The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1875-03-25

death. Thinking of her earnest eyes and
the depth Of longing expressed in them,
| seem again to feel the caressing touch
of those white fingers and to hear about
the rustic of angels wings
"Fanny," said manly voice from the
further corner Of the room, ''you remem-
Der that pretty girl who used to visit at
Aunt Dora's. in Beacon Street, when you
were child. She certainly had no air Of
being gifted with second sight; and yet |
can tell you Of something connected with
her that is totally inexplicable by any
known laws that govern the universe.
Some years ago | went into Aunt Dora's
one winters night, just before dinner, and
found aunty in great distress Old John,
her coachman, had gone off suddenly on
one of his periodical sprees, and she had
no one to send to the station to meet Miss
S. who was going to pay long talked OF
visit
"Aunty,' | said, don't fret; l will 60
with pleasure' l easily set aside her
objection-that had never seen the eN-
pected guest-and after asking her to de-
scribe Miss S, l hurried off, reaching the
station Just in time to see the long pas
senger train come in | walked quickly
through the cars, and had little OF no dit
ficulty in finding Miss S. Prompt, how
ever, as tlattered myself | had been in
my successful efforts, some one was before
me. and as i reached the young lady. |
found her greeting, with no little aglt;a-
ton, my old friend Phil Andrews. |
waited for q moment before either OF
them noticed me, and then going for
ward, introduced myself to the lady, and
was kindly received BY her.
II saw enough, however, in the brlef
moments we three stood together, to con-
vince me that neither Of them would have
complained of Aunt Dora had she neglect
ed to send tor her guest. Twas afterwards
told that Miss S. and Phil We're engaged,
and only waited till prudence permitted
them to marry. All these facts, however,
were at that time only guessed at by me,
and had | known them | certainly could
not have found therein any explanation OF
the state of painful agitation into which
Miss S. was evidently plunged.
"What is it, sweetheart" ?" | heard Phil
whisper tenderly. ''Are you i'll ?"
| mo, o.' she answered huskily. Il
am foolish and nervous
elias any one dared TO insult yOug
asked Phil, with a terocious air
''Indeed, no. said Miss s.; sit is only
the old story"
Phil looked troubled and annoyed, but
said no more, and Miss s., turning away
silently, struggled for composure. The
| luggage was at last found and we all
| soon stood in my aunt's warmed, we'll
| lighted, and tlower-scented rooms.
Aunty received Miss s. with loving
arms, and | heard her say, We'll, deary,
has all gone well with you to-day?'
| That something definite was intended
| by the question was certain from the ear
! nestness of the girls tone as she an
swered; Aunt Dora, all young people
called her aunt never could have sum-
moned courage to travel by rail to-day,
| had it not been to visit YOU
! Phil took his leave, and Miss S, accom-
panied by her hostess, soon went to her
own apartment, my aunt begging me to
remain until she came down again which,
however. was not until | had grown very
tired waiting for her.
Auntie came in with a worried express
sion on her gentle face.
''Were l in the least superstitious, She
said, as she took the easy chair had drawn
towards the fire for her, Il should inplore
| Miss S. never to put her foot within Il rail
strangest story. don't know whether to
call it It dream or 4 trance. You will
| doubtless put it down as merely imagina-
| ton; it is nevertheless true that for years
| Miss S, has never travelled by train with
out having most singular dream. The
| dream in itself is singular from its vivid
in its many repetitions the details never
| vary
But" | exclaimed with, | admit la
mentablc lack Of gallantry, "why, in the
name OF wonder is Miss s. so stupid as to
| 90 to sleep in the cars if their motion or
| their noise gives her bad dreams p
"She does not really Sleep cried my
aunt energetically; ''she is, | think, in u
mesmeric trance"
"Pshaw!' | answered; that is all nom
sense. Let us hear the dream, however"
And my aunt, pretacing her story with
the entreaty that Miss S. should never
know that the subject had been mentioned
to me, went on to say that Miss S. could
only be induced to give a vague descrip-
ton of noise, hurry and confusion, Of pain
and anguish, not as endured by herself,
but as going on about her. From all this
confusion, however, soon emerged one
central figure, and that woman's head,
crowned by a braid of blonde hair fastened
| by knots of black velvet This head seem
ed to be elevated above surging crowd
and to be borne slowly past the windows
of the car "Of course" said my aunt,
Il told her she had fallen asleep, and that
she had dreamed Of some tragic event in
the French Revolution-of the Princess
Lamballe, perhaps.'
cat the same time" continued my su-
perstitious aunt, 81 could not but shudder
as | glanced at her own fair hair, and the
knots Of black velvet that adorned it,"
My dear boy" she continued, with a re-
proachful look at my unimpressed, smiling
countenance-"yo must remember that
this dream or trance, or whatever you
please to call it, is not thing that has oc-
cured once or twice, but dozens OF times
in the last five years. Remember, too,
that Miss s. has never had any fear OF any
accident to herself, that she does not re-
gard the dream as any premontlon, or
indeed as ia any way personal, and breads
its recurrence only as shock to her
nerves.
"But aunty, questioned; "is the head
seen but once in each dream? And whose
are the features of the face ?n
The head" answered my aunt gravely
sis carried on a pike as it were, many
times to and fro. Or, as Miss S, describes
the scene, a procession of heads all alike
and giving the impression Of being one
and the same, are borne slowly past the
windows of the car in the glare of torches.
The poor child has never seen the features,
for the face is always covered by deli
cate, half transparent handkerchief in the
corner OF which is coronet and cipher of
delicate embroidery. Miss S. says that
she is conscious of vivid curiosity at
each recurrence of this dream only as to
the cipher on the handkerchief; she never
thinks whose features it velsn
Il dare not continued my aunt, "coun-
sci her never to travel by rail, lest 1 should
inspire her with fears which hitherto she
has never felt. For alas! | feel absolutely
certain that some fearful accident will hap