and give what explanation may be possible. For myself, I will only relate one incident which has always appeared to me very remarkable; and professing myself wholly unable to offer any explanation, I will simply detail the circumstances, which for five-and-twenty years have been clearly imprinted on my memory.

About a quarter of a century has passed away since I started from D to join a party of tourists near Glasgow. We met, and determined that the gentlemen should take a walking and fishing ramble through Rossshire and Inverness-shire, while the ladies should remain at the country-house of a friend, who had already gathered round her a merry group of young people, lately set free from the restraints of school, and bent on enjoying the beauty and freedom of the Western Highlands. The walking tour over, all were to spend a few days there together before the party broke up.

Our kind hostess was the widow of a Highland chief, and was descended from a family long celebrated for possessing a more than usual portion of second-sight. She firmly believed that the prophetic mantle had fallen upon her, but her disposition was cheerful and lively, and being herself still young, she had a decided preference for the society of young people.

Her residence was situated on the slope of a steep hill, about half a mile from the side of a beautiful lake, which it overlooked. The lake was at this point a mile at least in breadth, and on its opposite shore stood a small farmhouse, with a few enclosed fields around it. The lake was several miles long, and had its egress into a river, which in winter, or when swollen by the heavy rains which are common in hilly countries, was of considerable size. The only means of crossing this river was by a stone bridge about half a mile from the end

of the lake. When I have added, that in the garden of our friend was an inclosure which had for centuries been the burying-place of her husband's clan, and in which his remains were laid, I shall have given every particular necessary for the elucidation of the rest of the tale.

A month quickly passed among the rivers and lakes of Scotland, and we found ourselves at the widow's hospitable residence. Our welcome there was kind; but before an hour had passed, we could not help noticing that a gloom hung over the party lately so merry. The conversation was evidently forced. The younger ladies looked anxious and distressed; their hostess sad, almost stern, as they sat apart, speaking little, and evidently wrapped in thought. Something unusual had plainly occurred, and we eagerly sought an evening walk with some of the younger ladies, that we might learn what had so completely transformed our hitherto cheerful hostess.

The tale we were told was, in brief, as follows. About a week previously, Mrs. F— (as we will designate the widow) had appeared at the breakfast-table deadly pale, and with bloodshot eyes. She was reluctant to speak, and would not allow that anything was the matter, till towards evening a flood of tears relieved her, and she owned that she was distressed by a dream of the night before, so remarkable and so vivid, that she felt convinced it would be realised. She described it thus:

Looking from the windows of her house, she had seen a long funeral procession come up the opposite side of the lake, from the direction of the river-bridge. When they reached the small farmhouse, the horses were taken out of the carriages and turned into an

inclosure to graze; the coffin was brought down to the lake-side and placed in one of the boats, while the funeral party crossed in the large ferry-boat, commonly used for conveying cattle. On reaching the shore in front of Mrs. F's house, the procession again formed, and proceeded to the graveyard, where the funeral took place; the earth was heaped on the grave, and the mourners departed. Without calling at the house, they recrossed the lake, harnessed their animals, and disappeared by the same road by which they had come.

On hearing this narration, the young people had ridiculed the notion of attending to the fancies of a dream, and by their bright cheerful conversation had succeeded at last in restoring Mrs. F to something like cheerfulness. But towards evening on the following day, a horseman rode up to the door, and delivered a note from the undertaker of an adjacent town. This note announced that Mrs. F's mother-in-law had died suddenly at her residence, twenty miles off, and requested that a grave should be prepared for her in the family burying-ground. On inquiry, the messenger stated that the old lady had died at an hour coincident with the remarkable dream of her daughter-in-law, after a very slight indisposition, of which, in consequence of a family disagreement, Mrs. F had not heard.

The whole party was struck with awe. The widow quietly observed, 'You see it is true,' and retired to her own room for the rest of the day. On the fifth day the funeral took place, actually fulfilling, contrary to all likelihood, every circumstance connected with the dream. The old lady had died at her residence, the road from which ran by the same side of the river and lake with Mrs. F's house; it was therefore most improbable that the funeral procession should

cross the lake. But all was to be accomplished. On the night preceding the burial a dreadful thunderstorm swept away the stone bridge, which spanned one of the mountain streams that flowed into the lake about a mile from Mrs. F's house. The result was, that the funeral party was unable to proceed by the road. They could not pass the stream, now a raging torrent, so they retraced their steps, and crossing the river, continued their journey on the opposite side of the lake. The lady of the house saw all from her windows-the horses turned loose to graze, the boats occupied exactly as foretold, the funeral completed, the last sod heaped on the grave, and the party turning to depart without even calling at the house of the nearest connection of the deceased. For the second time she saw it all; but with what feelings, who shall dare to say?

APPENDIX.

HOUSEHOLD TALES.

INTRODUCTORY.

Ir is only of late years that household tales have been regarded as of interest by men of learning. For long they were thought to be 'milk for babes,' but to have nothing in them which could repay a moment's study by one who had emerged from childhood. But the great Grimm saw that in these stories for children lay fragments of ancient mythology, and he learned to trace them from land to land, and thus to prove them to be precious heirlooms, derived from our primeval ancestors before they parted into separate nationalities. The mine was discovered by Grimm, others have gathered ore from it, but none have thoroughly worked it out, tracing its veins, and exhausting its stores of mythologic wealth.

The following tales are but few; they are the specimens merely, collected by one who has not the time to become a miner, but who delights occasionally in exploring the littlesought-after treasures which lie deep below the surface of society.

A word first on the formation of household tales. Every language has its primary roots, and these roots united together, expanded, somewhat altered with wearand-tear, become words. The number of radices is fixed. It is small; the words formed from them are innumerable and continually changing.

There was a root in primeval Aryan languages which had the signification of enclosing, it was probably g (vowel) rd.