e in one particular, that the ghost _was not_ laid; that
it never would be, and never could be, but still wanders on the earth. And
you were wise to profess faith in it too, if you go amongst the Italians,
unless you would be looked on as an unbeliever, not a degree better than
the poor Protestant maiden Montani.

Several descendants of Giovanni and Adelaide of Visinara, are still
scattered about Italy, though greatly reduced in station. And the
accredited belief is, that whenever death is going to remove one of these,
the spirit of the ill-fated Gina appears and shows itself to them in the
moments of their last and most terrible agonies.

VISION OF CHARLES XI.

From Sharpe's Magazine

We are in the habit of laughing incredulously at stories of visions and
supernatural apparitions, yet some are so well authenticated, that if we
refuse to believe them, we should, in consistency, reject all historical
evidence. The fact I am about to relate is guaranteed by a declaration
signed by four credible witnesses; I will only add, that the prediction
contained in this declaration was well known, and generally spoken of,
long before the occurrence of the events which have apparently fulfilled
it.

Charles XI., father of the celebrated Charles XII., was one of the most
despotic, but, at the same time, wisest monarchs, who ever reigned in
Sweden. He curtailed the enormous privileges of the nobility, abolished
the power of the Senate, made laws on his own authority; in a word, he
changed the constitution of the country, hitherto an oligarchy, and forced
the States to invest him with absolute power. He was a man of enlightened
and strong mind, firmly attached to the Lutheran religion; his disposition
was cold, unfeeling, and phlegmatic, utterly destitute of imagination. He
had just lost his queen, Ulrica Eleonora, and he appeared to feel her
death more than could have been expected from a man of his character. He
became even more gloomy and silent than before, and his incessant
application to business proved his anxiety to banish painful reflections.

Towards the close of an autumn evening, he was sitting in his
dressing-gown and slippers, before a large fire, in his private apartment.
His chamberlain, Count Brahe, and his physician, Baumgarten, were with
him. The evening wore away, and his majesty did not dismiss them as usual;
with his head down and his eyes fixed on the fire, he maintained