Though it is my rule not to introduce trifling incidents which were constantly occurring to us in our domestic privacy, yet, finding them in my private papers of 1849, I will here insert the following two because it occurs to me that it may have had a significance intended as a lesson to me.
One evening, being for a wonder without callers, Maggie and I thought we would have a little fun at mother’s and Cathie’s expense. (Mother was very easily disturbed by any unusual manifestations.) It will be seen that, though we began it for our fun, the Spirits took it soon out of our hands and carried it out themselves in pretty strong earnest.[23]
Maggie went into the parlor bed-room, and I laid down on the sofa. She took a cane and I a shell from the table to rap with. I precautionally placed matches near me in case of need. She rapped once (with the cane) upon the ceiling, but before I could make any attempt at using my shell the house was in an uproar. The piano was violently sounded, the match-box rattled against the ceiling. I called to Maggie to know if it was she who was pounding the piano so violently. Mother cried out, “God have mercy on us!” She saw a very tall man—or the form of one—standing in the open doorway, and recognized him as her father. Mother was so frightened that she started up, and as she did so tore down the window-shade, which let in the light of a bright moon. I was unceremoniously seized upon and lifted through a circular aperture in the ceiling (large enough to admit four small pipes, leading from the parlor stove into a sheet-iron drum in the room above, in which Calvin slept). (See diagram on page [209].) I was there held suspended for several minutes by two iron hands (as they seemed to me), the one felt icy cold, and the other almost burning hot. Calvin, in bed in the room above, lay quietly listening to the uproar, but made no remark. I entreated him to come down to us, but he positively refused, saying, “No, you have raised the Devil, and must take the consequences.”
This uproar continued all night, and people gathered around the house to listen to it. We found, by experience, that nothing we could do in our attempt at a little fun played off on mother, would equal the performances of the Spirits at our expense.
The second of these private domestic incidents, designed perhaps for rebukes and lessons, was as follows:
To make this story understood, it will be necessary to describe the situation of the old homestead. The public road runs north and south; and both houses face eastward. The old house stands about two hundred yards from the road, surrounded by trees. Father’s house (which was being built at the time he was living in Hydesville) stands near the road, with ample yard room surrounding it. When turning into the lane, there is a slight descent until you reach a little bridge, called the “Tell-tale Bridge,” over a small stream, which in wet seasons runs through the vale; after which you gradually ascend until you reach the level on which the main buildings stand. It is called the Tell-tale Bridge because the hoofs and wheels always announce the approach of visitors.
It was Sunday evening. A party of David’s friends drove over from Newark to have a séance with the Spirits. It was decided that they should hold their meeting at mother’s, with the girls (Maggie and Katie). I remained at David’s, with Uncle John, Calvin, and the children—the youngest being a babe ten months old. My brother and his wife joined the party. Uncle John suggested that some refreshments would be acceptable and help to while away the time. By the time we got through supper it was near twelve o’clock, and the hired man came home belated. The servant girl was tired, and all save myself retired for the night. The baby fretted for its mother, and I walked the floor with him until he fell asleep. Still there were no signs of the adjournment of the party. I could hear the sounds distinctly, and concluded they had entirely forgotten to notice the time (it was then two o’clock). So I slipped on the hired man’s coat and hat and ran down, to learn if there were any intimations of the party breaking up. I did not wish to be observed. The night was lovely, and the moon shone brightly; and my only refuge of concealment was a few shocks of sweet corn left standing between the window and the fence. They could have seen me through the window if they had looked out from the sitting-room in which they were holding their séance. I procured a number of small stones and practised throwing very successfully, hitting the mark between the windows a little distance from them. Having thus acquired confidence in my aim, I threw one larger than the others, which went through the window crashing the glass into fragments. A general scream broke from all in the room. I ran down into the hollow near the bridge, and hid in the tall, wet grass, knowing well enough that mother would soon be out to explore the grounds. I heard her say, “I do not believe that a Spirit did it. I know it was some of those good-for-nothing, mean coon hunters; they have heard us, and they have done this to annoy us.” Then father said: “They have no business to throw stones through the windows. If that stone had hit any one, it might have proved a serious thing.”
I shuddered, and was thankful it was no worse. Mr. Codding said, “No, Mrs. Fox, I think you are mistaken. I heard several electric explosions just before it hit the window.” (Those were my smaller pebbles.) Father said, “Do you believe a Spirit threw that stone through the window? If it was a Spirit it was an evil one.”
By this time they were all out in the yard looking for the culprit, and not more than twenty feet from where I lay cowering in the long grass wet with dew. As soon as they all re-entered the house I ran for dear life, doffed my hat and coat, and jumped back into the bed with the baby. I had lain there but an instant when the most terrific rumbling explosion went through the house, shaking it to its foundations and waking every sleeper. I have never witnessed, before or since, such a manifestation. Uncle John rushed to my room, saying, “In heaven’s name, what has happened?” The parties from the other house came in and related what had happened there; but I was so shocked by the manifestation just made that I found no difficulty in suppressing my laughter. I had been well punished for my folly. I had not intended to carry the joke so far, and I prayed to be forgiven. I did not dare to confess. I knew it would not do at that time, as the public would have regarded us as impostors, and this as a specimen of our tricks. I suffered alone for my sin. I heard them discuss the matter frequently. One day, full fifteen years afterward, my brother was giving me his opinion, saying, “Leah, I do believe that was a mischievous Spirit that threw the stone and smashed father’s window.” I looked at him quizzically, and said, “Yes Dave, I believe it was too.”
He caught me by the hand and said, “You did it! you rogue. I know you did!”