The Sketcher.

Lake County Press, Issue 904, 29 March 1900, Page 2

The Sketcher.

A Strange Seance.

It was a peculiar affair fr<gp‘ the very commencement. It was weird even from the circumstances that led me to participate in it. It occurred under the very nose of the public, and the public eye was blind to it. I was in a certain suburban park. I shan't toll you which it was— put on yarn- puzzling cap. 1 had east aside ray worries, and had determined to enjoy an hour of the modern pastoral. It was one evening in the year's sweet bridal month, when spring weds summer, when the May bloom decks the glade, and just about the time the sun takes his evening dip, gilding the waters of liis bath as ho disappears into their midst. . , , , , I had wandered into a thickly wooded grove, and 1 thought myself alone ; so I was rattier startled when I heard a human voice close by me ary out “ cuckoo.” On looking up I perceived an old gentleman, a very queer-looking old gentleman, perched on the stump of a wittiered tree. He was swinging his legs about as if he were in a state of thorough enjoyment, and be was nodding his quaint old head —nodding it evidently at me. It was not a position in which one would usually find an old gentleman—not a respectable old gentleman. lit was not an occupation in which old gentlemen are prone to indulge ; so I fear in ray surprise 1 must have shared at him very rudely. “ Oh, I’m here right enough,” cried he. He had evidently read my thought. “ I’m very much here, ha ! ha ! ha !” And his legs went swinging at a fearful rate.

“ I wouldn't look quite so bewildered if I were you,” continued lie in Ms strange croaking voice. “ People passing might notice it. Oh, you think I ■sfhou'ld be most likely to attract their (attention ? That’s where you’re wrong. Dm here, most positively here ; but for all that very, very few people can see me. YOu can, because you’re clairvoyant. I’m a spirit. Ha !ha !” I questioned myself a.s to the possibility of my being asleep and dreaming; but again divining ray thoughts, he replied with a chuckle ; “ Oh. you’re wide awake—cuckoo.” And he gave me a knowing wink. ■Suddenly lie assumed an alert expression ; and then, bonding forward mysteriously, he whispered : “TheTe are seme iieople coining. I don’t wish to distress you. I know you’d like to introduce me ; but as you can’t, I’ll disappear.” I turned to see who was approaching. It was a pair of lovers ; but they were too much engrossed in their own affairs to pay any attention to me ; so I faced about again. But the queer old man was gone. “ Ob, this is too absurd,” cried I. and I deliberately went up to the spot where ho had been and minutely examined it. There was nothing but an old splintered and jagged tree stump, with a gnarled root draped in lichen and moss. I ■stormed to gather a primrose, When I felt my hat kicked off my head. Then, raising my eyes, I perceived an old boot dangling' Just on a level with my nose. So startled was I that. I must have fallen backwards, ‘ for I discovered I wa.s seated in a bed of weeds.

Oh. the way that old man enjoyed my misadventure (for there he was on his perch again); tlhe Way he wriggled with delight ; how he held his sides with laughter, rocked himself too and fro ; •threw his arms up iu the air : and kicked out life Withered old legs. Every moment I expected him to over-balance himself and come to serious grief on the turf ; but no, he seemed as secure as you would have been on a music stool. Finally, lie got up—on nothingfloated round the tree, and then, with a sudden twist, . resumed ids seat. This Ilttble feat seemed to restore his mental equilibrium. Seeing him do tills so reminded me of certain entertainments 1 had witnessed that T couldn’t help expressing a thought. “ I’m sorry I haven't a, tambourine or a concertina to lend yon.” muttered I. ■He took off his cap and threw it at me. It vanished into air, but 1 distinctly felt as if I'd been struck by a wet towel. “ None of your inuendoes, my friend,” said he. “iim no charlatan. I’m no spirH by machinery. I'm the real article. I Wish T had a coucbrt iua ; I’d give yon music about your ears you wouldn’t cage for. If you're not civil I cthall judt leave you, and then yon'll lose something. I can tell you. ’Oopia.” And to my further astonishment he turned a complete somersault, again alighting in bis old position and looking as serious as if nothing out of the common.had happened. Then lie crossed his legs, nursed ills right elbow, and stroked his chin. “ Have you ever attended a seance—a real seance ?” inquired lie : and his eyes looked like two red-hot coals that seemed to burn right into me. “ No, I see you've not. Well, would yon like to ?” Again he read my 'thoughts before I could reply. “So you shall.” Thereu]>on he slid down the tree and stood before me. “ Follow,” he commanded. “ Oh. have no fear : I was a mortal once like you. only a great deal handsomer—and you’ll he like me one of those days, ha ! ha ! ba !—only not so handsome. Follow me. No one will see me but yon. unless we meet a clairvoyant, and he'll understand. Wlhy do you hesitate ? Ob, I Jthan’t take you off the earth’s plane. Oouno along.” He trotted on before me. just as if he'd been a human being. He didn’t attempt any further conversation, neither did I.

We were soou In a frequented part of the pa<rk. but nobody noticed him —evidently nobody saw him. We passed 'through a busy street. He dodged in and out amongst the people Just as you or I would. Never but once did he do anything out of the common, and that was When ho walked straight through a post. In my surprise, that post and 1 collided. He. perceiving my new misadventure, again extravagantly revellied ; but seeing I looked annoyed, he ’bowed to me very politely in contrition, and we continued our journey. A/t last we halted at a not very aris-tocratic-looking house down a back street. “ Mangling done here” was announced by a card prominently placed In a broken pane of the parlour window. My guide mounted the doorsteps ami tried the door ; but it was shut fast. I Then, without the slightest hesitation, he passed right through It. opened It from the Inside, and waited, grinning, in the hall to receive me. "I don’t like giving the landlady any extra trouble,” said he, “particularly as she's busy at present with her women cleansing her neighbours’ linen and soll-

ing their characters. Oh. don’t look so astonished ; khe won't be afraid ; she’s used to rny little peculiarities, bless her. Follow me up to the second floor. Mind the stairs ; they’re rickety, and the banisters are delusive, so don’t trust them. Here we are—Tooral looral lido." ?

couldn’t help being struck by the fact that this old gentleman did not in any way .bear himself with that gravity, that circumspection, one would naturally expect from a person In his sphere.

“ Who's here ?” ihe asked, looking ■round a room we had entered. “ Oh, only a poor muster to-night. Friends, I salute you. Let me introduce a sceptic. Sceptic, yon have the honour to behold, not disembodied spirits, but another order of bogies—'for bogies you ■will think us, you poor, blind, benighted flesh-and-blood machine-fettered soul. You behold here spirits who cling to the earth's plane, and materially affect mortality. but who in their mundane existence were merely the ■children of men’s ■brains, as Minerva was the offspring of Jove. Let the introduce you. The gentleman in the chair to-night is simply known as The Ghost. lie is a theatrical gentleman—possibly outsiders term him Slangy ; but by those inside the profession he is very much venerated, lie is a welcome guest in every playhouse, and is to he met with mostly on a Friday evening or Saturday morning. No other ghost in the whole world is so popular. His influence is simply unique; and when his wonted time passes and he does not appear there is generally heartburning and nnpleasantry. .In ordinary trade circles he takes the material name of Wages. That gentleman to the right of him is likewise in the mimetic profession. He is known as The Ghost of a Line. Not to he acquainted witlifthim is not to be considered creditable in the theatrical world. Authors are understood to detest actors who eschew Ms society. Yonder spirit emanated from the mind of a musician—a composer of the very highest soul order; so much so that none of his writings were ever guilty of melody, excepting one song, of which there is the ghost. That gentleman is the Ghost of a Tune. The person opposite, that melancholic individaul, is 'the Ghost of a Joke. He is welcomed when discovered in one of the comic papers. He is generally attended by the imbecile you perceive at his elbow. Who is he ? Why! the Ghost of a Laugh, of course. The mercurial personage, so restless, and fidgety, is the Ghost of an Idea. ■Sometimes lie ! s very difficult to catch—even more so to retain. The party who has just entered is held in contempt both on the earth’s plane find off it. Nobody wants him. One can do without him better than with him, for he only brings unpleasant memories —he is The Ghost of a Coin.”

“ Will yon allow some one to speak besides yourself ?” said a gentleman in the corner. “In other words, will you please give rao myself ?” “ Certainly,” replied my spirit guide, who seemed to perfectly understand the enigma.

“I, sir,” said the gentleman, rising, “ am a spirit that many sigh for, many work hard for, and many sit patiently awaiting.” “Oh ! ha ! ha ! Capital for a conundrum. What is that which ” It was the Ghost of a Joke who spoke, but he was silenced by the gentleman so rudely interrupted, and the Ghost of a Laugh, who had just opened his mouth, closed it again, and slunk behind his intimate's chair.

“Of course you would take me."'isaid the controlling spirit, addressing the Ghost of a Joke ; “you would take me.” There was a bitter sarcasm in has accents; but his tone was not unkindly When, turning to me, he continued : “ I am caught by some, and prove a blessing to them, for they use me as the thin end of the wddge for their advancement. Others let me slip through their fingers simply out of foolishness, others through sheer incapacity to utilise me. But there are myriads I never visit, and these, heaven help them. fade, fade into poverty, and .mostly thence into despair. Those who seek me are likely to find me; but there is no certainty of that. I am by nature hasty and capricious. I. sir, am the Ghost of a Chance.”

The spirit sat down, and there was silence. Directly I heard who he was 1 felt inclined to embrace him : in fact. I rose to do so, but 3o ! he had disappear ed. Then, as a vision, events of my own life rose up before me—anticipations, hopes. schemes, failures failures through folly, failures through being prematurely certain, failures through another's spite—faded chances, brilliant, effervescing bubbles which had died sparkling and had left behind them nothing but regret. For a moment mv eyes were blinded with tears, and ♦through their dewy mist I saw the spirits who had formed the circle slowly fade away one by one. Strange to say. the Ghost of a Coin and the Ghost of a Laugh disappeared together. The strains of a popular melody floated through the air, and the Ghost of a Tune was Indistinguishable. The last to leave was the Ghost of a Joke ; he seemed very loath to go—in fact lie seemed to he present long after T could see nothing of him.

There. ’ said my familiar when we were again alone, “you’ve witnessed what no spiritualist ever beheld before. You've gone beyond their most marvellous experiences. I pity yon when von come to narrate it. Yon will get'no credence—no. not even from the wildest visionary. Downstairs, please. The show s over. We ina.ke a silver collection at the door, so as to keep nn the quality of the spirits. We are obliged to do this from a moral point of view : for if tbe rent’s not paid we find the spirits become very low.”

lie wanted to sell me some papers to which all the ghosts contributed, hut I didn't purchase, because 1 feared thev'd disappear in my pocket. He most politely saw mo to the gate, and then vanished.

My head was in a whirl. T scarcely realised what I was doing until T found myself back in my own rooms. There I again became acquainted with a little spirit—Scotch this time. Then I felt that what my familiar had said was true—l was a medium, and for some minutes I allowed the spirit to control.— Charles Daly, in the “Newcastle Weekly Chronclle.”