She anticipated my every wish, even to such trivial matters as passing things at table, &c.

After these séances had gone on for some time, the mesmerist had to return to Cambridge, and Miss M'Gorgon got a situation in another family. It would seem, however, that her strange spiritual influence was still felt by the young student while at college, for the furniture in his room seemed to move about, and the weird sentence "Till death us do part" sounded frequently, as if from some ghostly voice, in his ears. During vacation he again returned to the old parsonage, where his sleeping-room and study were at the top of the house; and with this introduction the reader will understand the very strange account with which Mr. Davies closes his narrative.

On Christmas-eve I was regaling myself with a musical practice in my sky parlour, and certainly nothing was farther from my thoughts than Miss M'Gorgon or magnetism, when I was startled out of my serenity by hearing in the next room, which had been the M'Gorgon bed chamber, unmistakable "thuds" of what I used to term irreverently the M'Gorgon "beetle-crushers." There was no mistake about it. Somebody or something was walking up and down the next room with that most martial and inimitable tread.

I confess to being thoroughly frightened, and to making a summary retreat. To save my life I could not have opened the door of the M'Gorgon chamber, which I knew, or believed, to be locked and tenantless. I even had to pause a moment to get my breath, and recover my equanimity before I entered the drawing room.

"Come to the fire," said my stepmother; "you look fearfully cold. Why do you mope yourself in that attic of yours? In fact, now I look at you—you are worse than cold—you are ill and haggard. Do pray obey your doctors, and exchange books and music for exercises in the open air.' I promised compliance; and my father, looking up from his Guardian, said, "You will be sorry to hear your old 'patient,' Miss M'Gorgon, is very ill, and not expected to live."

I hope, sir, my patient does not attribute her ailment to my treatment." 'No; I fancy it is only a re-appearance of an old and hereditary pulmonary affection. I think you may make yourself easy on the score of your treatment, which as far as I could see, extended only to the head and heart.'

'By the way," I added, in a tone of assumed carelessness, sipping my tea as I asked, "who occupies Miss M'Gorgon's room now?"

I was told as I had expected, that the room had been locked ever since Miss M'Gorgon's departure. Indeed, my mother showed me the key in her basket, asking me jokingly, "She has not come back to claim her plighted spouse, has she-till death us do part?' " she added, in a hoarse voice like that of Miss M'Gorgon.

I told them, as laughingly as I could, how I fancied I had heard the M'Gorgon "thud" next me. I saw my father and mother exchange significant glances, as much as to say, "He is nervous;" and a good drive across the country was proposed next day.

I am ashamed to say how childishly afraid I was to go to bed that night. No infant in a dark room ever dreaded "bogey worse than I did that ponderous tread. Whilst I was spinning out the last few minutes, with my candlestick in my hands, the very lamp on the table quivered, and the ornaments rattled on the mantel-piece, as the same dull, heavy footstep resounded in the room above us, which had been the children's school-room. We all turned pale as ghosts ourselves, and my father and mother exclaimed at once, "Miss M'Gorgon!" As for me, I was speechless; and as I stood so, though I was quite sure no one else could hear a sound, the words seemed hissed into my ear, "Till death us do part."

The usual examinations of the house were made; the servants all found to

be quiet in bed, the room undisturbed, &c. The footsteps seemed to cross it but once, and we heard no more.

We agreed upon the customary explanation which palpably satisfied none of us-that we "fancied" we had heard what we were quite certain we did hear; and we parted for the night. I dared not confess my cowardice; but I would have given anything to have had a companion for that night. In plain simple English, I went to bed in a terrible fright. I tumbled in more expeditiously than ever I had in my life, and buried my head under the bed-clothes, not daring to look out into the darkness. I fancy I was dozing off, when suddenly the bells of the little village church clashed out discordantly. I had forgotten all about its being "Christmas Day in the morning," and started up in bed, the more so on account of my nervousness from another source. It was utterly dark; but at the bottom of the bed there was something, palpable to some sense, analogous to that which had kept pealing through my ears those ominous words, "Till death us do part."

The something which I thus saw, yet did not see, appeared like a tall scraggy luminous mass, with two intensely light spots about the place where eyes might have been expected. At the same time as I saw, yet did not see, this, I heard in the same negative kind of way, the same loathsome words, as it were drilled into my very ears, “Till death us do part. It could not have been common sight or common hearing, for in each of these cases time is necessary to impinge upon the senses; and as it was, I was down in bed again, buried deeper than ever, "like a shot," as we say. Turning my bedclothes, bolster, and pillows into a veritable sarcophagus, I managed to dull all external sights and sounds; even the clanging bells did not reach my ears; but still before my eyes was the spectrum of the "something" I had seen; and a voice that seemed to grow more and more subjective-seemed, as it were, to retreat within the innermost chambers of consciousness-still repeated "Till death us do part. I promised to be yours till then; I have kept my promise. If you dare to doubt it, look at your watch in the morning, and remember the Christmas bells."

After that, silence-but not sleep. Through that weary Christmas morning I never lost consciousness; nor did I emerge from my sarcophagus until the sound of a brass band under my window-the brass band I had "coached" for the occasion-saluted my ears with an air I had myself selected as being not too secular sounding for that sacred day, namely "Pestal," With what a new meaning the vocal chorus seemed to strike on my ear, the chorus I had meant only to be an effective slow march!

I

I jumped out of bed, let the welcome daylight in at the window, and waved my hand by way of compliment to my bucolic band down among the snow. expected to feel "seedy," and did miss my night's sleep a little; but a good "sluish" in cold water soon got over this, and to my astonishment I felt better than I had done for months. A weight seemed removed from me. I had almost a difficulty in recalling the events of the past night, or the words that up to that time had caused me so much discomfort.

What was the time? I sought my watch on its usual hook at the head of my bed. It was not there! I could have sworn I hung it there on the previous night. After diligent searching I found it lying on the floor, at the foot of the bed, and almost underneath it. It had stopped at about half-past twelve!

Whether this had anything to do with my luminous visitant, or whether in my fright I tumbled it down, and so stopped it, I do not pretend to determine. Had the event stood by itself, that would, of course, have been the natural explanation. Even the M'Gorgon "thud," had I alone heard it, might have been attributed to anti-matrimonial views on my part towards the lady in question.

As to the poor girl herself, she troubled no one farther with her presence, matrimonial, magnetic, or otherwise. She became rapidly worse on Christmaseve, and whilst the bells were beginning to chime in the Christmas morning, passed away. Her last articulate words were, "Till death us do part," which of course the watchers attributed to a blighted love dream of the poor governess. She continued murmuring for some time, and at half-past twelve died.

We did not hear of the event for some time, and I had carefully noted all

the above particulars in my diary before the news reached me. When the letter arrived I fetched the volume down, and laid it quietly open before my father. He read it very carefully, and from time to time compared it with the contents of the black-edged letter in his hand. At last he rose and returned me my manuscript with the solitary remark, "A very strange coincidence! and so retired to his study-I have no doubt to append a side-note to his sermon on the being, nature, and attributes of Beelzebub.

NOTES AND GLEANINGS.

THE REV. EDWARD WHITE AND THE CONGREGATIONALIST." In the March number of the Congregationalist is an article by the Rev. Edward White, Minister of the Congregational Church, Kentish Town, on "The Sin of Necromancy," with special reference to Modern Spiritualism, and based entirely on the prohibition of the Mosaic Law, as contained in Deuteronomy. It is the old objection raised by Mr. White, and demolished by Mr. William Howitt, fourteen years ago, in his controversy with the reverend gentleman in the British Spiritual Telegraph. A reply to the article in the Congregationalist was sent to that magazine by Mr. Robert M. Theobald, minister of the Congregationalist body, and a Spiritualist, but it was refused insertion. We make from it the following extract:

It is quite conceivable that in the infancy of society, when a feebly cultured and immature race was surrounded by all shapes of foul idolatry, it might be dangerous for them to be brought en rapport with the incantations, or demonworship, or slavish subserviency to the lower forms of spirit-life which were characteristic of the heathen ritual. That danger does not now exist; but other dangers exist, which may perhaps require to be treated in a directly opposite manner. Rank infidelity and materialism rear their bold front among us, and our present resources of Christian teaching are powerless against them; while Spiritualism has proved itself their most effectual antagonist, as offering the only possible scientific demonstration of the continued existence of spirit-life, after it had ceased to be connected with a material organism. Moreover, it is a very safe principle to act upon that all the possibilities of human nature in the way of knowledge and experience are intended to be used; also that different classes of facts are providentially intended and arranged to present themselves for investigation in successive stages of human progress and culture, and that we are not honouring God by neglecting any class of facts which He has placed within our reach, and brought forward conspicuously, as if to challenge our research, even though He may have had wise reasons for shutting them up from His people in former times.

And after referring to the spiritual character of the Christian dispensation, the outpouring of spiritual power on the day of Pentecost and the teaching of the Apostles concerning spiritual gifts and trying the spirits, Mr. Theobald points out that "The Apostles appeared by this teaching expressly to repeal the

Jewish law to which Mr. White has appealed, and Mr. White by his retrogression into Judaism leaves the Apostolic injunction almost empty of its force and application."

A SPIRIT LEAVING THE BODY.

"The late Mr. J. Holloway, of the Bank of England, brother to the engraver of that name, related of himself, that being one night in bed, and unable to sleep, he had fixed his eyes and thoughts with uncommon intensity on a beautiful star that was shining in at the window, when he suddenly found his spirit released from his body and soaring into space. But instantly seized with anxiety for the anguish of his wife, if she discovered his body apparently dead beside her, he returned, and re-entered it with difficulty. He described that returning as a returning from light into darkness, and that whilst the spirit was free, he was alternately in the light or the dark, accordingly as his thoughts were with his wife or the star."*

THE LATE MR. J. W. JACKSON ON SPIRITUALISM.

In a letter now before us of the late Mr. J. W. Jackson, dated "Glasgow, May 16th, 1864," he refers to papers written by him in the Zoist, in proof that at even at that early time he entirely admitted the facts of Spiritualism as "undeniable, because reproducible, as historically and experimentally demonstrated their reception is simply a question of time." He counsels moderation in controversy in words which are worth recalling. He says, "The experience of a life devoted to the advocacy of an unpopular truth convinces me that no cause is ultimately advantaged by the abuse of its opponents." In regard to the opposition to Spiritualism of men of science, he remarks:-"The facts of Spiritualism need not wait on their acceptance for recognition, they are above and beyond the favour and affection of individuals, and should dispense with the "His patronage of authority and the assistance of great names.' letter ends with the following sound practical advice:

"And now in conclusion, let me most earnestly advise the friends of Spiritualism to render their proceedings practically useful. Let them advance, with such haste as they may, from the thaumaturgic to the beneficent. Whatever else your spiritual circles may be, they are obviously mesmeric batteries of stupen

"The Book of Were-wolves," By SABINE BARING-GOULD, M.A.

dous power, and whatever may be the other claims of your media, many of them, especially when sustained and energized by the circle, must have healing and introvisional faculties of no ordinary character. Apply these. You have the noblest of all possible examples. With profound reverence be it spoken, the greatest Medium this world ever saw, did not disdain to heal the sick, nay, by all accounts, made it His chief business to thus go about doing good,' His wonders' in this kind, obviously constituting the staple of His biography. It will doubtless be said that healings are thus occasionally effected by Spiritualists. I know it, but at present they seem exceptional; why should they not, as in the Divine example just cited, become the rule? All however in good time: we ought not perhaps to expect the fruits of autumn amidst the blossoms of spring. At present, Spiritualism is in the wonder-loving stage of childhood. In due course it will doubtless put away childish things, and then its discourse both written and oral will be, not about the marvels which it has wrought, but the good which it has been privileged to accomplish."

THE EXPERIENCE OF THE PIONEERS OF SCIENCE THE PARALLEL OF THAT OF THE PIONEERS OF SPIRITUALISM.

"One is almost ready to despair of the cause of scientific progress-to despair at least that that progress will ever be so rapid as it might readily become-when one finds that each new result must be established over and over again before it is admitted by a large proportion of the scientific world. It may be remarked, indeed, that the progress of science has been at least as seriously checked by undue caution as by undue boldness. It would seem almost as though some students of science were continually in dread lest the work of our observers should become too productive. The value of scientific observation seems to be enhanced in their eyes precisely in proportion as its fruits are insignificant. In all ages there have been those who would thus unwisely restrain the progress of legitimate inquiry. 'We must not admit that Jupiter has moons,' they said of old; 'the Evil One may have sent these appearances to deceive us. Let us wait for further observations.' The sun cannot have spots,' they reasoned again,' for the Eye of the Universe cannot suffer from ophthalmia. These things are illusions; let us wait for more satisfactory observations. The idea that the sun-spots wax and wane in a definite period is too fanciful for acceptance; and still more absurd is the conception that terrestrial magnetism can have any relation whatever with the progress of solar disturbance. We must wait for fresh researches.' Who can believe that flame, or