Upon one occasion we had invited a small and select number of friends to dine.  It was to be rather a recherche affair for Nemo’s Avenue, and my wife had spared no painstaking to suit herself with her table.  We had had a comparatively quiet house the night before, so that our cook, who had been with us three days, consented to remain till our guests had been provided for.  The soup was good, the pigeons better, the bread was not sour, and Allis looked hopeful, and inclined to trust Providence for the gravies and dessert.

It was just as I had begun to carve the beef that I observed my wife suddenly pale, and a telegram from her eyes turned mine in the direction of General Popgun, who sat at her right hand.  My sensations “can better be imagined than described” when I saw General Popgun’s fork, untouched by any human hand, dancing a jig on his plate.  He grasped it and laid it firmly down.  As soon as he released his hold it leaped from the table.

“Really—­aw—­very singular phenomena,” began the General; “very singular!  I was not prepared to credit the extraordinary accounts of spiritual manifestations in this house, but—­aw—­Well, I must say—­”

Instantly it was Pandemonium at that dinner-table.  Dr. Jump’s knife, Mrs. M’Ready’s plate, and Colonel Hope’s tumbler sprang from their places.  The pigeons flew from the platter, the caster rattled and rolled, the salt-cellars bounded to and fro, and the gravies, moved by some invisible disturber, spattered all over Mrs. Elias P. Critique’s moire antique.

Mortified and angered beyond endurance, I for the first time addressed the spirits,—­wrenched for the moment into a profound belief that they must be spirits indeed.

“Whatever you are, and wherever you are,” I shouted, bringing my hand down hard upon the table, “go out of this room and let us alone!”

The only reply was a furious mazourka of all the dishes on the table.  A gentleman present, who had, as he afterward told us, studied the subject of spiritualism somewhat, very sceptically and with unsatisfactory results, observed the performance keenly, and suggested that I should try a gentler method of appeal.  Whatever the agent was,—­and what it was he had not yet discovered,—­he had noticed repeatedly that the quiet modes of meeting it were most effective.

Rather amused, I spoke more softly, addressing the caster, and intimating in my blandest manner that I and my guests would feel under obligations if we could have the room to ourselves till after we had dined.  The disturbance gradually ceased, and we had no more of it that day.