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ritable, only the neighbours say that he's not just what he ought to be, and the servants hear strange noises at night through the rooms." Pooh!" said I, "is that all? any noise is better than being out under the rain." "May be you'd be of a different opinion before morning," muttered the ferryman, as I turned my horse's head in the direction he pointed out.

The house to which I came to beg a night's lodging, was one well suited, at least in external appearance, to the character I had heard of it-a broken gate admitted me with ease to what had once been an avenue, but was now overgrown with grass and weeds-the mansion itself appeared rapidly tumbling into decay, but I had no time to make particular observations or my courage might perhaps have failed me, for I was anxious to get shelter from the storm, which was now beating with increased violence. The knocker was broken off from the hall door, and I was obliged to knock with the handle of my riding whip. The door in a few minutes was opened by an old woman, who, holding it in her hand, asked my business. I told her I was a benighted traveller seeing a night's lodging. She had not time to make a reply, for the master of the house having overheard our conversation, came to the door, and politely welcoming me, called a servant-man to take my horse, and giving directions that he should be well fed and attended to, conducted me into the room where he had been sitting. "It is not often that I have the pleasure of seeing any one here," said he, when I was excusing my intrusion, "and I rejoice at the fortunate circumstance which allows me your society." I thought of the ferryman's words, and began to feel a little queer, the apartment we were in was large, and wainscotted up to the ceiling, the windows were hung round with old-fashioned tapestry, but the want of shutters gave the room a cold - and dismal appearance-in each corner there was a table covered with globes and balls of various sizes and colours, and instruments which I then imagined to be mathematical-the furniture was all of oak; he drew a table towards the hearth, placed a chair for me, and piling two or three fresh faggots on the fire, ordered a servant to bring in supper, and a bottle of wine. In a short

time I forgot, in the excellence of his wine, and the agreeable nature of his conversation, the strange character I had heard of him, and so pleased was I with my companion, who appeared possessed of almost boundless information, and great conversational talents, that I parted from him with regret, when he intimated to me that it was time for me to seek repose after the fatigues of the day.

The apartment in which my bed was prepared was in perfect keeping with the one in which we had been sitting. It was comfortless and gloomy-there was a large fire in the grate-the rain was pattering against the windows, and the melancholy whistle of the wind through the ill-joined crevices of the casement, was dismal in the extreme : my heart sunk within me as the receding steps of my host died away upon the lobby, and I looked on the large and curtainless bed in which I was to sleep. I had remarked before we left the parlour that there were two mirrors exactly opposite to each other; but immediately on my entrance he had drawn a curtain over one. In this room there was a mirror exactly corresponding to the one below stairs, and precisely opposite, a curtain concealed what I supposed to be another mirror. I could easily have ascertained by raising up the curtain, but I had an undefined dread upon my mind, which prevented me from doing this. I felt a strange and unaccountable awe upon my spirits which every thing around me served to deepen. I went to bed and I fell asleep, and I dreamed of the curtain: I thought I saw it slowly rise up, and behind it there was a large and wide hall, and gloomy lamps all round were sending up a glimmering and smoky flame, and it was full of skeletons that moved about like living things; some were leaning against the pillars, and their fleshless arms were folded across --and others were walking slowly up and down, but in a distant part of the hall; there was a party of them dancing, and they were moving about with their long, lank bones, and their ribs and joints were rattling together; I thought that they were keeping time to the jingling of their bones; at last they spied me, and a very large skeleton, who seemed the commander of the party, stretched out his great arm bone as if pointing at me, and the whole

set danced down towards me, and as they came down the hall cutting the most fantastic capers, all the others joined, and the clattering of their bones upon the pavement, and the rattle that they made as they jostled each other, was the most terrific thing I could have conceived, until they got almost within reach of me, and then they set up the wildest and most hideous laugh, and its echo pealed fearfully along the vaulted roof of the hall. I screamed with terror; and, awaking, found myself fairly tumbled out of bed, and lying at full length upon the floor.

I must have been some time asleep, for the fire which was burning pretty high when I went to bed, was nearly extinguished. Its dim light, however, showed every object in the room-the curtain was still hanging down in its former place, and the mirror opposite was quietly reflecting the red glare of the dying fire. I threw some faggots, of whichmy host's servant had left me a very plentiful store, upon the grate. In a few minutes there was a bright and cheering blaze. I stood at the fire half afraid to return to bed, least I should again encounter my ghostly dancers, and one such ball, even in a dream, was quite enough. I employed myself in considering the theory of dreams, and had very satisfactorily decided that the whole cause of this mysterious apparition was to be found in the words of the ferryman, and my own curiosity about the purposes of the mirrors. This last I was resolved should not long remain unsatisfied, and I boldly walked up to the curtain determined to look behind, even if it concealed the hall of skeletons itself. Twice I stretched out my trembling hand, and twice my resolution failed me. I cast a fearful glance at the opposite glass-for a moment I was startled at a tall, white figure; but I soon discovered it was the reflection of my own person, I laughed at my folly-and summoning up all my nerve drew up the mysterious curtain. There was behind it a plain mirror, and nothing greeted me but the mere apparition of my own form. I felt myself half disappointed; I made a low bow to my own shadow, and wished the ghost good night; he, of course, politely returned it; I cast one towards the opposite wall-and can I believe the evidence of my senses, or was it but an imagination

heated by the terror of my dream, in the other mirror I saw plainly, and as large as life, the figure of Eliza; she was in graveclothes, and her features wore the pallid hue of death. I felt my hair to stand on end-I could not turn my eyes from the spectre; her eyes were open, and she was staring at me with her glazed and motionless balls-in her hand was the magical volume which she had been reading on the morning we parted; I shrunk involuntarily back-I accidentally struck the curtain behind me, and it fell-immediately the apparition vanished, and every thing was still and quiet as before. I know not how I passed the hours until break of day; I could not have slept ; I threw up the window, and even the beating of the rain upon my fevered temples afforded me relief; I dare not raise the curtain again; I thought at times I heard the noise of struggling along the stairs and lobbies, and then a scream, and then peals of laughter, just such as I had heard in my dream; but all I can be certain of is, that scarcely had the gray light of the morning streaked the eastern sky when I left the house; the servant was up-he gave me my horse without asking any questions, and I did not feel myself quite safe until I was seated in the ferryboat, with the pure breeze of ocean fanning me with its refreshing coolness.

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All that I discovered of Eliza may summed in a few words. Not many weeks afterwards I was walking in the island of Cove, and as I passed the lonely grave-yard at Ballintemple, my attention was attracted by a little marble slab at the head of a new made tomb; I read the inscription-it was "Eliza-. obiit Aug. 16, 17-;" it was the very day upon which her spectre had so mysteriously appeared to me. There repose her mortal remains-but why that remote spot should be the restingplace of her dust, I know not; she is now, probably, forgotten by all, and not even her grave, to a common observer, is distinguished from the tombs around. Whatever was the darkness of her mysterious destiny, I never could discover it. I had afterwards reason to believe, that the person to whom she was originally betrothed was my host upon the night, I was witness to the scenes, which, be they fancies or realities, I have attempted

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By pebbled brooks, and in the leafy dells,
Where the wild thyme perfumes the passing breeze,
There he consults her sacred oracles,

And hears reveal'd her hidden harmonies.

Amid the woods of mingled plane and pine,
Lull'd by the murmurs of a bubbling rill,
Faney, enchanted, weaves her dreams divine,
Conscious of joy, and strange to fears of ill.

There be it mine to revel and to dwell,
Won by the wooing of the turtle dove,
To tune the golden chords of Hermes' shell
To plaintive tones of melody and love.

ON EARLY ENGLISH HISTORY.

History, which has been called "anticipated experience," and which may give an account either of the transactions of ages long past, or of events which have occurred in our own times, has been always deemed one of the most interesting pursuits of intelligent men. It may be treated of in various ways, and there is no subject which affords more scope for laborious research and for ingenious disquisition. When we peruse the history of any country or of any period, we not only have a right, but it is our duty-to enquire what authority the writer had for the facts which he relates; and if we do so, we shall sometimes find that the narrative of the professed historian rests upon as slight grounds as the tale of the poet or of the writer of romance; and that we can place no more dependance on its truth. Some times the compiler, and the greater number of historical writings extant are compilations, endeavours to make his work interesting by the embellishments of his fancy; sometimes he is misled by the prejudices or interested misrepresentations of the original writers, which cannot be disproved, though they may be suspected from the loss of the records of the other party, or from their inability to tell their story-as suggested in the well known fable of the man and the lion; and when variety of evidence can be produced, and an impartial judge endeavours to ascertain the truth, so contradictory is this evidence often found, like that occasionally produced in a court of justice, that after a long and patient investigation he is unable to make a decision satisfactory to himself or to others. Sometimes a favourite theory evidently biasses the judgment of the writer; and sometimes, in the dearth of matter, he indulges in specious reasoning, instead of honestly confessing his ignorance. Yet far are we from intending to censure the labours of the historical compiler, or to represent them as useless. On the contrary, we do not know a more interesting employment, (we speak of employments of a mere literary kind, and except, of

course the study of the Divine Word,) than endeavouring to separate truth from error in historical narrative, wherever materials are attainable; and we most readily bear testimony to the great improvements made by modern compilers; though I think the field is yet open for future investigators in the history of almost every period. Nay, we can read with pleasure avowed fictions in which antiquarian research has enabled the author to give a lively and probable representation of the manners of any age or country, to delineate the character of well known personages, and to render a tale interesting, without introducing circumstances inconsistent with well-authenticated transactions. Such tales serve to render us familiar with men and circumstances, and often draw us on to examine the periods of which they treat with more attention. But to proceed to our immediate object, we purpose to offer some remarks on the early part of English history and the writers of it; remarks which may properly be called desultory, because we shall not consider ourselves bound to proceed according to any fixed plan, or to notice every circumstance of importance; but selecting whatever strikes us, we shall endeavour to show the nature of the evidence, and the differences subsisting amongst the principal modern compilers. We shall hope thus to supply materials for discussion, and to elicit from correspondents some remarks which may serve to clear the mist in which that part of our history is now involved.

The early history of Britain-i. e. of the time previous to the invasion of Julius Cæsar, is generally omitted by the modern compiler. Brutus the Trojan, (the contemporary of Eli, the judge of Israel) and Lear, with his three daughters, rendered familiar to us by the drama of Shakspeare, with the many other princes who filled up the long period from Brutus to Cassibela, are now consigned, so far as history is concerned, to deserved oblivion. That Matthew Paris, Matthew of Westminster, and other old compilers of some

note inserted this romance in their histories; and that even the master mind of Milton did not reject it, is not deemed sufficient to give it countenance, for traced to its origin it rests on the unsupported testimony of Rennius, a British monk of Bangor, in the seventh or ninth century, enlarged upon by Geoffrey of Monmouth, who lived in the twelfth century, and whose "fertile imagination," to use an expression of Dr. Henry's respecting him, is well-known to have led to many fictions. Having rejected the tale of Brutus and his followers, and having few facts to record, some modern writers have filled their pages with speculations on the origin of the Britons, The reasoning of Sheran Turner on this subject is ingenious if not conclusive, and it is in part, at least, supported by the researches of the late Dr. Murray. Neither does Lingard differ materially from it, though he mentions only the Celts or Kelts, generally, whilst Turner traces the Kimmerians and Keltoi from the earliest settle ments and distinguishes between them as different branches of the same horde or family, descended from Gomer, son of Japhet. The Belgæ seem also to have belonged to the same stock. The identity of the Kimmerii, Kimbri and Cymri is, we think, if not satisfactorily established, at least rendered highly probable by Turner. Yet, Dr. Wood, in his Inquiry into the primitive inhabitants of Ireland," says that the Celts and Germans are absurdly called Cimbri, from a small Gothic tribe which took its name from Cimber, signifying in the Gothic language, a robber, thus reversing the process of Turner, who derives the signification robber, from the depredators of the Kimbri. In another passage, after mentioning that the Kimbri are spoken of by Cæsar, as Germans, Dr. Wood argues that the Britons could not have been descended from them or their language would have been Gothic; but Turner supposes that Germany was successively peopled by the Kimmerians, the Scythians or Goths, and the Sarmatians; and the Kimbri would seem to have been driven from Germany by the Gothic tribes, which led to their invasion of Gaul and Italy. "But," says Dr. Wood, alluding probably to Turner as well as to Pinkerton, accordingly some late authors venture

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to affirm that the first inhabitants of Britain were Kimmerians, when they denominate Kimbri and confound with the Celta. It is, however, doubtful that the Kimmerians were either Kimbri or descendants of them, and certain that the Kimbri were not Celts; a nation solely and properly Gauls. The assertion relative to the origin of the Britons is not even a plausible conjecture." Such is the manner in which the extensive and ingenious researches of Turner are treated by a contemporary writer, who, though a respect able man, is far his inferior in learning and research, and who repeats soon after, that the Cimbri, not only were a Gothic people but used the Gothic dialect." Pinkerton's opinion is nearly the same as Turner's, and Dr. Murray in his history of the European languages, considers the Celta and Cymri of the same family, though he does not seem to consider them as the same with the Cimmerians. We may now leave the subject sub judice, observing that such speculations may serve to exercise ingenuity, but cannot be considered as capable of certainty, and should therefore never be made the subject of dogmatical assertion.

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The names of the British tribes, as well as the community of religion, sufficiently prove that they were of Celtic origin. The accounts given of the Druids do not materially differ, but some attribute their origin to the Gauls, others to the Britons, whilst others state that they existed amongst the Celtæ in the east, and were, therefore, antecedent to both. It is, however, in opposition to this last, that we do not find any distinct mention of them in other tribes of Celtic origin, as in Spain or Italy. Cæsar represents the Britons as more skilled in the discip line of the Druids, and as instructors of the Gauls; but this does not necessarily imply that they were the authors of it. Our most satisfactory accounts of them are drawn from Cæsar and Tacitus: some few circumstances, however, have been incidentally mentioned by other ancient writers, and Dr. Henry has, probably, collected every thing that deserves notice; perhaps much more than can be substantiated. It is rather an extraordinary circumstance that many of the Monkish historians have passed over the Druids without any notice whatsoever.

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