with vehicles to fetch away the sick and wounded, and to whom the officers were chiefly entrusted, fewer trains left than arrived, and overcrowding was continually augmented.

On the stone floors of the hospitals and convents of Castiglione, people of all nations, French and Arabs, Germans and Sclavons, were laid down side by side; many of the persons temporarily placed in the corner of a chapel had not the strength left to move, or could not stir in the confined space. Curses, imprecations, and yells echoed in the sacred buildings. "Ah, sir, how I am suffering!" one of these wretches said to the author. "We are given up, we are left to die in misery, and yet we fought so bravely." In spite of the fatigue they had endured, in spite of sleepless nights, they could not now enjoy rest; in their desperation they appealed for the help of a surgeon, or struck out wildly around, until tetanus and death put an end to their sufferings.

Although every house had become a lodging for the wounded, and every family had quite enough to do in nursing the officers they had taken in, M. Dunant succeeded, on the following Tuesday morning, in collecting a certain number of women, who did their utmost in helping to nurse the patients; amputations and other operations were no longer the sole object; it was necessary to give, food and drink to men who would otherwise die of hunger and thirst, bind up their wounds, or wash their bleeding bodies, which were coated with mud and vermin, and all this must be done amid poisonous exhalations, the cries and moans of the sufferers, and in a stifling heat. The nucleus of such a body of volunteers was soon formed, and the Lombardese women hurried to those who yelled the loudest, although they were not always the worst. M. Dunant, for his part, tried as far as was possible to organise the assistance in that quarter of the town where it was most needed, and took special charge of one of the churches of Castiglione, situated on an eminence on the left hand as you come from Brescia, and called the Chiesa Maggiore. Upwards of five hundred soldiers were collected here, and at the least one hundred more lay in front of the church, on straw and under clothes, which had been put up to keep off the sunbeams.

The nurserywomen went about from one to the other with their jugs and pails, filled with clean water to quench thirst or moisten wounds. Some of these improvised hospital attendants were pretty young girls: their gentleness and kindness, their sweet sympathising tear-laden eyes, as well as their attentive care, effected much in, at any rate, raising the moral courage of the patients. The town-boys came and went, carrying to the church pails, jugs, and watering-pots full of water from the nearest well. This was followed by a distribution of broth and soup, large quantities of which the hospital staff had to supply. Enormous bales of lint were set down here and there, so that every man might take what he wanted, but there was a sad want of bandages, linen, and shirts: the resources of the small town, through which the Austrian army had marched, were so reduced that it was impossible to procure the most trifling articles. Still M. Dunant contrived to obtain some few clean sheets by the help of the worthy women, who brought in all their linen, and on the Monday morning he sent off his coachman to Brescia to procure a fresh stock. He returned a few hours later with the entire carriage loaded with sheets, sponges, linen, ribbons, pins, cigars and tobacco,

VOL. LIV.

T

camomiles, mallows, elder-flowers, oranges, sugar, and lemons, which rendered it possible to give the wounded a much-desired and refreshing glass of lemonade, to wash their wounds with an extract of mallows, to put on warm poultices, and change the bandages more frequently.

During this time the volunteer corps had been reinforced by several recruits. An old naval officer and two English tourists came into the church through curiosity, and were retained there almost per force; two other Englishmen expressed a wish to assist, and distributed cigars principally among the Austrians. In addition to these, an Italian abbé, three or four curious travellers, a journalist of Paris, who eventually undertook the management of a neighbouring church, and, lastly, several officers of the division left in Castiglione, lent a hand in waiting on the patients. One of these officers, however, was soon taken ill through the awful effect of the scenes, and the other volunteers gradually retreated, because they could not endure the sight of these sufferings, which they were so little able to alleviate; the abbé also followed their example, but returned, in order, with a very polite attention, to hold aromatic herbs and smelling-salts under the nose of the workers. A young French tourist, affected by the sight of these human remains, suddenly burst into tears; a merchant from Neufchâtel during two days bandaged the wounded, and wrote the last letters for the dying to their relatives: it was found necessary for his own sake to moderate his zeal, as well as the sympathising excitement of a Belgian, which attained such a pitch that fears were entertained lest he should be attacked by fever, as was the case with a sub-lieutenant who came from Milan to join his corps, and was taken ill in the church.

Several soldiers belonging to the division left in the town also expressed their readiness to attend on their comrades, but they, too, were unable to endure a scene which bowed down their moral courage and so greatly excited their imagination. A corporal of the Engineers, who had been wounded at Magenta, and returned to his corps before he had recovered, having two days of his furlough still left, accompanied M. Dunant to the wounded, and assisted him, although he fainted twice. The purveyor sent to Castiglione at length permitted the convalescent and their Austrian surgeons to wait on the patients. A German surgeon, who had purposely remained on the field of battle in order to bandage his wounded countrymen, offered similar services to the enemy's army, and in recognition of his services he was allowed to rejoin the Austrians at Mantua three days after.

But enough of these horrors. Let us mention in conclusion, however, that the highly respected author adds to his affecting descriptions some very sensible advice as to the better provision for the wounded. We have no space here to enter into this portion of his work, but we confidently recommend it to the attention of all the army and navy surgeons, and trust that the initiative taken by M. Dunant may lead to a fuller investigation of this most important subject. Such information seems to be much needed at the present time in America, if we may believe what we read in the papers about the wounded after the battle of Gettysburg, and which is perhaps only inferior in atrocity to the report given us of the field of Solferino, for which we are indebted to the philanthropy of M. Dunant.

GHOST STORIES.*

FOR One person that believes, and for two that speak with reserve upon the question of belief in ghosts, there are ten that treat so serious a matter with ridicule, scorn, or contempt. This is not philosophical; but we are not all philosophers, and the world must be taken as it is. A clever French writer-M. Kardec-puts this oft-debated question upon an at once intelligible and fair basis. Concluding that he who believes in God believes in his own soul, and, further, that that soul exists after death, the next question to solve is, can the disembodied spirit communicate with flesh? Why not? says M. Kardec. What is man but an imprisoned soul? Shall not the free spirit talk with the captive, as a free man with a prisoner? Since it is admitted that the soul survives, is it rational to conclude that the affections die? Since the souls are everywhere, is it not natural that the soul that loved us should desire to be near? Since, in life, it directed its own corporal movements, can it not, in harmony with another soul, still united with the body, borrow from this living frame the power to render its thoughts intelligible?

The views here expounded will remind the reader of the " Physical Theory of Another Life," by Isaac Taylor, the author of the "Natural History of Enthusiasm," and a writer well known for his remarkable powers of thought, united to great earnestness in the cause of evangelical religion. Mr. Taylor's views admit alike both the power and freedom of action of spiritual existences upon physical principles elaborately evolved, but he does not go so far as to expound the power of language being given to spirits; as to the permanence of the affections in Heaven, that is admitted by the generality of divines as deducible from the evidences of Holy Writ. That the free spirit should be among us, or have the power to visit us, must depend upon a very largely accumulated testimony. Mr. Taylor's theory is in favour of such intercommunication; it is, indeed, more easy to admit the fact than to contradict it. Lastly, that such a disembodied spirit may, when in harmony with another soul still united with the body-that is to say, when a person is in such a condition as is essential to communication with the spirits of the other world-borrow from this living frame the power to render its thoughts intelligible, is not so comprehensible as if it were said that it should, by such a harmony, place the embodied soul in those relations to the disembodied soul, which will enable it to establish a communication between the two the impression being that that communication is established through the medium of the vocal organs and in the ordinary language of the spiritual and corporeal parties concerned. The necessity for such conditions is the probable reason for the rarity of the phenomenon, and it is a wise arrangement of Providence that it should be so, for the daily affairs of life would be sadly interfered with if exposed to so serious a mental disarrangement as the interference of spiritual existences. Such phenomena are apparently only permissible, or the power is only availed

Strange Things Among Us. By H. Spicer, Author of "Old Styles's." Chapman and Hall.

of when some object is to be gained; such as decorous burial, the manifestation of affection, the correction of error, falsehood, or dishonesty, the punishment of crime, or for some other wise purpose.

M. Kardec, admitting the facts as above, places his opponents upon the horns of this dilemma: That the being which thinks within us during life cannot think after death. That, if it does, it thinks no more of those it loved. That, if it thinks of them, it does not desire communication. That, though it be everywhere, it cannot be beside us. That, if it be beside us, it cannot communicate its presence. That, owing to its fluid form, it cannot act upon inert substances. That, if it can act upon inert substances, it cannot act upon an intelligible being.

The modus operandi of spiritual beings in their communications with embodied spirits has never yet been satisfactorily explained. This is in great part owing to the connexion never having been as yet philosophically studied. Such communications have hitherto generally occurred among those who were unprepared, taken by surprise, alarmed, or even disbelievers. Were persons thoroughly imbued with the idea of the possible communication between spiritual and bodily existences, they would feel no more dismay at the extraordinary incident than they would at any other daily occurrence of life. They would then study the mode and manner in which that communication is established, and great additional light would gradually be thrown upon the most mysterious phenomena in

nature.

In the mean time, the adversaries of "spiritualism" tell the believers that it rests with them to prove the reality of the manifestations. They do so both by fact and argument. If, after this, they will admit neither the one nor the other-if they deny what other eyes have beheld, because they themselves have not seen it-it is for them to prove that all accumulated evidence is false, that all reasoning on the subject is illogical, and that the facts adduced are impossible. Those who are prepared to do so are likewise prepared to lay down limits to natural or physical agencies, as well as to the power or sufferance of the Creator.

Mr. Spicer has been sneered at the inevitable mode of argument adopted in discussing this mysterious topic-for the work now before us; and his introduction of discussions upon many of what have been considered by some as modern or renovated modes of manifestation of spirits, as table-turning, spirit-rapping, spirit-writing, and media of all kinds and descriptions, may, to superficial readers, justify, to a certain extent, such a mode of treatment; but the fact is that Mr. Spicer treats the whole subject in a perfectly philosophical spirit: he is neither dogmatical for, or wilfully opposed to, any possible explanation of incidents; he carefully distinguishes the hallucinations of a diseased brain, the morbid quickening of the senses, the effects of impulse and impression, and the cases that defy analysis, from the better-attested cases of intercommunication with the spirits of the departing or of the departed; and with regard to other less reputable phenomena, he contents himself with pointing out the insufficiency of the modes of explanation hitherto suggested, whilst he neither defends by open argument or by implication the scenes of folly and profanity to which the practices of so-called "modern spiritualism, which has little or no reference to true "spiritualism," have given rise. His chief labour has been to accumulate instances, selecting those that

are best attested. We will refer at first to examples of intercommunication with departing spirits, of which several remarkable instances are given :

Although (says our author) our ghost-seers, as a rule, are, as has been noted, persons of sensitive and impressionable nature-we have apparent instances to the contrary-and, among the rest, a noticeable one in the person of the gallant Colonel M- who perished, with a party of his men, in the lamentable burning of a transport, on her way to the Crimea.

M (with whom the writer was well acquainted) was a man of the coolest nerve, of the most imperturbable self-possession. It was his habit to sit up reading in the chamber of his invalid wife, after the latter had retired to bed. One night, Mrs. M— having fallen asleep, the door opened, and her maid, Lucy, who had been sent home ill, to the charge of her friends, a few days before, entered the room. Perfectly conscious as he declared, from the first, that the object he beheld was no longer of this world, the steady soldier fixed his eyes on the apparition, careful only to catch its every movement, and impress the unexpected scene with accuracy on his memory. The figure moved slowly to the side of the bed,-gazed with a sad and wistful expression on the sleeper's face-and then, as though reluctantly, died away into the gloom. Colonel M then awoke his wife, and related what had occurred. Together they noted the precise moment of the vision. It proved to be that at which the poor girl had breathed her last, murmuring her mistress's name.

Here is another, in which the object of the visitation is more manifest: Having laid it down, herein-before, as a wholesome rule, not to lay too much stress upon the well-strung nervous system of our heroes and heroines, it shall be simply stated, on authority of many years' acquaintance, that Mrs. D-possessed a serene, cheerful temper, and a peculiarly calm and steadfast

mind.

When, five years since, this lady became a widow, it pleased the brother of her husband to dispute the dispositions of the latter's will-a proceeding the more annoying as the provision made for the widow was already extremely moderate. Ultimately, an appeal was made to Chancery. The suit lasted three years, and caused Mrs. D. the utmost vexation and anxiety; when, at length, the law, finding those claims indisputable which should never have been disputed, decided in her favour.

Some short time after this, Mrs. D was residing in L- Place, Brighton. A friend, Miss F———, usually shared her bedroom. Both were lying awake one morning, about eight o'clock, when Mrs. D, with some surprise, saw her friend rise up suddenly in bed, clasp her hands, and sink back on the pillow, apparently in a profound sleep. Strange as seemed the movement, it was so evident to Mrs. D that her friend was really in a tranquil slumber, that she made no effort to disturb her.

A minute had scarcely elapsed, when the door quietly opened, and there seemed to enter a figure which she was convinced was supernatural. She describes her feelings with careful minuteness. Her impressions, as she afterwards remembered them, had not the slightest admixture of fear. She was conscious of a reverential awe, such as might well possess the witness of a revelation so far removed from the accepted laws of nature-united with a feeling of intense curiosity as to the object of the apparition.

Gliding through the subdued light, the figure had all the appearance, gait, and manner of her deceased husband; until, passing through the room, and sinking down into an arm-chair that stood nearly opposite her bed, turned slightly aside, the figure presented its profile, and Mrs. D instantly recog nised her connexion, and late opponent, Mr. W. D— at that time residing in the north. No sooner had the mysterious visitor sat down, than he raised his hands clasped, as if in passionate entreaty-but, though the spectral lips