[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] SIR, —After seeing your note
in connexion with my brother's letter under this heading in the Spectator of Saturday last, I feel I must send a few lines about our experience. There is, I think, hardly anything which I can add in the way of new evidence, as we found, on comparing notes, that our impres- sions had coincided in a remarkable degree. I can, however, corroborate all that my brother has said. We did go to the cemetery on April 10th at the time stated. We stood by the grave that was covered with violet leaves, and became conscious of the scent of violets, and, looking down, saw the flowers popping up among the leaves, and they disappeared in the way my brother has mentioned. I should like to say that the individual violets remained long enough for us to point them out severally to each other. I might mention that there were two names oa the gravestone, that of Elizabeth Wyckhoff and another that I cannot remember; I think it was that of a woman, probably that of a near relative of the former. The grave was lower down and nearer the entrance than that of Shelley, and not in the older part of the cemetery where Keats is buried.—I am, Sir, &c.,
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