lainly reflected in my little mirror which I had slipped out of
my pocket and laid across my knees at the proper angle of reflection.

Mrs. Patterson first wrote a letter-sheet full of alleged Spirit
communications, and handed them to me across the table for perusal. I
took the sheet with one hand and while ostensibly scanning the written
page, with the other hand I carefully adjusted my little mirror, on
which my downcast and watchful eyes were fixed, when lo! in the mirror
_I beheld a hand_, closely resembling that of the Medium, _stealthily
insert its fingers between the leaves of the slate, take out the little
slip, unfold and again fold it, grasp the little pencil_, which had
rolled to the front while the slate was tilted that way, _and with rapid
but noiseless motion_ (had there been the least noise from the pencil,
it would have been drowned by the fit of coughing, which, at that
instant, seized the Medium) _write across the slate from left to right,
a few lines; then the leaves of the slate were closed, the little pencil
laid on the top_, and, over all, two hands were folded as if in
benediction. The woman opposite me, to whom the hands belonged (unless
they were Spirit hands) sat with uplifted eyes, a calm expression of
innocence upon her face. After holding the slates so for a moment or
two, and after calling to the Spirit friends "to come and _please_ write
in the slate," she produced them, saying, "It has come!"

Of course, I did all I could to master my indignation, which, at that
moment, was extreme, and quietly opening the slates, I read the message
pretending to have come from high authority, "The channels are
obstructed, give Arsenic, Bryonia and Pulsatilla in succeeding doses, an
hour apart!" The last words were somewhat illegible, and Mrs. Patterson
suggested another trial; she thought the Spirits would write it plainer.
Again the slates went down; _again I saw the hand at work as before_.
This second time the hurriedly written message was not much plainer than
the first. Mrs. Patterson, who was better versed in deciphering Spirit
dispatches than I, offered to read it for me, but remembering that "all
good things are three," I requested a third trial. After this last
experiment, in which again, _for the third time, in my little mirror, I
saw the stealthy fingers write on the slate_, I told the Medium I was
satisfied, smothered my indignant anger, and left the house as quickly
as I could. For the large