on the nose, eyelid, or ear, softly, without jar or jolt. It came to me
just now like a sentient thing--like something human. Such unerring
flight is uncanny. Could any trickster perform in the dark with such
precision and gentleness? Of course this is not conclusive as argument,
but at the same time it has weight. Whose is the eye that directs this
instrument? Can you tell us, 'Wilbur'?"

A chuckle came through the cone. "_I'm doing it._"

"How can you see?"

"_Day and night are all the same to me._"

Miller held up his right hand. "Prove it; touch my knuckles!" he
commanded.

After a moment's silent soaring the cone struck his left hand, which was
farthest from the psychic, and a voice followed it with laughter,
asking: "_What made you jump?_"

Before Miller had recovered from the surprise of this, the table seemed
to be grasped and shaken as if by a man of giant strength--and yet the
cone and the books did not shift position. Hands patted the pillows on a
sofa at Miller's right, and one of these cushions was flung against his
chair. The room seemed to swarm with tricksy Pucks. At last the cone
took flight again, and moved about freely among the heap of books and
over Miller's head, while a variety of voices came successively from it,
some of them speaking to Mrs. Miller and some to me. Several of the
names given were known to Mrs. Miller, and a few were recognizable by
me. They all claimed to be spirits of the dead with messages of good
cheer for friends on "the earth-plane," but they were all rather vague
and stereotyped. Once I thought I could see the cone passing between me
and the window, high above the table. It seemed to float horizontally as
if in water. Some of the spirits were too weak to raise the cone--so
"Wilbur" said; too weak, even, to whisper.

During all this time the psychic remained in trance--deathly still; but
"between the acts" her troubled breathing and low moans could be heard.
So far as hearing could define, she was still at the end of the table,
where she had been placed at the beginning of the sitting. None of
these movements occasioned the slightest rustling of the newspaper.
When the cone was moving no sound was heard. The floor was of hard-wood,
and, as one's hearing becomes very acute in the darkness, I am certain
the psychic did not rise from her chair. She was, for the most part,
silent as a dead woman.

The force expended on the table was very great, almost furious, and eve