Table turning as a parlour game is about as stupid and aimless an amusement as I know. I represented all this to Mr Kitchener, but in vain. He had attended some psychic meetings in Dunback or Dunedin, and evidently wished me to reconsider the matter. Also it happened to be the last day of the year, when people are always more inclined to be obliging, I suppose; anyway that Saturday night, 31st December 1887, found me sitting down to a table in the little drawing-room of that far-away sheep station.
As some reward for any virtue there may have been in yielding my point, I remembered suddenly that George Eliot's message on 28th October—two months previously—had been rather vague, and that it might be interesting, if the chance came, to find out whether "before another year has rolled away" meant a year from 28th October, or the year of which so few hours still remained to us.
After the usual inanities—"I am sure you are pushing." "No; you are! I saw your fingers pressing heavily." "Why, how extraordinary! that is exactly what I thought about you," etc. etc., it was intimated that a spirit was there giving the name of George Eliot, so I put my question at once.
"I did not mean another year from October last—I referred to this year," was the answer.
"Shall I be able to write automatically?" was my next query.
"No; leave that alone—it would be very dangerous for you at present."
"Shall I be able to hear? Shall I become clair-audient?"
"No," came for the second time.
My next question naturally was: "Then shall I be able to see very soon?"
"Yes; for you will become clairvoyant for the first time. Remember my warning to use but not abuse the gift."