In this connection it is interesting to note how easily a circle is upset if the atmosphere is at all strained. Red Cloud is always urging us during the sittings not to get tense. As a matter of fact, he often uses a little dance with the trumpet instead of telling us this, and experienced sitters know what he means. A too highly emotional atmosphere, whether hostile or the reverse, also seems detrimental to the ease with which the communications can be effected. Furthermore, it does not do to press…

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It is perfectly true, as a speaker said on the wireless the other day, “when people meet in ordinary circles in the dark they cannot really observe what is going on,” but it is the content of the messages which is the crux of the matter, not the supernormal lifting of the trumpet or the mode of production of the voices. As regard the supernormal lifting of the trumpet, anyone who has studied the evidence knows that telekinesis (the supernormal movement of objects) and materialization are facts no longer capable…

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I have listened to the voices of old people and of children, and also of well-known public men, who have passed on, conversing in distinctive tones with their friends at the circle.The popular explanation of these occurrences, as being due to fraud on the part of the medium and credulity on the part of the sitters, is obviously nonsense. It would invoke the ability of the medium, or possible confederates, to see in the dark – to be able to act all sorts of characters and ventriloquize in the dark,…

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Among the various minor points that are deemed requisite for a good sitting is a gramophone record. A little tune from Rose Marie, played with a specially soft needle, has been found the best. The voices that manifest can thus be heard easily. After Red Cloud has greeted the sitters and conversed for a short time, he will exclaim, “Hold on!” This means that he is going to get someone else to speak through the trumpet. Another voice is soon heard, usually calling a name. Sitters are warned before the…

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My first meeting with Mrs. Estelle Roberts was some years ago when paying a professional visit to her house. Subsequently I had several very interesting conversations with her on the subject of the spirits that she claimed to see. As a medical man, of course, one not infrequently comes across people who are the victims of hallucinations. No doubt I ought to have at once suspected some mental derangement. No such idea however entered my mind. Mrs. Roberts was altogether too sane and sensible a person and not in the…

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN,THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STORY In the pages you have read I have tried to give a picture of the life of a practicing medium. For reasons I have already explained – because I have no recollection of what transpired during trance séance, and because I deliberately try to erase from my mind after sittings for clairvoyance or psychometry and personal messages I have relayed – comparatively little of what I have written is founded only on memory. I am fortunate, however, in possessing, a vast number of…

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But Polly wouldn’t listen. It couldn’t be true that Tony was dead – everyone was sure he was a prisoner. Mrs. Roberts had made a mistake! She had been stupid to come. She went home – angry that she had wasted her time going to Esher and yet at the same time very depressed. At Littlewood there were so many little things which had to be done which hurt her almost unbearably. Ronald’s clothes to be put away – the black suites with a white stripe which he had always…

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Looking back, I realize what a sad and tragic moment this must have been for “Polly.” Her son, Ronald, a brilliant young man with a distinguished parliamentary career before him, had shortly before been killed in action. Meanwhile her younger son, Tony, was reported missing. There was, however, reason to believe that Tony had not been killed but was a prisoner-of-war and, mother-like, Polly clung heroically to this hope. These were the circumstances which led to Polly’s visit to me. For the details of our sitting I quote Barbara Cartland’s…

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“Within one or two days of their passing.”My visitor nodded. “There was such a knocking,” he agreed. “I live in a flat,” he explained, “and just before the newspaper published the account of their death there was a continuous hammering on my door. I went to see who was there, but there was no one to be seen. Do they say where they were going in the aircraft?” “To engage in new work; to take up a new appointment overseas. Now there is a message for Lord Dowding. It is…

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The next morning Barbanell sent a telegram to Mrs. Burgess, briefly outlining the facts and telling her he was writing to send full details. He received a telegram in acknowledgment and, some days later, a long letter confirming the information, her son had given us. “I really cannot tell you how I feel about it,” she wrote. “It is just wonderful. The suspense has been awful, but the load is lifted now. He must have seen me weeping and talking to his photograph. We were all the world to each…

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Later, assisted by Red Cloud at a direct-voice séance, the boy spoke through the trumpet, and gave conclusive evidence of his existence in the spirit world by referring to documents he had left on earth and his knowledge of the manner in which his parents were dealing with them. Our war-time direct-voice séances were significant for the youthfulness of the majority of the voices we heard coming through the trumpet. Only on a few occasions could the parents or friends positively identify a voice from its individual quality, but nearly…

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“It was on a ship, at Dunkirk,” I told her. “The ship was sunk by a bomb and he was one of the many who could not get to the boats. There is something else – an old infirmity of your husband’s. He walked with one foot turned in slightly as a result of a football injury. Last night you spoke to him; you said out loud. “Buddy if you are really dead, come through tomorrow and prove it.”“Yes,” she said in tears. “Last night as I was going to…

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This was followed by a boyish voice issuing with difficulty through the trumpet. “Hullo, there! Can you hear me? It’s ‘Cobber’ Kain.” Everybody present knew who “Cobber” Kain was. From the earliest days of the war this young New Zealander had been flying with the R.A.F., and by shooting down many German machines he had become one of the great aces. Tragically, on the eve of taking a spell of well-earned rest, he fell victim of a flying accident. “We can hear you, Cobber,” the circle replied in chorus.“Segrave brought…

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