for Miss Wiggins was an ordinary girl, ill-tempered, and rapacious; and the lover must have been as blind as Cupid himself to have solicited her large mottled hand, which was more calculated to light a kitchen fire than to strike a spark.

But, however true, and necessary to the development of our subject, this digression is ungallant. To return to Mrs. Wrigglesby. One severe morning in December, Diggs was making his matinal grimaces before his looking-glass, lathering, and scraping, and wincing under the infliction of the uncomfortable operation, grumbling at the lukewarmness of the water, and the bluntness of his razor, when a sudden exclamation from Mrs. Diggs made him start, and make a slight incision upon his half-mown chin.

"'Nation!” cried he, stamping. "What the deuce is the matter?" Mrs. Diggs, who had spoken so unseasonably, was now mute, as, with a mysterious air, she took her husband by the arm, and leading him to the window, drew aside the muslin curtain, and pointed to the opposite side of the street.

Diggs saw nothing.

Nothing!" cried Mrs. Diggs. "You fool! don't you see the house is closed from top to bottom!"

"Gemini!" said Diggs, —“why, I say, as sure as a gun the old 'un's kicked the-"

"You unfeeling brute!" said the amiable and agitated Mrs. Diggs. "Put down your razor, and run over to Mrs. Grigson's, and give a single tap at the door, and say we hope nothing's the matter."

Three strides brought Diggs to his destination. He knocked, inquired, and his worst anticipations were realized-poor Mrs. Wrigglesby was gone!

Unfortunately the widow had been taken away from her friends so suddenly, that she had had no time to make a will. Many were, of course, very much surprised; but it "turned out," upon investigation, that her husband had bequeathed her a sum of money, which she had prudently laid out in an annuity, which ceased with her life; and her "plate, linen, and wearing apparel" scarcely produced sufficient to pay her "just debts and funeral expenses."

But perhaps her best epitaph is, that the Mump "still lives in the memory of all those who knew her!"

ON THE RUMOURED KNIGHTING OF BRUNEL,
OF THAMES TUNNEL CELEBRITY.

By St. George! what a change from the days that have been,
When a knight achieved fame by his sword in the field;
Now high honours are gain'd on a much lower scene,
And the knight owes this triumph alone to his shield!

E. L. J.

GHOST GOSSIPS AT BLAKESLEY HOUSE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF STEPHEN DUGARD."

"WELL," said Simon Barnardiston, looking boldly round the room, but wishing he could see the further end of it, "I do like good ghost stories, because I don't believe them."

"And I," rejoined Hugh Buckner, "like them, because I do be lieve them; for nobody shall persuade me that there are no such things as ghosts."

"With respect to there actually being such things as ghosts," remarked Ebenezer Carliel, gravely, "I don't know exactly what to say, after what happened to my own uncle."

"What was that?" inquired Mary Falconer (a pretty laughterloving lass of eighteen), as she drew her chair nearer to the fire, and asked Mr. Carliel to stir it up and make a blaze.

Why," replied Ebenezer, taking out his watch as he spoke, "it is almost too late to tell you.”

Oh, do!" said Mrs. Dagleish, snuffing the candles, as if she liked to have plenty of light for a ghost story.

"Yes, do," echoed Mary Falconer.

"Do you know it is just twelve?" observed Mr. Carliel.

Capital!" exclaimed Simon Barnardiston. "When it strikes, who knows but we may have the ghost himself."

"Don't be foolish," said Mrs. Dagleish; "there 's many a true word spoken in jest."

"Ay," replied Hugh Buckner, "and many a jest that's spoken in bravado. I warrant Simon would be the first to walk out of the window, if he saw a ghost walking in at the door."

Try me," said Barnardiston.

"Try me," repeated a hollow sepulchral voice, which seemed to come down the chimney close to Simon's elbow, but which in reality came from a half-opened door by the side of the fire-place, that led into the best parlour.

Simon sprang from his chair as if he had been shot out of it by a bomb underneath,-Mary Falconer gave a scream,—Mrs. Dagleish cried, "Lord! what is it?"-Hugh Buckner felt a curious sensation run down his back, and out at his toes,-while Mr. Carliel ejaculated "Humph!" and deliberately finished the pinch of snuff he had just taken from his box; an act of calm self-possession for which he was solely indebted to the accidental circumstance of being seated opposite the door, where he saw at that instant the twinkling eye and good-humoured roguish face of Stephen Falconer, Mary's brother, who now burst into the room with an uproarious laugh at pour Simon.

"How can you make such a fool of yourself?" said Simon, nettled at having been frightened out of his valour before he had well pat it on.

"Why, I never heard you come in," said his sister. "Who opened the door?"

"Jesse," replied Stephen, still laughing at his friend Simon, in which he was now joined by the whole party, each having by this time discovered that nobody was afraid but Simon, because he hap

pened to be the only one who had given proof of the agility which fear sometimes produces.

Presently they were once more seated round the fire, with the addition of Stephen Falconer, when the church bell began to toll the midnight hour.

"Now for your story, Mr. Carliel," said Hugh Buckner, "and then we will go to bed. Tell us what happened to your uncle." "Well," replied Mr. Carliel, "if Mrs. Dagleish will suffer such late hours in her house-"

"Oh !" interrupted Mrs. Dagleish, "it's Christmas time, so we may stretch a point;" and the cups were forthwith replenished with elder wine from a capacious jug which stood upon the hob. Mr. Carliel then began:

"My uncle, Dr. de Burgh, was a great reader, you must know, and very fond of poring over his books when all the rest of the family were in bed. One December night, as he was thus sitting alone in his study, the door of which was carefully locked (for he was terribly afraid of thieves, and always had a pair of loaded pistols on the table at such times), he had laid down his book to snuff the candles, when he saw sitting in an elbow-chair on the other side of the fire-place an elderly gentleman in a black velvet gown. His face was exceedingly thin and pale, shaded by long grey hair, which descended to his shoulders, and in his hand he held a small branch of rosemary. His eyes were fixed upon my uncle with a mild, benignant expression; and a smile of the same character gently spread itself over his countenance, when he perceived the alarm which his presence created.

"Who are you?' said the Doctor, looking towards the door to see whether by any chance he had that night forgotten to fasten it; but it was closed, and the key turned in it as usual.

"I am come,' said the mysterious visitor, to do an act of charity and justice through your means; and I have selected you for the office, because I know your integrity.'

"The voice of the speaker was low and solemn, but nothing ghost-like. The Doctor repeated his question, however, as to who he was, with the additional inquiry of whence he came, and how he got into the room; for he did not then suppose it to be a spectre. The old gentleman remained silent, but looked displeased; and my uncle, resolving to clear up the mystery, thought he would ring for the servants, who had not long gone to bed. He found, however, that he had no power to move from his chair.”

"Rather unpleasant," observed Simon Barnardiston.

"Particularly to persons who like to spring out of their chairs," remarked Hugh Buckner, significantly.

"There, hold your tongue," said Mary Falconer, impatiently, "and let Mr. Carliel go on."

"When the apparition perceived the Doctor's agitation, it addressed him in a tone of great gentleness, and begged he would not be alarmed, as it had no intention to do him the least injury.

"In the name of God who are you?' said the Doctor.

"Were I to tell you,' replied the apparition, it would be of no use, for you do not know me. Listen to my errand. When I was of this world, I lived in the county of where I died possessed of large estates. These now belong to my grandson; but a suit has

been commenced by my two nephews, the sons of my younger brother, to wrest them from him. You must prevent it.'

"I!' exclaimed my uncle.

"You. It is for that purpose I am here. My words surprise you, and you are incredulous. Attend to what I am now going to say. The grand deed of settlement, the conveyance of the inheritance, is lost, and, for want of this deed, my grandson cannot maintain his right.'

"Well,' said my uncle, and what can I do?'

"This,' rejoined the spectre: go down to my grandson's house, and I will give you such instructions as shall enable you to find it

for him.'

"Why not give those instructions to your grandson himself?' said the Doctor, becoming a little more at his ease with his unknown guest.

"Ask me not about that: there are divers reasons (some of which you may know hereafter) why I have preferred to do it through you. Your answer, therefore will you undertake the

office?'

"After some further discourse, my uncle consented, and then the spectre disclosed his name, the residence of his grandson, and such other particulars as were necessary to enable him to fulfil his mission.

"When you arrive,' continued the old gentleman, 'you can say you have seen me, but without mentioning where, or under what circumstances. I will prepare him for your visit. Ask to see the house, and in going over it you will come to an upper room or loft, filled with lumber. In one corner of this room there is an old chest with a broken lock, and a key in it, which can neither be turned in the lock nor pulled out of it. In that chest lies the grand deed which conveys the inheritance, and without the production of which my grandson and his family will be ruined. One thing more I would mention, which I wish you to take down in writing.'

66

My uncle drew to the table, and spreading a sheet of paper before him, sat with his pen ready to write whatever the spectre might dictate. Several minutes elapsed, during which not a word was spoken, when raising his eyes, he perceived the chair empty! The vision had disappeared. He looked around the room, examined the door and windows, but could discover nothing which indicated how it had made its exit."

"I suppose the candles burned tolerably blue," remarked Simon Barnardiston.

"Of course," responded Hugh Buckner.

"And what did your uncle do?" inquired Mary Falconer. "Why, he went down to the old gentleman's grandson, by whom he was received with unexpected civility, though a perfect stranger to him. In the course of conversation, he mentioned that he knew his grandfather, and that he was aware of the circumstances under which it was likely he would be troubled in his possession of the

estates.

"Ay,' observed the gentleman, shaking his head; my father died so young, and my grandfather left his affairs so confused, that, for want of one principal writing, I am in danger of being dispossessed of this fine property by my cousins.'

"It is to be hoped you will be able to find it,' said my uncle. "I think I shall,' replied the gentleman, looking significantly at the Doctor, now you are come.'

"I!' exclaimed my uncle, in great astonishment.

"Yes, you. I had a dream last night, in which I saw a stranger resembling yourself, who said he had come to assist me in the search.

“Very odd,' said the Doctor, that you should have had such a dream. But I suppose you have already examined every place where it was at all likely the writing could have been deposited?' "Every drawer, every box, every cupboard, every chest, every nook and corner in the house, from top to bottom,' replied the gentleman.

"And what did you do with the boxes and chests after you had thus ransacked them?'

"I piled them up in an old loft full of rubbish, which leads out upon the clock turret.'

"I should like to see that old loft,' said the Doctor.

"That you may; but it is not there you'll find the deed of settlement, I promise you.'

68 6

Perhaps not,' rejoined my uncle, musing. "Certainly not,' answered the gentleman.

follow me, I'll show you the place.'

However, if you'll

"So away they went, and when they entered the room, my uncle found everything just as the old gentleman had described, including the old chest with the rusty lock upon it, and the key—which would neither turn round nor come out."

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Mrs. Dagleish.

"Yes," continued Mr. Carliel; "and, what was yet more wonderful, my uncle saw the old gentleman himself seated near the window, smiling at him, and silently encouraging him by his gestures to proceed with his task; but he had sufficient self-command to suppress every expression of astonishment. He glanced at his companion to observe whether he was aware of his grandfather's presence, and perceiving him quite unmoved, he was satisfied the spectre was visible only to himself.

"And you say you have ransacked every trunk and chest in this room?' said the Doctor.

"Every one.'

"That's a queer-looking old box, with the key sticking out,' he continued.

"Ah!' replied the gentleman, 'that disappointed me the most of all. It was full of dusty parchments, and I made sure I should find the one I wanted; but it was not there.'

I have a strange fancy come into my head,' said the Doctor, ' and I wish you would gratify it.'

"What is it?'

"I should like to examine that box myself.'

"There's nothing to examine; it's empty.'

"Never mind; just indulge me,' rejoined my uncle.

"Certainly,' said the gentleman; and calling a servant, he bade him drag it out from the heap of chests beneath which it lay. While thus employed, his master addressed him, 'Don't you remember that box, Will?'