THE TESTIMONY OF MR. WILLIAM JEFFREY

No. 1.—Mr. William Jeffrey, 15 India Street, Glasgow, keen observation and of recognised business ability, is the sole partner in one of the largest timber and sawmill businesses in that city. He had several séances with Mrs. Wriedt. In an interview with him I took the following notes :—

“I became very much interested in Mrs. Wriedt’s mediumship, through reading in Light lately your account of the séances held in Rothesay in 1912, and determined to have some séances with her as soon as convenient. I met Mrs. Wriedt shortly after her arrival in Glasgow from London, and our first séance was held July 2, in my own house, 15 India Street, Glasgow. In addition to my people, I phoned a few others and made up the circle. There were seventeen present, all of whom I knew to be genuine people. As you wish, I will not touch upon what took place as far as the other sitters were concerned, but only with that which appealed to me personally.

“The first voice we heard was that of my wife, who welcomed to her house all there, addressing several by name, including Mr. Galloway, Mrs. Birrell, and a visitor from London, whom (in life) she did not know. Her voice, which was quite clear, said, ‘O, Willie, I’m awfu’ glad to be here, an’ speak in my home to you and these friends.’ My wife (who usually spoke good English, could, and often did, lapse into old Scotch ways of speaking when either very pleased or talking to intimates) addressed us in her earnest, homely, and rapid way, ‘I trust you will have a pleasant evening.’ Then she went round and spoke to each member of the family. The voice never erred when it addressed ‘Bella’ or ‘Sally’ in a loving way, or prefixed ‘Mr.’ or ‘Mrs.’ To persons whom my wife would have addressed in that way in life.

“A voice which we recognised at once came close to me: ‘Bill, Bill, how are ye?’ ‘Who are you friend?’ I asked. ‘Neil, Neil; I’m Neil, man!’ followed by a hearty laugh. Neil McQuarrie was a relative by marriage, and had been for many years our cashier. He had a peculiar way of speaking, and at times was ‘ verra braid an hamely,’ and his laugh was not like anyone I knew. For a little while he spoke to his wife, about his children, each by name. There was no mistaking his references, and his kindly expressions, designed to cheer, conveyed a world of meaning. Mrs. White, who sat next to me, whispered, ‘Do you think he’ll know me?’ and immediately the answer came, ‘Dae ye no think A ken ye, Annie White? Hoo are ye a’ in London?’ The voice then addressed my son-in-law, Mr. Kerr. ‘Charlie, hoo are ye keeping? But a’m surprised to see ye here. Ye’renae sae lang-headed as Bill (myself), whom ye thocht was a wee bit off; but ye’ll get something tae-night that’ll convince ye.’ This was so like Neil, and he followed this outburst with a genial laugh. It was his laugh at this point which made the recognition unmistakable. The voice came to me and thanked me for certain things I had done for him in life, and for his wife and children since. I’ll not forget it, and ye'll never lose by it.'’ To my daughter (Mrs. Kerr) he said, "“ hae tae thank ye for lookin’ a'ter ma boys.'’ Mrs. Kerr: '‘o you think I have been too severe in chastising them?'’ 'Weel, no; they’re a bit self-willed an thro’ ‘ither; but that is because they’ve nae faither to gie them bit guidin’; min’ that. Ye’re doin’ quite right; bit lead them whiles.’ Then he bid us all good night.

My daughter Isa came next, and we all had a nice little talk; and she left sending out love and kisses to us all.

Another voice came saying ‘Jeffrey!’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘I’m Captain George Miller’s father.’ I said, ‘I did not know you.’ ‘Well, man, I ken ye fine, an’ wis wi’ ye an ‘Captain George when ye wis on yer holidays in Orkney an’ Shetland last month.’ This was pretty much to the point. I asked, ’What did you think of them?’ The voice, ‘It wisna much of a holiday for weather, but it pit a lot o’ backbone in ye.’ I hoped so, and said I would tell Captain George that he had been. ‘Man ye needn’t fash. Ye might as well tell a log, for he will no believe ye.’

“Fifteen of the seventeen visitors present received messages. I think they were satisfied, and many were delighted. Owing to my wife being able to manifest so fully through Mrs. Coates some months previously, I had looked for her to make herself known—according to her promise—on this occasion. Yet what took place was beyond my most sanguine anticipations. It was simply marvellous. The medium, Mrs. Wriedt, was a stranger, whom I met for the first time that morning. The séance was hurriedly convened by wire and ‘phone, and took place in a room hastily arranged for the purpose. If the results are not evidence for spirit return, then I am at a loss to know what could be more valuable or important.

“The next séance we had was on Thursday, July 3, and was held in one of the rooms of the Glasgow Association of Spiritualists, Berkley Street Hall. I got a ‘phone asking me to come and bring a few others, as they were short of sitters. I ‘phoned Mrs. McMaster, and she came by putting off an engagement—so that, as a visitor, her presence was wholly unexpected. This lady had never been to a séance before. The very first voice which came was that of her husband, who had passed out nine months before. He came saying, ‘Nellie, Nellie!’ Mrs. McMaster replied, feeling it was him. ‘Is that you pa?’ ‘Yes dear,’ was the response. I said I thought the voice was like his, and suggested that she speak freely to it. ‘Yes, dear,’ giving kisses. ‘I am so pleased to come and talk to you. You were a good lass to me. I’m so glad to see you getting on so well. Give my love to Jeffrey.’ Mrs. McMaster; ‘You can give your love to Mr. Jeffrey yourself, for he is sitting next to me.’ The voice emphatically: ‘ No, no; I want you to give my love to my little boy, Jeffrey McMaster.’ The whole of this conversation, and the circumstances under which it took place, were most telling. Before McMaster left, he said ‘It was Bella’ (meaning my wife in the spirit world) ‘brought me here’; and concluded giving his love to his wife and messages to his family.

“Mrs. Jeffrey came in her pleasant way and had a homely chat, and this was followed by a word or two from my daughter Isa. There was one feature at this séance which impressed us—namely, the free sprinkling of water upon us all. I mention this, too, as there was no water in the room. I did not see any, and Mr. Galloway, who had the preparation of the room, said there was none. Apart from this phenomenon, the meaning of the sprinkling is, I am told, ‘blessing and purification.’

We had another sitting in the same place, Friday evening, July 4. There were present my daughter Mrs. Kerr, niece, and myself. My wife came and spoke for a little while to all of us. I asked, ‘Bella, did you like the service I had at your funeral?’ ‘Oh, it was very nice indeed, but,’ with a laugh, ‘the minister said far more about me than he knew.’ (We did not think so, as my wife in her lifetime was a good friend to anyone in sickness and distress.) She thanked me ‘for the nice way you laid me to rest,’ and said she was ‘pleased to see all the folk had come to it.’ She finished with a little talk to us all about our affairs in a general way and some kindly counsel to myself. To my daughter, niece, and myself, what the voice said was conclusive.

“The Séance on July 5 was attended by my daughter, son-in-law, and niece. I mention these to indicate that I am not assuming nor imagining what took place, but give their evidence. Here again my wife appeared and spoke to her daughter and Mr. Kerr. This sitting was brought to a close by the presence of a sitter asking impertinent questions about tramways and flying machines over there. The trumpet was put down with a bang, and there was no more voices that evening.

Monday, July 7, Berkley Street Hall. Mrs. Kerr and I attended. I had been thinking about Bella, my wife; but the first to address me was a very old friend named Sterling, who had departed this life some twenty years ago. I asked him who brought him here. He said, ‘Mrs. Jeffrey; she is helping a lot of people to come.’ As he had only given his name, I said, ‘Are you the Mr. Sterling I knew long ago?’ ‘Yes,’ was the reply. ‘Well do you remember what was the matter with you before you died?’ I asked. He answered, ‘I was totally blind for five years.’ This was correct and a strong bit of evidence to us. Mrs. Kerr: ‘Have you seen Mrs. Sterling?” ‘Oh yes, dear; we are very happy here.’ I need not detail what was said; all was correct.

“Mrs. Wriedt said there was a spirit present who had shot himself. He was for Mr. Robertson of Helensburgh. ‘Did he know a man like that?’ Mr. Robertson: ‘Yes; he was thought to have committed suicide by shooting himself.’ Afterwards the voice addressed Mr. Robertson, and he, satisfied to the identity, asked, ‘Did the gun go off accidentally or intentionally?’ The voice assured him it was an accident. ‘Man, I had nae need to do it’ (commit suicide). Everyone seemed to think he had, but Mr. Robertson was always of the opinion it was an accident, and what the spirit said accorded with this belief. The man had been with him a night or so before his death, and told him, among other things, who nicely everything was going on in business and other matters; he was in a cheery mood. The voice insisted that the story of his suicide was not true. ‘Man, I’d nae need tae destroy masel.’ Although the incident is not exactly personal, it so struck me, I thought I would mention it.

My last sitting with Mrs. Wriedt in Glasgow was on Thursday, July 24. There were eighteen present, including the medium, my daughter, son-in-law, niece, cousin, and a friend. The first to speak was my wife, and, after a kindly word and inquiry to each, said she was sorry that these meetings were coming to an end, and of the great comfort they had given her. I was to understand she was always with me. I asked her how it was she had spoken to me in all the sittings but one. (I had several sittings in Rothesay between July 7 and 24.) She said it was because other relations wanted to speak to me, and ‘I did not wish to be selfish and monopolise the time and prevent others speaking to their friends.’ (She had brought many to the sittings.) She finished by bidding us ‘Adieu till we meet again.’

“A voice purporting to be Mr. Kerr’s mother spoke to us and to him. My daughter then spoke to the spirit, calling attention to the differences which had taken place between them owing to her engagement to her son. They had always been on most pleasant terms till within a short time of the marriage. The spirit answered in a clear and trembling voice, ‘Let bygones be bygones, dear. We will not talk about that, but you must allow for a mothers feelings when she loses her only son.’ All very natural and very true.

“Another voice spoke, that of the late Mr. Kerr—my son-in-law’s father. He had been in spirit life some years. He gave us ‘his crack’ freely. Addressing his son ‘Charlie,’ said he was ‘verra pleased tae see th’ business progress he was makin’ in life. Many thanks tae yer faither-in-law fer what he’s done for ye. Ye hae had a better startin’ in life by faur than ever A had.’ Then addressing me, the voice said: ‘Thank ye Jeffery, for what ye hae done for me laddie, an’ ther’s ae thing A’ll sae fer him, he’ll ne’er gie ye a red face.’ After some friendly and kindly counsel he left.

A voice saying, ‘Colin!’ ‘What Colin?’ ‘Colin Buchanan,’ and shortly afterwards addressing Mrs. McQuarrie already referred to, touching upon some sad and private matters, which I knew were unknown to anyone in that room—never spoken of by me to my daughter or to the nearest friend. It went back into old history of forty years standing. This was a revelation indeed. The facts unfolded were of a character which cannot with propriety be given to others. I regret that this should be the case, for it is evidence of this kind which is so convincing. To say that we were all deeply affected is the least that can be said.

“Mr. Bothwell had a friend who had been drowned, who came and spoke to him. He entered into details about the fact of his passing out, which no one knew anything about. This gentleman was much surprised at what he heard, as he had not believed such communications were possible. In addition to the foregoing another voice may be mentioned, which spoke to Mrs. McMaster. It was that of her daughter ‘Serina,’ who came giving this name, by which she was called in life. She sent her love to all her friends, naming them one by one. She spoke particularly about her only sister, sending her a very pertinent and thoughtful message. She then came to me, and spoke to the rest of her friends present, addressing each by their Christian name. There was no getting away from these facts, which came out in the presence of eighteen sitters. Everyone had a communication in that sitting, and some several. Not one of the voices that spoke that night blundered or was in error.”

Mr. Reid is an artist, living at The Terrace, Ardbeg. His statements referring to phenomena taking place in the presence of fifteen to eighteen persons, including myself, and verified by my shorthand notes, can be taken as correct—except in this, they lack from brevity—and under-state rather than over-state what took place. I have suppressed much of a private character, but there is enough left to give an interesting and coherent account.—J. C.

The Testimony of Mr. Peter Reid

Tuesday, July 8. I was present at this, the opening séance. There were sixteen present, including Mrs. Wriedt, the trumpet medium. I came to these sittings with all the more confidence, as I had the privilege of being present when similar séances were held here last year. While tempted to deal with all that I saw and heard, I will confine myself to what appealed to me personally. The first to come to me was my father, who said; “How are you my boy?” His voice was very distinct for a little, but while he was talking a childish voice broke in. I was informed this was little Blossom, an Indian child. Although we had the phenomena of two voices speaking at once, my father, failing to make himself understood, withdrew. My father, a Perthshire man, spoke excellent English, with sufficient of the Caledonian burr with his “r’s” to make his nationality distinctive enough to our English visitors. During the little conversation we had I asked my father; “What work are you engaged in?” He replied he was engaged in mission work. A statement like this from him was significant because the year before I got the same answer through Mrs. Coates. The voice made reference to my mother, and said she would be able to speak for herself, and to other relatives. There was enough in this brief psychophone conversation to establish his identity. Neither Mrs. Coates nor Mrs. Wriedt knew that my father in earth life, in addition to his usual occupations, had a deep interest in church mission and Sunday­school work. It is quite conceivable that he should be working on similar beneficial lines in the life beyond.

The next one to come was a young friend named Gertie. In her natural, impulsive way, she asked me twice if I had seen her. There was an etherealised firm which came towards me from the cabinet; but I did not recognise that to be her. That same day, before leaving for the meeting, I put her photograph and lock of hair, which had been in my possession since her death, in my pocket book.

I asked her what I had of hers in my pocket. She immediately answered; “My picture and the lock of my hair”; then made pathetic references to our attachment and other matters which she alone could speak about, and with “adieu” left.

Dr. Sharp came with some friendly counsel and said; “There is no love like the first love.” Although not prepared to accept all he said, I was much struck by the aptness of his remarks. Gertie was a young girl of sixteen and a-half, when she passed over, twelve years ago. As young people we were much attached to each other. This was the first time she had been able to manifest by the direct voice which was itself clearly identifiable.

Wednesday, July 9, 1913, at 8 p.m. This was an excellent evening. I heard a voice saying “Booth, Booth,” and was surprised to learn it was General Booth, who delivered a characteristic address. Another and different voice shouted: “Joun King, God bless you.” I do not know him. Dr. Sharp said: “Mr. Reid, have you a sister in the spirit world?” I replied I had not. He said; “Here is one who says she is your sister, at any rate.” Dr. Sharp said to her: “He has no sister.” The voice answered: “I’m his sweetheart.” “Why did you say you are his sister?” “Because I thought I would not get in.” This produced a laugh. I said: “Come away, Gertie; glad to hear you again.” The voice came laughing, just as she would do when in a merry mood in life, and said “she did this to get in.” She then reminded me she really was my sister, as I had acted a brothers part to her family and to herself: “So it is all right after all,” once more with a laugh. She talked of things private to ourselves, greeted my wife, and concluded by giving me directions what to do with her picture and lock of hair. Dr. Sharp came with a laugh, saying: “I got diddled that time.”

This sitting was most evidential, knowing as I did the complete ignorance of Mrs. Wriedt of the names, voices, and mannerisms of my personal friends.

Thursday, July 10, at 2 p.m. At this I was present with my mother-in-law Mrs. Wyllie. Although neither received personal evidence, we were both deeply interested in what was given to others. This was Mrs. Wyllie’s first experience. Archdeacon Colley manifested to Mr. and Mrs. Coates; Mr. Edward Wyllie, at one time a psychic photographer, had a conversation with his brother-in-law, Canon Dawson, and with Mrs. Wriedt the medium and Mr. and Mrs Coates. At the evening sitting Mrs. Wyllie got some interesting personal particulars, which I have not yet received and have no authority to furnish you.

Sunday, July 13, 8 p.m. This, too, was a most interesting meeting, full of startling incidents and personal evidence to those present. Mrs. Wriedt described a dark person wearing a jewelled turban and yellow robes. Immediately a voice with a foreign accent said, “Raja, Raja,” and then “Wood-Sims” “(Mrs. Wood-Sims is a friend of ours, and her chief control is a Hindu called “Rajah”). I asked the voice: “Are you Rajah?” The answer, “Yes, yes!” came with eagerness, followed with an address in what purported to be Hindustani. We could make nothing of it. We had, however,

sufficient in broken English to understand who it was. I promised the speaker to let Mrs. Wood-Sims know that he had come.

Mrs. Wriedt said: “I see the name ‘Tetlow’; does anyone recognise that?” No one answering, I said: “I suppose you mean ‘Tetley’?” She said that was correct. It appears she gets the name presented in mirror fashion reversed, and the first part disappears before the whole is completed. While I awaited further particulars Mrs. Wriedt asked if anyone recognised the name of “Pearson.” As no one responded, I said: “I know that name.” Later on a voice said to me: “I am Mr. Tetley……I wish to thank you for your kindness in the past to my family.” Mr. Tetley, who was the father of Gertie, died abroad about two years before her. This was the first time he manifested by the direct voice. After reference to his family, and again thanking me, he left. Another voice greeted me, saying; “I am Pearson.” I asked: “Are you Mrs. Wyllie’s brother?” “Yes.” (I did not know his Christian name. There were four brothers in spirit life and two in the body.) The voice assured me he was “James Pearson.” I asked him had he any message for those at home. He said: “Give them my best respects.” Not much this, but I sent it to Mrs. Wyllie. In her reply, dated July 17 (22 Clarendon Street, Glasgow), she says; “My dear son-in-law,—Thanks for the little bit you put in……It is, in my view, very conclusive proof. My brother James always sent his best respects to everyone. The last time he was in Glasgow ‘A’ refused to speak to him, but Jim said: ‘Never mind; we’ll likely meet in heaven.’ And in this station he said: ‘Be sure and give ‘A’ my best respects.’ I am glad that he came, for he was kind to me from childhood. I am also glad that Annie (Mrs. Reid) saw the wonderful sight she tells me of. Be sure to keep note of them all, so that I may be told everything……”

Sunday, July 20, at 8 p.m. On this evening there were many striking manifestations. My young friend Gertie came again. As she was a fine singer on earth, I asked her if she would sing to me one of her songs. She said she would sing one of her Scotch songs (Gertie was English), and offered to sing me ‘Annie Laurie.” She wanted me to sing with her. I could not manage this; but Mrs. Coates, who sat next to me, sang with her. Gertie sang sweetly. It was a very affecting manifestation. Just as the séance was about to close, my father broke in, and said he wanted to speak to “his boy” (he always spoke of me as “his boy” or “my boy”), and in his hearty greeting referred to matters specially apropos to my life and himself.

Wednesday, July 23. My father came again, and for the first time mother spoke to me by the direct voice. My mother had often come to me through the mediumship of Mrs. Coates. Mrs. Wriedt was ignorant of this. Mother spoke to me, among other things, about my brother, who is in the United States, and gave me what I believe was suitable advice. I fully understood and appreciated all she said.

If I had detailed all that had taken place, my narrative might be more interesting—or wearisome. The evidence to me was most convincing. My father’s voice (his Perthshire English), my mother’s “braid Scots” and affectionate impulsiveness, Gertie’s winning manner and convincing statements, were to me most valuable; more so than the etherealisations, though the latter were remarkable. As evidence for survival in some unseen state, these direct-voice messages are priceless.

Mr. Coates notes :—

“It would be impossible to give one tithe of what took place in the Rothesay séance room during the forty odd séances held with Mrs. Wriedt there. While I have to suppress some very telling evidence, as the relation of them would give pain to the living, I venture to supply in this and other cases striking evidence of spirit persistence in manifestation. I have sat in a few séances in my time, but seldom came across a case where the sitters—honest, sincere souls—failed so often to grasp what was said, and the determination of the spirit friends to give the facts was more apparent. The visitors were Mr. and Mrs. Raw and their son, Mr. John Edwin Raw , of 14 Car Hall Road, Nelson. In a conversation I had with Mr. Raw subsequently to the séances, he said: ‘I was puzzled, and didn’t know what to say, and, being a little deaf, I didn’t catch what was said; but I am now satisfied the whole thing is too wonderful for words.’

“Now for the account. Mr. J. E. Raw—who, by the by, did not give me his Christian name or those of his parents—wrote intimating that his father, mother, and he would like to visit Rothesay on their holiday, and have a sitting with Mrs. Wriedt, if possible. Being satisfied with their bonâ-fides, I agreed, but warned them it was a great risk to come so far for one sitting.”

Mr. J. E. Raw says :—

The testimony of Mr. J. E. Raw

These séances (held July 12 and 13, at 2 p.m.) were conducted in such informal manner, with every facility for inspection of appointments, as to give assurance that their object was the dissemination of knowledge and experience of psychic phenomena. Both séances were crowded with incident, practically everyone present receiving verbal communication from arisen relatives and friends; while beautiful spirit-lights floating round at intervals denoted the highly spiritual conditions prevailing, culminating in the etherealisation of a beautiful form (a guide) enveloped in a golden halo.

The clear, concise, and pertinent remarks of the principal manifesting spirit, Dr. Sharp, were a source of much interest, his loud voice proving a thorough knowledge of what was to us a hitherto unfamiliar power, and in striking contrast to the laborious efforts of other spirits. He afforded a splendid test by instantly rapping the trumpet upon father’s hand when requested to do so—a suggestive action in a dark room where it was impossible to see one’s neighbours.

Our personal visitants were quite unexpected, though both gave convincing evidence of their identity.

(Mr. J. E. Raw gives a correct summary of their experiences; but to illustrate the point of spirit persistence forcing recognition of identity, in spite of difficulties in apprehension, I fall back upon my own notes to give a more detailed account.) Mr. Raw concludes with: “It is very fitting that by affording so generously such exceptional facilities for the demonstration of psychic phenomena your efforts should result in the comprehensive and conclusive manner they have done, as attested by a wide and rapidly extending circle of adherents, all so fortunate in making acquaintance with Mrs. Wriedt and her wonderful gifts. My mother, Mrs. Eva Raw,

and my father, Mr. George Raw, join me in good wishes and appreciation of the good work in which you are engaged……Although our Christian names were unknown to you, the spirit friends who addressed us gave correctly their own and our names……

J. E. Raw.”

Mr. Coates continues :—

As to the more detailed account of what took place, it is to be noticed that none of the “voices” were from persons expected. In addition to what has already been given, that which follows is most evidential. Again and again this has occurred in these séances. Now, to illustrate what I mean. The first voice which came was not grasped by Mr. Raw, senior, and it was only by repeated urging we could get him to speak. The spirit voice was wasting energy trying to give its name; “Heckle,” “Sexton,” were understood to be given. When they were suggested the “voice” declined them with a weary “No, no, no.” “After other attempts, the spirit voice said: “Are you deaf? I am William.” “What William?” “Your brother.” “I had no brother, no brother William.” After considerable effort and persistence the voice gave the name of William Theckston, Mr. Raw’s brother-in-law, following the name by many statements of a private nature and intimate application to prove the identity beyond doubt. “So, it’s William!” joyfully exclaimed Mrs. Raw. It was remarkable the way the voice rejected all help, would have none of the names suggested, and never stopped till recognition was obtained. I could give interesting addresses, and, indeed, more readable matter; but to my mind “William Theckston”—in spirit—addressing “George” in the flesh as “brother” was evidence of the most valuable kind.

Another voice addressed Mrs. Raw shortly after the foregoing. It seemed a difficult matter to make out what it said at first. Mrs. Raw, although she could make nothing of it and denied all knowledge of knowing a man who used to come about her father’s place, was readier in her address, and encouraged the voice to speak. Failing to get the name, she invited the spirit to tell her something which she would know him by. It was evidently the voice of a man—an Irishman we thought—whose attempts to give his name sounded like ”Macguire.” The voice: “Dae ye remember the place where ye was a little girl?—Dae ye mind the man that had the horses?—Dae ye mind the bay wan?” Mrs. Raw did remember where she lived as a girl. It was somewhat like as described by the voice. Of course there were horses, and a gate by the road-side, but she could not place this man. “Well,” said the voice, ”Dae ye mind me puttin’ ye on the bay horse, an’ teachin’ ye to ride?” “Yes.” “Well I’m the man, Dae ye forget the about the penny I gave you?” “No.” “That’s good. I believe it was the first penny ye ever got in your life. Now, do you remember me?” “Yes,” said Mrs. Raw delighted, “I do,” at which the voice laughed. Then the story came out bit by bit, and this old-time neighbour Swire, not Macguire, established his identity by the human touch of reminding her that her father never got paid for the horse he took away. As Mr. J. E. Raw puts it: “These trifling though distinctive details and characteristics were synonymous with the old-time neighbour and horsedealer named ‘Swire,’ and to us convincing proof of the genuineness of the phenomena witnessed at Mrs. Wriedt’s séances.

This gentleman is a pharmaceutical chemist, doing business at 96 Craven Park Road, Harlesden, London, N. W. I have selected his case owing to the evidential factors, and to the persistence of his late wife in proving her identity. Another reason for my

choice is, that he was a stranger who appealed to me. He attended three sittings on July 13 and 14. Neither Mrs. Wriedt nor anyone in the circles knew his name. Even if they did, that would not account for the following revelations :—

The Testimony of J. C. Berry, M.P.S.

Harlesden, August 16, 1913.

Dear Mr. Coates,

I was very much impressed from the first by the brightness and cheerfulness of all the friends gathered together, as well as by the spiritual atmosphere. One felt quite at home from the beginning. At the first meeting (July 13, 2 p.m.), when we had been sitting a little while, a voice came near to me calling “John, John!” But, although I spoke, I could get no reply. There was another voice speaking at the other end of the room. A little later the voice came again with “John, John!” I said, “Who are you?” The answer was not clear, but in what followed I knew who it was. The voice: “Yes; have you come all this long way from London to see me?”—“Yes, dear.” The voice: “Forgive me, John, for being so irritable with you; I could not help it, the pain was so great.” I told her not to worry, as I quite understood. She said she was quite happy now. I told her I had been wearying to speak to her, and she said, “I did not think I could use the horn.” In conversation, she said she came morning and evening to our home and kissed the children. I do not give all we talked about. After my wife had gone, Dr. Sharp said to us: “This manifestation was an example of what a person could do who was less than six months passed over.” (Quite true, J.B.) So determined was she to get in touch with her husband and children that she was able to speak without the use of the horn. Her voice was quite clear.

In the evening sitting, 8 p.m., my wife came again saying, “John, John! I have come back again. My throat is better now. I have no tube in my mouth.” I asked her if she knew what was wrong, and she said: “Yes, dear, I knew it for months, but did not wish to worry you by telling you.” (I did not know she knew, but she did and kept it to herself; this was fully in keeping with her disposition.) I was upset when she asked me: “Why were our days together so short? What harm had I done that I should be taken away so early? I tried to do my best……” I sympathised as best I could. I really did not know what to say. I suppose she had taken on something of the earth conditions.

I decided at the next sitting, if the voice called I would test it. A was perfectly satisfied, but my friends would be sceptical. At the third sitting, July 14, 8 p.m., when the voice called “John, John!” I said, “Who are you?” The voice said ”Oh I am Katie.” As before, the name was not very clear. One man said it was Lizzie, and asked if she was for him. The voice: “No; I want my husband John Berry.” This was said clearly and emphatically. That there might be no mistake about for whom the voice came, it gave me certain directions about my children, the articles I was to keep for them, and so on. The voice told me she (the mother) “Had been up at grandma’s (where I had taken them) seeing the little ones, and they were very happy.” I was told not to worry about the past, as everything had been done for her that could be thought of. In bidding me “Good-bye” she said she was coming home with me, and would try and speak to me in Harlesden.

What took place in the séance-room was beyond all possible anticipation. I was not the only one who obtained messages by direct voice. But to me the most wonderful thing was the foregoing. No one in that room—not even you—knew anything about my wife, children, or myself. None knew my wife died of cancer; that she had a tube in her throat. Yet here all was given, and that by the only person who could tell it— my wife. What is the benefit of all this? It has brought home to me, more than anything else, the fact that THERE IS NO DEATH ; that the passing out is only to a life more abundant. I realise more than ever my duties to my neighbours, and will seek to live more in harmony with all.

I am, etc.,                                            John C. Berry. Do Animals Survive Death?

Mr. Coates adds:— I would like to follow up the testimony of Mr. John C. Berry, with a incident which occurred at his last sitting. I offer no explanation, merely recording what took place, and that because of the evidence it presents of supernormal knowledge manifested. Mrs. Wriedt suddenly said, “O dear me; I do believe I see a dog.” From the description I concluded it was a fox terrier. Further, ”It is running about the room. It is frisking about and jumping on you sir” (Mr. Berry). Presently we all heard repeated several times a terrier’s yelp. Leaving aside Dr. Sharp’s explanation about the “animal kingdom” in the spirit world and the survival of dogs etc., the facts are as stated. Dr. Sharp told the chemist this was one of the many dogs that had been put to death in the discharge of his many duties. Mr. Berry admitted that Dr. Sharp was correct. Dogs had to be destroyed for many reasons; but he, however, would never undertake anything in that way, leaving the matter to the authorities and the lethal chamber. Whether animals survive in the Other World Order or not, I do not know; but, as a matter of evidence, no one in that room knew Mr. Berry was a chemist until after the dog yelped and Mr. Berry made his explanation.

Mr. Wright holds a responsible position in railway affairs, and has had valuable evidence through Mrs. Wriedt’s phenomenal mediumship. I asked him for the report of his manifestations of a niece at the Rothesay circle. I now give his report without curtailment. To hear that sweet, pleasant, and naturally unaffected Irish voice was a treat. The facts, however, are of greater importance.—J. C.

The testimony of Mr. David Wright

16 Mannering Road, Shawlands, Glasgow. September 10, 1913.

Dear Mr. Coates,

I am in receipt of your letter of ^8th inst., and have much pleasure in complying with your request for a short report for publication in Admiral Moore’s book of the séances held in your house, in so far as they affect myself or family. Admiral Moore, who was present at our third séance, was much impressed; and, indeed, the sitters were moved almost to tears during the time my wife’s niece, Mary Ellen Gibson (a bright and lovely Irish girl of eighteen years who passed to the higher life two years ago), spoke to her aunt through the trumpet. This happy spirit spoke at all the sittings we attended, and I cannot do better than confine myself to a résumé of the conversations we had

with her. I was not present at the séance on Saturday afternoon, July 19, having made way for my son, who was anxious to be present, and I append his report.

At the sitting on the evening of the same day my wife and I were present, and the meeting had not been in progress for more than ten minutes when a voice, addressing Mrs. Wright, said: “Auntie, it’s me, Mary Ellen.”

We gave no thought to grammatical exactitudes; the significance of the name “Ellen” meant very much to us. At the first séance the name was given formally as “Mary Gibson”; but now, when speaking directly to her aunt, she used the full Christian names “Mary Ellen.”

To those acquainted with the people of the rural districts of County Down the importance attached to the full name will be appreciated.

“I am Mary Ellen auntie.” Mrs. Wright speaking: “Well, Mary, what can you tell me now?” A.: “Not much, auntie; but I am glad to speak to you.” Q.: “You have got your little niece over beside you now, Mary.” A.: “Yes, little Lala is here: but she can’t talk much to me yet, she is such a child. I was sorry that she had to come.” Q.: “Mary, were you with me at my home crying, the night before I got the telegram stating she had passed away?” A.: “I was indeed!” Q.: ” Mary, your uncle is here; would you like to speak to him?” A.: “Sure, I would; how are ye uncle?” Q.: “Very well, Mary dear; how are you?” A.: “Oh, I am all right, uncle, and happy.” Q.: “Do you remember the happy time we had in Ireland three years ago, Mary?” A.: “Deed, I do. Oh, we had a fine time, playing and singing.” (She was passionately fond of music.) Q.: “You are much missed at home, Mary.” A.: “Well, I’m sure I can’t help it. My poor father and mother! Tell them it won’t be long till I see them again. Good-bye, auntie and uncle; a great many are waiting to speak to their friends. I will come back again. Good-bye. Love and kisses to everybody.” Kisses through the trumpet, and she had gone.

At the third séance Mary again addressed my wife, saying: “I am here, auntie.” “Yes Mary, how are you?” (How bald and inconsequent it seems when put upon paper; but words cannot portray the deep feelings aroused by the voices from the other side, and it must be acknowledged that difficulty is ofttimes experienced in carrying out a conversation. One has so much one could say or ask; but when reviewed the communion is found to be very commonplace indeed.)

Mrs. Wright continued: “Mary, I want you to do something for me.” “I will if I can,” was the answer. “You remember how you used to play and sing, and your uncle played the violin? Well dear, try and sing to me the song you sang then.” After a short pause Mary replied: “I cannot just remember it; I sang so many songs.” “The song about the soldier,” Mrs. Wright said.

The spirit made several attempts to sing, but unsuccessfully, and I asked Mrs. Stevenson (one of the sitters) if she would kindly begin the song, “I like a Soldier fell”; she did so, and Mary joined in and sang the first verse in a sprightly fashion. She continued, addressing myself: “I liked that song, it was lovely; then there was another about ‘the sea,’” and she sang in a sad and mourneful way something about the sea which we could not quite follow.

Again she spoke: “I am very happy, uncle, and we shall all meet again. Good-bye, good-bye: don’t forget to tell mother.

At the fourth sitting Mary came again with the usual salutation: “It’s me auntie; I see uncle is here too. Uncle, do you remember I sang to you about your grey hairs?” I replied: “Yes, Mary; could you sing it to me again?” and she began at once and sang the first verse of the old song, “Darling I am growing old, silver threads among the gold.”

Turning in the direction of my wife, the voice said: “Isn’t it lovely, auntie?” “Yes Mary; is there any message you wish to send to your mother, so that she would really know you had been speaking to me?” She seemed to pause a little, and then said: “Tell mother I was awfully pleased the way she laid me out.” My wife could not understand this, and said: “In what way, Mary?” “When I died,” was the answer, “everyone was so kind; I was covered with beautiful flowers.” “Yes,” I said “all the people in the village were very sad when you were taken away.” “Yes, indeed, uncle, I knew everyone loved Mary Ellen. Now I’ll have to go. Good-bye, auntie and uncle dear, and give them all my best love and kisses”; and then she sang the following extemporised couplet:

Good-bye, ladies all, I am going away; Good-bye, ladies all, I can no longer stay”;

And many kisses through the trumpet, with the parting words “to everyone.” I may add that at a later séance (July 24), in the house of Mr. William Jeffrey, India Street, Glasgow, Mary again manifested, and spoke of incidents unknown to anyone save ourselves.

Yours sincerely                                                David Wright. Statement of Mr. David Wright, Jnr., in

Confirmation of the foregoing

Accompanied by my mother, I attended the séance held on Saturday afternoon, July 19. After the opening prayer all present sang the hymn “Nearer, my God, to Thee,” and at the last verse we were joined by a loud voice, recognised by some of the sitters as Dr. Sharp. After wishing us a good afternoon, and giving some advice regarding the conduct of the sitting, the Doctor, with whose strong, masculine voice I was much impressed, left us. Another hymn was sung, after which there was a short silence. Suddenly I heard a voice saying: “Mary Gibson, Mary Gibson.” This is the name of a cousin who passed away in County Down, Ireland, two years ago, and to whom we were all very much attached. The suddenness of her presence seemed to strike us dumb, and we allowed the name to be repeated several times without acknowledging it. Mrs. Wriedt broke in with: “There is a young girl here named Mary Gibson, who is asking for her aunt. Does anyone know the spirit?” My mother said: “Oh, yes, I know Mary Gibson.” Immediately the trumpet seemed to swing right round to where we were sitting, and the voice cried: “Auntie! Auntie!” “Yes, Mary, I’m here!” “Oh, Auntie, How pleased I am to be able to come and speak to you!” The spirit conversed with us for a few minutes, and then departed with the assurance she would come back at the evening sitting. In the evening she gave her uncle and aunt some very good proofs, to which I can add my testimony. In earth life she had such an endearing insinuating Irish way with her, she was always first in anything she undertook, and

this characteristic she still appears to retain in spirit life, viewed by her prominence at all the séances.      David Wright, Jnr.

It would be wholly impossible to touch on all the incidents which took place during the course of these séances; but I thought it well that some statements should be made about them by others rather than myself. Mr. William Jeffrey had a friend—a journalist—who knew nothing of spiritualism, and asked permission to bring him. Knowing the journalist, I consented on the following conditions: first, that nothing should be communicated to the press; and, second, that he was to give me an unbiassed report of any manifestations which had a personal interest to himself. Mr. Gavin Fleming (referred to by Admiral Moore in his report as “Mr. F.,” and by Iola as “the Newspaper man”) agreed, and was admitted.

J. C.

The Testimony of Mr. Gavin Fleming

Bute Mansions, Rothesay, August 15, 1913.

Dear Mr. Coates,

The following is a brief account of the séances which I attended with Mr. Jeffrey on the evening of Tuesday, July 22 :—

At the outset I should remark that the subject of spiritualism has previously been often discussed between Mr. Jeffrey and myself, and for some time I had a strong desire to attend a séance. I attended the séance with a perfectly open mind, and I am certain that this accounts for the experience which befell me, and which was remarkable in the extreme.

It will perhaps add to the clarity of my narrative if, at the outset, I confine myself simply to my own personal communications. The séance had not been long in progress when a remarkably clear voice was heard, saying: “Fleming, Fleming.” No one recognised it. Mr. Jeffrey, who was sitting beside me, suggested that it might be that of my father (who passed out about eleven years ago), and that I should address it. This I did, with some qualms, for it must be kept in mind that this was my first séance. I asked: “Who are you friend?” The answer came: “I am your father, Fleming.” I was urged to converse, and I asked: “Is my mother with you and Jimmy” (my son, who passed over eight years ago); and he replied: “Yes, we are all here together.” He then asked: “How is Jeanie?” (My daughter): and, in the course of further conversation, said: “I am always with you.” Shortly afterwards a boyish voice said, two or three times, “Pa,” very clearly. It was suggested that this boy’s voice was for me. I said that my boy never called me “Pa” on earth: but Dr. Sharp explained that he had picked up this expression from other children in the spirit world. He evidently heard me, for he addressed me afterwards as “Father.” Rather oddly, one of his first questions was, “How is Jeanie?” Just as my father asked. He afterwards said, “How is mother?” and followed with asking, “Why is she not here?” On my answering him, he said, “Tell her I was here: tell her I love her,” and ended up with three kisses, heard most distinctly. During the course of the séance a spirit form was clearly seen by all present on the right hand side of the cabinet. To my sense it appeared to be full length: others commented on its height. Subsequently Mrs. Wriedt said, when the spirit form returned: “Mr. Fleming’s sister.” I said I had no sister. Mrs. Wriedt could not get

away from the impression, and then I recollected being told that a baby sister died before I was born. I was asked how long ago that was, and said it must have been over forty-five years ago. A spirit voice who had been talking to Admiral Moore, whom I was told was Iola, said: “Tell the newspaper man that was his sister who was showing herself to him, and that she is taking care of his son.” Dr. Sharp, who speaks with a loud, clear voice, said there was development on the other side, in consequence of which she was now a spirit woman, and teacher of spirit children: also that when my boy passed over she had met him. This concludes all that refers to communications between myself and departed relatives at this séance.

The spirit, Dr. Sharp, was much in evidence during the evening, and honoured me with a considerable amount of attention. I was doing my best in the darkness to take a few shorthand notes, and he saluted me as the “man with the papers round about him,” and said there were schools in the spirit-world where they taught children. Speaking on the general subject of spiritualism, the Doctor said that it was “the first religion on earth; it was recognised by the Apostles, taught by Jesus Christ, and would last to all eternity.” On the question of séances being conducted in darkness Dr. Sharp spoke as follows: “Everything that grows on the face of the earth comes out of the darkness, and everything that is good comes out of the darkness. There is not a thing on the face of the earth that has not been developed out of the dark. Nothing grows in the sun, whatever it may be; it grows at night. You hear people say that the dew falls. It does not fall, it rises; and the leaves of the trees are wet from the bottom. The moisture from the mother earth nurses the flowers at night.” Addressing me, he said: “You can report that if you like, Mr. Journalist; it is for the benefit of those who ask why these sittings are held in the dark.” Near the close of the séance the Doctor thanked Mr. Auld for the comfort he had in the room. Then suddenly he said: “Poor Mr. Stead, he is doing his work in Turkey, fighting like all the rest of them. He said the Turks will get back their place, and they will get it.” (Certainly, since above was given, to the surprise of the Embassies of the great powers, the Turks have baffled their enemies in Thrace, the diplomacy of Europe, and are once more in possession of Adrianople.—J. C.)

I am afraid my notes of the séance are rather long. I cannot, however, close without giving a portion of the conversation between Mr. Jeffrey and (the spirit of) his wife, as I was brought into it. At a sitting earlier in the day Mr. Jeffrey had (the spirit of) a Mr. Campbell address him, who used to keep a tobacconist’s shop in Rothesay, but with whom Mr. Jeffrey was unacquainted. At the evening sitting he mentioned this to Mr. Jeffrey, whereupon she said right off: “Well dear, if you did not know him, Mr. Fleming did.” “Yes, Mrs. Jeffrey,” I replied, “I knew him well; he was Tarry Campbell’s father.” “Yes,” said she laughing; “he was Tarry Campbell’s father.” This, I may mention, was a nickname we had at school for young Campbell. I may add that, While the voices of my father and my son were quite recognisable, that of Mrs. Jeffrey was absolutely life-like, and my short conversation with her was in some respects the most remarkable of my experiences at the sitting. I am, etc., Gavin Fleming.

August 15, 1913.

An Instance of Spirit Persistence

Mr. William B——, a gentleman of Norse ancestors, came from the north of Aberdeen. He was a stranger to me, but, being duly vouched for, joined us in our sittings at Rothesay, July 13, 14, and 15, 1913. As the case was a remarkable one, I have selected it for “The Voices” without further comment than this. I have permission to do so, withholding correct name and address; but these can be furnished to any of your readers entitled to know.— James Coates.

I cannot give every detail of what occurred in these séances, but will give some instances indicating the difficulties of spirit communion and the efforts of the departed to make their presence known. Mr. B—— struck me as a man deeply in earnest, sterlingly honest; the reverse of credulous, and, I thought, slow in thought. This was due to his caution and the desire for accuracy. He was deeply interested in all he heard and saw, and was impressed with the fact—during his first séance—that others were receiving convincing evidence. When he was addressed by someone over the psychophone, he either did not hear, or did not understand, what was said, or reply with promptness. Sometimes names are difficult to give, or the meaning of the statements were not caught at the time. So there was uphill work on both sides. When I spoke to him, after the first sitting, he said: “It is all so new and strange; I don’t know what to make of it.” The intelligences interested in him were so patient and determined that they actually forced their identity upon him. It is remarkable what efforts are made by these spirit-people to get at those who are sincere on the earth­plane. Inability to understand or grasp what is presented is not so difficult to overcome as stupid scepticism.

Mrs. Wriedt said: “I see a man who has been injured on the head by the kick of a horse.” To Mr. B——: “He is for you. Do you know him?” “No,” said this gentleman: “I am not sure.” The psychic gave a further description of the place and the circumstances, and then said: “The name is James; do you know one like that?” “No.” (He knew a person of the name, but was not sure it was the same.) Without going into further details, Mrs. Wriedt said: “I guess he’s for you.”

Singing was suggested, and “Annie Laurie” was sung with right goodwill; with the singing there was a fine cornet accompaniment by some invisible player. Dr. Sharp was thanked for this manifestation. After some voices had spoken and been recognised, Dr. Sharp addressed this gentleman and said; “There is someone here who says that he passed out of your mother’s family three years ago—an old man of the name of Robert. Do you know him?” “No; there was no one of that name.” This was said reflectively. Afterwards Mr. B—— wrote; “My guide, who claims to be an old minister, bore the name of Robert.” So far there was not much progress. Again a voice addressed him, but he did not catch the name. One sitter after another tried to help him, but without much success.

The voice plaintively; “Dae ye no hear me?” “No; I can’t make out what you say.” Was the response. “Oh, dear, I’m Harrie.” This was managed after Dr. Sharp made it clear there was a lady here of the name of Harrie.” And a man named “John.” Our friend acknowledged he had a brother of that name, but he was not sure that it was he who spoke, saying: “I do not recognise the voice.”

Dr. Sharp explained, if the friends were not so timid and gave time, the voices would become clearer. “You must mind that this woman is not speaking with the aid of her

own bodily organs. We have to draw from the sitters and materialise a thorax with vocal chords, which the friends, by our aid, use. It is not, ‘Do you recognise the voice,’ but, ‘Do you recognise what the voice says ?’” “Yes,” he admitted, he did recognise the names and what was said. He appeared fearful to be drawn, and certainly did not take up what was said. He was evidently waiting for more detail before he was satisfied. Who shall blame him? One, however, can be too cautious.

Dr. Sharp, in his loudest and cheeriest tones, delivered a lecture on spiritualism, “as the oldest religion in the world,” and announced they were going to build a spiritual temple in Glasgow. He wanted money to buy bricks, etc. As a psychophone message it had the advantage over the telephone; not only all in the room heard it, but, if there was anyone in the avenue outside, they might have heard it too.

A voice in a low key, but clear enough to be heard, said: “How are you, Willy?” “It is for you,” I said as Mr. B—— was a little slow in responding. “Who are you?” he asked. After some trials “Harrie” was given. “Yes,” he replied. Then came forward some family details about an “Alec.” “What Alec?” “Your nephew Alec” was the clear and definite response. “Well, I had a nephew Alec, but have not seen him for a long time.” (I never met one slower to make admissions. This was not done deliberately, but arising from not being fully satisfied.)

On Sunday, July 13, our friend’s wife tried to manifest, but did not give enough to be recognised. In speaking to him she referred to the changes since she left; to certain people, and how the world had gone with him. All true enough, but he wanted more. Yet no one in that room could have told him what this voice had done. The medium knew nothing of himself nor of his family. Yet “the voice,” claiming to be that of his wife, evidently did know; but he was not satisfied. He told me he wanted to be sure, as he had heard of evil and personating spirits. He was not sure; it might not be she. This conversation took place after the séance was over. I told him to leave all these ideas outside the séance-room door. When addressed by a voice, to respond and encourage speaking; the more he spoke and the more kindly, the better. Instead of harping at “What’s your name?” or “I don’t know you,” keep talking, as to a friend. Hear the tale, and two things will follow——you will get the name all right, or the person whom you say you do not know will be able to tell you of someone whom you both know, and thus establish the identity. As to evil spirits, why prejudice those who come to you and hinder their utterance by that attitude of mind? You are a good, straightforward man. It is time enough to think of evil spirits when they invite you to do evil or bring evil to your door. The man was honest; he had the training and the experience of a lifetime behind him. These manifestations were new and wholly outside his experience. He said he would take my way of it, and speak more freely to “the voices.”

On Monday (July 14), at 11 a.m.., Several things came out, and one was that “dourness in th’ uptak was maistly on his ain side,” and on the other, that love and patience of the spirit friends brought recognition. He learned that he had been in error in rejecting on the previous day the voice claiming to be that of his wife, who did not say she lived with him thirty years. The voice: “Harrie; my name is Harrie. Yes, Willy. I did not say I lived with you for thirty years. You thought that. It is thirty years since we lived together.” This was correct. “We were so happy together; we had a pleasant time then, only it was so short.” Then the man and the woman exchanged thoughts across the borderland. Home and family were talked about; how her husband

had changed in thirty years. He had learned, too, about a brother who had been away; and so the story went on.

“Alec is here; yes, your nephew Alec.” A.: “I know.” “He will speak for himself.” Someone else comes and cries, “Uncle William.” Q.: “Who are you?” A.: “Uncle John is here. It was he who told me you were here; how is aunty?……Father is here. ……We’re all here. Good-bye……;” and so the identity was established.

Touching on some of the perplexities of spirit communion. The spirit of John spoken of, and who manifested in an earlier sitting, intimated, “I see Ellen every day.” Mr. B. did not think this was correct, as “the only Ellen in our family is still with us.” There should be little difficulty in this. It might mean that the uncle in spirit was seeing his niece Ellen in the body every day, just as he was seeing his brother William every day. This brother in spirit had a daughter Elinor, who predeceased him, and might have been the one spoken about. But it appeared to me that it was Ellen in the body, and at home, who was spoken about. If it was Elinor, the name Ellen was a fair attempt to give that name. It was someone on the connection of that name that this spirit was referring to; whether daughter or niece, there could be no mistaking the reference.

Shortly after the foregoing an etherealised form appears and moves toward us. I was sitting near this gentleman, taking notes. There was no mistaking the female form. The voice of his wife coming clearer out of the darkness, as if gaining greater power and confidence, said: “Do you see me Willy? I am trying to show myself.” “Yes: I see you, but I cannot very well make you out.” The etherealised form became more defined, and we saw the figure of a medium-sized woman with a child in her arms. How wonderful the patience of the spirit people! The identity was established. The little one in the arms of that luminous figure signified the cause of his wife’s passing out.

Dr. Sharp who had explained matters more than once, said: “Your great-grandmother cannot come to you, she has gone to another plane; but this little woman comes; she has followed you for years……She is earth-bound.” I interposed with an objection; when it was explained, “She is earth-bound; bound to earth by those she loves, and she is always with you. She brought you here, and tells me that she is helping to care for one in your house—smoothing her way till her body returns to our mother earth. You know that there is one at home who needs care? This dear woman, who loves you, has told me to tell you this—your wife, Harrie. Do you understand?” “Yes I understand,” was the quiet answer of one thankful for the convincing manifestations. There in that room—out of the thick darkness—came a voice claiming to be that of his wife, telling him of things which he alone knew; in that room appeared a slightly luminous female with a child in its arms, claimed by the “voice” to be that of herself. Striking evidence; valuable persistence. Not less valuable were Dr. Sharp’s cogent commentary to the effect that his wife and the spirit friends were like Christian Endeavour workers. They were healing the sick, comforting the mourner, and bringing immortality to light. “When your wife has done her work she will go to the seventh sphere.” He concluded by sympathising with this man in his loneliness, his thoughts, sufferings, and private struggles. His wife was well and happy, but would be happier when she realised that she had got him to know that “Immortality and endless progress are true, and it is for you to know it; and she comes back to help you to understand. That is why you are here.”