ord. How he reached his apartment he
never knew, but the following morning found him raging with fever and
delirious. When he had sufficiently recovered, after the lapse of a few
days, to admit of his reading the numerous letters awaiting his
attention, one was put into his hand which had been brought on the
second night after the one of the memorable _seance_. It ran as follows:

"JOCKEY CLUB, January 26, 186-.

"MON CHER ABBE: I am afraid our little adventure was too much
for you; in fact, I myself was very unwell all yesterday, and
nothing but a Russian bath has pulled me together. I can hardly
wonder at this, however, for I have never in my life been
present at so powerful a _seance_, and you may comfort yourself
with the reflection that _Son Altesse_ has never honored any
one with his presence for so long a space of time before. Never
fear about your illness; it is merely nervous exhaustion, and
you will be well soon; but such evenings must not often be
indulged in if you are not desirous of shortening your life. I
shall hope to meet you at Mme. de Metternich's on Monday.

"_Tout a vous_,

"POMERANTSEFF."

Whether or no Gerard was sufficiently recovered to meet his friend at
the Austrian embassy on the evening named, we do not know, nor does it
concern us; but he is certainly enjoying excellent health now, and is no
less charming than before his extraordinary adventure.

Such is the true story of a meeting with the devil in Paris not many
years ago; a story true in every particular, as can be easily proved by
a direct application to any of the persons concerned in it, for they are
all living still. The key to the enigma we cannot find, for we certainly
do not put faith in any of the theories of spiritualists; but that an
apparition such as we have described did appear in the way and under the
circumstances we have described, is a fact, and we must leave the
satisfactory solution of the difficulty to more profound psychologists
than ourselves.

ON READING SHAKESPEARE.

CONCLUSION.

Probably no play of Shakespeare's, probably no other play or poem of a
high degree of merit, is so much neglected as "Troilus and Cressida" is.
I have met intelligent readers of Shakespeare, who thought themselves
unusually well acquainted with his writings, and who were so, who
unders