Of the differing modes of operation it is in vain
to speak. One thing only seems clear, that it
is not always, as in the case last quoted, a mere
reproduction of the dying or deceased image,
but is endowed with the power of presenting
the appearance of action and vitality, and
imparting impressions entirely foreign to such as
would naturally arise from a contemplation of the
scene actually passing.

The story of the Tyrone ghost—as famous in
its day as that of Lord Lyttelton—would, if
authenticated, have been only second in value to
the less renowned—equally apocryphal—legend
inserted in the parish register of Gately,
Norfolk, in the handwriting of the Reverend Robert
Withers, then (1706) vicar of the parish,
relating how that, while Mr. Shaw, "an ingenious
good man, formerly Fellow of St. John's,
Cambridge, sat smoking, reading " (it may be
surmised, dozing), "comes in, o' the sudden, Mr.
Naylor—likewise of St. John's—who hath been
dead this four years."

The little embarrassment arising from the
novelty of the position having been got over,
the two gentlemen chatted together very
comfortably tor two hours, the only drawback being
the somewhat unsatisfactory account given by
the visitor as to the condition of certain old
associates who had, it was hoped, passed into a
land of rest. Whether worthy Mr. Shaw offered
his friend a pipe, or other refreshment, is not
stated; but, "as he was going away, he asked
him to stay a little longer. He refused. And I
then inquired if he would be like to call again?"
(Perhaps a select circle of old Cambridge chums
would have been invited to meet him!) " No"
was, however, the reply; " He had but three days'
leave of absence, and, withal, other business;"
about which, it is to be presumed, he went.

We may smile at the readiness with which the
good minister attempted to give to what was
manifestly a dream, the force of reality. But
the Tyrone ghost, above referred to, rests upon
a mass of testimony which, could it be brought
to harmonise without flaw, could be only
dismissed on the plea that it was a cleverly
concocted experiment upon public credulity. It
had been denied and reasserted times out of
mind. Few tales so closely canvassed have
been ultimately left in a condition of equal
uncertainty. It has been conjectured that members
of the Beresford family might be in the possession
of particulars which, if they failed to elucidate
the source of the narrative, might, at least,
correct its inaccuracies. But neither hint nor
challenge from the curious has produced any
such evidence, nor is there special reason for
believing that any such is in existence.

It is a little singular that the writer, while
engaged on this paper, has received intimation
that something of a remarkable nature has
transpired with regard to the case in question,
having a tendency to corroborate what has been
popularly believed. Lest this should prove
true, we will recapitulate the story as shortly
as possible, omitting minor details.

Lord Tyrone and Lady Anne Beresford were
alike left orphans. They were of the same age,
and under the care of the same guardian, who
was a Deist, and who educated them in
principles similar to his own. At the age of fourteen
they were separately removed to other care,
and efforts were made to indoctrinate them in
the truths of revealed religion. These were
only partially successful. The minds of the
children were perplexed and unhappy, and, in
one of their conversations (for their friendship
continued as before), a mutual promise was made
that, whichever should die first should appear to
the survivor, and declare what religious faith
was most acceptable to the Supreme Judge.

The young lady married Sir Marcus Beresford,
with whom, after a considerable period of
wedded life, she was one day seated at breakfast,
when her husband noticed that she looked
unusually pale, and, moreover, that she wore
round one of her wrists a broad black ribbon.
In allusion to the latter, Sir Marcus inquired if
any accident had befallen her. She replied that
he would never again see her without that
ribbon; but implored him to abstain from all
inquiry, then, or ever, into the subject. Here
for the moment the conversation ended; but,
during breakfast, the servant entering with the
post-bag, Lady Beresford became violently
agitated, and exclaimed:

"It is as I expected. He is dead!"

"Who is. dead?" asked Sir Marcus, in
surprise.

"Lord Tyrone. He died on Tuesday, at four
o'clock."

The bag was found to contain a letter from
Lord Tyrone's steward, reporting his master's
death at the time stated.

A few months after this event, Lady Beresford,
who had already two daughters, presented
her husband with a son. When this boy was
four years old, his father, Sir Marcus, died, and
the widow withdrew into almost complete retirement,
visiting no family but that of a clergyman,
who, with his wife and a son, resided in the
same village. To this son, many years her
junior, Lady Beresford, much to the amazement
of her friends, was married.

By this union she had two more daughters,
but her husband proved a reckless and
abandoned libertine, and they lived for some years
separate, until his expressions of contrition led
to a renewal of intercourse, and she
subsequently became the mother of a fifth daughter.

It was about a month after this confinement
that she is said to have summoned to her chamber
a very dear friend, Lady B. C., and
also her son by Sir Marcus Beresford (then a
lad of twelve), and narrated the following particulars:

After admitting the compact between herself
and Lord Tyrone, before alluded to, she stated
that being one night suddenly awakened, she
saw his lordship seated by the bed. She
screamed aloud, and strove in vain to arouse
her husband. A long conversation succeeded,
in which Lord Tyrone informed her that he had
died on Tuesday, at four o'clock, and had been