“We (your friends here) want you and the Spirits—who seem to think their bread-and-butter depends on their paying court (in especial) to you and yours—to come to us once in a while—like the chance sunlight that struggles through the bars of the prisoner’s window to reveal the gladness of the upper world—and rub the rust from our chains.
“You ought to come home next week, at any rate, even if you are determined on going West again. And really, I think you ought to visit Cleveland and Cincinnati before long. You would find many good people in both places, who would rejoice to see you and Margaretta, and who are looking out for your advent there with no little anxiety.
“Mrs. Bush read to me last evening a portion of a letter from her brother, resident, I believe, in the latter city, in which he urges her to come there and speaks of things connected with Spiritualism somewhat in detail. I observe Mr. Cogshall’s book is noticed very fairly in the National Era (of Washington, D. C.), a journal of high character for literary attainments. I will copy the notice as follows: ‘We have read this book, and have been pleased with its style, and impressed with the sincerity of its author. Still we do not believe. Nothing short of sight and hearing can convince us that the souls of the departed are really rapping in such an audible and startling manner on the wall which divides us from the Spiritual world—really moving chairs and tables and ringing bells, and otherwise disturbing domestic order and quiet. Yet, according to this little history, some Spirits justify themselves for their sudden incursions into our territory, by giving comfort to the mourner and sweet assurances of a love which could not die.’
“If all be an imposture, who can measure the depth of that depravity which trifles thus with the holiest affections, aspirations, and sorrows? Greeley in a late Tribune has a rich joke. He says: ‘Some brainless editor out in Milwaukee not long since published the fact that he had an interview with the Spirit of Captain West, of the steamer, who reported that the noble steamer struck an iceberg and went to the bottom of the ocean with all on board.’ Milwaukee is a great place! Our George (Willets) thinks ‘that Spirit took some trouble to spread the news.’ It is presumable that it was one of the Auburn Apostolic brethren. What a pity that Spirits (some of them) are not less given to lying. However, if they are capable of falsehood (as we well know some of them are), it is better they should show their hands, else their communications might work much evil. The good shines out with a more glorious brightness in contrast with the darkness of its opposite.
“Enough is known already to warrant the immense interest which this subject is now creating, and I think that there is in the future (not very distant) a glad day approaching. I am sometimes disposed to be depressed. I have very little from Spirits, such as I would most wish to get communications from, and you can hardly realize the sense of neglect—so to speak—which I feel. I hope, when you return, some of my kindred Spirits—that delicate, pure-souled sister of mine, in particular (a lock of whose hair I took from among my papers yesterday and found it as lustrous as when first taken from her perishing form), may have some message to deliver to one whose love for her is immortal. Leah, I want to whisper in your ear. Turn from the table and the sceptics who sit by, and lend me your ears. Last night, when my internal senses were playing their pranks, I had a dream of you. You were at your home, and my solicitude for the kingdom had led my steps to the capital of the New Jerusalem. My best bow had been made to the Spirits, the last words to you had been said, and I was about going out of the gate, when I remembered an important omission: and turning just as you were closing the front door, I cried, ‘Leah! Leah!’ and awoke with your name on my lips; pronouncing it once audibly after I awoke—just to see if you could come and answer me. But no response came, not even an echo of my voice from the walls of my room. Leah! Leah! I call again, and will you come?
“Yours in the bonds of patience,
“J. E. R.”
LETTER FROM WELCOME WHITTAKER.
Troy, N. Y., February 24, 1851.
“Mrs. Fish:
“I perceive, by the Buffalo papers, that you have had the unparalleled temerity to call public attention, in that place, to the manifestations of Spiritualism; and that, too, without so much as consulting for one moment the feelings, prejudices, or scientific accumulation of certain of the wonderful Faculty there. Well, they pounced upon you as you might well suppose such (God forgive me!) scientific gentlemen would, conscious as they doubtless are, that their position on the pyramid of all human knowledge is nothing short of the very cap-stone itself. Not only have they, in most chivalrous manner, arrayed themselves for your disrespect, but a masterly stroke, ingeniously given, shielded the public forever against such gross trickery and imposition by an exposé of the whole thing!