Silence, gentlemen, if you please. A song from Mr. Parnassus.”

A dead silence ensued, and the poet, after clearing his throat once or twice, began in a clear, rich voice the following ballad:- The Glacier King. In youth, when I mid mountains roamed, full well I can recall That fearful night. The pale moonlight shone on the glaciers tall. I wandered from my châlet’s hearth (the world was locked in sleep), But something on my bosom made my soul a vigil keep. I wandered on, I recked not where, for I was sad of mood, Until upon the basement of a glacier grim I stood. The moon peeped out behind the clouds, the scene was strange and weird- Like sheeted ghosts those icy rocks above me now appeared. I cared not if I lived or died; my soul was sunk in gloom. I’d little left to live for then; I almost sought my doom. “We die but once,” I inly said. “Death’s certain, soon or late, And I would just as lief it came, as still protract my fate.”

I crunched the snow beneath my feet, and little recked of fear; I trod the giant pinnacles (the night grew dark and drear), Yet onward recklessly I strode, nor cared which way I went, Until across this sea of ice appeared a mighty rent. [121]

A horrid chasm, with below the torrent’s deafening sound, But with the madness of despair I cleared it with a bound. A little onward still I stood (the scene was weird and grand), A wondrous cavern wrought in ice by Nature’s playful hand. Its dripping arches overhung the cataract beneath, Its pendant massive icicles appeared like dragon’s teeth; And lost in contemplation of this fearful yawning cave, I deemed its chilly arches the recesses of the grave. Anon the cave appeared when moonbeams would its depths illume, A fairy hall of diamond, anon, a ghastly tomb. And as I mused in phantasy, forgetting half my woe, I wondered whether elves or ghouls their revels held below. My blood ran chilled within my veins, a tremor shook my frame, As, mingled with the torrent’s roar, unearthly voices came. Awhile I listened breathlessly, as louder still they grew; The icy cave’s inhabitants for ever nearer drew. But one deep voice above the rest, in stern commanding tone, That echoed through the cavern’s walls, cried, “Silence, and begone.”

Then, terrified, I scarce had time upon my feet to spring, When, robed in icy majesty, there stood the Glacier King. A mantle of the drifted snow bedecked his regal frame; Upon his head a crown of ice, his sceptre of the same, His hair and beard were icicles, his visage stern and pale, His eyes like glacier caverns sunk, with look that made one quail. With terror rooted to the spot, with fright uprose my hair, While on me, as in wonderment, he fixed an icy stare. At length he ope’d his lips and spake, in deep sepulchral tone, “What seekest thou, stranger, in our realm, a night like this alone?” [122]

I know not what I answer made, with voice below my breath, When nearer, with majestic stride, he came, and thus he saith- “Thou ‘rt welcome to our palace cold; it is full many a day Since one of thy mortal race hath wandered past this way.”

He led me kindly by the hand. But, oh! that hand of ice. I felt benumbed all over, but he held me like a vice. Then with his sceptre tapped a door, which opened with a bang. While through the cavern’s icy halls infernal laughter rang. He led me down by steps of ice, hewn in the solid rock, And halting at a portal, with his sceptre gave a knock. The door of ice was opened by a figure grim and grey, That bowed in deepest reverence, then onward led the way. We entered then the hall of state, where stood the icy throne; The courtiers on our entrance bowed as if to gods of stone. Their hair hung dank about their forms, the wildest ever seen; Their raiment dripping icicles, their bodies of sea green. Then out and spake the Glacier King, “Make haste and bring a light; A mortal from the outer world will sup with us to-night. Let supper be in readiness at once without delay.”

The menials made obeisance, and hastened to obey. Then soon the hall of banqueting we entered, when, lo! there A lofty cavern lighted up with phosphorescent glare; A ghastly light from out a lamp suspended from a height, That shed upon the icicles its dim funereal light. The table was a slab of ice, the dishes they were cold, And when they were uncovered I shuddered to behold, For some were human corpses that had perished in the snow, Or in the glacier’s crevices had met their fate below. [123]

My heart then sank within me, and I from the table turned. The guests all looked in wonderment, that I their dishes spurned. The King then turned upon me. “Though our dishes you decline, You must not leave this hall to-night before you taste our wine.”

He bid a menial near to fill a goblet to the brim, And as he filled a ghastly smile played o’er his features grim. The King then raised it to his lips, and first a draught drank he; The giant goblet carved in ice he handed then to me. I seized the beaker in my hand, and raised it to my lip; And cautiously I tasted it, although ’twas but a sip. I laid the crystal down in haste, as horrified I stood. The liquor that the goblet held I found was human blood! The King of Ice he marvelled, and his brow grew grave and stern, His eye would seem to ask me, “Dost thou thus my favour spurn?” I trembled, for I noticed when the icy monarch frowned The reflection of his countenance upon the court around. Each drew a pointed icicle from out an icy sheath, They wore as daggers at their sides-for fear I scarce could breathe- And brandishing them high aloft, while as their hands they clenched, They vowed that such gross insult should not pass unavenged. “Ho! sheath your daggers,” quoth the king. “Once more our guest we’ll try. Base mortal! if thou still refuse to drain yon goblet dry, Then dread our fell displeasure, for by our crown we vow, The King of Glaciers ne’er is mocked by mortals such as thou.”

I seized the goblet once again, and in despair did quaff. Now through the banquet hall resounds a wild unearthly laugh. The nauseous fluid seemed to burn like fire through my veins I felt intoxication stealing o’er me for my pains. [124]

I fell down in a stupor, know not how long I lay, But when my eyes were opened ’twas past the break of day. The King and court had vanished, but around me I descried A troop of tourists, who that morn the glaciers would bestride. They asked me how I came there, how I could be so mad, Alone to scale the glaciers, upon a night so bad. I told them shortly all my tale-all I had got to tell- About the awful Glacier King, down in his icy cell. They smiled, and said it truly was a very fearful dream; But I vowed all that had happened like truth to me did seem. They asked me to point out to them the grotto that I saw. I gazed around me, and behold the grotto was no more. Whether it was dream or not, I know not to this day; ‘Tis strange the grotto in a night should all have thawed away. And when I spoke about the cup I quaffed the cave beneath, “That was my brandy-flask,” quoth one, “I forced between your teeth.”

“Else you had perished in the snow, in truth, you looked far gone. ‘Twas by the greatest chance on earth we found you here at dawn. I thought you dead, but still I plied my flask, and, as you see, It has proved worthy of its name, immortal ‘Eau-de-Vie.’” I thanked them for their courtesy, but when I strove to rise, No muscle of my rigid frame could I, to my surprise, As much as put in motion. My bones seemed on the rack, And to my châlet’s fire-side had to be carried back. ‘Twas long ere I recovered my wonted life and strength; The tourists oft would visit me, and we grew friends at length. And the day of my recovery, to mark the grand event, I started in their company to make a great ascent. [125]

My mountain days are over now, my friends in other climes; But when we meet together we talk of bygone times. But still the name of Glacier for ever doth recall The horrors of that fearful night, within that icy hall. And at their friendly tables I’m often asked to dine. They order “Vin du Glacier,” as well as other wine, And ask me if it tastes as well, as o’er their wine they sing, As that from out the cellars of H.M. the Glacier King. Hardly had the poet concluded his lay, when the cheering and clapping of hands that ensued half-deafened all present; that is to say, with the exception of two individuals-viz., the worthy captain and our friend the comedian, who had been deaf for some time past, under the kindly influences of the punch. To say that the health of the poet was drunk with three times three would be unnecessary. We leave that to the imagination of the reader. Not only was that conventional ceremony gone through, but the chairman, after a short complimentary speech, proposed that a crown of laurels should be made and the young poet crowned therewith there and then. The poet modestly interposed, but the command of the president, especially on such an occasion as the present, was not to be recalled. John Hearty, of the “Headless Lady,” was sent outside, snowing hard as it was, to gather some laurel from a bush which grew close to the inn, and the poet was crowned with all due honours. There were two, however, who did not witness the imposing ceremony. Who these two were we will leave our readers to guess.[126]

The fumes of the punch had thrown the ideas of these two worthies into another channel, and the reverie into which they had fallen was so deep as to render them perfectly unconscious of all that was going on around them. The captain was the first to recover from his meditations. “Ease her! Stop her!” he cried, awaking with a yawn. Then, glancing round at the company, his eye first caught sight of the poet’s brow crowned with laurels. “Odds bobs, messmate!” he cried, “what the deuce have they been doing to your figurehead?” “Ah! captain,” said one of the members, “you do not know what you have lost. You’ve missed a song.”

“Missed a song, have I? Well, I thought someone must have been singing; it came in my dream. But what, in the name of Davy Jones, has Mr. Parnassus been taking. Why, one would think he had been taking a glass of prussic acid, to break out all over laurel leaves like that.”

“That,” said the chairman, “is the crown awarded to genius. Mr. Parnassus has this evening-or, I should say, this morning-favoured us with a poem.”

“Humph!” said the captain, who was not of a poetical nature himself. “Yes,” continued the chairman, “a poem; the work of his own pure brain, for which he has been rewarded with the crown that now adorns his temples, a crown of[127]

no intrinsic value, as you perceive, like the bejewelled diadem of royalty, but which, nevertheless, has been sought after by minds no less ambitious in the early days of ancient history, when the love of honour alone was a deeper incitement to the soul than the mere love of worldly pelf, and when once obtained, was guarded as zealously–” Here our comic friend showed some signs of returning animation. He stretched, yawned, and, rubbing his eyes, gazed round upon the company in bewilderment. He also fixed his eyes on the laurel crown, and so ludicrous was the expression of wonder on his countenance, although he did not utter a word, that the whole company was thrown into an immoderate fit of laughter, which completely drowned the end of the chairman’s sententious speech. The poor little comedian got most unmercifully chaffed by each of the company in turn, being asked gravely by one what his opinion was of the last story; by another, whether he liked the punch-whether it was strong enough for him. By another wag he was offered a penny for his thoughts; while another insisted upon hearing the story he had been thinking of all that time, etc., etc. The little man answered good-humouredly to all their bantering, when the president once more thumped the table. “Captain Toughyarn,” he began, “you have been guilty at our meeting of falling asleep in the middle of a story, and of being so engrossed in your state[128]

of-of-What shall I say, gentlemen?-of lethargy, as to be totally unconscious of a most spirited song that ensued. You have raised our curiosity, however, by telling us that the song entered into and formed part of your dream. We would fain hear your dream, as some slight expiation of such gross violation of etiquette.”

“What will he say to me,” thought our comic friend, “if he doesn’t let the captain escape?” “Hear, hear!” cried several voices at once. “By Jove, you’re in for it too, Jollytoast.”

“Well, chairman,” said the captain, “I’m sorry I’ve broken through discipline; but when a man has got grog stowed away in his hull–” “Exactly so,” said the chairman; “but for all that the company must hear your dream.”

“Yes, yes!” shouted the company. [129]

CHAPTER IV. The Mermaid Palace; or, Captain Toughyarn’s Dream. “Come unto these yellow sands.”

-Tempest. Well, messmates, I don’t know whether I am sufficiently clear up aloft to recollect all the details of my dream; but hold hard a moment, perhaps I can. Ah! yes; I remember now. I thought I was on board my good ship, the Dreadnought, which was bound for Timbuctoo. I was seated in my cabin, making an entry in the log, when I was aroused by a noise of shouting on deck. I thought I would go and see what was adrift; but hardly was I out of the cabin when, in the twinkling of a bowsprit, I found myself pinioned. The crew were in a state of mutiny, and headed by the first mate. I was speedily lashed to the mizen, when Ned Upaloft (that was the name of the first mate), presenting a brace of pistols at my face, called upon me to yield. “Avast, there! Ned Upaloft,” I cried; “and you, Jack Haulaway, with the whole gang of you, and tell me what the devil is the meaning of this mutinous conduct.”

[130]

“No more palaver, but yield,” he cried. “Never!” I answered. “Then you’re a dead man,” he said. “Fire!” said I; “you may take my life, but never will I yield up my power to a pack of mutineers.”

His finger was on the trigger, and the next moment I expected to be my last. I must mention that the whole of that day the weather had been extremely sultry. A storm arose suddenly, and the ship pitched and rolled tremendously. All the crew were in liquor, and the helm was deserted. At the moment I expected it was all up with me a terrible flash of lightning struck the barrels of the pistols, which went off of their own accord, luckily missing me. Ned Upaloft was struck blind. The crew were sobered for a moment. “Behold,” said I, reaping advantage from the confusion, “behold, how Heaven rescues her own. So may it go with all mutineers. Look up aloft,” said I (a flight of Mother Cary’s chickens just then passed overhead.) “Look! has that no warning? What are those but the souls of departed mariners, who have come to beckon you to your doom?” A terrific clap of thunder almost instantaneously followed the flash, and drowned my last words. The crew looked irresolute as to whether they should renew their attack or throw down their arms and yield themselves as mutineers; but they were roused by the voice[131]

of Jack Haulaway, the second mate, who cried out, “What! are you scared at the thunder and this man’s words? Ho! there; reef the main-top-gallant sail.”

The crew looked up aloft and hesitated, for the top mast threatened to snap every moment. “Come, look sharp, or in two minutes we shall all be scudding under bare poles. What! you’re afraid? Cowards that you all are. It will have to be done. I’ll go myself.”

And up went Jack Haulaway; but hardly had he taken in a reef, when the mast snapped, and main-top-gallant sail, Jack Haulaway, and all were blown far away into the sea. “Behold the fate of your second commander,” said I. “Look to yourselves now, for your time is not far off.”

The waves were now so enormous that the vessel was soon on her beam ends. Smash went the bowsprit as it struck against a rock; crash, crash, went one mast after the other, until we were literally scudding under bare poles. It was difficult for the sailors to maintain their equilibrium, and several fell overboard. I looked for the first mate. He had disappeared. Some of the sailors clung to the fragments of the vessel and tried to pray, others supplied themselves with grog, till they lost all consciousness. One of the men came forward to me, and, unloosing me, begged my pardon; said he bore me no malice, and if he[132]

hadn’t been in liquor, he would never have joined the gang. We all shook hands, for we deemed our last hour had come; and so, indeed, it had for most of us. In another moment the vessel was dashed against a rock, filled with water, and went down. Some made for the lifeboat, others for pieces of floating timber. The storm still continued with increasing fury. The sky was black as pitch, and the waves the size of mountains. Planks, hencoops, and other fragments of the wreck were floating about in all directions. Most of the crew, if not all, must have been swallowed up by the waves, for, as I looked around me, I saw no one. As for myself, I kept afloat on a cask of grog, and thus I was left to the mercy of the winds and waves. Up one wave, down another, still I held on to my cask of grog, out of which every now and then I’d take a drop, just to keep out the cold; then, replacing the bung, remounted my cask, and was contented with whatever direction the waves chose to toss me. The lightning flashed and the thunder growled around me. It was for all the world like being inside an immense big drum, and Davy Jones drumming outside. As I was being dashed to and fro by the merciless billows, I thought I heard, mingled with the dying tones of the thunder, the sound of a harp and singing. Could it be fancy? I listened again. No. I was quite sure this time my ears did not deceive me. The notes[133]

grew more and more clear, the voice more and more distinct. Yet, who could it be? There was no land near for hundreds of miles. It could be no mortal harper that touched those chords. I looked around me in wonderment, but saw nothing. At length I was carried to the top of a tremendous wave, and as I was sliding down the other side of it astride my cask of grog, I perceived coming towards me from the opposite wave a female form, beautiful as Venus, and naked to the waist. Good Heavens! it was a mermaid. Yes, there could be no mistake. Her golden tresses fluttered in the breeze, and every now and then I caught a glimpse of a large dolphin-like tail of a greenish hue, that, at every movement she made, gleamed like silver. We could not help meeting each other; so, as I was always gallant towards the fair sex, I saluted her. Heavens! What eyes! What teeth! What features! But above all, her smile. Gentlemen, I assure you her beauty was divine. Talk about sentiment! But words are wanting to express even the thousandth part of her charms. Enough, gentlemen, that all that is innocent, virtuous, and heavenly, was expressed in that smile she gave me. “Angel of Beauty!” I exclaimed, “whatever your name, your parentage, your birthplace, I vow–” “Toughyarn, Toughyarn,” said a voice within me, “don’t make an old fool of yourself. Mermaids are[134]

deceitful and dangerous, however beautiful, as you will find out to your cost before long. Think of your age, your position. Is it likely you can excite a genuine passion in any maid? For shame, sir. How can you appear romantic in her eyes, astride a grog cask. Only reflect a little.”

But I would not reflect. I stifled the voice within me, and, abandoning myself to the impulse of my passion, pressed my hand to my heart, and was about to burst out afresh, when the fair one, fixing her large deep blue eyes upon me-deep as the Mediterranean in a calm-with a supernaturally winning smile, addressed me thus, in tones to which the softest music was discord: “Welcome, Captain Toughyarn, to our haunts. Welcome to the Mermaid Grotto of pearl and coral, to my father’s palace. It is long that we await you. We have heard much of your exploits by sea, and we are all impatient to make the acquaintance of a hero so illustrious.”

“What!” I cried; “you have heard of me and expected me, O fair one?” “Yes, captain, our Sybil has prophesied your arrival here, and your visit to our palace. Oh, she told me many things about you that she has seen in vision. The mutiny of your crew, your first mate struck with blindness when about to take your life. The loss of your second mate while reefing a sail. Your release by one of the crew, after having been bound to the[135]

mast; the wreck of your vessel; and, finally, our meeting, which tallies in the minutest particulars.”

“What!” I exclaimed, in extreme astonishment, “all this she saw-even the grog barrel?” “All-everything,” replied my charmer; “but follow me, and lose no time; we all await you below.”

So saying, she beckoned to me with the most bewitching smile, and floundered away from me, lashing her tail playfully as she went, and touching the chords of her harp, sang so sweetly, so divinely, some submarine ditty about fairy palaces, halls of coral, and fair mermaidens, that all resistance was vain. “Don’t be weak, Toughyarn,” said the voice again; “resist her wiles, be deaf to her song.”

But I was deaf only to the voice that warned me. “Divine enchantress,” I cried, “I will follow you wherever you go.”

A wave now dashed me forward till I found myself by her side. “Are you really willing to accompany me?” she asked, with a gleam that made me feel-I don’t know how. “To the utmost corners of the earth,” I replied. “And even to the depths of the ocean?” she asked. “Even there,” I replied. “Anywhere, anywhere with thee, for I love thee.”

The murder was out. She heaved a sigh, and her head sank on my shoulder. “Take care, Toughyarn,” said the voice; “be[136]

warned ere it be too late.”

This was the last time the voice spoke to me. It was too late. “And do you really love me?” she asked, gazing up into my face, her large blue eyes filling with tears. “With all my heart and soul,” I replied. “And are you prepared to give me a proof of your love?” “Any proof you may desire, my angel,” I answered. “What is it?” “I mean,” she said, “would you be ready to make a very great sacrifice?” “Anything,” I replied; “anything for thee.”

“Generous mortal!” she exclaimed, and she sobbed aloud. The sight of beauty in tears always moved me. I was deeply touched at this outburst of grief on the part of my charmer, and did all I could to soothe and comfort her. I put my arm round her delicate waist; she offered no resistance, so, clasping her to my breast, I-I-well, gentlemen-I kissed her. The lightning played around me; the thunder crackling, threatened to break the drum of my ear, but I saw nothing, I heard nothing; I was unconscious of everything around me in that long loving kiss. My lips seemed glued to hers. I thought I should never be able to tear myself away. I felt her heart beat violently against my waistcoat. My blood tingled in my fingers and toes with the intensity of my passion. I no longer felt cold, for I bore a fire within.[137]

When I at length removed my lips from hers, with a prodigious smack, she fell fainting in my arms. It was as if her whole soul had been poured forth in that one kiss, and there was none left to re-animate the frail form. I sprinkled some of her native element in her face, and she recovered. I petted and caressed her, clasped her again and again to my breast, while she clung round my neck, confessing her love for me, and begging me never to desert her. Oh, the rapture of those moments! She vowed that I was all in all to her, that she had never loved before, and never should again; that she was mine, body and soul, and that if I ever ceased to love her, she should die. She called me her own dear Toughyarn, her hero, her “beau ideal,” her lover, her husband. She said that I was her master, and that she would be my slave for life. I vowed that I was unworthy to pick off the seaweed that adhered to her tail. At the word “tail,” she heaved a deep sigh, and, glancing at my lower extremities, burst into a fresh flood of tears. I was unable to account for these weeping fits, to which she seemed subject. “Some female caprice,” thought I; “nothing more.”

“What ails thee, my beloved?” I said, tenderly. “Say why, O bewitching enchantress, do those pearl drops continue to pay their tiny tribute to the great ocean?” “Oh!” she cried to herself, clasping her hands and[138]

looking upward, “I feel the sacrifice is too great. It will cost him dearly; but has he not promised?” “Promised!” I muttered. “What is this sacrifice, I wonder, that she requires of me? What can it be but always to live with her in her own home, under the sea. When once my soul is united with hers,” I reasoned, “we shall be one being. I shall be able to live under the water as well as on terra firma. And what have I to make me wish to return to land? I am a widower without family. I’ve no fortune, in fact, I am all but a ruined man, and I feel anxious to begin a new phase of existence. The sacrifice, after all, is not so great. What does it matter to me where I live, as long as I can bask the livelong day in the sunshine of such beauty?” I felt that that long ambrosial kiss, the intensity of which had so exhausted my beloved, had imparted to me a new life. I no longer dreaded or believed in the possibility of being drowned. I felt an intense desire to behold the wonders of the deep, and visit those palaces of coral and mother-of-pearl that I had so often heard of, so seizing my beloved by the waist, I exclaimed, “Come, O joy of my soul; lead me to the hall of thy father. Let us plunge into the turbulent billows. I thirst for thy element. I feel irresistibly drawn down by some new power that has come over me.”

“Follow me, then, my beloved,” she said, and with one splash disappeared beneath the waves. To kick away my grog cask and plunge in after her[139]

was the work of a moment. I dived down, down, down, till I caught up my charmer, and we both dived together side by side. Down, down, down, deeper, deeper, and deeper, still we dived through forests of seaweed, startling away all sorts of curiously formed fish and sea monsters in our rapid course. I thought I should never get to the bottom. At length, after long continued diving, I thought I descried gleaming through the waters, the mother-of-pearl roofs and pinnacles of various edifices; nor was I deceived, for as I dived deeper, I could distinguish a great city, built in a wild, weird, grotesque style of architecture, thoroughly new to me, yet grand in design, far above human conception. There were castles on rocks, both the rock and the castle being formed out of one immense piece of coral, either white or red. The rock was hollowed out by nature, and natural staircases of the same material branched off in different directions, and led to the castle above. There were grottoes of mother-of-pearl, bridges of clustering and festooned coral, intermixed with common rock, and overgrown in parts by large quaint sea plants, which hung down in long creepers, entangling and festooning themselves, crossing and recrossing each other, and communicating the upper part of the city with the lower, the town being built partly on hills, and partly in the valleys. Immense pits and hollows in what in other cities would have been the road, appeared to lead to some[140]

part of the city below. Crowds of the inhabitants were seen emerging from these grottoes, and disappearing through others. Several were seated in chariots of mother-of-pearl and turtle-shell, drawn by some hideous sea monster. There were mermen, bearded and muscular, bearing in their hands tridents; troops of mermaids of every conceivable variety of beauty, from the blue eyes and flaxen hair of the north, to the dark, Oriental type. Gigantic zoophytes and sea anemones opened their petals at us from every parapet. Music and singing was heard everywhere, and the submarine grottoes echoed with the strains of fair mermaidens. Groups of dancers surrounded us as we descended, twisting their lithesome bodies into all sorts of elegant and fantastic attitudes; beautiful mer-children sported with the most hideous sea monsters it was possible to conceive. The city seemed wealthy, the inhabitants contented, and yet there was little or no sign of industry amongst them. All the houses and palaces were evidently formed by the hand of nature, save where here and there a window or a mother-of-pearl roof or pavement betrayed manual skill. Money, as I ascertained, was an article unknown to the submarines. They had few wants, and lived peacefully among themselves. As my fair bride and I swam through the streets of this great city together, my appearance attracted great curiosity. The children were frightened, and darted away into some grotto hard by. I heard an old white-bearded[141]

merman, who had, doubtless, seen a great deal in his day, call out, “A landman! a landman!” I began to feel fatigued after diving so long, and was greatly relieved when my companion halted in front of a large portico with pillars of the most delicate pink coral, and said, “This is my father’s palace.”

The mer-princess (for her father was no less than a king), instead of knocking at the door, ran her fairy-like fingers over the strings of her lyre, and wrung from its cords such a wild and unearthly strain, that it seemed like the distant wail of souls in purgatory. The door was opened by an immense shark, standing on the tip of his tail. He opened and shut his huge mouth at us by way of salute, as we entered the hall, which was paved with mother-of-pearl, inlaid with pale coral and turtle-shell. My fair one conducted me through many passages and corridors, the roofs and walls of which were covered over with every sort of curious and beautiful shell found under the sea, till at length we entered the dais chamber of the king, and I was introduced to his majesty, and to his serene consort, who both received me graciously. Formalities over, a richly liveried mer-attendant announced that the royal sea-serpent, harnessed to the state carriage, awaited their majesties’ pleasure. The mer-king affably offered me the use of his carriage, which I gladly accepted. Their majesties, Lurline, and myself descended the stairs, and passing the portal, stepped into a magnificent car or chariot, formed of[142]

mother-of-pearl and turtle-shell, the wheels being of gold and embossed all over with the most exquisite precious stones. The coachman, or charioteer, was a stout merman, with a trident, with which he began to goad the enormous sea-serpent, who, rearing and plunging, bid fair to upset us all. However, the skilful driver, drawing the reins, made of strong seaweed, studded with pearls, kept him in abeyance. We then visited all the chief temples and other public buildings, and his majesty’s parks and hunting grounds, chatting all the time pleasantly with my beloved Lurline, and after having spent a most enjoyable day, we returned towards evening to the palace. It was the dinner hour. About a hundred harps from below struck up a lively air, in lieu of a dinner bell. “Captain Toughyarn,” said the king, “will you take down the Princess Lurline?” I bowed, and offered my arm, and we swam into the dining hall. It was a long and lofty apartment, with festoons of white and red coral pendent from the arched roof. The walls were ornamented with choice shells in patterns, and the floor covered with a matting of plaited seaweed. The furniture was of mother-of-pearl and turtle-shell. His majesty headed the table; his royal consort, who had come down dressed for dinner in necklaces of immense pearls, sat opposite to him. Other members of the blood royal, as well as some distinguished guests,[143]

were also present. We were waited upon by sea monsters, who handed round large open shells in their mouths, which served as plates. A saw-fish brought me a knife and fork, a porpoise changed the plates, a dolphin entered with the larger dishes, and a young whale handed round the vegetables, which consisted of different sorts of seaweed. The dinner was chiefly of fish, varied with albatross and sea gull, the first course being oysters, by way of whetting the appetite. The king was pleased to ask me about my adventures, so I entertained the whole dinner table with a recital of them. The queen smiled benignantly on me, and the beautiful Lurline gazed into my face with an expression of the most undisguised admiration. I felt myself quite the lion of the day, and had the conversation all to myself. During the repast a bevy of fair mermaidens swam round and round the hall, and over our heads, pouring forth divine melodies on the harp. Towards the close of the meal his majesty entered into the particulars of his own family history, and the great deeds of his ancestors, which I shall not weary your patience, gentlemen, by retailing. The dinner being at an end, we left the apartment, and the sea monsters, after devouring everything that was left, cleared away the plates. We strolled into the garden, which was filled with every imaginable variety of sea plants. Some grew up like palm trees and tree[144]

ferns, others were trained up against a wall, while others hung gracefully over the verandah of the palace, after the manner of creepers. Large shells, filled with sand, served as flower pots, and contained, as his majesty assured me, plants of extraordinary rarity. I forget their crack-jaw names. A sword-fish acted as head gardener; he was digging away with his proboscis as we entered, and a saw-fish was raking the flower beds. It was already evening, and was getting dark. The king ordered the saloon to be lighted up, when two lusty mermen brought the lamps, which they hung in the corners of the apartment, and which consisted of shells, to each of which were attached three chains of pearls, the bowl of the lamp being filled with those phosphoric animalcula that are to be seen at night round the prow of a vessel when the keel disturbs them as it ploughs its course through the ocean. The saloon being lighted, musicians were called. They were of both sexes; sturdy mermen, with gongs and sea horns; those of the gentler sex with harps. I was asked if I could dance, and replying that I could after the fashion of my country, the music struck up a merry tune, and a number of fair sirens insisted on me joining in the dance. The dance commenced; it was a curious step, consisting of a wriggle of the upper part of the body, and a splash with the tail. They formed a circle, each taking hold of the other’s hand, closing and widening[145]

several times; then letting go of hands, each dived down head foremost, their fingers touching the ground, flapping their tails upwards. They went through all sorts of fantastic steps, which I tried hard to imitate, and my failures were the cause of much merriment. I was asked whether I would favour them with a dance of my country, so I danced the hornpipe. With this they were delighted, and wanted it repeated. I had to dance it again, and again, to please them. Refreshments were handed round by the same sea monsters, and the evening wound up with games-hide and seek, blind man’s buff-and other amusements. The queen said she was glad to see me enjoy myself so much. One bewitching young siren, fixing her dark eyes upon me, and then looking down with a sigh, said it was pleasing to see such a great hero as I was condescending to take part in their humble games. Another hoped that I was in no hurry to leave them, as she was looking forward to many such pleasant evenings. A third mermaid wished that she had been born with legs, in order to learn the hornpipe. A fourth hoped I should sleep well after my fatigue. The party at length broke up, and as I was the lion of the evening, I stationed myself near the door to shake hands with all the pretty mermaids as they swam out of the saloon. I gave a gentle squeeze to each, and I am certain that if not all, at least the greater part[146]

of those young ladies, went to bed in love with me that night. But what of Lurline? I must not forget her. The fact was I did not like to be too pointed in my attentions, lest it should excite suspicion, for as yet her parents knew nothing of our attachment, so I appeared rather to neglect her than otherwise. Poor child! she retired to rest unhappy that night, fancying that I had become estranged towards her. I had no opportunity for an explanation, and after quitting the saloon was shown to my bedroom by a mer-servant girl. The walls and ceiling of my bed-chamber were covered over with handsome shells, the floor inlaid with mother-of-pearl and coral, over which was a carpet of variegated seaweed, plaited in a pattern. The bed posts were inlaid with mother-of-pearl, agate, lapis lazuli, and other rare stones. The mattress was of very soft sponge, and the counterpane one broad piece of seaweed. Having undressed, I blew out the candle; that is to say, I smashed the animalcula inside the shell that the servant girl brought me in lieu of a candlestick, and tucking myself up I tried to sleep, but was haunted all night by the bright eyes of Lurline. Towards morning I fell into a light sleep, from which I was roused by the dulcet tones of a harp at my door and the enchanting voice of Lurline singing. I leaped from my couch, donned my clothes, and welcomed her with a kiss on the sly.[147]

“Cruel one!” she said, “I thought you had ceased to love me.”

“I cease to love thee, sweetest! Never!” “You are quite sure you love me, then?” she said. “And you will never desert me?” “Desert thee! my angel,” said I. “Do you think I could be so base?” “Hush!” she whispered. “Here comes mamma,” and she dived downstairs. “Lurline, Lurline,” cried her majesty, who had overheard every word of our conversation. “Lurline, come here; I wish to speak with you.”

Up swam Lurline again, pale with fright. She entered her mother’s room, and the queen turned the key. I heard the mother’s voice within speaking angrily, and half-an-hour afterwards Lurline left the chamber, sobbing. I came forward to soothe her, but she motioned me away, and put her finger to her lip. I dived after her downstairs, resolved to hear the worst. It seems her mother had scolded her for flirting; said she was too young to marry; that I was too old for her; that she knew nothing of my family; and that she must not fix her affections upon anyone who was not of royal blood. “Here, then,” thought I, “among this simple primitive people, there is as much aristocratic pride as in our more civilised countries.”

What was to be done? Relinquish Lurline for a foolish piece of barbarous pride. I couldn’t and[148]

wouldn’t. There was nothing left me but to speak to his majesty; assume as much dignity as I could and boast of my pedigree. At breakfast I thought both the king and queen cold towards me, but I appeared not to notice it, and talked away fluently about my country, my family, and insinuated, rather than said outright, that I was of royal blood. Their manner towards me grew by degrees less frigid, and after breakfast I followed his majesty to his dais chamber, and proposed for his daughter’s hand. He demurred for a long time, but I declared that in my own country I, too, had been a king; that I had been driven from my throne by my rebellious subjects; that, growing disgusted with ruling, I had sought refuge from ennui in a life of adventure. His majesty, like his people, being of a simple nature, believed all I said, and left me, saying he would think about it and talk to the queen. I saw him from the window shortly afterwards in earnest conversation with her majesty in the garden. I burned to know the result of their interview. In the course of the day one of the queen’s mermaids-of-honour informed me that her majesty desired to speak with me. I entered into her presence trembling. She accosted me thus, “Captain Toughyarn, his majesty has already acquainted me with your proposal, but before we give our consent to a marriage with our[149]

daughter, even after your assertion that you are of royal blood, we must know you a little longer. Marriages are not to be contracted in a hurry. You did very wrong to engage our daughter’s affections without first consulting us in the matter. It was an insult to our royal self. However, let that pass; it is too late now. My daughter seems thoroughly to have set her affections upon you. I have lectured her severely for her imprudence; but the matter seems to have gone so far, that I fear to break her heart if I peremptorily refuse to give my consent to this marriage. If my daughter will take my advice, she will, upon reflection, break off this match. You’ll excuse me, Captain Toughyarn, for saying that I think your age a decided objection.”

“As regards my age, your majesty,” I said, “the men of my country get grey and bald at thirty, though they maintain their healthful vigour to a prolonged period. I myself am thirty-six.”

(I would not say that I was sixty-three.) Her majesty looked incredulous, and then a momentary smile crossed her features, as if she were having a joke all to herself, but she stifled it immediately. “There is another thing, Captain Toughyarn,” said her majesty, “that perhaps you may not be aware of. Marriages between your race and ours are extremely rare.

A sixth, on the various modes of self-defence!

A seventh, a book on field sports!

I put down the book for a moment and sat musing, trying to imagine to myself what manner of man the Baron might be!

I gazed round the room, and noticed that it was hung round by trophies of the chase-stags’ antlers, foxes’ brushes, intermingled with guns, powder-flasks, etc!

Here and there were hung half suits of armour, belonging, no doubt, to the Baron’s ancestors!

Then, from musing I fell into a dose, and dreamed of the wild hunter and all sorts of curious and horrible things!

On awaking I reflected that I had not been over[20] the house, so I went in search of the housekeeper, who asked me if I would like to see the picture gallery!

Nothing loth, I followed my guide, who pointed me out the portraits of the present Baron’s ancestors for I know not how many generations back!

The portrait of the present Baron was not amongst them!

I noticed a strong family likeness running through all of the portraits, and I wondered if the Baron inherited the likeness!

I asked the housekeeper, and she assured me that he did in a very striking degree!

On leaving the gallery, I passed through long oaken corridors, through immense chambers hung with tapestry, on which were depicted either battles or scenes of the chase!

“The Baron inherits the tastes of his ancestors, it would appear,” I said to the matron!

“Ah! sir,” said she, with a sigh, and tried to force a smile, but it was a bitter one!

I took little notice of her expression at the time, and soon after left her, to stroll about in the garden!

It was a spacious one, laid out in good taste!

There were terraces, broad velvet lawns, cedars of Lebanon, avenues of yew trees, glimpses of distant hills, flower beds, luxuriant with every variety of the choicest flowers!

There were broad walks and serpentine paths, oaks, beeches, elms; a lake with an island in the middle, which was reached by a rustic bridge; weeping-willows, summer-houses, and everything that could be desired!

I strolled about the garden, struck[21] with admiration every step I took at the exquisite taste with which everything was carried out, and wondered how it was that the same mind which took such delight in the horrible should possess such exquisite refinement of taste in the planning of his garden!

I doubted the garden being the result of the Baron’s own taste, nor was I mistaken, as I afterwards ascertained from the housekeeper!

I strolled back towards the house, which I examined carefully over for the second time, then strolled out again into the garden, and so on till supper, which I took about nine o’clock!

Feeling rather lonely, I invited Mrs!

Wharton, the housekeeper, to keep me company during my solitary meal!

She sat down opposite to me as I commenced devouring my cold fowl and tongue, and helped myself to a glass of the Baron’s ale!

She was an agreeable old lady, and seemed to have known better days!

“This is a curious old place,” I began!

“Have you any rats here?” “No, sir, none now,” answered the matron!

“Nor bugs?” “No!

“ “Nor fleas?” “No, sir,-that is to say, only one,” and her face assumed a solemn expression!

“Only one!” I exclaimed, laughing!

“Yes, sir,” said she, gravely-”only the Phantom; only the Baron!

“[22] “Phantom! Baron!” I exclaimed, bewildered!

“Ah, you have a ghost story in the family, I see; but I don’t think you quite understood my question,” I said!

“I did not inquire about phantoms, or barons; my question referred simply to fleas!

“ “Yes, yes; I perfectly understand, sir,” replied the matron; “and I repeat that the phantom flea is the only flea that inhabits this mansion!

“ “The Phantom Flea!” Here I exploded!

“Well, of all the odd superstitions I ever heard of, that beats them all!

Really, my good woman, you should not-you should not, indeed, believe in such trash!

“ “Ah, sir,” replied the matron, “it is plain to see that you are a stranger in these parts!

Is it possible you have never heard of the ‘Baron’s flea?’” “Never in all my life before, I assure you, my good woman,” I replied; “but, as it is a thing apparently well known, I should like to hear the particulars of the case!

” “Well, sir,” began the housekeeper, “you must know that some two hundred years or so back one of the Baron’s ancestors, one Sir Ralph — inhabited this mansion!

The room that you will sleep in to-night was his room; the self same bed and furniture that you saw this morning were there in his time!

He was not a man generally liked by those around him; in fact, it would not be too much to say that he was universally hated!

No one could remember any good act or kind word of the Baron’s!

He was cruel, bloodthirsty,[23] tyrannical, avaricious, ambitious, and sensual!

From early youth he was always allowed to have his own way, and when he came into power he was the scourge of the neighbourhood!

“There was no restraining his cruelty and malignity!

Anyone who dared oppose himself to his will was put to death!

He thought no more of taking the life of a peasant than one would in wringing the neck of a fowl!

Maidens were carried off with impunity, and sometimes murdered; men were found stabbed or mangled to death by the Baron’s hounds; cottages were set fire to, and their inhabitants driven out to seek refuge where they could; robberies were committed, churches pillaged, convents sacked, monks driven out and occasionally burnt alive for pastime; nuns carried off by ruffians to the Baron’s hall; in short, every species of outrage and plunder conceivable!

Such a state of affairs could not endure for ever!

It gave rise to a rebellion!

The long-oppressed people would suffer it no longer, and rose to a man!

They would fain have broken into the Baron’s hall, and have torn him limb from limb; but the Baron’s myrmidons were powerful and well armed; and, cutting their way through the crowd with the Baron at their head, spared neither man, woman, nor child!

“The mob, driven back, were subdued for a time; but the law interfered, though with little better success; for the first time that constables were sent to arrest the Baron, he sent them back again to those who sent them[24] with their noses and ears slit!

Such an insult as this against the servants of the law could not be stood any longer!

Grand preparations were made for the immediate arrest of the Baron and his ruffians, with an order to raze his castle to the ground, which would most assuredly have been carried into effect, had not the sudden death of the Baron rendered such measures unnecessary!

“The Baron’s death was mysterious!

Some say he made away with himself, rather than fall into the hands of justice!

Others assert that he was struck by lightning as a punishment for his many crimes!

Others, that he was killed in a fray!

But the story most current is, that a man introduced himself into the Baron’s household as servant, whose bride the Baron had dishonoured, and avenged himself by putting an end to the Baron’s life by poison!

“However this was, testimony goes much to prove that the Baron was found dead in his bed!

How long he took dying is uncertain, but tradition tells that his last moments were horrible!

He refused to see a father confessor, and died in his sins!

“He was succeeded by his son, a peaceful and studious youth, much beloved by the people, who did not seem to inherit a drop of the old Baron’s blood!

In some of his later descendants, however, the spirit of the old Baron seemed to reign again!

When the death of the Baron was made known, great rejoicings manifested themselves in the neighbourhood!

Everyone[25] wanted to know the particulars of the Baron’s mysterious end!

Strange stories were set afloat, many of which are believed to this day!

But one thing universally believed is, that, as a punishment for his sins, the Baron’s spirit is condemned to inhabit the form of a flea of uncommon size, which sucks the blood of all strangers who sleep in that bed!

His power, however, is confined to that chamber!

Other rooms are left unmolested!

The marks left on the body by the bite of this fell insect are extremely large, being about the size of a wen, and the pain endures for a considerable time!

I can speak from experience, for I have been bitten myself!

The flea may be seen by anyone who chooses to sleep in that room!

One night spent in that chamber will be enough to convince any unbeliever of the truth of my assertion!

“Many and futile have been the attempts to catch this obnoxious insect!

It eludes all chase!

It was not for many years after the Baron’s death, and until many of the occupants of that chamber had been repeatedly bitten, and all attempts to capture the offensive creature had been abandoned in despair, that the belief that the Baron’s spirit inhabited its fell body grew firmly rooted in the minds of the surrounding gentry!

“If, after what I have related to you, sir, you feel inclined to change your room, I shall have much pleasure in making you up a bed in another chamber, although it is against the Baron’s orders; for, knowing what a wretched night you must spend within that[26] haunted chamber, I feel a compassion for you, sir, and all strangers that the Baron cruelly hands over to the spirit of his wicked ancestor!

” “On the contrary, Mrs!

Wharton,” I said, “I have the greatest curiosity to encounter this wonderful flea!

Your conversation has been most interesting, and as it is now past ten o’clock, I don’t care how soon I make his aristocratic acquaintance!

” “Do as you please, sir,” said Mrs!

Wharton, “but if you should feel uncomfortable in the night, you’ve but to knock at my door, the next room to yours, and I will gladly make you up a bed in No!

12!

” “No, thank you, Mrs!

Wharton; I am much obliged to you all the same!

I have no doubt that the Baron and I will be capital friends!

” “Well, sir, I wish you a pleasant night of it, I am sure,” said the housekeeper, as she handed me a candle!

“Good-night, sir!

” “Good-night, Mrs!

Wharton!

” I walked up stairs to the haunted chamber!

Having reached the landing, I entered my room and locked myself in for the night!

In spite of my forced levity, I must admit that I felt a certain feeling of awe come over me upon entering the chamber once occupied by the author of so many crimes!

I could not but think that Mrs!

Wharton herself thoroughly believed in what seemed to me a popular superstition, but the more I reflected on what she had told me of the Baron’s crimes, the less ludicrous did the idea of the Baron’s metempsychosis appear to me!

[27] What, after all, was there ridiculous in a flea more than in any other hideous creature? The feeling of the ludicrous in my mind was supplanted by one of horror!

“There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy,” I muttered!

I could not make up my mind to go to rest immediately!

In fact, I did not feel in the least sleepy!

I busied myself in examining the room minutely to see if there were any trap-door or sliding panel; and, tapping all the walls, expected every moment to touch some spring and for some panel to fly back, discovering a secret staircase!

I examined the bed and under the bed, but could discover nothing!

The Baron’s portrait hung over the mantelpiece!

I lifted up the picture to see if there was any hole in the wall underneath, but there was nothing but good solid panel; nor could I in any part of the room discover anything suspicious!

I partially undressed and seated myself in a large arm-chair in front of the Baron’s portrait!

I was extremely interested in the perusal of his features, and had no difficulty in believing all the atrocities attributed to the original!

The more I gazed at it, the more it fascinated me!

I could not take my eyes from it!

Somehow or other the features seemed familiar to me; I fancied I had seen them somewhere!

I tried to collect my thoughts!

Where had I seen them before? Suddenly I recollected a horrible criminal, who had murdered a whole family and committed other[28] heinous atrocities, and had been executed a year or two before!

I had to plead for him at the trial, but the evidence was so strong against him, that no earthly power could save him from the gibbet!

The likeness between this wretch and the portrait before me was very remarkable!

This, then, was the incarnation of deep crime!

These are the features that mark a life given up to every sort of cruelty, licentiousness, and depravity!

The physiognomy was peculiar, and never to be forgotten when once seen!

The head was round as a bullet, the hair red, short and bristly, the moustache and peaked beard of the same hue; the eyes greenish, and obliquely set in the head, like those of a cat, with an expression of the most indescribable ferocity and malice!

The eyebrows red and tufted, running up also in an oblique direction, one of them being considerably higher than the other!

Between the brows was a deep line!

The forehead was flat, and retired from the temples in two separate peaks, that appeared to run up nearly to the back of his head; the nose was at once hooked and flat, like the bill of a parrot; the mouth was wide; the lips thin and compressed, with unpleasant lines at the corners; the chin and jaw square and massive; the neck resembling that of a bull; the ears were unusually large, and stuck out at the sides; the complexion was florid, with two pouches under the eyes, which seemed to drag the eyes down and give them a bloodshot appearance!

A deep line in the cheeks, extending[29] from each wing of the nose to the corners of the mouth, gave to the countenance a look of cynical disdain, and completed a portrait at once characteristic and revolting!

The costume was early Elizabethan, and the arms of the Baron, together with his name and his age-forty-six-when the portrait was taken, were depicted with the date in the corner of the picture!

For a while I sat musing!

“Fit spirit,” I muttered, “to inhabit the form of a flea! Heartless, worthless, bloodthirsty!

” I gazed at the portrait with feelings of horror and disgust!

The eyes seemed to answer my expression with a look of anger!

I was unable to judge of the merits of the picture as a work of art, being little versed in such matters; but of one thing I am certain, that the painter had endeavoured to imitate as truthfully as it lay in his power all the leading characteristics of the Baron’s physiognomy without any attempt at flattery!

As I mused it grew late; it was now just upon midnight!

I finished undressing and climbed into my bed, a high old-fashioned four-poster with heavy embroidered curtains!

The Baron still scowled at me from the mantelpiece, but, without returning his gaze, I set to work diligently to search for the flea!

I drew back the top sheet slowly until the whole bed was uncovered!

I shook the blankets and counterpane and looked under the pillow, but all in vain, not a glimpse of a flea was visible!

It was a clean, well-aired bed, so, feeling now rather sleepy, I covered myself up with the bed-clothes[30] and blew out the light, with every prospect of a good night’s rest before me!

But, alas! how soon was I undeceived!

Hardly had I gone off into my first sleep, when I was suddenly awoke from a delicious dream with a sharp, sudden pang, like a stab or the tooth of some venomous reptile in the fleshy part of my thigh!

I started up in horror, hardly able to restrain a slight shriek!

The night was dark and stormy, the winds howled without, and the old mansion shook from its foundations!

“The Phantom Flea!” I muttered, horrified, and reached out my hand for my tinder-box; but before I was able to strike a light, I experienced a second sharp stinging pain in the small of the back, then another in the calf of my leg!

By this time I had succeeded in striking a light!

Some scorpion, I thought!

So, lighting my candle, I commenced a rigid search!

At length I caught sight of the vile insect!

There it was, sure enough, a flea, and no mistake about it, but what a monster! It must have been the size of a coffee bean!

What legs! How it hopped from one side of the bed to the other! Well, gentlemen, I used my utmost endeavours to capture it; and here let me add that I am generally rather expert at that sort of game, having had some practice in my time; but, would you believe it, gentlemen, it foiled all my best endeavours, although I kept it in sight all the time!

I was a full hour and a half engaged in this undignified chase!

The “Phantom Flea” defied me to the last!

What was I to do? I[31] couldn’t sit up all night hunting a flea, and yet to get any sleep with such a monster in the bed was equally impossible!

Suddenly I recollected that I had a small bottle of opium in my waistcoat pocket, which I had purchased the day before to relieve a toothache that I had caught from sitting in the theatre at one end of a row of stalls, close to the door, which kept continually opening and shutting!

I rose and searched for the bottle, and swallowed more, perhaps, than under ordinary circumstances would have been good for me, got into bed again, and blew out the light!

The first sensation I experienced was that of a deliciously gradual dropping off to sleep, but the keenness of my senses was increased a hundred-fold!

My memory and my imagination bordered on the abnormal!

Every event in my life, from the cradle up to the present moment, rose before my mind in microscopic detail!

The room was dark; nevertheless, my eye, grown accustomed to the light, and sharpened by the effects of the opium, enabled me to discover every object in the room distinctly!

There was the bed, the counterpane, every little tuft worked on it with painful distinctness!

There was the texture of the sheets; every fibre of the blankets, and last, but not least, the “Phantom Flea” hopping about and around me, and biting me here and there at his pleasure!

The opium in some measure relieved the severity of the bite, though the latter was still painful enough to prevent me from going off to sleep altogether!

The sensation of delirium (for[32] I can call it nothing else) caused by the opium seemed to increase!

The room appeared to grow lighter and lighter, till it seemed to glow with a phosphoric glare!

My sight, hearing, and other senses grew rapidly more and more acute!

Everything around me seemed to swell and dilate into proportions positively enormous!

I felt myself grow larger, the bed grew larger, the room grew larger, the picture grew larger, and the flea grew larger!

Larger and larger swelled the bed; larger, larger, and ever larger grew the flea, till it attained the proportions of a horse!

I noticed that the larger it grew, the less like a flea and more human it became!

At length it appeared to stop growing, and to decrease, if anything!

It had now assumed the size of a man, and a form almost human!

There it stood at the foot of my bed, with its arms folded on its breast, and its eye steadily fixed upon mine!

How shall I describe the horror of my situation-feeling my eyes rivetted on that hideous face with a preternatural fascination? To remove them was impossible!

Yet to gaze on it further was death!

I can describe my feelings to nothing else than the sensation of gradually turning into stone!

I felt life fast ebbing from me!

My head whirled, I gasped for breath!

I tried to speak, to implore for mercy, but my voice was gone!

I felt my last moment had come!

The remorseless flea seemed conscious of my agony, and gloated on my sufferings, for he never took his stony eye off me all the while!

Unable to move, and bathed in a profuse perspiration, I must have died in[33] another instant from sheer agony and terror, had I not by a supernatural effort gathered up my last dying energies, and burst out in a loud, despairing yell that seemed to pierce the walls of the whole house!

I felt the spell broken for the time!

The fiend himself seemed startled by the sudden and preternatural shrillness of the scream, and for a moment changed the expression of his countenance!

Feeling his eye no longer fixed upon mine with that fearful intensity, I dared to breathe again; but I had awoke Mrs!

Wharton in the next room, and she knocked at my door to ask me what was the matter!

“Nothing, thank you,” I said; “only a dream; don’t be alarmed!

” So Mrs!

Wharton retired to her room again!

The monster who had never left me during all this time, at length spoke!

“I have summoned you here to-night, because I have need of you!

I am that Baron Ralph, the ruthless, whose deeds of bloodshed you have already heard of, and for which deeds he is condemned nightly to inhabit the form of a flea!

You have experienced my power, and your paltry scepticism has been shaken!

Listen now to me!

I do not always inhabit the contemptible form in which you first saw me!

In the daytime I wander to and fro on the earth, and inhabit by turns the bodies of such men whose natural propensities are in harmony with my own!

Wretch! do you know that the man, who, through[34] your inability to save, was executed for some few paltry murders, was none other than myself in the flesh? That it was my body that suffered the pain and disgrace of execution, my spirit that was driven back by your incapacity, to inhabit the form of one of the vilest of insects? Think not to escape my resentment!

I have need of you again, it is true, but I do not ask you a favour, I command you to obey!

Spirits of my order do not ask; they command and threaten, and if disobeyed, punish!

” Aware of the awful power of this fell being and knowing all resistance vain, I thought it best to assume as humble a position as I could, in order to milden the severity of his look and manner-that fearful look that I had experienced only a few minutes ago, and which might kill me outright a second time!

Therefore I prostrated myself before him on the bed, and in the most abject tones began!

“Illustrious flea! I will do all–” “Irreverent varlet!” exclaimed the Baron, fiercely, darting at me a glance from his evil eye that froze my very marrow!

“That name is offensive to me, another such title as that, and I’ll-I’ll”-here the Baron’s face went through the most hideously savage contortions that it is possible to imagine!

The Baron’s portrait taken in the flesh was ugly enough, but it was an ideal of manly beauty compared with the infernal aspect of this demon flea before me!

“Mercy! mercy!” cried I, gasping!

[35] “Oh, yes, ‘Mercy, mercy,’” retorted the Baron, with a sneer!

“Very well, then, this time, but mind–” Here his countenance again assumed a ferocious expression!

“Ha! ha!” he cried!

“You thought to outwit me by taking opium to deaden my bite!

Fool! know it was I who made you buy that opium; not to make you sleep, but to awaken your dull senses to such a pitch that the gross material clay that clogs your vision might be, as it were, doffed for a moment, and that your keener eyesight might be able to grasp my form a degree nearer resembling that which I bore in the flesh, thereby in a measure removing the barrier between our beings; and each, as it were, meeting on neutral ground, to the end that you should know my pleasure and obey my commands!

It was I who caused you to catch that toothache, by inspiring you to go to the theatre!

It was I who so ordained the distribution of the tickets that that ticket near the door should fall to your lot, where I knew you would take cold in the tooth, being subject to the toothache!

I then, by my subtle arts, caused you to buy that bottle of opium and bring it here with you!

I then worried you by continual biting, till I forced you to seek comfort in that opium bottle, and now that your usually obtuse senses are raised to that abnormal state necessary to converse with beings of my order, listen, and give ear to what I have to say!

” “Awful being, say on,” I muttered!

“You must know, then,” he continued, “that my[36] spirit inhabits by day the body of the present Baron who bears my name, though at night I am compelled to assume the ignoble shape of a flea!

At this present moment my descendant lies in his bed lifeless!

My spirit will animate his clay to-morrow!

Call upon him early, and you will learn from him what I have not time to discuss with you now, as it is now daybreak and my power is on the wane!

Farewell!

” So saying, he gradually decreased in size, losing every moment more and more of the human element that he had assumed, and growing more and more into the likeness of a flea the smaller he grew, till he returned to the size he appeared when I first saw him, and then vanished mysteriously!

The exciting effects of the opium had worn off, but they had given place to a feeling of deep depression!

My head felt too heavy for me, and ached terribly; my eyeballs were as if weighed down by lead!

I could not sleep comfortably, and I was too lazy to get up!

I loathed my own existence, and hated everybody and everything around me!

Thoughts of suicide haunted me, and I had a momentary thought of emptying the whole of the remaining contents of the bottle down my throat, and so put an end to my misery for ever!

But then I bethought me of the Baron; it might be the means of invoking again the “Phantom Flea!

” He might be angry at being recalled, and possibly carry me off, soul and all!

I turned and tossed about restlessly in my bed, and kicked the bed-clothes on to[37] the floor!

The cold grey dawn broke in at my window!

I thought I would get up, so, giving one desperate spring, I found myself upon my feet!

My tongue was parched, and a cold sweat matted my hair!

I felt a prodigious thirst, and emptied a whole water-bottle; then I proceeded to dress, but I soon found that to shave was an utter impossibility!

My hand shook as with the palsy, so I abandoned the attempt!

Unshaven, unkempt, and negligently dressed, with haggard look and listless steps, I sauntered about the lonely corridors of the mansion like a restless spirit, until I heard the footsteps of Mrs!

Wharton about the house!

I started at the slightest noise!

I was soon accosted by that worthy, who, of course, wanted to know how I had slept!

“I passed an indifferent night,” I replied!

“I foolishly took some opium to make me sleep, and it has given me the headache!

By the by,”-I said, to change the conversation, so as to avoid being questioned, for I saw the old lady was scanning my countenance-”by the by, where did you say the Baron was staying? If not too far off, I should like to call upon him; a walk might do me good!

” “About five miles off, sir, in the next village, at the sign of ‘The Swan,’” said the housekeeper; “as straight as ever you can go, sir, you can’t miss it!

” “Thank you,” said I!

“Poor, poor, gentleman,” I heard the housekeeper mutter to herself, as I started off, “I knew he would suffer!

“[38] I set off at a brisk pace; the sun had just risen, a silver mist was rising, and a gentle breeze somewhat alleviated the fever of my burning brow, but my legs felt weak!

I tottered on for half-a-mile further; here I found a mile-stone and sat down to rest upon it!

My reflections were gloomy!

My recollections of the previous night were painfully vivid!

My dream, my vision, my spiritual visitation, or whatever you like to call it, did not vanish upon waking, like an ordinary dream, but remained deeply rooted in my brain with fearful accuracy of detail!

I recollected word for word all the monster had uttered; recalled his tone of voice, his remarkable shape-that curious and hideous blending of the characteristics of the flea with the human form, the revolting, fiendish ugliness of the tout ensemble, but above all, of that basilisk eye!

My blood ran cold as I thought of it!

“Have I then lived to hold converse with a being of the lower world?” I muttered, to myself!

“Am I awake, or is this but a continuation of the dream?” I gave my arm a pinch, a hard twisted pinch, with all my might and main, to ascertain if I were sleeping or waking, but the scene before me remained the same, and my recollections of the past night were as vivid as ever!

I took off my hat to wipe my brow and let the cool breeze play with my locks and about my heated temples!

I gazed at the smiling scene around me!

What a contrast to the hell I bore within!

“O glorious orb!” I ejaculated, “author and vivifier[39] of all nature, through every grade of creation, illumine the haunted chambers of my dark soul with thy golden beams; bring balm to my jaded spirit and renew the bright hope of my earlier years!

Give me strength to bear my tottering limbs to the end of my pilgrimage; or, if that be not granted me, take all there is left-take my life, great orb of day! Type of my own once aspiring youth, quicken my flagging energies and breathe into me new life, new hope, new strength!

” Whilst thus apostrophising the rising sun, I experienced something like the fire of my boyish days returning to my frame!

I actually felt an appetite!

I rose from my seat considerably refreshed, and continued my journey!

I walked on with buoyant step; I had all but forgotten the adventure of the past night!

If it rose up before me again at intervals, I speedily chased it from my mind!

At length I espied the village in the distance!

Another half-mile led me up to the door of “The Swan Inn!

” It was then about seven o’clock!

A raw country youth, evidently the boots, was beating a mat outside the door!

“Is the Baron within?” I asked!

“Wal, he b’ain’t up yet, zur,” replied the youth!

“Oh, never mind,” I said, “I will wait, and as soon as he is up tell him a gentleman is waiting to see him!

” “Very well, zur!

” “Would you like to wait here in the parlour, sir?” said the buxom landlady, who had overheard our[40] dialogue!

“The Baron can’t be long; he is generally up by this time, or if you will follow me, sir, I will knock at his door, and you can wait in his sitting-room till he comes out!

” “Thank you,” I said, as I followed the landlady upstairs, and was led into the sitting-room!

The landlady knocked at the Baron’s door!

No answer!

“Don’t awake him, pray,” said I, “if he’s asleep!

” “Oh, but the Baron told me to call him early, sir!

” She knocked again!

Again no answer!

The landlady paused a few moments to listen if he was getting up, then tapped again louder, louder still, but all was silent!

The hostess ventured to open the door ajar!

The Baron was in bed!

She entered the room!

A pause, a slight scream, and the landlady came running out to me, pale and terrified!

“Oh, sir,” she said, in a faint voice, “the Baron-the Baron-is-dead!” “Dead!” I exclaimed!

“When? how?” “It is true, sir!

Come and see!

” I entered the Baron’s chamber!

There he lay, sure enough, to all appearance dead!

I touched him; he was as cold as ice!

I was much struck with the singular resemblance of the defunct Baron before me to the portrait of Baron Ralph that hung over the mantelpiece in my chamber!

It is true that the Baron before me was a younger man, that he wore a shaven face instead of a moustache and peaked beard, that the livid colour of the corpse was unlike the florid complexion of[41] Baron Ralph; but the features were exact, the shape of the head, the colour of the hair and the way it grew; the same tufted red eyebrows, the right one considerably higher than the left; the same bent flat nose and tightly compressed lips, with cruel lines at the corners; the chin, the jaw, the deep line between the brows, in fact, the whole man seemed the exact counterpart of the old Baron!

A horrible recollection passed through my mind!

I remembered having seen the criminal before alluded to after his execution!

What a startling likeness between the features of the executed criminal and those of the Baron’s corpse before me!

I shuddered!

A portion of the phantom’s conversation on the preceding night occurred to me suddenly!

What if-could it be that– I called the landlady!

The whole inn was in a state of confusion!

The news of the Baron’s death had circulated through the whole village by this time!

“Perhaps,” said I, “the Baron may not be quite dead, he may be in a trance, he may be– At any rate, don’t you think it would be best to send for the doctor, to hear his opinion?” The doctor was accordingly sent for, and arriving shortly, was at once shown into the Baron’s room!

The landlady and a great part of the household followed!

“Why, of course he’s dead,” replied the leech, brusquely, in answer to their eager questions!

“Can’t you see that?” “If, nevertheless,” said I, timidly, “you would not mind opening a vein–”[42] “I’ll open a vein, if you like,” he answered, bluntly; “but, I tell you, the man’s dead!” Then, taking out his lancet, he opened a vein in the right arm!

“You see now, I hope,” said the leech, “that it is utterly useless; there is not a drop of blood!

” “Then,” said the landlady, “the Baron really is-dead?” “Dead! Dead as mutton,” replied the doctor!

At this juncture the face of the corpse grew violently convulsed, his eyes rolled, the colour returned suddenly to his cheeks, and leaping from the bed with terrific energy, he seized the bolster, with which he belaboured the terrified inmates of “The Swan” right and left, knocking over the little doctor, and sending me into the landlady’s lap, and the “boots” flying out of the room with a yell of terror, besides upsetting every utensil of crockery that stood in the way!

“Dead, am I!” roared the Baron, “dead, eh! Where’s that scurvy apothecary-that spreader of plaisters, that pill-maker, that cow-bleeder-that dared to open one of my veins?” The little doctor had crept under the bed!

“And you, sir,” cried he, turning upon me, “for advising him to try his filthy experiments upon me,” and swinging round his bolster, sent me tottering against the wall!

“Dead as mutton, eh! By the blood of my ancestors, I never had such foul language used to me before!

[43] What! compare the aristocratic flesh of one descended from such a line of ancestors as mine to mutton! Ugh! Mutton, quotha? I’ll mutton you,” cried the Baron, aiming a blow at the little doctor’s head, which he caught peeping from beneath the bed!

The doctor ducked in his head, and attempted a clandestine escape on his hands and knees by the door, but was immediately pulled back by the coat-tails by the Baron!

“Not so easily, young vein-opener, do you escape the clutches of the Baron!

Bind up my wound, Sir Shaveling, and think yourself lucky that I spare your paltry life for the vile trick which you, in your blind ignorance of this phenomenon of my aristocratic constitution, dared to practise upon me!

Keep that instrument for the bleeding of cows and horses!

That’s more in your line than the flesh of great nobles like me!

” The Baron’s wound was bleeding profusely!

The floor was covered with pools of blood!

The landlady had fallen into hysterics, and had to be carried out of the room!

The leech stammered out a sort of apology and set meekly about his task of binding up the Baron’s wound!

“Silence!” roared the Baron, “and no more prattle!

” The arm being at length bound up, the doctor took his departure without further severity on the part of the Baron, who had now cooled down considerably!

[44] Whether it was the loss of blood, or what, a marked change had taken place in the Baron’s demeanour!

He apologised amply to me for the effects of hereditary temper of which he was the victim, and invited me to breakfast!

The breakfast was brought up by the landlord himself, as everyone else refused to enter the Baron’s apartments, saying that the Baron must be the devil himself, and no one else!

“I’m afraid,” said the Baron, addressing the landlord, “that I frightened your good lady dreadfully this morning, eh?” “Well, my lord,” said the host, “she did take on about it a little, but–” “I am sincerely sorry for my rudeness,” apologised the Baron, “but my infirmity is ungovernable!

It is a disease I inherit from my ancestors; I am given every now and then to some uncontrollable burst of passion when my nerves are a little out of order, which is generally the first thing in the morning!

” “Indeed, my lord,” said the good-hearted landlord, with some compassion in his face, “but your lordship’s sudden coming to life again after the doctor had pronounced you dead, that was what staggered us all downstairs!

” “Ha! ha!” laughed the Baron!

“Yes; well, I dare say it did appear rather startling, but it is nothing to those who know me!

The fact is, I am subject to a peculiar sort of trance, much resembling death; that also I inherit from my ancestors!

“[45] “Well, my lord, it’s strange!

I hope it’s nothing dangerous!

At any rate, I am glad to see your lordship looking so well again,” said the host!

“Thank you, thank you, my good host,” replied the Baron!

“It would have been an ugly thing, you know, my lord, for your lordship to have died suddenly in my inn!

It would have looked like foul play,” said the landlord!

“True, true, my good host; I understand,” replied his lordship!

“I trust you’ll convey my best apologies to your good lady for–” “Oh, I trust your lordship won’t mention it,” said the landlord; “and if there is anything else your lordship may require–” “Nothing, thank you,” said the Baron; and the landlord left the room!

I was surprised at the change in the Baron’s manner!

Perhaps, after all, he might not be so bad as he appeared!

His infirmity of temper was certainly against him!

His personal appearance no less so!

Nevertheless, in his better moments he appeared to possess the manners of a gentleman!

I began to fancy that the experiences of the past night might, after all, have been a dream, until I caught sight again of the enormous flea-bites on my hands, which still smarted!

The Baron’s manner to me during breakfast was most affable!

After breakfast we left the inn together and strolled leisurely towards the Hall!

On the way the Baron made me acquainted with the particulars of[46] his case, and I promised to do the best I could to serve him!

Nevertheless, I saw at once that the Baron was most decidedly in the wrong!

I told him it was likely to go hard with him; in fact, I said I did not see how he could well get off!

The Baron frowned, and we walked on in silence towards the Hall!

That very day the case was tried at the assizes, and in spite of all my efforts, the Baron lost!

I will not weary you with the details of the case!

Suffice it that there was oppression and injustice on the part of the Baron which could not be excused, resulting from a morbid belief in his own importance!

After the court broke up the Baron led me in silence to the Hall and beckoned me to his room, the walls of which were covered over with every sort of weapon of defence under the sun!

There were pistols, daggers, blunderbusses, rapiers, broadswords, cutlasses, Malay creases, poisoned spear heads, a two-handed sword, probably belonging to his ancestor of cruel memory, and an iron bar to which were attached a chain and ball of spikes!

On entering the room he slammed the door, and turning suddenly upon me, he hissed out, “Paltry pettifogger, this is the second time that through your d–d bungling I have been brought to disgrace!

Not content with hanging me once, you have played me foul a second time!

But think not to escape me now,” and he cleared the room with one terrific stride!

(Now almost for the first time I noticed the enormous length[47] of the Baron’s legs!

) “Choose your weapons,” he cried, “and thank your stars that I don’t fell you on the spot as I would an ox!

” “But-but-I don’t see how you have a right to-to-I did all in my power to–” stammered I!

“I don’t think you ought to be offended!

Reflect, my dear Baron,” I said!

“I am sure, in your better mood, you will see the matter in another light!

” “No more prating, but choose your weapon,” screamed the Baron!

“Really, Baron,” I said, “this conduct of yours is contrary to all the generally received etiquette in duelling!

There are no seconds present, nothing regular!

I accept your challenge, if you really cannot be brought to reason, but if I die, it must be like a gentleman, in a regular duel, with all the usual ceremony!

” “Driveller! dost prate to me of ceremony? But have it your own way,” said the Baron!

“You do not escape me this time!

” “I will write to a friend of mine from town,” I said!

“Meanwhile, I have the pleasure of wishing your lordship a remarkably good morning!

” I opened the door and made for the staircase, but, with two immense strides, the Baron was at my heels!

“Take that, Sir Bungler,” cried he, and lifting one of his enormous legs, lunged forth a kick upon that part of my person anatomically known as the Glutæus Major, which sent me flying from the top of the[48] stairs to the bottom, at the imminent risk of breaking my neck; but, as good luck would have it, I landed safely on my feet!

Nevertheless the insult stung me to the quick!

I turned round indignantly, yet striving to master my passion, in order to preserve my dignity, and said, “Baron, you are no gentleman!

” With the yell of a wounded tiger, the Baron vaulted with one bound from the top of the staircase to the bottom, just as my hand was on the door!

I opened it and slammed it again in his face, and walked briskly in the direction of the village!

I heard the door open behind me and the Baron’s fearful footsteps after me!

I do not know what would have become of me, if just at that moment an over-driven bull had not come to my rescue and stood between me and the Baron!

Seeing a man striding towards him furiously, he imagined the attack was meant for himself, and accordingly stood on the defensive!

The Baron tried to pass, but the bull lowered his horns, and looked menacing, so he wisely retreated to his Hall!

Arrived at “The Swan,” I demanded pen, ink, and paper, and wrote to my friend in town to come to me for the purpose of performing the office of second, after which I endeavoured to kill time in this lonely village till dinner!

Feeling hungry, I made a sumptuous repast and turned into bed with feelings full of revenge towards the Baron!

“No more Phantom Fleas to-night,” I said to myself[49] as I tucked myself up in my comfortable little bed at “The Swan,” and soon fell into a sound sleep!

And now, said the lawyer, when he had got thus far in his narrative, I must root up an old and very painful subject that occurred in my early life, and which I would fain have allowed to rest for ever!

In my earlier days, when as yet I had no fixed profession, during my travels in Italy, I became enamoured of a beautiful Italian girl!

Poor Mariangela! how she loved me! That girl possessed the soul of an angel!

I see her before me now, with her sweet, dreamy, saintlike eyes, and her quiet graceful step!

We were never married, for I was not in a position then to support a wife!

She vowed that she would never love anyone else but me!

We parted, and-and-she died; died through love of me!

(Here the lawyer became visibly affected and hastily brushed away a tear-drop with his hand!

Mastering himself at length, he resumed!

) On her death-bed she sent for me!

I arrived just in time to catch her parting breath!

When I stooped down to kiss her she hung a small relic of some saint that had been blessed by the Pope, suspended with a piece of ribbon, round my neck, and begged me to wear it for her sake, and said that it would preserve me from all harm!

Poor girl! she died in my arms; I followed her to the grave and was for a long time inconsolable!

But time, that changes everything, changed me!

[50] A tender recollection of her past love only remained; the wild tumultuous passion I had felt for her while living, and the overwhelming grief I experienced at her death, had subsided!

For two years I wore the relic she gave me round my neck!

Not because I believed in its virtue, not being a Roman Catholic myself, but for her sake alone-in remembrance of her!

Afterwards, however, I wore it less often, and at length discontinued wearing it altogether!

I kept it still at the bottom of my trunk, between the leaves of a book!

This trunk I left in town when I went down to the Baron’s!

The key, I must tell you, I had lost a day or two before!

I was just thinking of sending for the locksmith when I received the Baron’s letter to come down to his place for a day or two!

I left town hurriedly and the box behind me, locked-the key lost!

Ever since poor Mariangela’s death, even long after I had ceased to think of her regularly, I have remarked that in those periods of my life when I was in any difficulty her spirit used to appear to me in a dream and counsel me, and being guided by her counsel, I found my way invariably out of my dilemma!

When weighed down by any great grief she was sure to appear and console me!

That night when I turned into my snug little bed at “The Swan,” no one was further from my thoughts than that poor Italian girl who loved me so well!

My thoughts were far too full of ill-feeling towards the Baron and the preparations for the coming duel to allow[51] room for anything else!

Nevertheless, I had a most remarkable dream towards morning!

I thought Mariangela came towards me as I lay in bed, and reproached me for having left off wearing the charm that she had hung round my neck!

“Your life is in danger,” she said!

“Good swordsman and expert with the pistol as you are, you are no match for the Baron with either, whose skill is from the Evil One!

Listen to me, and do not refuse my last petition!

Wear this round your neck, and it will protect you from all harm!

” Having spoken thus, she kissed me on the brow and vanished!

I awoke, and would you believe it, gentlemen, I found suspended round my neck that identical relic that I left at the bottom of my trunk in town, the key of which was lost!

Well, I could no longer doubt this being a spiritual visitation, so I left the relic there suspended!

In the course of the day my friend arrived!

The usual ceremonies were gone through, and the meeting was to be at sundown, in a wood belonging to the Baron’s estate!

A surgeon was also provided to bind up the wounds of the one who should fall, should they not be mortal!

As I was asked my choice of weapon, I chose the rapier, having at that time no inconsiderable skill in the use of it!

The hour arrived, and we met on the spot!

The Baron, at the sight of me, was unable to restrain his rage, and it was with difficulty that he was prevented[52] from breaking through every rule of etiquette appertaining to the duello!

Without waiting for the customary salute beforehand, he rushed at me sword in hand at the first sight of me like a savage!

The seconds interfered, and something like order was restored!

We advanced, retired, clashed swords, lunged, parried!

“Tierce, quarte, quinte, flanconade, single attack, double attack, lunge!

” The Baron lunged furiously, I parried, and the Baron was disarmed!

Without waiting for my permission to pick up his sword, he, disregarding all etiquette, made a sudden grab at it, and flew at me again in fury!

The Baron’s fencing was very wild!

He made three or four successive desperate lunges at me, but was foiled every time!

He grew more and more furious; he had never been accustomed to be thus thwarted!

I felt my hand grow lame, however!

It was like fencing with Mephistopheles!

To tire him out was impossible!

His long wind was his forte!

I could only try to match the Baron’s fury by the most guarded coolness and self-possession!

For some time past I had done nothing but parry, waiting calmly for an opportunity!

At length an opening presented itself!

I lunged, and the Baron fell, pierced right through the heart, at the foot of one of his own stately oaks!

He rolled up his eyes, and after death still retained the same expression of ferocity that he wore when living!

Thus died the last Baron –!

With his death[53] the line became extinct, and the property fell into other hands!

Duelling even in those days was fast falling into disuse, and I had to fly the country!

I travelled for many years, and at length returned home, but never from the day of the duel up to the present time have I once neglected to wear the pious relic of that poor Italian girl round my neck!

Bursts of applause followed the lawyer’s recital!

Mr!

Blackdeed said it ought to be dramatised; that it would “create a sensation,” and “bring down the house!

” The doctor shook his head gravely!

The chairman, in a short speech, proposed the health of the narrator, and expressed a hope that he might be free from all such clients for the future!

“Shiver my timbers!” cried Captain Toughyarn, “if that yarn won’t do for the marines!

Odds, blood and thunder, if I thought anyone but a tar could have spun such a yarn as that!

I tell you what it is, Hardcase, you’ve mistaken your calling!

You were meant for the sea!

” “I hope, Captain Toughyarn,” said the lawyer, “you don’t doubt the veracity of my statement!

” “Not I,” answered the captain, but with a most provoking look of scepticism, which belied his words!

“I do believe the captain’s a sceptic,” said the chairman!

“Take care, captain, the rules of this club are severe!

If any member or guest presumes to doubt the statement of any other member of the club, given[54] out by the said member as a fact, he shall incur the penalty of being forced to drink a cup of cold water on his bended knees, and–” “Ugh!” groaned the captain, before the chairman had finished his sentence!

“Well, chairman,” he said, humbly awed at the severity of the sentence, “I don’t mean to say that I’ll give a ‘lee lurch,’ and throw Mr!

Hardcase’s cargo overboard altogether; but the fact is I have been on shore so long, that I have got quite out of the way of shipping those sorts of goods into my hold, and it rather sticks in my tramway, but I have no doubt that another glass of grog will send it clean down, and that I shall find storage-room in my hull for that and as much more cargo as any of our messmates choose to ship this evening!

” “Hear, hear,” cried the guests, passing the bowl towards the captain, who, after having filled up his glass and drained it, declared himself ready to set sail!

“Another bowl, landlord!” shouted the chairman; “and whilst you are about it, you might bring up another log as well!

See how the cold makes the fire burn!

” Then, turning to his guest, Mr!

Vandyke McGuilp, he observed, “It is lucky you arrived in time to-night for our great meeting!

You have now heard a specimen of these stories, the fame of which has reached Rome!

” At this moment the host returned with a fresh bowl of punch, which was received with a murmur of approbation!

The landlord then stirred up the fire, and put on a fresh log!

It was getting late, but that[55] was nothing for the members of the “Wonder Club” on such an occasion as this!

“It’s freezing hard to-night, sir,” said the landlord to the chairman!

“Is it, mine host?” said Mr!

Oldstone, rendered still more good humoured under the influence of the punch!

“Then fill up a bumper and drink to the health of our club, after which you may sit down here and listen to the next story, if you can prevent falling asleep!

Our first story you have missed!

Oh, I can assure you it would have given you the horrors to have listened to it!

” Here our worthy host filled up a glass, and, nodding his head, drank to the long life of all the members and guests, and hoped that the club might have as many more anniversaries as there were hairs in the heads of all the members put together!

This sentiment was received with applause, and the health of the landlord was drunk with three times three!

He replied to it in a short, bluff, and unembarrassed speech, amid cheers; and rattling of glasses!

Then modestly taking a seat at some little distance from the table, filled his pipe, lighted it, and put himself into a listening attitude!

“It is your turn now, doctor,” said the chairman!

“We’re all waiting, and, mind, we all expect a good one!

On this evening, gentlemen, each one must strive to outdo his neighbour!

” “I cannot promise that I will outdo Mr!

Hardcase’s[56] narrative,” said the doctor, modestly, “but I will do my best to add to the entertainment of the company in my humble way!

” “Bravo, doctor!” cried several voices at once!

Mr!

Oldstone thumped the table and called out, “Silence, gentlemen; Dr!

Bleedem will favour us with a story!

” Silence immediately ensued, and the doctor began!

[57] CHAPTER II!

The Spirit Lovers!

-The Doctor’s Story!

I am about to relate, gentlemen, a curious incident in my medical experience, many years ago!

When I was yet a young practitioner I had already a numerous circle of patients, out of which it will be only necessary for me to bring two cases before you this evening!

The first was that of a young man of about four-and-twenty, whom I shall call Charles!

He was of good family, and his parents were moderately well off!

I was called to his bedside, the former doctor having been dismissed!

I had had some conversation with the parents of the young man before I was ushered into his presence!

They informed me that my predecessor had pronounced his disease “a rapid decline” and as incurable!

But the case had other peculiarities which puzzled him!

The brain, he said, was much affected!

The patient ate little, unlike other consumptive subjects, whose appetites are usually enormous!

He slept much, and talked much in his sleep, but in his waking moments he was irritable and restless, and preferred being left alone all day!

He could not even bear the sight of his own parents in his room!

He had his[58] regular hours of sleep, and always seemed to look forward to his hours of rest, especially to his nightly hours!

I questioned the parents as to how long he had been in this state!

They told me more than a year!

I inquired if any member of their family had ever died of consumption!

They replied that not one, either on the father’s side or the mother’s, bore the slightest trace of that malady, and that for many generations back the members of both families had lived to a good old age!

Neither of the parents could give the slightest account of how the disease originated!

Their son had been sent to the university two or three years before, where he had studied hard, but without having made up his mind to follow any particular profession!

They suggested that possibly over-study had sewn the seeds of the disease!

He was not, as they assured me, given to dissipation!

Having ascertained these particulars, I expressed a desire to see the patient, and was shewn into the sick-room!

The parents told me to prepare for a cool reception, as their son was not over partial to visitors, and especially doctors!

They then retired, leaving me alone with the patient, as I had previously requested them; for it has always been my policy to work myself as much as possible into the confidence of my patients, in order to obtain more minute particulars of their case which otherwise they might be reserved upon!

For this a tête-à-tête is absolutely necessary, as there are patients[59] who are reserved even in the presence of their nearest relatives and friends!

The young man, as I entered, was seated in bed, propped up by cushions!

He was in a thoughtful attitude, and for some moments seemed unconscious of my presence!

At length, hearing my footsteps, he started, glared wildly at me, and turned his face to the wall!

“Come,” I said, soothingly, “don’t be frightened; I am only the new doctor!

I have come to see if I can’t make something out of your case!

Come, turn round!

I daresay we shall be better friends before long!

What is this?” I asked, as I laid my hand upon a volume hidden under the clothes, and examined it!

“Ah, Shakespeare!” “Don’t touch it,” cried the young man, starting up with sudden energy!

“I never allow my Shakespeare to be polluted by strange hands!

” I was rather startled at this sudden burst of irritability from my new patient, especially in the exhausted state in which I found him, and not a little amused at the oddity of his caprice!

“You are a great admirer of Shakespeare?” I observed, after a pause!

He did not deign a reply, but fell back languidly on his cushions and closed his eyes!

“A great poet,” I continued!

“What insight into character! What knowledge of mankind! What a versatile genius! With what truth and exquisite feeling[60] he portrays both the king and the peasant, the courtier and the jester! How truly he seizes the leading characteristics of the Jew and the Christian in his ‘Merchant of Venice,’ to say nothing of his sublime imagination in the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ and in ‘The Tempest’; the exquisite humours, too, of his ‘Merry Wives of Windsor,’ and then there is his–” At this juncture my patient opened his eyes, and gave me a look that seemed to say, “Have you done yet?” and, after a pause, said aloud, “I thought you were the doctor!

” “Ah! truly,” said I, blushing slightly; “I am afraid, I weary you!

Pardon me if my enthusiasm for your great poet has carried me away from my professional duties!

But, to business!

How do you feel at present?” He eyed me with a peculiar expression, and said, “Do you really want to know?” “To be sure I do; haven’t I come–” “You have heard that I have been given over as incurable!

The last doctor was an older man than you!

What do you hope to effect?” “To effect a cure; I do not give you up!

I do not think your disease is consumption!

I hope in time to–” “To what?” he asked, nervously!

“Well, to be able to serve you!

” “No,” he cried, “not to serve me, but to cure me!

” “In curing you, shall I not serve you?”[61] “No!

I do not want to be cured!

Leave me to die, if you want to serve me!

” “Oh, my dear young man,” I cried, “don’t talk like that!

Your malady is not of the sort that you need fear death so soon!

” “Fear death!” he exclaimed!

“On the contrary, I seek death!

I desire to die!

” “What! you desire to die? A young man like you, in the pride of your youth, with the whole world before you!

What can make you so tired of your life?” “Because my life’s a burden to me!

” “Poor young man,” I said, “can you have suffered so much! Ah,” I muttered, half to myself, “youth has its sufferings as well as age!

” I was young myself then, and I had suffered!

I felt the deepest sympathy for my patient!

“If,” I resumed, “in curing you I could make life cease to be a burden–” “I would not accept the offer,” he replied!

“What should I gain by it? The grosser material part of my nature would be rendered more gross, more material; capable only of those delights that the grossest minds revel in, to the utter exclusion of those sublime visions and inspirations which visit the soul when least clogged with matter!

It would be to exchange a paradise for a pandemonium; high, exalted thoughts and feelings for low and grovelling ones!

No,” he said; “he who, like me, has tasted both lives will hardly throw away the higher for the lower!

“[62] I was puzzled by this last speech of his!

Was the brain really affected? Had I to do with a case of insanity? I studied his physiognomy for some time in silence!

He would have been called decidedly handsome; and yet that is not the word!

I should rather say beautiful, but the complexion was pallid and the face dreadfully emaciated!

The forehead was ample, but half-eclipsed by a mass of rich, chestnut hair that hung over his head in disordered waves!

The nose was Grecian; the mouth and chin classic; the eyes were large, dark, and lustrous, with an expression most unusual and indescribable!

If I may use the expression, he seemed to look through you and beyond you into space!

The expression was quite unlike the vacant stare of the maniac, for the look abounded with superior intelligence, but yet it was not that sort of intelligence which men get by mixing in the world!

His look had something unearthly in it-something of another world!

I could not altogether bring myself to believe that he was mad!

He would certainly have been called so by the world at large, which calls everything madness that does not come within its own narrow circle!

His madness was that his faculties were too acute, his nervous system too sensitive!

When he looked at me he seemed to read my inmost thoughts and answer them all with his eyes before I had time to open my mouth to give utterance to them!

I tried to reason with him, tried to show him that[63] very good health was compatible with the most exalted thoughts, etc!

But he always had an answer ready, and that, too, before the words were half out of my mouth!

He was a perfect study, and I took immense interest in him!

He, in turn, grew more docile and confiding, and after some five or six visits we were the best of friends!

I have said that he slept much and was given much to talking in his sleep!

It was on my third visit that I had some experience of this!

We were in the midst of an animated discussion, when he suddenly went off into a most profound slumber; more suddenly than I had ever before known anyone to fall asleep, and so resembling death that for some time I thought him dead!

At length his lips began to move, and for more than an hour he kept up a conversation with someone in his dream, part of which conversation I committed to paper!

“What!” he exclaimed, “this is the spot appointed, and no one near!

This is the trysting tree, yonder the blue mountains, here the rocks!

It is past the hour!

Oh, where is she? Will she not come? Must I return to that darkness mortals call life without seeing her, without hearing one word? Oh, Edith! shake off these bonds of flesh but for one hour, if, indeed, you also have a life of clay like me, and are not all spirit!

Can you not spare me one hour? Ah! footsteps! A bush crackles!

Edith, Edith! how glad I am you have come at last!

I was afraid you had been prevented!

Why are you so late? What do I see-tears? Tell me[64] what has happened!

Does your father know of our meetings? But how should he? Are we not in the spirit? Come, tell me all!

” Here a pause ensued, as if the lady he was addressing was speaking, during which time the expression of his face changed several times; first from one of deep tenderness, next, to that of profound melancholy!

He sighed, then again a bright smile illumined his countenance!

Occasionally a slight frown would cloud his brow for an instant, and his countenance bore a look of determination!

At length he spoke again in earnest tones!

“Come what may, I will never leave you!

Have I not sworn? Are you not mine to all eternity? We may never meet in the flesh; but what of that!

Are we not happier thus? Unshackled from that fearful darkness that wars against our spirits? Oh, that we may ever live thus! Would that we could become all spirit!

” Another pause ensued, and after some minutes he resumed!

“And how can your father’s paltry caprices affect us-whilst we are in the spirit, how can the weapons of the flesh attack us?” A pause, and then he said, “True, as you say, we are not always in the spirit, and then of course we must be subject to– But what is it you fear, Edith?” Again a pause!

“Do you know,” he began again, “that that is the[65] very thought that has been passing through my mind for some time past!

Oh, horrible! If one of us or both should get entirely cured, so that the doors of the flesh should close upon us for ever, our spiritual life desert us, without even the prospect of meeting in the flesh!” Here he groaned deeply!

“How long will this last, this dream of bliss? It began but a year ago!

If we could only escape altogether from our earthly bodies! but I feel that is impossible as yet; while I speak I feel attracted again towards clay!

I am unable to resist; I feel myself torn away!

I am going-going!

Farewell, Edith!

” The next moment he awoke!

I folded up the paper on which I had been writing and placed it in my pocket; then turned to my patient!

I have not given here one half of the conversation, I was unable to follow him with my pen the greater part of the time, for at times he would speak very rapidly, at other times sink his voice so low that I could not catch all he uttered!

“I am here again, then,” he muttered to himself, with a groan!

“When will this end?” “You have had pleasant dreams, I hope,” said I with a smile!

He looked at me suspiciously, and said, “You have heard me? Then you know all!” “What?” I asked!

“Why, all about that–” “I know nothing,” I replied!

“It is true you talked in your sleep; you have been dreaming!

“[66] “Call it a dream, if you like,” he said!

“I exist but in such dreams, and my waking life is to me but a nightmare!

” “Pooh! pooh!” I said!

“You must not take such a morbid view of things!

Your brain at present is in a state of fever!

We cannot expect always to be well!

I’ll give you a composing draught, and in time I hope–” “Throw physic to the dogs,” he replied, quoting from his favourite author!

“Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” “Perhaps,” said I, “I might manage to do that as well, if you will bide by my instructions!

” “Look here, doctor,” he said, at length, “I shall be very happy to see you whenever you come, to talk with you as a friend, as long as I remain upon earth, but I refuse point blank to take any of your medicine, so I don’t deceive you!

” I tried to expostulate; but how can one reason with a man who wants to die, and try to persuade him to take physic, itself nauseous, but to bring him back to the life which he despises? My task was a difficult one, but I bethought me of a plan!

I pretended to humour him, and took my leave, saying I would call again shortly!

On leaving the sick-room I entered the parlour, where the parents of the invalid awaited me, to hear my opinion of the case!

I told them that the patient’s nerves were in a most sensitive state; I had heard him[67] talk much in his sleep; that the brain wanted repose!

I told them that he had refused to take any of my medicine because he was tired of his life and did not wish to prolong it!

I then wrote out a prescription, which I told them to get made up at the chemist’s!

It was a composing draught which I desired them to administer in a tumbler of water, likewise pouring in some sweet syrup to hide the nauseous taste!

Whenever he complained of thirst this medicine was to be given him!

In this manner he would be forced to take my medicines, and might recover in spite of himself!

Before leaving the house I inquired of Charles’ mother if she were aware of any love affair of her son’s that might have sown the first seeds of this illness!

She replied in the negative, but that she was aware that he often mentioned a lady’s name in his sleep-the name “Edith!

” She assured me that there was not a single young lady of her acquaintance who bore that name; that she was at a loss to conceive how he could have made the acquaintance of any lady for the last two years without her knowing it, as he had led such a very retired life since he had left the university!

Truly, he might have made her acquaintance whilst at Oxford, but, then, he had never shown any symptoms of his present malady for long after!

I left the house, giving them all the hope I could, and promised to call again on the morrow!

The[68] morrow arrived, and I called again!

My draught had been administered, and I thought that my patient was a degree less nervous!

Whether it was my fancy or what, I know not, but it seemed to me that the invalid suspected I had been tampering with him!

He said nothing, but I thought I read it in his eyes!

“How did you sleep last night?” I asked!

“Well,” he replied; “but somehow I fancy that my dreams last night were less vivid!

” “Not a bad sign,” I observed!

“Dreaming is a bad thing-sign of a disordered stomach!

” “Some dreams-not all,” he replied!

“No, not all; but those very vivid dreams that you allude to all proceed from a bad digestion or over-heated brain!

” “Then, you set down all dreams to some physical cause?” “Certainly,” said I; “though the character of the dream will be shaped according to our waking thoughts!

” “Well, yes,” he replied, “generally it is so!

I myself once used to have those sort of dreams!

But have you never met with a patient who lived two separate existences, whose spirit during sleep wandered into those realms allotted to it; returning upon waking to the body, there to drag out a wretched existence in the world, among the hum of men, and pass his melancholy hours longing for the night, when his spirit would be again set free from its prison, to wander unrestrained through those realms of space untrodden by mortal foot?”[69] “Never,” I replied; “and if I were to meet with a man who imagined he passed two different existences, what proof have I that his dreams are nothing more than imagination? What proof have I that he really does live two separate lives?” “Proof such as you would desire to have I admit is difficult; but let us suppose a case!

What would you say if, in the course of a life-time’s experience, you were to find some few, very rare, cases of men as I describe, who believe, as you would say, that their spirit during sleep leaves the body and revels in a world of its own!

That you were to read of some few other cases of the same sort that have occurred now and then at rare intervals since the world began, and that the written description of that abode unknown to mortal tread, were to tally in every particular with the descriptions you yourself received from some of your patients?” “Well,” I replied, “I should say, either that my patients had been reading these old legends until their brains were turned, or that it was a malady, and, like all other maladies, was manifested by certain special symptoms!

Hence the similarity of the descriptions!

” “I knew that would be your reply,” he observed!

“Doctor, doctor,” he continued, shaking his head, “you have a great deal to learn!

” “Have you, then,” I enquired, “ever met with a man of that sort?” “I know one!

What should you say, doctor, if I myself was one of those men?”[70] “You! I should say that your imagination deluded you, that your present ill state of health is sufficient to account for any freak of the brain, however eccentric!

” “Deluded mortal,” he muttered!

“Alas! by what circuitous paths do men persistently seek for error, when the high road of Truth lies ever before their eyes!

” We discoursed upon various other topics, and I took my leave of Charles, leaving instructions with his parents concerning the treatment of their son, as I should not be able to call again for some days!

I had to attend a young lady in the country, the adopted daughter of a very old friend of mine!

I could not refuse to go, so I started next day by the mail!

Charles’ conversation had impressed me deeply, and I meditated upon it as I sat perched up outside the stage-coach!

I was sorry to leave him, for I had already felt quite an affection for him, independently of the interest I took in his case!

And who was this young lady that I was called upon to visit in such a hurry? I had never seen her, but for the sake of my friend who had benefited me in so many ways in the commencement of my career, I could not do otherwise than leave town for a short time!

I tried to picture to myself my new patient-some bread-and-butter girl with the mumps, hysteria, whooping-cough, or chicken-pox!

The picture I mentally drew of my lady patient was not sentimental; but,[71] the fact was, I was irritated at being obliged to leave such an interesting case as that in which I was engaged!

During the course of my drive I entered into conversation with the driver!

I asked him if he knew Squire L–!

He replied in the affirmative!

“Let me see,” said I, pretending not to know the squire over well, in order to draw him out, “the squire has no family, I think?” “None of his own, sir!

He has one adopted daughter, a foundling, found somewhere near Stratford-on-Avon!

The squire has adopted her ever since, and–” “What age is the young lady?” “Well, sir, she must now be hard upon four-and-twenty, though she did not look it last time I saw her!

” “As old as that!” I exclaimed!

“Then she will be getting married soon, I suppose?” “Not she, sir!

” “Why not?” I asked!

“Isn’t she personally attractive?” “Oh, I believe you, sir,” said the coachman, enthusiastically, and turning up his eyes!

“There is not a face in the whole place for miles round that can hold a candle to her!

” “Indeed!” I exclaimed!

“The squire is rich, too, as I hear, and I suppose she will be his heiress!

What is your reason for believing that she will not marry?” “Why, sir, she has such ill health; she never leaves the house!

Folks say as how she will never recover!

“[72] “Indeed, and how long has she been thus?” “About a year ago she was first seized; since then I have not seen her!

When I last saw her wasn’t she a beauty, neither!” “I suppose this illness will have pulled her down a little!

By the by, what is the nature of her complaint?” “Well, I hardly know, sir, and that’s the truth, what it is that do ail her!

Some folks call it consumption, others call it something else!

” “Who is her medical attendant?” I asked!

“Doctor W–, sir; lives down yonder!

” “What does he say it is?” “‘Pon my word, sir, I don’t think he knows more about it than other folks!

Them doctors, when they once gets into a house, there’s no getting them out again; and as for the good they do, they dose you, they bleed you-ay, bleed you in both senses of the word! Ha! ha! You know what I mean, sir!

” I was disgusted at the vulgar contempt of this man for the noble profession of which I myself was a member, and was determined not to laugh at his low wit!

I passed over his execrable joke with gravity, so as not to appear to see it!

“If the doctor knows so little about it,” I said, at length, “what do the people say it is? What is the popular opinion of the young lady’s malady? What are the symptoms?” I saw by the coachman’s countenance that he was rather surprised at the interest I took in the health of[73] the young lady, and I fancy he suspected that I was a doctor!

“Symptoms, sir!” he cried!

“Oh, sir, very strange ones, they say!

” “How strange?” I asked!

“Well, sir, there be a good many strange reports about the squire’s adopted daughter!

I b’ain’t a-goin’ to give credit to everything I hear, but folks do say–” here he lowered his voice almost to a whisper and looked mysteriously, first over one shoulder, then over the other!

“Well,” said I, “Folks say–” “Yes, sir, folks do say that the young lady, leastways, the squire’s adopted daughter, is-is–” (here he put his finger to his lips and looked still more mysterious)!

“Well?” said I, impatiently!

“That the poor young lady is under some evil spell-that she is bewitched!

” “Dear me! you don’t say so,” I exclaimed, with well-feigned astonishment!

“Yes, sir,” he replied; “leastways, so folks say about here!

” “How very dreadful! Poor young lady! Perhaps she is in love!

Love is the only witchcraft that ever came in the way of my experience,” I remarked!

“And sure, sir, you’re not far out there neither; for if there’s one thing more like witchcraft than another, it is that same love!

Lor’, bless yer, sir, don’t I remember[74] when I was courtin’ my Poll, how I’d stand under her winder of a rainy night for hours, just to get a peep at her shadow on the winder blind, and how I’d go for days without my beer, till folks didn’t know what to make of me? Ah! but I got over it, though, in time!

I got cured, but” (here he gave me a knowing look) “it wasn’t by a doctor!

No, sir, it wasn’t by a doctor,” he said, with a contemptuous emphasis on the last word!

“Now, who do you think it was by, sir, that I got cured?” he asked!

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” I replied, dryly, disgusted at the man’s manner!

“Why, the Parson! to be sure,” he exclaimed!

“Ha, ha!” giving me a dig in the ribs with his undeveloped thumb!

“Yes, sir, the parson beat the doctor out and out in that ere business!

He, he!” I dare say the joke was very witty, but I was in no humour for laughing just then; yet, after all, he did not know I was a doctor, so I condescended to give a grin, a spasmodic grin like that a corpse may be supposed to give when the risible muscles are set in motion by the wires of a galvanic battery!

He then began to relate to me some of the many superstitions afloat concerning the above-mentioned lady, till I grew curious to make the acquaintance of my new patient!

In the middle of one of his long stories, he pointed out to me the house of my friend Squire L–, so I descended and walked up the hill leading to his house!

[75] Arrived there, I rang, and was shown into the parlour, and upon giving my name, was soon cordially received by my old friend!

We had not met for years!

He had much to tell me, and seemed very much concerned about the health of his adopted daughter, whom he loved as if she had been his own flesh and blood!

His wife soon entered, and having expressed much pleasure at seeing me after so long, began giving me the peculiar symptoms of the lady’s case!

“I do not know what to make of her, my dear doctor,” she said; “for a whole year past she has not been the same girl!

She will not eat, nor see anyone; seems quite estranged towards us, gets nervous and irritable if anyone approaches her; sleeps much and talks much during her sleep, and frequently imagines in her dream that she is holding conversation with a young man whom she addresses as Charles!

” I started!

The lady and her husband both noticed my emotion, and inquired into its cause!

I told them that the case of their adopted daughter so nearly resembled the case of a young man in London whom I was still in the habit of attending, that the similarity of the symptoms struck me with no little surprise!

“Indeed, doctor,” said the lady!

“Is it possible that there can be two such extraordinary cases in the world?” I mused a little, and then observed, “You do not think, do you, that the first cause of this strange malady was some little affair of the heart?”[76] “Oh, dear no, doctor,” she replied!

“I am certain of it!

The girl has never had the opportunity of forming the acquaintance of any young men!

She has never left this village in her life, though she has often begged me to take her to London; but somehow I–” “What! you say she has never been to London-not even for a day?” “Never,” she replied!

I began musing to myself, when I was interrupted from my train of thought by the voice of the patient calling out, in agonising tones, “Charles! Charles!” “Edith, my love! what is the matter?” cried Mrs!

L–, rising and leaving the room!

“Edith!” I muttered to myself!

“How strange! What a strange link between the two cases!

” I did not know what to make of it all!

However, I kept the particulars of Charles’ case to myself for the present, and determined to investigate the matter closely!

“Can I see the patient?” I asked of my old friend!

“Certainly; we will go together,” he said!

“Thank you, but I should prefer a private interview with her, if possible!

Patients sometimes will not be communicative to the doctor in presence of others, even though they be their own relations!

It is always my plan to–” “Ah, exactly, doctor,” he replied; “but I am afraid she will not give you a very warm reception!

” “Oh,” I replied, “as to that, I am accustomed to the very worst of receptions from some of my patients!

“[77] My friend led me to the chamber of the young lady, whom I discovered in bed, propped up by cushions, talking to Mrs!

L–!

“This is Dr!

Bleedem, my love,” said the squire!

“Now, don’t be shy, but tell him all that you feel the matter with you!

I shall leave him alone with you!

Don’t be nervous; he is a very old friend of mine!

” Then, beckoning to his wife, he drew her away, and left me alone with my patient!

The first thing that struck me upon entering the chamber was the remarkable likeness my new patient bore to Charles!

They might well have been brother and sister, though the hair of Edith was dark and her eyes a deep grey!

The features were wonderfully alike, and the eyes had that same strange unearthly expression I have already described as belonging to Charles!

Contrary to my expectations, she received me most civilly; very differently to the manner in which I was treated by Charles on our first interview!

I was at a loss to account for this, as my friend had warned me not to hope for a very warm reception!

“Oh, doctor!” she exclaimed, “I am so glad you have come!

Your presence brings me relief!

You are the only person whose sight I have been able to tolerate for this last year and more!

” I was thunderstruck!

What could she mean? “Some caprice, I suppose!

Perhaps my old friend has been putting in a good word for me!

” “No, doctor,” she said, answering to my thoughts in[78] a manner that perfectly amazed me; “no; it is not as you think!

The squire never told me until this moment that you were an old friend of his!

It is not for that that I feel myself drawn towards you by some almost unaccountable sympathy; but, to tell you the truth, doctor, I have long felt the want of someone to confide in, and you are just the one; you must forgive my boldness, if it offends you, whom I should like to make my father confessor!

” I smiled at the innocent want of restraint with which she uttered these words, and said I should be most happy to fulfil the office!

“Should you, doctor?” she replied!

“Well, I shall be most unreserved towards you, and I hope you will return the compliment, and tell me all it is in your power to communicate!

” I looked surprised, and asked, “Of what-of whom would you hear?” “Doctor,” she said, fixing upon me those deep grey orbs, with a glance that seemed to read my inmost soul, “do not deceive me; you know that you have been with him!

” “Who can she mean?” I mentally asked!

“Can she mean Charles?” “Yes,” she answered to my thought, “with him-with Charles!

Hide nothing from me, doctor!

I see you look surprised that I should know where you come from; but my senses are too keen, too abnormally acute, not to perceive that you carry about you the[79] particles of his being as unmistakably as if you had been amongst roses or honeysuckles!

Can I be deceived when you come to me directly from the chamber of the only man I ever loved in my life, with the atoms of his nature clinging to you? Think you that I know aught of your doings? That I have been informed as to where he lives? I tell you, No; I know nothing but what my senses tell me!

I feel you have been with him, and whatever you might tell me to the contrary would not make me believe otherwise!

” “Well,” I said smiling, “I don’t deny that I have just come from a patient in London, whose name is Charles; but London is large, and there are many Charleses!

” “I do not care where your patient is-whether at London or the North Pole, I shall probably never come across him; in fact, I don’t see that it would aid matters much if I were to!

I have never seen him-that is to say, with these eyes-and probably never may,” she said, with a deep sigh!

“Do I understand you to say that you have never seen this young man you talk about, and yet you take so much interest in him?” “Never with the eyes of the body,” she replied!

“How, then?” I asked!

“With the eyes of the spirit!

” “That is to say,” I resumed, “that this young man named Charles is but a creature of the imagination-that he has no real existence!

“[80] “Oh, pardon me,” she replied; “decidedly he has an existence-a double one!

A bodily one, of which I know nothing; and a spiritual one, of which I know more!

” “How?” I asked!

“You have never seen him in the flesh, but are yet acquainted with his spirit!

Does the spirit leave his body and appear to you?” “Precisely so!

” “Oh! but these are hallucinations, my dear young lady,” I said, “that patients in your state of health are frequently subject to!

” “No, doctor; say not so,” she answered!

“It is now more than a year since, that in my dream, as I was walking alone in a beautiful garden, I met a young man, also quite alone and reading!

He was of extraordinary personal beauty!

He looked at me a moment and passed by!

The very next evening I had the same dream-there he was again!

The dream was so very vivid, that I could not believe it to be one of those ordinary dreams so common to persons suffering from indigestion!

There was such a reality about the whole-the garden, the terraces, the old house-altogether had too much truth about it to have been a dream!

” “And what do you think it was, if not a dream?” I asked, smiling!

“Nothing less,” she replied “than a glimpse into that world so zealously guarded from our mortal eyes as to make us doubt of its existence, or, at least, to hold it as something so ethereal and visionary that we tremble[81] even to speculate on it; but which, nevertheless, exists, has existed, and will exist to all eternity in form as palpable as the earth we this day inhabit!

” I mused a little, then said, “Dreams are often very vivid; I know that by experience, but upon waking I have always been able to account for them in some way or other!

” “Don’t call this a dream of mine, doctor,” she said!

“In everything it is most unlike the dreams of your experience!

Those you allude to are vivid only for one night, and disperse into air on waking!

Such is not the case with my dreams!

The dream of each night to me is the continuation of the dream of the preceding night, and this has been regularly going on for more than a year, each dream being crowded with a series of events such as would be sufficient to fill up a lifetime; and so vivid, indeed, is the colouring of everything in these visions, that I no more doubt in a double existence than that I am talking to you at the present moment!

In awaking, too, I find, that instead of vanishing like an ordinary dream, I bear ever afterwards the strongest recollection of everything that has happened during my period of sleep!

” “Indeed!” I exclaimed!

“It is very strange!

I am just attending a young man in London who shares your complaint!

The case is a rare one; I never came across one before at all like it!

The coincidence about the whole affair is so strange, too!

His name happens to be Charles, and whilst talking in his sleep as they[82] tell me you do, I have heard him mention the name Edith!

Your name, is it not?” “‘Tis he! ‘Tis he!” exclaimed my patient, enthusiastically, throwing up her arms and clasping her hands above her head!

“I knew it, I knew it! But tell me more about him, doctor! I did not see him last night, and I was so unhappy!

The night before he appeared to me less distinct than he had ever done before!

Oh, doctor,” she cried, in an agonising tone, “you are curing him, you are curing him!” much in the same way as she might have called out, “You are killing him!” “Yes, I hope to some day!

There is no great harm in that, I suppose?” I remarked!

“Oh, yes, indeed!” she cried; “you are imprisoning his spirit within his body, and I shall never see him again!

” “Well,” I thought to myself, “this is about the oddest courtship I ever heard of; but,” I continued, aloud, “supposing I could cure you both; then, afterwards, you might meet in the flesh; and how much better that would be!

You would preserve your health and–” “No, no,” she cried!

“Do you think our joys could be half so intense, so ethereal, in a fleshly life as when walking in the spirit? No, doctor, have mercy upon both of us, and leave us to die; we shall then be all spirit!

” “Charles’ sentiments exactly,” I muttered!

[83] “Are they not?” she said, brightening up!

“He, then, has let you into the secret of this phenomenon of his being! Oh, doctor,” she exclaimed, “don’t, don’t, cure him!” She spoke with such agony of feeling, that I could not help feeling the deepest sympathy for her, and I actually for a moment began to waver in my duties as a medical man!

I began to think that, if, as it now appears, two human beings, having never met in the body, are nevertheless by some occult law of nature, permitted to hold communion with each other in the spirit as lovers, what cruelty in me to try and cut short their happy time of courtship! Would it not be kinder in me (seeing that the order of their beings differs so from that of the rest of the herd) to go against the common duties of my profession, and instead of trying to remedy the malady, to accelerate it, till it resulted in death!

“But no,” I said to myself, immediately; “my reputation, my conscience!

What! I a poisoner! No,” I said; “we must all die some day, and my two lover patients must hold out in this life a little longer!

Death comes soon enough for all, and then, if their spirit love was as lasting as it appeared to be intense, they might resume their amours after this mortal coil was doffed!

What are a few paltry years compared with the immeasurable gulf of eternity?” Thus I mused, but suddenly I said, “You will not mind taking a little light physic, will you?” “What! to make me well!” she exclaimed!

“To[84] imprison my spirit within my body, as you have done Charles’!

But stay, if I take your physic, it will not be yet!

I will wait to see if Charles is really lost to me for ever!

If he does not appear again all this week, then his spirit has no longer power to wander from the body, and if he is lost to me, why should I wander about in the spirit seeking him in vain? I might just as well be cured as not!

” “Very well,” I said; “then, for the present it is needless to administer any medicine?” “Not at present, doctor,” she said!

I took up my hat to go, and said that I would call again soon and would bring her tidings of Charles; that I was going there straight from her!

“Stay, stay,” she said!

“You have told me nothing about him as yet!

” “Well, my dear young lady,” I said, “I really do not know what to tell you about him!

Like yourself, he refused to take my medicine, and–” “What, he refused! Then how is it that he is getting well? That he does not appear to me now? Doctor, you have had something administered on the sly!

I know it!