Very good! Very excellent good! i' faith, a most rare device. I warrant you, few modern poets would have hit on so poetical a way of describing the influence of the sun and moon upon the tides. They would have regarded it as an unpoetical subject; not so did Chaucer, our most poetical philosopher, and philosophical poet. He had fathomed the vast profundities of nature, and knew that there was poetry in everything, if you did but go deep enough. Oh! that Euclid had been Chaucer! or Chaucer, Euclid! then had the parallelogram become poetical, and the rhomboid romantic! Time and tide, however, wait for no man, particularly for lovers; with whom, as Shakspeare says, "Time gallops withal." Not so wisely, either, did Chaucer write, in another passage, where he speaks of bodies falling through the air with a swiftness proportioned to their respective gravities; an error which in later years Galileo had some trouble to controvert. He went so far as to demonstrate its futility practically, by publicly letting fall a light and heavy body, from the top of a tower, which, of course, both arrived at the ground at the same time. He could not, however, convince the schoolmen any more by his practice than by his arguments; nor do we think they would have yielded, if he had taken their brains, the lightest, and their writings, the heaviest, of all bodies, and precipitated them together from the highest place he could find. Fain would we pursue our commentaries upon Galileo, Kepler, Copernicus, Barrow, Newton, Stone, Descartes, and the ever-memorable Simpson, over whose version of Euclid's Porisms we have pored so often and so ineffectually. But we have already exceeded our limits, and it behoves us only to recommend the book whose title heads this article. Mr. Potts has performed his thankless task with infinite care and ability; and to those who, after passing through Euclid, have felt the want of some further propositions, to be proved from the principles already laid down, his geometrical exercises will be both welcome and beneficial.

"My amusements being interrupted by this catastrophe, I rose and looked out of the window. The night was clear but cold, some stars were visible in the zenith, and the thin thread of a crescent moon was just sinking above Westminster, the dark piles of which were faintly visible to the west. It was too near to the horizon, however, to throw any light on the waters of the river, which, ebbing with the retiring tide, rolled beneath the window, black and murmuring. Here and there a light twinkling through the vague masses of shadow to the south, cast its quivering reflection on the stream. Did it indicate the abode of virtuous industry toiling late for an honourable support, or

the haunt of villany and vice? did it burn by the sick-bed of one taking leave of the world, or in the study of some midnight student, outwatching the bear, and wasting life in the hope of future fortune or fame? Who could say? yet my eye rested with pleasure on those bright and cheering mementos of human labours and human existence, which sparkled through the surrounding silence and gloom, like those ever-burning cressets, which the ancients suspended in their tombs, as if to indicate that a bright and ethereal spark survived amidst the dreary stillness and corruption of death.

Methought, as I watched those tiny rays, and while the chimes of St. Martin's were striking the third quarter past eleven, my eyes rested on some dark object which came floating towards me down the river. It resembled a boat, but the extreme indistinctness of the outline, occasioned by the deep shadow in which the surface of the river at that point lay, prevented me from distinguishing what it contained. But as it crossed the long flickering line of light, produced by one of those lamps on the other side, I saw by the momentary eclipse of the ray on the water, that some object stood erect in the boat with an oar in its hand. It did not appear to be rowing, but allowed the boat to drift, impelled by the mere sweep of the retiring tide. It came nearer and nearer, and though I could not distinguish a single feature, I saw there were many others in the boat besides the waterman, among whom a low whispering conversation, of which nothing reached my ears, appeared to be carried on. At last the boat stopped beneath the window, the waterman looked up, put his fingers to his mouth, and whistled. The sound echoed loudly on the water, and died away.

"Could I be deceived? It seemed as if behind me-in the very room, the signal was repeated faintly, as if the person who answered the challenge were unable to join his lips perfectly, or as if the buccinatory muscles of the cheek had not been in working condition. The sound emitted seemed like a gust of wind rushing through an imperfectly closed window. My eyes involuntarily travelled towards that part of the room from which the sound had appeared to come. The fire, refreshed by a late supply, had again revived sufficiently to enable me to see distinctly enough every object in the apartment. All was profoundly still. In the corner to which I looked, stood the lay figure, still covered with its cloth, motionless as a statue. It seemed to be precisely in the position I had last seen it, with its arms a little elevated, though I could not distinctly trace through the superincumbent drapery, the precise situation of its hand. I felt ashamed of my momentary weakness; I turned again to the window, but the boat on river was gone.

the

"Meantime, the appearance of the night had changed. The moon was down, the wind blew colder from the water, stirring up the fire in fitful gusts, and some heavy rain-drops, which pattered upon my face, announcing an approaching storm, obliged me to close the window. I felt somewhat uneasy at the prospect of being detained by the rain, but trusting that, from its suddenness, it would soon pass over, and that it would, in all probability, accelerate Chesterton's return, I drew my chair close to the table, and endeavoured to amuse myself during the interval in the best way I could. I will try my hand on an

apparition

scene myself,' said I-' this is the very moment for inspiration;'-so lighting the candles, and taking a portcrayon and a sheet of paper from the adjoining table, I brought out the lay figure from its corner, placed it in the attitude I required, and began to draw.

"It was the very sketch which, a little while ago, attracted your atI had succeeded, as I thought, pretty fairly in catching the general outline, and had begun to mark in a little the shadows of the head, when twelve began to strike upon the great bell of St. Paul's. It seemed to me as if at the first stroke the drapery of my model was a little agitated, but seeing that the wind was roaring down the chimney in sudden gusts, and filling the room at times with smoke, I attributed the movement to a passing current of air. Conceive my astonishment, however, when, as the last stroke still vibrated on the tongue of the bell, the figure laid aside the white cloth with which it was covered, hung it carefully over a screen, took down my friend's Montero cap from the top of the easel, placed it on its head, and, bowing to me with great gravity, as if apologising for being under the necessity of interrupting my studies, walked slowly out of the door, and disappeared.

"I have some difficulty, at this distance of time, in recalling to mind the precise effect which this singular apparition produced upon me; indeed, my sensations at the moment must have been blended and confused, yet, so far as I can remember, my feelings were actually more of astonishment than of terror. My eyes dazzled as the creature rose and put on its cap; I sat petrified for an instant, while it stalked across the room, and I could hear distinctly the beating of my heart against my ribs. But this soon vanished; perhaps the wine I had drunk may have steadied my nerves a little, perhaps the very suddenness with which the whole scene had passed before me, left me no time to be fully sensible of its terrors. But so it was. As I heard the street door close, I rose from my chair; an irresistible force seemed to impel me forth in pursuit of the figure;-I determined to see where this midnight pilgrimage was to end, and seizing my hat, which lay beside me on the table, I hurried down stairs, as if under the influence of some overpowering dream.

"When I reached the street, I could just, by the dim light, discern the figure as it strode along, about twenty yards before me. There was nobody moving in the street, save the phantom and myself, yet it stole cautiously along by the walls, with all the retiring modesty of a footpad. I was able, however, to trace its progress all along by the glance of the lamps upon the scarlet cap as it passed, and a certain rusty and creaking sound which accompanied its movements, as if the joints did not play with all the facility it could have wished.

"It made towards the north, avoiding the more public streets, and threading the bye-lanes and dark alleys with the dexterity of a hackney coachman. Occasionally some passenger, attracted by the uncouth appearance of its head-dress, would stare at it for a moment as it stalked past him; a watchman, as we turned the corner of Coventgarden market, misled by the strange creaking and rattling of its limbs, sprung his rattle, and began to call out fire; and one of the new police of the B division, catching a glimpse of its mask, made a blow at it as we plunged into the gloomy region of the Seven Dials. I saw him

start, however, and recoil with precipitation, when he heard the sound which followed the stroke. It was exactly as if he had smashed a shelf of crockery-ware in a potter's shop.

"Meantime, the figure kept on its way, still gliding closely by the eaves, and now and then eyeing, with a cautious glance, the occasional passengers whom we encountered in those nameless streets. Once, indeed, I thought,—though it may have been fancy, that I saw the creature plunge its hand into the pocket of a man, who came reeling along the pavement, probably returning from some haunt of vice or infamy? But it drew it out again immediately, shook its head with a melancholy gesture, and resumed its way.

"I had now lost all notion in what part of London we were, or in what direction we were steering, so dark and tempestuous grew the night, so intricate and perplexed the alleys and courts through which we dived. The lamps, with the exception here and there of one more sheltered from the wind and driving rain, were extinguished by the storm. I saw enough, however, to perceive that we were travelling the lowest haunts of depravity, the very ninth circle of the London Inferno. The sights and sounds were precisely those which the gloomy pencil of Dante has accumulated, even to the sound of hands together smote,' though here, to be sure, they were smote in pugilistic conflict, rather than remorse. Often from cellars, which seemed to yawn under the pavement, like so many entrances to the lower regions, would ascend the roar of drunken revelry, or obscene song, the most fearful execrations from voices, male and female, the noise of subterranean scuffles, groans, and cries for help; while ever and anon, our path would be crossed by some loathsome victim of vice, staggering towards her home, or laying her houseless head in some doorway or passage for the night. I knew not what to make of the conduct of my skeleton guide. As he passed the door of some of those fearful recesses from whence the sounds proceeded, he would pause, look wistfully down the trap stairs which gave access to those lower deeps, as if anxious to join their inmates, then as if some secret and superior force, powerful as the new police itself, impelled him forward, he set his joints in order, and

'moved on.'

"At length even these sad tokens of human existence and crime disappeared. The streets seemed to widen, the houses to grow larger. Through the heavy rain which still fell, I thought I could occasionally perceive vacancies in the line of houses, as if we were approaching the country. The want of the lamps, however, rendered it impossible for me to recognise the spot on which we were. At last the roaring of the wind in the branches of a tree, which seemed to grow close to the pavement, convinced me that we must have approached the suburbs of London. The figure now appeared to be moving towards one solitary lamp a little a-head of us, which like the last lamp of winter, stood burning alone, after the extinction of its companions. He reached it and stopped. When I came within a yard or two, I did the same.

"At that moment another whistle, which seemed the very counterpart of what I had heard from the waterman on the river, echoed shrilly as if by my side. The creature started, turned round, and making me a low bow as if to thank me for my escort, it put into my hands the

Montero cap, with a gesture expressive of gratitude for the temporary accommodation it had afforded to its cranium. The signal was repeated as if with impatience; and putting his hand in a significant way round its left ear, like a man adjusting his cravat, it gave a strange gambol with its legs as if commencing a pas seul, and disappeared.

66

"A gust of wind coming howling from the west, at the same time extinguished the lamp, and left me in utter darkness. I knew not to which side I ought to turn, in order to regain my lodgings. I could not venture to stir from the spot, lest I should break my neck over some unknown obstruction, or drop 'plump down' into some of those subterranean hells I had witnessed in passing. To my inexpressible relief, however, I saw a light approaching from the opposite side. It was the watchman.

"Where in heaven's name am I?' said I, as the watchman, after turning the light of his lantern on my countenance, and satisfying himself that I was no thief but a true man, offered to assist me homeward. What strange quarter of the town is this?'

"This?' said the watchman; why this, is Tyburn turnpike, and that there stone you see under that lamp, as was blown out just as I came up, is the old place where the gallows used to stand.'

"I knew not exactly what followed. I have an indistinct recollection, as if the unnatural state of excitation, which had hitherto kept me up, failed me at this moment, and I sank down without further consciousness. When I came to myself, I was lying on Chesterton's bed, the bright beams of a morning sun in February were beginning to illuminate the apartment, and in a chair by the fireside I saw my friend reading the Morning Post,' and waiting seemingly with some anxiety for breakfast. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. The first thing I saw was the Montero cap, placed as it had been the evening before, on the top of the easel, and in the corner stood the lay-figure in its usual position, looking as innocent as possible of its street-walking gambols of the preceding night.

666

'My dear fellow,' said Chesterton, rising and coming up to my bed-side, I am glad to see you have come to your right senses again. You must have been conspicuously drunk last night. I was very late in returning to my lodgings, and when I came in then, you were at full length on the floor. I could not think of sending you home in such a tempest; so, without taking off your clothes, I put you into bed, and you have never opened your eyes till this moment.

"My clothes,' said I, 'why, they must have been wet through with the rain of last night.'

"Not a stitch of them,' said Chesterton. 'But how, pray, should they be wet? Though you moistened your clay pretty well, there was no occasion for moistening your coat too.'

"It was with some difficulty I could bring myself to communicate to Chesterton the strange adventure of the night; but seeing that he was determined to set down the whole affair to the score of intoxication, a point on which I felt a little sore, I thought I was bound, in justice to myself, to set him right in this particular. I began, and he listened at first with an incredulous smile, but his interest increased as the narrative proceeded; the smile was succeeded by an air of deep attention,