rather than edified me at the time. I find now, however, that
they agree very closely, with the revelations in Raymond and in other
later accounts, so that I view them with different eyes. I am aware
that all these accounts of life beyond the grave differ in detail--I
suppose any of our accounts of the present life would differ in
detail--but in the main there is a very great resemblance, which in
this instance was very far from the conception either of myself or of
either of the two ladies who made up the circle. Two communicators
sent messages, the first of whom spelt out as a name "Dorothy
Postlethwaite," a name unknown to any of us. She said she died at
Melbourne five years before, at the age of sixteen, that she was now
happy, that she had work to do, and that she had been at the same
school as one of the ladies. On my asking that lady to raise her hands
and give a succession of names, the table tilted at the correct name of
the head mistress of the school. This seemed in the nature of a test.
She went on to say that the sphere she inhabited was all round the
earth; that she knew about the planets; that Mars was inhabited by a
race more advanced than us, and that the canals were artificial; there
was no bodily pain in her sphere, but there could be mental anxiety;
they were governed; they took nourishment; she had been a Catholic and
was still a Catholic, but had not fared better than the Protestants;
there were Buddhists and Mohammedans in her sphere, but all fared
alike; she had never seen Christ and knew no more about Him than on
earth, but believed in His influence; spirits prayed and they died in
their new sphere before entering another; they had pleasures--music was
among them. It was a place of light and of laughter. She added that
they had no rich or poor, and that the general conditions were far
happier than on earth.

This lady bade us good-night, and immediately the table was seized by a
much more robust influence, which dashed it about very violently. In
answer to my questions it claimed to be the spirit of one whom I will
call Dodd, who was a famous cricketer, and with whom I had some serious
conversation in Cairo before he went up the Nile, where he met his
death in the Dongolese Expedition. We have now, I may remark, come to
the year 1896 in my experiences. Dodd was not known to either lady. I
began to ask him questions exactly as if he were seated before me, and
he sent his answers back wi