We laid him on the table, unconscious. His right arm was shattered midway between the shoulder and elbow. I thought he had fainted from loss of blood, but the next moment I saw plainly enough that he was dead. A shell had exploded near him, and sent a large fragment clear through his lungs and heart, killing him instantly. I looked in his calm, white face. It was Charley Reck. When we were safely at anchor, out of reach of the guns, I thought of the package for Louise which he had left in my care. It was not sealed, but simply tied, and the captain said, in view of the relation which he and Charley had sustained to each other, he would take the responsibility of opening it, and ascertaining its contents before it should be delivered. There was an ambrotype of the sweet young girl, and a letter written in French, breathing all the devotion of a true and faithful heart. The following is a correct translation of its closing sentences: "Good by, Louise! My darling! My own one! When this reaches you, I shall be in the grave, but we shall meet again, and love each other forever. Adieu, my love! I kiss you for the last time!" On the glass, covering the picture, was plainly visible the print of his ardent lips, so soon to be chilled in death. There were hair-breadth escapes on board the "Albatross" that night, but not another man was killed or wounded. Many will regard this singular presentiment and its literal fulfilment as merely a remarkable coincidence. I have stated only the simple facts in the case, as they occurred under my own observation; and to me, at least, they furnish additional evidence that "there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy." LUCY KEYES. A STORY OF MOUNT WACHUSETT. BY A. P. MARBLE. I. Lucy Keyes was the daughter of Robert Keyes, who lived in the town of Princeton, in Massachusetts, about the year 1755. At the age of two and a half or three years, she disappeared one night at sunset, and was never afterwards heard of by her parents. Her father spent the greater part of his life in a fruitless search for her among the various tribes of Indians; and her mother lost her reason in the contemplation of the unknown fate which had befallen her little daughter. This is an account of the little girl's disappearance, and the elucidation of a mystery which, for three-quarters of a century, baffled all search. The story is derived from traditions in the neighborhood, from allusions to Lucy in the local histories, and from the dying statement of a chief actor in the tragedy.