ssatisfied with myself to find how much I have left unsaid. It is so
difficult to put these things on paper, or in any way to convey them to
another;--most difficult of all for one unblessed with leisure, and
combining in his single self the pursuits of some three laborious
callings.

Last year, whilst sitting at Mrs. B----'s, I was touched by a hand which
seemed to me that of a small girl, and which attracted my attention by
the way it lingered in mine--this would amuse Professor Pepper--and the
pertinacity with which it took off my ring. However, I never took any
steps to identify the owner of the hand.

Some few months ago, my wife and I were sitting, and a communication
came ostensibly from our child. It was quite unexpected; and I said, "I
thought you could not communicate." "I could not before," was the reply.
"But you have not tried me for two years." This we found was true; but
we actually had to look into dates to ascertain it. He added, that he
always was present at seances where I went, and especially at Mrs.
B----'s. It will, I daresay, sound strange to non-spiritualists, but the
initiated can understand the conversational tone we adopt. I said, "But,
Johnny, that was not your hand that touched me at Mrs. B----'s. It was
too large." The answer was, "No! it was Charlie's turn." I said, "What
_do_ you mean by Charlie's turn?" The word was rewritten with almost
petulant haste and remarkable plainness, "Charlie's _twin_." Charlie is
my eldest boy, and his twin-brother was still-born. He would be between
thirteen and fourteen years of age, and that was precisely the sized
hand I felt. This was curious; as the event had occurred a year before,
and such an explanation had never even crossed my mind. I was promised
that, if I would go to Mrs. B----'s again, each of the children would
come and place a hand in mine. I went to the ordinary seance some time
before Christmas, and was then told that the test I wished--which I had
not then specified--should be given to me at a private seance. We had
the private seance, but nothing occurred.

Such is my case. To one section of my readers I shall appear credulous,
to another hard of belief. I believe that I represent the candid
inquirer. As for being scared off from the inquiry by those who call it
unorthodox, or cry out "fire and brimstone," I should as little think of
heeding them as the omniscient apothecaries who smile at my believing in
mesmerism. If a man's opinions