In one of the social gatherings which grew out of the study of spiritism was a lady who, like myself, was a convinced believer in the reality of the phenomena, but skeptical as to the value and personal origin of the communications made in the “circles.”  Her daughter, a child of seven, was in fact a hypnotic clairvoyant of singular lucidity, and my brother, Dr. Jacob Stillman, obtained from the mother permission to have a private seance, only the mother and child, the doctor, and myself being present.  I hypnotized the girl Fanny, and when she opened her eyes in the hypnotic state the doctor made the usual tests for coma, exposing the eyes to the sudden glare of a brilliant light, sticking pins into her flesh, and so forth, and pronounced the coma absolute when, as he stuck a pin in her arm, she spoke, saying, “I wouldn’t do that, it might hurt Fanny!” I asked if she felt it, and she replied, “She does not feel it now, but she might when she wakes.”  “But who are you?” I asked.  She replied, “Oh, don’t you know?  I am Dora.”  The mother informed us that a young playmate of Fanny’s, whose name was Dora Greenleaf, had died some months previously, and that the impersonation through Fanny was always in that name.

The physical test being declared conclusive by the doctor, I asked “Dora” to tell me if there was any spirit friend of ours present, to which she replied that there was a lady there who gave her name as “Kate,” and whom she described in terms sufficiently correct to indicate a deceased cousin whose name was Catherine, familiarly called Kate in the family, and this was followed by the names and description of other relatives, all correct as far as names and such identification could go; but to this kind of demonstration I could never attach any importance as to personality, which is indeed a point as to which I have found that reliance can rarely be placed on affirmation, and as to which absolute proof can scarcely be given.  As in the case of Mrs. Brown, she replied with lucidity and promptness to every interrogation, and I then began a series of mental questions, being sure at least that the child could not draw from the question matter for an indicated reply.  She replied promptly to my questions, and from time to time I explained to my brother what had been asked, that he might follow the conversation.  After several relatives had been named, I asked if our brother Alfred was there, to which she instantly replied, “There is a gentleman sitting on the corner of the table by you who says his name is Alfred.”  The opportunity then occurred to me of asking a “test question,” which was, “If Alfred is here, will he tell me when he last saw Harvey?” The relevance of this question will appear from the fact that they were together on the steamer whose boiler burst on the Mississippi, killing my brother and causing injury to the cousin such that he committed suicide a month later.  The reply was, “He says he does not remember.”  At this I remarked