a person of less science, or more superstition, have passed current as a most undoubted ghost story:

Mr Schmidt, mathematical teacher at the school of Pforte, near Naumburg, slept in a room in the academy, which had formerly been a cloister, and waking, one morning, as it began dawn, he saw, as he thought, a monk standing at the foot of his bed. On looking at him stedfastly, he appeared to be fat, and his head almost sunk between his shoulders. He raised himself in his bed; but the apparition did not move; he only saw somewhat more of it, and the folds of the surplice which it wore were more conspicuous. He then moved his head towards it, on which the figure began to retreat backward, but still with its face towards the bed. Following the apparition with his eyes, it retreated with speed, swelling to a gigantic form, and all at once was changed into the gothic window with white curtains, which was opposite the bed's foot, and about six or seven feet distant from it.

Several times after this, Schmidt endeavoured to see the same appearance, but to no purpose; the window always preserving its usual appearance. About a week afterwards, however, happening, as before, to wake in the grey light of morning, he again saw this corpulent sprite at his bed's foot. Being now aware what occasioned the appearance, he examined it more narrowly. The great arch of the window formed the monk's shoulders,-a smaller arch in the centre, his head,—and the curtains the surplice. Schmidt, who was short-sighted, accounts very mathematically for all these phenomena, by the peculiar state of the eye at the moment of awaking, from some moisture which had accumulated on it during the night, and its gradual return to its usual state; though, as his demonstration is a little tedious, it is needless to extract it.

mills, into some "terrible and superhuman adventure." But the progress of science has sadly abridged the empire of the supernatural in this quarter. The spectres of the Hartz mountain have sunk into the mere effects of the sun's rays; chemistry has clapped an extinguisher on the corpse-candles, which have now dwindled into ignes futui; and Sir Humphry Davy has tamed that malignant spirit of the mine, whose visitations had been so fatally frequent, under the shape of Fire Damp.

In thus labouring to reduce the sum-total of these spiritual vísitations, I may seem to have retracted the avowal with which I set out. But such is by no means my intention. If I narrow my field of operations, it is in the hope of being able to act with more security in what remains; just as a politician sacrifices a part, to retain the remainder; or as the governor of a fortress, in the hour of danger, expels every doubtful ally from the garrison, and trusts his defence rather to the efforts of the faithful few, than the suspicious many. Admitting that many of these tales are obviously incredible, even from internal evidence, and that, in others, the evidence of the senses is to be rejected altogether, or received with extreme suspicion, I hesitate not to say, that there remains behind a large class which is liable to neither of these objections; when, in the first place, the end and purpose of the visit was obvious and adequate; and when, secondly, no suspicion could reasonably be entertained of the coolness and courage of the observer; where inen of profound science, undaunted courage, and tranquillity of temper, have given their testimony to the' reality of such appearances. What reasonable objection can we frame to that of the firm and philosophic Brutus? What shall we say to the evidence of Ammianus Marcellinus", or how impugn his account of that figure which attended the emperor Julian, which quitted him before the death of Constantine, and again appeared to him, crossing his tent, with a sad countenance, and a melancholy gesture, the night before his fatal

Amm. Mar. in Vit. Julian.-E. XXI.

battle with the Persians? What shall we say to the following strange story, told by Pliny, in his letter to Sura, among several other tales of apparitions, and which, from the tone of the letter, it is evident that that great man himself believes? A large house in Athens became deserted by its inhabitants, from frightful noises which were heard in it, and the spectre of an old man, bound with chains, which had been seen by them every night. Terror had bewildered their senses, and want of sleep brought a distemper upon them, which was followed by death. The house, being abandoned, was advertised at a low price. Athenodorus, the philosopher, came to Athens-read the inscription by chance-suspected the lowness of the terms-was informed of the whole--and took the house immediately. At night, he removed his family to the inner-part of the house, ordered his writing materials, and a light to be placed for him in the front apartments, and applied himself closely to writing, to prevent the intrusion of those imaginary fears and appearances, which the mind is apt to figure to itself when unoccupied. At first, there was a profound silence in the house, as at other times; but soon after, the distant clanking of chains was heard. The sound came nearer, and was heard, sometimes without, at other times within the apartment. The philosopher looked up, and perceived the spectre as it had been described to him, standing still, and beckoning with its finger. After some delay, he obeyed the signal, took his light, and followed it. It stalked slowly along, as if overloaded with its chains, turned into a court belonging to the house, and vanished. Athenodorus, when he was left alone, marked the spot with some weeds and leaves. The

next day he went to the magistrates, and procured an order for digging on the spot. It was done, and several bones were found, bound up and entangled with chains, while the flesh, putrified by time, or eaten away by the irons, was entirely gone. These were gathered up and buried publicly; and, by this ceremony, the house was freed from its troublesome visitor.

When a person gets into a story

telling humour, on a subject such as this, it is the most difficult thing in the world to stop. I shall only trespass on the reader's patience, however, with one other anecdote, which, as it occurs in a work not much known in this country*, may, perhaps, be new to him. The Marquis de Rambouillet, and the Marquis de Precy, both young, and intimate friends, were serving together in the wars. One day they happened to be conversing about the affairs of another world, of the existence of which neither, at that time, felt very strongly persuaded. They promised that, in order to settle the point, the first who died should return, to describe his situation to the survivor. Rambouillet soon after set out with his regiment for Flanders. Precy, who was about to follow, was detained by a fever in Paris. He was long ill, and was just beginning to recover, when looking out of bed one night, he perceived his friend Rambouillet in the room. He rose to embrace him, but the other, with a wave of his hand, declined the compliment. He then told him, that he had been killed in Flanders the evening before, that all he had heard of another world was too true, and that it was time for him to pursue a very different line of conduct. He then disappeared. Precy roused the house, and related the story, which only procured him the character of an absurd visionary, till the news of Rambouillet's death, which arrived soon after, silenced his incredulous acquaintances. Precy engaged in the civil wars, and was soon after killed at the battle of St Antoine. This tale will probably recall to the reader's recollection a similar story of two collegians at Oxford, which occurs in the Gentleman's Magazine, and which scems to be proved as strongly as such a circumstance can be.

In no question could the argumentum ad verecundiam, from the authority of great names, be employed with more effect. Should I be ashamed to entertain an opinion, which was recognised as true by a soleinn decision of the Sorbonne in 1518-which was admitted, in numerous cases, by the parliament of Paris, and con

• Memoires de Rochefort.

firmed by the Faculty of Theology in 1724? Even so late as the year 1726, a trial, by appeal, took place before the parliament of Aix *, founded on the supposed discovery of a treasure, by means of a spirit; and though the imposture was detected in this particular case, the truth of the general principle was assumed on the one side, and admitted on the other, almost without contest or contradiction. Shall I be ashamed of that which Bacon considered probable †,-which Johnson openly believed,-which Addison modestly, but distinctly avows? No; when I find myself fortified by such authorities, and meet with narratives, proved, as far as I can see, by competent and unexceptionable witnesses, I confess it appears to me far more philososophical to admit the fact, than to refuse my belief to their clear and unbiassed testimony. If it is absurd to believe such narratives, it is certainly much more so to endeavour to explain them by such chemical systems as those of Gaffarel and de Vallemont. What can be more gravely ridiculous, than the following reasoning, which I have endeavoured to compress from the "Curiositez Inouies" of the former? "As objects," says he, "are perceived by impressions caused by them on the brain, and vibrations in the nerves, it is probable the vibrations on the nerves, and the consequent perception, may continue long after the object which first caused them is removed, just as the pain of a blow continues after the removal of the striking body." Besides, if the movement of the nerves is communicated to the brain, why may not the movement of the brain be recommunicated by some other channel to the nerves, and thus produce the same effect or one but little weaker than the original perception? But being rather apprehensive of the stability of this precious fabric of reasoning, he subjoins another explanation, for the satisfaction of those heretical personages who still persist in thinking the objects of their terror external.

This may be," says he, " for luminous vapours arise from putrid

Causes Célébres, Tom. 12. + De Angm. Scientiarum.

bodies, which preserve the same situation and form in issuing from the ground, as at the moment they quitted the carcase; and, of course, will exactly represent the shape of the body that produced them: and that this does not happen in day-light, is owing to the coldness of the nightair, which condenses these vapours, and prevents their dispersion." From this, then, we may explain those appearances which are frequently seen in church-yards, and fields of battle, which are nothing more than these forms of condensed vapour, proceeding from the bodies interred there. Certainly, if the doctrine of spirits is never attacked but by these redoubtable arguments of Jacques Gaffarel, the dynasty of the invisible world is not likely to be speedily overthrown.

And, after all, what is there in such a belief so disagreeable, that science and philosophy, true or false, thus set themselves in array against it? Does it weaken the evidence of religion? Does it trench on any of the attributes of the Deity? Is there any thing in such a belief that can weaken the hopes, or increase the fears, of the good and the virtuous? No. The inhabitants of the grave have no terrors, but for the guilty. The form which shook the mind of Dion, was regarded with firm tranquillity by the stoical virtue of Brutus, and the mild philosophy of Julian. To the good, there is something in this intercourse not dispiriting or revolting, but elevating and ennobling. The ancients believed that a Genius attended every man from the hour of his birth, as the guide and director of his conduct, but visible only to those illustrious for their virtues*. But how much more consoling the reflection, that after death has snapped asunder the ties of this earthly communion and fellowship, those friends who have been withdrawn from our eyes, become, in their turn, the guardian Genii, who watch over the happiness of the survivors, and influence their fates and fortunes, even from that unknown coun

* Απαντι δαιμον ανδρι ςυμπαρίσταται Ευθυς γενομένω μυςταγωγος το βιο Αγαθος. Menander in Frag.

try which they have reached, and where we hope at last to rejoin them! Under the weight of misfortune, the depression of grief, or the desertion of friends, there are moments, when, far from regarding such visitations with terror, we could cling to them with eagerness, as the alleviation of suffering. We can then sympathise with the enthusiasm of the visionary Petrarch, when, in the solitudes of Vaucluse, and by the waters of the Sorga, he invokes the shade of his departed Laura, or pours forth his gratitude for those visits, which, in the stillness of night, consoled his affiction. When I gaze from my window, upon the loveliness of the scene without; that broad full moon now rising high in the heavens; those clustered stars which sparkle in the depth of the unclouded azure; that varied plain, here rising into silver light, there sinking into shadow; and those aged and massy trees, through which the moon-beams play with such fantastic variety; I feel, that, "in such a place as this, at such an hour," if descending spirits can indeed converse with man, I could summon up courage to bear the conference. Spirits, I say, of those whom I have loved and lost, let me look on you once more! Let me peruse again your beloved lineaments; the venerable aspect of parental care -the vivacity of brotherly affection -the softened tenderness of a sister's love! Ye have no terrors for him, who, sick of the tumults of this world, has long since fixed his thoughts upon another, and who will look on you as the messengers of peace and consolation, not as the ministers of evil, or the harbingers of

sorrow.

THE FEELINGS AND FORTUNES OF A SCOTCH TUTOR.

"Sed vos savas imponite leges," &c.

Juv. Sat. 7., sub finem. A SCOTCH tutor is a being in a state of transition from the humble obscurity in which he is usually born and educated, to the respectability and usefulness of a Presbyte rian clergyman. Ascending, by a gradual transition, from rusticity and

ignorance, through all the various modifications of middle, and even of what may be termed higher, life, he not unfrequently exhibits, in succession, the sheepishness and clownishness of the rustic, the conceit and pomposity of the pedant, the frippery and frivollity of the beau, the smartness and petulance of the wit, the pertinacity and obesity of the disputant-with all the morbid sensibility of the man of feeling. From the nature, likewise, of that dependence upon the will and the caprice of another, to which he is unavoidably subjected, he usually contracts a kind of jealous and testy independence, which accompanies him through all his gradations, and which, more, përhaps, than any other circumstance, serves to classify and mark his character. His opportunities of observation, too, are neither few nor unfavourable; for whilst neither father nor mother, neither menial nor dependent, think it worth while to conceal or to disguise their character, in the presence of the poor, dependent tutor, his eyes, if he is actually possessed of eyes, are open, and he bas sufficient leisure, as well as education, to turn all these opportunities to account, in the shape of observation and reflection. It being his province at table, and in the presence, particularly, of company, to listen rather than to speak to solve difficulties rather than to start them-to eat his pudding, drink his glass of wine, and retire, rather than melt down into, and commix himself with, the after-dinner confabulation; he must be possessed of less natural shrewdness than Scotsmen are generally endowed with, and of more good nature than usually falls to the lot of his cloth, if he do not, upon all this, play the censor and the satirist at his leisure; making up in one way, for what he is compelled to relinquish in another. Yet, with all these cynical tendencies, which are heart is open, in a singular measure, the consequences of his condition, his to the accession of kindness and good will; and should any individual, in the family where his lot, for the time, is cast, single him out by friendly attentions, it will go hard with him indeed if he do not prove himself grateful. Of all others, female con