Fifty Years a Medium – Chapter 2, 10/14 by Estelle Roberts

It was at Richmond Spiritual Church in 1925 that Red Cloud first controlled me. A small group was sitting with me in an experiment to discover the extent of my psychic powers. I was not in a deep trance, and therefore had some knowledge of what was happening. It was as though I was partly present, partly detached. No doubt Red Cloud chose this semi-trance state to give me confidence before entrancing me fully, when all consciousness is withdrawn.

I could hear what he said through me, though I had no control over what was said. I heard him say: “One day this medium will be known to all the world. People will come from every country to hear her. Many will be turned away, for there will be no meeting place big enough to hold all who wish to listen to her. She will never want, nor yet will she ever know riches.”

When I emerged from this semi-trance I laughed self-consciously, saying, “What lovely fairy story I have been telling?”

Events proved it to be anything but a fairy tale. I have demonstrated my mediumship at many mass gatherings from which people had to be turned away because there was no room. I have met men and women of many races and creeds, from all over the world and from all walks of life who have come to receive comfort from Red Cloud and to hear his wisdom. Perhaps the most remarkable example of the truth of Red Cloud’s words is to be found in a most unexpected occurrence in India.

The late King George of Greece often came to talk to Red Cloud; to receive his teachings and guidance. This fact has since become generally known, but at the time his visits were never mentioned outside the small circle in which we sat and were unknown to the world at large. He had gone to India and stayed with the then Viceroy, Lord Willingdon.

Being deeply interested in psychic matters, he inquired of Lord Wellingdon if he knew of a mystic with whom he could discuss them. The Viceroy told him of a holy man who lived like a hermit. King George set off to find him, taking care to preserve the secret of his identity. En route he had to cross a wide plateau. After he had gone some distance, he was met by a holy man, dressed in a loin-cloth and wearing a turban. The hermit held up his hand, bidding the king to stop.