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At the following séances I received slate writings repeatedly. Sometimes
the slate would scarcely be in the Medium's hands before a message
appeared, each time with the little pencil on top. I was told that I was
an excellent Medium, that, if I cultivated the faculty, would soon
myself be able to obtain these slate writings. I was also asked to
prepare a slate secured in any way I wished, and had the promise that a
message would be written within it. I acceded to the request and took a
slate of my own, tied it up in every direction with twine, and put my
private seal upon it in several places where I had knotted the string.
This slate the Spirits could not overcome. I never received the promised
message. I never even had the slate returned to me. After remaining in
the Medium's possession for several months, she having changed her
residence in the meantime, she told me the slate had disappeared and
somehow must have gotten lost in moving. At any rate the slate had been
spirited away somehow. I will here mention that at about the third or
fourth sitting I asked permission to watch the slate while it was under
the table, which was freely granted, but on this occasion, and whenever
I did so, there were no results.
On one occasion we took the trouble to bring Mrs. Patterson to a room in
the house of our departed friend. She was here among a small circle of
intimate friends and members of the family, some inclined to belief and
others skeptics. She failed utterly to obtain as much as even a scratch
inside of the slates, although communications on paper came thick and
fast. I may mention that on this occasion several persons sat with the
slate continually in full view.
I had almost decided to drop Mrs. Patterson and her slate writing,
although reluctant to do so, because I had no certain and positive
evidence of fraud with which to confront my friend, who was getting
impatient at my slowness in accepting all I had seen, when I resolved to
push my investigations to a point of certainty, one way or another, and
hit upon the little scheme of going prepared, at my next visit to Mrs.
Patterson, with a mirror in my pocket which I could hold under the table
at an angle that would reflect whatever occurred on the other side of
the table, in the Medium's lap, the accustomed position of the
mysterious slate. The sitting was held in broad daylight, and the table
was so placed that the Medium was seated with her back to a window,
affording sufficient light for the experiment. I purposely avoided
removing my overcoat on this day, because I wished to hide my movements
as much as possible, and sat down at my side of the table with
considerable misgiving as to the result of taking liberties with the
Spirits. The Medium this time had on her table a new slate, a larger
one, one which she said had belonged to the celebrated Slade who had
himself received messages on it. She said her old slate was broken,
which was probably true; when I had last seen it it was in a battered
condition. She asked if it would make any difference to me if she used
the new slate. The only apparent difference between the slates was that
this one was larger and did not close with a screw, therefore, thought
I, more easily manipulated; consequently I did not withhold my consent.
I wrote upon a slip of paper my question, "Will Dr. H. advise me what
to do for Juliet (an old colored patient)?" I folded over the slip of
paper five times, put it in the slate with a small stub of pencil, and
down the slates went into the lap of the Medium where I could see them,
lying plainly reflected in my little mirror which I had slipped out of
my pocket and laid across my knees at the proper angle of reflection.
Mrs. Patterson first wrote a letter-sheet full of alleged Spirit
communications, and handed them to me across the table for perusal. I
took the sheet with one hand and while ostensibly scanning the written
page, with the other hand I carefully adjusted my little mirror, on
which my downcast and watchful eyes were fixed, when lo! in the mirror
_I beheld a hand_, closely resembling that of the Medium, _stealthily
insert its fingers between the leaves of the slate, take out the little
slip, unfold and again fold it, grasp the little pencil_, which had
rolled to the front while the slate was tilted that way, _and with rapid
but noiseless motion_ (had there been the least noise from the pencil,
it would have been drowned by the fit of coughing, which, at that
instant, seized the Medium) _write across the slate from left to right,
a few lines; then the leaves of the slate were closed, the little pencil
laid on the top_, and, over all, two hands were folded as if in
benediction. The woman opposite me, to whom the hands belonged (unless
they were Spirit hands) sat with uplifted eyes, a calm expression of
innocence upon her face. After holding the slates so for a moment or
two, and after calling to the Spirit friends "to come and _please_ write
in the slate," she produced them, saying, "It has come!"
Of course, I did all I could to master my indignation, which, at that
moment, was extreme, and quietly opening the slates, I read the message
pretending to have come from high authority, "The channels are
obstructed, give Arsenic, Bryonia and Pulsatilla in succeeding doses, an
hour apart!" The last words were somewhat illegible, and Mrs. Patterson
suggested another trial; she thought the Spirits would write it plainer.
Again the slates went down; _again I saw the hand at work as before_.
This second time the hurriedly written message was not much plainer than
the first. Mrs. Patterson, who was better versed in deciphering Spirit
dispatches than I, offered to read it for me, but remembering that "all
good things are three," I requested a third trial. After this last
experiment, in which again, _for the third time, in my little mirror, I
saw the stealthy fingers write on the slate_, I told the Medium I was
satisfied, smothered my indignant anger, and left the house as quickly
as I could. For the larger part of a year I had investigated in good
faith this department of Spiritualism, which, in this Medium's case, had
turned out a downright fraud.
Not long after my last interview with Mrs. Patterson it was my good
fortune to meet with an _unprofessional_ Medium, a young gentleman of
reputed honor and veracity, to whom I was introduced by a friend who had
known him from childhood, and vouched for his honesty. This young man's
Mediumistic abilities had begun to develop with the planchette, and had
reached the stage in which a drum and sundry musical instruments were
played behind a curtain where he sat entranced, with his hands tightly
bound together by a handkerchief or cord. These séances were continued
with regularity on certain nights in the week, and were confined
strictly to the family circle and to a few privileged friends. There
was, therefore, no temptation to deceive for gain. I came into the
circle as an observer, not as believer, but was impressed by the
phenomena witnessed at the first séance in which the Medium was under
Indian control. There were strange sounds, guttural tones and whoops
which really might have emanated from a wild son of the forest. A drum,
an accordion, a zither, a mouth-organ were all played upon. The
drumsticks kept time to music, rapped on the wall, appeared above the
edge of the curtain several times, brightly illuminated, as if dipped in
electric light or some phosphorescent substance. As I have said, I was
impressed, and might have ended in complete conversion, by
manifestations from so trustworthy a source, and vouched for in such
perfect sincerity, had it not, in an unlucky moment, occurred to me to
apply a little harmless test.
The test consisted simply in putting a dab of printer's ink on one of
the drumsticks at the very last moment before the séance began. The
result could not prove physically injurious to the Medium, who had
challenged investigation, nor to any one in the circle. The result was
startling. Being accorded the privilege of tying the Medium's hands, I
proceeded to do so with a stout cord, using a certain knot which I
believe has never been known to slip or come undone. This accomplished,
and while some one else fastened the Medium securely to his chair, with
his back to the instruments on the table, the ink, concealed in a
pocket-handkerchief, was applied. In this position we left the Medium,
the lights were lowered and the music began. Soon were heard the deep
breathings preceding the trance, then the 'Indian' began to manifest, at
first somewhat sullenly, as if not pleased with the conditions, some of
the instruments sounded, and at last the drumsticks began their tattoo.
At the close of the séance, when the curtains were drawn and the lights
turned up, the Medium was found in his chair with his hands still tied,
but great was the astonishment of everyone present at the marvelous
condition of the Medium's hands. How in the world printer's ink could
have gotten smeared over them while under control of 'Deerfoot, the
Indian,' no one, not even the Medium, could fathom.
I believe there is an explanation for these or similar phenomena, but I
must leave it to the ingenious and adroit expounders of Spiritualist
philosophy.