that the spirits did not understand Swedish, for they ought not in any case to have permitted themselves to be defied and threatened in Swedish as they were by me; that these wonderful knockings and tricks were either effected by these young sisters themselves, and they looked to me quite capable of it, however incomprehensible it might seem that they could manage to perform some of the tricks, or that they were the work of spirits of a similar disposition to these sisters, and in rapport with them. I may call these spirits, the little Barnums of the spiritual world who, like the great Barnum of America, amuse themselves with leading by the nose any persons who will be so led, and who receive their pranks in serious earnest. I do not doubt but that the spiritual world has its “humbugs,” even as our world has, and it does not seem to me extraordinary that they endeavour to make fools of us. I am however surprised that intelligent people can be willing to seek for intercourse with their beloved departed through the medium of these knocking spirits, as is often the case. The sorrow of my heart and doubt of my mind might do a great deal; but it seems to me that rather would I never hear upon earth any tidings of my beloved dead, than hear them through these miserable knockings. The intercourse of spirits, angelic communion, is of a higher and holier kind.
From this scene, which produced a disquieting uncomfortable impression (the young Lowells were extremely angry with it), we drove to call on Frederick Douglas, a fugitive slave from Maryland, who has become celebrated by his natural genius, his talent as a public speaker, and the eloquence with which he pleads the cause of his black brethren. He is the editor of a paper called the “North Star,”[1] which is published at Rochester: he was now here,
- ↑ Now called “Frederick Douglas's Paper.”
