The Missing Link In Modern Spiritualism Part 41

We would see them only by the flashes of the lightning. When the flash had vanished, all was blackness; but, on its return, there they were still, different forms and with varying features; and they looked as natural as when in this--our life. What were our feelings? How could I express, or who will need that I should attempt to do so? We all responded deeply to Dr. Wilson's exclamation, "I would not have missed this for all the world! Oh, who after such a sight could ever again commit a sin?"

It would seem that while we had no Spiritual sight to see them clairvoyantly in the darkness, they could bear the electric brightness of the lightning which revealed them to our eyes.

A deep awe rested on us all, and we all united in the following beautiful old Methodist hymn which my mother sang. Many a time afterward we have sat in the hope of a repet.i.tion of this glorious spectacle; and Dr. Wilson would come when there seemed some prospect of thunder and lightning. But it never came again. Perhaps there was something in the quiet solemnity of that Sabbath hour which prompted it to the Spirits; and once shown, it was enough: for memory could not but keep it ever fresh in our minds, as it is and will forever remain in mine.

What's this that steals, that steals upon my frame, Is it death, is it death?

That soon will quench, will quench this vital frame, Is it death, is it death?

If this is death, I soon shall be From every pain and sorrow free, I shall the King of Glory see, All is well, all is well!

Weep not, my friends, my friends, weep not for me, All is well, all is well, My sins are pardoned, pardoned, I am free, All is well, all is well.

There's not a cloud that does arise, To hide my Saviour from my eyes, I soon shall mount the upper skies, All is well, all is well.

Tune, tune your harps, your harps, ye saints in glory, All is well, all is well.

I will rehea.r.s.e, rehea.r.s.e the pleasing story, All is well, all is well!

Bright angels are from glory come, They're round my bed, they're in my room, They wait to waft my Spirit home, All is well, all is well!

SCARCELY CREDIBLE, BUT TRUE.

A strange adventure befell me, at the age of between eight and nine years, which has always left a vivid impression on my mind; and I cannot resist the prompting to insert here a short summary of it. I will leave my readers to judge of it for themselves.

I had obtained grandmother's permission to visit some little girls at the house of their father, Mr. c.o.x; which was granted on condition that I should be sure to come home before nightfall.

It was about a mile and a half distant from home by the main road, though less than a mile through the woods. Much of that part of the country was at that time uncultivated and abounded with wild beasts of every description of the period.

I got safely to Mr. C.'s; and had a day so happy that it was only the threatening clouds of an approaching storm which warned me that it was high time to start for home. I set out by the roadway, but Mrs. c.o.x called me back and sent two of her daughters to escort me through the woods by the shorter paths, familiar to them on their way to school. We had gone about half the distance through the woods, when sharp lightning and heavy thunder announced that the storm was close at hand; and the children left me at a point from which, as they supposed, I could not miss my further way. They gave me directions how to proceed. I followed them, as I supposed; but the darkness soon became intense, and the storm burst in all its fury. The thunder and lightning were terrific, the rain fell in torrents, and I was a very little girl alone in the woods.

I heard the distant cries of the inhabitants of the wilderness, and hurriedly pressed forward in the hope of following the right track, but constantly changing my idea of which direction to take. After long wanderings in this way, I fancied it to be about midnight, when the howling of the winds rose to be nearly that of a tornado, and the crashing of falling trees, torn up by the roots, seemed to surround me in all directions.

I had been twenty times on my knees, in childish prayer to G.o.d to take me home; but perhaps G.o.d in heaven is too abstract an idea to be realized by a child of that age, and I would instinctively find myself addressing my great-grandfather, who was the only person whose death I had ever witnessed. I had known him to be good and kind. He was a man of unusual stature and strength. Him I could understand to be in heaven, and powerful to save me. I remember I prayed with my eyes closed, fearing I should behold some terrible phantom, for in our family experience and tradition there had been many strange stories.

I wandered all through that terrible night, and only rested on my knees, when praying to G.o.d and the angels (especially him, my grandfather) to protect me. Storm-beaten and drenched as I then was I sat down and cried bitterly. Suddenly my attention was arrested by an unusual sound, as of boughs breaking and twigs crackling. I looked in the direction of the sound and saw, standing high upon the trunk of a fallen tree, a large, good-natured looking dog, which I supposed to be Mr. c.o.x's dog, "Rover."

Immediately fear left me. I felt him to be _rescue and safety_. I called to him, "Rover, Rover!" and tried to get near him, but he turned from me leading the way. I followed; he looking back frequently, as if to see whether or not I followed him. After wandering some time through zig-zag routes, he brought me to Deacon Demarest's place, which I recognized, as the house had recently been burned and I could not mistake it. At this point he loitered a moment, and came so near me that I reached out my hand to caress him, but could or did not touch him, although he pressed against me palpably several times.

He "waggled himself" so like a dog, and seemed so kind to me that I became fondly attached to him. On I went, following him through cross-lots and over fences, startling the cattle to their feet, and causing a great jingling of cowbells, never looking back, but intently following the dog, fearing to lose sight of him for a moment, lest he should leave me. At last we came to my home. The house stood about a hundred feet from the road. There were two gates of entrance to the door-yard or grounds: one a foot-gate, the other for carriages, etc.

I opened the small gate and held it open, supposing the dog would pa.s.s through it; but judge of my amazement to see him instead of doing so, scale the great gate with a bound and meet me face to face on the other side, but no longer a dog! (Perhaps, at that instant, it was a fleeting vision of a dog, but it is certain he disappeared and was no more seen), while the n.o.ble form of my great-grandfather, with his loving smile, for a moment stood before me at the gate, by the early morning light. I gave a scream which brought my grandfather from the house to the door, exclaiming, "Great G.o.d! the child has been out in the woods all night."

I was put to bed, from which I did not rise for a week. At times it was feared that I never should rise from it, such was the effect of the exposure, fatigue, and fright of that terrible night. Mr. Redfield (mentioned on page 8, etc.) had spent the evening and night at our house, and was told how I had disobeyed my orders to return home before dark, and that I was evidently detained at Mr. c.o.x's. He said, before starting in the morning, that he would stop at Mr. c.o.x's on his way to mill, and see about me. On his informing Mr. c.o.x that I had not returned home, the latter hastened to our house in great fright lest evil had befallen me from the animals or other adventure of the woods. He found me of course safe and asleep in my grandmother's bed. He was a devout Methodist, and knelt by my bedside and prayed over me with thanks to G.o.d that I had been preserved through the terrors of that night of storm in those wild woods, and, as I was told afterward, sobs of all the female members of the family accompanied his prayer.

There are many persons of the neighborhood still living whose recollection can verify this story, and with whom it it is talked over when we meet, such as Evander Smith, John Onderdonk (a cousin of mine), Philip Demarest, Albert Collins, etc.

A GAME OF EUCHRE.

Dr. A. D. Wilson, one of the most prominent physicians of New York, was one of my dearest and best of friends. He had once--before my marriage--had the experience of playing a game of euchre (through me as medium) with an old Spirit friend of his, who, when in the flesh had been his frequent companion at the game. I do not recall the particulars of that former game sufficiently to relate it with accuracy; but one day Dr. Wilson was telling the story to Mr. Underhill, who thereupon asked the Spirits if they would play a game with him, which he was promised should be done. This promise was made some three years before its fulfilment came about, during which time Mr. Underhill had frequently reminded the Spirits of their unfulfilled promise. It was an interesting experience, and I felt desirous of again witnessing it. One evening at about eight o'clock (it was in about 1862), our nephew C. O. Smith (a lad who figures as Charlie in the sketch of our Ohio campaign) was seated at one end of the table studying his lessons under bright gaslight. My husband and myself were the only other persons in the room--which was the library, front room of the second story. Mr.

Underhill was reclining on the lounge, and I was seated near the middle window. By a simultaneous impulse (and such _simultaneous impulses_ were a frequent experience with us) my husband and myself started up and seated ourselves at the table. I will continue the story as I have it written by Mr. Underhill himself.

"Leah and myself sat opposite each other, Charlie being seated at the end of the table between us, with his books. I asked the Spirit once again if he would fulfil the promise given long ago to play a game of cards, as was occasionally done between Leah and myself. 'I'll try,'

was answered. I asked, 'Who is it? Will you give me your name?' The alphabet being then called for, the name was given me privately, not by rapping, which Leah would of course have heard, but by touches on my foot, in correspondence to the letters of the alphabet. It was 'Calvin,'

which I kept to myself, since it seemed to be meant to be for myself alone; but as Leah was inquisitive, she repeated the request for the name, to which no response came. On her persevering with the request, it was rapped out, 'I can't be pumped.' This was just like Calvin, who, when he had once declined to answer a question would never be forced to do so. The cards were then called for by the Spirit, and I was directed to put the pack under the table. Presently it was rapped, 'Cut for deal.' I stooped down and cut the pack on the floor, and laid my cut alongside of the pack. The Spirit then said, 'Look,' and there under the table lay his cut, on the other side of the pack. It was better than mine, and gave him the deal. It was a right bower. We then distinctly heard a shuffling of the cards under the table, and the Spirit called on me to cut them. I said to him, 'But you have the advantage over me, as you have all the cards under there to yourself.' He replied, 'Yes, I can see them all, but I will play fair.' He then told me to put my hand under the table, and my three cards were placed in it. I was again directed to look, and found that he had also dealt himself three. The other two due to each player were then dealt in the same way. On being directed to look again under the table I saw that his turn-up card was a jack. As the trump did not suit my hand, I said, 'I pa.s.s.' The Spirit took it and discarded. I then led, by laying my card on the table. The Spirit responded to my play by placing his card into my hand which I held under the table to receive it. In that hand he made a march. We thus played out that game in four deals, which he won, making five points to my two. I did not doubt his having played fair. I then told Leah who my antagonist had been, and she said, 'How like Calvin that was to answer my pertinacious interrogation by saying that he would not be pumped.'"

MARGARETTA'S DREAM.

One morning, when my sister Margaretta came down to breakfast, she was looking pale, and tears were in her eyes. She related a dream which had greatly affected her.

"I was," she said, "sitting in the north room at home (in father's house). The door was open. Suddenly the sun seemed to be eclipsed: while the atmosphere was filled with particles of dust, which at times were wafted in clouds which nearly obscured my vision. (The road is visible from the door for the distance of half a mile.) I observed a form slowly approaching amid the shower of dust and debris; and as it came nearer I recognized in it my sister Maria, dressed in deep black, and ran to meet her. She raised her hands, saying, 'O Maggie! isn't this dreadful?' As we met, a leaf (as from a book) dropped at our feet. I picked up the leaf and read from it these words:

"Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set--but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!"

We were all deeply impressed, and felt it to be a warning of some sad event in the near future.

It was early, we had not yet breakfasted, and were sitting together feeling very dejected, when my brother (who lived thirty miles east of Rochester) walked into our room, and finding us all in tears, threw his arms gently around mother's neck and asked her what was the matter.

We told him Margaretta's dream, well knowing that he must have sad tidings to relate to us, as he had ridden all night to get there at that hour of the morning. He wept, and sobbing aloud said: "I am the messenger of sorrowful tidings. Dear little Sanford Smith is dead." This was sister Maria's little son, seven years of age. David then told us how the darling child had pa.s.sed away. He died of croup. They did not consider him dangerously ill at first, but hastened for the doctor. When his mother stood over him, trying to make him more comfortable, tears dropped from her eyes upon his precious face. He pulled her down and kissed her, and with his little handkerchief wiped her tears away, saying, "Ma, don't cry so. I will be your guardian spirit, and rap just so"--making the sounds with his darling fingers on the head-board. He was a beautiful and interesting child: and it nearly broke their hearts to lay him away from their earthly sight, though conscious of his spiritual presence.

While Margaretta was dreaming that truly wonderful dream, my brother David was on his way to inform us of the child's death.

MISTAKEN NAMES CORRECTED BY SPIRITS.

Dr. A. D. Wilson and Dr. Kirby, both men of high distinction, introduced to me by Dr. John F. Gray, and who afterward became thorough Spiritualists and my dear friends, made a bad start in their first experiences at my circles. They both went away somewhat disgusted with the wrong names which the Spirits of their relatives had attributed to themselves. Dr. Wilson's father having given his name as "Patrick;" and Dr. Kirby's wife having called herself "Mary Anne." They compared notes as they went out together. Dr. Wilson said that his father was not Patrick, but Peter; and Dr. Kirby that his wife's name was Nancy.

Soon after Dr. Wilson came across his father's old diploma. He had graduated at Edinburgh before coming to New York, where he became a professor in (I believe) Columbia College, and there was his name recorded at full length as "Patrick." He was not an Irishman, but a Scotchman, and did not fancy being called "Pat," and used to sign with his initial; and somehow or other Peter got so fastened upon him that his own son never knew his real name to have been Patrick till he found it on this old diploma. Dr. Kirby complained to his mother-in-law that his wife Nancy had given her name as "Mary Anne." "Why, did you never know that Nancy was christened Mary Anne?" was her reply. The two doctors again compared notes together to better purpose than before; and we all had a hearty laugh when they came together to tell us this curious and excellent test they had both happened to receive. They were both distinguished h.o.m.oeopathic physicians, as was also their intimate friend, Dr. Gray, by whom they had been introduced.

AN UNWILLING CONVERT MADE HAPPY AND GRATEFUL.

One evening (in Ludlow Place) so severe a storm was raging, and it was so bitterly cold, that I had no fear of any visitors coming in, and had settled myself for comfort in the bas.e.m.e.nt room, and allowed the fire in the parlor to go out. But the bell rang, and Susie announced a party of four or five gentlemen. They had been brought by one of my good friends from the St. Nicholas Hotel. They were all Southerners; and one of them, an old gentleman, had been seduced out to go with the party to "some place of entertainment," without knowing what or where. (He was bitterly prejudiced against Spiritualism and us.) When he got in and learned into what he had been entrapped, he was very angry, and refused to pay his dollar or to go any farther. Susie reported that he was up in the hall, and their hack had been dismissed. I sent word to invite him down to the warm room, unless he chose to remain out in the cold, for which I should be sorry. He finally came down, but sat apart in a corner of the room as distant as possible from the group of us gathered round the table near the fire. He was, as I afterward learned, an old man now left alone in the world with his wealth; a large family having been swept away from him, chiefly by yellow fever. He replied somewhat gruffly to my invitation to him to draw up to the fire, and my friend scratched a few lines to me telling me to take no notice further as he was a sceptic, and very angry at the trick they had played upon him. Before long came some raps, saying, "Father, do come to the table and get warm," signed with the names of his wife and a number of his children: and they happened to be rather unusual names, of which I remember only Tabitha, Rebecca, and Sarah. As one after another he heard them rapped out, he turned in his seat and became evidently excited and affected, and even tears began to stream down his aged face. He came to the table, where he received such satisfaction that his long-lost dead were really there and speaking to him, that when the party broke up he expressed great grat.i.tude; and said that though he had refused to pay his dollar, he insisted on my acceptance of the $20 bill which he laid on the table.

He afterwards wrote me a beautiful letter, from the extreme South, telling me that he had been a materialist, with no belief in the immortality of the soul; but that now all life was changed for him; that he now knew that his wife and children still lived and loved and were near to him, and that he would soon be with them again. And he gave me such grateful blessings as were a compensation for the hardships and suffering I had sometimes to encounter in the course of my career of mediumship. The friend who had done him the unwelcome service of thus entrapping him within my doors is still living, and owns a large orange plantation in Florida; and I have no objection to refer to him any reader whose prejudices may require any confirmation of the strict accuracy of this narrative of one of the pleasantest reminiscences of my life.

A SPIRIT KNOWS BETTER THAN THE POSTMASTER.

One morning we received a message, by rapping, to this effect:

"Your Uncle John is on his way, and will be here to-morrow morning."

He was then on a visit to my sister at Consecon, Canada West. We dearly loved Uncle John, and were delighted at this announcement; and as we had never been deceived by anything thus volunteered by our Spirit friends, we made all preparations for his arrival, and told several friends that he was coming. Morning came, but no Uncle John. We went to the boat-landing from across the lake ("Hanford's landing," then about a couple of miles from Rochester, though the city has now pretty well grown down to it); but no one knew anything about him. We then went to Amy Post, and told her how we had been deceived and disappointed by the Spirits. Mrs. Post was seriously affected by the false prophecy, or announcement, and could not be reconciled to the situation without some further explanation from those who had deceived us. All we got from them was this: "Go to the post-office and you will find a letter which will explain." On doing so we were told that there was none in our box. We (Mrs. Post, Miss Coles, Sister Kate, and myself), after a little talk over it, asked the Spirits why they persisted in such falsehoods, with more questions which I cannot distinctly remember. We received the reply (by rappings): "Go back and say you have just been told there _was_ a letter there. Tell them to look among the promiscuous letters, and it will be found." (Spirits can emphasize by the strength of their raps as well as we can by italics.) Of course we did accordingly, and the clerk returned with a large letter, asking if my name was Leah A. Fish; which, of course, it was, with a variation in the order of Christian names, and probably I had asked for the name of A. L. Fish, perhaps omitting the full name of "Leah."

The clerk had made a plain mistake. The Spirit had been right.

The letter explained everything. Uncle had started from Consecon, but had been overtaken at Coburg by a subpoena to attend an important trial, in which he was the princ.i.p.al witness.

Spirits are but disembodied men and women, and are not much more omniscient after their disembodiment than they had been before it. They had given their message truly before he had been overtaken at Coburg with the subpoena. They had followed or accompanied Uncle John, but had no cognizance of outside circ.u.mstances which had occurred subsequently to their announcement, and then quitted him. There is instruction in this, as well as a curious interest.

OPENING OF A COMBINATION LOCK.