than I can pretend to tell you. All my knowledge of her
History comes from an old tradition in this family, which has been
handed down from Father to Son, and is firmly credited throughout the
Baron's domains. Nay, the Baron believes it himself; and as for my
Aunt who has a natural turn for the marvellous, She would sooner doubt
the veracity of the Bible, than of the Bleeding Nun. Shall I tell you
this History?'

I answered that She would oblige me much by relating it: She resumed
her drawing, and then proceeded as follows in a tone of burlesqued
gravity.

'It is surprising that in all the Chronicles of past times, this
remarkable Personage is never once mentioned. Fain would I recount to
you her life; But unluckily till after her death She was never known to
have existed. Then first did She think it necessary to make some noise
in the world, and with that intention She made bold to seize upon the
Castle of Lindenberg. Having a good taste, She took up her abode in the
best room of the House: and once established there, She began to amuse
herself by knocking about the tables and chairs in the middle of the
night. Perhaps She was a bad Sleeper, but this I have never been able
to ascertain. According to the tradition, this entertainment commenced
about a Century ago. It was accompanied with shrieking, howling,
groaning, swearing, and many other agreeable noises of the same kind.
But though one particular room was more especially honoured with her
visits, She did not entirely confine herself to it. She occasionally
ventured into the old Galleries, paced up and down the spacious Halls,
or sometimes stopping at the doors of the Chambers, She wept and wailed
there to the universal terror of the Inhabitants. In these nocturnal
excursions She was seen by different People, who all describe her
appearance as you behold it here, traced by the hand of her unworthy
Historian.'

The singularity of this account insensibly engaged my attention.

'Did She never speak to those who met her?' said I.

'Not She. The specimens indeed, which She gave nightly of her talents
for conversation, were by no means inviting. Sometimes the Castle rung
with oaths and execrations: A Moment after She repeated her
Paternoster: Now She howled out the most horrible blasphemies, and then
chaunted De Profundis, as orderly as if still in the Choir. In short
She seemed a mighty capricious Being: But whether She prayed or
cursed, whether S