eristic of
himself?" A small piece of slate pencil chipped from an ordinary pencil,
perhaps an eighth of an inch long, was placed within the slates,
together with the written question. The slates were then tightly screwed
together at the open end, by myself, with the blade of an old knife
which was at hand to serve the purpose of a screwdriver. It was then
placed by the Medium in her lap, under the table, one hand, the left,
resting upon the slate, the other hand remaining on top of the table,
writing, with a lead pencil, messages in different handwritings, on
paper.

These messages came in characters bold as John Hancock's, and in
chirography as small and neat as the writing of Charlotte Bronte, whose
manuscript the compositor is said to have deciphered with the aid of a
magnifying glass; and between these extremes were a dozen or more styles
as varied and marked as one could wish. The purport of these messages,
which were written rather quickly, and without perceptible thought or
hesitation, changing from one handwriting to another without the least
apparent difficulty, was in some instances the veriest twaddle, while
others contained tolerably good sense, even in language rather above the
Medium, unless appearances were misleading, for she looked the
embodiment of ignorant simplicity, and spoke far from grammatically.

The table at which we sat was a very ordinary little sewing-table,
without any drawer or compartment, and before sitting down I examined it
top and bottom, a privilege freely accorded. We had sat about ten
minutes when the Medium brought up the slate with the little piece of
pencil, which I had scratched with a knife for identification, lying on
top of the slate. The screw was in its place, seemingly as I had put it.
I was requested to remove the screw, which I did, and found written
across the inside surface of one of the slates the words "I will try to
accede to your wish," signed with the initials of my departed friend, to
whose handwriting it was not dissimilar. I was much puzzled by this
answer, I confess, and immediately placed within the slates another
question, this time addressed to the name of another deceased friend.
Again I screwed up the slates with my own hand, and kept my eyes riveted
on the hands of the Medium as well as my position would permit, without
getting up and bending over the table. I did not have long to wait
before an answer came as before, again signed with the initials of