THE PAST.

We may dwell with regret upon time thrown away,
When youth and its follies are o'er;

We waken to memory many a day

may

Which, alas! can be ours no more:

And we frequently think could we live o'er again
The years we have heedlessly lost,

"Twere easy to shun the remorse and the pain
Which reflection is certain to cost.

Tho' futile and vain are the tears and regret,
Which we waste in lament for the past-
E'er the sun of existence for ever be set,

And death claims his victim at last-
Let us learn from the sorrow that shadows the soul,
As we sigh o'er the time that has flown,

To enforce a far wiser and better control
O'er the days we may yet call our own.

THE UNKNOWN VISITOR.

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ROCK."

R. H.

YEARS upon years have rolled away since the circumstance which I purpose to detail occurred, the remembrance of which has too often transformed what might otherwise have proved hours of uninterrupted happiness, into moments of painful retrospection, coupled with an indescribable dread of anticipated yet illdefined evil.

I am fully aware that in the opinion of others, what in my own mind was no optical illusion, will be considered as originating in a distempered fancy, or the morbid imagination of a too sensitive mind, while by some it will be attributed to a disordered intellect, acting on a frame greatly enfeebled through recent and acute suffering.

With such as may incline towards any of these conclusions, it is not for me to enter into controversy, since it were as unjust as futile to demand credence for assertions possessing nothing more substantial than repetition, as vouchers for their truth.

Neither do I claim implicit belief from those who, deeply immersed in the matter-of-fact occupations of the world, regard with feelings approximating to contempt, the detail of occurrences which, soaring beyond their intellectual sphere, are rejected as the vain chimera of an unsettled brain, or unhesitatingly denounced as the fanatical and unconnected ravings of a madman.

From these and such as these, I look for nothing beyond the faint smile of ineredulity, or the more irritating gesture of compassion. To attempt to lead them into a reciprocity of feeling with myself, were indeed a fruitless task; for, strong in the armour of their own wisdom, they mercilessly announce as ephemeral what I look upon as substantial truth. Let them pause ere they proclaim their unbelief, for a period may yet arrive, when, subjected to the same ordeal which I have encountered, their scepticisms may be cast down, and their opinions undergo a revulsion fixed as sudden.

To this brief narrative I have little to add, beyond a declaration of immutable faith in having witnessed the occurrences about to be recorded. Why those circumstances took place, and for what special cause I was brought into contact with the mysterious being, those who peruse these pages are as competent to decide on as myself. Had the but too well remembered interview owed its existence to a dream, or from any cause save an active and tangible presence, no reason could possibly exist for the overwhelming and dreaded forebodings ever present to my thoughts. Surely so powerful an influence over, otherwise, a strong mind, never could have been achieved through the crea tion of fancy? Impossible, for notwithstanding four and twenty winters have fleeted by since that memorable night, every circumstance, even to the most minute, is impressed on my memory as vividly as though the scene were but of yesterday's enacting.

On this point I shall write no more. Nothing can shake my confidence in the reality of what I witnessed, and to me, it matters not what opinion may be entertained by others. I select from a heap of old manuscripts the tale, as committed to

paper at the time, leaving my readers to credit or reject it, as, biassed by their own judgments, they may feel inclined.

It was towards the latter end of July, in the ever memorable year 1815, and somewhat approaching to evening, that I found myself propped up with many cushions by an open window in one of the most conspicuous and agreeable parts of Brussels, inhaling the cool breeze, so refreshing after the close atmosphere of a sultry summer day. Crowds of well-dressed persons thronged the streets, and the sweet tone of woman's laughter, mingling with the dulcet notes of music, added no trifling interest to the scene. The dark shadows creeping across my solitary chamber were gradually increasing as the night wore on, and the sparkling brilliancy of innumerable lamps starting into light from all quarters of the city, made the interior of my apartment appear more dismally sombre from the contrast without.

I was alone, and in the full enjoyment of one of those indistinct yet soothing reveries which, after a protracted and severe illness, cheers the enfeebled mind of the languid sufferer, instilling into his yet dreamy and half recovered recollection the many blessings the world he had so nearly quitted, still held forth for his gratification and delight.

The cause of my imprisonment was justly attributed to a gratuitous souvenir in the shape of a leaden bullet, which, through the instrumentality of a French grenadier, was transferred from his musket to my frame, and that moreover, without the slightest intimation on his part of the obligation about to be conferred.

To remove the disagreeable guest the surgeons forthwith set to work with all imaginable diligence, cutting and probing in every direction, and so zealously did they prosecute their labours, that had they continued their laudable occupation much longer, 1 am confident they would have cut me in two.

Things were in this state, when my servant, sensible that the severe treatment would speedily afford them opportunity of a more perfect examination of my body, without the slightest inconvenience to myself, wisely hinted the possibility of the ball having traversed the skin, and taken its departure by the identical aperture where it entered.

This was certainly throwing a new light on the matter, but as the doctors could not, by the most ingenious torture, discover the object sought, they readily concurred in the view taken by my domestic, and again turned to their labour, but in this instance with the laudable intention of healing all the wounds and gashes they had so liberally inflicted.

From the moment of release from the surgeon's knife, I began to improve rapidly, both in health and spirits, and on the

evening already mentioned, I felt so much better that I insisted on my servant's quitting me for a time, to enjoy a release from the irksomeness of confinement which he had voluntarily undergone since I received my wound.

Propped up in my easy chair, I gazed listlessly on the crowd below; the promenade was covered with a dense mass of people; the indistinct hum of thousands rose on the still air, and leaning back on the cushions placed for my support, I gave way to all those exuberant, though ideal anticipations of the future, which in the glad days of youth are so readily summoned, for no other purpose, it would seem, than for a maturer age to crumble and demolish.

Weak, attenuated, and helpless as I was, I cannot call to mind moments of more unalloyed pleasure than glided on by that old window in my drawing room at Brussels.

True it is, my vision rested on the motley group beneath. My ears drank in the honied sounds of mirth which on all sides broke the stillness of the night, and I felt grateful, truly grateful, for the refreshing breeze that fanned my pale and throbbing temples. Yet my thoughts were far away.

In imagination, I was once more within the walls of that ancient building where first I saw the light. The moment I had so long yearned for-the wished-for hour of return to my be. loved home-had arrived. I felt the affectionate pressure of my induigent father's grasp, as he stood upon the threshold of that well remembered spot, and again bade me welcome to his roof. The features of the old domestics beamed with pleasure as I returned their kindly greeting; the hall, with all its many trophies of sylvan warfare-the ancient pictures gazing from their antique frames, rose vividly to view. The favoured dogs who in their pampered indulgence were wont to dispute the very fireside with their master, with many a rough caress and gambol of delight sprung to greet my presence.

And was there not one more form, one other beaming countenance, to complete the scene of happiness amid that beloved group Was there not one gentle voice beside to lisp, in all the sincerity of a pure and affectionate heart, a scarcely audible thanksgiving for my safe return? But why harrow up the very soul with these too maddening recollections? Where are now the silver hairs of my fond and doating parent? where the various members of our once happy circle? where may we now expect to find that more than angelic being, whose radiant beauty shed a halo of happiness around all who came within the influence of her power, and whose undeviating rectitude, and unobtrusive piety, caused her to be regarded more as an essence from a higher sphere, than as a being of this sinful and polluted world?

Where are they now? Let him who would have that question answered go to that once proud edifice, and view the crumbling stones shunned and neglected even by the houseless wanderer. The feathered choristers that were wont to cluster amid the foliage of the surrounding shrubberies, and usher in the morn with their joyous hymns of praise, have long since departed for other homes, and all around is silent as the grave. Each sign of life has passed away from that unhallowed spot; the very birds of darkness and ill omen spread wide their wings, and turn in terror from the accursed pile-while the wind, as it shrilly whistles through the decaying corridors, seems to bemoan the fate of those who once dwelt within the tottering and now deserted walls.

I was aroused from the reverie into which I had fallen, by hearing my name several times repeated from the street, and on leaning over the balustrade to ascertain who my acquaintance might be, I observed a figure gazing upwards, as if in expectation of an answer to his summons.

On observing the desired effect, the object slightly waved his hand in acknowledgment, and having crossed the portal he immediately ascended the stairs. In a few seconds, a slight knock at my chamber door intimated the arrival of my guest, when, without waiting for permission, he slowly walked into the room.

I have before stated the apartment to have been perfectly dark, and it has ever since appeared to me an unfathomable mystery by what means I was enabled to scan the features of my visitor, amid the shade of that sombre room, with as much accuracy as though our meeting had taken place under the bright canopy of heaven, at noon-day. Yet at that moment the incongruity of the clearness with which I noted every lineament of his form, surrounded as we were by profound darkness, never for an instant occupied my mind.

I must however acknowledge that the presence of the stranger created a very different sensation from what might have been anticipated from the appearance of a casual visitor. I knew not why, yet a predominant feeling closely tantamount to awe, superseded my previous cogitations, and as I kept my eyes rivetted as by enchantment on the singular features before me, I vainly strove to shake off the thick coming fancies rapidly clouding my brain. Yet there was not any thing actually remarkable in the outward appearance of the new comer; nevertheless, the sensation which enthralled me could in no degree whatever be assimilated to any thing I had previously encountered. I felt a dull weight of oppression at my breast, as though my breathing was arrested in its course. A cold moisture suffused my limbs and forehead, and though I would have