permitted to reveal himself in this manner, and
assure her that the revealed religion was alone
acceptable to the Almighty. He foretold the
birth of her son (the lad then present), and
that son's marriage with his, Lord Tyrone's,
daughter; the death of Sir Marcus; and her
own marriage with her present husband, by
whom she would have two daughters and a son.
He also told her that she would die—after her
confinement with the latter—in the forty-seventh
year of her age.

All this, as they knew, had come to pass, but,
up to the present day, she had concealed the
prophecy of her death, because, from a
miscalculation, she had believed herself now in her
forty-eighth year, and, consequently, past the
time of peril. This error, which she had only
discovered the previous day, convinced her that
her end was near.

Reverting to the spectral visit, she proceeded
to say that, having doubts whether she was not
wandering or asleep, she sought from the
apparition some proof of his actual presence, upon
which, at a wave of his hand, the crimson velvet
curtains passed themselves through a large iron
hoop which formed the canopy of the bed. He
further wrote some words in her pocket-book,
and, finding her still dissatisfied, touched (with
her consent, and after a warning) her wrist.
The sinews instantly shrank up, the nerves
seeming to wither, yet not so as to disable the
hand. Cautioning her never to display this
indelible token of his visit, Lord Tyrone
disappeared.

"When I am dead," she concluded, "as the
necessity for concealment ends with my life, I
wish that you, my friend, should remove the
ribbon, and permit my son to see what it has
hidden."

With the utmost composure she made
preparations for death, which ensued the same
afternoon.

Her friend then unbound the ribbon, when
the wrist was found to present appearances
precisely such as might be expected from the narrative
related by the deceased lady. The black
ribbon and the pocket-book remained (in 1802)
still in the possession of her friend, believed, it
may be now mentioned, to be the Lady Betty
Cobbe. Lady Beresford's son married, as had
been predicted, the daughter of Lord Tyrone.

Such is the outline of this remarkable story,
a clear analysis of which, with comparison of
dates and of facts asserted, with those actually
ascertained, is beyond the limits of this paper.
"Credimus, quia incredibile est" ("We believe,
because it is incredible") is a hard saying to
the many. It is only when we consent to gaze
beyond the limited field of human knowledge
and practical demonstration, that the incredible
may be comprehended, the impossible overcome.

[NOTE BY THE CONDUCTOR. Without
presumptuously denying the possibility suggested
by the esteemed writer of this paper, it is to be
observed of such a story as Lady Beresford's
that the alleged facts need to be very distinctly
agreed upon. Lady Beresford's story may be
called one of the leading cases. In the version
of it which is the best known to us, Lady
Beresford demands of the Spirit some assurance
of the reality of its appearance. The Spirit then
causes the large curtain at the foot of the bed
to pass over the high tester, and asks is she
satisfied now? She objects that although she
could not climb up and do that, waking, still,
for aught she knows, she may be able to do it,
sleeping, and therefore she is not satisfied. The
Spirit then writes in her pocket-book which lies
on a table at the bedside, and asks her, is she
satisfied now? She objects that although she
could not counterfeit that hand, waking, still,
for aught she knows, she may be able to do it,
sleeping, and therefore she is not satisfied.
Then comes the touch upon the wrist and its
shrivelling up. We offered the suggestion, some
years ago, that this is very expressive of a state
of sleep-walking or half-consciousness, in which
Lady Beresford either actually did those two
acts, or debated with herself the possibility of
doing them; she being, either way, in an
exceptional condition presently culminating in a
stroke of local paralysis. Or, the whole may
have been a diseased impression accompanying
the paralysis; as most of us have dreamed a
long story clearly originating in its own
catastrophe—some disturbing sound.

Of the broad margin of allowance that must
always be left for coincidence in these cases, we
had personal experience not very long ago. We
dreamed that we were in a large assembly, and
saw a lady in a bright red wrapper, whom we
thought we knew. Her back being towards us,
we touched her. On her looking round, she
disclosed a face that was unknown to us, and,
on our apologising, said, pleasantly: "I am
Miss N——," mentioning a name, not the name
of any friend or acquaintance we had, although
a well-known name. The dream was unusually
vivid, and we awoke. On the very next evening,
we recognised (with a strange feeling)
coming in at the open door of our room, the
lady of the dream, in the bright red wrapper.
More extraordinary still, the lady was presented
by the friend who accompanied her, as Miss
N——, the name in the dream. No circumstance
near or remote, that we could ever trace,
in the least accounted for this. The lady came
on the real common-place visit, in pursuance of
an appointment quite unexpectedly made with
the lady who introduced her, only on the night
of the dream. From the latter, we had no
previous knowledge of her name, nor of her
existence.]

On the 27th of June will be published
VOLUME THE SEVENTEENTH

END OF THE SEVENTEENTH VOLUME.