The Shadow World

as Cameron, the host, continued: "No, I wouldn't say that. There are

. Quigg, a very positive journalist who sat at hi

of protest. "Oh no! Telepathy is

dying in Bombay or Vienna, and his spirit appeared to you, à la Journal of Psychic Research, with a message, at the exact

?" asked little Miss Bru

t," replied Mrs. Quigg. "The word means fee

took a serious view of anything, answered

d Miss Brush, quietly addressing her neighbor,

believe in a single one of

ve in anything you have n

seen, but I don't believe in a Vienna doctor who claims to be able to

portrait-painter; "that happens every day

done?" asked Miller, br

N

ouldn't believe it even if I

tery unless it is familiar,"

it is strange to me that men like Sir Oliver Lodge and Sir William Crookes shou

rly. "You must have some faith in the big books on

in the hypnotic business what they call 'horses'-that is to say, wretched men and boys, women sometimes, who have trained t

lp. He was out of a job, and I told him I'd blow him to the supper of his life if he would render up the secrets of his trade. He took my offer, but

all basis of abnormal power. Is it not rather suggestive that the number of practising mediums does not materially increase? If it were a mere matter of deception, would there not be thousands at the tr

aid Howard. "I never saw one

orm.' An uncle, when a boy of four, did automatic writing, and one of my aunts recently wrote to me, in relation to my book The Tyranny of the Dark, that for two years (beginning when she was about seventeen) these powers of darkness made her life a hell. It won't do to be

ll it 'hysteria

ny apparently healthy people possess the more ele

hic in some degree,

the appointed day, Reed's patient died suddenly of heart-disease, leaving a sealed letter on his desk. The doctor, fully alive to the singular opportunity, put the letter in his pocket and hastened to the medium. The magician took it in his hand and pondered. At last he said: 'This was written by a

seem to prove a sort of univer

had a sealed letter read, but the psychic research people seem to have absolutely proved p

es. Come, Mr. Garland, we can't leave you men here to talk yourselves out o

glowing in the grate and easy-chairs abounded. The younger people, bringing cushions,

creepy tales. Please go on, Mr. Garland. You said you'd had a good deal of experience-tell us all about it.

ecome a member of the American Psychical Society, which he was helping to form. He wished me to go on the Board of Directors, b

us illogical," commented Harris. "No man who is mourning a relative h

us world. The first case I investigated brought out one of the most fundamental of these facts, which is, that this shadow world lies very close to the sunny, so-called normal day. The secretary of the society had already begun to receive calls for help. A m

ory?" aske

an) and I took the train for Lowell one autumn afternoon. We found Mrs. Jones living in a small, old-fashioned frame house standing hard against the sidewalk, and through the parlor windows, while we awaited the psychic, I watched an endless line of derby hats as the town's me

, please?" as

By-the-way, she was a large, blond, strapping girl of twenty or so-one of the mill-hands-not in the least the sickly, morbid creature I had expected to s

Don't skip," b

It was all unconvincing at the time, but as I look back upon it now, after years of experience, I am inclined to think part of it at least was genuine. And this brings me to say to Mrs. Quigg, and to any other doubter, that you have onl

cry: "What do you me

room, under the same conditions, phenomena will develop which will not merely amaze but scare some of you; and as

am wild to

of course, that some of these highly

some very hard-headed and self-contained people cut strang

out Miss Brush. "It

t to 'go off,'" sa

d. "She is n

"I'll be president, Mrs. Quigg secretary, and Garland can be the

ied, "please let so

nt provided you do not hold me responsible for any ill effects," I said. "I

dy for the questi

outed every

meron. "As president, I suggest a sit

an itching in my thumbs that tells

n a flutter of pl

at it?" aske

quisite is a

le?" asked

lso furnish a convenient place to rest our hands. Anyhow, all the great investigato

to sit at a table in that foolish wa

on nine of us were seated about an oblong mahogany table. Brierly wa

ure. "This is only a trial sitting, you kn

e keep

s to produce the proper mental state; singing softly also tends to harmonize the 'conditions,' as the professionals say. Don't argue and don't be too eager.

e hocus-pocus begins. Why

delight in his disgust. "Now will some one sing 'Annie Laurie,' or any other sweet, low song? Let us get i

ris started the dear old melody, and all jo

atter-of-factly: "Are the conditi

queried, "Whom ar

des,'" I

exclaimed. "Do you b

he guides," was my cryptic re

rly an hour by dint of pretending to hear creakings and to feel throbbings, until at last little Miss Brush beca

n the doubters," said he. "This t

you," she said, decidedly. I was willing to quit, too, b

e hoodoo. Things will happen now," I said, briskly

n a shudder passed over Mrs. Harris,

y?" whispered Mrs. Camer

sing into a sleep. Not a word, Harris!" I

ed upon the table with her hands, shaking it hard from side to side. The table seemed to wake to diabolic ener

," I comman

upon her face. "She does it well," I thought. "I didn't think it in the quiet little lady." At length one ha

ed in a very singular way, and almost instant

said I

pt over the paper, and at last, after writing several lines, stopped an

to the ligh

you will be happier. Life is only the

rt

She stared upon it in awe and wonder. "It is his exact signature-and Dolly held the pen just

oving again,"

the air. Brierly, who sat opposite, translated these movements. "She is drawing, free-hand, in the air. She is sketc

eeper

e?" I asked. "C

began to chuckle, rolling upon one hip and throwing one foot over the other like a man taking an easy attitude. She now held the pencil as if it were a cig

d the painter;

San Rem

any Sands at San Remo. It must be some stud

ceptibly, her expression changed, a look of ineffable maternal sweetness came into her face; she s

g were her gestures and her tone. At last I

itatingly, "Yes-I lost

dressing y

of a rollicking girl of rather common fibre. "Hello, Sally!" she cried out, and

r Geny? Remember the night on the door-step

ed, seeing that Mrs. Cameron was r

onating an old class-ma

t!" broke i

t on, "Her name

ood enough. You didn't like me, but no matter; I want to tell you tha

c's delicate and sensitive face, and the ha

"How could Dolly have known that he held hi

cautioned. "She has probably heard you describe it. Or

n a peculiar gesture, laid a blessing upon the head of her hostess. There was so much of sweetness and tolerance in her face, so much of dignity and power in every movement that I was move

e bishop?

ames all will yet be well," she said, and, making the

tting-room, where we could be quiet. Seizing a moment when Mrs. Harris was free from the "influence," I woke her and told her what we were about to do. She followed Mrs. Cameron readily, altho

messages grew a little more definite, a little more coherent, until at last they all cleared up, and this in opposition to our thought, to our first interpretations. It developed that the painter was not named "Sands," but "Felipi," and that he was only trying to tell Brierly that to succeed he should paint rocks and sands and old boats at San Remo. "Pauline," the woman who had seemed to hold a babe, was a friend of Mrs. Cameron's who had died in childbirth. And then swi

, but as she was an intimate friend of Mrs. Cameron, and quite evidently a woman of

ps, mixed with babbled, frantic, incoherent words. I had a perfectly definite impression that she was impersonating some one with his throat cut. Her grimaces were disgusting and terrifying. The women shivered with horror. A few seconds later an

a strangling woman that a sudden clear conception of what it all meant came to me. "She's impersonating a woman on the sca

wly. "Save me!

r do that any more," pleaded Mrs

ut, sharply: "That i

smoothed out, and with a bewildered smile she opened

d you've disclosed a deal of dubio

you been doing to me?" She rubbed her throat. "My neck feels as if it ha

o a quiet little trance, that's all. I was mistaken. Eith

Mrs. Cameron came between us, saying, "Do

ess victim, apparently, to the hidden forces. For a moment I was at a loss. I could not believe that she was deceiving us, but it was possible that she was deceiving herself. "In either

arningly, to Mrs. Cameron: "Do not utter another word of this in Mrs. Harris's presence. She seems to

below to rejoin the frankly con

t luck?" c

said Harris. "What about it? D

ed vaguely, and I said: "Your wife seemed to go into a trance and imperson

shamming, you need discipline; and if you haven't, you need a doctor. I think we'll go home and have it

out of the door than the wom

of it, Mr. Garland?

on' in the case of a public medium may mean nothing-on the part of a psychic like your friend Mrs. Harris it means a very great deal. In support of this, let me tell you of a similar case. I have a friend, a perfectly trustworthy woman, and of keen intelligence, whose 'stunt,' as she laughingly calls it, is to imperson

t it be very creepy

laughingly admitted having been 'in the work' at one time, and I begged for a sitting. We were dining at her house-Jack Ross, a Miss Wilcox, and I, all intimate friends of hers, and she cons

tirely alien influence. Sometimes my body is moved by these forces to rise and walk about the room. In such cases it is necessary for some friend to follow close behind me, for betwe

said I. 'I'll kee

lips parted, and a soft voice came from them. She spoke to Miss Wilcox, who sat opposite her: 'Sister-I am very happ

for a moment could not reply. At length she recove

to her. She needs help. Good-bye!' The smile fad

ognize the sp

work of caring for orphan children. But that proves nothing. Anna may

'But the message concerning your

ame pulsing forth. 'Why do you wilfully blind your eyes? The truth will p

you?' I

r, the psychic's cont

on,' she answered, 'but why I am moved to speak and act as I do I don't know. It is just the same when I write automatically. I know when I do i

came coarse, common, vicious in line. Flinging out her hand, she struck me in the breast. 'What do you want

e you?'

red, with a hoarse laugh. 'A sw

s "party"?' I asked. 'Ross,

s, blurted out, menacingly: 'Don't know me, hey? Well, here I am.

ng door-yard,' I replied; 'no

d struck at me with her claw-lik

d I. 'Get out!'

end's face. She began to moan and wring her hands most piteously. 'Oh, where am I?' she

o are you? Can't you

. Please tell me where I am. I've lost my name. All is so dark and cold. Oh, pity me! Let

said. 'We wi

hank you! Thank you! Oh, the cheer! Oh, the light!' she cried, ecstaticall

a chilled and weary bird, having winged its way from the winter's midnight into a warm room, had

n like chilled and desperate bats condemned to whirl in endless outer darkness and silence-poor, abortive, anomalous shadows,

and pleaded for light, the lovely face of my friend was convulsed with agony and her hand

anish upward, as if into some unfathomable, fourth-dimension heaven. Then the sweet first spirit, the

her eyes as before, clearly, smiling

e out in your dramatic fervor. I must say

ers and every other accursed spirit seemed to be privileged to come into my poor empty house and abuse it, although Parker and his band promised to protect me. I stopped it. I will not sit again,' she said, firmly. 'I don't like it. It would be bad enough to be dominated by one's dead friends, or the dead friends of one's friends, but to be helpless in the hands of all the demons and suicides and miscreants

t soon forget. By-the-way, Miss Wilcox 'phoned and proved the tru

on said: "Garland, you tell t

ulism, hypnotism, anything you like, but that certain people are moved subconsciously to impersonate the dead I am quite ready to believe. However, 'impersonation' is the least convincing (from my point of view) of all the phases of

ggest as the proper m

acts,' and it chances that a practised though non-professional psychic with whom I have

Mrs. Cameron and M

he?" aske

said, tantalizingly. "She is very puzzling,

ptly. "I'm getting interes

a steel trap. "Bring on your faker. It won

onquered," I retorted. "All right. I'll see wh

ameron; "come

rris, I should say that you had made this all up between you. As it is, I guess I'll have t

make you doubt the existence of matter before we fini