restrained by four strong men (the medium being incapable). Finding itself thus baulked, it twisted off its legs, which almost went through the ceiling owing to the great force with which they were projected upwards. It then threw itself on its back, and shuffled along the floor towards the door, but, finding it could not obtain egress, returned to the centre of the room, and was making strenuous efforts to recover its legs, when one of the party, getting alarmed, turned on the gas; in a moment the commotion ceased; and so the séance ended. I will add nothing by way of comment, except this, that the answers obtained from the various spirits seem to me to be even more sensible and important than any obtained at any séance recorded in the annals of spiritrapping-I beg your pardon, celestial telegraphy. A SEQUEL. THE SPIRITS. Lately on a midnight dreary, Sitting by the fire so cheery, Listening to the storm that beat and blew As of some one rudely poking, Poking at my chamber door "Tis some dirty ill-bred spirit Knocking at my chamber door— Only that and nothing more." But to face the audacious knocker I seized the shining poker, While my heart went jumping, thumping, As I never felt before; For through the storm's loud shrieking I heard high voices speaking 'Tis some thief's ghost that is sneaking On the outside of the door Some vile spirit entrance seeking By the keyhole of the door This perhaps and nothing more. Hesitating then no longer, When, without one word of fable, The ponderous parlour table Marched as fast as it was able Right across the parlour floor; Danced across the room, and then assumed Its post beside the door Which is true, and something more. Outside louder grew the knockings, Till I shook within my stockings, And then there came a thundering bang, Far louder than before; While the ponderous parlour table Danced as fast as it was able, 'Tis a drunk man, nothing more. For now I well remember, In the dark days of December, On t'other side the door Only that and nothing more. So pulling up my breeches, With many tugs and hitches, I turned the key within the lock I very much deplore I think I rather swore. And, shouting for a bobby, Till my voice rang through the lobby, I made efforts to collect myself Lying spilt upon the floor; But it's a fact outrageous That no guardian beak courageous, With whiskers so umbrageous, I crawled towards the door Darkness there and nothing more. 76 THE PENNY DAILIES. I HAVE now before me a dingy old newspaper called the Glasgow Journal, published 30th October 1752. Its size, like the character of its contents, is very moderate. It consists of two folio leaves, each measuring about 18 inches long by 12 broad; it contains no "leaders," which I consider a great improvement on our present system; but is wholly made up of very small paragraphs of very small news, somewhat ancient before it reached the printers' hands, and quaint medleys of advertisements. The following announcement, however, concerning the movements of a certain "German Lairdie," who, notwithstanding the magnificent estate to which his dynasty had been called, seems to have left his heart behind him in the original "kail-yardie," is full of a meaning and importance for these islands, which we in these later times have been able to make out and understand in the light of the nation's history |