shut out the light on that side, and turned again to sleep. Whether she had or had not quite lost consciousness she could not well remember, but she was soon thoroughly aroused by feeling the bed heave under her. She started up, and awaited with a beating heart a repetition of the movement, but it did not come. It must have been a return of the nervous fancies which had twice assailed her already that night. Laying her head again on the pillow she determined to control her groundless terrors.

Again she started up! This time there could be nc doubt; the bed had heaved more than once, accompanied by a strange gurgling sound as if of a creature in pain. Leaning on her elbow, she listened with that intensity of fear which desires almost as much as it dreads a recurrence of the sound that caused it. It came again, followed by a loud rustling noise as if some heavy body were dragged from under the bed in the direction of the fire. What could it be? She longed to call out for help, but her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and the pulses in her temples throbbed until she felt as if their painful beating sounded in the silence of the night like the loud tick of a clock.

The unseen thing dragged itself along until it reached the hearthrug, where it flung itself down with violence. As it did so she heard the clank of a chain. Her breath came less painfully as she heard it, for it occurred to her that the creature might be nothing worse than the house dog, who, having broken his chain, had sought shelter beneath the bed in the warm room. Even this notion was disagreeable enough, but it was as nothing to the vague terror which had hitherto oppressed her. She persuaded herself that if she lay quite quiet no harm would happen to her, and the night would soon pass over. Thus reasoning, she laid herself down again.

By-and-by the creature began to snore, and it struck her feverish fancy that the snoring was not like that of a dog. After a little time, she raised herself gently, and with trembling hands drew back an inch or two of the curtain and peered out, thinking that any certainty was better than such terrible suspense. She looked towards the fire-place, and there, sure enough, the huge creature lay; a brown hairy mass, but of what shape it was impossible to divine, so fitful was the light, and so strangely was it coiled up on the hearthrug. By and by, it began to stretch itself out, to open its eyes which shone in the flickering ray of the fire, and to raise its paws above its hairy head.

Good God! those are not paws! They are human hands; and dangling from the wrists hang fragments of broken chains!

A chill of horror froze Ellen Stirling's veins as a flash of the expiring fire showed her this clearly-far too clearly-and the conviction seized upon her mind that she was shut up with an escaped convict. An inward invocation to Hea ven for aid, rose from her heart, as with the whole force of her intellect, she endeavoured to survey the danger of her position, and to think of the most persuasive words she could use to the man into whose power she had so strangely fallen. For the present, however, she must be still, very still; she must make no movement to

betray herself; and perhaps he might overlook her presence until daylight came, and with it, possible help. The night must be far spent; she must wait, and hope.

She had not to wait long. The creature moved again-stood upright-staggered towards the bed. For one moment-one dreadful moment-she saw his face, his pale pinched features. his flashing eyes, his black bristling hair; but, thank God! he did not see her. She shrunk behind the curtains; he advanced to the bed, slowly, hesitatingly, and the clanking sound of the broken chains fell menacingly on her ear. He laid his hand upon the curtains, and, for a few moments fumbled to find the pening. These moments were all in all to Ellen Stirling. Despair sharpened her senses: she found that the other side of the bed was not set so close against the wall but that she could pass between. Into the narrow space between, she contrived to slip noiselessly.

(

She had hardly accomplished the difficult feat, and sheltered herself behind the curtains, when the creature flung itself on the bed, and drawing the bedclothes round him, uttered a sound more like the whinnying of a horse than the laugh of a human being.

For some little time Miss Stirling stood in her narrow hiding-place, trembling with cold and terror, fearful lest some unguarded movement should betray her, and bring down on her a fate she dared not contemplate. She lifted up her heart in prayer for courage; and when her composure had in some degree returned, it occurred to her that if she could but reach the window, she might from that position, possibly attract the attention of some passers-by, and be released from her terribly durance.

Very cautiously she attempted the perilous experiment; her bare feet moved noiselessly across the floor, and a friendly ray of moonlight guided her safely towards the window. As she put out her hand towards the curtains, her heart gave a fresh bound of terror, for it came in contact with something soft and warm. At length, however, she remembered that she had flung down her fur cloak in that spot, and it was a mercy to come upon it now, when she was chilled to the bone. She wrapped it round her and reached the window without further adventure, or any alarm from the occupant of the bed: whose heavy regular breathing gave assurance that he was now sound asleep. This was some comfort, and she greatly needed it. The look-out from the window was anything but inspiriting. The stars still shone peacefully on the sleeping earth; the moon still showed her pallid visage; not a sight or sound presaged dawn; and after long listening in vain for any sign of life in the outer world, she heard the stable clock strike four.

Only four!

She felt as if it were impossible to survive even another hour of terror such as she had just passed through. Was there no hope? None.

She tried to support herself against the windowframe, but her first touch caused it to shake and creak in a manner that seemed to her startlingly loud; she fancied that the creature moved uneasily on its bed at the sound. Drops of agony fell from her brow; as minute after minute wore

heavily on; ever and anon a rustle of the bedclothes, or a slight clank of the manacled hands, sent a renewed chill to her heart. The clock struck five.

Still all without was. silent. Suddenly a man's whistle was heard in the court, and the driver of the mail-coach, lantern in hand, crossed the yard towards the pavilion. Would to God she could call to him, or in any way attract his attention! but she dared not make the slightest sound. He looked up at the window, against which he almost brushed in passing; and the light he held, flashed on Miss Stirling's crouching figure. He paused, looked again, and seemed about to speak, when she hastily made signs that he should be silent, but seek assistance at the house. He gave her a glance of intelligence, and hastened away.

How long his absence seemed! Could he have understood her? The occupant of the bed was growing every instant more and more restless; he was rising from the bed-he was groping round the room. They would come too late, too late! But no! steps in the courtyard-the key turning in the lock-the door opens-then with a yell that rang in Ellen Stirling's ear until her dying day, the creature rushed to her hidingplace, dashed the slight window-frame to pieces, and finding himself baulked of his purposed escape by the strength of the iron bars outside, turned, like a wild beast, on his pursuers. She was the first on whom his giance fell. He clasped her throat; his face was close to hers; his glittering eyes were glaring at her in frenzy; when a blow from behind felled him.

She awoke from a long swoon to find herself safe in Mrs. Atherton's dressing room, and to hear that no one was hurt but the poor maniac, and that he was again in the charge of his keepers, from whom he had escaped a few hours be

I HAVE a story to tell which my readers may believe if they like, or bring a battery of scientific explanation to bear upon, if they like. I can offer no impartial opinion on the subject, being the party interested.

I only undertake to tell the story as it happened to me.

I was born in one of the midland counties in England, miles away from the sea, in a large, oldfashioned house of black and white, the upper story of which overhung the lower, and the door of which stood back in a deep porch. The joists and floors were of ine oak and all the tables, benches, presses-indeed all the furniture was of oak: some of it rude and clumsy, but the greater part beautifully carved.

My first notions of Bible History were taken

from my mother's bedstead, which was entirely of oak, and carved all over with figures of angels, Adam and Eve, the serpent, and the Virgin and Child.

It

The house was called the Old Hall, although it had become little better than a farm-house. stood at some distance from the road; a gate on the road side led up a paved way with a row of sheds filled with carts, ploughs, and farming im plements, on the one hand, and a large cattle pond on the other, into a spacious farm-yard built round with stables, barns, and outbuildings, all weariug an old Saxon stamp that I have never seen elsewhere. A wicket gate on the side of the yard opened into a large garden which fronted the house. This garden had several broad gravel walks, and two allies covered with turf, and hedg. ed with yew trees cut in all manner of quaint devices. Beyond the garden was an orchard containing amongst other trees, some old mulberry trees, which my sister and myself were taught to regard with great reverence.

Beyond this orchard lay ploughed fields and meadows all belonging to my father. No other dwelling was in sight, except a few cottages belonging to the farm servants.

My father and mother were cousins, and both were descended from the same old Saxon family, who had possessed their land long before the Conquest. In the course of years the property had dwindled down to the farm on which I was born. We had no relations. There certainly was an uncle, a merchant in Liverpool, of whom I sometimes heard; but he was an offshoot of a distant branch, and, being in trade, was considered to have forfeited all claim to be considered one of the family.

All

I was the only son. I had one sister two years younger than myself-a gentle, pretty child, with long golden locks. She was called Edith. the education I received, was two years at the grammar school-a curious old endowment, held by a clerk in orders," to teach Latin and scholarship to all the boys in the parish of Ledgeley L.ver. There were about a dozen besides myself; and unless the master had been endowed with the common sense to teach us writing and arithI don't think we should have had no more learnmetic, and a few common branches of education, ing than Tom Thumb carried in money from King Arthur's treasury which, as everybody knows, was a silver threepence. My companions were sons of small farmers, and came at intervals when they were not wanted at home.

My sister Edith never went to school at all; she stayed at home with my mother and was taught to be notable. As we continually heard that we were all that remained of the oldest family in the country, we learned to attach a mysterious importance to ourselves.

So we grew up, and did not find our lives dull, although my sister never left the house, except sometimes to go to church. When I my. self was sixteen, I had never been as far as Drayton Ledgeley, though it was only twelve miles from Ledgeley Laver, which was our market town. In those days people did not go travelling and rambling about as they do now.

I might be about fifteen, when one day my father brought home from market a book of voy

ages and travels, as a present for me. I had done some farm work in a way that pleased him. It was the first new book out of a shop I had ever possessed; and I read it aloud at night, whilst my father smoked in the chimney corner and my mother and sister were busy knitting and spinning. That book made a great impression upon me, and set my mind thinking of foreign parts, and might have someting to do with what I am about to relate; mind, I do not assert that it had! I am cautious how I assert anything but what I know to be a fact.

The night on which I finished reading that book, was the thirty-first of January; the date is remembered by others as well as myself.

That night I went to bed as usual, and dreamed a long constructive dream, such as I never dreamed before or since. I dreamed that my uncle at Liverpool sent for me to go on a long voyage, on some business of his; and then I found myself standing on a quay, where there seemed hundreds of ships, and all their thin upright masts standing like a forest of poplar trees in winter. I knew they were ships, though I had never seen one. I heard somebody say "this is Liverpool." I do not recollect anything about my uncle, nor the business I was going about. I had to go across several vessels, into one that lay outside the dock; sailors were going about in all directions, and there was a great deal of contusion. A large gilded figure-head of a woman was at one end of the vessel, and "Phoebe Sutliffe" was written under it; I thought it was the likeness of Phoebe Sutliffe. I had never seen the sea nor a ship before, but I did not feel at all surprised at anything. I looked out on the green waves that were rippling against the side of the vessel; and as far out as I could see, there was nothing but water. I thought it all looked quite right and natural, and the sun was shining quite bright upon some little boats with white sails. As the ship began to move, a voice called, loud and clear, for us to stop, and a young man with a portmanteau of a curious shape came scrambling up the side of our vessel out of a little boat; he came up close to where I was standing. He was a very handsome young man with a moustache, and he wore a foreign cap.

We began to talk, but I could never in the least recollect what we said. Suddenly, a great storm arose, and everything was dark as pitch. I heard the wind howl fearfully; but did not feel any tossing of the waves, as might have been expected. At last, there came a dreadful crash; another vessel had struck against us, and we were borne under the keel of it. I found myself in the water. The young man was close beside me; he pushed a hen-coop to me; and we floated, quite pleasantly and easily, towards some rocks, which lay around a beautiful green island, where the sun was shining. The rocks, when we came among them, were like the ruins of a hundred old castles.

These are the Rocks of Searlet, in the Isle of Man," said my companion; "I live here, and yonder is my father's house."

When we had clambered up the rocks, and had reached the greensward, I thought I was unable to move a step further. A white house, with green outside shutters and surrounded by a low

wall, stood close at hand: but I could not stir, and lay down on the ground fainting, though I knew all that was going on. My companion shouted, and some men came up; he sent them to the white house. In another minute, I saw a beautiful young woman clothed in white, with long black curls, standing beside us. With her was an old man.

"How did you come here?" said the old man. "We were struck by another vessel, and swam to shore: but this youth is dying. Give him a cordial." The young lady stooped over me, raised my head, and was extending her hand for a drinking horn, when the cliff we were upon, began to quake, and fell with a dreadful crash into the sea beneath.

The crash awoke me. I sprang up in bed, without in the least knowing where I was. The noise I had heard in my dream stil. continued. My father burst into my room, saying, "Come away, boy! Save yourself! The house is falling!" I was completely bewildered. I did not know where I was, nor whether it was a continuation of my dream; but my father dragged me out of bed, and we all took refuge in the kitchen. A terrible storm was raging; every blast seemed as if it would blow the house down. A stack of chimneys fell with a terrific crash, and the kitchen window was at the same moment blown in. My mother and the maid servants knelt down to prayers in a corner, while my father and myself strove to fasten up a strong oak shutter. At length, towards morning, the violence of the gale abated, and we were able to go out, to see what damage had been done. "God help all the poor souls who have been at sea this night!" said my mother, pitifully.

I started. I was one of those for whom my mother was praying. Had I not been to sea? And had I not been wrecked? And was it not all as real as the scene now before me? I was frightened, for I did not know but that I might be under witchcraft, of which I had been told much, and which in that part of the country we all believed in. However, I said nothing, but followed my father out of doors.

A scene of great damage and desolation there presented itself; the roof had been blown front the barn; the ground was covered with bricks, and tiles, and branches of trees; all the leadwork from the roof had been torn off, and hung down, twisted like icicles. The garden was laid waste; and, in the orchard, two of our beloved mulberry trees were uprooted, as well as a fine old elm and several fruit trees.

The wind was still too high to make it safe for us to be abroad; tiles and stones, and branches of trees, were still, from time to time, falling about. The damage done by that storm fearful, and was recollected through the county for many a year afterwards.

was

For weeks we were all too busy repairing the effects of the storm for any one to bestow much attention upon me; but at last my father began to complain that I was good forno hing, and that I went about my work as if I were dazed. My mother agreed that I had never been the same lad since that awful night, and questioned me whether anything had hurt my head.

The fact was, that the whole tenor of my life