It will be proper to take notice in this place, by way of digression, of a very remarkable event, or rather series of events, that happened before Mr. Cranstoun's last departure for Scotland. One day whilst my mother and I were last in London, we were talking of the immortality of the soul; and the subject we were then upon led us insensibly to a discourse of apparitions; and that again to a promise we made each other, that the first of us who died should appear to the survivor, after death, if permitted so to do. My mother dying first, in the manner already related, I sometimes retired into the room where she died, in hopes of seeing her. Here I lay near half a year, earnestly desiring to see my mother, without being able either to see or hear any thing. After this, my father lay in that room; but for some time neither saw nor heard any thing. Afterwards, one night, he taxed me with being at his chamber door, rapping at it, rushing with my silk-gown, and refusing to answer him when he called to me. My chamber was at a small distance from his, and into it he came the next morning: demanding for what reason I had so frighted him. To this I replied, "I had never been at his door, nor out of my bed the whole night." He then inquired of all the maids, who only lay in the house, whether any of them disturbed him; to which they all answered in the negative. Soon after this, Mr. Cranstoun came to Henley, as has been already observed, and was put into a room, called the hall-chamber, over the great parlour; which was reckoned the best in the house. Here he was shut out from the rest of the family. Till October 1750, above a year after my mother's death, no noise at all was heard, excepting that at Mr. Blandy's chamber-door above mentioned. But one morning in the beginning of that month, Mr. Cranstoun being in the parlour, I asked him, "What made him look so pale, and to seem so uneasy?" "I have met," said he, "with the oddest accident this night that ever befel me: the moment I got into bed, I heard the finest music that can possibly be imagined. I sat up in my bed upon this, to hear from whence it came; and it seemed to me to come from the middle of the stairs. It continued, as I believe, at least above two hours." At this I laughed, and said, "O Cranstoun, how can you be so whimsical?" "Tis no whim," replied he, "for I really heard it; nor had I been asleep; for it began soon after I got into bed." I then said, "Don't make yourself uneasy, if it was so; since nothing ill, sure, can be presaged by music." When my father came into the parlour, this topic of conversation was instantly dropped. The next night, I, who lay quite at the other end of the house, being awake, heard music, that seemed to me to be in the yard, exceeding plainly. Upon this, I got up and looked out of the window that faced the yard, but saw nothing. The music, however, continued till near morning, when I fell asleep, and heard no more of it.