Tracks of a Rolling Stone
上QQ阅读APP看本书,新人免费读10天
设备和账号都新为新人

第46章 CHAPTER XIX(2)

The other story: A few years after my return to England, a great friend called upon me, and, in an excited state, described a SEANCE he had had with a woman who possessed the power of 'invoking' spirits. These spirits had correctly replied to questions, the answers to which were only known to himself. The woman was an American. I am sorry to say I have forgotten her name, but I think she was the first of her tribe to visit this country. As in the case spoken of, my friend was much affected by the results of the SEANCE. He was a well-educated and intelligent man. Born to wealth, he had led a somewhat wildish life in his youth. Henceforth he became more serious, and eventually turned Roman Catholic.

He entreated me to see the woman, which I did.

I wrote to ask for an appointment. She lived in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square; but on the day after the morrow she was to change her lodgings to Queen Anne Street, where she would receive me at 11 A.M. I was punctual to a minute, and was shown into an ordinary furnished room. The maid informed me that Mrs. - had not yet arrived from Charlotte Street, but she was sure to come before long, as she had an engagement (so she said) with a gentleman.

Nothing could have suited me better. I immediately set to work to examine the room and the furniture with the greatest care. I looked under and moved the sofa, tables, and armchairs. I looked behind the curtains, under the rug, and up the chimney. I could discover nothing. There was not the vestige of a spirit anywhere. At last the medium entered - a plain, middle-aged matron with nothing the least spiritual about her. She seated herself opposite to me at the round table in the centre of the room, and demurely asked what I wanted. 'To communicate with the spirits,' I replied. She did not know whether that was possible. It depended upon the person who sought them. She would ask the spirits whether they would confer with me. Whereupon she put the question:

'Will the spirits converse with this gentleman?' At all events, thought I, the term 'gentleman' applies to the next world, which is a comfort. She listened for the answer.

Presently three distinct raps on the table signified assent.

She then took from her reticule a card whereon were printed the alphabet, and numerals up to 10. The letters were separated by transverse lines. She gave me a pencil with these instructions: I was to think, not utter, my question, and then put the pencil on each of the letters in succession.

When the letters were touched which spelt the answer, the spirits would rap, and the words could be written down.

My friend had told me this much, so I came prepared. I began by politely begging the lady to move away from the table at which we were seated, and take a chair in the furthest corner of the room. She indignantly complied, asking if I suspected her. I replied that 'all ladies were dangerous, when they were charming,' which put us on the best of terms. I placed my hat so as to intercept her view of my operations, and thus pursued them.

Thinking the matter over beforehand, I concluded that when the questioner, of either sex, was young, love would very probably be the topic; the flesh, not the spirit, would be the predominant interest. Being an ingenuous young man of the average sort, and desperately in love with Susan, let us say, I should naturally assist the supernatural being, if at a loss, to understand that the one thing wanted was information about Susan. I therefore mentally asked the question: 'Who is the most lovely angel without wings, and with the means of sitting down?' and proceeded to pass the pencil over the letters, pausing nowhere. I now and then got a doubtful rap on or under the table, - how delivered I know not - but signifying nothing. It was clear the spirits needed a cue. I put the pencil on the letter S, and kept it there. I got a tentative rap. I passed at once to U. I got a more confident rap. Then to S. Rap, rap, without hesitation. A and N were assented to almost before I touched them. Susan was an angel - the angel. What more logical proof could I have of the immortality of the soul?

Mrs. - asked me whether I was satisfied. I said it was miraculous; so much so indeed, that I could hardly believe the miracle, until corroborated by another. Would the spirits be kind enough to suspend this pencil in the air?