ed me if I were not thinking of the Princess Charlotte when he
disturbed me. "That," said I, "may easily be divined. All persons whose
hearts are not filled with their own grief are thinking of her at this
time. It had just occurred to me that on two former occasions when the
heir apparent of England was cut off in the prime of life the nation was
on the eve of a religious revolution in the first instance, and of a
political one in the second."

"Prince Arthur and Prince Henry," he replied. "Do you notice this as
ominous, or merely as remarkable?"

"Merely as remarkable," was my answer. "Yet there are certain moods of
mind in which we can scarcely help ascribing an ominous importance to any
remarkable coincidence wherein things of moment are concerned."

"Are you superstitious?" said he. "Understand me as using the word for
want of a more appropriate one--not in its ordinary and contemptuous
acceptation."

I smiled at the question, and replied, "Many persons would apply the
epithet to me without qualifying it. This, you know, is the age of
reason, and during the last hundred and fifty years men have been
reasoning themselves out of everything that they ought to believe and
feel. Among a certain miserable class, who are more numerous than is
commonly supposed, he who believes in a First Cause and a future state is
regarded with contempt as a superstitionist. The religious naturalist in
his turn despises the feebler mind of the Socinian; and the Socinian
looks with astonishment or pity at the weakness of those who, having by
conscientious inquiry satisfied themselves of the authenticity of the
Scriptures, are contented to believe what is written, and acknowledge
humility to be the foundation of wisdom as well as of virtue. But for
myself, many, if not most of those even who agree with me in all
essential points, would be inclined to think me superstitious, because I
am not ashamed to avow my persuasion that there are more things in heaven
and earth than are dreamt of in their philosophy."

"You believe, then, in apparitions," said my visitor.

_Montesinos_.--Even so, sir. That such things should be is probable _a
priori_; and I cannot refuse assent to the strong evidence that such
things are, nor to the common consent which has prevailed among all
people, everywhere, in all ages a belief indeed which is truly catholic,
in the widest acceptation of the word. I am, by inquiry and conviction,
as well as by