"Five years ago," said he, "I was entering my seventeenth year, and began to think myself a man, especially as I had been for one session to college. It was during the first vacation that I went down to ---- county to see my guardian, and to wage war on every living winged creature, from a sparrow to a turkey buzzard; and during the continuance of fair weather, I never looked into any thing bearing the likeness of a book, unless it was to tear out the blank leaves for wadding. But one cold, raw, windy, drizzly day, after satisfying myself that there was no more likelihood that the rain would cease, than if it had been the commencement of the deluge, I desperately picked up a book, and going to my sleeping apartment, threw myself on my bed and fell to reading. I forget what it was, but I know it was some extravagant Italian or Sicilian romance, in which ghosts, angels and devils mixed themselves up with the human actors, with very little ceremony. It interested me though wonderfully, and I continued hard at it until late at night, when having finished it, I got into bed and lay half thinking, half dreaming, about what I had been reading. A while after, I heard my name called in a voice which seemed to be near me. I shivered with dread--but made no answer. Again my name was pronounced; and the voice continued--'Look! behold her who will blight and wither up thy happiness and life, and drive thee to an early tomb.' Unconsciously I sat up and looked around; the room was as dark as midnight, and the wind sighed mournfully as it swept through the trees in the yard. Suddenly a light glanced before my eyes; I looked and saw a room handsomely furnished, with a small round table in the centre, and near it a sofa. A young lady was standing, apparently just risen from the sofa, with one hand resting on the table, and the other extended pointing at me. Her eyes were fastened on my face, with a look of proud, bitter scorn. I was as one fascinated: she slowly turned her face from me and waved her hand--then all vanished. I sunk back on my pillow with a feeling of utter despair: it passed off, and I longed for revenge. I said aloud, 'devil or angel, grant that I may inflict misery equal to what I shall suffer, and see her sink before me into the grave, and then I will not repine at my destiny.' With a perfect distinctness I heard the words, 'Thy wish is granted.' A feeling of gratified revenge stole over me, and I sunk into a deep sleep.