In 1881 a charming little volume of Essays, entitled, “_Waifs_,” was published by Messrs. Maclehose, of Glasgow. Mr. William Tait Ross, the author of these papers is well known in the northern capitals for his writings, published under the _nom de plume_ of Herbert Martyne. One of the most humorous chapters in “Waifs” is entitled _A Séance with a Sequel_, which recounts the author’s experiences at a spiritualistic meeting in Glasgow. He there interviews the ghost of one of the geese who saved Rome; the spirit of a duck who sailed in Noah’s Ark; the spirit of the late lamented Cock Robin; of the mouse turned over by Robbie Burns’s plough; and of the donkey celebrated by the Poet Coleridge. There is a good deal of dry humour in their replies, but the _séance_ comes to an untimely end, owing to a wild outburst of spiritual enthusiasm on the part of the table used for communicating with the spirits. This excitable piece of furniture suddenly made for the door, and was with difficulty restrained by four strong men. One of the party then getting alarmed, turned on the gas; in a moment all the commotion ceased; and so the séance ended. “I will add,” says the author, “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 those obtained at any _séance_ recorded in the annals of spirit rapping.” The chapter concludes with the following verses in imitation of “The Raven,” entitled―― A SEQUEL. THE SPIRITS. Lately on a midnight dreary, Sitting by the fire so cheery, Listening to the storm that beat and blew With blustering gust and roar; While I sat serenely smoking, Suddenly there came a knocking 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, Presently my legs grew stronger, And, brandishing the poker, I strode towards the door; 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.