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 516 I assume was the instrument which executed the exquisite music described by the narrator, and which was so far beyond the compass of a stolid leather bellows.

The air was wild, and full of strange transitions; with a wail of the most pathetic sweetness running through it. The execution was no less remarkable for its delicacy than its power. When the notes swelled in some of the bold passages, the sound rolled through the room with an astounding reverberation; then, gently subsiding, sank into a strain of divine tenderness. But it was the close that touched the hearts, and drew the tears of the listeners. Milton dreamt of this wondrous termination when he wrote of “linked sweetness long drawn out.” By what art the accordion was made to yield that dying note, let practical musicians determine. Our ears, that heard it, had never before been visited by “a sound so fine.” It continued diminishing and diminishing, and stretching far away into distance and darkness, until the attenuated thread of sound became so exquisite that it was impossible at last to fix the moment when it ceased.

Of course, where the vanishing point was so extremely fine, it is difficult to interpose appropriately, “Bravo, mouth-harmonicon!” but I am not inclined to leave it to “practical musicians” to inquire if an accordion can yield that dying note. I have little doubt that a mouth-harmonicon deserved all the praise, and was really employed for these peculiar effects, more especially as during Mr. Home’s “aërial passage” it was subsequently heard from a distant corner of the room, while there is no evidence that the accordion was not still lying in the place beneath the table, to which it had descended, as I infer, by Mr. Home’s own agency.

My view does not in the least exclude the presumption that the accordion itself was a remarkable instrument. On the contrary, it possessed an internal mechanical capacity of motion, if not of sound, since it subsequently performed, or seemed to perform, in the full light, while held by the narrator and others who were present. It was even difficult to hold, a self-acting accordion being, as I infer, a far more athletic instrument than its self-performing relative a musical snuffbox. If I had myself encountered such an eccentric self-willed instrument, I should have greatly desired to impound it for careful examination. Mr. Howitt would refer me to Plato, and Zoroaster, to Moses and Mrs. Marshall, to rebuke my incredulity; but in answer to all such vapid generalities, I persist in giving to any one, who may witness a similar phenomenon, this significant piece of advice,—“Impound that accordion.”

I now come to the great superlative feat of all, the ascent and aërial passage of Mr. Home; and this is so important, that I am solicitous not to lose a word of the writer’s description, and extract it that we may see just what it amounts to.

Mr. Home was seated next to the window. Through the semi-darkness his head was dimly visible against the curtains, and his hands might be seen in a faint white heap before him. Presently he said in a quiet voice, “My chair is moving—I am off the ground—don’t notice me—talk of something else,” or words to that effect. It was very difficult to restrain the curiosity not unmixed with a more serious feeling, which these few words awakened; but we talked incoherently enough, upon some indifferent topic. I was sitting nearly opposite to Mr. Home, and I saw his hands disappear from the table, and his head vanish into the deep shadow beyond. In a moment or two more he spoke again. This time his voice was in the air above our heads. He had risen from his chair to a height of four or five feet from the ground. As he ascended higher he described his position, which at first was perpendicular, and afterwards became horizontal. He said he felt as if he had been turned in the gentlest manner, as a child is turned in the arms of a nurse. In a moment or two more, he told us that he was going to pass across the window, against the grey silvery light of which he would be visible. We watched in profound stillness, and saw his figure pass from one side of the window to the other, feet foremost, lying horizontally in the air. He spoke to us as he passed, and told us that he would turn the reverse way, and recross the window; which he did. His own tranquil confidence in the safety of what seemed from below a situation of the most novel peril, gave confidence to everybody else; but, with the strongest nerves, it was impossible not to be conscious of a certain sensation of fear or awe. He hovered round the circle for several minutes, and passed this time perpendicularly over our heads. I heard his voice behind me in the air, and felt something lightly brush my chair. It was his foot, which he gave me leave to touch. Turning to the spot where it was on the top of the chair, I placed my hand gently upon it, when he uttered a cry of pain, and the foot was withdrawn quickly, with a palpable shudder. It was evidently not resting on the chair, but floating; and it sprang from the touch as a bird would. He now passed over to the farthest extremity of the room, and we could judge by his voice of the altitude and distance he had attained. He had reached the ceiling, upon which he made a slight mark, and soon afterwards descended and resumed his place at the table. An incident which occurred during this aërial passage, and imparted a strange solemnity to it, was that the accordion, which we supposed to be on the ground under the window close to us, played a strain of wild pathos in the air, from the most distant corner of the room.

It is to be observed that the writer throughout speaks of this feat as really accomplished.

“Mr. Home had risen from his chair four or five feet he ascended higher  we saw his figure pass the window  he did recross it  he hovered round and passed over us  his foot was evidently floating  he reached the ceiling  he afterwards descended, and resumed his place at the table.” The spiritualists who quote this narrative quote it invariably in this sense, as if there was conclusive evidence that Home actually floated about the room. But if we examine the narrative we shall find that this is merely vague inference; and a very brief examination will show what the facts really amount to.

In the first place, there is no evidence that the corporeal Home was actually seen in the air at any time. His figure was seen passing and repassing the window, and even his figure was seen nowhere else. His foot was felt in the air at about the height of the narrator’s chair. His voice was