foster such a
tone of feeling. From its antique appointments; from the dark and
richly-carved panels of its wainscot; from its yawning width and height
of chimney--looking like the open entrance to a tomb, of which the
surrounding ornaments appeared to form the sculptures and the
entablature;--from the portraits of grim men and severe-eyed women,
arrayed in orderly procession along the walls, and scowling a
contemptuous enmity against the degenerate invader of their gloomy
bowers and venerable halls; from the vast, dusky, ponderous, and
complicated draperies that concealed the windows, and hung with the
gloomy grandeur of funereal trappings about the hearse-like piece of
furniture that was destined for his bed,--Lord L., on entering his
apartment, might be conscious of some mental depression, and surrounded
by such a world of melancholy images, might, perhaps, feel himself more
than usually inclined to submit to the influences of superstition. It is
not possible that these sentiments should have been allied to any
feelings of apprehension. Fear is acknowledged to be a most mighty
master over the visions of the imagination. It can "call spirits from
the vasty deep"--and they do come, when it does call for them. It
trembles at the anticipation of approaching evil, and then encounters in
every passing shadow the substance of the dream it trembled at. But such
could not have been the origin of the form which addressed itself to the
view of Lord Londonderry. Fear is a quality that was never known to
mingle in the character of a Stewart. Lord Londonderry examined his
chamber--he made himself acquainted with the forms and faces of the
ancient possessors of the mansion, who sat up right in their ebony
frames to receive his salutation; and then, after dismissing his valet,
he retired to bed. His candles had not been long extinguished, when he
perceived a light gleaming on the draperies of the lofty canopy over his
head. Conscious that there was no fire in the grate--that the curtains
were closed--that the chamber had been in perfect darkness but a few
moments before, he supposed that some intruder must have accidentally
entered his apartment; and, turning hastily round to the side from which
the light proceeded--saw--to his infinite astonishment--not the form of
any human visiter--but the figure of a fair boy, who seemed to be
garmented in rays of mild and tempered glory, which beamed palely from
his slender form, like the faint