countenance strikingly superior to those around him, turned abruptly,
and looked steadfastly at Glyndon.

"I think I understand what you mean," said he,--"and perhaps," he added,
with a grave smile, "I could explain it better than yourself." Here,
turning to the others, he added, "You must often have felt, gentlemen,--
each and all of you,--especially when sitting alone at night, a strange
and unaccountable sensation of coldness and awe creep over you; your
blood curdles, and the heart stands still; the limbs shiver, the hair
bristles; you are afraid to look up, to turn your eyes to the darker
corners of the room; you have a horrible fancy that something unearthly
is at hand. Presently the whole spell, if I may so call it, passes
away, and you are ready to laugh at your own weakness. Have you not
often felt what I have thus imperfectly described? If so, you can
understand what our young friend has just experienced, even amidst the
delights of this magical scene, and amidst the balmy whispers of a July
night."

"Sir," replied Glyndon, evidently much surprised, "you have defined
exactly the nature of that shudder which came over me. But how could my
manner be so faithful an index to my impressions?"

"I know the signs of the visitation," returned the stranger, gravely;
"they are not to be mistaken by one of my experience."

All the gentlemen present then declared that they could comprehend, and
had felt, what the stranger had described. "According to one of our
national superstitions," said Merton, the Englishman who had first
addressed Glyndon, "the moment you so feel your blood creep, and your
hair stand on end, some one is walking over the spot which shall be your