'_I come to thee for the last time. Wilt thou wed Montmorenci, or wilt thou not?--Speak._' 'Oh!' cried I, 'if you would only promise not to do me a mischief, I have something particular to ask of you.' 'A spirit cannot harm a mortal,' drawled out the spectre. 'Well then,' said I, faltering and trembling.--'Perhaps--pardon me--perhaps you would first have the goodness to walk in.' The spectre advanced a few paces, and paused. 'This is so kind, so condescending,' said I, 'that really--do take a chair.' The spectre shook its head mournfully. 'Pray do,' said I, 'you will oblige me.' The spectre seated itself in a chair; but atoned for the mortal act by an immortal majesty of manner. 'As you are of another world,' said I, ''tis but fair to do the honours of this; and in truth, I am not at all astonished that you apparitions should speak so harshly as you usually do, we mortals always shew such evident aversion and horror at your appearance.' 'There is a prejudice gone forth against us,' said the spectre, with a hollow voice, 'in consequence of our coming at night, like thieves.' 'Yes,' said I, 'at one precisely. And it has often struck me how well the clocks of old castles were kept, for they regularly struck just as the ghost appeared. Indeed, ghosts keep such late hours, that 'tis no wonder they look pale and thin. I do not recollect ever to have heard or read of a fat or a fresh-coloured phantom.' 'Nor of a ghost wanting a limb or an eye,' said the spectre. 'Nor of an ugly ghost,' said I bowing. The spectre took the compliment, and bowed in return. 'And therefore,' said the spectre, 'as spirits are always accurate resemblances of the bodies that they once inhabited, none but thin and pale persons can ever become ghosts.' 'And by the same rule,' said I, 'none but blue-eyed and golden-haired persons can go to heaven; for our painters always represent angels so. I have never heard of a hazel-eyed angel, or a black-haired cherub.' 'I know,' said the spectre, 'if angels are, as painters depict them, always sitting naked on cold clouds, I would rather live the life of a ghost, to the end of the chapter.' 'And pray,' cried I, 'where, and how do ghosts live?' 'Within this very globe,' said the spectre. 'For this globe is not, as most mortals imagine, a solid body, but a round crust about ten miles thick; and the concave inside is furnished just like the convex outside, with wood, water, vale and mountain. In the centre stands a nice little golden sun, about the size of a pippin, and lights our internal world; where, whatever enjoyments we loved as men, we retain as ghosts. We banquet on visionary turtle, or play at aërial marbles, or drive a phantasmagoric four in hand. The young renew their amours, and the more aged sit yawning for the day of judgment.--But I scent the rosy air of dawn. Speak, lady; what question art thou anxious that I should expound?'