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Albert Lachner was my particular friend and fellow-student. We studied together at Heidelberg ; we lived together ; we had no secrets from each other ; we called each other by the endearing name of brother. On leaving the university, Albert decided on following the profession of medicine. I was possessed of a. moderate competence and a little estate at Ems, on the Lahn ; so I devoted myself to the tranquil life of a proprietaire and a book-dreamer. Albert went to reside with a physician, as pupil and assistant, at the little town of Cassel; I established myself in my inheritance. v Oridost thqq tgrge, with force and fire, 0, workman of the brawny am And the bronzed browâ€"O, say, Out of the biasing and smitten steel What dost thou make to-day? Dost thou use thine art in this time of peace To fashion the thirsty sword. That shall cleave its course without remorse In the battle-wrath nbhorred 7 r The terrible bi} duet. That shall gleam at the front, and bear the brunt When the settled hosts are met? His heé‘Iteci brow to cool ', He shook his head, and “ Alas !” he said, “ I’m making: a shoe for n 1111116.” Aqg tbe grayjhairegl worlfman paused in his task , up round the window. I placed there a bookcase, and filled it with favourite books; hung the walls with engravings which I knew be admired, and chose draperies of his favourite colour. When all was complete, I Wrote to him, and bade him come and spend his summer-holiday with me at Ems n,,,,,1 He came ; but I found him greatly altered. He was a dark, pale man; always somewhat teciturn and sickly, he was now paler, more silent, more delicate than ever. He seemed Iubject to fits of melancholy abstraction, and appeared as if some allâ€"absorbing subject weighed upon his mindâ€"some haunting care, from which even I was excluded. .l was delighted with my home ; with my garden, sloping down to the rushy margin of the river; with the view of Ems, the tur- reted old Kiirhaus, the suspension-bridge, and, further away, the bridge of boats, and the dark wooden hills, closing in a little colâ€" any on every side. I planted my garden in English style ; fitted up my library and smoking-room ; and furnished one bed-cham- ber especially for my friend. This room over-looked the water, and a. clematis grew He had never been gay, it is true ; he had never mingled in our Heidelberg extrava- ganceâ€"never fought a. duel at the Hirsch- asseâ€"never been one of the fellowhood of oxesanever boated, and quarrelled, and gambled like the rest of us, wild boys as we were 1 But he was constitutionally unfitted for such Violent sports; end the lameness, which dated from his early childhood, prov« ed an etfectual bar to the practice of all those athletic exercises which secure to youth the mans sana in corpora sano. Still, he was strangely altered ; and it cut me to the heart to see him so sad, and not to be permitted to partake of his anxieties. At first I thought he had been studying too closely ; but this he protested was not the cause. Sometimes I fancied that he was in love, but I was soon convinced of my error; he was changedwbut how or why, I found it; impossible to discover. After he had been with me about a. week, I chanced one day to allude to the rapid progress that was making everywhere in favour of mesmerism, and added some light Words of incredulity as I spoke. To my surprise, he expressed his absolute faith in every department; of the science, and defend- ed all its phenomena, even to cleirvoyance and mesmerie revelation, with the fervour of a determined believer. I found his views on the subject more ex- tended than any I had previously heard. To mesmeric influences, he attributed all those spectral appearances, such as ghosts, Wraiths and doppelganger; all those noises and trou- bled spirits; all those bunshees or family apparitions ; all those hauntings and miscel. laneous phenomena, which have from the earliest ages occupied the fears, the thoughts, and the inquiries of the human race. In THE DUPPELGANGER. After about three weeks’ stay, he left me, and returned to his medical studies at Cassel, promising to visit me in the autumn, when the grape-harvest should be in progress. His parting words were earnest and remark- able : ‘ Farewell, Heinrich, main Bruder; farewell till the gathering-season. In thought, I shall he often with you.’ 1, in. _1 L1,. .uv...b..-, - N“ He was holding my hands iii both of his own as he said this, and a. peculiar expres- sion flitted across his countenance ; the next moment he had stepped into the diligence, and was gone. Feeling disturbed, yet with- out knowing Why, I made my way slowly back to my cottage. This visit of Albert’s had strangely unsettled me, and I found that for some days after his departure, I could not return to the old quiet round of studies which had been my occupation and delight before he came. Somehow, our long argument dwelt unpleasantly upon my mind, and induced a nervous sensation of which I felt ashamed. 1*had no Wish to believe ; I struggled against conviction, and the very struggle caused me to think of it the more. At last the effect wore away ; and when my friend had been gone about a. fortnight, I re- turned almost insensibly to my former rou- tine of thought and occupation. Thus the season slowly advanced. Ems became crowded with tourists, attracted thither by the fame of our medicinal springs ; and what with frequenting concerts, promenades, and gardens, reading, receiving a few friends, oc- casionally taking part in the music-meetings which are so much the fashion here, and en- tering altogether into a. little more society than had hitherto been my habit, I succeed- ed in banishing entirely from my mind the doubts and reflections which had so much disturbed me. One evening, as I was returning home- Ward from the house of a. friend in the town, I experienced a delusion, which, to say the least of it, caused me a very disagreeable ensation. I have stated that my cottage was situated on the banks of the river, and was surrounded by a garden. The entrance lay at the other side, by the high road ; but I am fond of boating, and I had constructed, therefore, 2L little wicket, with a flight of wooden steps leading down to the water’s L,.4 "WW" ,7 [W .W W C edge, near which my small rowing-boat lay moored. This evening, I came along by the meadows which skirt the stream; these meadows are here and there intercepted by villas and private enclosures. Now, mine was the first; and I could walk from the town to my own garden-fence Without once diverging from the path-way. I was mus- ing, 3nd humming to myself some bars of ing, The Blacksmith. a popular melody, when, all at once, I be- gan thinking of Albert and his theories. This was, I esseverate, the first time he had even entered my mind for at least two days. Thus going along, my arms folded, and my eyes fixed on the round, I reached the boundaries of my ittle domain before I knew that I had traversed half the distance. Smiling at my own abstraction, I paused to go round by the entrance, when suddenly, and to my great surprise, I saw my friend standing by the wicket, and looking over the river toward the sunset. Astonishlnent and delight deprived me at first of all power of speech mt lsstâ€"“ Albert!” I cried " this is kind of you. When did you arrive ‘2” He seemed not to hear me, and remained in the same attitude. I repeated the words, and with a. similar result. “ Albert, look round, man i” Slowly he turned his head, and looked me in the face ; and then, 0 horror! even as I was looking at him, he disappear- ed. He did not fade away ; he did not fall ; but, in the twinkling of an eye, he was not there. Trembling and awe-struck, I went into the house, and strove to compose my shattered nerves. Was Albert dead, and were appsritions truths? I dared not think â€"I dared not ask myself the question. I passed a wretched night ; and the next day I was as unsettled as when first he left It was about four days from this time when a. circumstance wholly inexplicable occurred in my house. I was sitting at breakfast in the library, with a, volume of Plato beside me, when my servant entered the room, and courtesied for permission to speak. I looked up, and supposing that she needed money for domestic purposes, I pu1< led out my purse from my pocket, and say- ing: “ \Vell, Katrine, what do you want nouw ‘2” drew fortha. floi‘in, and héld it to- wards her. Something in the old woman’s tone of voice caused me to look up hastily. “What is the matter, Katrine? Has anything alarmed you?” n... . 1 N “7 If’yO‘il please, masterâ€"if it is not a. rude gueetion, hasâ€"has any one been here late mean ‘2” “ In the bed upstairs, master.” I sprang to my feet, and turned as cold as a. statue. I flew to the door, thrust her aside, and in a moment sprang up the staircase and into Albert’s bedroom; and there, plainly, plain- ly, I beheld the impression of a heavy body left upon the bed 1 Yes, there, on the pil- low, was the mark where his head had been ‘laid ; there the deep groove pressed by his body I It was no deception this, but a strange, an incomprehensile reality. I groaned aloud, and staggered heavily back. “ It was like this for four nights, master,” said the old woman. “ ‘ach morning I have made the bed, thinking, perhaps, that you had been in there to lie down during the day; but this timeI thought I would speak to you about it.” e--- .. -7 .~. u 1 édufbesied again, and shook her head. “ Thunlgyou, ‘masfier; 1311!; it is not that.” a has been slept in, master, for the 19st; foul: nights.” _ I said no more, but walked away. \Vhen all was in order. I returned, bringing with me a basin of fine sand. First of all, I closed and barred the shutters ; then sprinkâ€" led the flour all round the bed with sand; shut and locked the chamberdoor, and left the key, under some trivial pretext, at the house of a. friend in the town. Katrine was witness to all this. That night I lay awake and restless; not a. sound disturbed the utter silence of the autumn night; not a. breath stirred the leaves against my caseâ€" ment. L “ Well: Katrine, make the bed once more; let_us‘g»ive it anothezj tria} ; and then”â€"- «an I rose early the next morning ; and by the time Katrine was up and at her work, I re- turned from Ems with the key. “ Come with me, Katrine,” I said ; “ let us see if all be right in the Herr Lachner’s bedroom.” At the door, we paused and looked, half- terrified, in each other’s faces ; then I sum- moned courage, turned the key, and entered. The window-shutters, which I had fastened the day before, were wide openâ€"unclosed by no mortal hand ; and the daylight stream- ing in, fell upon the disordered bedâ€"upon footmarks in the sand ! Looking attentive- ly at these latter’ I saw that the impressions were alternately light and heavy, as if the walker had rested longer upon one foot than the other, like a. lame man. I Will not here delay my narrative with an account of the mental anguish which this circumstances caused me ; sufiice it, that I left the room, locked the door again, and re- solved never to re-enter it till 1 had learned the fate of my friend. M- N . m1 The next day I set off for Cassel. The journey was long and fatiguing, and only a portion could be achieved by train. Though I started very early in the morning, it was quite night before the diligence by which the transit was completed enter- ed the streets of the town. Faint and weary though I was, I could not delay at the inn to partake of any refreshments, but hired a. youth to show me the way to Albert’s lodgings, and proceeded at once upon my search. He led me through a. labyrinth of narrow, old-fashioned streets, and paused at length before a high red-brick dwelling, with projecting stories and a curiously carv- ed doorway. An old man with aluntern an- swered my summons; and, on my inquir- ing if Herr Lachner lodged there, desired me to walk up stairs to the third flour. “Then he is living 1” I cried eagerly. “ Living 1” echoed the man, as he held the lantern at the foot of the staircase to light me on my wayâ€"‘livingl Alain God, We want no dead lodgers here.” After the first flight, I found myself in darkness, and went on, feeling my way step by step, and holding by the broad banisters. As I ascended the third flight, a. door on the landing suddenly opened, and a. voice ex- claimed: _ “ W-élbdme, Heinrich I Take care ; there is g. loose plajpk 9n _th‘e‘ .19,“ step but oqe.” . . V" r 7’ V I. It was Albert, holding a. candle in his handâ€"as well, as real, as substantial as ever. I cleared the remaining interval With a bound, and threw myself into his arms. “ Albert, Albert, my friend and compan- ion, aliveâ€"alive and well !” “ Yes, alive,” he replied, drawing me into the room and closing the door. “ You thought me dead '3” .11- . In 11- n1 “ 1 did indeed,” said I, half sobbing with joy. Then glanced around at the blazing heartli~f0r now the nights were chillâ€"the cheerful lights, and the well»spreu<l supper- table : ” \Vhy, Albert,” I exclaimed, “ you live here like a. kingz’: “ Noi; vulwavg fling,” he replied ,with a. mel- ancholy smile. “I lead in general a. very sparing bach'elorJike existence. But it is 7n “Here !” I repeated. “\Vhat do you “ Is simply the effect of magnetic relation â€"of what is called rapport.” " Explain yourself. ” “ Nor, now, Heinrich. You are exhausted by the mental and bodily excitement which you have this day undergone. Eat, now ; eat: and rest. After supper, we will talk the subject over.” VVezu-ied as I was, curiosity, and a vague sort of horror which I found it impossible to control, deprived me of my appetite, and I rejoiced when, drawing towards the hearth with our meerachaums and Rhine-wine, we resumed the former'conversation. I'gééfiea for breaLch, and dropped into a. seat. “ You are, of course, aware,” began my friend, “ that in those cases Where a mesmeric power has been established by one mind over another, acertain rapport, or intimate spiritual relationship, becomes the myster- ious link between those two natures. This rapport does not consist in the mere sleep- producing power ; that is but the primary form. the simplest stage of its influence, and in many instances may be altogether omitted. By this, I mean, that the mesmex ist may, by a supreme act of volition. step at once to the highest power of control over the patient, without traversing the inter- mediate gradations of somnolency or even clairvoyance. This highest power lies in the will of the operator, and enables him to present images to the mind of the other, even as they are produced in his own. I cannot better describe my subject than by comparing the mind of the patient to 11 mir- ror, which reflects that of the operator as long, as often, and as fully, as he may de- sire. This rapport I have long sought to establish between us.” “But you have not succeeded.” “ Not altogether ; neither have my efforts been quite in vain. You have struggled to resist me, and I have felt the opposing power baffling me at every step ; yet some- times I have prevailed, if but for a short time. For instance, during many days after leaving Ems, I left a strong impression upon your mind." “ \Vhich I tried to shake OH, and did.” “ True ; but it was a contended point for some days. Let me recall another instance to your memory. About five days ago, you were suddenly, and for some moments, forc- ed to succumb to my influence, although but an instant previous you were completely a. free agent. ” not often I have a. visitor to entemin ; and you, my brother, have never before partaken 09111: Marita“??? I 1 -. . n 1 1L,,,, “ flow !"‘I excllaimed quite stupefied ; “you knew: that, I_ wag 90ming ?’ m‘r‘ V I have Even prepared a. bed {01; you in_my own ap‘artme‘ntz” ledgEn N “About llajf-past eight o’clock in the 6"Enfingz’i “ At what time of the day was that?” I asked falteripgly. I shffddered, grew deadly faint, and push- edpgy chai; back. He looked up surprised at my emotion; then, as if catching the reflex of mv agita- tion from my countenance, he turned ghast- ly pale, even to his lips, and the drops of cold dew started on his idrehead. “gut where were you, Albert?” I mut- tered in a. halfaudible voice. H “ Iâ€"waswhere,” he said, with a slowand laboured articulation, that added to my dismgy. “ But I sawlyouâ€"I saw you standing in my garden, just as I was thinking of you, or, rather, just as the thought of you had been forced upon me.” “ And did you speak toâ€"to the figure.” “ Twice, without being heard. The third time I crled” ‘ “Albert, looked round, man E’” inter- rupted my friend, in a. horse, quick tone. “My very words ! Then you heard me “But; when vou had spoken them,” he con- tinued, Without heeding my questionâ€"- ‘ ‘when you had spoken themâ€"What then '3” 4217 “It vanishedâ€"where and how, I know not.” “ ireat God 1” he said feebly, “then I am not mad 1” “Dr. K , under whomI have been studying for the last year here in Cassel, first convinced me of the reality of the mea- meric doctrine; before then, I was as hard- ened a sceptic as yourself. As is frequently the case in these matters, the pupilâ€"being, perhaps, constitutionally inclined more to- wards those influencesâ€"sooner penetrated deeper into the paths of mesmeric research than the master. By a rapidity of convic- tion that seems most miraculous, I pierced at once to the essence of the doctrine, and, passed from the condition of patient to that of operator, became sensible of great in- ternal power, and of a strength of volition which enabled me to establish the extraor- dinary rapports between my patients and myself, even separated from them by any distance, however considerable. Shortly after the discovery of this new power, I became aware of another and a still more singular phenomenon Within myself. In order to convey to you a proper idea of which this phenomenon is, 1 must beg you to analyse with me the ordinary process of memory. Memory is the reproduction or summoning back of past places and events. With some, this mental vision is so vivid, as actually to produce the effect of painting the place and thing remembered upon the retina of the eye, so as to present it with all its substantive form, its lights, its colours, and its shadows. Such is our so-called memoryâ€"â€"who shall say Whether it be mem- ory or reality? I had always commanded this faculty in a high degree; indeed, so remarkably, that if I but related a passage from any book, the very page, the printed characters, were spread before my mental vision and I read from them as from the volume. My recollection was therefore said to be wondrously faithful, and, as you will remember, I never erred by a single syllable. Since my recent investigations, -this faculty had increased in a very singular ‘manner 1 have twice felt as though my ‘ inner self, my spiritual self, wcre (L dis-t 715 bodyâ€"yet scarcely as much a body as a nervous essence or earnest thougnt, went from me, and visited the people, the places, the objects of external life. Nay,’ he con- tinued, observing my extreme agitation, “this thing is not wholly new in tin history of magnetic phenomenonâ€"but it is rare. We call it, psychologically spealing, the I was so horror-struck, that; I remained silent, Presently, he raised his head, pour- ed out half a. tumblerful of brandy, drank it at a draught, and then turned his face partly aside, and speaking in a low and preternatuml even tone, related to me the following strange and fearful narrative :â€" mAlbert covered his face with his hands, and groanefi 331994. ‘_‘77A_nd this power, this spiritual know- power of far-working. But there is yet another visible‘appearance out of the bodyâ€" that of being here and elsewhere at thesame timeâ€"that of becoming in short, a dopple- ganger. The irregfragable evidence of this truth I have never dared to doubt, but it has always impressed me with an unpar- alleled horror. I believed, but I dreaded; yet twice I have for a few moments trembled at the thought that Iâ€"I also may lieâ€"may beâ€" 0 rather, far, far rather wouldI believe myself deluded, dreamingâ€"even mad I Twice have I felt a consciousness of self-absenceâ€"once, a consciousness of self- seeing I All knowledge, all perception was transferred to my spiritual self, while a sort of drowsy numbness and inaction weighed upon my bodily part. The first time was about a fortnight before I visited you at ‘ Ems ; the second happened five nights since at the period of which yen have spoken. On that second evening, Heinrich”â€"here his voice trembled audiblyâ€"“I felt myself in possession of an unusual mesmeric power. I thought of you, and impelled the influence as it were, from my mind upon yours. This time, I found no resisting force opposed to mine you yielded to my dominionâ€"you. believed.” “ It was so,” I murmured faintly. . “ At the sametime, my brother, I felt the most earnest desire to be once more near you, to hear your voice, to see your frank and friendly face, to be standing again in V your pretty garden beside the running river. It was sunset, and I pictured to my- self the scene from that spot. Even as I did so, a dullness came over my sensesâ€"â€" the picture on my memory grew wider, brighter; I felt the cool breeze from the water ; I saw the red sun sinking over the far woods ; I heard the vesper»bells ringing from the steeples ; in a word, I was spiritu- ally there. Presently I became aware of the approach of something, I knew not whatâ€"but a something not of the same nature as myselfâ€"something that filled me with a shivering, half compounded of fear and half of pleasure. Then a sound, smo- thered and strange, as if unfitted for the organs of my spiritual sense, seemed to fill the space aroundâ€"a sound resembling speech, yet reverberating and confused, like distant thunder. I felt paralysed, and un- usable to turn. It came and died away a second time, yet more distinctly. I dis- tinguished words, but not their sense. It came a third time, vibrating, clear and loudâ€"“Albert, look round, man!” Mak- ing a terrible effort to overcome the bonds which seemed to hold me, I turnedâ€"I saw you! The next moment, a sharp pain wrung me in every limb; there came a brief darkness, and I then found myself, without any apparent lapse of time or sensible motion, sitting by yonder window, where, gazing on the sunset, I had begun to think of you. The sound of your voice yet rang in my ears ; the sight of your face was still before me; I shudderedâ€"I tried to think that all had been a. dream. I lifted my hands to my brow; they were numbed and heavy. Istrove to rise; but a rigid torpor seemed to weigh upon my limbs. You say that I was visibly present in this room. Can it be that my worst fears are confirmedâ€"that I possess a double being?” I hung franticly over him; I seized his hands in mine; they were cold as marble. Suddenly, as if by a. last spasmodic effort, he turned his head in the direction of the door, and looked earnestly forward. The power of speech was gone, but his eyes glar- ed with a. light that was more vivid than that of life. Struck with an appalling idea, I followed the course of his gaze. Hark l a. dull, dull soundâ€"measured, distinct,!and slow, as if of feet ascending. My blood froze; I could not remove my eyes from the doorway ; I could not breathe. Never and nearer came the stepsâ€"alternately light and heavy, light and heavy, as the tread of a. lame man. Nearer and nearerwaeross the landingâ€"upon the very threshold of the chamber. A sudden full beside me, a crash, a. darkness! Albert had slipped from his chair to the floor, dragging the table in his fall, and extinguishing the lights beneath the debris of the accident. We were both silent for some moments. At last I told him the circumstances of the bed and of the foot-marks on the sand, He was shocked, but scarcely surprised. “ I have been thinkiné much of you,” he said ; “and for successive nights I have dreamed of you and of my stayâ€"nay, even in that very bedroom. Yet I have been conscious of none of these symptoms of far- working. It is true that I have awaked each morning unrefreshed and weary, as if from bodily fatigue ; but this I attributed to over-study and constitutional weakness.” I did so. He remained fora. few moments coking at the fire before he spoke ; at last he proceeded, but in a still lower voice than before. “The first time was also in this room; but how much more terrible than the second. I had been readingâ€"read- ing a metaphysical work upon the nature of the soulâ€"when I experienced, quite sud- denly, a sensation of extreme lassitude. The book grew dim before my eyes; the room darkened ; I appeared to find myself in the streets of the town. Plainly 1 saw the churches in the gray evening dusk; plainly the hurrying passengers; plainly the faces of many whom I knew. Now it was the market-place; now the bridge; now the well-known street in which I live. Then I came to the door; it stood wide open to admit me. I passed slowly, slowly up the gloomy staircase ; I entered my own room ; and there”â€"â€"â€" 7 He banged ; his voice grew husky, and his face assumed a stony, almost a. distorted appgargncg. 'r 1 u “Myself! Myself, sitting in this very chair. Yes yes; myself stood gazing on myself! ‘Ve lookedâ€"4W: looked into each other’s eyes-«weâ€"weâ€"â€"We”â€"~â€"â€" His voice failed; the hand holding the Wine»gla.ss grew stiff, and the brittle vessel fell upon the hearth, and was shattered into a. thousand fragments. 7 7 ‘1 \Vill yofi not tell me the particulars of your first experience of this spiritual ab- Sunce ‘3” Wilbert sat pale and silent, as if he heard not. “ Albert S Albertul” I shrieked, “ look up. 0 heavens I what shall I do ‘2” Forgetting instantly everything but the danger of my friend, I flew to the bell and mug wildly for help. The vehemence of my cries, and the startling energy of the peel in the midnight silence of the house, roused every creature there ; and in less time than it takes to relate, the room was filled with a. crowd of anxious and terrified lodgers, saw”â€"â€" I repeat-ed the question. I “Give me some more brandy,” he said, “ 9nd will P911 you.j’ ‘l‘énd there you saw,” I urgedâ€"“yon some just roused from sleep, and others calL ed from their studies, with their re‘ading- lamps ill they: hands. I The first thing was to rescue Albert from where he lay, benenth the weight of the fa]- len tableâ€"t0 throw cold water on his face and hands, to loosen his neckcloth, to open the windows for the fresh night-air. “ It is of no use,” said a. young man, held- ing his head up and examining his eyes.‘ ,“ I am a surgeon; I live in this house. Your friend is dead.” “ Dead l” I echoed, sinking upon a chair. “ No, noâ€"not dead. He wasâ€"he was sub- 19°F}? “lie-3’. .. i “ No d-vubt,” replied the surgeon : “ it i3 prgbgbly his thi'rd‘attackl” _ “ Yes, yesâ€"I know it“ is Is there no hope ‘3” He shook his head and turned away. “ What has been the cause of his death ‘3” asked 9. bystander in an awestruck Whisper. “ Cntalepsy.” Some lpecimens From Records 01‘ Mortality Acruss the Sea. The book called “ Greater London ” con» tains a. number of quaint- and curious cpitapha which may prove jutercstmg to our readers : 111 l’lumstead Churchyard is a. tombstone to the memory bf Maater James Darling bearing the following : “ The hammer of Death was given f0 me For eating the memes 01f the tree." In St. Paulina’s Churchyard, Crayford, is the follovv'ing‘quain? igrcrirrion : “ Here lievth the. body of Vl’uter Isncll, 30 years clerk of this parish. He lived respect~ ed as a pious and inii‘tl‘iful man, And died on his WELV to church to assist at a. wedding, on the 3151; day of March, 1811, aged 70 years. The inhabitants of Crayford have raised this stone to his cheerful memory, and as a. tribute to his long and faithful services.” ‘Thc life of this clerk was just three scare and ten. Nearly half of which time he sang out Am-n. In his youth he was married, like other young men. But his wife died one way and so he chanted A'nw'n. A second he tuck; she departed~What then? He married and buried a third with Amen. Thus his joys and his mrrows were Treble; but than His voice was deep 11mm as he sung out Amen ; On the How he could blow us well as most men, So his Horn was exalted in blowing Amen, But he lost all his Wind after three score and ten, So with three wives he waits till again The trumpet shall rouge him to sing out Amen. In Fax‘nboro Church, which is dedicated to St. Giles the Abbot, is a. moral tablet, beayipg tbe_foll_owing lqgeng :. “ Baoved; lamented ; Rebecca, ” Floyd, wife of Dent-Gen. Floyd ; victim of mater- nal affection ; she nursed her fevm"d infant in her bosom. One fate attended both; One grave contains the mother and the child. Almighty God receive their souls.” “ Mr. William Bumeb. Born January 19th, 16â€"Died October 29111, 1760. “ Wlm 1:4 MAN? To-day he‘s drest in cold and silver bright, Wrapt in a shroud before tomorrow night ; To-day he’s feasting on delicious food, To-morrow nothing eat can do him good ; To-dny he‘s nice and seems to feed on crumbs, In a few days himself adj-h tor wonns ; To-day he’s honoured, and in great esteem, To-morrow not H. beggar \ alues him : To-day he rises from a velvet bed, To-mormw lies in one that’s rapt in lead ; To-day his house, though lame, he thinks small To-morrow can command no house at all ; To-dny has twenty senants at his gate, Tn-nmrrow scarcely one will (icijrn to wail; ; ' ‘o-(lay perfumed, and sweet as is the rose, To-mui'row, stinlu in bvei'ybody’s nose ; To-(lay he's grand nmjestic. all delight, Ghastly and pale before nomonow night. As a. specimen of the punning epitaph wnich once was in vogue the following, found in Ihe parish church of Beddington, is notable : ‘ “One of the things which they begged for worst,” the lady said, “ was for grand- father’s fruit. Especially did one old In- dian plead : ‘ Emwmnst water, no quite W8.- ter;eenemnst pumpkin, no qmte pump in berry much me want him.”’ A lady who has honoured the editor by chatting with him for an hour told him among other things some anecdotes of the noble red men, who, in the days of her grandfather, still lingered. a forlorn and broken remnant, in the upper valley of the Kennehec River. The feature of civiliza- tion to which these half-tamed savages seem to have taken most kindly was begging, and numberless were the requests which they proffered, in wheedling tone and with sup- pliant manner, to the white brothers who dwelt in undisputed possession of the land once owned by the dusky ancestors of the petitioners. ‘ “But, what did he mean '3" the editor asked, stupidly. The lady laughed. “If you werea. darky,” she answered, “ you would soon guess.” " moms OREENUILL : “ Mors super uiv'idus monies. “ Thomas Greenhill was born and bred& in the famous university of 0X01), Bachelor of Arts, and somplime Student of Magd. Coll. Steward to the Noble Knights Sir Nics Carew, of Beddiugton, who deceased Sept. 17, 1624. “ Now when you’ve wrote and said whate’er you can, This is the best you mm say of MAN.” “ Under thy feet interred is here A native born in ()xfordshire ; i, First life and learning ()xfm‘tl gave, “ Surrey him his death and grave. He once a [MI was fresh and Cream. Now withered is not to he seene : Earth in Earth shovelled up is shut, A Ilii’l into a. H lee is put; But darksome earth by Power Divine. Brivht at last. as the sun may shine." In All Saints’ Church, Carshalton, the memory of a. village barber, who, though very stout, was a. noted dancer, is perpetu- ated in the following humorous lines : “ Tom Humphreyslios here by death beguiled, Who never did harm to man, woman or child ; And sniuc without foe n'x mun evm‘ was known, Poor, Tom, he was nniiovly‘s foe but his own: Lic light on him (arth, for none would than he (Though heavy his talk) trip it lighter on thee." Near by is the grave of a. former rector, Whose record reads thus : And then the héarer divined that the no- ble savage hankered for watermelon. “Under ye middle stone that gvards yev ashes of a. certain Fryer, some time Vicar of this Place, is raked up the doste of W'. Quelche, B. D.. why ministered in yo same since ye Reformacion. His lutb was, bhx‘ovgh God’s mercy, to byrne Incence here about 30 yr. ; and ended his covrse April 10, Ana, Dni. 1654, being aged 64 years. “ Those whom a two-fact service here made twaine, At length a friendly grave makes one aguyne. Happy the day that hides our sinfoll jaws, That shvts up all our shame in Ran-them bans, Here let vs sleppe as one till Ct. _\c ivst Shall sever both our service, faith and dvst, What the Indian Wanted. CURIOI’S EPITAPH S.