help. Again he fell asleep, and dreamed that his friend stood all bloody beside his bed, and said to him: “Though you would not come to help me, at least avenge my death. The landlord of the inn where you left me intends to carry my body out of the town concealed in a load of straw.” The young man was so impressed by this dream, that he dressed himself and went to the city-gates, where he remained until they were opened. Shortly afterwards he saw a cartload of straw approaching, and in the driver he recognised the landlord of the inn where he had left his friend. He appealed to the guard at the gates, told them of his suspicions, and without much trouble induced them to search the straw; and there they found the dead body of his friend, whom the landlord confessed he had murdered.
The last dream of this kind I shall quote is related, I think, in a “History of the County of Chester.” I am forced to give it from memory, as I cannot refer to the volume at this moment. I omit the names, for the sufficient reason that I cannot remember them, though they are given in the history referred to above. The narrative is somewhat long, but is to this effect. A man had living with him a young woman, who acted as his housekeeper. On the understanding that she was to be his wife, an evil intimacy sprang up between them, and certain consequences arose which made her very earnest in her persuasions that he should fulfil his promise. Upon some pretence or other he sent her to a place at some distance, with one Mark Sharp, who killed her as they were crossing a moor, and threw her body down the shaft of a disused mine. A little after this a miller saw, or imagined he saw, the apparition of the young woman standing before him, with her hair hanging about her shoulders and dreadfully gashed in the head. She told him that she had been murdered by Mark Sharp at the instance of her master. He did not do anything in consequence of this apparition on the first occasion; but when it appeared to him again, and threatened him if he did not go to the magistrate and inform him of what he had seen, he went to the justice, and related the whole affair. The man was apprehended and examined, and while under examination it was noticed that the justice became deadly pale, the cause of which was stated afterwards,—namely, that he himself saw, standing in court, the apparition, exactly as it appeared to the miller.
The dreams related above are, there is no denying, very wonderful; and they are only a few of a very large number that might be given, if it were worth while, or space would allow of their publication. But when we reflect on the small number of these in proportion to the myriads which are experienced nightly, the wonder is rather that so few of them have anything like a fulfilment. That mysterious part of our being which communicates activity to the brain never sleeps, and gives rise to incessant dreaming; so that no man passes a night without awaking to a consciousness that his brain has been busy with events which he can seldom recall in his waking hours. The most curious part of the phenomenon is, that the man who never thinks—that is to say, the man who never carries out a train of thought on any subject—has usually short and broken dreams, which change rapidly from one subject to another; whereas the man who is in the habit of reasoning with himself at any length, or of exercising his imagination in the invention of fictions when awake, commonly has dreams of wonderful method and regularity.
THE MAIDEN OF LÜNEBURG.
In the spring of 1813 the French occupied a large portion of the north of Germany. The spirit of the nation was roused against the invaders, and a determined effort was made to drive them from the country. Allied with those German powers who dared to oppose Napoleon, Russian troops fought side by side with the soldiers of the Fatherland against the hated French.
Early in March, the Russian Colonel Tettenborn was sent from Berlin to expel the French from Hamburg and to protect Lübeck. He found the enemy retreating towards the west, and that, among other places, they had evacuated the little town of Lüneburg. Tettenborn continued his march. Meantime the French General Morand, reinforced by St. Cyr, turned back to Lüneburg. The Allies sent General von Dörnberg to protect the town. Within three hours’ march of Lüneburg, he learnt that Morand had re-occupied the place the preceding day with a force of thrice his strength.
Von Dörnberg waited a day for reinforcements, and advanced on the 2nd of April, at noon, to the attack. Believing the assaulting column stronger than it really was, Morand hastily retreated from the town by one issue—the New Gate—as the Allies entered it by another. The opposing forces encountered in the streets, and after a sanguinary skirmish the French were driven out. After the fight Morand learned the real weakness of the victors, and determined to retrieve his error. Detaching portions of his force to penetrate the town at other assailable points, with gallant but rash impetuosity, the French commander in person attacked the New Gate at three in the afternoon. The post was defended by Russian and Prussian guns, with a few Cossacks, while Prussian Jägers and Fusiliers were thrown out in advance.
The engagement was hotly sustained, and the Gate gallantly held. Though the Prussian loss was heavy, the French made no sensible impression for upwards of an hour. After that time the fire of the defenders began to slacken, then nearly ceased. A murmur ran through the ranks. Their ammunition was fast becoming exhausted, and by some unaccountable oversight no more cartridges were at hand. Skilled soldiers like the French soon perceived something was wrong, and prepared to take advantage of the fault. Their fire grew hotter than ever. The skirmishers hardly deigned to avail themselves of the shelter of the trees that lined the road, but picked off the Prussians with impunity. The eyes of the men turned in mute appeal towards their officers, who were gradually making up their minds to check