STRANGE FACTS.

THE following story has in itself little interest, save that of being true; and thus affording a genuine picture of the power of divine grace, in supporting the mind under circumstances of peculiar trial. But my reason for narrating it is because it seems to throw a ray of light on a more strange and mysterious tale, which I shall afterwards relate.

A clergyman from the West of Ireland, passed a night in Dublin on his way to England. At breakfast next morning, in the hotel, he met a lively and intelligent young man, with whom he had much conversation. He soon discovered that his new acquaintance was a Romanist; but he expressed very liberal opinions, and greatly reprobated all persecution for differences in religion. When the breakfast party separated, these two remained together; and in the course of conversation the young man communicated to the clergyman that a cousin of his had lately become a protestant; and that his relatives finding arguments and entreaties alike vain, had shut him up in a Lunatic Asylum, in the vicinity of Dublin. The Rev. Mr. was much shocked at this disclosure; and expressed so much sympathy, that the young man, with the characteristic frankness of his country, invited him to accompany him to the asylum that day, as he had leave to go to see his cousin.

As they walked to the place, Mr.

was wholly

occupied in considering what he could do to deliver this victim of papal tyranny from his prison; and regretted the necessity which obliged him to sail for England by the packet the same afternoon. On arriving at the asylum, they were conducted to a small, but comfortable apartment, where the young man was seated reading the bible. He received his cousin with a cheerful air, and his countenance beamed with surprise and pleasure when informed that the person who accompanied him was a clergyman of the church of England. After a little conversation on general topics, the cousin retired to the window, probably supposing the other two might wish to have some private discourse on a subject he did not care to listen to. Mr. took this opportunity of asking the young man what he could do to procure his immediate release; inquiring if he had any protestant friends in Dublin, to whom he could communicate his situation. The young man thanked him; but said he had no wish that any measures of the kind should be taken; that if he were desirous to get out, he should find no difficulty in convincing the respectable physician who attended the asylum that he was not a fit subject to be its inmate; but that he did not wish to expose his relatives to the obloquy that would attend a disclosure of their conduct towards him. He further added, that he believed they would only try the experiment for a short time; and when they found his resolution could not be shaken, they would leave him to take his own way. 'I am perfectly happy here,' said he, 'I have my God and my bible, and never feel solitary or dull; I have felt it a pleasant and calm retreat after the strife and turmoil in which I was previously engaged.'

When this anecdote was told me, it awakened recollections that had long lain dormant; reminding me of one, the mystery of whose sad tale will probably never be unfolded, till the day when the secrets of all hearts shall be made manifest. As it is many years since the circumstances occurred which I am about to relate, and they had not for a long time been recalled to my mind, until I heard the little history narrated above, I may commit a few slight inaccuracies in regard to dates, and intervals of time; but the facts of the case are too deeply impressed on my mind to admit of any mistake in stating them.

About fourteen or fifteen years since, Mrs. Bthe widow of a colonel in the army, was travelling in the north highlands of Scotland. She had left the beaten track of travellers, and was going towards a sequestered village, where she meant to pass the night. While gazing from the window of the carriage on the beautiful scenery around, she was amazed to perceive, at some distance, a human figure, utterly devoid of clothing: the poor maniac, (as there could be no doubt it was,) on perceiving the carriage, darted into the adjoining wood with the wildness and agility of a fawn, and disappeared from her view. Mrs. B- saw no one in her little inn that evening to whom she could relate the circumstance, or inquire whether such a person had ever been seen before. Next morning she strolled out before breakfast to the outskirts of the village, and perceived at a little distance, the same extraordinary figure. Her surprise was increased by observing, that two or three other persons, who must have seen this strange sight as distinctly as herself, took no notice of it, as if it had been an object quite familiar to them. A group

of children were playing near; she asked the eldest of them, pointing to the figure, which had now moved to a considerable distance, if she knew who that was: 'It's the daft leddy,' (mad lady) said the little girl, scarcely raising her eyes from the ground, or appearing to think there was any thing wonderful in the sight.

Finding that the daft leddy' was well known in the village, she made inquiries about her, and learnt the following particulars. About two years previously she had first been seen in the neighbourhood; different individuals occasionally encountering her in the woods and lonely places around. When any one approached near her, she bounded off with surprising rapidity, so that all attempts to lay hold on her had been vain. She first approached the village during the severe weather of the following winter, and took shelter through the night in the corner of a shed adjoining a small farm. Finding that any attempt to go near her caused her instantly to run away, the inmates of the farm placed a plate of food in the evening before her arrival, near the straw on which she lay. They found that this was eagerly devoured. They then added, besides her meal, some articles of clothing, which they hoped she would appropriate; but these remained untouched. During the continuance of the inclement weather, she came every night to her miserable lair,-the humane villagers supplying her with food. When the snow fell thickly, and the cold was intense, she sometimes ventured to remain all day in the shed; and so far got accustomed to the sight of her own species, that she was not disturbed by persons going in and out of the shed, to remove the implements of husbandry, and other

things it contained, provided they did not come too near, or appear to take any notice of her. On these occasions the persons thus engaged heard her continually jabbering to herself in a low voice, but could make out no intelligible word except the name, Louisa Wilmot. As the season got milder, her visits to the shed were less regular; and in summer she was frequently absent and unseen for months together.

This was all that the simple villagers knew of this poor outcast; but the account deeply interested the benevolent feelings of Mrs. B. She had not been sufficiently near the poor maniac to observe her face distinctly; but her graceful air, and delicately-formed limbs, irresistibly conveyed the impression that she had belonged to the higher class of society. On her return to P- Mrs. B. communicated what she had seen and heard to the Rev. Mr. E. and some other friends. The result of this communication was, that a subscription was raised to defray the expense of bringing the poor wanderer from the village near which she sojourned, to the Lunatic Asylum at Dundee. Two persons belonging to the Asylum were despatched in a post-chaise to the village, and, with great difficulty, succeeded in capturing her; and wrapping her in blankets, conveyed her to Dundee. Her rage was extreme on finding herself under restraint; but from the wonderful and almost mysterious influence which those accustomed to manage the insane acquire over them, she soon became less violent, and permitted the clothes which had been put on her immediately on entering the Asylum to remain on her person, which at first she had been very unwilling to do.