My first story shall be one that was told to me by an aged lady who was one of the friends of my youth, and who often mentioned this strange incident of her placid, yet busy life.  She was a sensible, practical woman, the last person in the world likely to be led astray by an overheated imagination or deceived by hallucinations.  Her early youth had been passed in the country, her father being a wealthy farmer.  She had formed a close intimacy with the daughter of a gentleman living at some distance from her father’s farm, and the two were seldom apart.  An invitation given to my friend (whom I shall call Mrs. L——­) to visit some relatives in a neighboring city caused a brief separation between the two girls, and they parted with many protestations of enduring affection.  On the day appointed for Mrs. L——­’s return she set out at the prescribed hour.  The latter part of her journey was to be performed on horseback.  On a bright sunny afternoon in June she found herself, about five o’clock, drawing near her father’s house.  Suddenly in the broad road before her she perceived a female form walking rapidly toward her, and, to her delight, recognized her friend coming, as she thought, to meet her.

“I will make her go back with me and take tea,” was Mrs. L——­’s thought as she whipped up her horse in her haste to greet the dear one, who was all the more beloved on account of their temporary separation.  But as she approached the figure, and before she had had time to speak, or indeed to do more than notice that her friend looked very pale and ill, her horse, an unusually quiet, steady animal, seemed struck with sudden terror, reared, shied, and finally plunged into a hollow by the roadside, from which she had some difficulty in extricating him.  When she did succeed in bringing him back to the level road she found, to her astonishment, that the young girl had disappeared.  Around her lay the open fields, before her and behind her the road—­all in the bright lustre of the summer afternoon—­but no trace of the figure could she see.  Completely mystified, she hastened home, there to learn that her friend had died suddenly that very morning.

The next incident I shall narrate was told me by a German gentleman whose mother was the heroine of the tale.  His father had been appointed to some public office in a small German town, and among the emoluments of the place was the privilege of residing in a large, old-fashioned, but very handsome mansion.  The husband and wife set off in high spirits to inspect their new abode, to which some portion of their furniture had already been transferred.  They went from room to room, inspecting and planning, till they came to an apartment the ceiling of which was elaborately decorated with plaster Cupids, baskets of flowers, etc., modeled in high relief, and with a centre-piece of unusual size and magnificence.  A small table, the only article of furniture the room contained, was placed directly under this centre-piece.  The young wife, rather weary of her researches, was standing beside this table, and was leaning on it while she went on talking with her husband, when suddenly a loud, imploring voice called from down stairs, “Caroline!  Caroline! come down to me—­come!”