These spectators were becoming more and more excited, and crowded into the cellar. Some called us crazy. They reached over the heads of the women and spat upon and dropped sticks and stones on those who were digging. We still stood firm in the defence of our friends, the laboring party; and they worked on until they struck what seemed to be a board. This sounded hollow, and its location was beneath the sand and gravel. They procured an augur and bored through the obstruction, when the augur dropped to the handle. They then obtained bits, and attached them to long sticks, and with them bored several inches, when the bit would drop to the depth of a foot or more. In this way they lost two of the bits, which dropped through and were not recovered. By this time the excitement was overwhelming. The cellar was filled with people. Some cried, “Drag out the women! drag them out!” Others said, “Don’t hurt the women, drag out the men!” The floor over our heads creaked with the weight of the multitude. It grew dark. Our friends could work no longer, and reluctantly retired. How we all reached the outside, amid the shouts and the roar of the excited crowd, I cannot explain; but at length we stood together in the door-yard, awaiting our conveyances, and no word of disrespect was spoken to any of us. The Spirits said: “Dear faithful friends, your work here is done. God will reward you.”
“Yes,” said that noble-looking man, Henry Bush, with the acquiescence of all, “our work is done.”
We all returned to David’s (the old homestead). That night and the following day our friends returned to Rochester. We remained a few days with our family.
I must pass over many interesting circumstances, or it will be wholly impossible to put our story in one volume: but I deem it due to my family that some facts should be stated in this history.
After the public parts we had been forced to perform at Hydesville, the news spread far and wide. The crowd of people came in wagons from every direction before the harvest had been gathered. Some drove through the gate, but others took down the fences, and drove through the grain fields, and peppermint beds, regardless of the destruction they were perpetrating. Against all this destruction of his property, David was defenceless. He saw and felt how utterly useless it was for him to attempt to remonstrate with such an element.
It was late in the afternoon when a tired horseman came galloping up the carriage road, to inform my brother that a party consisting of several wagon-loads were on their way to mob us. At this announcement we were much frightened, and knew not what to do. Intimations of such a design had reached us previously, and powder and shot had been provided for our defence. The boys and hired men had gathered piles of stones behind the house, and at first it was considered to be our wisest way to defend ourselves as best we could.
The sun was low and we dreaded the night coming on. What could we do? Mother called us all into the parlor bedroom, and there we knelt, with fear, and prayed to God for protection. The Spirits spelled out to us, “You will not be harmed. God will protect you.” We stood for a moment and counselled together. The package of powder flew from the top of the bureau and hit Cathie on the forehead, and that of the shot came and struck me on the shoulder. My brother took the guns and fired them off, and threw the powder and shot into the peppermint patch, saying, “I will not raise a hand against them. If God has sent this upon us, for the good of mankind, he is able to protect us. I will trust him.”
The windows were fastened down as best we could. The dog began to bark fearfully. We heard the distant shouts and snatches of songs, and knew they would soon be upon us. They drove up the road, into the yard, and one woman jumped through the window of the kitchen, hoops and all. She was in the kitchen before any of us knew they had entered the door-yard. David left us alone in the parlor, walked into the kitchen, and said to the woman, “If you had knocked I would have opened the door for you; it was not locked.” He then opened all the doors, walked out to the crowd, and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, walk in. You are welcome to search the house from garret to cellar, if you will do so respectfully.” One man, the leader of the crowd, exclaimed, in a manner of the utmost surprise: “My God! Dave Fox, is it you they have said so much about? No, we won’t come in now. We’ll go home and dress ourselves and come another time.”
Thus ended this mob against the Spiritualists, as all others subsequently have ended. The Spirits, therefore, fulfilled their promise and protected us from all harm.
I might fill many a page with the experiences of the family in that house at Hydesville, during the period of about three months and three weeks preceding that March 31, 1848, on which the neighbors were first called in. From the very first night of their taking possession of it, they were disturbed and puzzled with the strange knockings and other noises. They had gone into it only as a temporary home, while my father was building the new house on the homestead farm, and the carpenter had estimated a couple of months as sufficient time for his work. All sorts of natural theories were imagined as to the cause of the sounds, nor did they, for some time, think of Spirits or of anything supernatural, or even important. Father insisted, at one time, that they proceeded from a cobbler in the neighborhood, hammering leather, and working late in the night. Then it was “some boards that must be loose and shaken by the wind.” Then it appeared that “there must be dancing going on at Mr. Duesler’s, or some other house within hearing;” then “the house must be full of rats”—though mother declared she had never seen a rat in it. Again, when the knocks would break out suddenly, close to some of the family, or at the table, one of the girls would charge the other with having caused them, saying, “Now you did that,” etc., etc. Father had always been a regular Methodist, in good standing, and was invariable in his practice of morning prayers; and when he would be kneeling upon his chair, it would sometimes amuse the children to see him open wide his eyes, as knocks would sound and vibrate on his chair itself. He expressed it graphically to mother: “When I am done praying, that jigging stops.” My daughter Lizzie used to declare that when she was writing, there would sometimes come a strong ticking on the paper. One night loud screams were heard from the children, Maggie and Cathie, in bed. “O mother, come quick. Somebody has lain down across the bed.” They were often so frightened that mother would have to take them to lie on both sides of her in her bed, and sometimes they would go, one to father’s bed and the other to mother’s. But these frights were attributed to bad dreams. Indeed, it now seems strange that so little serious impression was made on their minds for so long a time by these strange things, so persistent, so varied, and so inexplicable, which they instinctively abstained from talking about to the neighbors.