The Missing Link in Modern Spiritualism

by A. Leah Underhill

Dear friend, E. W. Capron:

It is with some reluctance that I furnish you with the following statement. Not that I am afraid to tell the truth, but that the world, as I conceive, is not ready to receive such truths yet. Ridicule will probably be heaped upon me; but when I consider that it is the ignorant only who use that weapon, perhaps I can afford to stand up and say, “Let the storm come.” All who know me can say whether I have been truthful from my youth up, yea or nay; and the strongest language that I can use is to say that the following statement is strictly and entirely true.

In the summer of 1848, I had concluded, from the best judgment that I could bring to my aid, that it was best for my family to remove somewhere among the wilds of the West. Accordingly I took a tour of observation, and finding some land in Michigan, that suited me better than any other, belonging to a gentleman living in Rochester, I stopped on my return, in order, if possible, to negotiate for it. I stayed with my friend and relative, Isaac Post, and while there he told me of certain sounds being heard in the city; and that they displayed intelligence, and purported to be made by “Spirits,” or persons invisible to us. I was really sceptical about any such things, but at his solicitation went to examine the matter. The persons with whom these sounds seemed to be, I had never seen nor heard of before, and my friend was careful not to tell them who I was, or where I had been. It seems that the question was asked whether there was any communication for me, and the direction from the sounds was, that three persons be magnetized; two of whom were present, and one was sent for from a neighboring family. I did not know the name of any person present, and I was also certain that none of them knew me. After the three persons were put in the clairvoyant state, one of them said, “We have got to go to Michigan.” They all agreed that they had got to go there, and on my account. They did seem all to go there, and began to describe places and things which I had seen, and at length came to a piece of land which they said was the place they came to look at. They then described the land so accurately, which I had stopped in Rochester to buy, that I began to wonder who had told them. They all, with one accord, then said, “But he must not go there. His father says that he had better not go.” As they said this, there came a loud sound close to my chair, and I sat some distance from any other person. They spoke much of my father, and what his mind was, and at each time that same sound was heard. Up to this time I had not spoken a word, but found the big drops of perspiration starting from my face. I gathered courage, and thought I would dispel that illusion directly. I said, “As you assume to know my father, and what his mind is concerning me, perhaps you can tell his name.” They all seemed to look steadily for some time, then commenced and spoke slowly and deliberately these letters: “W-i-l-l-i-a-m W-i-l-l-e-t-s.” At each letter the loud sound that I first heard was again heard, and felt immediately under my feet. I never was so astonished in my life, and involuntarily said, “What does all this mean?” The sounds then said, by the alphabet being called over, that they had better be awakened, and the first loud sounds said, “I will talk with George, and tell him all about it.” The direction was for Mr. Post, myself, and a little girl, thirteen years old, to go by ourselves. And here I wish it distinctly understood, that all which I shall relate as obtained from those sounds, was in the presence only of my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Post, myself, and the little girl spoken of. As what follows all purported to be from my father, I will say that his name was William Willets, a member of the Society of Friends, widely known at Westbury, Long Island, where he lived until nearly sixty years of age, and subsequently at Skaneateles, Onondaga County, where he died in 1841. The communication by sounds then went on to say that it was my father who was present and talking with me; and three hours were consumed at the first interview.

In saying to me what his counsel was, it always assumed to counsel and advise, but never to dictate. He said that it was not best for us to go to Michigan, and gave various reasons, among which were that we should not enjoy ourselves in a new country, and that my health would not be competent for the task of clearing up new land; and that he foresaw, if we did go, that we should come back again, and would be less in number than when we went. I then asked what was best to do. The answer then was, “Come to Rochester.” I replied that I knew of no business that I could do in Rochester. The sounds said, “I will tell thee when thee comes.” I asked if I might know now. The answer was, “No, no business is needed until thee comes, and then I will tell thee.” The sounds then said, that after a time it would be best for me to buy some land. I asked where. The sounds then spelled out the name of a man whom no one present knew, and said that he owned fifty acres of land on such a street adjoining the city, and such a distance from the centre of the city; that he would sell any part. I asked the price that would be asked. The sounds were heard and counted by three of us,—one hundred and fifty times in succession,—to tell us the number of dollars per acre that would be asked. The sounds said that we had better go the next day and see if this was so, and said that we should not see the man until ten o’clock, though we might look for him as early as we pleased.

In the morning I looked in the Directory and there found the name spelled out to us, and went to his residence at seven o’clock, and was informed that he was gone to a distant part of the city, and would not be home until twelve o’clock. We then went to find him, and had some difficulty in doing so, but after talking with him five or six minutes, looked at the time, and it was seven minutes past ten. This person said that he owned fifty acres on the street told us by the sounds, and that he would sell any part. When I asked him the price, he showed me a map with the price of each lot marked, and taking the number of acres said by the sounds to be best to buy, and averaging the price, it was the price told us by the sounds, within six one-hundredths of a dollar per acre. I then went home to my family and pondered over these strange things. Many were the conflicts in my own mind, and I heard the cry from all quarters of “humbug,” “deception,” “fraud;” but I could not believe that I wanted to deceive myself. Three months I thought of these things deeply, and I could not go to Michigan. I concluded, if it was deception, it would do the world some good to find it out. The first of December, 1848, I moved from Waterloo to Rochester. A few days after getting here, the little girl spoken of came round to our house, and said that the “spirit” had directed her to come; for what purpose she did not know; we inquired what it was, and this was the communication: “I told thee if thee would come to Rochester, I would tell thee where thee could find employment: in four days from this time I will tell thee. In the meantime the anti-slavery folks are going to hold their fair; would it not be well for thee to help them?” No one was present at this time except my wife, the little girl, and myself. The four days went by, and again, without solicitation, and without thinking the time was up, the girl came again. The communication was, “Apply to William Wiley, Superintendent of the Auburn and Rochester Railroad, to-morrow at two o’clock, at his office, for a situation, and thee will have one before this week is out.” This was Thursday. I was a stranger to Mr. Wiley, and I called on Mr. Post, and told him the direction, and asked him if the next day he would go with me. That evening he, happening to be at the depot, inquired if Mr. Wiley was at home, and was told that he was in Boston, and, by a letter just received, would not be at home till Friday night. I was told by the sounds on Wednesday to apply on Thursday at two o’clock. Thursday at half-past one, instead of going to the railroad office, I went round where these sounds were heard, and said, “How is this?—I am told to apply to William Wiley, and he is in Boston.” The sounds said: “Go to his office now, he is there.” I called for Mr. Post and walked immediately there, and found Mr. Wiley in his office. He said that he had returned sooner than he expected to when he wrote the letter. Mr. Post said that I was a relative of his, and wished employment; and Mr. Wiley replied that they were all full, with abundant applications, and could give no encouragement whatever. We walked back, thinking deeply, and I went where the sounds were heard again. I inquired, “How is this?—Mr. Wiley has no place for me!” The answer was: “Thee will have a place on the cars, and will know it before the week is out.”

On Saturday night, at dark, I met Mr. Post, and he asked if I had heard anything from Mr. Wiley. I replied, “Not a word.” At eight o’clock on that same evening Mr. Post called at my house, and said that Mr. Wiley had just been at his store, and said that he had a place for me, and wished me to call at his office on Monday morning. As Mr. Wiley did not tell what place I was to fill, I again asked the sounds what it was; and they said it was to go as baggage-master between this place and Auburn. On Sunday morning I wrote to my friend James Truman, of Waterloo, stating that I should pass through that place on Monday following, in the capacity above stated, before I knew from Mr. Wiley what place he wanted me to fill; and he can probably testify to that fact. One month after I had been running on the cars, I learned that the person whose place I took had done things worthy of a dismissal, previous to my being directed to make application, which did not come to Mr. Wiley’s notice till the day on which I received the appointment. These things have only been known to a few friends; you and the world now have them. I have many communications, penned down at the time they were received, purporting to be from my father, all of the most elevating character, inciting me to goodness, purity and honesty of heart, and ever pointing to the endless progression of man. In conclusion, I may say that I have examined the matter attentively for one year and a half, and have had abundant opportunities to do so, and am prepared to say, although the sounds may cease to-day, and never be heard again, they have displayed a remarkable degree of intelligence, and were not made by any person visible to us.

(Signed) George Willets.[7]

Before proceeding further I desire at this point to insert in this volume an interesting letter, addressed to the Rochester Daily Advertiser, by our friend Mr. John E. Robinson, also, like Mr. Willets, a well-known and distinguished member of the Society of Friends.

The controversy on the rapping and the general spiritual manifestations after the public investigation could no longer be suppressed. It became a subject which elicited much comment in the public prints; but in relation to which the Spiritualists had nothing to fear. Their opponents, generally, wrote without ever having examined it; and graded the vehemence of their opposition by the strength of their fealty to the teachings of their leaders. One of these acknowledged leaders was Chester Dewey, D.D., of the Rochester Collegiate Institute, who, without seeking to investigate the subject, claimed to recognize it as a fraud in its inception and wicked in its designs; and thus recorded his opinion in the public press at Rochester. His letters to the Rochester Daily Advertiser, at the time, drew forth the following rejoinder by Mr. Robinson, of that city, which was published in the columns of that paper: