troubled brain, and even his appetite failed him, though the jailor very affectionately placed before him a nice loaf of sour black bread, and a large pitcher full to the brim of Thames water. Nor were matters much mended when night came. In spite of the accommodation afforded by a bundle of somewhat musty straw, poor Matthew could not for a long time compose himself to sleep; and even when, at a late hour, his eyes at length were closed, his dreams had just the same colour as his waking fancies: they were made up of fish, bailiffs, and hangmen. In one of them he cut off his own head with his own hands, and held it up to the admiring multitude, the said head discoursing most feelingly all the time on the wisdom of eating apple-sauce with fish, and stuffing goose with parsley and red-herrings! It was now the evening of the second day, and Mat., from want of his usual food and sleep, had grown more disconsolate than ever, when suddenly the dungeon-door opened, and Sir Frederick appeared, his finger on his lip to intimate the necessity of silence, and an expression of fear in his face, that effectually stifled the joyful exclamation that was rising to greet his presence. Bribery!-escape !-caution!' he whispered rapidly, and seizing Matthew's by no means unwilling hand, he led him forth from the dungeon. At last he found himself whirled along the streets in Sir Frederick's own carriage. Then, and not till then, did he venture to ask how this wonderful escape had been contrived. Sir Frederick burst into a fit of laughter. 'My good fellow, your escape is all a hoax. I heard from Breedon what had happened-indeed, to own the truth, it was I who set him on-and immediately I went and explained all to my friend, Sir Robert Walpole, who gave me an order for your discharge. More than that, he is anxious to see you, and has invited you to dinner.' To dinner! sighed Matthew, for the thought of John Dory rushed full upon his memory, now that he felt himself safe, and the tears came to his eyes. Matthew was duly introduced to the minister, and sat down to dinner with a select party of friends of both sexes. There was the welcome clatter of plates and glasses, the delicious odour of soup from the yet uncovered tureen,-then the serving-men stepped noiselessly forward, and all the covers were simultaneously removed,— all, save one, and that one stood before Matthew. A moment's pause followed-every eye was fixed with an odd expression upon our unctuous friend, who actually gasped with expectation. His colour went and came like a young lady when first listening to a lover, or like a dying dolphin, only the simile is somewhat the worse for wear the servant, at a sign from his master, removed the cover -and what a glorious sight!-it was yes, it was a John Dory!a fresh John Dory!-a plump John Dory!-fresher, plumper than that for which he had gone through so many trials! Happy, happy, happy Matthew! THE VISION OF CHARLES THE TWELFTH. BY H. R. ADDISON. Of all the singular apparitions or visions that have ever been set down, the vision of Charles XII. is, perhaps, one of the most curious, and decidedly the best authenticated relation of the kind on record, depending not upon the testimony of an individual, who, from nervous excitement, or other mental morbidness, might have fancied the whole scene, and afterwards transcribed his waking dream in the glowing terms of a fanciful imagination, but upon the concurrent authority of one of the most learned and grave characters in Sweden, supported in many of his assertions by the concierge of the palace. The original document is still in existence, and open to the inspection of every traveller who desires to see it. The whole is clearly and concisely written, and signed by the King, his physician (Dr. Baumgardten), and the state porter. A note is attached in his Majesty's own hand-writing, stating his thorough conviction that so strange a vision must have been vouchsafed to him as a prophetic warning, and also his desire that the said document should be preserved among the State archives, in order to see whether the prediction would ever be accomplished. This note bears date some short time before Charles was killed (as well as I recollect about 1716). The complete fulfilment of the vision came to pass in 1792, above seventy-six years after its appearance. As I unfortunately did not take an exact copy of the MS. when on the spot, I can only relate it as nearly as I can remember, changing however the style of the narrative from the first to the third person. It was a dark and gloomy night. The clock had struck ten. The ill-lighted room cast an additional gloom on the figure of Charles the Twelfth as he sat in front of a huge fire in his favourite saloon in the palace of Stockholm. Immediately in front of him, over the fire-place, was suspended the picture of his Queen, with whom, to tell the truth, he had just been disputing, and now sat in silent discontent, mentally comparing the charming form which hung before him with the now less beautiful figure of her Majesty, only breaking his sullen silence by occasionally muttering some curse on her altered temper. When the King was in these moods he was always closely attended by his physician, Baumgardten. The re-action in a mind so buoyant as that of Charles, being proportionately dangerous, it was often feared he might commit suicide; so the doctor always remained near to him, seeking for a convenient opportunity to draw his mind back to livelier themes, to arouse him from the dreadful mental prostration to which he was subject. On the evening in question Baumgardten had sat patiently for about an hour, alternately watching his Majesty, and the storm which was raging outside. But neither the view of the sullen monarch, nor the opposite wing of the palace, which formed the grand hall, where the state trials and similar events took place, could afford much amusement to the tired son of Esculapius, who finding his patience begin to wear out, suddenly started up, and began pacing the room up and down, in the same manner that mariners pace the quarter-deck of a vessel at sea, occasionally stopping at the window to look out on the black and gloomy pile of building I have mentioned. Suddenly he started back. 'Silence!' growled the King. Great heavens, sire!' The doctor took two more turns across the chamber. At length he could contain himself no longer. "What is this extraordinary appearance? Please your majesty some strange event is taking place in the hall of justice. 'Hold your tongue, sir, or I shall command you to quit the room!' replied the monarch, who felt much annoyed at these interruptions to his reverie, and which he believed arose from a mere desire to arouse him from his meditations. The doctor paused, but after awhile curiosity got the upper hand of his better judgment, and walking up to the King, he touched him on the shoulder, and pointed to the window. Charles looked up, and as he did so beheld to his great amazement the windows of the opposite wing brilliantly illuminated. In an instant all his gloom, his apathy vanished. He rushed to look out. The lights streamed through the small panes, illuminating all the intermediate court-yard. The shadows of persons moving to and fro were clearly discernible. The King looked inquisitively at the doctor. At first he suspected it to be a trick to entrap him from his indulgence in moodiness. He read, however, fear too legibly written in the countenance of the physician to persevere in the notion. The King and his doctor exchanged glances of strange and portentous meaning. Charles, however, first recovered, and affecting to feel no awe, turned to Baumgardten. 'Who has dared to cause the grand hall to be lighted up?' he exclaimed; and who are they who, without my permission, have entered it?' The trembling physician pleaded his utter ignorance. 'Go instantly and call the state-porter hither!' Baumgardten obeyed, and returned with the terrified menial, to whom, however, he had not communicated the reason for his being sent for; but who, nevertheless, was sadly alarmed at being summoned before his royal master at this unusual hour. Where is the key of the eastern wing?' demanded the King, in a voice of unsuppressed anger. 'Here, sire,' replied the servitor, instantly producing it. Charles started with surprise, but quickly recovering himself, asked, 'To whom have you afforded the use of this key?' 'To none, your Majesty. It has never left my side.' 'Who, then, have you given admission to?' 'To no one, sire. The doors of the eastern wing have not been opened for at least ten days.' • Could any one enter without your knowledge by a second key or entrance ?' Impossible, sire. There are three locks to open before admission could be gained. The sentry would allow none to pass in without my accompanying them. No human being could possibly get in.' 'Look there, then, and tell me the meaning of those lights?' rapidly demanded the King, who suddenly withdrew the curtain he had purposely let fall before the entrance of the concierge. The poor man stared for a moment, and gasping for breath, totally heedless of the presence of his Majesty, fell back into a chair which stood near him. 'Arise, arise; I see you have had no hand in the strange affair,' added the King, in a milder tone. • Get a lantern instantly, and accompany us to the building. We will pass round through the centre of the palace. Breathe not, however, a syllable to any one; but be quick.' In five minutes more the trio were en route, and soon arrived at the door which the King desired his trembling servitor to open. He did so the brilliant light streamed upon the group. The affrighted porter instantly fled, while Charles, followed by Baumgardten, boldly stepped into the room, though his blood ran cold as he perceived it filled with a large assemblage of knights and nobles superbly arrayed, whose faces, though he saw, neither he nor Baumgardten could distinctly catch. They were all seated, as if a state-trial was going on. The high officers sat in gloomy silence, as one or two inferior officers moved noiselessly about. Presently the word 'Guilty' seemed to breathe through the room. A short, a solemn pause, and a door behind a temporary scaffold opened, and three men appeared, men apparently of rank, bound and prepared for execution. They were followed by the headsman, and others bearing the block, &c. Not a word was uttered, not a movement shook the assembled judges. The principal criminal laid down his head on the block, and the next instant it rolled from the scaffold, and actually struck the foot of Charles the Twelfth. At this juncture every light disappeared. The King called loudly for assistance to secure the persons who had thus assembled, and committed violence beneath the royal roof. Before he had time to do so twice, the frightened porter rushed in, attended by several officers of the household, and servants bearing torches. Not a vestige of the vision remained. Everything was in its proper place. The very dust, which had been allowed to accumulate, rested on the furniture. Every door was well fastened;-scaffold, block, criminal, and judges, all were gone. One only token remained to bear out the actual scene which had taken place: a large drop of blood had stained the stocking of the King, exactly on the spot against which the traitor's head had rolled. The next day the record was drawn up from which this sketch is taken. In 1792, Ankerstrom and his two principal accomplices justly suffered death for the murder of their sovereign, Gustavus the Third, King of Sweden. THE LITTLE HORSE. AN EQUESTRIAN EPIGRAM. SAYS Paudeen (to Paddy his father,) No wonder |