hat morning,
when, by his master's direction, he had taken some required drug from
the medicine-chest. To him also he confided the scene that had
immediately preceded Mr Devereux's retirement to his chamber. Little
mutual consultation passed, or was necessary. Mr Maddox proceeded
immediately to use such means as the exigency of the case demanded; but
either they were too late resorted to, or would have been ineffectual
from the first. Mr Devereux never awoke from that fatal slumber, and
within a fortnight from that disastrous day, his mortal remains were
deposited beside those of his beloved sister, and his earthly
inheritance was claimed, and taken undisputed possession of, by that bad
man, whose responsibility is awful indeed, if (as _we_ have too much
reason to believe) the sudden, though not untimely death of our lamented
friend, was occasioned by any other cause than that to which it was
generally ascribed--as adjudged by a jury--an overdose of laudanum,
taken incautiously, to allay a spasmodic affection, to which Mr Devereux
had been often subject. Of this I am morally assured, that if the act
was wilful, it was not deliberate. The last agony of that tender spirit
must have overset the mental balance, or the Christian's faith would
have triumphed over human weakness, and the malice of the wicked, which,
though it may kill the body, "hath no more that it can do."

THE METEMPSYCHOSIS.

BY DR ROBERT MACNISH.

[_MAGA._ MAY 1826.]

CHAPTER I.

A slight shudder came over me as I was entering the inner court of the
College of Gottingen. It was, however, but momentary; and on recovering
from it, I felt both taller and heavier, and altogether more vigorous,
than the instant before. Being rather nervous, I did not much mind these
feelings, imputing them to some sudden determination to the brain, or
some unusual beating about the heart, which had assailed me suddenly,
and as suddenly left me. On proceeding, I met a student coming in the
opposite direction. I had never seen him before, but as he passed me by,
he nodded familiarly--"There is a fine day, Wolstang."--"What does this
fellow mean?" said I to myself. "He speaks to me with as much ease as if
I had been his intimate acquaintance. And he calls me Wolstang--a person
to whom I bear no more resemblance than to the man in the moon." I
looked after him for some time, pondering whether I should call him back
and demand an explanation; but before I could form a