Sir Walter Scott, in his _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, mentions a remarkable instance of the first order of spectres. A doctor of eminence was called in to attend a gentleman who occupied a high place in a particular department connected with the administration of justice. Until the time that the physician’s services became necessary, he had shown strong common sense and extraordinary firmness and integrity in every case in which he had been called upon to arbitrate. But after a certain epoch his temper became saddened, although his mind preserved its habitual strength and calmness. At the same time, the feebleness of his pulse, the loss of appetite, and impaired digestion seemed to point out to his medical adviser the existence of some serious source of disturbance. At first the sick man seemed inclined to keep the cause of the change in his health a profound secret; but his melancholy bearing, confused answers, and the badly disguised constraint with which he sharply replied to the interrogations of the doctor, caused the latter to seek for information as to the cause of the disorder in other directions. He made minute inquiries of the various members of his unhappy patient’s family, but he could obtain no explanation of the mystery. Every one was lost in conjecture as to the reason of the alarming condition of the patient, which did not appear to be justified by any loss of fortune or beloved friends. His age rendered the idea of an unsuccessful love affair improbable, and his known integrity precluded the possibility of remorse. The doctor accordingly was compelled to return once more to the straight road, and he used the most serious arguments with his patient to induce him to conquer his obstinacy. At last the doctor’s efforts took effect; the patient allowed himself to be convinced, and manifested his desire to open his mind frankly to the doctor. They were accordingly left alone, all the doors were securely fastened, and the patient made the following singular avowal. “You cannot be more firmly convinced, my dear friend, than I am myself, that I am on the eve of death, crushed by the fatal malady which has dried up the sources of my life. You remember, without doubt, the disease of which the Duke of Olivarez died in Spain?” “From the idea,” replied the doctor, “that he was pursued by an apparition in whose existence he did not believe, and he died from the continual presence of this imaginary vision weighing down his strength, and breaking his heart.”