CHAPTER III.

NOW COMES THE MYSTERY--A MAN GOES IN A CAB IN SEARCH OF HIS OWN GHOST.

“Perhaps three minutes elapsed before a full recovery took place, and, at the end of that period, I had come to the conclusion not to be baulked in quite such a cavalier style, but to seek and obtain one more interview, come what might therefrom. With this intention, I dashed along the hill-side, and at full speed through the principal thoroughfare of Belleville, till I reached the barrière leading into the Rue Faubourg du Temple, where, calling a cabriolet, I ordered the driver to land me in the Rue Michel le Compte--where, a few hours previously, I had dined with Ravalette--in the shortest possible space of time.

“A curious thing took place while giving my orders to the driver. It was this: Everybody knows that, at any of the barrières leading from Paris, a large crowd of blouses, men and of office, women and children of the lower orders, may, in fair or foul weather, always be found--loiterers, having nothing to do, apparently, except to lounge about, to see and be seen. Such a crowd I found at the barrière, and amidst it I noticed a _bonné_, or nurse, having in charge three beautiful children, one of whom, a lad of seven years, appeared to take an unusual interest in myself, doubtless observing that I was in a great hurry to accomplish something. This child, as it saw me, ran to the nurse, and said, ‘_Ma bonné_, Franchette, what’s the matter with the gentleman? Is he sick? What makes him look so queer?’

“‘Hush, child,’ said the woman in reply; ‘that gentleman is in search of what he won’t find this long time!’

“‘What is that, Franchette?’

“‘That gentleman is in search of _his own ghost_, _mes enfants_!’ replied the nurse, as the children clustered around her to hear the answer.

“‘_Ma foi!_’ echoed the crowd of idlers, as they caught the woman’s words--whether spoken in jest or seriously I cannot say--‘_Ma foi!_ the gentleman takes a cab to go in search of his own ghost!’ And the cab drove off as these words were echoed by a hundred tongues.

“‘What the devil does it mean?’ asked I of myself, rather irreverently, as a Guebre would say, had one heard me. ‘What does it mean?’ What put such a queer notion as that in the woman’s head?’ And, while cogitating for an answer, the cab stopped before the required gateway. Hastily dismounting, I paid the man half a gold louis, refused the offered change, but, dismissing him with a word of praise at his alacrity, I hastily rang the bell to summon the concierge or porter. That personage speedily made his appearance, all the quicker from the unwonted vigor applied to the bell-rope.

“‘Is your master in the house, _mon ami_?’

“‘_Oui, monsieur_: he has not been absent to-day.’

“‘What! Not been absent, when he left me not thirty minutes ago? Impossible! Monsieur Ravalette _must_ have been absent.’

“‘But who _is_ Monsieur Ravalette? I know of no such person. Monsieur Jacques d’Emprat is my master, and not the person you have mentioned!’

“Here was a fresh mystery. ‘Call Monsieur Jacques d’Emprat, if you please.’

“‘_Certainement, monsieur._ Jeanette, my dear, go upstairs and tell the patron here’s a gentleman wants to see him.’

“Jeanette, a little girl of twelve years, flew to execute the errand, and in a few moments the landlord himself appeared; and I was surprised to find that the well-aproned butler who had attended upon us at dinner and the proprietor of the house were one and the same person. An explanation soon followed, and I learned that Ravalette, who was an entire stranger to the landlord, had come there _two_ days previously for the purpose of engaging a sumptuous dinner for _two_ persons, that being the landlord’s business--a caterer. For the dinner he had paid a round price in advance, and had given the proprietor a small silver coin of peculiar workmanship as a memorial of his visit. This coin or medal the man produced, and, lo! it was a perfect fac-simile, on a larger scale, of the jewel I had that very day examined in the scarf of Ravalette at Belleville. To my question as to when he last saw my mysterious friend, the patron answered: ‘I do not know him, where he is, when I next shall see him--nothing whatever. He left with you, and has not since returned. He is evidently a mysterious man; and were it not that I have this little medal to commemorate his visit, together with three hundred and ten francs in gold in my pocket, which he paid me for the wines and dinner, I should more than half believe that he was the Devil himself out for a lark in Paris. But the Devil never pays in gold, so those say who ought to know, and I am sure Ravalette paid me in bran new coin, which, on account of its beauty and full weight, I just tied up in one end of my long leather purse, meaning to give it to my daughter, at school in Dijon, for a birth-day gift. Here’s the money, as you perceive, nicely tied up, and sealed with wax, just as I fixed it an hour or two after Ravalette paid me.’

“With these words the honest landlord drew forth a most formidable-looking _bourse_, one end of which was, as he said, securely tied with twine, and sealed with a great blotch of red wax.

“‘Yes, monsieur, here’s the cash; I cannot show it to you, because I don’t like to break the string or wax; but as a sound is worth as much as a sight, you shall hear it jingle to your heart’s content.’

“And so saying, he struck the purse against the side of the gateway; but, instead of the merry clink of gold coin, we heard only the dull sound of a far less valuable metal. This startled him not a little. He changed color, then drew his knife, and in an instant cut the string, and emptied the contents of the purse upon his open palm.

“Horrible! Instead of bright golden Louis, he held in his hand a small pile of leaden disks? Each one of these disks had a number and a letter on it, and one of them was engraved, on the obverse side, with the simple words--‘Place the coins in order.’ We did so, and found that each letter formed part of a word. When they were all placed, the inscription read, ‘All is not gold that glitters!’

“My soul quailed before the mystery. I could scarcely move or speak, so great was my bewilderment; and as for the patron, it is impossible to describe his terror and consternation, as he stood there, with open mouth and protruding eyeballs, gazing on the coins upon the board where he had laid them. I too looked upon them; and even while we did so, a terrible thing took place; for the letters upon the disks changed color before our very eyes, first to a light blue, changing to deep crimson, and finally assuming a blood-red color. When, at the end of thirty seconds, this color did not change, we looked closer at them, and, to our absolute amazement, found that the characters themselves had altered, and instead of the sentence above quoted, we read the following:

“‘Remember Ravalette! Fear not!’

“With a cry of agony the man dashed the accursed coins to the ground, and instantly fell himself in a deathly swoon. A great excitement now ensued. The porter, Jeanette, and half a dozen other inmates, rushed to the assistance of their fallen master.

“Tenderly and carefully we bore him into the house, and speedily resorted to those well-known means of restoration used in such cases, which it were superfluous to mention; suffice it that, at the expiration of half an hour, the man revived, and bidding him and the rest a short good-bye, and promising to return on the morrow if I did not quit Paris, I took my departure.

“Before I left, however, it occurred to me that I would secure the marvellous coins, or, at least, a few of them; and for this purpose I, accompanied by the _concierge_, who had seen his master dash them away, went into the court-yard where he had thrown them. Carefully and long we searched over the smooth stone pavements. The marks where they had struck were there, but not a single coin could be found. It was absolutely certain that no person _in_ the house had picked them up, for all these were in attendance on the patron. It was equally certain that no one from the street had done so; for the gate was fast bolted and shut, and had been ever since I had entered the premises to inquire of the porter.

“At length we gave up the task of finding them as utterly hopeless. I looked at the porter and shook my head; the porter looked at me and shook his head in return, as much as to say, ‘It is a very strange affair!’ At that moment a voice, coming from God knows where, for it seemed to issue neither from above nor below, in the house or out of it--a hollow, half-pathetic, half-cynical voice, echoed our unspoken thought--‘_It is a VERY strange affair!_’ The horror-stricken porter crossed himself devoutly, and, falling on his knees, began to pray, while I in the meanwhile undid the bolts, opened the port, and rushed into the open street.

“The thing was altogether of so weird a character, that I almost doubted the evidence of my senses; yet, on recalling all the circumstances from first to last, the testimony affirming the events was altogether too strong, overpowering and direct, to be doubted for an instant.

“In books of ancient lore; in the old Black letter volumes of antiquity; in the recital of the exploits of Appolonius of TYANÆ; in the Life of Darwin; in the story of Grugantus, and in the ‘Records of the Weird Brethren of Appulia,’ I had read of Magic Marvels, almost too wonderful for the belief of those ignorant masses contemporaneous with the authors and heroes of the various legends. But in the light of modern learning, all these things had been resolved into three primitive elements, and these were: 1st., and principal. Ignorance of the Masses. 2d. The clouds of superstition which for long ages hovered over the world. And, 3d. The amazing skill possessed by the various arch-impostors of antiquity. Thus I accounted for much that was reported to have taken place in ‘ye Olden Tyme;’ but how to explain away what myself and several others had just witnessed, on the same easy and general hypothesis, was a task altogether beyond achievement. To attempt to get rid of the difficulty on the supposition of mere ‘Fancy,’ was simply ridiculous: and yet, while one does not feel at liberty to admit the idea of Magic, here were circumstances of such a tremendous character, as to utterly forbid and defy explication upon any other ground whatever.

“This was the current of my thoughts as I left the street of Michel le Compte, and turned up that of the Temple. As I slowly walked along, buried in a labyrinth of conjecture, the idea suddenly occurred to me that perhaps, after all, Ravalette and the people of the house in the Rue Michel le Compte, might merely have been performing parts in a very cleverly designed, and capitally acted drama; though how to account for the kaleidoscopic changes of the coins, I could not at first imagine. ‘Ah!’ said I, at length, ‘I have it! Hurrah! Bravo! Eureka, ten times over! The secret’s out, and I’m the man that found it!’ A sudden thought occurred to me, by the aid of which, even the coin mystery, was cleared up most satisfactorily; and that which ten minutes before was a profound and horrible mystery, was now, apparently, as clear as the noontide sun. Here is the train of reasoning which led me to this hopeful result: Ravalette was a wealthy and eccentric gentleman, who, observing my natural enthusiasm for the antique, and aptitude to the occult, had determined to either amuse himself and friends at my expense, possibly for the purpose of curing some of them of what, perhaps, he regarded as the same weakness; or, taking pity on what he looked upon as a sad and dangerous infatuation, had resorted to this rather costly experiment, in the hope that at its termination a perfect cure might be effected. The people in the house were, together with the woman and children at the _Barrière_, his confederates in the scheme. He was a learned man; saw that I could not be easily taken in; and therefore brought the wonders of chemical and ventriloquial sciences to his assistance--the latter in the affair of the floating voice, the former in the matter of the coins or disks. These coins had been coated with a substance that would, on exposure to the atmosphere, exhale away; and with this exhalation the first set of characters would of course disappear. Beneath this external coating was another, which, on contact with the air, would assume a peculiar color; beneath this, in turn, was another, and still another; the last of all, being that on which was written the last series of letters composing a sentence. The appearance of these words was the cue to the patron to utter his cry, dash the coins from his hands, and pretend to swoon. In the commotion resultant therefrom, attention would be drawn from the cause of the apparent disaster, and afford ample opportunity for their removal. The sentence, ‘_It is a very strange affair_,’ would be the very one naturally suggested under the circumstances, and had happily been selected as the most fitting one to afford exercise to the ventriloquist employed; and this apparent echoing of an unspoken thought would add additional piquancy to the scene, and materially assist in piling up the horripilant.

“There! was not that a fine specimen of analysis? It was almost perfect, and would have answered most admirably had it not been for one little thing, and that was, simply, that _it was not true_--a trifling objection, perhaps, yet one absolutely fatal. Why, will be seen hereafter.

“I was just about half satisfied with my ingenious speculation, and no more, after the first burst of joy at my supposed discovery had subsided, and cool reason once more took the helm. Be it true or false, I determined to go back to Belleville and pursue my investigations a little further. A passing omnibus soon brought me to the _Barrière_, and to my great joy I saw the identical party that had made the curious remark about my being in search of my own ghost. The nurse and children were intently watching the evolutions of a set of nomadic marionettes, and listening to the stereo-type drolleries of the man in the box who worked the little puppets. Luckily the whole party, with at least three hundred others, were so taken up with the antics of Polichinel and his shrew of a wife, that the young ones nor the nurse saw me. I therefore stepped into a coffee-shop close at hand, called for a _tasse_, and then sent one of the waiters to fetch the woman with the three children dressed in yellow velveteen. The man obeyed, and speedily returned, followed by the party sent for.

“Upon seeing who it was that had summoned her, the young woman felt alarmed, fearing that the remarks she had made, when I entered the cab an hour or so previously, had offended me, and that my present business was to cause her to be punished for her insolence. For of all places on this civilized earth, Paris is the one where a stranger is best protected from injury or impertinence--at least, it then was. I soon set the woman’s mind at ease on that point; and having purchased some _gâteaux_ for the children, and the same, with a vessel of coffee, for the nurse, I requested her to be seated, and tell me what caused her to use such curious terms, with regard to myself, a little while before.

“‘Lord bless you, sir,’ she said, ‘I did but repeat what an old man said who stood on the side of the carriage opposite to that by which you entered. I had just crossed over from his side when you saw and heard me. As you came running down the street, everybody saw you, and that you were in a hurry, and several persons made observations as to the cause of your great haste. Said one, “The man’s mad!” said another, “His woman has just run off with a lover, taking his twins along for company’s sake, and he’s after them with a sharp stick!” Said the old man at my side, “He’s in search of what he won’t find very soon.” “What’s that, sir?” I ventured to ask. “He’s in search of--ahem!--in search of--_his own ghost, my dear_!” said the old man, as he darted up the street. The notion was so funny, that I remembered _it all the while I was crossing_ the street--a very long time for us _Bonnes_ to recollect anything, _mon cher ami_; and when Auburt there asked me what ailed you, why, I looked wise, and repeated the grey-beard’s observation, and--another cup of coffee, if you please--that was all.’

“I breathed freer. ‘But tell me, my dear, what sort of man this old fellow was?’ ‘Certainly--another _gâteau, garçon_; monsieur will pay for it--certainly!’ and the young woman went on to describe--Ravalette! as well as I could have done myself, had that mysterious individual stood before me then and there. It was enough. I was satisfied, and determined to push my inquiries further. I thanked the girl, paid the bill of thirty-five sous, left the place, and hurried as fast as I possibly could to the flower-gardens, that, it will be remembered, Ravalette and myself had visited together. I went to the first one, and asked the gardener if he had seen the old man who had been my companion on a recent visit, an hour or two before?

“‘_Old_ man? Well, you _are_ a funny man, to call a boy of seventeen years an _old_ man! I recollect you well enough, for you bought a fine bouquet, one of the damask roses composing which you now carry in your button-hole. I remember you well enough, and the beardless stripling, your companion; but I have not seen him since you both left together.’

“‘Bah, my friend!’ said I, ‘it won’t do. I know perfectly well that my comrade here was _not_ a youngster, but a man of full seventy years of age, if a single day!’

“‘_Sacré bleu!_ You’d better tell me I lie at once, and be done with it! You may _say_ it was an old man, but I’ll be cursed if it wasn’t a young one, not yet out of his teens; and what’s more to the purpose, I’ll back my opinion, and bet you an even bottle of _Jean Lafitte_, forty-two years old, that the person who accompanied you here this day was a small, thin, sallow-faced youth of not over fifteen years! Will you take the wager?’

“‘Yes, and forty more just like it; but who shall be our umpire, and decide the bet?’

“‘Why, let the witnesses, my men, and my wife or daughter, decide. I’ll warrant they won’t lie for the sake of a bottle of wine. Are you agreed?’

“‘Yes, call them on; I’ll trust them.’

“‘Of course you may, for they are honest folks. My wife let you both in at the door; I sold you a bouquet; one of my men went round the garden with you, and the other ran to fetch change for the five-franc piece you gave me to take pay from. Here, wife, Joseph, and Pierre; come here all of you. I’ve made a bet with the gentleman, and want you three to decide it.’

“In a moment the persons called stood before us, and the gardener said to me: ‘Now, monsieur, you and I will go to the other end of the garden; when there, I will describe to you the person who accompanied you here this afternoon. Then we will call the witnesses, one at a time, first separating them, so that they cannot agree upon a uniform story for or against me, but give the truth exactly, as the truth appears to each one.’

“Nothing could be fairer than this proposition, and therefore I gave my assent to it immediately; whereupon the two men were sent to stand at opposite ends of the garden, his wife took her place in a third, while her husband and myself went to the fourth. Having arrived there:

“‘Your friend,’ said the gardener, ‘was just as I have described him, with this addition, that he wore polish-leather shoes, a Leghorn or Panama hat, carried a switch cane, wore light jean pantaloons, a coat _au saque_, and vest of white Cashmere. Remember this. Now, Joseph, come here,’ said he, raising his voice and motioning the man toward us. ‘Be so good as to describe the person who came here to-day with this gentleman.’

“‘I will with pleasure, master. The _negro_ who came with this gentleman was very fat and heavy, had large splay feet, tremendous hands, broad, flat face, a nose that would weigh a pound, and lips twice as heavy. His hair was woolly, teeth very white and regular; and he wore low shoes, green cap, knee breeches, red vest, and purple jacket!’

“It is difficult to say which of us two looked most astonished when Joseph finished his portrait of my companion. Joseph was the man who conducted us around the garden. We were the only visitors of the day, and--

“‘Damn it, Joseph, you must be crazy! for the man was’----

“‘Hold on!’ said I to the gardener; ‘remember the terms of our wager, and say nothing till all have been questioned on the subject;’ then, turning to the man, I said: ‘Go to your corner, Joseph. Pierre, come hither;’ and he came.

“‘Now, my friend, we want you to accurately describe the individual who accompanied me to these gardens to-day. Tell us exactly how the person appeared to you. Will you, my friend?’

“‘_Oui, certainement._ The _old lady_ you mean. _Malateste!_ It makes me laugh--_pardonez moi, monsieur_, but I can’t help it--it makes me laugh to think about her, _ma foi_! What a queer old lady it was, to be sure! Such a little pinched-up face; and what a nose and chin, look you! Ecod! it was for all the world _la casse-noix_--a regular pair of nut-crackers! Certes, I took her to be the grandmother of Methusalah, or sister to Adam’s first wife. Oh, ho, ho--he, ha, _peste_! I shall die o’ laughing! And then _such_ a dress! Not a single article of cloth about her, but all she wore made of thin green-and-blue morocco; and then such dainty slippers, looking for all the world as if made of the wings of _Pappilon_! and such a head-dress--withered flowers, and two bushels of faded ribbon! _Par le grande Dieu_, the lady _was_ a queer one!’ and Pierre went back to his corner, laughing as if he would explode.

“The gardener looked astonished beyond all measure. How _I_ looked cannot be told; but how I _felt_, no mortal pen could possibly describe. We both kept silent, and advanced to where Madame _la Jardinière_ stood, patiently waiting her turn to be questioned, and impatiently wondering what was the matter with Pierre, the fellow laughed so uproariously, and enjoyed ‘the feast of memory’ with such a decided gusto.

“‘_Ma chere femme_,’ said my comrade, ‘will you please be so good as to describe the person whom you admitted here to-day along with monsieur? Certes, I believe the Devil himself is at the bottom of the business, for no two persons are agreed in description. But you, my darling, _you_, who are all the while reading poetry books;--all about Vido (Ovid?), and Virgil, and Spearshaker, and all those great people--you can describe this person perfectly; can’t you, my sweet?’ and the gardener looked imploringly at his plump and buxom _compagnon de lit_.

“Now, of all mortals it is most unsafe and dangerous to flatter a French woman, and madame was French all the way through; consequently she determined, on so fitting an occasion, to prove her husband’s encomiums perfectly well founded; and she began the display with a quotation from the Bard of Avon’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“‘_Ah, mon ange avec les bottes_--my angel in boots--do you not know that Joseph has been a poet ever since I instructed him in trochees, dactyls, spondees, dythyrambics, hexameters, iambics, acatalectics, and--anapests--and’----

“‘Oh, may the devil fly away with all of your Anna cats, or Mary cats!--damn all cats! And as for your Anna Pests--why, what’s she got to do with Joseph? Is she another grisette the fellow’s running after? Why, that’s fifteen different women in fifteen weeks. I can’t see how the fellow’s constitution stands it: and then _you’ve_ done the introducing business? Shame on you--you ought to be’----

“Here I stepped in and told the gardener that his lady did not mean _cats_ or females, but simply _feet_, measures, and scansions of poetry. This mollified him, and the lady courtesied to me, and resumed:

“‘Yes, darling--_ogre_’--this last was spoken _sub voce_--‘yes, dearest, the gentleman’s right. Joseph is a poet; Pierre is a lunatic; and the gentleman himself is beyond all question as deeply in love as he can get; and these are the reasons why neither describes the person who attended with him alike. That prince of soldiers, who because he was so terrible in war, when he shook his spear, the English call Shake-the-spear, says that--

“‘Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies that apprehend more than cool Reason comprehends. The lover, the lunatic, and the poet are of imagination All compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold-- That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic, sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt. The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things, The poet’s pen turns them to shapes, and gives To airy nothings a local habitation and a name.’

“‘But what, my dear, has all this to do with the questions I asked you? Look here, Ninette; I believe it’s you that’s gone mad, rose in love--_sacre!_--I wish I could catch you and your Shake-the-spear loving once. I’d fix him and you too, my lady, that I would! I’d fix his flint so that he wouldn’t shake any more spears around my garden, that I would! Will you have done with all your rigmarole, and tell what you know?’

“‘Certainly. The gentleman’s sweetheart, who came with him to-day, and who went with me into my private room to arrange her hair and adjust her petticoats, was as fine and pretty a young blonde of eighteen years as ever sat a man’s heart beating triple bobmajors against his ribs. Such ankles, such feet, such a bloom upon her cheeks and lips!--ah! and such a _tournure_! such hips, such embonpoint! _Sacristie!_ it’s lucky I was not a man when I fixed her crinoline, or, _ma foi_! I should have gone mad and run off with her, leaving monsieur to mourn his loss, while I revelled in the essence of love with his _fiancée_. Besides that’----

“‘Stop, stop, Ninette--for God’s sake stop! I have lost a bottle of _Jean Lafitte_, forty odd years old, and lost my brains besides!’

“Here the whole five of us collected in a group, and an explanation followed which instantly banished all mirth from Pierre, and all poetry from _la Jardinière_.

“Declining all thoughts of the wager and the wine, I left the party in a maze of stupor, and sped as hastily as I could to the _Guinguette_, or Tea-Garden, where, it will be remembered, Ravalette and myself had entered to converse with the proprietor regarding his novel and costly experiment in the way of feasting poor people _a la les richeuse_.

“Entering this place, I put the same question to the proprietor that I had to the gardener and the man of Michel le Compte; but instead of surprise at his answer, I was absolutely dumb-founded, for the man insisted that I entered the shop _quite alone_, but that I had conversed with him in two separate and perfectly distinct voices, _au ventriloque_--which he had regarded as very singular, but concluded that I was a student of ventriloquism, and took every opportunity to test my proficiency, and had now come back to ascertain what success attended the experiment.

“I was too much horrified to speak; but, simply nodding my adieux, took my departure in a mood much easier to be imagined than described.

“Not yet content, I made inquiries as to whether any one had seen two horsemen of a peculiar description pass through any of the streets of Belleville.

“Nobody had seen any such, or indeed any horsemen whatever. I was thunderstruck.

“‘I’ll track them!’ I cried, as a last resource; ‘for the place where we walked, where the horse and groom stood waiting, and where the old man mounted, was a soft, yielding, grassless turf. This will decide whether I have been dealing with the living or the dead, and that too in this broad daylight.’

“I ran thither. Not a trace of a horse’s hoofs; not a single vestige of Ravalette’s footprints save one, and that one the fac-simile of the description formerly given. My own foot-marks were plain enough, but only the one other was to be found! Here the mystery grew thicker and thicker, nor could I see the first glimmer of a way to clear it up.

“Slowly and despondently, I retraced my steps toward Paris, taking care to inquire as I went, whether any person had seen two men on horseback go toward Charronne, Villette, Menilmontant, or through the Barrières. I might just as well not have asked.

“But the chapter of devilry was not yet concluded, for what subsequently took place actually threw all that had gone before it entirely in the shade. These things I will now relate, first premising my narrative.

“One day, about a week before I first spoke to Ravalette in the Louvre, I happened to be spending an afternoon in the Palais Royale, along with my friends the Barons di Corvaja and Du P----t, to both of whom I had taken letters from America. On the day alluded to, I met at D----’s room in the Rue Beaujolais, and then and there became acquainted with, an English gentleman of easy means and polished mind, by the name of Carr. This gentleman resided with his family in a splendid mansion in the Rue du Chemin Vert. After a long and interesting conversation, we parted, but not till Mr. Carr had cordially taken me by the hand, expressed a desire to maintain the acquaintance, and invited me to call on him at his residence in the Rue du Chemin Vert. I felt gratified at his frankness, and accepted his polite invitation. Mr. Carr named the day, and I agreed to go; and accordingly had spent the evening and took tea with him, his family and a few select guests, some five or six days before the eventful day, the achievement of which I have just recounted. The thing which I am about to narrate is not only strange, but in many respects horrible, and my mind is agitated to the last degree by the astounding occurrences--things which I beheld with my own eyes, felt with my own senses, realized with my own spirit; and yet I scarcely dare give credit to that which I am sensible _cannot, could not_ have been an illusion. My soul is filled with wonder; and I hasten to give a true version of the affair while all is yet fresh and vivid before me; indeed, it will ever be so, till age shall numb my faculties.”