set fire to a chafing dish filled with tow saturated with spirits of wine, and threw into it the scroll of parchment, enveloped with white wax. When the flame had consumed this document, a strong, but balsamic odour perfumed the apartment.

The clock struck twelve. The folding-doors of the dining. room opened by themselves, and a mysterious illumination lit the room. The chandeliers were made to represent the forms of certain celestial signs. There were thirteen plates and thirteen chairs, while we were only seven. Prince Louis, who was now ceremoniously attentive to all the observances of society, made us precede him. I entered first, then the Prince of Nassau, de Boufflers, d'Espremenil, and the lawyer, while he brought up the rear. The door closed upon us, and we sat down. No servants attended.

Suddenly the door of the room we had left was flung open, with an abruptness which made us all start. A female presented herself. Her stature was of the ordinary height; her cheeks round and rosy; her eyes flashed, and there was something heavenly in her smile. It was Joan of Arc. Her dress was half peasant and half warlike-exceedingly becoming, but bearing no resemblance to those which she wears in the portrait. We remarked upon her mail petticoat, the azure escutcheon presented to her by Charles the Seventh, together with a silver sword, with its golden hilt, wreathed with fleursde lis of gold. The greatest of the Caesars came next to her. We knew him at once by his bald head, covered with laurels, and by the gravity and simplicity of his air. The third who appeared was the elegant Marcus Tullius Cicero. I see him still, wrapt up in his toga and mantle. His look was acute and piercing and round his neck I noticed a red line, which brought to recollection, that after the assassins had cut off his head, they fixed it on the rostrum in the forum, the scene of his greatest triumphs. Cardinal Duperron was the next guest; covered to the neck with his scarlet cossack, and carrying his cardinal's hat; his beard was long and bushy, and his physiog nomy indicated the fineness of his genius. After him came Cataline, fierce and melancholy; a shiver came over him as he saw Cicero and Cæsar sitting together; and he gnashed his teeth at the former, who had been the occasion of his defeat and death. Cagliostro held forth his star-studded wand toward the haughty patrician, who sank into a sullen gloominess, which did not leave him during the repast. During this interval, the majestic figure of the constable, Anne de Montmorency, advanced. One hand was supported by his gigantic sword, the edge of which was indented like a saw, by the numberless blows it had dealt; in the other hand he held a rosary of lapis lazuli, strung with medals, agnus dei, and small relics. He walked totteringly; his eyes were steadily fixed on Cæsar; as he passed the two cardinals he shrugged his shoulders, and when he seated himself by my side, he honoured me with an obliging bow.

The sight of these extraordinary personages deprived us of all inclination to eat. We all of us had the same thought-to touch them, in order to be assured whether they were opaque bodies or phantoms-but we dared not. More daring than the others, and under the pretext of helping my lord the constable, to unbuckle his rapier, I took hold of the hilt-an electric shock, agonisingly painful, nearly shook my arm out of its socket, so that I had no inclination to renew the experiment; besides, such an expression came over the features of Messire Anne, that my only care was to protect myself, in case he should commence hostilities. All this time not a word was spoken, and the full plates were untouched. Count Cagliostro, wishing to enliven the company, turned toward Joan of Arc.

“Lady,” said he, "is it true that you were not burned t› death at Rouen, as the Armoise family assert; for you know, they pretend that subsequent to the alleged date of your death, you were married to one of their young men."

The august virgin smiled, and the tone of her voice thrilled through us, as she said :-"Do not remove the disgrace of my murder from the English; it is a spot which they can never

whiten."

Julius Cæsar interrupted this compliment, by saying to Cicero: "Tullius, these Gauls whom I employed myself in defeating for ten years, have made a pretty figure in history since our time."

"Emperor," rejoined the constable," they have more than once defeated the Romans; Charles the Eighth, our wellbeloved king, entered Rome itself, with vizor lowered, and holding his lance erect, against his right thigh, in sign of conquest."

That was because Cæsar was no longer there," said the eloquent orator.

"Or rather because the French were there," replied the patriot constable.

Cæsar made no reply, but smiled with so much disdain that I was mortified; but I dared not interfere in the dispute. Cardinal Duperron, who was anxious to speak, said: "Come, sirs, let us live together in peace, since Heaven has forbidden war."

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Duperron, my friend," observed Anne impatiently and ironically, "would it not better become you to be silent when our Lord Julius Cæsar is speaking? I am sure you have talked enough during your life without any good resulting from it.

"Oh, friend of the king," answered Cardinal Duperron, without manifesting any ill-humour, "you talk rather too often about your battles. But we always took especial care never to ask your advice in council. But do not let us quarrel during the few hours we are permitted to remain on earth.” Thereupon, the constable turning upon Cæsar, whom he saluted as imperator, answered him if he knew what a cardinal was, or could guess the use of one; and here commenced a not very edifying conversation, in which Cicero joined. The excitement became somewhat opressive; when Cagliostro waved his starry wand. Five of the phantoms instantly rose, and passed quickly into the saloon without taking leave; one only remained at the table: it was Cataline.

"Do you not understand me?" said Cagliostro to him. "What is the use of my going," answered he, “ when I shall so soon be wanted back? Duval d'Espremenil," added the spectre, turning to the counsellor of the parliament, "my soul is in your bosom, you walk in my footsteps, but you will go farther than me; but like me, you will die by the hand of the curnifex, or in a broil."

So saying he rose, glanced a scowl of awful malignity upon his neighbours, and went the same way as the others. As for us, we continued motionless, more particularly myself, to whom this cursed Cataline had predicted, as he went out, that I should meet the same fate as the impetuous and audacious parliamentarian.

Our guests from the other world being gone, we left the table without eating, and returned in silence to the saloon; Count Cagliostro made us promise not to disclose this event for a limited period, unless to make proselytes to his creed.

re

ALCHYMY.-In the thirteenth century the study of alchymy was revived in the west of Europe, and prosecuted with an ardour which seemed to redouble in proportion as it subsided in the east, which was its birth-place. In the fourte th century the believe in alchymy was universal among the most rank of men of science and erudition. Still greater importance was given to the art by the patronage of the ecclesiastics, many of whom practised it with amazing perseverance. Pope John XXII., who died in 1334, wrote a work on the philosopher's stone, in which he went the length of asserting, that he had himself made two hundred ingots of gold, of e hundred pounds weight each. Bacon, Albert Magnus, and Lully, wrote elaborately upon the subject, and the libraries of ecclesiastical institutions teemed with treatises on the art of gold-making. In summing up the evidence of various writers, for and against the possibility of gold-making, and of the art of transmuting metals, Bergman has observed, that "although most of them are deceptive, and many uncertain, some bear such character and testimony, that unless we reject all historical evidence, we must allow them entitled to confidence."

desired them, without fear or affright, to observe all that should pass in review before them, and to commit it to posterity, assuring them of no hurt, but protesting they should now have the words of his response fully explained.

"No sooner had the holy father said these words, than waving his hand gently round, the lights by which the room was illuminated became suddenly extinct, except one hanging lamp which slowly ascended, so that its flanie was perfectly enveloped in a cylindrical chimney, that resembled an opaque shade. In this gloomy and wavering light a curtain was drawn up at one end of the room, and presented a beautiful landscape of Bosworth Field in the moment of victory. But the ambassador had scarcely time to contemplate this aerial picture, when the whole scene was changed; the room was illuminated, and every object wore its natural brilliancy and tone of colouring.

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The monk now again waved the white wand he held in his hand, and immediately a door opened; and there entered the room a lusty stout young gentleman, strong and of large proportions, with a very furious, yet majestical look. His doublet was richly ornamented; and he wore in his hat, which inclined on one side of his head, a full plume of white feathers. His manner was blunt, but active; and he wore on his thigh a large strong sword, by which he seemed in no ways encumbered. As he advanced towards the upper end of the room where the astrologer was seated, to the astonishment of the ambassador and his friends, there instantly appeared a crown, laid upon a fair table. The gallant, with much jollity approached this crown, put it upon his head, and walked up and down the chamber with much strutting and bravery. But at last, as it were with much reluctance, he repaired to the place where he first took up the crown, and there gently laid it down with some obeisance, and disappeared, seeming to sink into the ground.

"Do but think

How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Within whose circuit is Elysium,

And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.” "The figure of Richard the Third extended on the field, was not more like that Bear-whelp' than the phantom that disappeared was like Henry the Seventh.

The monk again waved his wand, the door opened as before, and there entered a young youth,' full of modesty, and looking carefully on the beholders; he went to that part of the room where the crown lay, and with some difficulty put it on his head. He then traversed the room a little while; with some labour and pains he discharged his head of its heavy burden, and having assigned the crown to its proper seat, vanished as an apparition before the eyes of mortal men.

""Tis better to be lowly born,

And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glittering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow."

"While the distinguished foreigners were wrapped in surprise and astonishment by the unaccountable manner in which this last vision disappeared-for he seemed to undergo some extra. ordinary transmutation, that in an instant left upon their minds no other impression than the dreamer has of a phantom in his dream-the monk waved his wand, the lights vanished, and images of the ambassador and his friends were formed on the distant curtain, having all the similitude one thing could have of another.

"The illusions of darkness,' said the monk, are but verifications of my power to elucidate the sealed response which I gave to his excellency. If I show you the living, and ye be not satisfied, I shall conjure from their tombs the ghosts of departed men of your isle.' As he spoke this, the lamp was perfectly enveloped in its opaque shade, and the total darkness of the place was only interrupted by flashes of lightning, succeeded by peals of thunder. Then there seemed to walk on the remote wall painted figures, moulded in relievo, of the kings of England, from William the Conqueror to Richard the Third. The Black Prince appeared in complete armour, with his squire and steed, in all its housings and war-gear. These,' said the seer, as the Third Richard disappeared, these are all

subject to my power in this place, and even forms more hideous and terrific than the imagination of my spectators ever fancied. Our vouchers now are ended-Mars Puer, I have explained; and now for Alecto, Virgo, Vulpes, Leo, Nullus.' "The room was once more restored to the full blaze of many lights, and the door at the further end opening, a lady, in mourning attire, of a sad countenance and much gravity, with a book in her hand, entered before the spectators; she walked demurely to the upper end of the chamber, put the crown upon her head, and then stepped a few paces up and down with much sadness, and evidently discontented by her looks, she then repaired to the table where the other apparitions had put down the crown, and there also she deposited it, vanishing like her predecessors.

"The next in order that appeared was a young lady, clothed in stately apparel, and wearing a countenance both cheerful and lively, she advanced to the upper end of the room, and there with much cheerfulness put the crown upon her head, and afterwards, for a pretty space of time, with much majesty and state, passed up and down the apartment, and then gently left the crown in the place she received it, vanishing instantly out of sight.

"The room all of a sudden became dark again, the hanging lamp rose into its conical covering, and, on the further wall, there appeared, first, the word Alecto, in crimson colour, and that of Virgo, in silvery white, with some drops of blood, as it were, sullying the three first letters. When the spectators had looked on these miraculous visions for a moment, the lights were restored; the door opened as before, and there advanced immediately into the centre of the room, another apparition in the dress of a huntsman, with a horn by his side, in rich green apparel.

"He no sooner espied the crown, than without any ceremony he put it upon his head, and with much carelessness walked up and down the chamber; but at last repaired to the same place where the rest had disposed of the glittering bauble, and there quietly left it.

"Glory is like a circle in the water,

Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,

Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought." "The huntsman had no sooner strutted his hour upon the stage,' vanished into airy nothing,' than a fierce young man, active and nimble, entered into the chamber, and made great haste to the upper end where the crown lay, which he snatched up in great eagerness, and putting it on his head, made many nimble turnings from one end of the room to the other, but when it was expected that he should in gentlewise lay down the crown, as all the rest had done before him, behold! both he and the crown vanished out of sight and appeared no more, to the great wonderment and fear of the ambassador and the English gentlemen then present.

"His excellency now besought the monk to explain this strange phenomenon; but the astrologer declared, that as he had neither in the words of the response, nor in the apparitions that elucidated these words, expressed more or less than the truth, he must leave to time all further explanation of his sense and meaning.

"The story we have now given was very popular in England when Lilly made up his collection of ancient and modern prophecies, 1640. That curious writer goes even so far as to say, that he had twenty years before, heard the Roman priests speak much of it; and he believes that the foreknowledge of it was a strong inducement, in the reign of King Charles the First, to go on with activenesse against protestanisme,' as for some years they have done.

The vision of the Green King is also alluded to by Osborne in his Traditional Memoirs;' the popularity of the vision in the seventh century, its application to the second of the Stuart line on the English throne, the interpretation of Nullus by the Commonwealth under that great man, Oliver Cromwell, gave the Latin hexameter an importance of considerable magnitude.

"This curious and well-authenticated anecdote cannot, for a moment, leave a doubt on the mind as to the truth of the monk's astrologic prediction; that he illustrated it by the use

of the phantasmagoria, is also evident; the visions appearing like shadows in relief or painted, and the room being darkened, may be taken as proofs of this assertion; but the most interesting part of the anecdote, is in the contemplation of the great degree of accuracy to which he had brought that branch of astrology termed mundane, which, by its rules and precepts, distinctly points out the fate of nations and kingdoms; it was by this branch of the science that Lilly foretold the plague and fire of London, which caused him such celebrity, that he was publicly examined, as to the cause of those events, at the bar of the House of Commons. He there declared, that although he had bestowed much time and trouble in the investigation, he could not discover the origin, and that he therefore believed it to have been the direct will of God. This professor had attained to such a perfection in the art of astrology, that when humoursome he would boast of discovering even a lost glove by an astrological figure; but when he discovers his lost fish, and detects the thief, is admirable. He tells this in such a dry yet facetious manner, always referring according to the rules of art, and the astrologic scheme which he worked on the occasion, that to any one inclined to examine these matters, it really would prove a real treat to peruse it."

'T WAS YESTERDAY.

""T was yesterday!" familiar sound,
Heard oft as idle breath;
Yet, prophet-like, to all around
It spoke of woe and death!

A mourner by the past it stands,
In mystic mantle of decay,
Shrouds in the night of years its hands,
And grasps all life away!

High from the boundless vault of Time
The stars of empire veer;
""T was yesterday" they beam'd sublime,
The mightiest in their sphere!
'T was yesterday reveal'd to Fate

The rival crowns of centuries flown,
Show'd where a Phantom sat in state
Upon the Cæsars' throne !

Sceptre and robe were cast aside!
The ghastly bones stood bare;
The rust fed on the gauds of pride,
The worm held council there.
Nor answer would the phantom give,
But to our constant prayer replied-
"Thus 'twill be said of all that live

That 'yesterday' they died!"

We hope-but what we hope the shroud
Wraps from our weeping sight;
We aim at stars, and clasp the cloud-
Seek day, and find but night!

Ah! who with Life's dread woes could cope,
If 'twere not for that Faith sublime,
Which sees the Ararat of Hope
Above the floods of Time?

What, then, is "yesterday ?"-a key
To wisdom most divine!

It is the hall of Memory,

Where Fame's brief trophies shine! The spiritual home of things,

Where Intellect immortal beams,
Which lends to thought its holiest wings,
Inspires the noblest themes!

A drop that mirrors forth a world,
Then mingles with the earth;

A star from Time's vast empire hurled,
Slow falling from its birth.

A presence with the sacred past

To warn our spirits of delay,

Which saith, "Proud man, to-day thou hast, Use well thy little day!"

CHARLES SWAIN.

AUTHENTIC ACCOUNTS OF SUPERNATURAL VISITATION.

GIVEN IN A LETTER FROM MR. CASSWELL, THE MATHEMATICIAN, TO THE LEARNED DR. BENTLEY, THEN LIVING IN BISHOP STILLINGFLEET'S FAMILY.

SIR,-When I was in London, April last, I fully intended to have waited upon you again, as I said; but a cold and lameness seized me next day. The cold took away my voice, and the other my power of walking, so presently I took coach for Oxford. I am much your debtor, and in particular, for your good intentions in relation to Mr. D., though that, as it has proved, would not have turned to my advantage. However, I am obliged to you upon that and other accounts, and if I had opportunity to shew it, you would find how much I am your faithful servant. I have sent you inclosed a relation of an apparition; the story I had from two persons, who each had it from the author, and yet their accounts somewhat varied, and passing through more mouths, has varied much more; therefore I got a friend to bring me to the author's at a chamber, where I wrote it down from the author's own mouth, after which I read it to him, and gave him another copy; he said he could swear to it as far as he is concerned; he is the curate of Warblington, bachelor of arts, of Trinity college, in Oxford, about six years standing in the university; I hear no ill report of his behaviour here; he is now gone to his curacy; he has promised to send up the hands of his tenant and his man, who is a smith by trade, and .the farmer's men, as far as they are concerned. Mr. Brereton, the rector, would have him say nothing of the story, for that he can get no tenant, though he has offered the house for ten pounds a year less. Mr. P., the former incumbent, whom the apparition represented, was a man of very ill report, supposed to have got children of his maid, and to have murdered them; but I advised the curate to say nothing himself of this last part of P., but leave that to the parishioners, who knew him. Those who knew this P., said he had exactly such a gown, and that he used to whistle. Your's

J. CASSWELL.

At Warblington, near Havant, in Hampshire, within six miles of Portsmouth, in the parsonage house dwelt Thomas Perce, the tenant, with his wife and a child, a man servant. Thomas and a maid servant. About the beginning of August, anno 1695, on a Monday, about nine or ten at night, all being gone to bed, except the maid with the child, the maid being in the kitchen, and having raked up the fire, took a candle in one hand, and the child in the other arm, and turning about, saw one in a black gown walking through the room, and thence out of the door into the orchard; upon this the maid, hasting, having recovered but two steps, cried out; on which the master and mistress ran down, found the candle in her hand, she grasping the child about its neck with the other arm; she told them the reason of her crying out. She would not tarry that night in the house, but removed to another, belonging to one Henry Salter, farmer, where she cried out all night, from the terror she was in; and she could not be persuaded to go any more into the house, upon any terms.

On the morrow (i. e. Tuesday), the tenant's wife came to my lodging, then at Havant, to desire my advice, and have a consultation with some friends about it. I told her I thought it was a flam, and that they had a mind to abuse Mr. Brereton, the rector, whose house it was; she desired me to come up; I told her I would come up, and sit up or lie there, as she pleased; for then, as to all stories of ghosts and apparitions, I was an infidel; I went thither, and sat up the Tuesday night, with the tenant and his man servant; about twelve or one o'clock I searched all the rooms in the house, to see if any body was hid there, to impose upon me; at last we came into a lumber-room; there I, smiling, told the tenant that was with me, that I would call the apparition, if there was any, and oblige him to come; the tenant then seemed to be afraid, but I told him, I would defend him from harm. And then I repeated Barbara celarent darii, &c., jestingly; on this the tenant's countenance changed so, that he was ready to drop