t the winter, the audiences are by no
means composed only of those who go out of idle curiosity; these form
but a small segment of the 'circle,' the majority are regular
attendants, mostly those whose lives have been clouded by sorrow, and
who go thither as to a church or sanctuary, and so serious and earnest
is their deportment that I cannot imagine any temptation to open levity.
This unaffectedly religious character of these seances cannot fail, I
think, to strike even the most indifferent. The careful arrangement of
the visitors who are to compose what is termed the 'circle;' the nice
balancing of positive natures with negative natures, wherein the Medium
is guided by her delicate spiritual insight; the quiet hush; the
whispered conversation; the darkened room; the darker drapery of the
mysterious Cabinet, with its untold possibilities; the subdued chords of
the dim melodeon; the soothing tones of familiar hymns, in which all
voices join; the words full of assurance of a deathless life, of
immortal love, of reunion with earthly idols, not lost, but gone before
only a very little distance, and now present and impatient for the
Medium's trance to enable them to return radiant with love and joy--all
these conspire to kindle emotions deeply religious in hearts that are
breaking under blows of bereavement, and of such, as I have said, the
majority of the audiences are composed. Every effort is made by the
Mediums to heighten the effect. Before entering the Cabinet to undergo
her mysterious trance, the Medium generally makes a short address,
reminding the circle that this is a solemn hour, that here is the
forecourt of the world beyond, thronged with living Spirits, eager to
return, bearing visible, tangible assurance of immortality and of
enduring love, and that the mysterious agency, whereby they return, is
greatly aided by a sympathetic harmony in the circle, and so forth. The
Medium then enters the Cabinet; the curtains close; the light is
lowered; the organ sounds some solemn chords, gliding into the hymn,
'Nearer, my God, to Thee,' which all join in singing. At its close there
is a hush of anticipation; and that nature must be unimpressionable
indeed, that is not stirred when the dark, heavy folds of the curtains
of the Cabinet are discerned to be tremulously moving; and, as they
gently part, disclose a figure veiled from head to foot in robes of
white.

If the return of the heavenly visitant would but end here, I th