Two more stories of disappearance, and I
have done. I will give you the last in date
first, because it is the most melancholy;
and we will wind up cheerfully (after a
fashion).

Some time between 1820 and 1830, there
lived in North Shields a respectable old
woman and her son, who was trying to
struggle into sufficient knowledge of medicine
to go out as ship-surgeon in a Baltic vessel,
and perhaps in this manner to earn money
enough to spend a session in Edinburgh. He
was furthered in all his plans by the late
benevolent Dr. G——- , of that town. I
believe the usual premium was not required
in his case; the young man did many useful
errands and offices which a finer young
gentleman would have considered beneath
him; and he resided with his mother in one
of the alleys (or " chares,") which lead down
from the main street of North Shields to the
river. Dr. G——- had been with a patient
all night, and left her very early on a winter's
morning to return home to bed; but first he
stepped down to his apprentice's home, and
bade him get up, and follow him to his own
house, where some medicine was to be mixed,
and then taken to the lady. Accordingly the
poor lad came, prepared the dose, and set off
with it sometime between five and six on a
winter's morning. He was never seen again.
Dr. G——- waited, thinking he was at his
mother's house; she waited, considering that
he had gone to his day's work. And meanwhile,
as people remembered afterwards, the
small vessel bound to Edinburgh sailed out
of port. The mother expected him back her
whole life long; but some years afterwards
occurred the discoveries of the Hare and
Burke horrors; and people seemed to gain a
dark glimpse at his fate; but I never heard
that it was fully ascertained, or indeed more
than surmised. I ought to add, that all who
knew him, spoke emphatically as to his
steadiness of purpose, and conduct, so as to
render it improbable in the highest degree
that he had run off to sea, or suddenly changed
his plan of life in any way.

My last story is one of a disappearance,
which was accounted for after many years.
There is a considerable street in Manchester
leading from the centre of the town to some
of the suburbs. This street is called at one
part Garratt, and afterwards, where it
emerges into gentility and comparatively
country, Brook Street. It derives its former
name from an old black-and-white hall of the
time of .Richard the Third, or thereabouts, to
judge from the style of building: they have
closed in what is left of the old hall now; but
a few years since this old house was visible
from the main road; it stood low on some
vacant ground, and appeared to be half in
ruins. I believe it was occupied by several
poor families who rented tenements in the
tumble-down dwelling. But formerly it was
Gerard Hall, (what a difference between
Gerard and Garratt!) and was surrounded by
a park with a clear brook running through it,
with pleasant fish-ponds, (the name of these
was preserved until very lately, on a street
near), orchards, dove-cotes, and similar
appurtenances to the manor-houses of former days.
i am almost sure that the family to whom it
Delonged were Mosleys, probably a branch of
the tree of the lord of the Manor of
Manchester. Any topographical work of the
last century relating to their district would
give the name of the last proprietor of the
old stock, and it is to him that my story
refers.

Many years ago there lived in Manchester
two old maiden ladies, of high respectability.
All their lives had been spent in the town,
and they were fond of relating the changes
which had taken place within their
recollection; which extended back to seventy or
eighty years from the present time. They
knew much of its traditionary history from
their father, as well; who, with his father
before him, had been respectable attorneys in
Manchester, during the greater part of the
last century; they were, also, agents for
several of the county-families; who, driven
from their old possessions by the enlargement
of the town, found some compensation in the
increased value of any land which they might
choose to sell. Consequently the Messrs.
S——-, father and son, were conveyancers in
good repute, and acquainted with several
secret pieces of family history; one of which
related to Garratt Hall.

The owner of this estate, some time in the
first half of the last century, married young;
he and his wife had several children, and lived
together in a quiet state of happiness for
many years. At last, business of some kind
took the husband up to London; a week's
journey in those days. He wrote and
announced his arrival; I do not think he ever
wrote again. He seemed to be swallowed up
in the abyss of the Metropolis, for no friend
(and the lady had many and powerful friends)
could ever ascertain for her what had become
of him; the prevalent idea was that he had
been attacked by some of the street-robbers
who prowled about in those days, that he had
resisted, and had been murdered. His wife
gradually gave up all hopes of seeing him
again, and devoted herself to the care of her
children; and so they went on, tranquilly
enough, until the heircame of age, when certain
deeds were necessary before he could legally
take possession of the property. These deeds
Mr. S——- (the family lawyer) stated had
been given up by him into the missing gentleman's
keeping just before the last mysterious
journey to London, with which I think they
were in some way concerned. It was possible
that they were still in existence; some one
in London might have them in possession,
and be either conscious or unconscious of
their importance. At any rate, Mr. S——-' s
advice to his client was that he should put an