whole evening, in which you received tales of
Mesmer, Schropfer, Cagliostro, and other mo-
dern pretenders to the mystery of raising spirits,
discovering hidden treasure, and so forth, in
exchange for your legends of the green bed-cham-
ber--and considering that the Illustrissimus ate
a pound and a half of Scotch collops to supper,
smoked six pipes, and drank ale and brandy in
proportion, I am not surprised at his having a fit
of the night-mare-But every thing is now ready.
Permitme to light you to yourapartment, Mr Lovel
-I am sure you have need of rest—and I trust
my ancestor is too sensible of the duties of hos-
pitality to interfere with the repose which you
have so well merited by your manly and gallant
behaviour.»
So saying, the Antiquary took up a bed-room

a candlestick of massive silver and antique form, which, he observed, was wrought out of the silver found in the mines of the Harz mountains, and had been the property of the very personage who had supplied them with a subject for conversation. And having so said, he led the way through many a dusky and winding passage, now ascending and anon descending again, until he came to the apartment destined for his young guest.

CHAPTER X.

When midnight o'er the moonless skies
Her pall of transient death has spread,
When mortals sleep, when spectres rise,
And none are wakeful but the dead,
No bloodless shape my way pursues,
No sheeted ghost my couch annoys,
Visions more sad my fancy views, –
Visions of long-departed joys.

W. R. SPENSER.

a

When they reached the Green Room, as it was called, Oldbuck placed the candle on the toilettable, before a hugê mirror with a black japanned frame, surrounded by dressing-boxes of the same, and looked around him with something of a disturbed expression of countenance. « I am seldom in this apartment,» he said, «and never without yielding to a melancholy feeling-not, of course, on account of the childish nonsense that Grizel was telling you, but owing to circumstances of an early and unhappy attachment. It is at such moments as these, Mr Lovel, that we feel the changes of time. The same objects are before us—those inanimate things which we have gazed on in wayward infancy and impetuous youth, in anxious and scheming manhood—they are permanent and the same; but when we look upon them in cold unfeeling old age, can we, changed in our temper, our pursuits, our feelings,-changed in our form, our limbs, and our strength,--can we be ourselves called the same? or do we not rather look back with a sort of wonder upon our former selves, as beings separate and distinct from what we now are? The pbilosopher, who appealed from Philip inflamed with wine to Philip in his hours of sobriety, did not chuse a judge so different, as if he had appealed from Philip in his youth to Philip in his old age. I cannot but be touched with the feeling so beautifully expressed in a poem which I have heard repeated :*

a

My eyes are dim with childish tears,

My heart is idly stirr'd,
For the same sound is in my ears.

Which in these days I hgard.

Thus fares it'still in our decay;

And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what time takes away,

Than what he leaves behind.

Well, time cures every. wound, and though the scar may remain and occasionally ache, yet the earliest agony

of its recent infliction is felt no more.»--So saying, he shook Lovel cordially by the hand, wished him good night, and took his leave.

Step after step Lovel could trace his host's retreat along the various passages, and each door which he closed behind him fell with a sound more distant and dead.' The

guest,

thus

separated from the living world, took up the candle and surveyed the apartment. The fire blazed cheerfully. Mrs Grizel's attention had left some fresh wood, should he chuse to continue it, and the apartment had a comfortable, though not a lively, appearance. It was hung with tapestry, which the looms of Arras had produced in the sixteenth century, and which the learned typograpber, so often mentioned, had brought with him as a sample of the arts of the continent. The subject was a hunting-piece; and as the leafy boughs of the forest-trees, branching over the tapestry, formed the predominant colour, the apartment had thence acquired its name of the green chamber. Grim figures, in the old Flemish dress, with slashed doublets, covered with ribbands, short cloaks, and trunk-hose, were engaged in holding grey-hounds or stag-hounds in the leash, or cheering them upon the objects of their game. Others, with boar-spears, swords, and old-fashioned guns, were attacking stags or bear whom they had brought to bay. The branches of the woven forest were crowded with fowls of various kinds, each depicted with its proper plumage. It seemed as if the prolific and rich invention of old Chaucer had animated the Flemish artist with its profusion, and Oldbuck had accordingly caused the following verses, from that ancient and excellent poet, to be embroidered, in Gothie letters, on a sort of border which he had added to the tapestry:

Lo! here be oakis grete, streight as a lime,

Under the which the grass, so fresh of line,
Be'th newly sprung-at eight foot or nine.

Everich tree well from his fellow grew,
With branches broad laden with leaves new,

That sprongeu out against the sonné sheene,
Some golden red, and some a glad bright green.

And in another canton was the following similar legend:

And many an hart, and many an hind,
Was both before me and behind.
Of fawns, sownders, bucks, and does,
Was full the wood, and many roes,
And many squirrels that ysate
High on the trees and nuts ate,

The bed was of dark and faded green, wrought to correspond with the tapestry, but by a inore modern and less skilful band. The large and heavý stuff-bottomed chairs, with black ebony backs, were embroidered upon the same pattern, and a lofty mirror, over the antique chimneypiece, corresponded in its mounting with that on the old-fashioned toilet.

« I have heard,» thought Lovel, as he took a cursory view of the room and its furniture, « that ghosts often chose the best room in the mansion,