FOURTH EVENING.
"The circumstance I am going to mention," said Sir Charles L., "will appear very insignificant after these interesting narratives, but as it happened very lately, you'll perhaps think it worth hearing.
"I was living a few months ago in an hotel, the owner of which died while I was there. He had an apoplectic seizure, and expired shortly afterwards. A week before this happened, at a time he was supposed to be in perfect health, an acquaintance of the family called, and without giving any reason, requested his daughter not to attend a ball she was engaged to go to. The young lady did not take her advice; but the visitor confided to another person that she had a particular reason for her request, which reason was as follows:—
"The night before she called, she and her husband had retired to bed in a somewhat anxious state of mind respecting a near relative of theirs, who was very ill, and whom they had been visiting. The husband, however, soon fell asleep, but the wife lay thinking of the sick person, and the consequences that would ensue if she died, when her reflections were interrupted by seeing a bright spot of light suddenly appear upon the wall—that is, upon the wainscoat of her room. She looked about to see whence it proceeded; there was no light burning, nor could any be reflected from the window; as she looked it increased in size, till, at last, it was as large as the frame of a picture; then there began to appear in the frame a form, gradually developed, till there was a perfect head and face, hair and all, distinctly visible.
"Whilst this development was proceeding, she lay, as it were, transfixed; she wanted to wake her husband, but she could neither speak nor move; at length she seemed to burst the bonds, and cried to him to look, but as she spoke, the vision faded, and by the time he was sufficiently aroused there was nothing to be seen.
"Both he and she interpreted this occurrence into a bad omen for their sick relative, and augured very ill of her case; but the next morning, as she was standing in her shop, she saw the hotel keeper pass to market, and he nodded to her, whereupon she turned to her husband, and exclaimed—'That's the face I saw last night! Sure nothing can be going to happen to him!'
"I heard these circumstances from my servant; and the unexpected seizure and death occurred within a few days."
"When I was at Weimar, about two years ago," said Mademoiselle G., "an accident occurred that occupied the attention of the whole place, and which seems to belong to the same class of phenomena as the story just related. The palace, called the Château, in Weimar, is at one end of the park, and at the other end is another château, called the Belvedere; both are ducal residences, and an avenue runs from the one palace to the other. Opposite this avenue is the Russian chapel or Greek church—the present Dowager Duchess being a sister of the Emperor Nicholas—and in front of this chapel a sentinel is always posted.
"The Grand Duke, Charles Frederick, father of the present sovereign, was, at the period I allude to, residing at the Belvedere not well in health, but by no means alarmingly ill, for had that been the case he would have been brought into Weimar, where etiquette requires that the sovereign should make his first and last appearance in this world—there he must be born, and there die, if possible.
"One night the sentinel, who was standing at the entrance of the Russian chapel, was surprised to see, in the far distance, a long procession winding its way down the avenue from the Belvedere. As there was no stir in the town, for the night was far advanced, and as he had not heard of any solemnity in preparation, the man stared at it in mute wonder, but his amazement was redoubled when it approached near enough for him to distinguish the individual objects to perceive that it was a State funeral, accompanied by the royal mourners, and all the pomp usual at these ceremonies; the velvet pall bore the initials and arms of the duke, and following the bier was his favourite and well known horse, led by one of his attendants. Slowly and mournfully the procession moved on till it reached the chapel; the doors opened to admit the cortege; it passed in; and as the doors closed on this mysterious vision the soldier fell to the ground, where he was found in a state of insensibility when the guard was relieved.