"
"Indeed," said Charley, taking it from her hand with some curiosity,
"it seems a curious ornament for a sitting-room. May I ask whom it
belonged to when it had flesh about it?"
"It is the skull of Swedenborg," answered Mrs. Basil. "A near relative
of mine was a disciple of his, and left it to me as a most precious
relic."
"But how the deuce did he get possession of it?" inquired the young man.
"Well, not very fairly, as it seems to me," smiled the landlady. "While
your mother sits down and rests herself--for I am afraid you have
frightened her a bit--I'll tell you the story."
"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Coe, faintly; "I shall be better presently; don't
mind me."
"Well, the tale runs thus, Sir. Swedenborg was buried in the vault
beneath the Swedish embassador's chapel in Princes Square, Ratcliffe
Highway; and a certain theologian having once affirmed that all great
philosophers took their bodies with them into the world of spirits, and
that this gentleman had done the like, leave was obtained to settle this
point by actual examination. The body was found, and the theologian
confuted, but no trouble was taken to solder on again the lid of the
coffin. A thieving Swede, attending a funeral of one of his countrymen
in the same vault, remarked this circumstance, and stole the skull, with
the intention of selling it to some disciple of the great philosopher's;
and I am ashamed to say that he found a purchaser in my respected
relative: and that's how I became possessed of Swedenborg's skull.
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