story on a three-legged table. But, as I have said, I am willing to
assume that, for some spiritual reason unfathomable to my mere human
intelligence, that three-legged table is essential. I am willing
also to accept the human medium. She is generally an unprepossessing
lady running somewhat to bulk. If a gentleman, he so often has dirty
finger-nails, and smells of stale beer. I think myself it would be
so much simpler if the spirit would talk to me direct; we could get
on quicker. But there is that about the medium, I am told, which
appeals to a spirit. Well, it is his affair, not mine, and I waive
the argument. My real stumbling-block is the spirit himself--the
sort of conversation that, when he does talk, he indulges in. I
cannot help feeling that his conversation is not worth the
paraphernalia. I can talk better than that myself.

The late Professor Huxley, who took some trouble over this matter,
attended some half-dozen seances, and then determined to attend no
more.

"I have," he said, "for my sins to submit occasionally to the society
of live bores. I refuse to go out of my way to spend an evening in
the dark with dead bores."

The spiritualists themselves admit that their table-rapping spooks
are precious dull dogs; it would be difficult, in face of the
communications recorded, for them to deny it. They explain to us
that they have not yet achieved communication with the higher
spiritual Intelligences. The more intelligent spirits--for some
reason that the spiritualists themselves are unable to explain--do
not want to talk to them, appear to have something else to do. At
present--so I am told, and can believe--it is only the spirits of