66 I think it went very far to prove how anxious they were for an asylum, as they walked until, to express were ready to drop," and we were compelled to pro own language efreshment. rest and Thus foiled, they returned to their former courses. One was called by her companions, on former occasions not then, for they were extremely serious-but formerly, "cross-eyed Bet." She has since been transported under the following circumstances. She was in Clapham Park at night, and an inspector of police stopped to make some remark to her, to order her to move on; she had chloroform in her handkerchief, and instantly applied it to the inspector's face, who was immediately rendered incapable of resistance. She then robbed him of his watch, and was decamping, when two detective officers, who were on the other side of the hedge, at hand, immediately pursued and captured her. She was transported. A great deal has been done to improve this sad state of things; first, and above all, by facilitating and increasing the acquirement of knowledge-religious and intellectual more especially by the formation of ragged schools. The Lamb and Flag Ragged, Schools, Clerkenwellgreen, are now numerically the largest in London. The whole of our social system is deeply interested in the progress of these schools for the outcasts. Next, by the organisation of a new and, comparatively speaking, efficient police force. A very pickpocket observed lately, "Lots of us turns honest now 'cause it's no go." Next, by the labours of the city missionaries, the formation of Temperance and Abstinence Societies, the establishment of Houses of Refuge for juvenile delinquents, and a variety of other charitable institutions, as the Female Dormitories and Industrial Institutions, Ragged Colonial Training Schools of Industry, and other institutions of a similar or analogous character. Yet how trifling is all this compared with the amount of ignorance and poverty, of vice and crime! Two hundred and fifty districts, it has been computed, urgently needing missionaries are at the present moment unoccupied. We place considerable hopes in the working out of the new e educational measures that are being adopted by the present government a forced tax for education has many grievous evils, it puts an end to a great extent to all voluntary contributions, and it makes education a matter of duty, instead of, as it has hitherto been, a more agreeable one of feeling; but when we see how inadequate the present system is to the immense increase of population, more especially among the poor and needy, we cannot but feel that the time has come when ignorance and consequent impurity, vice and crime, must be provided for in a totally different manner, and upon a totally different system, to that which has hitherto obtained. Lord Shaftesbury's proposed bill on Juvenile Mendicity, it may also be observed, although especially open to all the evils enforced by compulsory education, is an important movement in the right direction, and the prospective amount of good likely to be accomplished by carrying out so provident a measure, cancels all feelings of delicacy we might otherwise have entertained towards seeing its details enforced by the strong arm of the law. T T པ་ཡུས་ ALMOST A GHOST STORY. IN the autumn of last year, on one of those days, so few in England, when it is both safe and agreeable to sit in the open air, three friends were taking their dessert under some lofty elms which shaded the smooth lawn of a pretty villa near London. They were all elderly, and had not met until that day for several years. They had talked over old times→ the glorious times of boyhood-given a sigh to the memory of many a good fellow gone before them, commented on the funds, discussed the corn-laws, the progress of the age, railroads, and the Crystal Palace, and now, as the shadows lengthened, the talk had begun to flag, when one of the three, named Walton, happened to mention the new circular theory of winds. 9 "Circular theory of winds!" exclaimed the most elderly of the three, Mr. Parker; why, there might be a circular theory of everything. From the pirouetting opera-dancer to the 'great globe itself,' all turns round. The commercial traveller goes his round, the schoolboy eats his round of bread and butter, and we all live our round of life; and a precious dull round it is. But not only individual minds, the universal mind describes a circle; and as the earth in a year's time returns to exactly the same spot in space, so does the human mind revolve in an orbit—not yet mapped. Is there not a constantly recurring superstitious as constantly followed by a sceptical? Do not the pulling-down and the reconstructing ages alternate? Also the puritanic and the licentious? Yes, error, like dulness, "born a goddess, never dies! For instance," continued he, after a pause, when we were young, the belief in ghosts and spectral appearances was confined to ignorant maid-servants or credulous old people, and now, in the second half of the nineteenth century, we have educated, intellectual people arguing for their reality. Witness the Night-side of Nature, and many literary trifles tending to show which way the tide is setting in." INGE I can only say I never saw a ghost,” observed the most taciturn of the three. 92 I once thou thought I did," years of age. His friends laughed, and asked him when. When I was about twenty. You were in chambers then," remarked the quiet gentleman. "Was it the ghost of a client ? 385 of I did not spend the vacation in chambers," returned Walton; "however, as I have finished my cigar, and you both have just lighted fresh ones, suppose I tell you all about it ? us your *f; The others assented, and Walton related as follows: to somost He glorio Thirty years have slipped away since then, but fresh as if it were but yesterday in my memory is the visit I paid that vacation to some relations who resided in a county bordering on Wales. The name of the family was Somers-far-off cousins of my mother-with whom, until then, I had been quite unacquainted. As it was, I did not see much of Mr. Somers, who, as far as I remember, was closely engaged in electioneering matters. Mrs. Somers was a great invalid, and about as wellread and intelligent a woman as I ever knew. I remember attempting, in my London conceit, to enlighten her regarding the literature of the day, and after holding forth a considerable time, finding she knew far more of it than I did; and, above all, I recollect little Lucy Somers' arch look on the occasion, and how she informed me very significantly that a supercilious young gentleman from town once inquired "Whether they ever saw the London newspapers at A charming little creature was Lucy Somers! An only child, and of course considerably petted and spoiled. In consequence of her mamma's ill health she had been left pretty much to herself to find her own amusements, and she galloped about on her pony, caressed her great dogs, rowed herself in her own little pleasure-boat, and, had she been a tall, raw-boned woman, would infallibly have been pronounced masculine ; but who could bestow such an epithet on a little creature with blue eyes and blonde ringlets? Oh, no! her independent manners rendered her a thousand times more piquante and attractive. "Is Mrs. Walton's name Lucy ?" asked Parker. No (replied Walton, with a smile); and, notwithstanding, I must confess I soon fell desperately in love with Lucy, and enjoyed a most delicious week, riding, walking, and boating, in her company. After that time my happiness was much disturbed by the occasional calls of a young gentleman, whom I quickly suspected of being a lover, and, alas! a favoured one, of Miss Somers. Of course I took an immense dislike to him, was for ever trying to ridicule him, and then, by losing my temper, making myself ridiculous. He was He was a good-looking, lighthearted, country-bred fellow, holding all cockneys in utter contempt. He made fun of my awkward attempts at agility, and was hugely delighted one day when I refused a fence which he cleared in style. One morning he had not made his appearance; Lucy had been very amiable, and I very happy, when, about noon, as we were leaning on the little gate leading from the garden, idly amusing ourselves with exploding the swollen seed-vessels of the bladder senna, I suddenly remembered that I had never explored the magnificent ruins which I saw crowning a gentle hill about a mile distant. "You promised to go with me, Miss Somers," I said; there this evening ?" She hesitated, and then said: " will you walk "I think not; I am rather afraid of the damp in the long grass." She afraid of the damp that would have forded a stream to get anything she wished for! No, she was expecting her lover, I felt sure; and, being much irritated, made several tolerably rude speeches about young ladies' fickleness, and so on. My suspicions proved well-founded; the expected gentleman came dashing up soon after in a beautiful new phaeton, and invited Lucy to take a drive with him to I saw Lucy's eyes sparkle with delight, while, on the contrary, an additional gloom overspread my countenance, as I contemplated internally the probability of spending the afternoon and evening alone. I believe the kind-hearted girl was sorry for me, for, just as she was leaving, she turned back to say, "I am really sorry I cannot walk with you to the ruins, Mr. Walton; but as, to see them aright, You should visit them by the pale moonlight, and the moon rises very early this evening, suppose you visit them poetically-alone. You may easily be back by eleven." "And do you think," said her lover, laughing, "that Mr. Walton dare visit them alone by moonlight?" "True courage," said I, "depends much more on the mind than the body: your great muscular fellow is often a tremendous coward." The gentleman favoured me with a fierce stare, as if to say, "What do you mean by that?" but Lucy, taking his arm, led him away, leaving me by no means the happiest of mortals. I will not say how I spent that afternoon, or what bitter cud of reflection I chewed; it is sufficient to state that, by the time the moon rose, I was thoroughly tired of my own company, and determined to set out for the ruins, which might furnish a change of sensation at any rate. As I passed through the little hamlet, its inhabitants were already at rest, and the only lights that appeared twinkled from upper windows. Perfect stillness reigned around, except that two dogs in distant farmhouses were alternately baying the moon and barking at each other. As I emerged from a deep lane and ascended the grassy hill, the moon was riding high in the heavens, and the ruin stood out dark and well-defined against the sky. It was most picturesque, and far more entire than I had anticipated. Long streamers of ivy trembled in the night-breeze, and I gazed on it as the personification of venerable old age patiently awaiting its time. But I will not stay to describe my sensations, though I assure you they were particularly fine and poetical; I will only remark that I wandered for some minutes through the ruins admiring the good effect of the windows-each of which formed a dark frame to the bright picture beyond; sometimes, indeed, grotesque shadows of projecting stones made me startshadows by moonlight look so very tangible-but I quickly recovered myself, and smiled to think how little I was prone to superstitious feelings. At length I reached a winding staircase, dilapidated indeed, but of easy ascent; care of course was necessary, as, except where the moonlight streamed through the narrow loophole windows, it was perfectly dark. I had ascended about half-way, when a sound, resembling a groan, met my ear. At once my boasted courage was gone, the blood ran back to my heart, and the cold fingers of fear wiped out every pleasant fancy. I was near one of the loopholes, and looking through it, the sight of the calm scene sleeping in moonlight appeared to reassure me. "Perhaps," thought I, "it was the creaking of some old ivy stem against the rough stone-work." The thought gave me courage, and I continued the ascent, when hark! again that sound! Now unmistakably a human groan came heavily on the still air. A nameless dread seized on me; every tale of horror, from "Mary the Maid of the Inn" to the last Radcliffian novel I had read, rushed at once on my memory; yet curiously mingled with these were Lucy's arch looks and her lover's scornful" He dare not." Fear and shame struggled for my possession: the latter prevailed, and with trembling knees I reached the top of the staircase, and found myself in a long dim room, at the farther end of which was a doorway. I had scarcely remarked it, when again that dismal sound issued from it, making, as it seemed to me, the night air cold and damp as it passed, and was slightly echoed back by the walls beyond. My legs felt heavy, large drops of perspiration stood on my forehead, and my breath seemed choking in my breast. Still, urged either by curiosity or fear, I proceeded onwards. Perhaps there is a culminating point to fear, and I had passed it; or, more probably, I dared not turn back and have that dreadful mystery following me; certain it is, that at last I reached the doorway, though I never remember to have traversed so long a room before. The apartment I now reached, and round which I cast my fearful looks, was apparently more habitable than any I had yet seen: the window even was furnished with a sash, which, however, stood open. The groans, which for the last few minutes had been repeated at regular intervals, now ceased, and in my first survey I saw nothing that could have caused them. Partly reassured, I entered, but soon a slight rustling in one corner attracted my attention, and-good Heavens! could it be?-either my fear deceived me, or I saw a coffin! I cast a look at the open window-it was not far from the ground below. I could easily jump out—but no, an irresistible impulse drew me towards the object of my fear. I was within a few steps of it, when suddenly a hideous form started up, and-I knew nothing more until I found myself on a mound of tolerably soft earth outside the ruin. It appeared that I had leaped out of the window, and as I felt of my bones, heartily congratulated myself that none of them were broken. "What was it after all?" asked the taciturn gentleman. "And pray," inquired Parker, "is it the groaning, the coffin, or the hideous form, that you consider almost a ghost?" You shall hear (returned Walton). But where was I? Oh, examining if any of my limbs were fractured. Well, I had just satisfied myself on that point, and was in the act of gathering myself up, when an old woman, or rather a hideous old hag, stood before me. "You old witch! who are you?" I exclaimed. "I am no witch," was the answer; "I takes care of the habbey, and shows it to wisitors. Maybe you are one; rumantic young gentlemen sometimes comes o' nights, but I tooks you to be one of those mischeevous boys that comes from the village a plaguing me." "And are you not afraid of being here alone?" said I, with an inward shudder, as I thought of the fearful sight I had seen. "Bless us, no, sir; there's nothing to be afeard on, except if I was took ill on a sudden it would be awkward. But as mother, and grandmother afore she, died in a fit, I sleeps in my coffin to be all ready if I'm took." How I hated the old hag for explaining in such a simple way the cause of my terror! To think that an old woman snoring between deal boards could so have unmanned me! Nevertheless, let no one laugh until they have been placed in similar circumstances. "I suppose Miss Lucy finely enjoyed your fright," remarked one of the friends. I did not give her the opportunity. When I reached her home about midnight, I found the family in great alarm at my absence. I told them very composedly where I had been, expressed my great admiration of the ruins, and mentioned incidentally the singularity of the old woman choosing to sleep in her coffin. "I wonder you were not frightened," cried Lucy; "if I had remembered it, I would have warned you of her foolish fancy." "We Londoners," said I, "are not such cowards as to dread ugly old women; we think young ones much more dangerous." "Then you consider this adventure almost a ghost story?" said the quiet friend. "About as much so as stories ever are-if they be true," observed Parker, with a sneer. |