child or an unsociable poodle might be expected to do when coaxed by visitors to approach. The flow of melody was checked as necks were stretched, and the whisper went from one to the other in the circle, "Do you see that?" All did see it, but those near the cabinet with much more distinctness than those more remote.

"Good-evening, Mr. Baxter; we are all glad to see you, Mr. Baxter," said the stout end lady. "Won't you please to come out a little further so that all can see you?" she continued, in her most winning tones, and the figure glided out perhaps five or six feet from the cabinet in the midst of the circle. "Ah! that is very fine, thank you, Mr. Baxter. Now, Mr. Baxter," said the stout lady, who seemed to recognize the apparition as an old acquaintance, "won't you be so kind as to tell me of something which occurred during your life by which I can identify you, so that I may be sure that it is you who are here?" Mr. Baxter responded in a voice which was inaudible to those at a little distance, but which it seems was not so to the questioner, for she said he mentioned visiting an ice-cream saloon with her in life, a circumstance which she remembered distinctly. The history of Mr. Baxter, as we afterward learned it, was this: He was a believer in spiritualism, and one of the regular attendants upon the séances of the medium. At last he was missed from his accustomed seat, and nothing was seen of him for several weeks, when unexpectedly he advanced one evening in front of the cabinet. At first, we were told, it was thought to be his bodily presence, but it soon became evident that it was the "materialized" and not the material form. His first visit was made, it was said, while his body was yet unburied, and since that time he has attended the séances with all the regularity which characterized him in the flesh.

The form, after sundry slides in various directions, like the figures in a Punch and Judy show, finally slipped out of view altogether. Music revived, when again another shirt-front appeared, above it a heavy gray beard, and above that the dim outlines of a face. The classic sheet in which ghosts of olden times were enshrouded seemed to have been laid aside, and the clothing, so far as it could be discerned on our present visitor, was substantial and befitting the inclement season. It was the ordinary dress of a respectable citizen, made with all a tailor's care, and

covered by a heavy black cloak trimmed with fur. All this the writer saw, upon closer inspection, with his own eyes, if, in fact, he was at the time possessed of his ordinary vision and presumed mental sanity. The two end ladies did not recognize the newcomer. He was evidently not an acquaintance of the regular visitors, but might be of some of the new ones. Perhaps this thought may have inspired the medium, for out of the tent, in an unnatural, hoarse, whispering voice, came the words, "Let the two squaws lead up the brave S-, and hold his hands."

"Yes, Chippewa," said the stout woman. In explanation of the apparently impolite form of address to the ladies, it should be stated that the medium, Johnson, while within the tent, enters upon a trance condition, and is immediately taken possession of by a Chippewa chief, who, through him, directs all the movements within the circle, the medium himself being entirely passive, and after the séance is over knowing nothing of what has occurred while in the trance.

How the Chippewa, however, who in other respects seemed well acquainted with the English language, should have failed to learn the impropriety of addressing the respectable females of the circle as squaws, is not explained.

In obedience to the command of Chippewa Johnson, the brave S- advanced, and with his hands firmly held by the two end squaws, was introduced to the stranger.

"Let the brave S bring his friend," said the medium.

The voice came from the tent while the apparition was standing and bowing the compliments of the season to S outside, so that the unknown form was not Medium Johnson himself in a reorganized shape, unless he had the faculty of leaving his voice behind him in the cabinet. It happened that S had two friends with him, the doctor and the writer, and it became a question which of the two was to be honored. The end lady was appealed to to decide.

"Will the spirit tell if it is this one?" she asked, pointing to the doctor.

A single rap from an obscure corner said, "No."

"Or this one?" indicating the writer. Three raps responded, "Yes."

That individual advanced, and, in obedience to orders, took the hand of S whose other hand

back the folds of the tent. The medium was sitting in his chair, apparently asleep. He languidly moved his hands, rubbed his eyes, and seemed to arouse from his trance.

"You have been entirely unconscious and don't know what has taken place since you have been in the cabinet?" kindly questioned the end lady, so that the audience might learn the fact.

"I was so entirely," said the medium. One of the spectators of the evening was a reporter of a prominent newspaper, who had just published an account of the "materializations" of the Eddy brothers. He considered their manifestations much more marvelous than those we had just witnessed, and he was incautious enough to express his sentiments. The stout woman rebuked him in a tone of voice in striking contrast with the gentle, winning style of address with which she had just been coaxing bashful spirits to "come a little further out." She declared that the skepticism of the reporter had made the evening performance more unsatisfactory than it otherwise would have been, and she charged him with having "gobbled up" much of the "influence." When most of the company had retired, the medium took a solid iron ring, perhaps five inches in diameter, in his left hand, while with his right he laid hold of the hand of a skeptic. This he held firmly, and drew it into the cabinet with himself, leaving the doubter outside, with the exception of the forearm, which was concealed with the medium by the curtain of the tent. The skeptic, still holding the hand of his coadjutor in his own, in a few moments felt the iron ring slipping over the clasped hands and encircling his own arm. This spirit trick was accomplished with three individuals in succession. A cruel distrust suggested the thought that a series of rings might be concealed under the coat-sleeve of the juggler, instead of expanding so as to pass over his whole body, which otherwise would seem necessary. But a strict examination of the coatsleeve showed that its diameter at the wrist was not so great by one-third as that of the ring. Neither did the ring contain any concealed clasp which was discernible by material eyesight.

PART II.

With convictions somewhat unsettled, if not with minds unbalanced by the mysteries of their late entertainment, the three investigators, on a

following evening, were found in the parlors of another medium, who possessed a special faculty for the production and exhibition of “independent writing," another phase of the alieged spiritual manifestations. The medium was a slim, modest-looking young man, apparently not yet thirty years of age, evidently more intelligent and cultivated, and with a more pleasing expression of countenance, than the professor of materialization whom we had lately encountered. He had jetblack hair, small features, large liquid black eyes, and cheeks with red hectic-looking spots in the centre which, taken in connection with his narrow chest and stooping form, were suggestive of pulmonary disease. From our intercourse with him during the evening, we were led to believe that he was making no attempt to deceive us; that, on the contrary, he was outspoken, frank, and truthful, and that if there was any deception practiced he was a victim of it as well as ourselves. The room into which we were introduced was an ordinarily furnished back parlor, with a centre-table upon which were pieces of blank paper and slates; of these, two were small ones, similar in shape and size, the other a pair of folding-slates opening with a hinge.

We gathered around the table. The medium appeared to select the doctor for the first convert. Handing him a long slip of paper, "Now," said he, "write upon it in order the names of a dozen persons. Let one be the name of some one deceased with whom you would like to communicate. Let the others be the names of living or of fictitious persons." The doctor did so, and, in accordance with directions, he tore the slip of paper in a dozen pieces, each piece containing a name. These he crumpled up into little pellets, so that no writing was distinguishable, and deposited the paper balls upon a slate.

The medium now requested S, who of course knew nothing of what the doctor had written, to take up the pellets singly and drop. them one by one upon the table. As S— dropped the first one, directly beneath the table on the floor came a single rap or knock, "No." A second was dropped; a single rap, "No." A third, "No," and so on, until one was reached in response to which came three raps, meaning, "Yes."

The pellet remained untouched and unopened. The medium, after an interval of apparent ab

straction, during which he appeared to be listening to something, and his handsome black eyes appeared to be gazing into vacancy, took a pencil and upon a piece of paper he wrote a name, that of a lady, "Mrs. H. L. Manners."

"Is that the name?" said he, handing it to the doctor.

The doctor's face flushed as he read it, for it was the name of a deceased patient. Exactly the same experiment was tried with the writer later in the evening, and the name of one of the living persons mentioned was given in the same way by the medium, instead of the deceased. The doctor now requested to know where his patient died.

"The spirit will tell," said the medium. "Write the names of as many places as you choose, and let one be the name of the place, and crumple them all up as before."

This was done, and the raps indicated the correct name, "M― City." The pellets were so commingled that no one could tell which contained the correct signature, until the apparent intelligence beneath the table gave the indication which the bit of paper, when unfolded, verified.

In discussing the merits of the case among ourselves, the doctor was questioned as to the cause of death of his patient. This was rather a puzzling question to the doctor himself, for the death was somewhat sudden and the symptoms obscure.

"Perhaps the spirit will inform us," said the medium.

The doctor's face wore a serious and puzzled look as he said, "I hear writing and I feel the vibration within the slate ;" and in fact the sound of a slate-pencil at work, which no one who has ever been a school-boy will ever mistake or forget, was distinctly heard by every one in the party, apparently proceeding from within the closed slate. In a short time the scratching sound was heard no longer; the doctor opened the slate, and within he found one side covered with writing made by a slate-pencil, which itself was not to be found inside.

The communication was written in a clear, bold, running hand. It was to the effect that the writer was troubled by the number of spirits who were present, and who were all "clamoring" for an opportunity to manifest themselves. The statement was also made that the cause of death was an affection of the head, and the technical term was given, "concussion of the brain." The doctor, however, with that professional perversity which will never allow a patient the right of private judgment on any question of therapeutics or pathology, boldly declared that the "diagnosis" was incorrect, the symptoms not being characteristic of the disease mentioned. Whether the patient, like some in the flesh, became irritated at a doubt thus thrown upon her diagnostic skill, may not be certain, but about this time a rattling noise was heard upon the wall, and a commotion of some kind at the same moment under the table.

"Look! look!" said the medium, pointing in the direction of a picture hanging upon the wall,

Three raps promptly responded, "Yes." "Will you write upon the slate ?"

Three raps.

The medium then took the folding-slate, such as can be found on the desks of almost every school-house in the land, cleaned it carefully inside and out with a moistened cloth, and allow ing us all to see that there could be no writing within, and moreover nothing with which writing could be made, not even the point of a pencil, he closed it, and gave it into the hands of the doctor. The doctor held one end of the closed slate, the medium the other, with a firm grip, the slate touching the edge of the table, but not lying upon it. S and the writer were interested spectators.

looked as hastily as possible, and the picture, an engraving of the "Signers of the Declaration of Independence," was viciously throwing itself backward and forward against the wall with such violence that there seemed some danger that the glass enclosed in the frame might be broken. The medium asked us if we did not see the form of a hand moving the picture, and stated that it was perfectly distinct to his own vision. After our "materializing" experience of the preceding evening, we were not inclined to charge him with a falsehood, although we did not ourselves witness this feature of the phenomenon. The medium also said that he saw a hand upon the left shoulder of S——, and asked him if he had felt a touch. S had not, but he noticed that a drawer of the table which was directly in front of him had

been driven out during the excitement, as far as was possible without coming in contact with his rather portly abdomen.

Symptoms of uneasiness now began to manifest themselves in a hat of one of the party, which was now lying upon a table in the rear of the room, and we were advised to keep a bright lookout for developments in that quarter, as we were told that such articles were sometimes transferred bodily, without visible agency, from other parts of the room to the centre-table. No such performance was witnessed by ourselves.

Different messages came, but one predominant intelligence, the alleged spirit of the doctor's patient, seemed to drive the less demonstrative or weaker ones away. The medium stated that such was often the case. It seemed that selfishness might be a characteristic of spirits as well as of mortals, and that the rules of politeness were sometimes forgotten in the struggle for precedence, in the invisible as well as the material world.

Two initial letters, "J. N.," were written by the medium at the professed dictation of a spirit. No one of the party recognized them as belonging to an acquaintance. Again they came, this time "J. V. N.," and the same a third time without recognition, although the medium stated that the spirit was desiring to communicate with some one present.

On our way home, in reviewing the events of the evening, it suddenly occurred to the doctor that the initials were those of an uncle long since deceased, with whom in life he was intimate, and at whose house he had spent many months. A peculiar form given in life by his uncle to the letter "N" he thought he recognized in the initials furnished by the medium.

to questions, and it seemed to the writer that the séance would close with nothing new added to his own personal experience of the mystery under investigation.

Those whose spirits he had invoked were not those with whom he would have sought an interview if he had felt a confidence in the genuineness and authenticity of the professed revelations. He now wrote upon a slip of paper the name of one with whom he would gladly communicate if he were certain such a communication were legitimate and possible. He folded the paper so that no one but himself could know the contents, and asked if the spirit were present. Three raps came in immediate response.

"Will the spirit please indicate its presence by three raps here?" said the medium, indicating a point on the surface of the table.

The raps came upon the precise spot indicated. "Will the spirit write upon the slate ?" Three raps.

The two smaller slates were placed side by side, to "magnetize" them, the medium said, while a circle of touching hands was made by those present. Then, in accordance with directions, the writer placed together the two slates, which were thoroughly cleansed of any suspicion of a mark. No pencil was placed between them for the convenience of any being, visible or invisible. The writer now held with a firm grasp the two slates, and became aware that writing was going on within. The sound ceased. He opened the slates, and there, in a delicate hand, he read on one these words: "We cannot communicate more to-night. Good-night all." It seemed evident that some unknown intelligence had left its imprint within the covers of the slate, but the writer could not believe that the communication came from the spirit of the person named upon the slip of paper. If so, the character of that person seemed to him to have strangely altered, and the first address after years of separation seemed lacking in the quality of affectionate remembrance which would naturally have characterized it, but on the contrary seemed to be heartless and unsatisfactory.