"What!" thought the Author, "shall the Great Secret which has puzzled so many heads--heads in caps and heads in turbans, heads in bonnets and heads in berettas, as Heine hath it--shall the explanation of the Universe, which baffled Aristotle, and puzzled Hegel, and still more his readers, be the property of this wretched little unborn babe, this infant rapping in the night, and with no language but a rap? Was, then, Wordsworth right, and is our birth 'but a sleep and a forgetting'?" And, mingled with these questionings, a sort of compassion for the poor orphan spirit, inarticulate and misunderstood, beating humbly at the gates of speech. Natheless was the Author quite incredulous, and even while he was listening reverently to these voices from Steadland, his cold cynic brain was revolving a scientific theory to account for the striking manifestations. In the course of two or three _séances_, with lights turned low, but honesty burning high--for Lady Macbeth was guileless, and her Chaperon above suspicion,--various other "spirits" hastened to be interviewed. There was "Ma," who afterwards turned out to be the Chaperon's "Pa," whose name--a queer French name--it gave in full. The Chaperon's "Pa," who was dead, announced he was no longer a widower, for his relief had just rejoined him on Wednesday--the 10th. This news of her mother's death was unknown to the Chaperon. In truth, "Pa" is still a widower. Another "spirit"--a woman (who refused to give her age)--predicted that the amount of money taken at the theatre the next night would be £44. The actual returns on the morrow were £44 0_s_. 6_d_. But when, elated by its success, it prophesied £43, the returns were only £34. But this same creature, that gave only an inverted truth--perhaps it was momentarily controlled by the spirit of Oscar Wilde--displayed remarkable knowledge in other directions. Asked if it knew what piece had been played the week before in the theatre--a question that none of the three could have answered--it replied, "'The Road to ----'" "Do you mean 'The Road to Ruin'?" the Author interrupted eagerly, tired of its tedious letter-by-letter methods. "No," it responded vehemently; and finished, "'F-o-r-t-u-n-e.'" Lady Macbeth consulted the "Era," and sure enough "The Road to Fortune" had preceded her own company. "Can you tell us the piece to follow?" the author asked; and the "spirit" responded readily "'The Pro----'" "Do you mean 'The Professor's Love Story'?" the Author again interrupted. "No; 'The Prodigal,'" answered the table. "Ah! 'The Prodigal,'" echoed the Author, confounding it temporarily with "The Profligate"; but the spirit dissented, and added, "'Daughter.'" There being no means of verifying this for the moment, the Author proceeded to inquire for the piece to follow that, and was unhesitatingly informed that it was "The Bauble Shop." "Where is 'The Bauble Shop' now?" he inquired. The spirit amiably rapped out "Eastbourne." This was correct