ing to justify such a consensus. When, moreover, the
object of such gush is a young lady claiming to be a spirit-medium, the
unanimity is so unusual as certainly to make the matter worth the most
careful inquiry, for hitherto the London Press has either denounced
spiritualism altogether, or gushed singly over individual mediums,
presumably according to the several proclivities of the correspondents.
Of Miss Annie Eva Fay, however--is not the very name fairy-like and
fascinating?--I read in one usually sober-minded journal that "there is
something not of this earth about the young lady's powers." Another
averred that she was "a spirit medium of remarkable and extraordinary
power." Others, more cautious, described the "mystery" as "bewildering,"
the "entertainment" as "extraordinary and incomprehensible," while yet
another seemed to me to afford an index to the cause of this gush by
saying that "Miss Fay is a pretty young lady of about twenty, with a
delicate spirituelle face, and a profusion of light hair, frizzled on
the forehead."

I made a point of attending Miss Annie Eva Fay's opening performance at
the Hanover Square Rooms, and found all true enough as to the pretty
face and the frizzled hair. Of the "indescribable" nature of the
"phenomenon" (for by that title is Miss Fay announced, a la Vincent
Crummles) there may be two opinions, according as we regard the young
lady as a kind of Delphic Priestess and Cumaean Sibyl rolled into one, or
simply a clever conjuror--conjuress, if there be such a word.

Let me, then, with that delightful inconsistency so often brought to
bear on the so-called or self-styled "supernatural," first describe the
"indescribable," and then, in the language of the unspiritual Dr. Lynn,
tell how it is all done; for, of course, I found it all out, like a
great many others of the enlightened and select audience which gathered
at Miss Annie Eva Fay's first drawing-room reception in the Queen's
Concert Rooms.

Arriving at the door half an hour too early, as I had misread the time
of commencement, I found at the portal Mr. Burns, of the Progressive
Library, and a gentleman with a diamond brooch in his shirt-front, whom
I guessed at once, from that adornment, to be the proprietor of the
indescribable phenomenon, and I was, in fact, immediately introduced to
him as Colonel Fay.

Passing in due course within the cavernous room which might have suited
well a Cumaean Sibyl on a small scale, I found