She said that a
spirit had seized her hand and would write. I handed her some sheets
of paper that were on the table, and a pencil. The latter she held
loosely in her hand, which presently began to move over the paper
with a singular and seemingly involuntary motion. After a few
moments had elapsed she handed me the paper, on which I found written,
in a large, uncultivated hand, the words, "He is not here, but has
been sent for." A pause of a minute or so now ensued, during which
Mrs. Vulpes remained perfectly silent, but the raps continued at
regular intervals. When the short period I mention had elapsed, the
hand of the medium was again seized with its convulsive tremor, and
she wrote, under this strange influence, a few words on the paper,
which she handed to me. They were as follows:
"I am here. Question me.
"LEEUWENHOEK."
I was, astounded. The name was identical with that I had written
beneath the table, and carefully kept concealed. Neither was it at
all probable that an uncultivated woman like Mrs. Vulpes should know
even the name of the great father of microscopies. It may have been
Biology; but this theory was soon doomed to be destroyed. I wrote on
my slip--still concealing it from Mrs. Vulpes--a series of
questions, which, to avoid tediousness, I shall place with the
responses in the order in which they occurred.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283