THE MANIFESTATIONS CONTINUE, AND THE HEAD SPIRIT WRITES A COMMUNICATION.
1512. At one time there was talking around the room, so as to disturb those that were anxious to hear every thing, when suddenly there came a shriek that was truly terrific; such a sound as Milton might suppose would be made by an imp of the infernal regions. The horn then said: “Keep silent.”
1513. Koons talked some time with the voice in the horn and harp; then asked him to write a communication for me. We then heard the rattling of paper, and the phosphorus began to show itself, was taken up in a hand, showed the hand. It then got a pencil, took some paper, and laid it on a table close before me, and wrote on it, making the same sound that a pencil always makes in rapid writing; then made some flourishes on the paper below the writing, threw down the pencil, handed the paper into my hand, and threw the phosphorus on the floor in front of Mr. Koons, who took it up and handed it to the hand again; it then threw it in the corner of the room, and said, “Good-night,” when Mr. Koons lighted a candle. I examined the paper that the hand had given me, and found it was my paper, which I had placed on the table, with a private mark on it. There were four lines written on it in a good legible hand, and following the ruled lines on the paper as follows:
1514. “Well, friend, we return our regards to you for the interest you have manifested in our presence and performance; we now take our leave. Farewell.
King.”
At Koons’s, Thursday, June 21.
1515. We have much more of a performance than usual, and one highly satisfactory. Among other things, after they had finished playing a tune, Mr. Schenick, who sat next to me, and who plays the violin very well, said, “King, won’t you hand me the other fiddle?” It was taken up and handed to him over my head, thumbing the strings as it passed. “Yes,” it said, “I will give you the fiddle; you do not want the bow, I suppose.” “Oh, yes,” said Schenick, “I want the bow, too.” The horn said, “Can’t you get along without it?” Schenick answered, “I can’t play very well with my fingers.” Then the bow was handed to him, the horn named a tune, and both fiddles began to play, accompanied by the drums and the accordeon, and a number of voices sang, something like human voices.
1516. Then the tamborine was played with much spirit, and passed rapidly around the room. At the same time it made stops in front of a person, touched them gently on the shoulder, head, or somewhere else, playing all the while; then passed to another, and so on. It passed me, and dropped into my wife’s lap. It then flew over Van Sickle’s head, made a great flourish, lit on it, and began to press down; and Van says, “Bear down; I can hold you up.” He then said there was the weight of a large man put on his head; it also passed to a number of others, and pressed down on their heads. Mr. Koons then asked him to lay the tamborine on my head, which it did immediately, bearing down, I should think, with a weight of twenty pounds: I raised up my hand and took hold of it, when it started up, and I held on as fast as I dared for fear of breaking the Tamborine; it then passed around and came to my wife, and pressed gently against her head. This, she said, she mentally requested it to do, as she did not want it to bear down hard on her.
1517. Mr. Koons then said, “King, it is very warm here; won’t you take Mrs. Gage’s fan and fan us?” But before he had finished speaking, the tamborine began to fly around the room like lightning, breathing a strong current of wind, and fanning all in the house. Then the phosphorus was taken up and darted around the room like flakes of lightning, and a hand began to develop. We talked with the voice while this process was going on, and tried to urge our spirit friends to write a communication for us. When the hand was formed, it passed around the room and shook hands or touched the hands of many of us. It took hold of my hand, and then of my wife’s. We both felt the shape of a hand distinctly. It then got some paper and a pencil, and laying the paper on the table, right in front of us, began to write with great rapidity; covered one side of the sheet; turned it over again, wrote five lines, signed it, filled the rest of the page with flourishes, folded it, and placed it in my wife’s hand. It then flew around the room, darting from the table up to the ceiling, there making three or four distinct knocks, and darting down and up, repeating the knocks a number of times in succession; it then passed all around the room, stopping and showing the hand to all that wanted to see it. It then commenced darting around the room again, and snapping its fingers as loud as a man could do. It then threw the phosphorus in the back corner of the room, said “Good night,” and was gone. Mr. Koons then lighted the candle, and my wife read the paper which was given her by the spirit hand, as follows: