One evening they had been more quiet than usual. We remained some time at the table, and began to hope that things were going to be better with us, when we were suddenly startled and shocked by sounds from the piano, which was open in the parlor. The lower bass key tolled the death-knell, solemnly and distinctly, while we sat at the table, unable for a time to stir. At length I went into the parlor, closed the piano, locked it, and took the key with me; but the sounds kept on. No other demonstrations were made during the night, but the tolling of that knell inside the locked piano. While this solemn sound was made, they would make no other disturbances. Calvin had not yet returned. The door-bell rang, and Mr. and Mrs. Post came in. On hearing these sounds Mr. Post went for Mr. and Mrs. Bush. When Mr. Bush came and listened to the solemn sounds a few minutes, he fell upon his knees and prayed to God to sustain this family if, in his great wisdom, he had chosen them as instruments through whom mankind should be benefited. Still the dreadful sounds continued until about one o'clock. Our friends left, and we retired to our sleeping-rooms to try and rest, if possible. We seldom all slept at once, as we were sure to be disturbed by some frightful exhibition, if we allowed our light to go out. We were getting ready for bed, when we heard a wagon drive up to the side gate and a familiar voice say "Whoa" to his horses. Mother hastened to the door, and called out, "Oh! Stephen, who is dead? We have had a terrible warning of death, all night." Stephen, my sister Maria's husband, replied, "No one is dead, that I know of. But David's little Ella was supposed to be dying when I left, I have come to take you back with me." He fed his horses, rested a short time on the sofa, and about four o'clock started for Arcadia, with mother and Maggie. The sounds on the piano ceased. When we received a message from Arcadia, it was to this effect: that dear little Ella was alive when they reached home, but died the next day. We had been warned, in the spring, when I was there in company with Mrs. Grover and Mrs. Granger, that a death would take place in our family. The words were written on a block of wood corresponding exactly with those the children had brought from the new house which was being built by my father, within speaking distance of brother David's home. The communication, written in plain letters and thrown through the open window in broad daylight, read as follows: "One of your family will die. She will be happy with the angels; mourn not for her." I believed it would be mother, as she was so broken down and unhappy. We feared that she would not endure it much longer. The writing on the block had always troubled me. I was in the room when it was thrown in, and knew that no human power could have thrown it in at that window and escaped instant detection. CHAPTER IV. ROCHESTER (_Continued_).