irl. Really, Mrs. Winslow, I'm surprised at your poetical nature."

"Poetical nature?" repeated the woman excitedly. "Why! that is what Lyon
loved in me most. My trance-sittings are wonderful exhibitions of
poetical power. In that state I can compose poems of great length and
power."

The gentlemen of course seemed incredulous at this statement, and
challenged her to a test of her poetical trance-power, which she
instantly accepted, the wager being a quart of the best brandy that
could be had in the city of Rochester.

Putting herself in position, she asked: "What subject?" Bristol replied,
"Lyon," when she struggled a little in her chair, kicked the floor a
little with her heels, rubbed up her eyes, gasped, and after a moment of
rest began to incant in a kind of monotone tenor:

"Oh, Lyon, Lyon! don't you run;
The suit's begun; we'll have our fun
Before we're done. I'll tell your son
That I have won, although you shun
Your darling one!"

"Oh, Lyon, pray, why speed away?
To fight a woman is but play.
Although you're old, and bald, and gray,
Do right by your Amanda J.--
You'll soon be clay!"

Amanda J. Winslow, for this was the woman's assumed name in full, might
have continued in this divine strain for an indefinite period, had not
the operatives burst into loud and prolonged laughter at her ludicrous
appearance, which so disgusted the woman that, though communicating with
celestial spheres, as she assumed to be, and undoubtedly was doing as
much as any of her craft ever did, she jumped up with a bound, savagely
told the men they were a brace of fools, and with a lively remark or
two, which had something very like an oath in it, went to bed, leaving
the men to finish the bottle and the poetry as they saw fit.

Mrs. Winslow was a thorough church-goer, and distributed the favor of
her attendance among the orthodox churches and the "meetings" of the
members of her own faith, quite fairly--perhaps, as was natural, giving
the Washington Hall Sunday evening Spiritualistic lectures a slight
preference; and soon after the Arcade affair, which had launched her
into poetry, she returned to the rooms one Sunday evening, declaring
that all her evil spirits had left her, and that her former passionate
love for Lyon had also departed, her only desire now being for his
money.

To show how thoroughly she had been dispossessed of her evil spirits,
she remarked that she now thoroughly hate