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Again a period of conversation intervened, during which
the spirits became animated. The evening was confessedly
a dull one, but matters appeared to brighten toward its
close. The spirits were requested to spell the name by
which I am known in the heavenly world. Our host com-
menced repeating the alphabet, and when he reachedthe
letter “ P ” a knock was heard. He began again, and the
spirits knocked at the letter “ O.” I was puzzled, but
waited for the end. The next letter knockeddown was
“ E.” I laughed, and remarked that the spirits were going
to make a poet of me. Admonished for my levity, I was
informed that the frame of mind prOper for the occasion
ought to have been superinduced by a perusal of the Bible
immediately before the séance. The spelling, however,
went on, and sure enough I came out a poet. But matters
did not end here. Our host continued his repetition of the
alphabet, and the next letter of the name proved to be
“0.” Here was manifestly an unfinished word; and the
spirits were apparently in their most communicative mood.
The knocks came from under the table, but no person pres-
ent evinced the slightest desire to look under it. I asked
Whether I might go underneath ; the permission was
granted; so I crept under the table. ,Some tittered; but
the candid old A. exclaimed, “.He has a right to look into
the very dregs of it, to convince himself.” Having pretty
well assured myself that no sound could be produced under
the table Without its origin being revealed, I requested our
host to continue his questions. He did so, but in vain. He
adopted a tone of tender entreaty; but the “ dear Spirits ”
had become dumb dogs, and refused to be entreated. I
continued under that table for at least a quarter of an hour,
after which, with a feeling of despair as regards the pros-
pects of humanity never before experienced, I regained my
chair. Once there, the spirits resumed theirloquacity, and
dubbed me “ Poet of Science.”

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