A. No reply.
Q. When did you die?
A. I did not die, I passed away.
Q. Very well, then, when did you pass away?
How long have you been in the spirit land?
A. We have no measurements of time here.
Q. Though you may be indifferent and uncertain as
to dates and times in your present condition and environment,
this has nothing to do with your former condition.
You had dates then. One of these is what I ask
for. You departed on a certain day in a certain
year. Is not this true?
A. Yes.
Q. Then name the day of the month.
(Much fumbling with pencil, on the part of the medium,
accompanied by violent spasmodic jerkings of his head
and body, for some little time. Finally, explanation
to the effect that spirits often forget dates, such
things being without importance to them.)
Q. Then this one has actually forgotten the date of
its translation to the spirit land?
This was granted to be the case.
Q. This is very curious. Well, then, what year
was it?
(More fumbling, jerking, idiotic spasms, on the part
of the medium. Finally, explanation to the effect
that the spirit has forgotten the year.)
Q. This is indeed stupendous. Let me put one
more question, one last question, to you, before we
part to meet no more;—for even if I fail
to avoid your asylum, a meeting there will go for
nothing as a meeting, since by that time you will
easily have forgotten me and my name: did you
die a natural death, or were you cut off by a catastrophe?
A. (After long hesitation and many throes and spasms.)
Natural death.
This ended the interview. My friend told the
medium that when his relative was in this poor world,
he was endowed with an extraordinary intellect and
an absolutely defectless memory, and it seemed a great
pity that he had not been allowed to keep some shred
of these for his amusement in the realms of everlasting
contentment, and for the amazement and admiration
of the rest of the population there.
This man had plenty of clients—has plenty
yet. He receives letters from spirits located
in every part of the spirit world, and delivers them
all over this country through the United States mail.
These letters are filled with advice—advice
from ‘spirits’ who don’t know as
much as a tadpole—and this advice is religiously
followed by the receivers. One of these clients
was a man whom the spirits (if one may thus plurally
describe the ingenious Manchester) were teaching how
to contrive an improved railway car-wheel. It
is coarse employment for a spirit, but it is higher
and wholesomer activity than talking for ever about
‘how happy we are.’
