one of his friends, by which the shadow always passed. Twelve o'clock struck; no ghost appeared. One; half-past one. The Chevalier grew sleepy, and determined to return home. The town chiefly consisted, like most country towns, of one long street, and as the Chevalier, on his road home, was at one end of it, he saw at the other something white, like a rabbit or greyhound, that appeared to advance towards him. He perceived that as he advanced it grew larger and larger, and appeared to take a human form. The Chevalier could now no longer doubt but that it was the ghost, and felt his courage fail him, although he strove to master it as well as he could. The figure, as it approached, grew gigantic, and the Chevalier crouched behind a column as it passed, which it did with enormous footsteps. As it passed, it appeared all dressed in white; the face was long and white, and its hand appeared of itself capable of covering the whole body of Mengaldo.

"The Chevalier, when he was in the army, had a duel with a brother officer, and wounded him in the arm. He was very sorry at having wounded the young man, and attended him during its cure; so that when he got well they became firm and dear friends. Being quartered, I think, at Milan, the young officer fell desperately in love with the wife of a musician, who disdained his passion. The young man became miserable, and Mengaldo continually advised him to ask leave of absence—to hunt, to pay a visit, and in some way to divert his passion. One evening the young man came to Mengaldo, and said, 'Well, I have asked leave of absence, and am to have it early to-morrow morning; so lend me your fowlingpiece and cartridges, for I shall go to hunt for a fortnight.' Mengaldo gave it him; and among his bird-shot were some bullets, put there for safety, in case, while hunting, he should be attacked by a wolf, &c.

"The young man said: 'Tell the lady I love that our conversation has been chiefly about her to-night, and that her name was the last I spoke.' 'Yes, yes,' said Mengaldo, ‘I will say anything you please; but do not talk of her any more

you must forget her.' On going away the young man embraced Mengaldo warmly; but the latter saw nothing more in it than his affection, combined with melancholy in separating himself from his mistress.

"When Mengaldo was on guard that night, he heard the report of a gun. He was first troubled and agitated by it, but afterwards thought no more of it, and when relieved from guard went to bed, although he passed a restless and sleepless night. In the morning early, some one knocked at the door. The man said he had got the young officer's leave of absence, and had taken it to his house. A servant had opened the door, and he had gone up stairs; but the officer's room-door was locked, and no one answered to his knocking; but something oozed through under the door that appeared like blood. Mengaldo was dreadfully terrified; he hurried to his friend's house, burst open the door, and found him stretched on the ground. He had blown out his brains, and his head and brains were scattered about the room, so that no part of the head remained on the shoulders. Mengaldo was grieved and shocked, and had a fever in consequence, which lasted some days. When he was well, he got leave of absence, and went into the country to try to divert his mind.

"One evening at moonlight, he was returning home from a walk, and passing through a lane with a hedge on both sides, so high that he could not see over it. As he walked along, he heard a rustling in the bushes beside him, and the figure of his friend issued from the hedge and stood before him, as he had seen him after his death, without his head. This figure he saw many times afterwards, always in the same place. It was impalpable to the touch, and never spoke, although Mengaldo often addressed it. Once he took another person with him. The same rustling was heard; the same shadow stepped forth; his companion was dreadfully terrified; he tried to cry, but his voice failed him, and he ran off as quickly as he could."

Under date" November 13th, 1818," Godwin thus

gossips with Shelley on the events of the day, and on his own projects:

"I am at present deeply engaged upon Malthus. It goes on slowly, but so much the more surely (not the more surely as to its being ever finished, but the more surely) as to its being finally

'Fortis et in seipso totus teres atque rotundus,

Externi ne quid valeat per læve morari,

In quem maneat semper fortuna.'

I have just discovered a train of reasoning which, if I am not mistaken, will utterly and forever demolish his geometrical ratio.

*

*

**

*

*

"You have heard, of course, of the melancholy suicide of Sir Samuel Romilly. I do not remember any event that has produced so deep a public sensation. He was undoubtedly an admirable man; and I do not know any one whose parliamentary existence was so completely devoted to public good.

“You are also, I suppose, informed of the withdrawing the army of occupation from France. Lord Liverpool, we are told, has in consequence insisted upon a large reduction of our peace establishment, and made this measure the sine quâ non of his continuing in office. This is supposed to be owing to the turn matters took in the General Election. So far we have really made some advance in the scale of improvement.

"The last letters I received from Mary are of the date of August 3d and October 1st. In the October letter, she apparently labored under great depression of spirits, in consequence of the loss of her infant. I hope she has by this time recovered her accustomed tone, and is happy.

"Very affectionately yours,

"WILLIAM GODWIN."

FROM MRS. SHELLEY TO MRS. GISBORNE.

"MY DEAR MRS. GISBORNE,

"Naples, Dec. 1818.

“I HASTEN to answer your kind letter as soon as we are a little recovered from the fatigue of our long journey, although I still feel wearied and overcome by it, so you must expect a very stupid letter. We set out from Este the day after I wrote to you. We remained one day at Ferrara and two at Bologna, looking at the memorials preserved of Tasso and Ariosto in the former town, and at the most exquisite pictures in the latter. Afterwards, we proceeded along the coast road by Rimini, Fano, Fossombrone, &c. We saw the divine waterfall, Terni, and arrived safely at Rome. We performed this journey with our own horses, with Paolo to drive us, which we found a very economical, but a very disagreeable way; so we shall not attempt it again. To you, who have seen Rome, I need not say how enchanted we were with the first view of Rome and its antiquities. One drawback they have at present, which I hope will be fully compensated for in the future. The ruins are filled with galley-slaves at work. They are propping the Coliseum, and making very deep excavations in the Forum. We remained a week at Rome, and our fears for the journey to Naples were entirely removed. They said here that there had not been a robbery on the road for eight months. This we found afterwards to be an exaggeration; but it tranquillized us so much that Shelley went on first, to secure us lodgings, and we followed a day or two after. We found the road guarded, and the only part of the road where there was any talk of fear was between Terracina and Fondi, when it was not thought desirable we should set out from the former place before daylight. Shelley travelled with a Lombard merchant and a Neapolitan priest. He remained only two nights on the road, and he went veterino; so you may guess he had to travel early and late. The priest, a

great, strong, muscular fellow, was almost in convulsions with fear, to travel before daylight along the Pontine marshes. There was talk of two bishops murdered, and that touched him nearly. The robbers spare foreigners, but never Neapolitan men, if they are young and strong; so he was the worst off of the party. The merchant did not feel very comfortable, and they were both surprised at Shelley's quietness. That quiet was disturbed, however, between Capua and Naples, by an assassination committed in broad daylight before their eyes. A young man ran out of a shop on the road, followed by a woman armed with a great stick and a man with a great knife. The man overtook him, and stabbed him in the nape of the neck, so that he fell down instantly, stone dead. The fearful priest laughed heartily at Shelley's horror on the occasion.

"Well, we are now settled in comfortable lodgings, which Shelley took for three louis a week, opposite the Royal Gardens you no doubt remember the situation. We have a full view of the bay from our windows; so I think we are well off. As yet, we have seen nothing; but we shall soon make some excursions in the environs.

"Ever yours affectionately,

"MARY W. SHELLEY."