INTRODUCTION

Every attempt-such as the one I am making- to bring home to mortals the knowledge of the proximity of their beloved dead must, owing to the very nature of the subject, be only partially successful. There are five difficulties with which I have to contend­(1) the reluctance of people to write at all: (2) their special reluctance to put on paper details which may sooner or later give pain or offence to living friends or relatives; (3) the national habit of reserve which causes many a man to become an oyster when he thinks he may be betrayed into revealing his innermost feelings – that which deeply stirs his heart; (4) the fear of ridicule, diminution of income, loss of position, or respect of his fellow men ; (5) the apprehension of appearing more credulous than his associates (perhaps the most powerful motive for silence). Thus, after all, the man who aims at obtaining the true opinions of investigators into this sacred subject only receives the rind of the fruit; the fruit itself remains untouched.

To some extent I, the author- or, more properly, the editor- of this collection of narratives am “cribbed, cabined, and confined” by one or other of the above restrictions. Neither in Glimpses of the Next State, nor in this sequel, have I given the whole evidence for the faith that is in me. I have submitted all I can with propriety, but there is much behind that is suppressed which, if known, would be absolutely convincing to the few, but become the subject of ignorant buffoonery to the many- to the great majority who are tied and bound by sacerdotalism or materialism.

However the requests I have made to those who have had sittings with this highly­privileged woman, Mrs. Etta Wriedt, have been met with as willing a response as one can expect, considering the age in which we live; and the narratives which have been furnished me I earnestly hope may assist the weary and dispirited to take up their lives again and bravely face the future in the sure and certain hope that they will meet, at no great distance of time, with those they have lost awhile ; or, at any rate, encourage them to seek assurance for themselves by personal investigation on the same lines.

That noble soul W.T. Stead, conceived a plan for giving comfort to the bereaved which was perfect of its kind; but the form that it took rendered it liable to extinction directly its founder passed to the higher life. But the spirit of “Julia’s Bureau” still lives. It is in the power of every man and woman in comfortable circumstances to carry out the idea in their own person. Let us each do what we, individually, can to assist, with our purse, those whom we know to be in trouble to find consolation by investigation through competent psychics. If we do this, have we not accomplished in detail, what Stead and his guide, Julia, did in wholesale fashion? In these days of general education it is futile to tell a man of any intelligence that he will meet his child again some millions of years hence on a day of Judgement, when he may again part with him. He wants to know if his child is alive now; if he is happy or likely to become so ; if he will be restored to him ; if he will again hold him in his arms, and be to him what he was before his transition to the Next State. Whether his child was good, or whether he was bad, the parent’s mind cannot grasp that he is eternally lost to him. His sense of justice revolts against the decree of the Church, and he will have none of it. It is to this man that spiritism appeals; and it is this man that all should desire to help.

And help is at hand. This American woman has a mysterious gift which enables those who sit in the same room with her to learn of the continued existence of those whose

physical bodies have perished. The possession of this strange power is acquired by no virtue of her own; she was born with it. Unlike the gifts of poesy, art, oratory, or song, it demands from her no effort; and, with proper precautions, it causes no strain upon her physical constitution. To exhibit it, all she has to do is to sit passively in a chair, preferably in pitch darkness. It is, indeed, difficult to know what her personality has to do with the phenomena, for she never goes into the trance condition, and talks naturally throughout. What we do know is that we cannot hear a whisper when she is out of the house, but that, if she is in the room, we can distinguish voices in full light or in darkness; if in the latter, they speak louder, longer, clearer, and, in every way, more satisfactorily than in light. When the room is made pitch dark we can not only hear the voices, but can see, as phantasms, those to whom they belong.

We are told by Dr. Sharp that the power to speak is obtained from the sitters, and that they succeed or fail according to what “they are able to give out”; that some people give out freely, others not at all, and that his medium is not “drawn upon” more than is absolutely necessary. He includes me in the first category, and, if I am to judge by my feelings after a good private séance, he is correct, for I am depleted, and cannot continue investigations without long periods of rest. That Mrs. Wriedt is not drained is proved to my satisfaction by the following incident:- In 1913, owing to her suddenly announcing her intention to leave Cambridge House twenty-four hours before the time agreed upon, I found myself obliged to put four more sitters than was customary into the last day of her visit. In the morning she gave four private sittings; in the afternoon four; and in the evening she held a general circle of twelve people. All these séances were successful. At 10 p.m. one of the party took her to Euston in his motor, and forty-five hours later she began a series of excellent séances in Glasgow.

Mrs. Wriedt is controlled by Dr. John Sharp, who was born in Glasgow in the eighteenth century, lived all his life in the United States as an apothecary farmer, and died in Evansville, Indiana. He states that he was taken over to America by his parents when he was two months old. I have never known him say an unkind word, nor express any feeling but benevolence and desire to assist all who seek the help of his medium. He frequently straightens out obscure messages, and invariably endeavours to manage the sittings to the best advantage of those present. Very often he talks what, in a mortal, I should call nonsense; but I think he is limited in expression – in some curious way – by the absence of any sort of culture in his medium.

John King (Sir Henry Morgan), the control of Cecil Husk, the blind medium, frequently managed Mrs. Wriedt’s séances in England. It was explained that he was better acquainted with English people than Dr. Sharp, who, however, was always in the background. He only put in a word or two at Rothesay.

Grayfeather, a North American Indian medicine chief when in life, the control of J. B. Jonson, the materialisation medium of Toledo, Ohio, U.S.A., visited me several times at Cambridge House, and often came to the circles; he seldom manifested when I was absent. He did not come to Rothesay at all.

Mimi and Blossom were casual visitors. The former we know nothing about. Blossom states that in life she belonged to the Seminole tribe of Indians, who lived in the Everglades, South Florida, and that she died as a child. It is as a noisy fractious, but extremely witty child that she now manifests. Her talk, engaging manner, and lively