Medium, who added some examples of the care
taken of herself by the spirits, and of a
communication of importance made to her that
morning by a deceased child; a story told to
us already in the next room by Mr. Stone,
whose version had, however, in one point,
differed materially from the Medium's.

A large card lay before us on the table,
upon which were printed in capitals, row after
row, the letters of the alphabet, and in a last
row the numerals 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0.
There were also pencils with which we might
point, and there was paper upon which we
might write down the letters as the spirits
indicated them, and spell out the messages
delivered from the other world.

We were quite still. Brown was solemn;
Thompson looked into vacancy; the Medium
looked down into the table: we were waiting
for a communication from any kind ghost
who would
"Be as a presence or a motion—one
Among the many there."—(Rap-tap.)

"There is a rapping!" said Mrs. Hayden with
an indistinct certainty about the expression of
her voice, as though she really fancied that
she heard a rapping, but might be in error.
"Who knocks ?" we desired to know.
"The spirit" said Mrs. Hayden, "desires to
communicate with one of us." Then, talking
with her mouth near to the table, as
though she were about to sip knowledge from
spirits in the wood, she asked "Who do you
speak to ? Is it to me?" (No rapping.) "Is it
to this gentleman?" (No rapping.) "Is it to
that gentleman." (Rap-tap.) That gentleman
was Mr. Thompson, who was requested to
converse with the spirit: it was probably
that of a near relative.

Says Thompson, "Are you related to me?"

Rap-tap.

"What is the relationship between us ?"

Thompson is directed to take up the alphabet,
begin at A, and point to all the letters in
succession. When Thompson points at M there
is a rap-tap. M is put down by his friend
Brown upon a piece of paper as the first letter
of the word, and Thompson travels through the
alphabet again till he is stopped at O, which
Brown puts down, while Thompson begins
again and gets to T, where, being stopped, to
save trouble, he says, "Is it Mother ?" Rap-
tap. Mother; very good.

But Thompson does not laugh, for very
dear to his heart is the thought of a mother
who has been known to him from early
childhood only as an angel. Surely she
would speak to her son, if she had power,
though she has been parted from him for so
many years. What starlight musings of the
boy who thought that guardian angels lived
in stars, and looked up at the sky for hours,
to dream which was the bright particular
star in which his angel dwelt; what yearnings
of the youth for a mother's sympathy and
guidance when all passions and affections
were astir; what sacred mysteries belonging
to the inmost thoughts of a whole life, so far
as it has gone, were touched by the assertions
that the spirit of the lost mother was first to
speak. Truly then, if there were truth in
Rapping, and if that spirit had addressed her
son, she would have spoken not in vain.

"Have you anything to say to me ?" asked
Thompson. Rap-tap. "Will you say it?"
Then, by the most tedious process of getting
each letter in succession knocked out of the
card, and with a few mistakes in spelling,
which were corrected as they were made,
but which consumed time, the spirit rapped
out this sentence: "Dear son, I am well
pleased to see you. I watch over you and God
blesses you." Satisfactory, no doubt. A kind
of sentence that might be regarded by any
reasonable person as a sure proof of the
ghost's authenticity. But would she in the next
place authenticate her claim to be the mother
of Thompson ? Would she convince her son
by telling him her Christian name? Thompson
began the alphabet with an inscrutable face:
but the light from the fire and window,
although good enough for a ghost, or for a
common purpose, was not good for a Medium.
The spirit rapped at T (wrong), at I (wrong),
at M (wrong); finally made out Timok—truly
an odd Christian name for an English lady;
and having, in this instance, the curious
peculiarity that it did not contain a single
letter of the name that should have been
communicated. But Timok might be
something mystic. The Medium said it was not
mystic but mistake, and complained of the
bad light. Spirits, perhaps, are forbidden
spectacles. No more must be done until a
lamp was lighted.

Then it was again distinctly intimated to
the professed spirit of Thompson's mother,
who had sought this conversation, that
nothing mystical was wanted, only the Christian
name she had before she died—"Went
into the spirit world," said the Medium,
"the spirits never talk of death."—"Before
you went into the spirit world. Do you
remember what that name was ?" Rap-tap.
"Will you tell it me ?" Rap-tap. "Do so
then, now, if you please." So again came the
answer knocked up from the alphabet, this
time, E-U-N-I-C-E—of course, ridiculously
wrong—but, as Eunice means "a happy
victory," and it might be again said that the
spirit was mystical, Thompson said, "We
will presume that there may be some hidden
meaning." "Hidden meaning, you think ?"
said Mrs. Hayden, listlessly, as though the
spirits and their sayings were rather affairs
of ours than of hers. "Shall we try again for
the real name?" "No," said Thompson, "it
is not worth while; I will be satisfied with
the first letter of it." It was then most
elaborately defined to the ghost, with almost
legal periphrasis, what was required, and the
ghost by rap-taps declared itself perfectly
clear in its mind, and ready to oblige. "So