was before me, I stepped out through it, and found myself in the open air. A multitude of similar adventures crowded into my mind. While I was looking round for my mysterious conductor, I was startled by a fearful crash, the earth shook under me, and a cloud of dust veiled every object from my sight. I distinguished only a loud and confused cry; people hastened from all sides to the spot; and it was presently clear to me that the whole part of the building in which I had slept had fallen to the ground. A quarter of an hour later and I should have been buried in the ruins; had not this singular vision led me from my chamber, I should have shared the fate of my bed, which was found shattered to pieces under the rubbish. I hastened to quit the fatal place where this accident now rendered my presence unnecessary. Before I went, however, I made inquiries if any thing supernatural had ever before been remarked in the building, but nobody, that I could learn, had ever perceived any thing: I therefore carefully refrained from mentioning my adventure to any one, and had myself nearly forgotten it; but the anxiety of my wife this evening, and subsequently, as she quitted the room, a certain resemblance to the warning spectre, in my mind recalled it to my recollection.”
“Then I can easily believe,” said the professor, laughing, “that you followed the fair spectre courageously enough, if that be the case; she probably promised a more romantic adventure than the tumbling down of an old building.”
“Jesting apart,” replied the counsellor, “setting aside the supernatural, the figure would have been captivating enough;—but to return to the purpose, if you persist in supposing the appearance to have been imaginary, the result only of my fancy; how can you account for the singular coincidence of my actual preservation by it from an apparently inevitable danger? Either it must have been some tutelary spirit, or a foreboding power in my own mind; give me, if you can, another explanation of the phenomenon.
The professor sought for a third, in vain; he mentioned many forced explanations, of which it was easy for the counsellor to show the fallacy. The dispute was still continued, when a distant noise in the street attracted the attention of the counsellor. The disturbance increased and drew nearer; they all went to the window; the patrole were running backwards and forwards, the doors of the houses were thronged with the curious; presently the police officers appeared; the Cosaks were near—the Cosaks, the Cosaks, re-echoed from the streets, and a loud and wild “hurrah!” instantly followed.
The professor’s mind ran, in an instant, through all the intermediate degrees from incredulity to the fullest conviction; he looked for his hat, and would willingly have returned home, but the multitudes that thronged the streets rendered it impossible. The new visitors had, in the mean time, effected the objects of their casual visit; after some inquiries, they withdrew in perfect order, leaving the town to rest again. The people, nevertheless, still continued to roam through the streets in crowds, and the counsellor, who had been repeatedly required during the event, was glad he happened to be at home so opportunely.
“There,” said he as they were assembled together again at his house discussing the circumstance, “there we have another proof of the power of foreboding, and one indeed which we have experienced our-
