“Yes,” I replied. “How did you do it?”
“All in good time, my dear ghost-seer,” was the answer. “Let us try first a few of Dr. Slade’s best slate tests.”
So saying he handed me a slate and directed me to wash it carefully on both sides with a damp cloth. I did so and passed it back to him. Scattering some tiny fragments of pencil upon it, he held the slate pressed against the under surface of the table leaf, the fingers of his right hand holding the slate, his thumb grasping the leaf. C— then requested me to hold the other end of the slate in a similar fashion, and took my right hand in his left. Heavy raps were heard on the table-top, and I felt the fingers of a spirit hand plucking at my garments from beneath the table. C—’s body seemed possessed with some strange convulsion, his hands quivered, and his eyes had a glassy look. Listening attentively, I heard the sound of a pencil writing on the slate.
“Take care!” gasped the conjurer, breathlessly.
The slate was jerked violently out of our hands by some powerful agency, but the medium regained it, and again pressed it against the table as before. In a little while he brought the slate up and there upon its upper surface was a spirit message, addressed to me—“Are you convinced now?—D. D. Home.”
At this juncture there came a knock at the door, and C—, with the slate in his hand, went to see who it was. It proved to be the pale-faced assistant. A few words in a low-tone of voice were exchanged between them, and the conjurer returned to the table, excusing the interruption by remarking, “Some one to see me, that is all, but don’t hurry, for I have another test to show you.” After thoroughly washing both sides of the slate he placed it, with a slate pencil, under a chafing-dish cover in the center of the table. We joined hands and awaited developments.
Being tolerably well acquainted with conjuring devices, I manifested but little surprise in the first test when the spirit message was written, because the magician had his fingers on the slate. But in this test the slate was not in his possession; how then could the writing be accomplished?
FIG. 3. THE HOLDING OF THE SLATE.
“Hush!” said C—, “is there a spirit present?” A responsive rap resounded on the table, and after a few minutes’ silence, the mysterious scratching of the slate-pencil began. I was nonplussed.