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vol. title: Vol Four of The Theosophical Society of The Arya Samaj of Arya-wart vol. period: Sept 1878 – Sept 1879 pages in vol.: 350 |
< A few years ago, when in Europe... (continued from page 8-338) >
who sat opposite, the strange visitor said that he would be killed in the approaching battle, and told three others that they would be wounded, designating in each case the particular spot where the wound would be received. He also informed the Marquis that he would be wounded, and was careful to say just where. While this conversation was going on the bugles blew to horse, the officers hastily mounted and rushed into the battle which had already begun. The old man in black was not thought of until after the fight, when the Marquis found that everything he had predicted had come true. The battle had occurred, he himself was wounded in the very spot foretold, the three other officers were also wounded and in the places designated, and the officer who was to die had been killed among the first in the onset. But the most curious feature of the episode is that while the hostler remembered the strange visitor, how he had demanded the Marquis and how he himself had brought the Marquis to him, and while the sentinels from the extreme outposts to the heart of the camp all recalled the circumstance of a civilian dressed in black and with white hair having asked for the Marquis, of such a regiment and squadron, none of the wounded officers had any recollection of the visitor or of the scene in the tent at dinner. “My fellow officers laughed a good deal at my credulity,” said the Marquis as he finished, “but the features of this apparition are still indelibly fixed in my mind; they were those of Prince Talleyrand.”
It was now the turn of the Marquis’s wife, and she gave this odd concatenation of mysteries, all of which happened during a single journey from Florida to Paris.
The Marquis and his wife were living in Florida. The Marchioness was to take the steamer on a certain day for New York. An old negress of a superstitious nature urged her not to go, as she feared there was danger. Little attention, however, was given to the words of the negress. But, on the afternoon of the day before the Marchioness was to sail, a cat came up to her bedroom, carrying a dead owl, and put it in the middle of the bed. A servant threw the owl out of the window; but in a few minutes back came the cat with the same owl and again placed it in the middle of the bed. This time the owl was ordered to be thrown at the back of the barn, a long way from the house, but in a half hour the cat again appeared with the dead bird and placed it in the old place. In the evening, while the family were at dinner, a crash was heard in the next room, the parlor, and on entering it a strong, good-sized table—which the Marchioness still has, and which she pointed to, in one corner of the room, while telling the story—was found upside down in the middle of the parlor. Who or what had tipped over the table was the question. The room was completely shut up at the time, windows and doors closed for the night. The Marchioness, now somewhat nervous, declared that if the mirror, which covered the inside of the top of the table, was broken, she would not sail. On opening the cover, the mirror was found to be intact. She therefore sailed, and arrived safely at New York. But the Atlantic was still to be crossed. For this purpose she had bought a ticket by the Inman line, and was walking down Broadway the day before the boat sailed, when, on meeting a friend, he suggested that she change her ticket for one by the Hamburg line, which would land her directly in France, and thus save the traversing of England by rail and the crossing of the Channel. She consented, the friend made the change, and she sailed on a Hamburg boat, the Inman steamer on which she was to have taken passage, leaving at the same time. The two boats kept in sight all the way down the bay, but parted at night. When the Marchioness landed in Europe she heard that the other steamer was still out, and no tidings have ever come of her to this day. It was the City of Boston.
During the voyage, the man servant of the Marchioness came to her one day with a gold nugget, saying that a passenger in the second cabin had sent it to her. She sent the ore back. The servant soon returned, and said that the passenger insisted upon her receiving it. So the Marchioness, thinking the would-be donor was poor, returned the nugget with a hundred francs. Again the servant came back with the message that the man would not receive the money, and wished to give her the gold. But the Marchioness, somewhat vexed at the man’s pertinacity, ordered the servant to return the nugget and bother her no more. A week or so afterward, when at home in Paris, the servant one day produced the nugget, saying that the man would not receive it, and threatened to throw it into the sea if it was not placed in her hands. “Here is the identical piece of ore,” said the Marchioness, returning from an adjoining room with a rich lump of the precious metal.
Black Forest Legends
Mr. L. G. Seguin has just written a most interesting book on the above subject, published by Messrs. Strahan and Co., and full of the glamour of romance. Two extracts therefrom are appended:—
It happened, however, that one day a young hunter of noble family, a stranger-guest in one of the neighbouring castles, was led, in the excitement of the chase, up to the very gate of the deserted mansion. The deer which he was pursuing rushed by him into the very ruins, as though it were taking sanctuary. The young man, by name Kurt von Stein, had heard some curious legends as connected with a ruined castle on the height, and possibly, half from curiosity and half because he was hot and tired with a day of specially poor sport, he dismounted and led his horse, tired like himself, through the brambles and bushes that had overgrown the ruined gateway, into the grass-grown courtyard.
“A curious place, to be sure!” said the young man, seating himself for a moment’s rest on a fallen mass of brickwork overlaid with soft moss, and letting his horse meantime graze at his will from the rank growth of the courtyard.
“A very curious place! Looks as if no one had been here for a hundred years. I wonder whether this can be the haunted castle my uncle was speaking about only the other night. If so,” he added, “I wish to goodness the spirit-lady would have the hospitality to welcome me to her domains, and offer me a drink of something this hot day.” And as he took off his hunting-cap to air his heated brow, his thoughts reverted lovingly to a certain glass tankard in his uncle’s house, which, when filled with yellow Strasburg beer, was about as pleasant a sight to Kurt von Stein as the world could well offer.
After a while the idea occurred to the young man that as chance had brought him to the castle, he might as well pay his respects to the owner of it, whether she were a phantom or not.
A turret-stair, broken and worn, was close at hand to the spot which he had chosen as a resting-place. Twilight was beginning to fall as he reached the castle; now, suddenly, darkness seemed to have come, and as he mounted the winding turret-stairs, he noticed that lights were already showing through many of the windows of what appeared to be a less ruinous part of the building than that by which he had entered.
“That is all right,” said Kurt to himself. “I was wise to try my fortune here. A supper, or even a bed, would not come amiss to me, for I scarcely know how I shall find my way back to my uncle’s house to-night. But, at any rate, I shall get some directions, and, perhaps, if the people are not over hospitable, a guide home.”
So saying, he made his way up the staircase, and knocked at a door which was at the top of it. The door opened noiselessly, as though by an unseen hand, and admitted him into a long corridor, lighted and adorned with white marble statues. From this he passed into a suite of rooms hung with tapestry, and strewn with freshly-laid rushes, with a few carved settles and chests for furniture. Still he met no one.
Next he came into a great hall, on the walls of which hung a number of antique portraits, while in the centre of the apartment was a table spread as if for supper.
“This is very curious,” said Kurt to himself; “where can the family be gone to? However, one comfort is, they’ve got something to eat. I think I’ll wait here and give them a chance of inviting me.”
So saying, he sat quietly down at one end of the table, which was laid for two persons. Scarcely had he done so when the door of the room opened noiselessly, and a lady, young and beautiful, but with a somewhat sad and pale face, entered the room.
Kurt rose, and at once began to make apologies for his unwarrantable intrusion. The lady waved a white hand towards him, and bade him be seated.
“Say no more,” she said, in a sweet, sad voice. “I expected you.”
There was evidently some mistake here, thought Kurt, but as the mistake seemed to mean a good supper, he was not unwilling to fall into it. He at once took a seat at the table, and the lady took hers opposite him.
She was certainly very beautiful, he thought, as he looked again at her over the brimming wine-cup. The wine, too, was excellent; so was the whole repast—at which the lady waited upon him with her own fair hands—the only peculiarity about it being that neither bread <... continues on page 8-340 >
Editor's notes
- ↑ Lily White thinks she will try her hand at making bread when Bridget goes out by unknown author
- ↑ Untitled illustration by unknown author
- ↑ Proceeds immediately to business by turning-in a pail of water by unknown author
- ↑ Gets right into it with a will, also with her feet by unknown author
- ↑ But the mistress comes in, and business is suspended by unknown author
- ↑ Black Forest Legends by unknown author, London Spiritualist, No. 365, August 22, 1879
Sources
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London Spiritualist, No. 365, August 22, 1879, pp. 92-3