A maid-servant in one of the midland counties of England, being up early one morning, heard her name called in a voice that seemed to be her brother’s, a sailor then at sea; and running up, she found him standing in the hall; he said he was come from afar, and was going again, and mentioned some other things; when her mistress, hearing voices, called to know who she was talking to: she said it was her brother from sea. After speaking to her for some time, she suddenly lost sight of him, and found herself alone. Amazed and puzzled, she told her mistress what had happened, who being led thus to suspect the kind of visiter it was, looked out of the window to ascertain if there were any marks of footsteps, the ground being covered with snow. There were, however, none,—and it was therefore clear that nobody could have entered the house. Intelligence afterward arrived of the young man’s death. This last is a case of wraith, but a more complicated one, from the circumstance of speech being superadded. But this is not by any means an isolated particular; there are many such. The author of the book called “Accredited Ghost Stories”—whose name I at this moment forget, and I have not the book at hand—gives, on his own authority, the following circumstance, professing to be acquainted with the parties. A company were visiting York cathedral, when a gentleman and lady, who had detached themselves from the rest, observed an officer wearing a naval uniform approaching them; he walked quickly, saying to the lady, as he passed, “There _is_ another world.” The gentleman, seeing her greatly agitated, pursued the stranger, but lost sight of him, and nobody had seen such a person but themselves. On returning to his companion, she told him that it was her brother, who was then abroad with his ship, and with whom she had frequently held discussions as to whether there was or was not a future life. The news of the young man’s death shortly reached the family. In this case the brother must have been dead; the spirit must have passed out of this world into that other, the existence of which he came to certify. This is one of those cases which—happening not long ago—leads one especially to regret the want of moral courage which prevents people giving up their names and avowing their experience. The author of the abovementioned book, from which I borrow this story, says that the sheet had gone to the press with the real names of the parties attached, but that he was requested to withdraw them, as it would be painful to the family. My view of this case is so different, that, had it occurred to myself, I should have felt it my imperative duty to make it known and give every satisfaction to inquirers.