moved it repeatedly through and through the form of the phantom; but there it continued-indivisible -impalpable-in short, as much a dog as ever, and yet the stick traversing its form in every direction, from the tail to the tip of the nose! Mr. Dhurried on a few steps, and again looked;—there was the dog! Now the reader should be informed that Mr. D- was a remarkably temperate man, and had that evening contented himself with a solitary glass of port by the bedside of his sick brother; so that there was no room for supposing his perceptions to have been disturbed with liquor.

"What can it be?" thought he, while his heart knocked rather harder than usual against the bars of its prison; "oh, it must be an optical delusion— oh, 'tis clearly so! nothing in the world worse! that's all. How odd!"—and he smiled, he thought, very unconcernedly; but another glimpse of the phantom standing by him in blue indistinctness instantly darkened his features with the hue of apprehension. If it really was an optical delusion, it was the most fixed and pertinacious one he ever heard of! The best part of valour is discretion, says Shakspeare; and in all things; so, observing a stage passing by at that moment, to put an end to the matter, Mr. D- -, with a little trepidation in his tone, ordered it to stop: there was just room for one inside; and in stepped Mr. D―, chuckling at the cunning fashion after which he had succeeded in jockeying his strange attendant. Not feeling inclined to talk with the fat woman who sat next him, squeezing him most unmercifully against the side of the coach, nor with the elderly grazier-looking man fronting him, whose large, dirty, top-boots seriously incommoded him, he shut his eyes, that he might pursue his thoughts undisturbed. After about five minutes' riding, he suddenly opened his eyes, and the first thing that met them was the figure of

the blue dog, lying stretched in some unaccountable manner at his feet, half under the seat!

"I-I-hopе THE DOG does not annoy you, sir?" inquired Mr. D— a little flustered, of the man opposite, hoping to discern whether the dog chose to be visible to any one else.

"Sir!" exclaimed the person he addressed, starting from a kind of doze, and staring about in the bottom of the coach.

"Lord, sir!" echoed the woman beside him.

"A DOG, Sir, did you say?" inquired several, in a breath.

"Oh-nothing-nothing, I assure you. 'Tis a little mistake," replied Mr. D- with a faint smile; "I-I thought-in short, I find I've been dreaming; and I'm sure I beg pardon for disturbing you." Every one in the coach laughed except Mr. D- whose eyes continued riveted on the dim blue outline of the dog lying motionless at his feet. He was now certain that he was suffering from an optical illusion of some sort or other, and endeavoured to prevent his thoughts from running into an alarmed channel, by striving to engage his faculties with the philosophy of the thing. He could make nothing out, however; and the Q.E.D. of his thinkings startled him not a little, when it came in the shape of the large blue dog, leaping at his heels out of the coach when he alighted. Arrived at home, he lost sight of the phantom during the time of supper and the family devotions. As soon as he had extinguished his bedroom candle and got into bed, he was nearly leaping out again on feeling a sensation as if a large dog had jumped on that part of the bed where his feet lay. He felt its pressure! He said he was inclined to rise, and make it a subject of special prayer to the Deity. Mrs. D asked

him what was the matter with him? for he became very cold, and shivered a little. He easily quieted her with saying he felt a little chilled; and as soon

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as she was fairly asleep, he got quietly out of bed, and walked up and down the room. Wherever he moved he beheld, by the moonlight through the window, the dim dusky outline of the dog, following wherever he went! Mr. D-- opened the windows, he did not exactly know why, and mounted the dressing-table for that purpose. On looking down before he leaped on the floor, there was the dog waiting for him, squatting composedly on his haunches! There was no standing this any longer, thought Mr. Ddelusion or no delusion; so he ran to the bed, plunged beneath the clothes, and, thoroughly frightened, dropped at length asleep, his head under cover all night! On waking in the morning, he thought it must have been all a dream about the dog, for it had totally disappeared with the daylight. When an hour's glancing in all directions had convinced him that the phantom was really no longer visible, he told the whole to Mrs. D, and made very merry with her fears-for she would have it, it was something supernatural," and, good lady, "Mr. Dmight depend upon it, the thing had its errand!" Four times subsequently to this did Mr. Dthe spectral visitant-in nowise altered either in its manner, form, or colour. It was always late in the evenings when he observed it, and generally when he was alone. He was a man extensively acquainted with physiology; but felt utterly at a loss to what derangement of what part of the animal economy to refer it. So, indeed, was I-for he came to consult me about it. He was with me once during the presence of the phantom. I examined his eyes with a candle, to see whether the interrupted motions of the irides indicated any sudden alteration of the functions of the optic nerve; but the pupils contracted and dilated with perfect regularity. One thing, however, was certain-his stomach had been latterly a little out of order, and everybody knows the intimate connexion between its functions and

see

the nervous system. But why he should see spectra —why they should assume and retain the figure of a dog, and of such an uncanine colour, too-and why it should so pertinaciously attach itself to him, and be seen precisely the same at the various intervals after which it made its appearance-and why he should hear, or imagine he heard, it utter sounds, -all these questions I am as unable to answer as Mr. D- was, or as the reader will be. He may account for it in whatever way his ingenuity may enable him. I have seen and known other cases of spectra, not unlike the one above related; and great alarm and horror have they excited in the breasts of persons blessed with less firmness and good sense than Mr. D displayed.

The Forger..

to

A GROOM, in plain livery, left a card at my house one afternoon during my absence, on which was the name, "MR. GLOUCESTER, No. REGENT-STREET;" and in pencil the words, "Will thank Dr. call this evening." As my red-book was lying on the table at the time, I looked in it, from mere casual curiosity, to see whether the name of "Gloucester" appeared there; but it did not. I concluded, therefore, that my new patient must be a recent_comer. About six o'clock that evening I drove to Regentstreet, sent in my card, and was presently ushered by the man-servant into a spacious apartment, somewhat showily furnished. The mild, retiring sunlight of a July evening was diffused over the room; and ample crimson window-curtains, half-drawn, mitigated the glare of the gilded picture-frames which hung in great numbers round the walls. There was a large round table in the middle of the room covered with papers, magazines, books, cards, &c.; and, in a word, the whole aspect of things indicated the residence of a person of some fashion and fortune. On

a side-table lay several pairs of boxing-gloves, foils, &c. &c. The object of my visit, Mr. Gloucester, was seated on an elegant ottoman, in a pensive posture, with his head leaning on his hand, which rested on the table. He was engaged with the newspaper when I was announced. He rose as I entered, politely handed me to a chair, and then resumed his seat on the ottoman. His countenance was rather pleasing-fresh-coloured, with regular features, and very light auburn hair, which was adjusted with a sort of careless fashionable negligence. I may perhaps be laughed at by some for noticing such an apparently insignificant circumstance; but the observant humour of my profession must sufficiently account for my detecting the fact, that his hands were not those of a born and bred gentleman-of one who, as the phrase is, "has never done any thing" in his life; they were coarse, large, and clumsy-looking. As for his demeanour, also, there was a constrained and over-anxious display of politeness-an assumption of fashionable ease and indifference that sat ill on him, like a court-dress fastened on a vulgar fellow. He spoke with a would-be jaunty, free-and-easy, small-swagger sort of air, and changed at times the tones of his voice to an offensive cringing softness, which, I dare say, he took to be monstrously insinuating. All these little circumstances put together prepossessed me with a sudden feeling of dislike to the man. These sort of people are a great nuisance to one, since there is no knowing exactly how to treat them. After some hurried expressions of civility, Mr. Gloucester informed me that he had sent for me on account of a deep depression of spirits to which he was latterly subject. He proceeded to detail many of the symptoms of a disordered nervous system. He was tormented with vague apprehensions of impending calamity; could not divest himself of an unaccountable trepidation of manner, which, by attracting observation,