wounded soldier near me; but the comrades who were
lying round me were all snoring, and there was no other sound to be
heard. The first gleams of the dawn were breaking through the deep
darkness, and I got up and strode away over the bodies of the sleepers,
thinking that I might perhaps come across the wounded man, whoever he
was, who had uttered that cry. It was a singularly calm night, and
only most gradually and imperceptibly did the morning breeze begin to
move, and to cause the leaves to tremble. Then a second cry, like the
former--a long wail of woe--came ringing through the air, and died away
in the remotest distance. It was as though the spirits of the slain
were rising up from the battlefield, and wailing their boundless sorrow
out into the wide heaven. My breast throbbed, was overwhelmed by an
inexpressible awe; all the sorrow which I had ever heard exhaled from
all human breasts was nothing in comparison with that heart-piercing
wail. Our comrades now awoke from their sleep, and, for the third time,
that terrible cry of sorrow arose, and filled the whole air, more
fearful and awful than before. We were all smitten with the profoundest
fear; even the horses were terrified; they snorted and stamped. Many of
the Spaniards fell on their knees and prayed aloud. One of the English
officers told us that he had several times met with this phenomenon in
southern countries; and that it was of electrical origin, and there
would probably be a change in the weather. The Spaniards, with their
bent towards the supernatural, heard in it the mighty voices of
supernatural beings, announcing great events about to happen. In this
they were confirmed when, next day, the battle came thundering in upon
them, with all its horrors."

"Is there any occasion." Dagobert said, "to go to Ceylon, or to Spain,
to hear these marvellous Nature-tones of sorrow and complaining? Surely
the howling of the storm-wind, the rattling of the hail, the groanings
and creakings of the vanes are just as capable of filling us with
profound terror as are those other Nature-tones we have been speaking
of. Listen to that weird music which some hundreds of fearful voices
are organing down this chimney; or to the strange little spirit-like
ditty which the tea-urn is just beginning to sing."

"Oh! most ingenious indeed!" cried Madame von G. "Even into the very
tea-urn Dagobert conjures spirits which render themselves cognisable to
us by fearful cries of woe."