t the weather, the time, or small items of news. Only
when it was in real working order was a President's Message, a Queen's
Speech, sent through it.

Automatic writing and trance speaking never yet convinced anybody. They
are only useful for those who are already convinced. But you _would_
begin this way. You would not go to mediums and seances and see what you
could get that way. So now you must persevere; but do not give up your
own judgment in anything. Insist upon having things explained to you, or
say you won't go on. You will then find they will be explained, only it
may take a little more time.... --Yours very faithfully,

ALFRED R. WALLACE.

* * * * *

TO MISS BUCKLEY

_The Dell, Grays, Essex. April 24, 1874._

Dear Miss Buckley,-- ... On coming home this evening I received the news
of poor little Bertie's death--this morning at eight o'clock. I left him
only yesterday forenoon, and had then considerable hopes, for we had
just commenced a new treatment which a fortnight earlier I am pretty
sure might have saved him. The thought suddenly struck me to go to Dr.
Williams, of Hayward's Heath ... but it was too late. As he had been in
this same state of exhaustion for nearly a month, it is evident that
very slight influences might have been injurious or beneficial. Our
orthodox medical men are profoundly ignorant of the subtle influences of
the human body in health and disease, and can thus do nothing in many
cases which Nature would cure if assisted by proper conditions. We who
know what strange and subtle influences are around us can believe
this....--Yours very truly,

ALFRED R. WALLACE.

* * * * *

Mr. Wallace felt the death of this child so deeply that during the
remainder of his life he never mentioned him except when obliged, and
then with tears in his eyes.--A.B. FISHER.

* * * * *

TO MISS BUCKLEY

_The Dell, Grays, Essex. Thursday evening, [? December, 1875]._

Dear Miss Buckley,--Our stance came off last evening, and was a
tolerable success. The medium is a very pretty little lively girl, the
place where she sits a bare empty cupboard formed by a frame and doors
to close up a recess by the side of a fireplace in a small basement
breakfast-room. We examined it, and it is absolutely impossible to
conceal a scrap of paper in it. Miss Cooke is locked in this cupboard,
above the door of which is