rus of Trautonavia in Bohemia, who, after spending his life in building “sumptuous houses and palaces,”—(better for him had they been churches)—after his death, took it into his head most uncivilly to walk the streets of the city, and salute his friends and acquaintance, who all died, one after another, as certainly as he touched them? We quote from “The Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells,” by Thomas Heywood (folio, 1635), a most learned demonologist, whose accuracy we see no reason to call in question.
The second tale, “The Fated Hour,” is calculated to affect the mind with a yet more vivid impression of terror, as it has reference to a species of belief, not so popular as that in the Spirits of the Dead, but yet sufficiently common, especially among nations of a melancholy and reflective cast, as for instance our old Scottish Highlanders. It is the spectral appearance, or wraith, of a person yet living.
A young and beautiful girl, on the eve of marriage to the man she loves, is represented as suddenly becoming a prey to the most unaccountable melancholy and abstraction of thought. Being rallied by her most intimate female companions, she gives obscure intimations of her own approaching death, which, however discredited by them, naturally inspire a poignant and even distressing sensation of curiosity and wonder. They require, in short, an explanation, which the unhappy victim of these second-sighted impressions at length consents to give, and which she commences in the following manner:
“From her infancy Seraphina was remarkable for several singularities. She was a year younger than myself; but frequently, while seated by her side, I was amusing myself with the playthings common to our age, she would fix her eyes, by the half hour together, as if absorbed in thought: she seldom took any part in our infantine amusements. This disposition greatly chagrined our parents; for they attributed Seraphina’s indifference to stupidity; and they were apprehensive this defect would necessarily prove an obstacle in the education requisite for the distinguished rank we held in society,—my father being, next the prince, the first person in the country. They had already thought of procuring for her a canonry from some noble chapel, when things took an entirely different turn.
“Her preceptor, an aged man, to whose care they had confided her at a very early age, assured them that, in his life, he had never met with so astonishing an intellect as Seraphina’s. My father doubted the assertion; but an examination, which he caused to be made in his presence, convinced him that it was founded in truth.
“Nothing was then neglected to give Seraphina every possible accomplishment:—masters of different languages, of music, and of dancing, every day filled the house.
“But in a short time my father perceived that he was again mistaken: for Seraphina made so little progress in the study of the different languages, that the masters shrugged their shoulders; and the dancing-master pretended, that, though her feet were extremely pretty, he could do nothing with them, as her head seldom took the trouble to guide them.
“By way of retaliation, she made such wonderful progress in music, that she even excelled her masters. She sung in a manner superior to that of the best opera-singer.
“My father acknowledged that his plans for the education of this extraordinary child were now as much too enlarged as they were before too circumscribed, and that it would not do to keep too tight a hand over her, but let her follow the impulse of her own wishes.
“This new arrangement afforded Seraphina the opportunity of more particularly studying the science of astronomy, which was one they had never thought of as needful for her. You can, my friend, form but a very indifferent idea of the avidity with which (if so I may express myself) she devoured those books which treated on celestial bodies; or what rapture the globes and telescopes occasioned her, when her father presented them to her on her thirteenth birth-day!
“But the progress made in this science in our days did not long satisfy Seraphina’s curiosity. To my father’s great grief, she was wrapped up in reveries of astrology; and more than once she was found in the morning occupied in studying books which treated on the influence of the stars, and which he had begun to peruse the preceding evening.
“My mother, being at the point of death, was anxious, I believe, to remonstrate with Seraphina on this whim, but her death was too sudden. My father thought that, at this tender age, Seraphina’s whimsical fancy would wear off: however time passed on, and he found that she still remained constant to a study she had cherished from her infancy.
“You cannot forget the general sensation her beauty produced at court; how much the fashionable versifiers of the day