II. _Mrs. Eva Hatch._
I was so disappointed at being hurried off to Boston before I had seen
any more of the New York media, that I took the earliest opportunity of
attending a _seance_ there. A few words I had heard dropped about Eva
Hatch made me resolve to visit her first. She was one of the Shaker
sect, and I heard her spoken of as a remarkably pure and honest woman,
and most reliable medium. Her first appearance quite gave me that
impression. She had a fair, placid countenance, full of sweetness and
serenity, and a plump matronly figure. I went incognita, as I had done
to Mrs. Williams, and mingled unnoticed with the crowd. Mrs. Hatch's
cabinet was quite different from Mrs. Williams'. It was built of planks
like a little cottage, and the roof was pierced with numerous round
holes for ventilation, like a pepper-box. There was a door in the
centre, with a window on either side, all three of which were shaded by
dark curtains. The windows, I was told, were for the accommodation of
those spirits who had not the power to materialize more than a face, or
head and bust. Mrs. Hatch's conductor was a woman, who sat near the
cabinet, as in the other case.
Mrs. Eva Hatch had not entered the cabinet five minutes before she came
out again, under trance, with a very old lady with silver hair clinging
to her arm, and walked round the circle. As they did so, the old lady
extended her withered hand, and blessed the sitters. She came quite
close to each one and was distinctly visible to all. I was told that
this was the spirit of Mrs. Hatch's mother, and that it was her regular
custom to come first and give her blessing to the _seance_. I had never
seen the spirit of an aged person before, and it was a beautiful sight.
She was the sweetest old lady too, very small and fragile looking, and
half reclining on her daughter's bosom, but smiling serenely upon every
one there. When they had made the tour of the room, Mrs. Hatch
re-entered the cabinet, and did not leave it again until the sitting was
concluded.
There were a great many sitters present, most of whom were old patrons
of Mrs. Hatch, and so, naturally, their friends came for them first. It
is surprising though, when once familiarized with materialization, how
little one grows to care to see the spirits who come for one's next door
neighbor. They are like a lot of prisoners let out, one by one, to see
their friends and relations. The few moments they have to spare are
entirely devoted to home matters of no possible interest to the
bystander. The first wonder and possible shock at seeing the supposed
dead return in their old likeness to greet those they left on earth
over, one listens with languid indifference, and perhaps a little
impatience for one's own turn to come, to the whispered utterances of
strangers. Mrs. Hatch's "cabinet spirits" or "controls," however, were
very interesting. One, who called herself the "Spirit of Prayer," came
and knelt down in the middle of the circle, and prayed with us. She had
asked for the gas to be extinguished first, and as she prayed she became
illuminated with flashes of light, in the shape of stars and crosses,
until she was visible from head to foot, and we could see her features
and dress as if she had been surrounded by electricity.
Two more cabinet spirits were a negro and negress, who appeared
together, chanting some of their native hymns and melodies. When I saw
these apparitions, I thought to myself: "Here is a good opportunity to
discover trickery, if trickery there is." The pair were undoubtedly of
the negro race. There was no mistaking their thick lips and noses and
yellow-white eyes, nor their polished brown skins, which no charcoal can
properly imitate. They were negroes without doubt; but how about the
negro bouquet? Everyone who has mixed with colored people in the East or
the West knows what that is, though it is very difficult to describe,
being something like warm rancid oil mingled with the fumes of charcoal,
with a little worse thrown in. "Now," I thought, "if these forms are
human, there will be some odor attached to them, and that I am
determined to find out." I caught, therefore, at the dress of the young
woman as she passed, and asked her if she would kiss me. She left her
companion directly, and put her arms (which were bare) round my neck,
and embraced me several times; and I can declare, on my oath, that she
was as completely free from anything like the smell of a colored woman
as it was possible for her to be. She felt as fresh and sweet and pure
as a little child.
Many other forms appeared and were recognized by the circle, notably a
very handsome one who called herself the Empress Josephine; but as they
could not add a grain's weight to my testimony I pass them over. I had
begun to think that "Florence" was not going to visit me that evening,
when the conductor of the _seance_ asked if there was anybody in the
room who answered to the name of "Bluebell." I must indulge in a little
retrospect here, and tell my readers that ten years previous to the time
I am writing of, I had lost my brother-in-law, Edward Church, under very
painful circumstances. He had been left an orphan and in control of his
fortune at a very early age, and had lived with my husband, Colonel
Ross-Church, and myself. But poor "Ted" had been his own worst enemy. He
had possessed a most generous heart and affectionate disposition, but
these had led him into extravagances that swallowed up his fortune, and
then he had taken to drinking and killed himself by it. I and my
children had loved him dearly, but all our prayers and entreaties had
had no avail, and in the end he had become so bad that the doctors had
insisted upon our separation. Poor "Ted" had consequently died in exile,
and this had been a further aggravation of our grief. For ten years I
had been trying to procure communication with him in vain, and I had
quite given up expecting to see him again. Only once had I heard
"Bluebell" (his pet name for me) gasped out by an entranced clairvoyant,
but nothing further had come of it. Now, as I heard it for the second
time, from a stranger's lips in a foreign country, it naturally roused
my expectations, but I thought it might be only a message for me from
"Ted."
"Is there anyone here who recognizes the name of 'Bluebell'?" repeated
the conductor. "I was once called so by a friend," I said. "Someone is
asking for that name. You had better come up to the cabinet," she
replied. I rose at once and did as she told me, but when I reached the
curtain I encountered "Florence." "My darling child," I said, as I
embraced her, "why did you ask for 'Bluebell'?" She did not answer me,
except by shaking her head, placing her finger on her lips, and
pointing downwards to the carpet. I did not know what to make of it. I
had never known her unable to articulate before. "What is the matter,
dear?" I said; "can't you speak to me to-night?" Still she shook her
head, and tapped my arm with her hand, to attract my attention to the
fact that she was pointing vigorously downwards. I looked down, too,
when, to my astonishment, I saw rise through the carpet what looked to
me like the bald head of a baby or an old man, and a little figure, _not
more than three feet in height_, with Edward Church's features, but no
hair on its head, came gradually into view, and looked up in my face
with a pitiful, deprecating expression, as if he were afraid I should
strike him. The face, however, was so unmistakably Ted's, though the
figure was so ludicrously insignificant, that I could not fail to
recognize him. "Why, Ted!" I exclaimed, "have you come back to see me at
last?" and held out my hand. The little figure seized it, tried to
convey it to his lips, burst into tears, and sank down through the
carpet much more rapidly than he had come up.
I began to cry too. It was so pitiful. With her uncle's disappearance
"Florence" found her tongue. "Don't cry, mother," she said; "poor Uncle
Ted is overcome at seeing you. That's why he couldn't materialize
better. He was in such a terrible hurry. He'll look more like himself
next time. I was trying so hard to help him, I didn't dare to use up any
of the power by speaking. He'll be so much better, now he's seen you.
You'll come here again, won't you?" I told her I certainly would, if I
could; and, indeed, I was all anxiety to see my poor brother-in-law
again. To prove how difficult it would have been to deceive me on this
subject, I should like to say a little about Edward Church's personal
appearance. He was a very remarkable looking man--indeed, I have never
seen anyone a bit like him before or after. He was very small; not short
only, but small altogether, with tiny hands and feet, and a little head.
His hair and eyes were of the deepest black--the former parted in the
middle, with a curl on either side, and was naturally waved. His
complexion was very dark, his features delicate, and he wore a small
pointed moustache. As a child he had suffered from an attack of
confluent small-pox, which had deeply pitted his face, and almost eaten
away the tip of his nose. Such a man was not to be easily imitated, even
if anyone in Boston had ever heard of his inconsequential existence. To
me, though, he had been a dear friend and brother, before the curse of
Drink had seemed to change his nature, and I had always been anxious to
hear how he fared in that strange country whither he had been forced to
journey, like all of us, _alone_. I was very pleased then to find that
business would not interfere with my second visit to Mrs. Eva Hatch,
which took place two nights afterward. On this occasion "Florence" was
one of the first to appear, and "Ted" came with her, rather weak and
trembling on his second introduction to this mundane sphere, but no
longer bald-headed nor under-sized. He was his full height now, about
five feet seven; his head was covered with his black crisp hair, parted
just as he used to wear it while on earth; in every particular he
resembled what he used to be, even down to his clothes. I could have
sworn I had seen that very suit of clothes; the little cut-away coat he
always wore, with the natty tie and collar, and a dark blue velvet
smoking cap upon his head, exactly like one I remembered being in his
possession. "Florence" still seemed to be acting as his interpreter and
guide. When I said to him, "Why! Ted, you look quite like your old self
to-day," she answered, "He can't talk to you, mamma, he is weak still,
and he is so thankful to meet you again. He wants me to tell you that he
has been trying to communicate with you often, but he never could manage
it in England. He will be so glad when he can talk freely to you."
Whilst she was speaking, "Ted" kept on looking from her to me like a
deaf and dumb animal trying to understand what was going on in a manner
that was truly pitiful. I stooped down and kissed his forehead. The
touch seemed to break the spell that hung over him. "_Forgive_," he
uttered in a choked voice. "There is nothing to forgive, dear," I
replied, "except as we all have need to forgive each other. You know how
we all loved you, Ted, and we loved you to the last and grieved for you
deeply. You remember the children, and how fond you were of them and
they of you. They often speak to this day of their poor Uncle Ted."
"Eva--Ethel," he gasped out, naming my two elder children. At this
juncture he seemed suddenly to fail, and became so weak that "Florence"
took him back into the cabinet again. No more spirits came for me that
evening, but towards the close of the _seance_ "Florence" and "Ted"
appeared again together and embraced me fondly. "Florence" said, "He's
so happy now, mother; he says he shall rest in peace now that he knows
that you have forgiven him. And he won't come without his hair again,"
she added, laughing. "I hope he won't," I answered, "for he frightened
me." And then they both kissed me "good-night," and retreated to the
cabinet, and I looked after them longingly and wished I could go there
too.