my confusion. stance increased business." "Indeed! Pardon my freedom; but had we not better dispatch it without further delay: you will allow me to inquire into the nature of it." "To tell the truth," rejoined I, "I have been thinking, since I saw you last, of the subject which then formed the topic of our discourse." "Excuse me," I said, "I have other "Oh! I remember, it was of the re-appearance of the dead-of ghosts of those subtle intelligences, 'which accommodate themselves to shapes, unite with sounds, present themselves in odours,-deceive the senses and very understanding.' Was it not so? What think you of St. Austine's description? Is not the holy father a strong authority for our side of the question?" "The Fathers of the Church were men, and not infallible ;-but our conversation was of apparitions, you said." "I made an offer to you at the time, which you rejected," continued he. "Is it too late to avail myself of it even now-cannot the error be retrieved?" "On one condition." "Name it." "That, when you have seen what I shall exhibit to you, you will ask no questions concerning my search; I demand this, (he added) more for your sake, than to gratify any disposition of my own. I wish not to suppress information, where the promulgation of it can benefit the world. The power I peculiarly possess, is a curse rather than a blessing." The manner in which these observations were delivered, disposed me to think favourably of the speaker. I felt convinced he was sincere; and, making the required promise, walked with him to the house, in which he informed me he lodged. He led me into a small room plainly, though not elegantly, furnished. A moderate sized bookcase, with shelves well filled with antique looking volumes, was the most prominent of its accommodations. There was nothing ranged for show; no ostentation of science; nothing but what the apartment of a private individual might have contained, without exciting any feeling of surprize. We so commonly associate the idea of darkness, and seasons of solitude and stillness, with that of the visions of the deceased, that I was astonished, when, after we had been seated a short time, my companion inquired of me, if I was prepared to name the person I most wished to see. I communicated my thoughts to him. "All times are alike to me," answered he, " and a spiritual being knows not the distinction of light or darkness. We will, therefore, postpone it: tell me when you wish me to fulfil my promise. Meanwhile we will amuse ourselves by looking over a few of my favourite authors;" and he unlocked, as he spoke, the glass doors of his bookcase. We discussed the merits of the various writers, to whose productions he referred like a scholar and a man of feeling. I was delighted with his remarks, and had almost forgotten the original object of my curiosity, when the deepening tinge of the sun-beams shining through the casement, warned me of the approach of evening. I was ashamed of having so long delayed my request-fearful of the imputation of irresolution, I closed the book I held in my hand, and turned my gaze on my unknown acquaintance: he understood me. "Be it so ;" said he, "name the individual, and he shall appear." I had now arrived at a crisis-and a fearful one I felt it to be. The firmness which I supposed myself to possess, vanished at the approach of the moment which should bring me in contact with a being of another sphere-the one, too, whom of all the world I had most loved and cherished. I felt a fearful oppression of the heart; my limbs were chill and trembling; and the power of speech had almost deserted me. My companion noticed my perturbation, and proposed to defer the experiment; or, if I desired it, to abandon it altogether. I refused to postpone it, and summoning all the energy I could command, I loosed the bonds that enchained my tongue, and pronounced the name of the dead. Oh God! and she sat before me as when on earth-as beautiful, and her eyes shining brightly upon me, with all the gentle fire-the fond affection, that illumined them in her days of youth and early blessedness. I strove in vain to touch her hand,—to feel, if what I saw, was indeed a reality, or but a dream, a vision. She smiled a melancholy smile; her eyes shone, and the lips moved-she spoke. I felt the full force of the spell: I shrieked her name-my eyes closedmy limbs grew nerveless, but my ears still for a moment drank the witching melody of her voice, as I fell senseless, and almost lifeless, to the earth. When I recovered I found myself alone. The stranger had vanished; and I endeavoured in vain to recur to the part he had acted in the scene, which had so strongly affected me. I had some recollection of his having raised his hand to his eyes, and moved his lips, like one absorbed in deep meditation; but of the time or manner of his exit, I could form no conjecture. I left the room, and descended into the garden, by which the house was almost surrounded. The blush of the sky above me, deepening as it neared the skirts of the horizon, to a crimson glow, that conferred on every pale-leafed flower and wandering rivulet, a tinge of its own rich hue; the mellow songs of the lingering birds, and cool, exquisite freshness of the air-all combined to cast a veil of peace and repose over the troubled feelings, with which I was agitated. I leaned against a lime-tree, and looked upon the scene before me. My thoughts were of other and happier days-sad, but not bitter;one image had been painfully recalled to my memory, and a thousand fond associations accompanied it. I was startled from my reverie by the sound of an approaching footstep: it was a servant of the house, who delivered me a letter, which was as follows : "I have performed my undertaking; do you remember the obligation of my promise. It is next to impossible we should ever meet again; if we do, remember you are to make no inquiries-speak not of what has transpired-forget it, if possible, and be happy." This laconic address perplexed and dissatisfied me; I made minute inquiries after the stranger, but could obtain no information as to his name, occupation, or residence. The people with whom he lodged either knew, or could reveal nothing. He came occasionally, they said, for a month, and then departed. His books and furniture remained there, but they seldom saw him for more than a third part of the year. Mystery completely enveloped him and his pursuits, a mystery which is even yet unravelled, for I have neither seen nor heard tidings of him from that day to this. I left Mantua the day but one after the occurrence of the extraordinary incident, and returned to England. STANZAS FOR MUSIC. MILD is the air of the summer night; Where rests our boat in the clear moonlight, We have bound young Love in a silken band, Invites thee, maid, to a beauteous land, And to beauty's carnival. Mild is the air, &c. There the lamps are hung from the mirror'd dome, And how'rs are there like love's own bright home, There the halls are throng'd with Sicilian maids, Who whisp'ring rove through delightful shades, Mild is the air, &c. The stars are out on the gala sky, The white clouds are bathed in light; The loveliest things to the heart and eye O lady, haste, and thy lover bless, "Tis the hour when lovers meet, When maidens speak what their eyes confess, O lady, haste, disappointment steals, The soul of bliss, pain the soonest feels→ I hear thy voice, and its low, soft sound I hear thy step on the silent ground- Kind swells the breeze of the summer night, And swift we glide in the clear moonlight O'er the softly murm'ring sea. NOBODIES. EVERY body knows the kind of personage designated A NOBODY, whose approach is invariably preluded by "it is only so and so." Every body interprets the phrase in the same way, as tacitly permitting him to inflict every kind of rudeness, contempt and neglect, upon the individual to whom it may apply. I, alas! was for many years A NOBODY, and one of the most unfortunate of my many brethren;-one of the most cruelly persecuted of that numerous tribe, whose history, however modified by circumstances, is still essentially the same: for, whether as younger brothers,-halfpay infantry officers,-domestic chaplains,-private tutors,-humble friends,-decayed gentry,-bankrupt merchants, and other professions too numerous to mention,- -one family likeness pervades the group. Our office, character, nay very appearance are so similar, that to narrate the sufferings of one, is, in essential points, to narrate the sufferings of all. "A NOBODY" then is known by the meek, subdued, ever smiling visage, which has poverty and gentility stamped on every feature. It is he who speaks under his breath, and fears to offend servants; who never even in an inn has the privilege of swearing at waiters, or playing the "Stout Gentleman." It is he who is sent for at a moment's notice to make up a rubber, or complete a quadrille set ;-he who in parties is expected to form a "third estate" between the footmen and the company;-who is to praise every thing, and assist every one to refreshments, without being pressed to "take care of himself;"-who beholds the beauties afar off, and is considered the stock property of ladies too old, or too young, or too ugly, to be desirable partners for " any other man.' He it is who picks up fans and receives no thanks ;-who fetches a belle's shawl, and is not privileged to throw it over her shoulders;—who utters sweet nothings to "desperate thirty six," and even then is frowned upon;-who migrates from the ball to the cardtable, from the card-table to the supper-room, handing, and helping, serving and sympathizing, till ready to faint; and at last, hears all his partners commiserated for having received attention from " Nobody, only so and so!" Alas! alas!-how many times during my existence as A NOBODY" did I wish that somebody would shoot me; I was too subdued to think of doing it for myself. Again, it is the NOBODY who is corner man at dinner tables, or else, stated carver of the delicacy for which every one is sure to apply. It is he who is expected to "prefer" port to claret, and sherry to champagne; and whose bumpers may even then show daylight without exciting opposition. His are the questions which no one answers, and his the answers that no one hears; his assertions that every one contradicts, and his opinions that every one despises ! 66 Amongst the men with whom we may domesticate our lives are purgatorial-what, then, are they amongst the women?-Who, wherever he sojourns is requested to romp with the children, and take the poor things" to panoramas and wild beast shows? Who drives the young lady to make morning calls, and is left in the gig to solace himself with a newspaper whilst she stays; or who, on a shopping expe 66 dition, is made carrier general of parcels and parasols? Whose province is it to "take hints," forage for news, write notes, carry messages, step here, call in there, remember this, have an eye to that, and be in short the family fag? Who has to sleep in the room next the nursery," and " 'put up with a hard bed," and " excuse the makeshift 66 dinner," and fall heir to the first of the tea, and the last of the wine?— Who, but the miserable wight, who in addition to his other name and profession, is considered right and left-A NOBODY! Whom do children (those true respecters of persons) plague with impunity ?-and juvenile bucks quiz?-and “ young ladies from boarding school" turn up the nose at? Who Comes when he's called, Does as he's bid, Shuts the door after him, and yet contrary to the code of nursery morality-after all "is chid ?" He, who is, what I was for many and long years,—A NOBODY!" 66 Alas-and there are female NOBODIES! in the shape of maiden aunts, poor cousins, orphan nieces, under governesses, companions to old ladies, or worse still-companions to young ones! Their miseriesI dare not be minute; I dare not detail the irritating, ever recurring annoyances which befal the female portion of that class, whose favour no one seeks, whose ire no one dreads, whose feelings no one regards, whose company no one covets, whose services whilst exacted are never acknowledged; and whose very virtues are despised, as the supposed result of poverty and personal insignificance! Women, however fortunately circumstanced, have to endure more of the petty evils of life than men, and what is wanting in individual security is more than made up by their multiplicity and variety. Like the Lilliputian arrows, they may not kill, but they sorely annoy. What then, I repeat, has a female Nobody to endure? She who is the Nobody of a neighbourhood in the person of a widow or maiden lady, glad to eke out a scanty pittance by paying long visits amongst her acquaintances, and making herself generally useful" in the full sense of that most comprehensive phrase!-Ah me! It makes my heart ache to catalogue their employments, to remember the number of sister Nobodies I have met, thin, pale, utterly subdued beings, generally arrayed in mourning somewhat faded, or in silks that had not grown old with the wearer. Even when I had neither sympathy to spare, nor consequence to impart, my heart always yearned towards these sisters of the corner-who came like shadows-so departed,-to keep the children quiet, or look after the servants, patch sheets, mend carpets, quilt counterpanes, or do any other of the five hundred occupations which come under the manager's denomination of "odd jobs." The office held in the family will of course modify the nature of the occupations, but whether as companion in white muslin," following some "Tilburina in white satin;" or as governess set to play for the whole evening to a quadrille party ;she is nevertheless a Nobody!—going through the drudgery, without the independence of a servant, and equally debarred from the ceremony demanded by a stranger, or the kindness due to a friend. 66 But, to return to myself,-after having endured ten years of nobodyhood, and become subdued to my situation, satisfied with my character |