may be corrected. To refuse to do this, is the extreme of egotism; while unquestioning submission to another's convictions is the extreme of slavishness.)

12. To promote charity and toleration for all differences, in so far as they result from variations in mental constitution, experience, and growth.

13. To cultivate and wisely direct the affectional naturemaking persons more kind, fraternal, unselfish, angelic.

14. To quicken the religious nature, giving a more immediate sense of the divine existence, presence, power, wisdom, goodness, and parental care than is apt to be felt without a realization of angelic ministry or mediation.

15.-To quicken all philanthropic impulses, stimulating to enlightened and unselfish labours for universal human good,under the encouraging assurance that the redeemed and exalted spirits of our race, instead of retiring to idle away an eternity of inglorious ease, are encompassing us about as a great cloud of witnesses, inspiring us to the work, and aiding it forward to a certain and glorious issue.

MANIFESTATIONS OF MUSIC, VOICE, AND
DIRECT WRITING.

SINCE my narrative of the séance at my friend Mr. George Childs' I have had the satisfaction of witnessing other manifestations, through the mediumship of his brother, Mr. Edward Childs, and of Mr. Austin.

A few evenings after the date of my notes, which appeared in the June No. of the Spiritual Magazine, Mr. George Childs with Mr. Austin called upon me in passing, and I read to them my notes of the séance in order that Mr. Childs might check any error of statement. My wife and her sister were present, and as I read we heard the voice, first, of the spirit who speaks in rustic voice and dialect, and who gives the name of Joseph Campion, then of Antonius Sancto. On adjourning to the next room for more complete absence of light, Sancto said that he was pleased with the notes I had taken the trouble to make, and offered to give further proof of his facility in using musical instruments. I placed on the table a common organ concertina, and a 6-keyed flute, an old "Potter," that I had not used for ten years, and which I now tried to get some notes from,

but in vain. Upon this flute, however, the spirit Sancto executed some rapid passages, and then put it down, saying that it was a good flute, but wanted oil and wadding. He then took up the concertina, and upon it played two parts of a now obsolete piece, the "Copenhagen Waltz," with exactness and brilliancy. Then, at request, he repeated some of the pieces he had delighted the circle with a few evenings before. Then he invited us to name airs for him to render, between the pieces chatting with us like a familiar acquaintance, Campion in a simple way taking part.

Sancto excused us while we returned to our former apartment for supper, and there we commented upon what we had witnessed. I remarked that he had not played the last and prettiest part of the "Copenhagen," a piece I knew, from it being among the earliest I learned on the flute half a century ago. Returning to our former seats, the wanting part was played, Sancto saying that it had escaped his recollection for the

moment.

In the course of conversation he said he was born at Nice, in 1774; his parents were in the musical profession; with them he went through France and Germany, and finally settled in England, where he departed this life; but not before he had learned nearly every instrument in the orchestra.

Mr. Childs, who is fond of operatic music, suggested various airs, and Sancto at once played them. In his play, what astonished us was his facility, combined with precision, force, and striking chords. At my request he played the "Carnival of Venice." I asked, "Is that after Bottesini?" He said, "No, it is my own arrangement; listen if you have ever heard this." He then played the air in triplets, the third note of each triplet being taken with the left hand, producing a most original effect; then variations, rapid variations, on the "Carnival of Venice,' played on a German concertina! He said, "Let me play something else for you, Doctor." I said, "I am just thinking of one of Hullah's simple airs, 'Down in a green and grassy vale.' Without a pause he went into it and through it. I asked, "How is it that in your hands the instrument has a more brilliant tone than in ours?" He said, "When I play, I play with all my soul; perhaps that makes a difference in favour of my play, I don't perceive the difference." "Will you kindly listen while I play the same air?" "With pleasure." I played it. "You play it well," he said, "and I fail to recognize any difference of tone." "Thanks for your complaisance, but Mr. Childs will agree with me that there is less brilliancy, the notes seem less vibrating. I think the difference is due to the instrument being in your sphere, which has some electrical effect upon it or upon

but

the atmosphere surrounding it." "If there is that difference you speak of, but again I say I do not perceive it, it may be due to such cause, but I don't know." "How is it you know music composed since you left the body ?" "Through mediums; in a musical audience spirits are sure to find mediums through whom they can know the music."

On a subsequent evening at a circle at Mr. Childs', after the introductions were over,-for the spirits ask to be separately introduced to each member of the circle, and while Sancto was engaged in writing his programme on paper, there and then initialled by those of the circle who wished, a spirit, who used the name of Ebenezer Wyatt, said, "While my friend Sancto is writing his programme, I will, if agreeable, and if Mr. Childs will favour me with a comb, make a little music of my own." A toilet comb was got and laid with a piece of tissue paper on the table. "Now, keep passive," said Ebenezer in a loud rough voice, " and all join hands," and presently we heard a well-executed impromptu, as if from a bassoon, the range of notes being two octaves. "Light" was called by Sancto, and on one of the initialled sheets of written a programme of "Musicke for ye eveninge."

paper was found

On settling ourselves like an audience Ebenezer again spoke, proposing that Mr. Sancto should be asked to be so kind as to illustrate musically a panorama in words. Sancto agreed: "The title of my panorama," said Ebenezer, "is a passage in the life of a young doctor. Now, please, Sancto, favour us with a prelude." Sancto played a few bars on the flute, and Ebenezer presented his verbal panorama, beginning with a young doctor going one of his daily rounds, performing here and there operations of various and increasing eccentricity. Dining on his return home, he takes a customary nap after dinner, and is awakened by the exclamations of a friend, who had been helping himself from a bottle on the table, containing not wine, but poison stuff, and so the doctor finishes his day giving antidotes to his own physic.

The "panorama " was divided into successive stages, each illustrated by characteristic music, by Sancto, on the flute. Then came the programme, Sancto taking the airs, Ebenezer accompanying well upon the comb. Sancto says that he found Ebenezer capable of musical expression, without having had the advantage of learning the manipulation of any instrument while in the body, and so had taught to produce sound from the comb. In this way Ebenezer played well the "Faust March," and "Sing Birdie Sing," to which we again heard the accompaniment as of a living bird. Sancto played some of his airs on the flute; some one remarked in a pause after the flute

playing that spirit lungs did not seem to require such frequent inhalation as a mortal's; when a note was blown, the hearing of which made one breathless, it was so long sustained.

Ebenezer, as if pleased with the general commendation of his comb-play, asked Sancto to oblige him by playing second to him on this occasion only, while he played "Auld Lang Syne." Sancto played his accompaniment on the violin, giving each verse in different style.

Another evening, Mr. Edward C. and Mr. Austin called on me very late, in passing, to apologize for not having paid a promised visit. While talking we heard Joe Campion's voice. I lowered the gas and closed the shutters; then came the voices of Amos, Sancto, and Ebenezer; then Ebenezer introduced another, his "brother Norton." Amos said they had incited the mediums to call, that he and his friends might thank me for my trouble in drawing up the report.

I said that when Sancto was here before, he could not play certain pieces on the concertina, for want of semitones on the instrument; that I had obtained one, and asked if he would try it. He did so, and after a little manipulation, played some difficult pieces upon it.

"Glad to see you like water, Doctor," broke in the exclaiming voice of Ebenezer. When my friends knocked at the door, I was reading with a tumbler of water before me, and now, in the dark, leaning my arm upon the table, I felt the tumbler and drank off the water as Sancto finished his play. I asked Sancto to play a certain piece, and he asked for the first bar. I struck a light to refer to the music, and took the concertina to play it, when I found the screw of the right hand strap had been shifted a hole forward, making it too short for any physical hand in the room to use. Sancto, having played the piece, said, "Then I am to understand, Doctor, that you have obtained this instrument expressly for these concerts ?" "Yes." "Then I will now play you a piece composed expressly for them and it." He played it, and afterwards a piece that he said was an echo of spirit-music, and strange and delightful it was.

Ebenezer of the loud voice said, "We ought not to go, Doctor, till Sancto has played Happy be thy Dreams '—I'd like to hear it." And he played it, and afterwards, another air, very beautifully; Ebenezer joining in loud encomiums.

July 2.-At a sitting at Mr. Childs' this evening, Mr. Austin-through whose mediumship Sancto and Escott manifest their action-was absent, and so the only music we had was Ebenezer's on the comb, Amos Ferguson as usual taking th direction of the circle, and announcing what his invisible con pany next proposed to do-this being, in addition to himse

Joseph Campion, Ebenezer and Norton Wyatt, and Alonzo Bates. The last is a spirit who is developing the capability of singing as he used to do when in the body.

Ebenezer was, as usual, exclamatory and self-asserting, objecting to his brother saying much, and disposed, seemingly, to wrangle with him. But Amos told us that their quarrelling was only fun. Ebenezer's facetiousness is surprising, his short stories droll, his jokes full of point, his puns as good and as bad as a burlesque writer's; he has a knowledge of theatrical matters, for, this evening he quoted from the "Lady of Lyons,' from a Victorian melodrama, and from Shakespeare: once he suddenly ceased, and Amos said, "Have patience a few moments, he has gone for another quotation." And immediately his voice was heard again, giving the quotation; I think if our friend Laman Blanchard could get acquainted with Ebenezer Wyatt, he might derive from him some telling points for his next Drury Lane piece.

This evening and on others, several of the circle took away with them, specimens of direct spirit-writing, executed on paper initialled there and then. Some of them autographs, others autographs accompanied by a few words of greeting or farewell. 8, Great Ormond Street, J. DIXON. July 26th.

"SPIRITUAL SEANCES."

UNDER the above heading the following letter appeared in the Manchester Examiner and Times of January 12th of the present year :

"To the Editor of the Examiner and Times.'"

Sir,-In availing myself of your offer to give me space for the other side,' or, in other words, to show that 'spiritual séances' are not all scenes of confusion, and that spiritual phenomena are not all unsatisfactory and repulsive, I wish to say that I do so, not as an advocate of 'Spiritualism,' but simply as an inquirer, who desires to avoid the hasty conclsyns which, in all ages, have led the multitude to denounce deride new sciences.

แ Personally, I hope the 'facts' and explanaos of Spiritualists are true; for I confess that I want to beliard n continued existence after what is called death, that I want ieve in the distinct continued personality of the so-called dead, that I want