The chaplain led the conversation from dreams, themselves, to their origin, on which subject he and the doctor could not agree; and Edward and his visions were left in peace at last. But when every one had departed, each to his daily occupation, Edward followed the Baron into his library. "I answered in that manner," he said, "to get rid of the doctor and his questioning. To you I will confess the truth. Your room has exercised its mysterious influence over me." "Indeed!" said the baron, eagerly. "I have seen and spoken with my Ferdinand, for the first time since his death. I will trust to your kindness--your sympathy--not to require of me a description of this exciting vision. But I have a question to put to you." "Which I will answer in all candor, if it be possible." "Do you know the name of Emily Varnier?" "Varnier!--certainly not." "Is there no one in this neighborhood who bears that name?" "No one: it sounds like a foreign name." "In the bed in which I slept I found this ring," said Edward, while he produced it; "and the apparition of my friend pronounced that name." "Wonderful! As I tell you, I know no one so called--this is the first time I ever heard the name. But it is entirely unaccountable to me, how the ring should have come into that bed. You see, M. von Wensleben, what I told you is true. There is something very peculiar about that room: the moment you entered, I saw that the spell had been working on you also, but I did not wish to forestall or force your confidence." "I felt the delicacy, as I do now the kindness, of your intentions. Those who are as sad as I am can alone tell the value of tenderness and sympathy." Edward remained this day and the following at the castle, and felt quite at home with its worthy inmates. He slept twice in the haunted room. He went away, and came back often; was always welcomed cordially, and always quartered in the same apartment. But, in spite of all this, he had no clew, he had no means of lifting the vail of mystery which hung round the fate of Ferdinand Hallberg and of Emily Varnier. * * * * * FROM PUNCH. OUR "IN MEMORIAM." Not in the splendor of a ruinous glory Emblazoned, glitters our lost Statesman's name: The great deeds that have earned him deathless fame Will cost us merely thanks. Their inventory Of peaceful heroism will be a story, Of wise assertion of a rightful claim, And Commerce freed by sagely daring aim. Famine averted; Revolution glory Disarmed; and the exhausted Commonweal Recruited; these are things that England long Will couple with the name of ROBERT PEEL, Of whom the worst his enemies can say Is, that he left the error of his way When Conscience told him he was in the wrong. * * * * * FROM THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. TO W.J.R., WITH A MS.