We learn from Mr. J. Wilson Black, house-surgeon at the Northern Infirmary, Inverness, who has kindly referred to the books, that Archibald Ramsay was admitted to that institution on Feb. 24, 1875, suffering from tumour of the brain, and died on March 9. Mr. Black adds: "None of the officials at present in the house were in it at the time; and I am consequently unable to say at what hour he died." Mrs. Bolland has kindly endeavoured to find out, from the Library at Gibraltar, on what day she took out the book that she was reading; but without success.

We find that the above account completely agrees with the fuller one in All the Year Round. That account, however, contains a more complete explanation of the non-recognition of the face. As regards the momentary mistaking of the man for a visitor, these words occur: "I will only remind you that, as far as appearances went, the man was a gentleman. He had gentle birth on one side, was always refined in his manners, and, moreover, was dressed in a suit of clothes of which no gentleman need have been ashamed." The paper ends with the following additional incident: -

"There is one odd fact as a pendant to this little story. The man Pearson, whom we had just brought all the way from the Ultima Thule of the ancients, at great expense, gave warning that day, because, he said, ' the house was haunted.' He gave no explanation, and I said nothing, as the reason of his sudden wish to leave only reached me through my maid. You will remember that he stood at the door, having apparently shown in my mysterious visitor. Had his notice to quit come a day later, I should have said he heard other servants speaking of the circumstance in houses where I had mentioned it. But he gave it that day and before I had spoken of it at all. Nor have I heard up to this moment what he meant. Puzzled but not alarmed myself, I would not risk frightening my household, so when my maid told me what he had said, I only replied, 'Nonsense! ' and that was the end of it. He left us, and the news of Ramsay's death came after he had gone, or I think I should have felt inclined then to question him".

The narrator in the following case, Miss S., fears that publication of her name might be disadvantageous to her.

"March 11th, 1884. (202) "In August, 1881, I had been ordered by my doctor to take absolute rest, not even to read at all, and to do no work whatever. I therefore took lodgings in a cottage near London for a few weeks. During the last 6 or 7 years, I had been rather intimate with a lady (Mrs. A.), whose daughter I had instructed during that period. This lady had gone to the seaside with her family during the summer holidays, but had sent me a message, before she left town, that the suddenness of her departure had prevented her from coming to see me, but that she would certainly do so on her return. In the meantime I had heard, through mutual friends, that she and her family were in good health, and would probably return about the middle of September.

'About 3 weeks after Mrs. A.'s departure, I was expecting a friend to come and see me, and had ordered a carriage, to take her a drive. The morning proved wet, and she did not come, and after waiting some time, I went out alone, in an open landau, at about 3.30 or perhaps as late as 4 p.m. I had not left the house more than 20 minutes, when, in an open lane, I saw coming towards me Mrs. A. with one of her younger children. She was sitting in her own victoria, which I knew well. As she sat I saw only the three-quarter face; but I recognised the bonnet, and also the sealskin jacket, which she was wearing, as one that she generally wore in winter. I remember them particularly, because it struck me, as the carriage approached, that it was very odd of her to be wearing a sealskin jacket in August. Just as the carriage came up to me, and was passing me, so near that if I had put out my arm I could have touched it, I sat up, and called out,' Oh, Mrs. A. * She did not move or turn her form towards me, but seemed to be half-turned towards the child, who sat on the further side of me. I was very much astonished at this, and then I turned round to look after the victoria, and, as far as my recollection serves me, I saw it slowly drive away.

I am perfectly sure that I could not have been mistaken; I was never more certain of anything in my life than that I had actually seen my friend and her little child.

"For the next 10 minutes or so, I was puzzling to think what could have brought her back to London, and was very vexed with myself for not having at once told the coachman to turn and drive after the carriage. I did, however, as soon as I could collect my senses, tell him to drive home as quickly as possible; and as soon as I reached the cottage I said to my landlady, ' There is a lady and a little girl waiting for me upstairs., 1 suppose? * When she assured me that there was not, I at once sent the servant over to my sister's house, about 10 minutes' walk off, to see if Mrs. A. had perhaps gone there. When the servant came back with no tidings of her, I was very much astonished, and couldn't help wondering over it for the rest of the evening.