y that name, and every
one said no. Gibbes was decidedly more interested than I. That odd "Has
not seen him yet," expressing so exactly the fact that I pride myself
upon, carried conviction in the truth of Spirits, _almost_. "Who will
she marry?" asked Gibbes. (He has a pet belief, in which I encourage
him, that I will never marry.) Again came the name as distinctly as
before, of Captain Charles Lewis. "When will she marry him?" "In June,
1864," was the answer. I was to meet him in New Orleans. November
followed, after a period.

[16] Note by Mrs. Dawson in 1896: wrong--she married Lieutenant
Dupre.

[17] Note by Mrs. Dawson: he was transferred in his coffin.

[18] Captain F. W. Dawson, whom Sarah Morgan eventually married,
was at that time a captain in Virginia, and she had not yet seen
him.

Of course, the Spirits produced some slight commotion which made the
time pass pleasantly until Miriam began to waltz with her Monsieur Deux
Temps. Then Captain C---- told me why he had been unwilling to try it;
of how his father believed so strongly in it that he had very nearly
been made crazy by it, and how he had sworn to abandon the practice of
consulting them, seeing the effect produced. He did not believe in
Spirits himself; but could not account for the influence he was under,
when he saw his hand involuntarily write things he was totally
unconscious of, himself. However, he proposed that we two should have a
private consultation with them, which I opened by asking when I should
again see my home. I know he did not know anything about it; but on the
paper appeared--"Five months have gone--five months more." It is _just_
five months since I did see home. I think it was the 26th of August
that Charlie took me there. He asked if he should ever marry. "Never.
You will be jilted by the lady you love in Missouri, Miss Christina
P----." I pointed it out to him, as he happened to be looking at me
when it was written. It surprised him into saying, "Why, I'm engaged to
her!" I asked whose spirit was communicating with us. He was watching
the dance when his hand wrote, "John C----." I laughed and asked if
there was such a person, pointing to the name. He looked actually sick
as he said, "Yes, my brother; he is dead." I had not the heart to talk
of Spirits again; so we took to writing poetry together, every
alternate line falling to my lot. It made an odd jingle, the
sentimental first line bein