Those
communications, taking the best, are certainly not a whit of higher
order than would be communications from living persons of fair talent
and education; they are wondrously inferior to what Bacon,
Shakespeare, and Plato said and wrote when on earth. Nor, what is more
noticeable, do they ever contain an idea that was not on the earth
before. Wonderful, therefore, as such phenomena may be (granting them
to be truthful), I see much that philosophy may question, nothing that
it is incumbent on philosophy to deny,--namely, nothing supernatural. They are but ideas conveyed somehow or other (we have not yet
discovered the means) from one mortal brain to another. Whether, in so
doing, tables walk of their own accord, or fiendlike shapes appear in
a magic circle, or bodiless hands rise and remove material objects, or
a Thing of Darkness, such as presented itself to me, freeze our
blood,--still am I persuaded that these are but agencies conveyed, as
by electric wires, to my own brain from the brain of another. In some
constitutions there is a natural chemistry, and those constitutions
may produce chemic wonders,--in others a natural fluid, call it
electricity, and these may produce electric wonders. But the wonders
differ from Normal Science in this,--they are alike objectless,
purposeless, puerile, frivolous. They lead on to no grand results; and
therefore the world does not heed, and true sages have not cultivated
them. But sure I am, that of all I saw or heard, a man, human as
myself, was the remote originator; and I believe unconsciously to
himself as to the exact effects produced, for this reason: no two
persons, you say, have ever told you that they experienced exactly the
same thing. Well, observe, no two persons ever experience exactly the
same dream. If this were an ordinary imposture, the machinery would be
arranged for results that would but little vary; if it were a
supernatural agency permitted by the Almighty, it would surely be for
some definite end. These phenomena belong to neither class; my
persuasion is, that they originate in some brain now far distant; that
that brain had no distinct volition in anything that occurred; that
what does occur reflects but its devious, motley, ever-shifting,
half-formed thoughts; in short, that it has been but the dreams of
such a brain put into action and invested with a semi-substance. That
this brain is of immense power, that it can set matter into movement,
that it is malignant and destructive, I believe; some material force
must have killed my dog; the same force might, for aught I know, have
sufficed to kill myself, had I been as subjugated by terror as the
dog,--had my intellect or my spirit given me no countervailing
resistance in my will." "It killed your dog,--that is fearful! Indeed it is strange that no
animal can be induced to stay in that house; not even a cat. Bats and
mice are never found in it." "The instincts of the brute creation detect influences deadly to their
existence. Man's reason has a sense less subtle, because it has a
resisting power more supreme. But enough; do you comprehend my
theory?" "Yes, though imperfectly,--and I accept any crotchet (pardon the
word), however odd, rather than embrace at once the notion of ghosts
and hobgoblins we imbibed in our nurseries. Still, to my unfortunate
house, the evil is the same. What on earth can I do with the house?" "I will tell you what I would do. I am convinced from my own internal
feelings that the small, unfurnished room at right angles to the door
of the bed-room which I occupied, forms a starting-point or receptacle
for the influences which haunt the house; and I strongly advise you to
have the walls opened, the floor removed,--nay, the whole room pulled
down. I observe that it is detached from the body of the house, built
over the small backyard, and could be removed without injury to the
rest of the building." "And you think, if I did that--"

"You would cut off the telegraph wires. Try it. I am so persuaded that
I am right, that I will pay half the expense if you will allow me to
direct the operations." "Nay, I am well able to afford the cost; for the rest allow me to
write to you." About ten days after I received a letter from Mr. J----, telling me
that he had visited the house since I had seen him; that he had found
the two letters I had described, replaced in the drawer from which I
had taken them; that he had read them with misgivings like my own;
that he had instituted a cautious inquiry about the woman to whom I
rightly conjectured they had been written. It seemed that thirty-six
years ago (a year before the date of the letters) she had married,
against the wish of her relations, an American of very suspicious
character; in fact, he was generally believed to have been a pirate. She herself was the daughter of very respectable tradespeople, and had
served in the capacity of a nursery governess before her marriage. She
had a brother, a widower, who was considered wealthy, and who had one
child of about six years old. A month after the marriage the body of
this brother was found in the Thames, near London Bridge; there seemed
some marks of violence about his throat, but they were not deemed
sufficient to warrant the inquest in any other verdict than that of
"found drowned." The American and his wife took charge of the little boy, the deceased
brother having by his will left his sister the guardian of his only
child,--and in event of the child's death the sister inherited. The
child died about six months afterwards,--it was supposed to have been
neglected and ill-treated. The neighbors deposed to have heard it
shriek at night. The surgeon who had examined it after death said that
it was emaciated as if from want of nourishment, and the body was
covered with livid bruises. It seemed that one winter night the child
had sought to escape; crept out into the backyard; tried to scale the
wall; fallen back exhausted; and been found at morning on the stones
in a dying state. But though there was some evidence of cruelty, there
was none of murder; and the aunt and her husband had sought to
palliate cruelty by alleging the exceeding stubbornness and perversity
of the child, who was declared to be half-witted. Be that as it may,
at the orphan's death the aunt inherited her brother's fortune. Before
the first wedded year was out, the American quitted England abruptly,
and never returned to it. He obtained a cruising vessel, which was
lost in the Atlantic two years afterwards. The widow was left in
affluence, but reverses of various kinds had befallen her: a bank
broke; an investment failed; she went into a small business and became
insolvent; then she entered into service, sinking lower and lower,
from housekeeper down to maid-of-all-work,--never long retaining a
place, though nothing decided against her character was ever alleged. She was considered sober, honest, and peculiarly quiet in her ways;
still nothing prospered with her.