journey; and it happened most fortunately that her place of destination and mine were the same. I instantly offered her a seat in my carriage. Almost without looking at me, or perceiving my youth, which, at another time, would probably have occasioned some difficulty, she instantly accepted my offer with such visible joy, that I perceived at once that her mind was occupied by a nobler and more engrossing feeling than any cold calculation of propriety. The horses arrived rather sooner than I expected, and ere it was wholly dark we were seatad in the carriage.

"The increased rapidity and comfort of the mode of travelling, the certainty that before midnight she would reach the goal of her wishes, had disposed her to be communicative; and ere we had proceeded a league, I learned, to my great astonishment, that my travelling companion was the youngest sister of my friend, who had for years been brought up in the capital, whom I had seen for an instant when a child, and whom, under that appellation, my friend had locked so -tenderly in his parting-embrace. She told me that the sudden illness of her father had shocked and agitated her extremely; that her brother had written to her that he was still in life, but that there were no hopes of his recovery; and finding an unexpected opportunity by means of the vehicle which was returning to her native place, she had felt unable to withstand the temptation, or rather the irresistible longing which impelled her, without her brother's knowledge, and contrary, as she feared, to her relations' wishes, to see her beloved father before he died.

"I told her my name, which she recognised at once as that of a friend whom her brother had often mentioned to her, and thus a confidential footing was established between us, which I took care not to impair by impertinent enquiries. 1 could not even, while she was under my protection, obtain a single glance of her face. Calmer consideration probably suggested to her, how easily our travelling together might afford room for scandal; so when we crossed the ferry towards the little island, she did not leave the carriage; and when we reached the town at a pretty late hour, she laid hold of my hand, as I was directing the postilion to go on, and said hastily,' Let me alight here. This street, near the bridge, leads across the churchyard to our house. I fear to see or to speak to any one.'

"I will accompany you,' said I. 'I will surprise my friend.' I made the postilion stop, directed him to the inn, and we alighted. The maiden leant upon my arm; I felt that she trembled violently, and had need of support.

"We walked across the churchyard towards the parsonage. Through the darkness of the blustering and rainy autumnal night, several windows, dimly lighted, and shaded by curtains, were visible. The gate, leading to the other side of the house was merely laid to. The court was empty; every one seemed busy within. The windows on this side were all dark. I saw by the inequality of my companion's step how much her anxiety was increasing.

"We hurried across the court, and entered the little narrow passage of the house, which was also unlighted. We stood for a moment drawing our breath, and listening. From the farthest chamber on the left we heard a rustling noise, and the sound of whispering voices. A broad streak of light, which streamed from the halfopened door into the passage, was darkened occasionally by the shadows of persons moving within. It is my sister's room,' whispered my conductress, and darted towards it. I followed her hastily. But what a sight awaited us!

"The corpse of a young maiden had just been lifted out of bed, and placed on a bier adjoining. A white covering concealed the body even to the chin. Several elderly females were employed in tying up the long dark tresses of the deceased; while others were standing by inactive, or occupied in removing the phials and medicines from the table.

"My companion had thrown back her veil at entering, and stood as if rooted to the spot. Even the unexpected shock she had encountered, could not banish from her cheek the glow with which anxiety and exercise had tinged it; nay, the fire of her eye seemed to have acquired a deeper and more piercing lustre. So stood she, the blooming representative of the very fulness of life, beside the pallid victim of inexorable Death. The startling contrast agitated me the more, that in those well-known features I traced, in renovated beauty, those of the enchanting portrait; scarcely master of my senses, I almost believed that I saw again the same maiden who, two hours before, had fascinated me in the Frederick's Hospital, when, all at once, half turning to me, she exclaimed, ' O, my poor sister Lucia!'

""Lucia!'-the name fell upon me like a stroke of lightning. So, then, she whom I had last seen in the glow of life and beauty, lay before me cold in death! What assurance could I have, that the fair vision which still flitted before me, blooming with health, and life, and grace, was not the mere mask under which some spectre had shrouded itself, or round which the King of Terrors had already wound his invisible but unrelaxing arm! The figures in the Dance of Death involuntarily flashed upon my mind. My very existence seemed to dissolve in a cold shudder. I saw, scarcely conscious of what was going on, and as if in a dream, the living beauty draw near to the corpse; momentarily I expected to see the dead maiden throw her arms around her, and to see her fade away into a spectre in that ghastly embrace, when my friend, who had apparently been summoned by the women, pale, and almost distracted, rushed in, and tore her from the corpse, exclaiming, 'Hence, thoughtless creature! Wilt thou murder us both?Away from this pestiferous neighbourhood! If you will look upon the dead, come to the couch of our honoured father, whose gentle features seem to invoke a blessing upon us, even in death.'

来

light in her hand; another, in whom I thought I recognised the features of our old attendant, beckoned me, with tears in her eyes, into the well-remembered parlour, where every thing remained unaltered, with the exception of the little work-tables, all of which had been removed but one. She placed before me some cold meat and wine, begged I would excuse them if things were not in order, and left the room, which my friend at the same moment entered.

"He embraced me with an agitation, a melting tenderness, he had seldom before manifested. You come,' said he,' unexpected, but not unwelcome. I have been thinking of you for some days past, and was wishing for your presence even while you were on your way.'

"Then,' said I, still with a feeling of disorder in my mind,' the right time is come? Speak on, then; tell me all !'

“The time,' replied he, 'is come, but scarcely yet the moment. I see by your paleness, your shuddering, that the dark fate which sits upon our house has agitated you too deeply at present to admit of a calm and unprejudiced consideration of the subject. Summon your mind, eat, drink, return to your inn. I will not ask you to tarry longer in the house of death; although-I hopeDeath has now knocked at our door for the last time for a long period to come. Go and compose yourself. That God should visit the sins of the fathers on the children, seems a harsh, a Jewish sentence;-that nature transmits to posterity the consequences of the weaknesses or guilt of the parent, sounds milder, and looks more true:-but, alas! the consequences are the same. No more of this.'

“I drank but a single glass of wine, which, in truth, I needed, and betook myself to my inn. I took the picture, which I still wore, from my neck, but I did not open it. I was over wearied, and, in spite of the over excitement of my mind, I soon dropt asleep.

"The smiling beams of the morning sun, as I awoke, poured new life and composure into my soul. I thought of our confidential conversation in the carriage, in which, unknown to herself, my fair companion had displayed the beauty of her mind, and I could not forbear smiling at the feelings of terror and distrust which my heated fancy had infused into my mind in regard to her and to the picture. It lay before me on the table, innocent as herself, with its bright loving eyes turned upon me, and seemed to whisper, I am neither Jacoba nor Lucia.' 1 took out my friend's letter, which conveyed the same assurance; calm understanding seemed to resume its ascendancy in my heart; and yet, at times, the impression of the preceding evening recurred for a moment to my mind.

"I hurried, not without painful impatience, as soon as I was dressed, towards the desolate mansion of my friend. He had been waiting me for some time, advanced to meet me with a cheerful look, when I found his sister composed, but in deep mourning, and with an expression of profound grief, seated at the breakfast-table.

“She extended her hand to me with a melancholy, but kindly smile; and yet I drew back with an oppressive sensation at my heart, for the picture stood before me more perfect in resemblance than it had appeared to my excited fancy the evening before; but here there was more than the picture. I saw, too, at the first glance, a nobler bearing, a higher expression, than in the features of her sisters. In looking at them, I was reminded of the picture; in gazing on her, I forgot its existence. Our confidential and touching conversation, which still involuntarily reverted to the deceased, sank deep into my heart. Gradually every uneasy feeling faded from my mind; and when she left us at last at her brother's request, to visit some of her young acquaintances whom she had not seen for a long time before, I gazed after her with a look, the expression of which was no secret to her brother.

"His first words showed that this was the case. 'At last,' said he,' you have the original, or the true copy of the picture, which is an enigma even to myself, even though it be the work of my own hands. I knew well that her aspect of spotless purity would at once banish every feeling of distrust from your mind, as it has done from mine. If the picture be still dear to you--if you can love her and gain her affection, she is yours; but first listen to that which I have so long withheld from you. You must judge, after hearing it, whether you are still inclined as freely to accept the offer. We shall be uninterrupted from without; and do not you interrupt me,' said he, as he drew the bolt of the door, and seated himself by my side.

Mysterious as every thing is apt to appear, which ordinary experience does not enable us to explain, do not expect to hear any thing more wonderful in this case than admits of a simple explanation, when tried by the test of cold and sober reasoning. My father, without being disposed to talk much on the subject was a believer in dreams-that is to say, he frequently dreamt of events which were afterwards actually fulfilled; and in fact, in such cases, his presentiments were rarely erroneous. While a candidate, for instance, for a church, he used to be able in this way to foresee, from a vague and undefinable, but yet distinct feeling, when he should be called upon to preach for any of the clergymen in the neighbourhood. He had seen himself, on such occasions, in the pulpit, and often, at waking, could recollect long passages from those ideal sermons he had delivered. In other matters, he was a person of a lively and cheerful turn of mind. By his first marriage he had no children. He contracted a second with my mother, a stranger, who had only shortly before come into the country-very pretty, very poor and whose gay, but innocent manner, had been my father's chief attraction. She was passionately fond of dancing, an amusement for which the annual birdshooting, the vintage feasts, and the balls given by the surrounding nobility on their estates in the neighbourhood, afforded frequent opportunities, and in which she participated rather

more frequently than was altogether agreeable to her husband, though he only ventured to rest his objections on his apprehension for her health. Some vague reports spoke of her having, early in life, encountered some deep grief, the impression of which she thus endeavoured, by gaiety and company to dissipate.

"One day my father was invited to a party given in honour of the arrival of a nobleman long resident in the capital, and accepted the invitation only on condition that my mother would agree to dance very little. This prohibition led to a slight matrimonial scene, which terminated on her part in tears, on his in displeasure. The evening before, they received a visit from the nobleman himself, who being an old college friend of my father's, had called to talk over old stories, and enjoy an evening of confidential conversation.

"My father's gift of dreams happened to be mentioned; the Count related an anecdote which had taken place shortly before in Paris, and which he had learnt from Madame de Genlis; and a long argument ensued upon the subject of dreams and their fulfilment.

"The conversation was prolonged for some time, my mother appearing to take no particular share in it. But the following day she seemed abstracted, and at the party declined dancing, even though her husband himself pressed her to take a share in the amusement. Nay, on being asked, as she stood by my father's side, to dance, by the son of the nobleman above alluded to, and who was believed to have been an old acquaintance of hers, she burst at once into tears. My father even pressed her to mingle in the circle; she continued to refuse; at last she was overheard to say-"Well,fif you insist upon it on my account, be it so."

"Never before had she danced with such spirit; from that moment she was never off the floor. She returned home exhausted and unwell, and out of humour. She was now in the fifth month of her pregnancy, and it seemed as if she regretted the apparent levity which her conduct had betrayed.

"Her husband kindly enquired what was the cause of her singular behaviour. “You would not listen to me," she replied, " and now you will laugh at my anxiety; nay, perhaps you will tell me that people ought never to mention before women any thing out of the ordinary course, because they never hear more than half, and always give it a wrong meaning. The truth then is, your conversation some evenings ago made a deep impression on me. The peculiar state of my health had probably increased the anxiety with which for some time past I have been accustomed to think of the future. I fell asleep with the wish that something of my own future fate might be unfolded to me in my dreams. The past, with all the memorable events of my life, nay, even our late dispute as to dancing, were all confusedly mingled in my brain; and, after many vague and unintelligible visions, which I have now forgotten, they gra

dually arranged themselves into the following dream:

"I thought I was standing in a dancing-room, and was accosted by a young man of prepossessing appearance, who asked me to dance. Methinks, although probably the idea only struck me afterwards, that he resembled the Count, the son of our late host. I accepted his invitation; but having once begun to dance, he would on no account be prevailed on to cease. At last I grew uneasy. I fixed my eyes upon him with anxiety; it seemed to me as if his eyes grew dimmer and dimmer, his cheeks paler and more wasted, his lips shrivelled and skinny, his teeth grinned out, white and ghastly, and at last he stared upon me with bony and eyeless sockets. His white and festal garments had fallen away. I felt as if encircled by a chain of iron. A skeleton clasped me in its fleshless arms. Round and round he whirled me, though all the other guests had long before disappeared. I implored him to let me go; for I felt I could not extricate myself from his embrace. The figure answered with a hollow tone,' Give me first thy flowers.' Involuntarily my glance rested on my bosom, in which I had placed a newly-blown rose with several buds, how many 1 know not. I made a movement to grasp it, but a strange irresistible feeling seemed to flash through my heart, and to draw back my hand. My life seemed at stake; and yet I could not part with the lovely blooming flower, that seemed as it were a portion of my own heart. One by one, though with a feeling of the deepest anguish, I plucked off the buds, and gave them to him with an imploring look, but in vain. He shook his bony head; he would have them all. One little bud only, and the rose itself, remained behind; I was about to give him this last bud, but it clung firmly to the stalk of the rose, and 1 pulled them both together from my bosom. I shuddered; I could not part with them; he grasped at the flowers, when suddenly 1 either threw them forcibly behind mc, or an invisible hand wrenched them out of mine, I know not which; I sank into his skeleton arms, and awoke at the same instant to the consciousness of life."

"So saying, she burst into tears. My father, though affected by the recital, laboured vainly. to allay her anxiety. From that moment, and especially after my birth, her health declined; occasionally only, during her subsequent pregnancies, her strength would partially revive, though her dry cough never entirely left her. After giving birth to six daughters, she died in bringing the seventh into the world. I was then about twelve years old. To her last hour she was a lovely woman, with a brilliant complexion, and sparkling eyes. Shortly afterwards I was sent to school, only visiting my father's house and my sister's during the holydays. All of them, as they grew up, more or less resembled their mother; till they attained their thirteenth or fourteenth year they were pale, thin, and more than usually tall; from that moment they seemed suddenly to expand into loveliness; though

scarcely had they attained their sixteenth year, when the unnatural brilliancy of their cheeks, and the almost supernatural lustre of their eyes, began to betray the internal hectic fire which was secretly wasting the strength of youth.

"Seldom at home, I had little idea of the evil which hung over our home. I had seen my eldest sister in her beauty, and her wane; and then I heard of her death. I was at the university when the second died. Shortly afterwards I visited my home. I found my third sister in the full bloom of youthful loveliness. I had been dabbling a little in painting, and felt anxious to attempt her portrait, but I had made no great progress when the time for my departure arrived. I was long absent; when I next returned, it was on the occasion of her death. 1 was now no longer a heedless boy. I saw the melancholy of my father, and ascribed it to the shock of so many successive deaths. He was silent; he left me in my happy ignorance, though even then the deathstillness and loneliness of the house weighed with an undefinable oppression on my heart. My sister Regina seemed to grow up even more lovely than her deceased sisters. I now found the sketch which I had begun so like her, that I resolved to make her sit to me in secret, that ] might finish. the picture, and surprise my father with it before my departure. It was but half finished, however, when the period of my return to the capital arrived. I thought I would endeavour to finish it from memory, but, strangely enough, I always confused myself with the recollection of my dead sisters, whose features seemed to float before my eyes. In spite of all my efforts, the portrait would not become that of Regina. 1 recollected having heard my father say, that she, of all the rest, bore the greatest resemblance to her mother; so I took out a little picture of her, which she had left to me, and endeavoured with this assistance, and what my fancy could supply, to finish the picture. At last it was finished, and appeared to possess a strange resemblance to all my sisters, without being an exact portrait of any.

"As I had intended it, however, for the portrait of Regina in particular, I determined to take it with me on my next visit, and endeavour to correct its defects by a comparison with the original. I came, but the summer of her beauty was already past. When I drew out the picture to compare it with her features, I was shocked at the change which had taken place in her, though it had not yet manifested itself in symptoms of disease. As I was packing up my drawing materials again, under some pretext or other, my father unexpectedly entered. He gave a glance at the picture, seemed deeply agitated, and then exclaimed-" Let it alone."

"That evening, however, as, according to our old custom, we were sitting together in his study, after my sisters had gone to rest, our hearts reciprocally opened to each other.

1 now for the first time obtained a glimpse into my father's wounded heart. He related to me that dream as you have now heard it; and

D

his firm conviction that almost all his children, one by one, would be taken from him; a conviction against which he had struggled, till fatal experience had begun too clearly to realize it. I now learned that he had brought up his daughters in this strict and almost monastic seclusion, that no taste for the world or its pleasures might be awakened in the minds of those who were doomed to quit it so soon. They mingled in no gay assemblies, scarcely in a social party; and even I, my friend, have since that time never thought of dancing without a shudder. Conceive what an impression this conversation, and that fearful prophetic dream, made upon my mind! That I and my youngest sister seemed excepted from the doom of the rest, I could not pay much attention to; for was not my mother, at my birth, suffering under that disease which she had bequeathed to her children; and how, then, was it likely that I should be an exception? My imagination was active enough to extend the sentence of death to us all. The interpretation which my father attempted to give to the dream, so as to preserve us to himself, might be but a delusive suggestion of paternal affection; perhaps, self-deluded, he had forgotten, or given another turn to the conclusion of the dream. deep and wild despair seized upon me, for life to me was all in all! In vain my father endeavoured to compose me; and, finding his efforts unsuccessful, he contented himself with exacting from me the promise that this fatal secret of our house should be communicated to none.

A

"It was at this time I became acquainted with you. The conflict which raged within my bosom between reason and superstition, between the struggles of courage and the suggestions of despair, could not be concealed from you, though you could form no idea of its source. I accompanied you to Lubeck. The sight of the Dance of Death produced a remarkable effect upon my mind. 1 saw a representation of my mother's dream, and in that too, I thought I perceived also its origin. A film seemed to fall from my eyes; it was the momentary triumph of sober reason. It struck me at once that the idea of this picture, which my mother had undoubtedly at one time seen, had been floating through her excited imagination, and had given rise to that dark vision, before whose fatal influence my father and I had prostrated ourselves so long, instead of ascribing the successive deaths of our family to their true source, in the infectious nature of that disease which my mother's insane love of dancing had infused into her own veins, and which had been the ominous inheritance of her offspring. The advances I had already made in the study of medicine, confirmed these views. The confined and solitary life my sisters had led, the total want of any precaution in separating those who were still in health from those who had been already attacked by this malady, was in itself sufficient to account for all which had happened. Animated by this idea, I hurried home in spite of all your entreaties. I laboured to make my father participate in my views, to induce him to

separate my other sisters from the already fast declining Regina; but the obstinacy of age, and his deep conviction of the vanity of all such efforts, rendered my efforts and pleadings unavailing.

"It was only after great difficulty that I was prevailed upon to part with my youngest sister, then a mere child, who, from the close connexion in which her life seemed to stand with myself in that singular dream, had become my favourite, and on whom I felt impelled to lavish all that love, which a certain involuntary shuddering sensation that I felt in the presence of my other sisters, as beings on whom Death had already set his seal, prevented me from bestowing fully upon them. It was only on my assuring my father that my peace, nay, my life, depended on his granting me this request, that he consented that she should be brought up in the capital, under my eye. I accompanied her thither myself. I watched over her with an anxiety proportioned to my love. She was not so tall as her sisters had been at the same age. She seemed to unfold herself more slowly, and in all things, as well as her education, she was the reverse of them. Her gaiety, her liveliness, her enjoyment of life, which often inspired me with a deep melancholy, gave additional bloom to her personal appearance; I could trace in her no appearance of weakness of the breast; but she was still a tender, delicate nature, the blossom, as I might say, of a higher climę.

"It was long before I returned to my father's house; but his sickness, which rendered a dangerous operation necessary, brought him to the capital with my two remaining sisters. What I had foreseen was now fulfilled. Jacoba had become Regina, Lucia Jacoba. I knew it would

be so, and yet it struck me with horror; the more so when I observed, as 1 already hinted, that during the bloom of their ephemeral existence, all my sisters successively acquired a strong resemblance to their mother, and consequently to the portrait; though not so close as may have appeared to your excited imagination, who saw them but for a moment and after a long interval. 1 cannot tell how the daily sight of these devoted maidens, who inspired at once pity and terror, wrought upon my heart. It brought back my old despair, my old fears, which at such moments reasoning could not subdue, that I and all of us, my darling with the rest, would become the victims of this hereditary plague. My situation was the more trying, that I was obliged to invent a thousand stratagems and little falsehoods to keep the sisters, then living in the same city, apart. I could not altogether succeed, and the misery 1 felt at such moments how shall I describe! Your coming, your mistake, filled up the measure of my despair. When you wrote, I found it for a long time impossible to answer your affectionate letter.

"It was only long after the return of my family to their home that I regained my composure. The theory of medicine had long been hateful to me; though in the course of my re

searches into that fatal disorder, to which our family seemed destined, I had more than once met with instances in which the disease, after a certain period seemed to concentrate itself on its victim, so as not to be transmitted to her subsequent offspring. My father too, who, during his residence in the capital, had perceived my distracted state of mind, took the opportunity of giving me, as he thought, a word of comfort, though it only wrung from me a bitter smile. He told me of a dream which he had had after my mother's death, and which he had hitherto concealed, because its import seemed to be of a threatening nature for me; although at the same time it seemed to give him the assurance, that at least I should not perish by the same fate which had overwhelmed my sisters. He thought he saw me, whether young or old he could not say, for my face was covered, lying asleep or dead in some foreign country. My baggage was heaped about me, and on fire; but the thick smoke which arose from the pile prevented him from perceiving whether I was burnt or not.

rrr Though at first much shocked at this dream, yet, viewed in the light already mentioned, it had on the whole a consoling tendency; and for this reason he had communicated it to me, though still with some shrinking sensations at its recollection. It was now my turn to afford him consolation, by pointing out to him that this dream, vague and indistinct in its meaning, like most others, had probably been already fulfilled, since my effects had in fact been all burnt about me during the bombardment of Copenhagen, and I myself, in a diseased and scarcely conscious state of mind, only extricated from danger by the exertions of my friends. He seemed struck with this observation, and was silent; but I saw that his confidence in the certainty of dreams was in no shape abated. But my chief source of consolation lay in the slow and natural growth of my Amanda, who did not, like her sisters, resemble a mere hot-house plant, but a sweet natural flower, though her light and ethereal being would render her equally unable to encounter the rude breath of earthly sorrow, or the influence of a rugged clime;-and you, whether accidentally or not-(and this gives me, I confess, new hope and courage)-you have a second time been the preserver of her life, by sheltering her from the blight of a stormy and freezing autumnal night, which would have been enough to blast at once this delicate production of a more genial clime. You, like a protecting angel, conducted her to her paternal home; that home where the angel of death has now, I trust, marked the threshold with blood for the last time, since the scythe that swept away my venerable father, with the same stroke mowed down the last declining life of his daughters.

"In truth, I begin to cherish the best hopes of the future. In her mild eye that beams with no unearthly light, her cheek that glows with no concealed fever, there are no traces of the consuming worm within; only, as I have already said, the delicacy of her frame requires the ten