eaceable, Christian man, with a good many of the
Quaker ways about him.

The spirit-rappings, which originated with the Fox family of N.Y.
eight or ten years before, were still exciting the people in southern
Indiana. It so happened that a Mr. Wilson, a learned justice of the
peace, lived in Tophet, at the time I taught school there, and was a
medium. I boarded and lodged at his house a part of the time. Let
me state a few facts and these occurred in my experience while there.
That rapping kept up, especially if you paid any attention to it,
more or less, day and night. Every afternoon and evening after
school, when I returned to my boarding place, I could hear the
rapping on my chair, or desk, or somewhere in the room. Or, if out
of doors, on some object near me. If out after dark that rapping was
sure to get directly between me and the door. Was it good or evil,
saint or sinner, I knew not. I could explain nothing. I could
believe nothing. I could lay hold of nothing. I could let go of
nothing. I only heard rapping. And it made no difference whether
Mr. Wilson, the medium, was at home or not, the rapping went on all
the same.

One long afternoon as I was sitting at a window reading a book, Mrs.
Wilson was sitting across the room at another window, busy at work
and at the same time humming a tune. All at once, that rapping
commenced, on a cupboard standing in the corner, in a clear, distinct
musical way, so much so that it attracted my attention from my
reading and Mrs. Wilson saw me looking towards the cupboard. She
said, "Lizzie, is that you?" There came a loud, distinct rap. As
much as to say yes. Then Mrs. Wilson said, "Can you beat (play) that
tune I was humming." I suspect Mr. Hastings would like to hear it."
At once the beating (rapping) commenced and continued for quite a
while. It sounded very much like the tapping of a drum. It played
the tune. I do not think that I ever listened to any music with so
much interest and curiosity as I listened to that rapping.

One embarrassing and annoying part of the rapping was every night,
when I would retire to my bed that rapping would keep up its rapping
upon the head board of my bed, both before and after I would blow out
the light. When I found out they called it Lizzie I would say,
"Please Lizzie, let me o to sleep." And it would cease, and I would
sleep. To confess, boys, I often felt a little scared, especially
when out of doors in the d