that we should not be interrupted by callers. I was reading "Memoirs of the Wesley Family," when the alphabet was called for by the usual signal. I repeated the letters as they came through the alphabet, and wrote them as designated successively by the Spirit, viz.:

"GAGCBAGAGEFEFAGFEFG FEDAGGCEDGGCB

AGCCDBC."

These letters could not, of course, be construed into words, and I cast them aside saying, "This must be the Spirit of Johnny Story," a simple boy whom we had known when living, who could never be taught to read. The alphabet was again called for and the message given by the Spirit was, " Apply the letters to your piano.'

On doing so I recognized in them, to my surprise and delight, a sweet and tender melody. I was then told to set the music to "Haunted Ground" in Mrs. Hemans's Poems, but with the variation of changing "Haunted" to "Hallowed" in the last verse.

Professor J. J. Watson has kindly arranged the accompaniment for the organ and piano, as on the next page.

I have always considered this one of the most beautiful and interesting tests I have ever received. It certainly was not mind-reading. The letters as given had of course conveyed no sense to me, nor any idea of musical notes. In connection with the music thus given for the poem with its altered name, I presume that it is proper to reproduce the poem itself.

HAUNTED GROUND.

And slight, withal, may be the things which bring
Back on the heart the weight which it would fling
Aside forever-it may be a sound,

A tone of music, summer eve, or spring,

A flower-the wind-the ocean--which shall wound

Striking the electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound.

-BYRON.

Yet fear thou not, for the spell is thrown, And the might of the shadow 's on Shadows yet un - to which life seem'd bound, And is it not-is it not

me a - lone. haunted ground?

Retardando.

crescendo.

Retardando.

qui et scene, Fair as it looks, and all soft ly green; whisp'ring leaves, Wo ven such dreams as the young heart weaves?

Yet fear thou not, for the spell is thrown, And the might of the shadow 's on Shadows yet un- to which life seem'd bound, And is it not-is it not

me alone. haunted

ground?

Retardando.

Retardando.

HAUNTED GROUND.-MRS. HEMANS.

Verse 3.

Have I not lived 'midst these lonely dells,
And loved, and sorrowed, and heard farewells,
And learn'd in my own deep soul to look,
And tremble before that mysterious book?

Have I not, under these whispering leaves,
Woven such dreams as the young heart weaves?
Shadows-yet unto which life seemed bound,
And is it not-is it not haunted ground?

Must I not hear what thou hearest not,
Troubling the air of this sunny spot?
Is there not something to none but me
Told by the rustling of every tree?

Song hath been here--with its flow of thought,
Love with its passionate visions fraught;
Death-breathing stillness and sadness round-
And is it not-is it not haunted ground?

Are there no phantoms, but such as come

By night from the darkness that wraps the tomb ?—
A sound, a scent, or a whispering breeze
Can summon up mightier far than these!

But I may not linger amidst them here!

Lovely they are, and yet things to fear;

Passing and leaving a weight behind,

And a thrill on the chords of the stricken mind.

Away, away, that my soul may soar,

As a free bird of blue skies once more,

Here from its wing it may never cast

The chain by those Spirits brought back from the past.

Doubt it not-smile not-but go thou, too,

Look on the scenes where thy childhood grew-
Where thou hast prayed at thy mother's knee,
Where thou hast roved with thy brethren free;

Go thou, when life unto thee is changed,
Friends thou hast loved as thy soul, estranged;
When from the idols thy heart hath made,
Thou hast seen the colors of glory fade;

Oh! painfully then, by the wind's low sigh,
By the voice of the stream, by the flower-cup's dye,
By a thousand tokens of sight and sound,

Thou wilt feel thou art treading on hallowed ground.