CALLING UP THE SPIRITS.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 110, 15 June 1914, Page 6

CALLING UP THE SPIRITS.

HOW MESSAGES COME FROM THE DEAD. A QUICK EYE AND A READY WIT. Specially written for THE SUN. It is quite ordinary and everyday: there are no lowered lights or anything else to aid imaginations that always associate spooks and spiritualism with darkness and mystery. The building is plain and unornamental, and at the end there is a kind of walledin dais, corresponding with the pulpits of other churches —for this is called a church, too, you must understand. People drop their small silver coins in the plate at the door, and take their seats quickly.* Before doing'the latter, however, most of them approach the dais, and thrust something into a box placed there for . thjß. purpose. Sometimes it is quite a bulky package —a photograph, a glove, or a book maybe; Mostly it is just a tiny note, and in nine caseß out of the ten the writers are women. Some walk up in an unconcerned and accustomed fiashion —they have been there before. If you get into conversa : tion with them they will tell you without hesitation of their "experiences." Others come in timidly and hesitatingly —it is their first 'appearance., They approach the box with stumbling steps and thrust their little offerings into the aperture hurriedly and half-ashamedly, and then scurry back -to their seats like scared rabbits. Conversation goes on :in - rumbling, whispers, while : the clock :hands r gradually .owork: their, .-way round to eight o'clock, and the miscellaneous collection in the box grows higher and higher. , » " * . A clock in the distance. chimes eight, and a . mat*, eJiter§. ."noiselessly fronts a. door at the rear of the building, and mounts, the dais. A pale, ' straightfeatured man, with magnetic dark eyes that are yet, so- inexpressibly weary, and- an. unerring glance that takes in, and accurately gauges the strength and depth, of the characters: with whom liis work brings him, in contact. After all, it is not so hard —there is nothing very complex about any of them. Women with care-lined faces and toilroughened .hands, their lives hold little of adventure, or colour, or romance. The story—the j>lain, drab, monotonous story-—of the one, is much the, story of most. They want to know the fate of some modest little meditated enterprise, or to trace a son or daughter who has strayed from parental control and become engulfed in .the vortex of the world. Younger people come whose hearts are sore ; from the recent death of a -beloved relative, and 'who have a vague feeling that they will ease the hurt by getting into touch witli the lost one per medium of the spiritualistic creed. Young girls, with foolish little; fluttering hearts, eager to .tear the veil from the- future, and see the handsome lover, the purple and fine liuen that may lie on the knees of the gods for them— Oh, lark, you are singing a love eon'g yonder,

' way out across the lea, And I sit in the garden and wonder—what will my story be^ We all want to know thesfcory that is lapped in the future for l us. T ' " • * ■ *' 'V ». » » ■ But the medium —so the - straightfeatured man is called —is speaking. He, gives out the number of a hymn, and the organ sounds the note. The words are quite reverent and conventional — all join in—but it is not hearty, somehow. The, voices sound a little subdued. - To sing hymns is really not what they have come for—they look Upon it as a kind- of formality which only precedes the real business to come.

Tlie ,sam©. attitude prevails when the medium gives a address. It is a curious jargon—it" means to be reverent —but ; all the same it is difficult to make "pl&in ■sense" out: of -it.:- But it sounds' very learned) and the listeners endure it" patiently, their thoughts meanwhile on the box. The speaker knows it, and it is with as much, relief as the audience—or should we say, the congregation!—feel, he concludes his cryptic oration. * * » * * This concludes the devious way by which the principal business is approached, and the box is handed up to him. He announces rapidly that he will give messaged for d certain length of time, and we gather that if any are, left over when the" t!raief> is up go unanswered. jfaftjer made this announcement ; hi i appears . tQ, go into profound meditation. Then he takes up a package which lies nearest to his hand and opens rt.' It contains a photograph and a note. He reads the latter rapidly and searches the building with a keea and comprehensive! gaze. - ' ''" ' -

He states that some one in the-build-ing has a daughter who lies ill in a distant town, and wants to know whether she will recover. A woman—elderly, poorly dressed, submissive-—sitting in the second row- raises her hand according to rule. One lightning-like glance is concentrated on her; it is brief, but it tells a lot. To a natural gift for reading faces ■ has been" added close study of the subject.' He sums up rapidly. , ' By the photograph the girl looks strong and-healthy. She cannot be'old, because the style of dress is of recent date. He invokes the psyehic powers—or does he only make a long shot into the realms of probability? "Your daughter will recover;" There is a faint, convulsive gasp of from the bent figure, and the which were tightly clasped in her lap, fall apart and lie slack and inert on her black dress. ' But it will take somp time until she is quite well again." The woman nods unconsciously. She has expected as much. "You are longing to go to her." A sudden eager flash of assent from the faded eyes, "but you are not able to do so." A half-sigh, caught sharply, tells that the shots, so far, have been quite lucky and accurate. " But the spirits tell me that all will be well with your daughter—you must rest content with that."

Another package, and a ring of aticient design, and a note, come to light. The medium reads, and again the lightning glance sweeps the room. 4 ' Someone asks if all is well with the owner of this ring." A woman at the back holds up her hand. He examines the worn, slender circlet he holds—the design is not conventional, it is plainly of foreign workmanship, Indian, probably. '' The lady to whom this belonged has passed over!" (It is always "passed oyer," never "died" in the spirit language). The woman nods. 'The lady was your mother?" Another nod. "When she was in the flesh she lived a great deal in a foreign country;

a country where the hot sun blazes down almost all-the year round.- I see people with dark faces about her*'' He pauses a second and searches the woman's face; evidently ajl is right. He can read no dissent there. He goes on. "She watches over j-'ou constantly —her spirit is near you now. She says she is quite happy, and she advises you to take care of your health'' (the woman, is pale and fragile) "and not to be led into any money speculations. She is very well, and she asks for someone of the name of Mary. Your name is not Mary? Then perhaps she had another relative of that name —a sister, a dear friend? You are not aware of any? Curious. I distinctly get the name. I think if you search your memory you will find that there is. Her own name was Mary, you Hav? Ah, that explains it. She is giving me the message from herself to you. -Jfr *.**., * « It is vague and plausible, istnd it. is half satisfying, half tantalising-—the surest combination to bring people back again. But the seene goes on—there is little tjinfe for reflection. *♦***# "I have here a photograph and a request to know how, it is with,, the original of it." A pathetic black-robed figure in the front seat, with,a. young girl beside her, holds .up her hand. He scans the photograph and then tlie faces. She was your daughter, madsiti?'' It is half a question, half an assertion. ( The woman nods. '' Your favourite' daughter?" Again the slight uplift of the sentence gives it a faintly interrrogative tinge. The woman demurs feebly,' "Well, I don't know,'' she says, and a shade of something like anger passes over the pale face about the pulpit. "You must be frank with me, or I can tell you nothing, 1 ' he says sharply, and the woman answers grudgingly, '' Weli, yes, then. " He looks at the figures in the front Seat" bcfth" are robed ia black, and' there is a kind of tearful eagerness in the face of the younger one." This. girl, has ; passed' over." "He '' studies "the physiognomy of the pictured face; he is jquick .and clever\at it: 4 < Your 'daughter.' caused you sorrow sometimes when she' was in the flesh—sti| was inclined to .be wilful and headstrong.'' His voice says more than his words, and lie is" rewarded, by .seeing the woman drop her head in a quick, shamed manner. He goes ott confidently, "It is better that things happened as they did; she Would have brought herself and you inuch unl happiness. I do not wish to be cruel, but I must tell you the truth as it comes to me. She i£ happy in the astral world,'and in spirit f shie is .often near you.: At present I can tell you no more." * * •* ■» •> ' * A girl who yearns to travel in far lands and strange, hands up , a written request to know when the kind gods are going to let her listen to the wanderlust that plucks unceasingly at her : heart-strings. He tells her that "shortly: she will have an opportunity to go to Qamaru or to Timairu, and lie advises the latter. w

She sinks back into her seat hopelessly.; .■ Oamaru •or Timaru, when her soul years for the soft southern' airs of Italy, the snows of the Swiss- Alps, the sun blazing on the Egyptian, desert, the wild, barren steppes of, Russia, the memoried temples and ancifent ruins of India, the Arab mosques under a sky of marvellous blue. . . . Oamaru or Timaru! : : / . *■** « * * So the scene shifts <3ll, the pale faced man Towards the end he looks .spent "and . very tiredsmall wonder in that. You sense the relief in his voice as he gives the last message." The/niaih 'business of the meeting is' over. .Some of the l people are satisfied, some are puzzled, some are disappointed, some are pleased. They drift out slowly, talking in low tones, until they are clear of the building. A big sense of ' relief suddenly descends on them, too, as they reach the open air.