"Have I then lived to hold converse with a being of the lower world?" I muttered, to myself. "Am I awake, or is this but a continuation of the dream?" I gave my arm a pinch, a hard twisted pinch, with all my might and main, to ascertain if I were sleeping or waking, but the scene before me remained the same, and my recollections of the past night were as vivid as ever. I took off my hat to wipe my brow and let the cool breeze play with my locks and about my heated temples. I gazed at the smiling scene around me. What a contrast to the hell I bore within. "O glorious orb!" I ejaculated, "author and vivifier of all nature, through every grade of creation, illumine the haunted chambers of my dark soul with thy golden beams; bring balm to my jaded spirit and renew the bright hope of my earlier years. Give me strength to bear my tottering limbs to the end of my pilgrimage; or, if that be not granted me, take all there is left--take my life, great orb of day! Type of my own once aspiring youth, quicken my flagging energies and breathe into me new life, new hope, new strength." Whilst thus apostrophising the rising sun, I experienced something like the fire of my boyish days returning to my frame. I actually felt an appetite. I rose from my seat considerably refreshed, and continued my journey. I walked on with buoyant step; I had all but forgotten the adventure of the past night. If it rose up before me again at intervals, I speedily chased it from my mind. At length I espied the village in the distance. Another half-mile led me up to the door of "The Swan Inn." It was then about seven o'clock. A raw country youth, evidently the boots, was beating a mat outside the door. "Is the Baron within?" I asked. "Wal, he b'ain't up yet, zur," replied the youth. "Oh, never mind," I said, "I will wait, and as soon as he is up tell him a gentleman is waiting to see him." "Very well, zur." "Would you like to wait here in the parlour, sir?" said the buxom landlady, who had overheard our dialogue. "The Baron can't be long; he is generally up by this time, or if you will follow me, sir, I will knock at his door, and you can wait in his sitting-room till he comes out." "Thank you," I said, as I followed the landlady upstairs, and was led into the sitting-room. The landlady knocked at the Baron's door. No answer. "Don't awake him, pray," said I, "if he's asleep." "Oh, but the Baron told me to call him early, sir." She knocked again. Again no answer. The landlady paused a few moments to listen if he was getting up, then tapped again louder, louder still, but all was silent. The hostess ventured to open the door ajar. The Baron was in bed. She entered the room. A pause, a slight scream, and the landlady came running out to me, pale and terrified. "Oh, sir," she said, in a faint voice, "the Baron--the Baron--is--_dead_!" "_Dead!_" I exclaimed. "When? how?" "It is true, sir. Come and see."