You have been about to so many mediums, and taken on so many magnetisms, that your mind has got a little off its natural balance. There is always danger in going to many strange mediums. The true way is to keep to but one; then you can hold full possession of yourself, and easily detect a false spirit."
"How, when you cannot see him, can you detect the false spirit?"
"By charging him in the name of Christ to tell the truth."
"Why in the name of Christ?"
"Because he is God—at least the only God known in this corner of creation."
"This spirit has told me that he was only a man."
"Spirits teach as many creeds as the clergy, and as many philosophies as can be found in the books. In fact, I believe that all creeds, and all philosophies, have their origin in the other world, and come down from spirits to mortals."
"Then of what earthly value is Spiritualism?"
"Of incalculable value; for it proves that if a man dies, he will live again; and that one truth, demonstrated beyond the possibility of doubt, is enough to offset all the error, and all the evil that spirits are now bringing into the world."
That night I went home by the New London boat, and on the way fell in with a gentleman who told me of a remarkable medium who lived in Boston. I was still weak and giddy, from the effects of my attack; but I determined to seek this medium, and, in a final interview, give the counterfeit Franklin a discourse upon truth-telling that would do him good for at least a century.
The "spiritual" investigator will often find himself in strange quarters; so, after ascending the dingy staircase of a dilapidated house near the Back Bay, I now found myself in a meagre back room over a provision store. The medium was a stout, florid woman of about forty, and she readily assented to my request for an interview. Letting fall the curtain, she seated herself in a chair near the window, and in a few moments her face, arms and shoulders began to twitch and her eyes to close, and then, in a drawling tone, she said, "Why, how queer! Don't you see? The room is full of sparks — sparks like them that is let off by a 'lectric battery. It's meant for you, and I know what it is—it's Franklin! I know him, for'he's tranced me afore, and I allers feel him through my head; and he's awful strong."
Disgusted at the thought of any one even bearing the name of Franklin, talking through such an ungrammatical mouthpiece, I said, somewhat tartly, "I came to hear from the spirit, not from the medium."
"Well, you shall; but don't be so snappish about it. You shall, for he's got tight hold of me, and in a miunit he'll begin to
