“It is that iron,” said he; “but what moves it?” “I don’t know,” said Mary; “it will soon rattle again, perhaps.” It was not long before he wished to hear again that noise. While looking steadily upon it, the iron fell to the floor. “There,” said he, “I knew it was the iron. I wonder what done that!” I stood near him, and impressed his mind with the conviction that spirits wrought such things. He was impressed, as we could; and, at length, said he, “if that old iron was not lifeless, I should believe it could move itself.” M. Oh, my worthy lord; do not--I shall be afraid of seeing ghosts, when I am alone. L. Pshaw; a ghost never made that noise. M. What then? It was not more than a second before the iron was uplifted about a foot, and fell on the floor. “Well: who knows what all this can mean?” said he. “The devil must be amusing himself. I wish he would come, and heal this dying man.” “You do not suppose the devil will do good?” said Mary. L. No; but, when I was not more than eleven years old, I recollect my mother said, “a good fountain can not send forth bitter water, nor a bitter fountain good water.” When we had aroused his mind on the subject of spirits, we wished to avail something which would be serviceable to the mind, writhing in distress. Accordingly, we worked so as to make a manifestation near the bed. He was now excited, and verily thought these sounds were premonitions of some awful visitation of Providence. L. It may not be doubted that there is some meaning to these sounds. If I were a believer in witchcraft, I would say that witches had something to do with these noises. Perhaps, it will appear that my days are numbered. If so, will another noise be made? My associate now responded by a sound, as before. The nobleman was horror-struck. “The devil is in this,” said he. “If my days are numbered, will that rattle of the iron be repeated?” The rattle was heard again. But gathering a little more courage, he said, mentally, “a coward is worse than a traitor. I am an Englishman. Never let it be said, that an Englishman is afraid of ghosts.” My guide then impressed his mind to ask, “do you want any thing of me?” The well known rattle responded. “Perhaps,” said he, “it will be well to call the doctor.” “Rattle, rattle,” was the response. “Now, there must be intelligence some where to produce these noises,” said he. “I do not know what may be the result. But do not be alarmed. I will send a man after my physician, and when he comes back, I will return. In the mean time, Mary, you may remember that ghosts never murdered any one. Have you wanted a little tea and sugar for John? It will not do him harm,--and you may take this half crown, and get what it will buy.” The unfortunate man was worse. He had heard what they had said about his dying. In a half conscious state of mind, he said, “Mary, what did he want? He need not be vexed about rent--he will not ask again where I am.”