An uncle, residing at Barnes, calling one day
to invite them to pass a day at his house, was
struck with the pale and languid aspect of his
elder niece, and, on pressing for an explanation,
obtained from her the following singular statement:

Her indisposition and melancholy arose from
a strange vision, or fancy, of the previous night;
not, as she positively insisted, the offspring of
sleep, for she had been unusually disturbed and
wakeful, as one might feel when in expectation
of some important event, that might occur at
any moment.

Suddenly, her attention was attracted by a
deep-drawn sigh. Starting up she saw, standing
beside the bed, her brother! He was in
uniform, and appeared to be wounded.

In a low, quiet voice, he accosted her, saying
that this vision had become necessary, in order
that he might reveal to her a secret that had
pressed heavily on his mind, and affected the
happiness of others. He informed her that a
battle had taken place near Badajos, in which
he had been slain; and then went on to relate
that, during the life of their father, Colonel B.,
he (the speaker) had contracted an imprudent
marriage with the beautiful daughter of a small
farmer, in whose cottage he had taken refuge
from a storm while hunting. The knowledge
of their father's family pride had sealed his lips
as to this mésalliance, but his own death having
now deprived his wife and child of their sole
protector, he had come to reveal their existence
and condition, and commend them to his hearer's
sisterly care. Mentioning where they would be
found, the shadow became invisible.

It was agreed between uncle and niece that
the story should be suppressed until some
corroboration of the event referred to by the
apparition should be obtained. Meanwhile, the date
of this incident was written down and sealed,
the uncle placing it in his cabinet.

In a day or two news arrived from the seat of
war. There had been, it was affirmed, no battle
near Badajos; but that place had capitulated.

Poor Miss B. had to endure some ridicule
from her uncle respecting the treacherous ghost;
but this was speedily stopped. A despatch
correcting the report was received, stating, from
authority, that there had been a failure of the
capitulation, followed by a desperate action, in
which (the subsequent returns announced)
Captain B. had been killed on the day previously
mentioned.

Together, the uncle and niece proceeded to
the direction given in the latter's vision, and
there found the young widow (who was suffering
from consumption) and a child, about
eleven years old. The former quickly followed
her husband to the grave; the latter was
adopted by her aunts, and resided with, them
until her marriage.

IV. THE PROMISE REDEEMED.

My friend, Mrs. H., recounted to me the
following remarkable incident in her life:

She was married at a somewhat early age,
and, shortly thereafter, accompanied her
husband to India, where she remained until
delicate health compelled her, after the birth of
her second child, to return to England.

A deep despondency seized her at the idea of
the approaching painful separation from her
husband; but there was no alternative, and, at
the appointed time, the latter accompanied her
to the ship, doing his utmost to cheer and
reassure her with the hope of a happy reunion.

"It is in vain, William," was her persistent
rejoinder. "I feel convinced that, in this
world, I shall never see you again."

"You shall see me, love," replied H. "I
feel that I can make you that promise. Nothing
—no, not death itself—shall prevent your seeing
me again. Be comforted with that assurance."

On her arrival in England, Mrs. H. joined
her father and sisters at Brighton, where the
salubrious air quickly restored her health and
strength. A twelvemonth elapsed, during which
period the accounts from India were regular
and satisfactory, and Mr. H., in his later
letters, expressed his joy at her recovery, and
his hope that she would return to him at the
first moment her health permitted.

Her father was an early riser, and somewhat
imperative on that subject with his household.
His daughters, consequently, were sometimes
compelled to defer the more elaborate touches
of their toilet until after the matutinal meal,
and it was upon one of these occasions that all
three had returned to their dressing-rooms—
Mrs. H. and one of her sisters in a large apartment
looking to the front, the other lady in a
room adjoining.

Mrs. H., in her dressing-robe, was walking
about, brushing her hair, when she happened
to approach the window. The house was
situated in the crescent of Kemp-town, and,
facing the sea, commanded both approaches—
right and left. Her eye fell upon a mail-
phaeton, rapidly approaching, that seemed to
rivet her attention. It contained no one but
the driver—a gentleman. As he came nearer
she uttered a cry of delight, that brought her
sisters to her side.

"It is William! It is William!" was all she
could say.

Her sisters recognised the familiar face, as
well as herself. Mr. H., as the carriage drew
near, looked up at the window, inclined his
head, and smiled. Much excited at this sudden
arrival, his wife hurriedly completed her dressing,
and ran down-stairs into the drawing-room.
Her father was there alone.

"Why—where is he? Where is William?"
she hastily asked.

"William!" repeated her father. "Why, in
India, my dear. Where should he be?"

"No, no; he's come! He is here! We
have seen him! Perhaps he has gone round to
the stables. He might have spoken to me
first," sobbed the disappointed wife.

After remaining silent, in pique, for a minute
or two, she could brook the delay no longer,
and, ringing the bell, desired a servant to run
round to the stables and bring word who was
there.