stand that we attribute the whole affair to selfillusion, produced by a certain diseased state of mind; for the mind, sometimes with, and sometimes without, the influence of the body, has many shades of disease besides actual insanity. If it be asked, how could two spirited young men, under the ordinary circumstances of life, and in plain daylight, be impressed by the same illusion, we reply that this is by no means wonderful. We have instances of many thousands labouring at the same moment under an identical deception of the visual organs. Did not the Roman hosts see, as one man, the Gods, Castor and Pollux, fighting, upon more than one occasion, for their encouragement? Did not the Scandinavian champions agree in seeing the chusers of the slain, selecting their intended victims on the day of battle? And lastly, as perhaps coming nearer to the present matter, have not thousands of Christian warriors concurred in having been eye-witnesses how St. George and St. James fought in the van, for the encouragement of their mortal followers? Now in all these cases we have not two individuals only, but thousands, fancying they saw the same vision; yet who will believe that it was, or could be, any thing more than fancying? Imaginations, like epileptic fits, are very apt to communicate themselves from one to another by a sort of mysterious

sympathy, which we may not comprehend, but which is not the less real. In this particular instance the story has never undergone a thorough sifting. Is it likely that two such intimate friends could have been constantly together without the favourite brother becoming the constant theme of conversation? and might not Wynyard have been more or less of an hypochondriac? The bravest men have been liable to this malady-as witness, the ironnerved Cromwell. Grant but these two data, and it is not merely possible, but highly probable, Sir John may have been deluded into the fancy that he saw the subject of their frequent conversations, and that the hypochondriac brother took from him the infection. The coincidence between the death and the appearance of the supposed spirit, though at first it may startle us, has too many parallels to surprise us upon reflection. Then, too, the extraordinary emaciation is a very useful hint in the solution of this riddle; it shows that the absent brother must have been long ill, and that his death was a thing of expectation.

Such appears to be a not unreasonable explanation of this celebrated ghost-story; yet after all we should recollect that

"There are more things in Heaven and earth,

Than are dreamt of in our philosophy."

159

THE STAR OF THE PRETENDER.

WE do not use the word Pretender in an evil sense, but merely as being the well-known designation of the descendant of a line of kings, the use of which can no longer affect any one, to whatever class of politicians he may belong. Besides, there are just, as well as false, pretensions, and our immediate object is to afford, if we can, amusement, and not to discuss politics.

The Pretender was about to make his longthreatened attempt for the recovery of the throne, which had been lost or forfeited by the unlucky James the Second; but before setting out upon the expedition, he invited to a ball the most distinguished of his friends and partisans, who then happened to be resident in Paris. Amongst the favoured visitors, appeared Lady Mary Touchet,

a young Englishwoman, distinguished at the time for her pre-eminent attractions, both of mind and person. The prince himself was so much struck by her beauty, that he immediately enquired her name of a gentleman in waiting; and being informed that she was the sister of a Catholic peer, he went up to her, and solicited the honour of her hand for the approaching dance. Long ere the evening was over, it was plain enough to be seen that he had become deeply enamoured of his fair partner, and, in the ardour of his sudden passion, he communicated to her, as a secret not as yet publicly known, his intention of attacking the dynasty that then possessed the throne of England. Her reply was too gentle to be overheard, and the less so, as the rest of the company, from respect to the prince, kept at some little distance; but its general tenor may be inferred from what followed. Taking out a penknife, the prince ripped the star from his breast, and presented it to her in token of regard or love, and probably the latter.

It is needless to repeat here the oft-told story how Charles Edward landed in Scotland, defeated the armies sent against him, marched into England, and yet after all, was forced to fly, and with difficulty escaped from his pursuers. Time rolled on; though Charles found

a safe asylum in a foreign land, it seemed that all hope of regaining the lost crown of his ancestors was farther off than ever. Ill success had probably alienated the hearts of many of his old adherents; it certainly had the effect of discouraging other courts from lending any effectual aid to his designs. In this state of abandonment he resolved to fight his own battles, and devised a scheme which, however bold-nay, even desperate-was by no means so impracticable, as at first sight, it may appear to be. This was to seize the person of King George the Second, as he returned from the play, by the help of a body of chairmen, who were to knock off the servants from behind his coach, extinguish the lights, and get up a mock quarrel amongst themselves, during which another party was to hurry him to the water-side, and carry him off to France. This plan was favoured by several circumstances: by the king's habit of visiting the theatre in a private manner, and protracting his stay there till eleven o'clock, by the imperfect lighting of the whole metropolis, and by the total insufficiency of watchmen to guard the streets. Ten minutes' start would have been enough for the purpose of the conspirators, and they would hardly have failed to gain a much longer limit. That such a plan was feasible, we might prove by many similar attempts made, and