Lillie has an abnormal faculty which often gives entertainment to her friends. She goes out of the room, and any member of the company may hide any small object wherever he may please--such as a key or coin or anything convenient. All the rest of the company are requested to fix their thoughts on the object and its place of concealment, while careful not to do or say anything to suggest a clue. On her entrance she takes his hand and applies it to her forehead, still holding on to it and keeping her eyes shut. She will then lead him to the spot where it is concealed. She moves by starts, he accompanying her passively. She very rarely fails to find the article concealed. MUSICAL MEDIUMSHIP. I might tell much of the indications of the mediumistic character which have run through the children of the generation following our own; that is to say, those of my brother and sisters and myself, including my nephew's little son of five years, who plays on a child's harmonica with astonishing accuracy and beauty, accompanying any musical performance and following every variation with whatever rapidity, with his face kindled with excitement and delight; the whole being spontaneous, without ever having had any instruction. He is (I have no doubt) a musical medium, of whom the world has seen several; the most remarkable one being the idiot boy known as "Blind Tom." It is indeed evident enough that this mysterious gift, or whatever it may be called, is not destined to die out with the present generation. The next instance of mediumship in the generation succeeding ourselves is such as to merit a chapter to itself. CHAPTER VII. MEDIUMISTIC VEIN IN OUR FAMILY (_Continued_). MARVELLOUS WRITING BY A BABY MEDIUM. But I must mention more particularly the case of my little nephew, the elder of the two children of my sister Katie, now Mrs. Jencken (pronounced Yencken); for I have now before me two pieces of writing actually executed by his baby fingers. The story of the incident is as follows: Katie and I were sitting at the billiard table, which then occupied the middle of our library, with the child in my lap; while his mother, at my side, was relating some of the incidents of the day. (She had been calling on old friends.) The child being troublesome in his movements and cries, his mother, to quiet him, gave him the paper and pencil (it was a piece of white blotting paper, not much inked by use), as the child was fond of scratching lines and marks. She said, "There! take that, and keep still." He dropped the paper once or twice, and I picked it up and held one end of it, he holding the other; and with his disengaged hand I noticed that he was not making mere marks and scratches, but that he was actually forming letters, and I exclaimed, "Why, Katie, he is writing!"