Mompesson from a vagrant musician.  This man seems to have been as much vexed as Parolles by the loss of his drum, and the Psychical Society at Ragley believed him to be a magician, who had bewitched the house of his oppressor.  While Mrs. Mompesson was adding an infant to her family the noise ceased, or nearly ceased, just as, at Epworth, in the house of the Rev. Samuel Wesley, it never vexed Mrs. Wesley at her devotions.  Later, at Tedworth, ’it followed and vexed the younger children, beating their bedsteads with that violence, that all present expected when they would fall in pieces’. . . .  It would lift the children up in their beds.  Objects were moved:  lights flitted around, and the Rev. Joseph Glanvill could assure Lady Conway that he had been a witness of some of these occurrences.  He saw the ’little modest girls in the bed, between seven and eight years old, as I guessed’.  He saw their hands outside the bed-clothes, and heard the scratchings above their heads, and felt ‘the room and windows shake very sensibly’.  When he tapped or scratched a certain number of times, the noise answered, and stopped at the same number.  Many more things of this kind Glanvill tells.  He denies the truth of a report that an imposture was discovered, but admits that when Charles II. sent gentlemen to stay in the house, nothing unusual occurred.  But these researchers stayed only for a single night.  He denied that any normal cause of the trouble was ever discovered.  Glanvill told similar tales about a house at Welton, near Daventry, in 1658.  Stones were thrown, and all the furniture joined in an irregular corroboree.  Too late for Lady Conway’s party was the similar disturbance at Gast’s house of Little Burton June, 1677.  Here the careful student will note that ’they saw a hand holding a hammer, which kept on knocking’.  This hand is as familiar to the research of the seventeenth as to that of the nineteenth century.  We find it again in the celebrated Scotch cases of Rerrick (1695), and of Glenluce, while ‘the Rev. James Sharp’ (later Archbishop of St. Andrews), vouched for it, in 1659, in a tale told by him to Lauderdale, and by Lauderdale to the Rev. Richard Baxter. {94} Glanvill also contributes a narrative of the very same description about the haunting of Mr. Paschal’s house in Soper Lane, London:  the evidence is that of Mr. Andrew Paschal, Fellow of Queen’s College, Cambridge.  In this case the trouble began with the arrival and coincided with the stay of a gentlewoman, unnamed, ’who seemed to be principally concerned’.  As a rule, in these legends, it is easy to find out who the ‘medium’ was.  The phenomena here were accompanied by ‘a cold blast or puff of wind,’ which blew on the hand of the Fellow of Queen’s College, just as it has often blown, in similar circumstances, on the hands of Mr. Crookes, and of other modern amateurs.  It would be tedious to analyse all Glanvill’s tales of rappings, and of volatile furniture.  We shall see that, before his time, as after it, precisely similar narratives attracted the notice of the curious.  Glanvill generally tries to get his stories at first hand and signed by eye-witnesses.