The Shadow World | Page 8

very creepy," called Mrs. Quigg.
"To begin with, my friend is as keen-eyed, as level-headed as any
woman I know--the last person in the world to be taken for a 'sensitive.'
I had never suspected it in her; but one night she laughingly admitted
having been 'in the work' at one time, and I begged for a sitting. We
were dining at her house--Jack Ross, a Miss Wilcox, and I, all intimate
friends of hers, and she consented. After sitting a few minutes she
turned to me and said: 'My "guide" is here. Be sure to keep near me;
don't let me fall.' She still spoke smilingly, but I could see she was in
earnest.
"'You see,' she explained, 'I seem to leave the body and to withdraw a
little distance above my chair. From this height I survey my material
self, which seems to be animated by an entirely alien influence.
Sometimes my body is moved by these forces to rise and walk about
the room. In such cases it is necessary for some friend to follow close
behind me, for between the going of "the spirit" and the return of my
"astral self" there lies an appreciable interval when my body is as limp

as an empty sack. I came very near having a bad fall once.'
"'I understand,' said I. 'I'll keep an eye on you.'
"In a few moments a change came over her face. She sank into a
curious negative state between trance and reverie. Her lips parted, and a
soft voice came from them. She spoke to Miss Wilcox, who sat
opposite her: 'Sister--I am very happy. I am surrounded by children. It
is beautiful here in the happy valley--warm and golden--and oh, the
merry children!'
"Miss Wilcox was deeply moved by this message and for a moment
could not reply. At length she recovered her voice and asked, 'Are you
speaking to me?'
"'Yes. I am worried about mother. She is sick. Go to her. She needs
help. Good-bye!' The smile faded; my friend's face resumed its
impersonal calm.
"'Did you recognize the spirit?' I asked.
"Miss Wilcox hesitated, but at last said: 'My sister was active in the
work of caring for orphan children. But that proves nothing. Anna may
have known it--there is no test in this. It may be only mind-reading.'
"'You are quite right,' I replied. 'But the message concerning your
mother can be tested, can it not?'
"At this moment the face of the psychic squared, and a deep, slow
voice came pulsing forth. 'Why do you wilfully blind your eyes? The
truth will prevail. Mystery is all about you. Why doubt that which
would comfort you?'
"'Who are you?' I inquired.
"'I am Theodore Parker, the psychic's control,' was the answer.
"Soon after this my friend opened her eyes and smiled. 'Do you know
what you've said?' I asked. 'Yes, I always have a dim notion of what is

going on,' she answered, 'but why I am moved to speak and act as I do I
don't know. It is just the same when I write automatically. I know when
I do it, but I can't see the connection between my own mind and the
writing. It is as if one lobe of my brain kept watch over the action of
the other.'
"She now passed into another period of immobility and so sat for a long
time. Suddenly her face hardened, became coarse, common, vicious in
line. Flinging out her hand, she struck me in the breast. 'What do you
want of me?' she demanded, in the voice of a harridan. 'What are you
all doing here? You're a nice lot of fools.'
"'Who are you?' I asked.
"'You know who I am,' she answered, with a hoarse laugh. 'A sweet
bunch you are! Where's Jim?'
"'Does any one recognize this "party"?' I asked. 'Ross, this must be one
of your set.'
"Ross laughed, and the 'influence,' thrusting her face close to his,
blurted out, menacingly: 'Don't know me, hey? Well, here I am. I
wanted a show, and they let me in. What you going to do about it?'
"'I reckon you lit in the wrong door-yard,' I replied; 'nobody knows you
here. Skiddoo!'
"She made an ugly face at me, and struck at me with her claw-like hand.
'I'd like to smash you!'
"'Good-bye,' said I. 'Get out!' And she was gone.
"Before a word could be spoken, a look of hopeless, heart-piercing woe
came over my friend's face. She began to moan and wring her hands
most piteously. 'Oh, where am I?' she wailed. 'It is so cold, so cold! So
cold and dark! Won't somebody help me? Oh, help me!'
"I gently asked: 'Who are you? Can't you tell us your name?'

"'Oh, I don't