Observations placeholder

from Light Magazine, October 19, 1881.

The narrator was a physician:

One day, my patient said, while in a little parlour behind the shop he heard music so loud that he thought an organ was being played at the open street door. Preparing to go and shut it, he heard his wife calling from the kitchen stairs, asking him to send the organ man away, for the sake of a sick lodger, with whom she had much sympathy. The street door was not open, and now the music sounded from above.

“My wife hastened up the stairs," he said, “and l, as mystified as she was, followed, for we knew there was neither musician nor musical instruments in the house except my own violin, hanging up in the parlour. The door of the sick woman's bedroom was ajar, and my wife, who frequently visited her, pushed it open and with a gesture of wonder beckoned to me. There was the sick woman, lying in bed, gazing upwards, her hands raised as if in rapt astonishment, the music sounding within the room. Presently the hand fell, the music died away as if in the distance, and then we saw that she had ceased to breathe."

My patient's wife was present and confirmed the narrative as it went on. They said they were unable to account for the music, and felt driven to the conclusion that it was unearthly.