"Oh, if I myself could make it go, that would be different!"
"Try it."
They all moved back. I remained alone face to face with the table. I took hold of it, lifted it, thoroughly examined it. There was no trick about it. I made every body go behind me. I was facing the windows, and had my eyes open, I assure you. I stretched my arms out as far as possible, in order to have a good view, only placing the ends of my fingers on the table.
In a little less than two minutes it began to rock to and fro. I confess that I felt a little foolish, not wishing to surrender—
"Yes, perhaps it moves," said I. "It is possible that an unknown fluid is acting upon it; at any rate, it does not come toward me, and just now some one was pushing it."
"No," said one of the sitters, "nobody was pushing it; but, although you are highly charged with fluid, the assistance of another person is needed for the production of the phenomenon: you are not enough by yourself. Will you allow one of us to put a hand upon yours, without touching the table?"
"Yes."
Someone put a hand on mine and I watched. The table at once began to move, and came and pressed against me. They all cried out, and claimed that they had caught a medium in me. I was not very much flattered with the title, which I considered as synonymous with "lunatic."
"You ought to try to write," said some one to me.
"What do you mean by that?"