George paused, and was about to go on again, for such remarks were too frequent from Mr. Woodburn to be immediately replied to, when there came the postman’s rat-tat at the door, and Letty sprung up with all a woman’s eagerness for letters, opened the door and took in a letter. She looked at it a moment, and said, “For you, dear George. Bless me, a ship letter, and, as I live, from Dr. Leroy! Why, that is the first news of him that has reached England, so far as I know.” She handed it to George, who began running it over to himself. “He is well, I hope,” said two or three voices at once. “But I have scarcely read a line,” said George. “How can I tell? You will hear all presently. It is dated from on board the Aurungzebe, in the Hoogly. Yes, he says he is quite well.” And George read on in silence again. Suddenly they saw a deeper interest expressed in his face. He read on with a sort of hurrying avidity. “What is it? What is it?” asked the impatient Letty. “What is it?” said George. “It is most extraordinary, and yet it is only a dream.” “A dream? Oh, a dream only, and does that so astonish you George, as I see it does?” continued Letty. “Listen then,” said George; “listen, father. It is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of, though it is but a dream. One thing, however, I observe, the letter must have lain somewhere a good while, it is much out of date.” “On board the ‘Aurungzebe’ in the Hoogly, July 4th, 18—. “MY DEAR GEORGE WOODBURN,—I write to you the first line of a letter that I have sent to any one since leaving England; you will see why. We have had a long, but a prosperous voyage. We discharged part cargo at the Cape, and another at the Mauritius, and have just cast anchor here. I have not yet visited Calcutta, that city of palaces, for yesterday as we came to anchor I felt a most unaccountable and gloomy weight oh my spirits. Amid all the bustle of quitting the ship by the passengers and saying good-bye to those who had become so familiar through a long voyage, this weight lay on me. In the night I dreamed a most frightful and extraordinary dream. Now you know that I am not superstitious; that my medical education has made me a firm believer in the invariable prevalence of law in God’s creation. Dreams, visions, stories of apparitions, are all to me furniture of the nursery; and yet how inconsistent I am! Twice in my life I have had dreams so vivid and life-like that, contrary to the ordinary run of my dreams, which I rarely remember, they have remained as clearly and firmly on my mind as actual broad-day facts, and, what is the more wonderful, they were found each to represent something which at the same moment was really passing in a distant place.