ust have been the
vision of a heated imagination. My poor mother must have fallen asleep,
and dreamt this horrid tale. I thought it was impossible, at least I
hoped so. It must have been as I suppose; the dream was too powerful,
too like a fearful reality,--partially unseated my poor mother's
reason." Philip reflected again, and was then satisfied that his
suppositions were correct.

"Yes, it must have been so, poor dear mother! how much thou hast
suffered; but thou art now rewarded, and with thy God."

After a few minutes (during which he surveyed the room again and again
with more coolness, and perhaps some indifference, now that he regarded
the supernatural history as not true), Philip took out of his pocket the
written paper found with the key, and read it over,--"The iron cupboard
under the buffet farthest from the window."

"'Tis well." He took the bunch of keys from off the table, and soon
fitted one to the outside wooden doors which concealed the iron safe. A
second key on the bunch opened the iron doors; and Philip found himself
in possession of a considerable sum of money, amounting, as near as he
could reckon, to ten thousand guilders, in little yellow sacks.

"My poor mother!" thought he; "and has a mere dream scared thee to
penury and want, with all this wealth in thy possession?" Philip
replaced the sacks, and locked up the cupboards, after having taken out
of one, already half emptied, a few pieces for his immediate wants. His
attention was next directed to the buffets above, which with one of the
keys, he opened; he found that they contained china, and silver flagons,
and cups of considerable value. The locks were again turned, and the
bunch of keys thrown upon the table.

The sudden possession of so much wealth added to the conviction, to
which Philip had now arrived that there had been no supernatural
appearance, as supposed, by his mother, naturally revived and composed
his spirits; and he felt a reaction which amounted almost to hilarity.
Seating himself on the couch, he was soon in a reverie, and, as before
reverted to the lovely daughter of Mynheer Poots indulging in various
castle-buildings, all ending, as usual, when we choose for ourselves, in
competence and felicity. In this pleasing occupation he remained for
more than two hours, when his thoughts again reverted to his poor mother
and her fearful death.

"Dearest, kindest mother!" apostrophised Philip aloud, as he rose from
hi