t
hand, which was touching mine. This convulsive movement spread to her
shoulder, until her whole arm began to thresh about like a flail in a
most alarming way. The action became so violent at last that she called
upon me for aid. I found it exceedingly difficult to subdue her
agitation and silence her rebellious limb, but I did finally succeed.
Nor was this all. A few moments later, while helping us in the singing,
my friend suddenly stopped singing and began to laugh in a deep,
guttural fashion, and presently a voice--the voice of a man,
apparently--came from her throat: '_Haw! haw! I've got ye now! I've got
ye now!_' It sounded like 'Wilbur.'"

This seemed to amuse Mrs. Smiley. "It was 'Wilbur,'" she said. "He loves
to jump in and seize upon some one's vocal chords that way. It's a
favorite joke with him."

"What horrible taste!" Mrs. Fowler shudderingly exclaimed.

"Oh, I don't know," remarked Brierly. "It is actually no worse than
having your hand controlled."

"To have a spirit inside of one's throat is a little startling, even to
me," I admitted, sympathetically. "But there was more of this business.
Another member of the circle--a young man--became entranced, and
proceeded to impersonate lost souls, 'earth-bound spirits,' in the
manner of our friend Mrs. Harris, and wailed and wept and moaned in most
grewsome fashion. However, I think Miller considered both of these
performances merely cases of hysteria, induced by the darkness and the
constraint of sitting about the table. And perhaps he was correct."

"Anything a doctor doesn't understand he calls hysteria," put in
Brierly. "I consider these specialists nuisances."

"Well, anyhow, our 'Amateur Spook-spotter Association' seems to have
come to an untimely end," said I, regretfully. "Of the original number,
only Brierly remains. Wouldn't our deserters be chagrined if we should
now proceed to enjoy a really startling session?"

"We will," Mrs. Smiley responded. "I feel the power all about me."

"Good!" cried Fowler. "That is the way you should feel. If you are at
ease, the spirits will do the rest."

"Sit back and rest," I said. "We have plenty of time. You've been too
anxious. Don't worry."

In the mean while, between the sitting at Miller's house and this
present one, I had been reading much on the subject of the trance and of
"the externalization of the fluidic double," of which the Continental
philosophers have much to say. If not convinced, I was