having a small basin and ewer and a single
towel arranged on the top of it. There were,
moreover, two ancient chairs and a dressing-
table. Oanthis last, stood a large old-fashioned
looking-glass with a carved frame.

"I must have seen all these things, because
I remember them so well now, but I do not
know how I could have seen them, for it seems
to me that, from the moment of my entering
that room, the action of my senses and of
the faculties of my mind was held fast by the
ghastly figure which stood motionless before the
looking-glass in the middle of the empty room.

"How terrible it was! The weak light,
of one candle standing on the table shone
upon Strange's face, lighting it from below,
and throwing (as I now remember) his shadow,
vast and black, upon the wall behind him and
upon the ceiling overhead. He was leaning
rather forward, with his hands upon the table
supporting him, and gazing into the glass which
stood before him with a horrible fixity. The
sweat was on his white face; his rigid features
and his pale lips showed in that feeble
light were horrible, more than words can tell,
to look at. He was so completely stupified and
lost, that the noise I had made in knocking
and in entering the room was unobserved by
him. Not even when I called him loudly by
name did he move or did his face change.

"What a vision of horror that was, in the
great dark empty room, in a silence that was
something more than negative, that ghastly
figure frozen into stone by some unexplained
terror! And the silence and the stillness! The
very thunder had ceased now. My heart stood
still with fear. Then, moved by some instinctive
feeling, under whose influence I acted mechanically,
I crept with slow steps nearer and nearer
to the table, and at last, half expecting to see
some spectre even more horrible than this which
I saw already, I looked over his shoulder into the
looking-glass. I happened to touch his arm,
though only in the lightest manner. In that
one moment the spell which had held him
who knows how long?—- enchained, seemed
broken, and he lived in this world again. He
turned round upon me, as suddenly as a tiger
makes its spring, and seized me by the arm.

"I have told you that even before I entered
my friend's room I had felt, all that night ,
depressed and nervous. The necessity for
action at this time was, however, so obvious,
and this man's agony made all that I had felt,
appear so trifling, that much of my own discomfort
seemed to leave me. I felt that I must
be strong.

"The face before me almost unmanned
me. The eyes which looked into mine were
so scared with terror, the lips—- if I may
say so—- looked so speechless. The wretched
man gazed long into my face, and then, still
holding me by the arm, slowly, very slowly,
turned his head. I had gently tried to move
him away from the looking-glass, but he would
not stir, and now he was looking into it as fixedly
as ever. I could bear this no longer, and, using
such force as was necessary, I drew him gradually
away, and got him to one of the chairs
at the foot of the bed. 'Come!' I said
—- after the long silence my voice, even to
myself, sounded: trance and hollow—- 'come!
You are over-tired, and you feel the weather.
Don't you think you ought to be in bed?
Suppose you lie down. Let me try my medical
skill in mixing you a composing draught.'

"He held my hand, and looked eagerly into
my eyes. ' I am better now,' he said, speaking
at last very faintly. Still he looked at me
in that wistful way. It seemed as if there
were something that he wanted to do or say,
but had not sufficient resolution. At length
he got up from the chair to which I had
led him, and beckoning me to follow him, went
across the room to the dressing-table, and stood
again before, the glass. A violent shudder
passed through his frame as he looked into it;
but apparently forcing himself to go through
with what he had now begun, he remained
where he was, and, without looking away,
moved to me with his hand to come and stand
beside him. I complied.

"' Look in there!' he said, in an almost
inaudible tone. He was supported, as before,
by his hands resting on the table, and could
only bow with his head towards the glass to
intimate what he meant. ' Look in there!' he
repeated.

"I did as he asked me.

"' What do you see?' he asked next.

"' See?' I repeated, trying to speak as cheerfully
as I could, and describing the reflexion of
his own face as nearly as I could. 'I see a
very, very pale face with sunken cheeks—- '

"' What?' he cried, with an alarm in his
voice which I could not understand.

"' With sunken cheeks I went on, ' and
two hollow eyes with large pupils.'

"I saw the reflexion of my friend's face
change, and felt his hand clutch my arm even
more tightly than he had done before. I
stopped abruptly and looked round at him.
He did not turn his head towards me, but,
gazing still into the looking-glass, seemed to
labour for utterance.

"' What,' he stammered at last. ' Do—- you
—- see it—- too?'

"' See what?' I asked, quickly.

"' That face!' he cried, in accents of horror.
'That face—- which is not mine—- and which—- I
SEE INSTEAD OF MINE—- always!'

"I was struck speechless by the words. In
a moment this mystery was explained but what
an explanation! Worse, a hundred times worse,
than anything I had imagined. What!  Had
this man lost the power of seeing his own image
as it was reflected there before him? and, in its
place, was there the image of another? Had
he changed reflexions with some other man?
The frightfulness of the thought struck me
speechless for a time—-t hen I saw how false an
impression my silence was conveying,.

"' No, no, no!' I cried, as soon as I could
speak—- 'a hundred times, no! I see you, of