A young lady, at a boarding school near Birmingham, had been set a task, and felt indignant at being obliged to learn it out of an old book, while some of the other scholars were indulged with new ones. She went next day to an old woman in the neighbourhood, and told her “that she had had a singular dream,—that she was dead, and had been carried to her grave by such and such young ladies,” naming some of her companions and young friends; and asked the old woman what she thought of it; who replied, “that she put no faith in dreams.” A few days after, when going a walk with the other scholars, she loitered behind, and making her escape from the party, drowned herself in a pool near the school. She left her hat (or bonnet) on the edge of the pool, wherein was pinned a letter for her parents, entreating their forgiveness of such a rash act. She therein requested to have for her bearers those whom she had said she dreamed had carried her to her grave; and enclosed some locks of her hair as mementos of friendship. She was only about eleven years of age, and the daughter of very respectable parents in the neighbourhood. Sophia Edwards and Mary West, two female-servants, in the family of the Rev. John Gibbons, of Brasted, in Kent, were left in care of the house for some weeks, in consequence of the absence of their master and mistress. During this time they had the misfortune to break some articles of furniture, and to spoil four dozen of knives and forks, by incautiously lighting a fire in an oven where they had been placed to keep them from rust. The unfortunate girls, however, bought other knives and forks. Upon the return of Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons, the servants were severely reprimanded for what had happened, and one of them received notice to leave her place. They both appeared to be very uncomfortable for two days afterwards; and, on the second day, the footman heard them in conversation respecting Martha Viner, a late servant in the same family, who had drowned herself in a pond in the garden, and observing one to the other, that she had done so through trouble. The elder then said to the younger—“We will have a swim to-night, Mary!” The other replied—“So we will, girl.” The footman thought they were jesting, and said—“Ay, and I will swim with you!” Sophia Edwards replied—“No, you shan’t; but I will have a swim, and afterwards I will haunt you.” After this conversation, they continued about their work as usual, and at six o’clock asked the footman to get tea for them. While he was in the pantry for that purpose, he heard the kitchen door shut; and on his return into the kitchen, they were both gone. The footman afterwards thought he heard them upstairs, and therefore took no notice of their absence, until eight o’clock, when he told his master and mistress. Search was made for them about the house, garden, and neighbourhood, during the whole night; and early next morning, the same pond was dragged which had so recently been the