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. 28, 1863.] long, the corporal would not have had so good a chance. But take my word for it, Giulia don’t care a fig for him. He does go on with her, to be sure. And he is a very amusing man, the corporal. And what is a poor girl to do?—and such a girl as Giulia is, too! How can you think that she is to live in a town like Fano,—specially when the place is full of officers and soldiers,—and not be admired and run after?”

Poor Beppo groaned deeply. “How long has she known the man?” he asked despondingly.

“Oh! Captain Brilli goes very often to La Dossi. I hardly ever can see him anywhere else to speak to him. And Corporal Tenda is very much with him. I believe the corporal at home in Piedmont is rather above his position in the army. He is a very respectable sort of man, I fancy. And so he made acquaintance with Giulia, you see. And how could she help it? But I don’t believe she cares a bit about him,—not to say, really care,” pleaded Lisa.

But Beppo had seen the corporal’s manner and his look, as he seemed, to Beppo’s imagination, to surround her on all sides at once with his accursed agile assiduity; he had seen the attention Giulia was according to him, and had observed the merry laughing intelligence in her eye. He had contrasted with this his own physical and mental attitude when near her, and her manner towards him; and the iron had entered into his soul!

belief in dreams is one which has existed among all nations through all time; and the records of every people contains remarkable instances of their fulfilment. In giving the following instances of the actual realisation of dreams in ancient and modern times, I am not influenced by any desire to increase the credulity which seems to have reached its culminating-point in the case of spirit-rappings, but simply to furnish food for reflection for the minds of those who take pleasure in the consideration of subjects removed from the hard facts of everyday life. The first I shall relate is one which I believe has never been published. I heard it told by a Brazilian naval officer, on board the steamer in which we were making a voyage to Lisbon, last summer; it will be as well, perhaps, to give it in his own words, as nearly as I can remember them:—

“Three years ago myself, my brother, his wife and child, and a negro nurse, were cruising in a schooner belonging to him off the Brazilian coast, for the sake of the benefit to be derived from the sea-air. We were sailing across the Bay of Todos Santos, intending to anchor at Bahia, when I saw that the negress, who had just brought the child on deck to wash it, was crying bitterly. As I knew that my sister-in-law was very partial to her, I wondered what could be the matter; but as I made a rule at all times, and especially when we were living together, not to mix myself up in any way in my brother’s domestic affairs, I asked no questions. That morning, when we sat down to breakfast, I noticed that my sister looked very serious, which was not at all usual with her. Presently she said: ‘You will think me very foolish, Pedro, but nurse has had a dream about my sister, and she takes it so to heart, and so firmly believes it to be true, that she has quite frightened me.’

‘And what was her dream?’

‘That Marie is dead! The nurse says that she had got up to get the child some drink, a little before it was light, and had just dropped off asleep again when she dreamed that she heard Marie’s voice quite plainly, calling her by her name. She forgot where she was at the moment, and answered her as though she had been at home, and was not at all surprised to find herself standing beside the sofa on which Marie was lying, until the thought occurred to her that she was now at sea, and that there must be hundreds of miles between them. My sister, she says, was looking eagerly towards the door, as if she expected her to come when she called. She was partly dressed, and seemed in great distress that Jacinta did not come. After a few moments she called Jacinta twice rapidly, and then became deadly pale, and sank down motionless. At that instant the door opened, and two of the women came in hastily, one carrying a light in her hand. Jacinta woke then, and has been crying ever since; for she says she is sure my sister is dead. You know Jacinta was her foster-mother, and they have always been as fond of each other as mother and daughter could be. I have been trying to persuade her that it is nothing but a dream, and that she will find Marie alive and well when we get home; but it is no use trying to comfort her—she persists that she is dead, and she is so convinced of it that, though I do not believe there is any ground for the belief, I cannot help feeling anxious and ill at ease.’

“His wife was so troubled that my brother determined on getting home as soon as possible. It took us longer than it otherwise would, because the wind went down soon after we got out of the bay, and it was no use landing on any part of the coast nearer than Pernambuco. As I did not share my sister-in-law’s fears with respect to Marie, I was not much troubled by the slowness of our progress; still I was not sorry when we anchored, for it had become so dismal on board that it was anything but a voyage of pleasure. I am almost afraid to tell you the rest—it appears so extraordinary. I did not leave Pernambuco with them, for I had to make preparations for going to sea again, and my time was short; but I made them promise to send a man with an account of the state of matters directly they reached home. The second day after this I had been dining with one of the government officials; and the cards had just been arranged on the table, and we were about to begin play, when one of the servants came to tell me that a messenger had brought a letter from my brother. I went out directly, and the first look at the fellow told me that something was wrong. I opened the letter on the spot. It confirmed Jacinta’s dream in every particular. Marie had been to a dance, came home a little