had been endeavouring to walk off a little of my anxiety by a tour of the outer circle in the Regent's-park, and, hearing a footstep close behind me, turned round and beheld a venerable looking old gentleman, dressed entirely in green, with a green cravat tied round his neck, and wearing a low-crowned hat upon his head, from under which his silver hair flowed loosely over his shoulders. He seemed to have his eyes fixed on me when for a moment I looked round at him; and he slackened his pace (however much he had previously quickened it to reach his then position relative to me), so as to keep nearly at the same distance from me as he was when I first noticed him.

Nothing is more worrying to a man, or to one so strangely excited as I then was, more irritating, than the constant pat, pat, of footsteps following him. After I had proceeded at my usual pace for about ten minutes, and still found the old gentleman behind me, I reduced my rate of going, in order to allow my annoyance to pass me. Not he; he equally reduced his rate of going.

Thus vexed, and putting faith in inferior age and superior strength, I proceeded more rapidly; still the old gentleman was close upon me; until before I reached the gates of Park-crescent, leading to Portland-place, I had almost broken into a canter, with as little success as attended my other evolutions. I therefore resumed my original step, and thinking to effect by stratagem what force could not accomplish, I turned abruptly out of Portland-place into Duchess-street-the old gentleman was at my heels: I passed the chapel into Portland-street-for a moment I lost sight of him; but before I had reached the corner of Margaret-street, there he was again. At that time I occupied lodgings in the house of two maiden sisters in Great Marlborough-street, and considering that the police-office in that neighbourhood would render me any aid I might require to rid myself of my new acquaintance, should he prove troublesome, I determined to run for my own port at all events.

I crossed Oxford-street, and in order to give myself another chance of escape, darted down Blenheim-steps and along the street of that name; but the old man's descent was as rapid as mine; and happening, as I passed the museum and dissecting rooms of the eminent anatomist Brookes, to turn my head, my surprise was more than ever excited by seeing my venerable friend actually dancing in a state of ecstasy along the side of the dead wall which encloses so many subjects for contemplation. At this moment I resolved to stop and accost him, rather than make the doorway of my own residence the arena of a discussion.

"Sir," said I, turning short round, "you, will forgive my addressing you, but it is im possible for me to affect ignorance that I am

for some reason the object of your pursuit. I am near home, if you have any communica→ tion to make, or desire any information from me, I would beg you to speak now.”

"You are perfectly right, Sir," said the old gentleman, "I do wish to speak to you ;and you, although perhaps not at this mo ment aware of it, are equally desirous of speaking to me. You are now going into your lodgings in Marlborough-street, and as soon as you shall have divested yourself of your coat, and enveloped yourself in that blue silk gown which you ordinarily wear, and have taken off your boots, and put your feet into those morocco slippers which were made for you last March by Meyer and Miller, you purpose drinking some of the claret which you bought last Christmas of Henderson and Son, of Davies-street, Berkeley-square, first mixing it with water; and immediately after you will apply yourself to the useless and unprofitable studies which have occupied you during the last five or six years."

"Sir," said I, trembling at what I heard, "how or by what means have you become possessed of these particulars, I

"No matter," interrupted my friend; “if you are disposed to indulge me with your society for an hour or so, and bestow upon me a bottle of the wine in question, I will explain myself. There, Sir," continued he, "you need not hesitate; I see you have already made up your mind to offer me the rights of hospitality; and since I know the old ladies of your house are advocates for early hours and quiet visitors, I will conform in all respects to their wishes, and your con venience."

Most true, indeed, was it, that I had determined, coute qui coute, to give my new-old friend an invitation and a bottle of wine; and before he had concluded his observations we were at the door of my house, and in a few. minutes more, although my servant was absent without leave, we were seated at a table. on which forthwith were placed the desired refreshments.

My friend, who continued to evince the most perfect knowledge of all my private concerns, and all my most intimate connexions, became evidently exhilarated by the claret; and in the course of one of the most agreeable conversations I had ever partici pated, he related numerous anecdotes of the highest personages in the country, with all of whom he seemed perfectly intimate. His manner of telling his stories afforded internal evidence of their accuracy, and was so captivating, that I thought him, without exceptin, the pleasantest old gentleman I had ever encountered.

It was now getting dark, the windows of my drawing-room open, the sashes up, and the watchman's cry of past ten o'clock," was the first announcement to me of the rapid

At this word my friend appeared seriously angry, and I heard him mutter the word "cannibalism." It was then quite dark, and as I looked at his faee, I could discern no features, but only two brilliant orbs of bright fire glittering like stars; those were his eyes, the light from which was reflected on his high cheek bones and the sides of his nose, leaving all the rest of his face nearly black. It was then I first heard a thumping against the back of his chair, like a gentleman switching his cane;" I began to wish he would go.

"Sir," said the old gentleman," any disguise with me is useless; I must take my leave; but you must not imagine that this visit was unpremeditated, or that our meeting was accidental: you last night, perhaps unconsciously, invoked my aid in the pursuit to which you have so long devoted yourself. The desire of your heart is known to me; and I know that the instant I leave you, you will return to your fascinating study, vainly to seek that which you so constantly languish to possess. "I desire," I was going to 66 say, nothing;" but the pale fire of his dreadful eyes turned suddenly to a blood-red colour, and glistened even more brightly than before, while the thumping against the back of his chair was louder than ever.

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"You shall possess it," interrupted my friend."Who I am, or what, matters little; the power you seek is wholly in my gift. You last night, as I have just said, invoked me you shall have it upon two conditions." "Name them, Sir," said I.

"The first is, that however well you know what is to happen to others, you must remain in ignorance about yourself, except when connected with them."

"To that," said I, "I will readily

agree."

་

"The other is, that whatever may be the Conduct you adopt in consequence of possess

ing the power of knowing the thoughts of others, you are never to reveal the fact that you actually do possess such a power; the moment you admit yourself master of this supernatural faculty, you lose it."

"Agreed, Sir," said I; "but are these all the conditions ?" "All," said my friend. To-morrow morning, when you awake, the power will be your own; and so, Sir, I wish you a very good night."

"But, Sir," said I, anxious to be better assured of the speedy fulfilment of the wish of my heart (for such indeed it was), “may I have the honour of knowing your name and address."

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"Ha, ha, ha!" said the old gentleman: my naine and address-Ha, ha, ha!-my name is pretty familiar to you, young gentleman; and as for my address, I dare say you will find your way to me, some day or another, and so once more good night."

Saying which he descended the stairs and quitted the house, leaving me to surmise who my extraordinary visitor could be; I never knew; but I recollect, that after he was gone, I heard one of the old ladies scolding a servant girl for wasting so many matches in lighting the candles, and making such a terrible smell of brimstone in the house.

I was now all anxiety to get to bed, not because I was sleepy, but because it seemed to me as if going to bed would bring me nearer to the time of getting up, when I should be master of the miraculous power which had been promised me: I rang the bell-my servant was still out-it was unusual for him to be absent at so late an hour. I waited until the clock struck eleven, but he came not; and resolving to reprimand him in the morning, I retired to rest.

Contrary to my expectation, and, as it seemed to me, the ordinary course of nature, considering the excitement under which I was labouring, I had scarcely laid my head on my pillow before I dropped into a profound slumber, from which I was only aroused by my servant's entrance to my room. The instant I awoke I sat up in bed, and began to reflect on what had passed, and for a moment to doubt whether it had not been all a dream. However it was day-light; the period had arrived when the proof of my newly acquired power might be made.

"Barton," said I to my man, "why were you not at home last night?"

"I had to wait, Sir, nearly three hours," he replied," for an answer to the letter which you sent to Major Sheringham."

"That is not true," said I; and to my infinite surprise, I appeared to recollect a series of occurrences of which I never had previously heard ; "you went to see your sweetheart, Betsy Collyer, at Camberwell, and took her to a tea garden, and gave her cakes and cider, and saw her home again : you mean to do exactly the same thing on

Sunday; and to-morrow you mean to ask me for your quarter's wages, although not due till Monday, in order to buy her a new shawl."

The man stood aghast: it was all true, I was quite as much surprised as the man. "Sir," said Barton, who had served me for seven years without having once been found fault with, "I see you think me unworthy of your confidence; you could not have known this, if you had not watched, and followed, and overheard me and my sweetheart: my character will get me through the world without being looked after: I can stay with you no longer; you will please, Sir, to provide yourself with another servant."

"But Barton," said I, "I did not follow or watch you, I—.”

"I beg your pardon, Sir," he replied, "it is not for me to contradict; but you'll forgive me, Sir, I would rather go-I must go."

At this moment I was on the very point of easing his mind, and retaining my faithful servant by a disclosure of my power, but it was yet too new to be parted with; so I affected an anger I did not feel, and told him he might go where he pleased. I had, how ever, ascertained that the old gentleman had not deceived me in his promises; and elated with the possession of my extraordinary faculty, I hurried the operation of dressing, and before I had concluded it, my ardent friend Sheringham was announced; he was waiting in the breakfast room; at the same moment a note from the lovely Fanny Hayward was delivered to me-from the divine girl who, in the midst of all my scientific abstraction, could "chain my worldly feelings for a moment."

"Sheringham, my dear fellow," said I, as I advanced to welcome him, "what makes you so early a visitor this morning?"

"An anxiety," replied Sheringham, "to tell you that my uncle, whose interest I endeavoured to procure for you, in regard to the appointment for which you expressed a desire, has been compelled to recommend a relation of the marquess; this gives me real pain, but I thought it would be best to put you out of suspense as soon as possible.""

"Major Sheringham,” said I, drawing myself up coldly, "if this matter concern you so deeply, as you seem to imply that does, might I ask why you so readily agreed to your uncle's proposition, or chimed in with his suggestion, to bestow the appointment on this relation of the marquess, in order that you might, in return for it, obtain the promotion for which you are so anxious?"

"My dear fellow," said Sheringham, evidently confused, "I-I-never chimed in; my uncle certainly pointed out the possibility to which you allude, but that was merely contingent upon what he could not refuse to do."

already secured for you the promotion, and you will be gazetted for the lieutenant-colonelcy of your regiment on Tuesday. I am not to be told that you called at the Horse Guards in your way to your uncle's yesterday, to ascertain the correctness of the report of the vacancy which you had received from your friend Macgregor; or that you, elated, by the prospect before you, were the person in fact, to suggest the arrangement which has been made, and promise your uncle to smooth me over' for the present."

"Sir," said Sheringham, "where you picked up this intelligence I know not; but I must say that such mistrust, after years of undivided intimacy, is not becoming, or consistent with the character which I hitherto supposed you to possess. When, by sinister means, the man we look upon as a friend descends to be a spy upon our actions, confidence is at an end, and the sooner our intercourse ceases the better. Without some

such conduct, how could you become possessed of the details upon which you have grounded your opinion of my conduct?"

"I-," and here again was a temptation to confess and fall; but I had not the courage to do it. "Suffice it, Major Sheringham, to say, that I know; and moreover I know, that when you leave me, your present irritation will prompt you to go to your unele, and check the disposition he feels at this moment to serve me."

"This is too much, Sir," said Sheringham; "this must be our last interview, unless indeed your unguarded conduct towards me, and your intemperate language concerning me, may render one more meeting necessary; and so, Sir, here ends our acquaintance."

Saying which, Sheringham, whose friendship even to my enlightened eye was nearly as sincere as any other man's, quitted my room, fully convinced of my meanness, and unworthiness; my heart sunk within me when I heard the door close upon him for the last time. I now possessed the power I had so long desired, and in less than an hour had lost a valued friend, and a faithful servant. Nevertheless Barton had told me a falsehood, and Sheringham was gazetted on the Tuesday night.

I proceeded to open Fanny Hayward's note; it contained an invitation to dinner with her mother, and a request that I would accompany them to the Opera, it being the last night of the last extra subscription. I admired Fanny-nay, I almost loved her; and when I gazed on her with rapture, I traced in the mild and languishing expression of her blue eye, approbation of my suit, and pleasure in my praise. I took up my pen to answer her billet, and intuitively and instinctively wrote as follows:-

"Dear Miss Hayward,

"I should have much pleasure in accepting your kind invitation for this evening, if it

bour's weak point, and make it subject matter of mirth in his evening's conversation. I saw a viscount help his father out of his carriage with every mark of duty and veneration, and knew that he was actually languishing for the earldom, and estates of the venerable parent of whose health he was apparently taking so much care. At Howell and James's I saw more than I could tell, if I had ten times the space afforded me that I have, and I concluded my tour by dropping in at the National Gallery, where the ladies and gentlemen seemed to prefer nature to art, and were actively employed in looking at the pictures and thinking of themselves.

Oh! it was a strange time then, when every man's heart was open to me, and I could sit and see, and hear all that was going on, and know the workings of the inmost feelings of my associates: however, I must not detain the reader with reflections.

On this memorable first day of my potency, I proceeded after dinner to the Opera, to satisfy myself of the justness of my accusation against Fanny. I looked up to their box, and immediately behind my once singleminded girl, sat Sir Henry Witherington himself, actually playing with the identical fan, of which I had instinctively and intuitively written without ever having seen it before. There was an ease and confidence about the fellow, and he was so graceful and good-looking, and Fanny gazed at him so long and so frequently, that I could bear it no more, and thinking that, after our long intimacy, my letter of the morning might have gone for nothing, I proceeded to their box, determined to rally. Of Sir Henry's thoughts about me, I was utterly ignorant, for he did not even know my name, so that I could have shared none of his consideration. I was aware, however, that the mother was downright angry, and Fanny just so much piqued as to make our reconciliation a work of interest and amusement.

I certainly did not perfectly appreciate Mrs. Hayward's feelings towards me, for when, as usual, I entered her curtained territory, her glance was instantly averted from me to Fanny, who looked grave, and I found was seriously annoyed at my appearance however, I knew I had influence, and with my commanding power I resolved to remain. After a pause during which Sir Henry eyed me, and the ladies alternately, he inquired of Mrs. Hayward if I were a friend of hers.

"Assuredly not, Sir Henry," said Mrs. Hayward; "I did know the person, but his conduct rendered it impossible that our acquaintance should continue."

Fanny's heart began to melt: she would have caught me by the hand, and bid me stay. I relied on this, and moved not.

· Pray, Madam," said Sir Henry, "is

this person's presence here disagreeable to you ?"

"Particularly so, Sir Henry," said the old lady, with all the malice of offended dignity. "Then, Sir," said Sir Henry, "you must leave the box."

"Must I indeed, Sir," said I, becoming in turn much more angry than the old lady. "Pray! pray!" said Fanny.

"Be quiet child," said her obdurate mother. "Yes, Sir," said Sir Henry, "must! and if this direction is not speedily obeyed, the box-keeper shall be called to remove you."

"Sir Henry Witherington," said I, "the society you are in, seals my lips, and binds my hands. I will leave the box, on condition that for one moment only, you will accompany me."

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Certainly, Sir," said Sir Henry, and in an instant we were both in the passage.

I drew a card from my case, and putting it into his hand, said-" Sir Henry Witherington, your uncalled-for interference of to-night must be explained; here is the card of one who has no other feeling for your insolence but that of the most ineffable contempt." Saying which, I walked out of the Operahouse, and he rejoined the ladies, who were in a state of serious agitation-Fanny on my account, and her mother on account of her.

This affair ended, I returned once more to bed, and once more fell into a deep slumber, from which I was aroused by Barton, who informed me that Colonel Mac-Manton was waiting to speak a few words to me in the drawing-room.

Of course I knew the object of his visit ; he came to invite me to Chalk-farm, where probably he had already ordered pistols for two, and breakfast for four; and I hastened down stairs, rather anxious than otherwise to exhibit my person in the field of honour, that I might at once become the friend of the brave, and the idol of the fair.

I entered the drawing-room, and found my yisitor waiting.

"Sir," said the Colonel, "I imagine, after what past last night between you and my friend, Sir Henry Witherington, I need hardly announce the object of my visit. I will not offend you by mentioning the alternative of a meeting, but merely request you to refer me to some friend of yours, with whom I may make the necessary arrangements as speedily as possible."

"Sir," replied I, speaking as it were not of myself, I must decline a meeting with Sir Henry Witherington, and I tell you in the outset of the business, that no power will induce me to lend myself to any arrangement that may lead to one."

"This is a most extraordinary resolution, Sir," said the Colonel. "I can assure you, although I have stated the matter as delicately as I could, that Sir Henry will accept of no