Page:St Andrews Ghost Stories (1921).djvu/76

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been validated.
68
A Spiritualistic Seance.

"Did you see that?" said the M'Whisker triumphantly. "I saw nothing whatever," I remarked. "What! did you not see the table float up to the ceiling? It remained there quite half a second, and then came down as lightly as a feather." "I was watching the table the whole time," I said, "and it never moved an inch from its place." "Oh! you are an unbeliever," said Mrs M'Whisker sadly, "but later on when it is darker you will see Mr Fancourt float out of one of the windows and come in at the other." I fervently hoped if he did anything of the kind he would come a cropper on the pavement below and break some of his ribs. The table then started to dance about and move along, but this, I am certain, was simply engineered by those two mediums.

After some tomfoolery of this kind they all agreed that "Ouija" should be brought out. A large oblong yellow board was then produced and laid on the table. On it were the letters of the alphabet and a number of figures, also the sun, moon, and stars, and some other fantastic symbols. On this board was placed a small table with a round body and round head, it had three hind legs and a front, which was the pointer. These legs had little red velvet boots on. The two mediums then placed their hands on each side of this curious table, which immediately began to run about to the letters and figures, spelling out things and fixing dates in answer to questions asked. It was not the least like a planchette, which is on wheels. The first thing they informed me it had said was that a spirit called Clarissa was present, and for many years she had lain a-dying in that room. She maintained that she was some distant relation of the White Lady of the Haunted Tower. It then rushed into poetry. Its first effort was the "Legend of Purple James and his Girl," a comic thing which reminded me of the "Bab Ballads." They afterwards gave me a copy of this poem, which I still possess. Next the spirit gave us a Scotch poem about a haggis, and then one called "Edward and the Hard-Boiled Egg." It then devoted its attention to me, whom it characterised as the "Unbeliever." It stated that if the Antiquarian Society would dig a pit four feet square by six feet deep between the two dungeons in the Kitchen Tower of the Castle, and if the rock