Captain William Dyke, late of Skilgate, in the same county, and now likewise deceased, be pleased to take the relation of it as I have it, from the worthy and learned Dr. Thomas Dyke, a near kinsman of the captain's, thus:-Shortly after the major's death, the doctor was desired to come to the house to take care of a child that was there sick, and on his way thither he called upon the captain, who was very willing to attend him to the place; because he must, as he said, have gone thither that night, though he had not met with so encouraging an opportunity. After their arrival at the house, and the civility of the people shewn them in their entertainment, they were seasonably conducted to their lodging, which they desired might be together in the same bed, where, after they had lain awhile, the captain knocked, and bid the servant bring him two of the largest candles lighted that he could possibly get. Whereupon the doctor enquired what he meant by this? The captain answered, "You know, cousin, what disputes my major and I have had touching the being of a God, and the immortality of the soul; in which points we could never be yet resolved, though we so much sought for and desired it. And therefore it was at length fully agreed upon. between us, that he of us that died first should, the third night after his funeral, between the hours of twelve and one, come to the summer-house that is here in the garden, and there give a full account to the survivor touching these matters, who should be sure to be present at the set time, and so receive a full satisfaction. And this," said the captain, "is the very night, and I am come on purpose to fulfil my promise." The doctor dissuaded him, reminding him of the danger of following those strange counsels. The captain replied, that he had solemnly engaged, and that nothing should discourage him; and added, that if the doctor would sit up awhile with him, he would thank him-if not, he might compose himself to rest; but for his own part, he was resolved to watch, that he might be sure to be present at the hour appointed. To that purpose he set his watch by him, and as soon as he perceived by it that it was half-an-hour past eleven, he rose, and took a candle in each hand, went out by the back door, of which he had before gotten the key, and walked to the garden-house, where he continued about two hours and a-half, and at his return declared that he had neither seen nor heard anything more than what was usual. "But I know," said he, "that my major would surely have come, had he been able." About six weeks after, the captain rode to Eton, to place his son a scholar there, when the doctor went there with him. They lodged at an inn, the sign of which was the "Christopher", and stayed two or three nights, not lying together now, as at Dulverton, but in two several chambers. The morning before they went from Eton, the captain stayed in his chamber longer than usual, before he called upon the doctor. At length he came into the doctor's chamber, but in a visage and form much differing from himself, with his hair standing upright, and his eyes staring, and his whole body shaking and trembling; whereat the doctor wondering, presently demanded, "what was the matter, cousin captain?" The captain replied, "I have seen my major"; at which the doctor, seeming to smile, the captain immediately confirmed it, saying, "If ever I saw him in my life, I saw him just now.' And then he related to the doctor what had passed, thus:"This morning, after it was light, a man came to my bedside, and suddenly drawing back the curtains, calls Cap. Cap. ! (which was the name of familiarity that the major used to call the captain by), to whom I replied, 'What, my major?' To which he answered, 'I could not come at the time appointed, but I am now come to tell you that there is a God, and a very just and terrible one; and if you do not turn over a new leaf' (the identical expression as is by the doctor punctually remembered), you will find it so'." The captain proceeded, "On the table there lay a sword, which the major had formerly given me. Now, after the apparition had walked a turn or two about the chamber, he took up the sword, drew it out, and finding it not so clean and bright as it ought to have been, Cap. Cap. !' says he, this sword did not use to be kept after this manner when it was mine."" After which words he suddenly disappeared. Captain William Dyke died about two years after this occurrence. Apparition of Mrs. Bretton.-(From Dr. St. Clair's Invisible World.) Dr. Bretton, late Rector of Pembridge, near Hereford, was married to the daughter of Dr. S. This gentlewoman was a person of extraordinary piety, which she expressed, as in her life, so at her death. She had a maid, of whom she was very fond, whose name was Alice, who was subsequently married to a young carpenter, a near neighbour. Not long after Mrs. Bretton's decease, as Alice was rocking her infant in the night, she was called from her cradle by a knocking at the door, which opening, she was surprised at the sight of a gentlewoman, not to be distinguished from her late mistress, either in person or habit. She was in a morning gown, the same to appearance with that she had often seen her mistress wear. At first sight she expressed very great amazement, and said, "Were not my mistress dead? I should not question but that you were she". She replied, "I am the same that was your mistress", and took her by the hand, which Alice declared was as cold as ice; she added, that she had business of great importance to employ her in, and that she must immediately go a little way with her. Alice trembled, and besought her to excuse her, and entreated her very importunely to go to her master, who must needs be more fit to be employed; the spectre answered, that he who was her husband was not at all concerned, but yet she had a desire rather to make use of him, and in order thereto had several times been in his chamber, but he was still asleep, nor had she power to do more than once uncover his feet, in order to awaken him; and the doctor said he had heard walking in his chamber at night, which till now he could not account for. Alice next objected, that her husband was gone on a journey, and she had no one to look after her child, and that it was very apt to cry vehemently, and she feared if it awoke before her return, it would cry itself to death, or do itself a mischief; the spectre replied, "the child should sleep till her return”. Alice, seeing there was no avoiding of it, sorely against her will, followed her over a stile into a large field, when the spectre said to her, " Observe how much of this field I measure with my feet"; and when she had taken a good large leisurely compass, she said, "All this belongs to the poor, it has been gotten from them by wrongful means"; and charged her to go and tell her brother whose it was at that time, that he should give it up forthwith, as he loved her and his dear aged mother. This brother was not the person who did this unjust act, but his father; she added, that she was the more concerned, because her name had been made use of in some writing that related to this land. Alice asked her how she could satisfy her brother that this was no cheat or delusion of her fancy? She replied, "Tell him this secret, which he knows only himself, and I am privy to, and he will believe you". Alice having promised to go on this errand, the spectre proceeded to give her good advice, and entertained her all the rest of the night with heavenly and divine discourse. When the dawn appeared, they heard the whistling of carters, and the noise of horse VOL. I. 16 bells, whereupon the spectre said, "Alice, I must be seen by none but yourself", and then disappeared. Immediately Alice makes all haste home, being thoughtful of her child, but found it as the spectre had said, asleep, as she left it. When she had dressed it, and committed it to the care of a neighbour, away she went to her master the doctor, who, amazed at the accounts she gave him, sent her to his brother-in-law. He, at first hearing Alice's story and message, laughed at it heartily; but she had no sooner told him the secret, but he changed his countenance, told her that he would give the poor their own, and accordingly he did so, and they now enjoy it. This is attested by me, 17th February 1681. Edward Fowler. Apparition of the Lady Lee. Sir Charles Lee, of Warwickshire, by his first lady, had only one daughter, of which she died in child-birth; and when she died, her sister, the Lady Everard, of Waltham, in Essex, desired to have the education of the child; and she was very well educated till she was marriageable, and a match was concluded for her with Sir William Perkins, but was then prevented in an extraordinary manner. Upon a Thursday night, she, thinking that she saw a light in her chamber, after she was in bed, knocked for her maid, who presently came to her; and she asked why she left a candle burning in her chamber? The maid said, that she had left none, and that there was none, but what she brought with her at that time. Then she said it must be the fire; but that, the maid assued her, was quite out, and said she believed it was only a dream; whereupon she said it might be so, and composed herself again to sleep; but about two of the clock she was awaked again, and saw the apparition of a little woman between her curtain and her pillow, who told her she was her mother, and that she was happy, and that by twelve of the clock that day she should be with her; whereupon she knocked again for the maid, called for her clothes, and when she was dressed went into her closet, and came not out again till nine; and then brought out with her a letter, sealed, to her father, gave it to her aunt, the Lady Everard, told her what had happened, and desired that as soon as she was dead. the letter might be sent to her father. But the lady thoug that she was suddenly fallen mad, and thereupon sent 243 sently to Chelmsford for a physician and a surgoon, who both came immediately; but the physician could discorn no indication of what the lady imagined, or any indisposition of her body; notwithstanding, the lady would needs have her lot blood, which was done accordingly; and when the young lady had patiently let them do what they would with her, sho desired that the chaplain might be called to read prayers, and when prayers were ended, she took her guitar and psalm-book, and sat down on a chair without arms, and played and sung so melodiously and admirably, that her music-master, who was then there, admired at it; and near the stroke of twelve, she rose and set herself down in a great chair with arms, and sently fetching a strong breathing or two, immediately expired, and was so suddenly cold, as was much wondered at by the physician and surgeon. She died at Waltham, in Essex, three miles from Chelmsford, and the letter was sent to Sir Charles, at his house in Warwickshire; but he was so afflicted with the death of his daughter, that he came not till she was buried; but when he came he caused her to be taken up, and to be buried by the side of her mother at Edmonton, as she desired in her letter. This was about the year 1662, or 1663, A Haunted Mansion and Lane in Anglesey, pre A lady, a friend of mine, who has estates in Anglesey and Carnarvonshire, in answer to some information I was anxions to obtain, has very kindly sent me the following curious statoments of what has recently occurred in Angiosey, This lady writes,-I think that I have heard fow or ghost stories than most people. But I have pronood facts that are curious, from places said to A lane nowr Llandyfnan-a part of the road or to When I was a child, six years old. troch is so Lewis, not arriving by lunch the svi var to look for him he was found on the gom son, his horse fine hunter-trer spoke and five summ carriage. distressed such occu |