"Yes." "Why, I thought you were older. Ain't you afraid of me? What, these children!" "No, I am not a bit afraid of you," I repeated, though in my secret heart I was dreadfully afraid of the other man. "Well, I am Captain Rynders--haven't you heard of me?" "Yes, I have, but I am not afraid of you." He took a seat at the table, and I invited him to ask some questions of some friends of his in the Spirit world. He asked a brother of his where he had died--"In California," was the correct reply. "Of what disease?" To this also he got a reply, which, with a strong blow of his fist on the table, he admitted to be correct.

Captain Rynders was now our friend, and a good and gallant one he proved. He made the _Herald_ publish a long account of it in our favor; the only occasion of its doing anything of the kind. He said that n.o.body should molest us; that he saw no reason why it should be done, and he emphasized this with a strong blow upon the table. He was indeed surprised that _we_ were the mediums; he had supposed them to be the old Quaker women over there (alas, poor good souls!). My relations soon became equally comfortable with his big friend also, of whom I had been so afraid. A letter for me was brought in and laid on the table between him and me. I noticed that he seemed to observe the direction on it somewhat closely. I presently handed the letter over to mother, saying, "Here is a letter from our dear friend Maria Rogers." Said my big neighbor, "Why, where did you ever know Maria Rogers?" "In Albany, at the Delavan House, where her husband had some business position. She is one of the sweetest women I ever knew, and I love her dearly. She was also very beautiful." "She is all that you say," was his reply, "and she is my own darling sister." The letter proved to be an invitation to spend Sunday with her at the Oceanic House. I had no further fear of her big brother, who, together with Captain Rynders, would certainly have pitched all the rest of the company out of the window in our defence, had it been necessary. Such was the conversion of our "prophet," from the cursing for which he had been commissioned, to blessings. I have since been a.s.sured by those who knew him, that Captain Rynders was really a good man at heart, with other manly qualities besides his courage, notwithstanding his animosity against the Abolitionists of that period, and others against whom the energies of the Empire Club had been directed by his party. I have some reason to believe that he has been a happier man from that time than before. I was sincerely glad to see him a few weeks ago, when he called on me, by my request, to compare notes upon our reminiscences of this adventure, and I was indeed astonished to hear so young a looking man avow that he was now eighty years of age.

At all our seances the general character of the manifestations was that all present heard the explosive sounds or "knockings," whose significance resided in their correspondence with the letters of the alphabet; while each in succession had the opportunity of communicating with his own friends in the spirit life. Nor do I believe that a single person pa.s.sed through the experience of one of those meetings who was not satisfied, in his own sincere mind, that we had nothing of physical relation to their production, and that no conceivable mundane means could have produced them.

Though in our own domestic experience remarkable phenomena of the physical order had often been produced by the Spirits, such, for instance, as the rising of objects in the air, including our own persons, etc., yet nothing of this kind occurred at these meetings, beyond the phenomenon of the sitters being touched, sometimes caressingly, by invisible hands, or having their garments pulled, or their chairs or the table moved--which were frequent experiences to our visitors.

I cannot afford the s.p.a.ce for numerous individual incidents of interest which occurred at those meetings, but will mention one, which is not likely to be forgotten by some of the witnesses to it, who may perhaps read this page. A stranger came one day, of evident distinction and advanced years, French, though speaking English; I have a vague impression that he was a diplomatist. He had with him a friend. He produced a folded paper or envelope, and asked if the Spirits could tell him what it contained. The answer promptly came, "A piece of the hair of the Emperor Napoleon." This naturally arrested the eager attention of all the company. I trembled with doubt and fear of a failure. The old gentleman opened the paper and held up a small piece of hair, and, with tears in his eyes and quivering lips, said--either he had been one of those who accompanied Napoleon on his voyage to St. Helena, or that he was a friend of the physician who had accompanied him. After this lapse of time I am not certain which, but something was said about the physician. He told how on an occasion of his hair being cut by the barber, the fallen pieces had been religiously gathered up, and this was one of them. Turning to his friend who had come with him, he said, "I did not need this evidence, but this test is evidently intended for you;" and then explained that in the morning his friend, who was an entire unbeliever, had said, in reference to their intended visit to us, that if we were subjected to that test, and if it should be told what were the contents of the envelope, he would be a believer too. I remember that Mr. Greeley and Mr. Ripley, of the _Tribune_, were present. If this should fall under the eye of any survivors of that scene, I should be pleased to hear from them. None present can have forgotten it.

There were a number of somewhat similar cases of treasured locks of hair being thus identified by those who had worn them in life, but though there are many whose hair is thus preserved by faithful memories, there has been but one Napoleon the Great.

However, I will further add that if there was but one Napoleon I., there was also but one John C. Calhoun. One day a Southern gentleman was at the table, and, having heard of the above incident respecting the great Emperor, produced and laid down his pocket-book, asking to know one thing it contained. "Hair of John C. Calhoun," was the reply. He acknowledged its truth, and exhibited the lock.

During this our first visit to New York occurred another "investigation"

by a number of the most eminent literary and commercial gentlemen of that city, at the residence of the Rev. Rufus W. Griswold. It included such men as J. Fenimore Cooper, George Bancroft, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr.

John W. Francis, William Cullen Bryant, Nathaniel P. Willis, Dr. Marcy, and others. It had its origin with the Dr. C. D. Griswold, M.D. (our friend at Rochester, mentioned on a former page), who came down to New York expressly to propose it to us, telling us that the high position of his brother, Rufus W., would enable him to unite for that purpose the best elements which the great metropolis could afford. We were only too glad to comply with so kind and friendly a suggestion. In the wilderness of my papers I do not find the full records of that interesting occasion, of which no full formal report was ever issued; but I well remember that it was highly satisfactory to ourselves and our friends.

All the testings desired, such as making us stand on cushions, etc., were exhausted. I recollect that Fenimore Cooper addressed an immense number of questions to Spirits (my impression is a hundred and fifty), and received correct replies. I find among some newspaper sc.r.a.ps a long editorial in a Sunday paper, by its junior editor, written in the full vein of hostile persiflage usual at that time with the press, dependent for existence on its subscription lists, the following as its conclusion:

"Since writing the above, we have read in the _Tribune_ an account of an interview between the Spirits' interpreters and Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper, Mr. George Bancroft, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr. Francis, Mr. Wm. Cullen Bryant, Mr. N. P. Willis, Dr. Marcy, and other literary celebrities, at the rooms of the Rev. Doctor Griswold. The responses given to several of these gentlemen, as reported in the _Tribune_, were most extraordinary; and yet--infidel that we are!--these replies have not shaken our obstinate incredulity.

"Our senses are the only witnesses we will consent to trust in relation to phenomena which, if really supernatural, would upset, among other things, the Christian Religion,[8] and the verdict of our senses upon all the performances which have come under our observation."

[8] This is a mistake or misrepresentation frequent with those who regard dogmatic "orthodoxy" (according to the t.i.tle it claims) as the true and the only "Christian Religion." All Spirits indeed reject the dogmas of the eternal h.e.l.l-fire, of total depravity, of vicarious atonement, of anything but One Supreme Spirit or G.o.d, and of the literal plenary inspiration of the Bible; but a vast body of the most enlightened Spiritualists (I believe the bulk of them) devoutly cherish _the Christianity taught, lived, and died for by Christ himself_; and a pamphlet by a well-known and popular Spiritualist is rightly ent.i.tled "Christ the Corner-Stone of Spiritualism."--ED.

Any reader desirous of examining the _Tribune's_ report above alluded to, can easily find it in the files of that paper for 1850. I content myself, for brevity's sake, with the following extract from Mr. Cap.r.o.n's volume on "Spiritualism: Its Facts and Fanaticisms," etc. (1855), page 172:

"But curiosity had so far obtained the mastery of bigoted opposition as to lead many of the most eminent men of the city to give the subject a fair investigation. The result was, as elsewhere, the making of many converts; and these were not from among men of inferior intellects or of unbalanced minds.

"Not long after the arrival of the mediums, a number of literary gentlemen a.s.sembled at the house of Rev. Dr. Griswold, an Episcopalian clergyman, in Broadway. Neither of the sisters Fox had ever been at the house before, and the meeting was called for the purpose of testing, as far as they were able, the validity of these alleged manifestations.

Among the company were J. Fenimore Cooper, the novelist, Mr. George Bancroft, the historian, Rev. Dr. Hawks, Dr. J. W. Francis, Dr. Marcy, Mr. N. P. Willis, Mr. Wm. Cullen Bryant, the poet, and Mr. Bigelow, of the _Evening Post_, Mr. Richard B. Kimball, Mr. H. Tuckerman, and Gen.

Lyman. These gentlemen were well known throughout the country, and the report was well calculated to carry much weight with it, let it be on which side it would. The result was highly satisfactory to the mediums and their friends. On this occasion Mrs. Fox and her three daughters were present. Mr. Tuckerman was among the first to interrogate the Spirits. Among his questions were the following in regard to an individual whose name he had not spoken, but had simply in his mind:

"'Did he live in New York?' No answer. 'In Baltimore?' 'In Cambridge?'

'In Boston?'--Three distinct raps, which is the sign of an affirmative answer. A negative reply is indicated by silence. Mr. T. continued, 'Was he a lawyer?' 'A merchant?' 'A physician?' 'A clergyman?' Knocks. 'Was he an Episcopalian?' 'A Presbyterian?' 'A Unitarian?'--going over the names of the princ.i.p.al sects. No answer. At the suggestion of a gentleman, Mr. T. asked 'Was he a Christian?' Knocks. Mr. T. then asked the age of the person in a series of tens. 'Was he twenty years old at the time of his death?' 'Was he thirty?' 'Forty?' 'Fifty?' 'Sixty?'

Knocks. 'Has he left a family?' Knocks. 'Children?' Knocks. 'Five?'

'Three?' 'Two?' Knocks. 'Did he die in Boston?' 'In Philadelphia?' 'In Albany?' 'In Northampton?' 'In Bennington?' Knocks. 'Did he die of consumption?' 'Of fever?' 'Of cholera?' 'Of old age?' Knocks.

"The person in Mr. Tuckerman's mind was the late Dr. William Ellery Channing, the eminent and liberal Unitarian divine. He lived in Boston, and died in Bennington, Vt., while on a journey.

"Dr. Francis having fixed in his mind the name of an individual, the 'rapping' spelled out B-u-r--when several of the company exclaimed, spontaneously, 'Robert Burns.' This was the true answer; and after an interesting interview with the bard of Scotia, the doctor declined asking any more questions.

"Mr. James Fenimore Cooper then asked, 'Is the person I inquire about a relative?' 'Yes,' was at once indicated by the knocks. 'A near relative?' 'Yes.' 'A man?' No answer. 'A woman?' 'Yes.' 'A daughter?' 'A mother?' 'A wife?' No answer. 'A sister?' 'Yes.' Mr. C. then asked the number of years since her death. Fifty knocks were given, and the number unanimously so announced by the company. Mr. C. now asked, 'Did she die of consumption?' and naming several diseases to which no answer was given. 'Did she die by accident?' 'Yes.' 'Was she killed by lightning?'

'Was she shot?' 'Was she lost at sea?' 'Did she fall from a carriage?'

'Was she thrown from a horse?' 'Yes.'

"Mr. Cooper here discontinued his investigations, and informed the company that just fifty years ago that present month he had a sister thrown from a horse and killed, and that all the answers had been strictly correct."

Mr. Ripley, one of the editors of the _Tribune_, a man of candor and great intelligence, drew up the report of the whole proceedings, of which the above is but a short extract, and in conclusion he says:

"The evening was now far advanced, and it was not thought desirable to continue our colloquies any further. At the suggestion of several gentlemen, the ladies removed from the sofa, where they had sat during the evening, and remained standing in another part of the room. The knockings were now heard on the doors, at both ends of the room, producing a vibration on the panels which was felt by every one who touched them. Different gentlemen stood on the outside and inside of the door at the same time, when loud knockings were heard on the side opposite to where they stood. The ladies were at such a distance from the door, in both cases, as to render no countenance to the idea that the sounds were produced by any direct communication with them. They now went into a parlor under the room in which the party was held, accompanied by several gentlemen, and the sounds were then produced with great distinctness, causing sensible vibrations in the sofa, and apparently coming from a thick hearth-rug before the fire-place, as well as from other quarters of the room.

"Such are the most important facts which we can recall of the manifestations of the evening. We believe we have stated them without any coloring whatever, as they appeared to every one present; but, with regard to their origin or their nature, we are as much in the dark as any of our readers."

I will add to the above but a few lines. After Fenimore Cooper, and his responsive friends in the Spirit life, had occupied the floor, so to speak, for a long time, calls upon him began to arise as to whether any of his answers were correct. Of course he alone could know, since they were in the form of raps. Old Dr. Francis, who had sat with his chin resting on his big cane, and his eyes intently fixed on Mr. Cooper, as had been the eyes of all the company, began knocking impatiently on the floor, which example was followed by others, as in the case of an impatient audience at a theatre. At last Mr. Cooper gave satisfaction to their curiosity, now wound up to a high pitch, by saying: "Gentlemen, every single answer has been correct." This was of course no small relief and satisfaction to us.

And it was a still greater satisfaction when, after his death in September of the following year, I received a visit from Mr. Cooper's nephew, with a note from the great novelist, one of the last things written by his prolific pen, and a message from him on his death-bed, substantially as follows: "Tell the Fox family I bless them. I have been made happy through them. They have prepared me for this hour."

CHAPTER XI.

RETURN TO ROCHESTER.

LETTERS AND NEWSPAPER ARTICLES RESPECTING OUR NEW YORK CAMPAIGN--LETTER FROM AMY POST--LETTERS FROM JOHN E.

ROBINSON--ARTICLE FROM A SUNDAY NEWSPAPER--FROM THE NEW YORK DAY-BOOK--LETTER FROM DR. C. D. GRISWOLD--LETTER FROM JACOB C.

CUYLER--ARTICLE BY HORACE GREELEY--POEM FROM THE SUNDAY DISPATCH.

Such was our first campaign in New York, through all the hot months of that summer of 1850. Toward the close of September our friends, as well as ourselves, recognized the necessity for us of some rest and recuperation, and we decided to return to Rochester. But before being allowed to do so, our kind and devoted friends, Mr. and Mrs. Greeley, insisted on our spending a fortnight with them at their home in Nineteenth Street. We also spent a week with other friends at Greenpoint. But this did not afford much relief to our overwrought brains and bodies, because Mr. Greeley's hospitable house was a centre of visiting to the literary circles of New York, and Spiritualism and its manifestations, for the satisfaction of their visitors, were almost as much the order of our days as had been the case at Barnum's Hotel, among countless more. Bayard Taylor was at that period very earnest in his investigations, and was a daily frequenter of the house. At last we were suffered to tear ourselves away from New York; and ah, what sighs of relief we breathed when we got back to our dearly beloved Rochester, where we resumed our former happy domestic life, in which we all divided our days, going at pleasure to and fro, between my house on Troup Street and the farm, the homestead and father's house, now a sort of adjunct to the latter; every one of which dwellings was always an open house to any one of the family.

This affords a convenient point at which to introduce a few out of the many letters from valued friends referring to our time and experiences in New York. I give the first place to one from that best, sweetest, and n.o.blest of women, Amy, wife of Isaac Post, friends in the double sense of intimacy, and the denominational one, for both she and her husband, who were all but second parents to me, were, as they still are, perfect specimens of the ideal Quakerism.

"ROCHESTER, N. Y., May 30, 1850.

"DEAR LEAH: I have very often thought of you since you left our goodly city, and have as often desired to communicate with you, but I hardly know where to direct a letter to find you; though I might have known that your movements would be slow, for strange, indeed, it would be if you did not find people enough, in every place you visited, interested in the remarkable phenomena that attend you, to keep you a long time. It is almost useless to say that we always rejoice whenever we hear of your prosperity, either temporally or spiritually; and while we do exceedingly miss you and feel your loss, we are thankful that you are affording _others_ the privilege of witnessing what we have so often enjoyed. When will you find a stopping place? Sometimes I think _not this side of Europe_, but perhaps my ideas are too boundless. You, and the good angels that are with you, can better tell; but wherever you may go, my heart and good wishes go with you. John E. Robinson kindly read to me some parts of thy letter. I was very grateful for thy kind remembrance of us, and much pleased to hear, from thy own pen, of your comfortable situation, company, etc.

"Please present my love to thy mother, Calvin, and both the dear girls.

Willet says, 'I want to see Leah and Margaretta.'

"Thy affectionate friend, "AMY POST."

The following two are from a true and lifelong friend (also in the twofold sense), John E. Robinson, of whom I could not, with either justice or truth, speak in terms any less strong than those above applied to my beloved Amy and Isaac Post.

LETTER FROM JOHN E. ROBINSON.

"ROCHESTER, Friday, June 21, 1850.

"DEAR FRIEND LEAH: Your anxiously looked for letter came to me Thursday morning last, and gave me a great deal of pleasure in the reading. It was worth more than all the newspapers I have seen in a twelvemonth, because it gave me an interior view of your temporary home, and a sketch of several things which I wanted to know something of. It was all of interest to me, from the top of the first page to the last line of the tenth; and I promise not to scold you any more, for I observe much of it was written during late hours of the night, when you could not help but be worn with fatigue. The only wonder is that at such time you could find room in your memory for me.

"By the way, Leah, what think you Mr. Jones told me? a bit of gossip about you and a millionaire, somewhere about Troy, or Albany. He told it as a special secret, and left me to make the most of it. It is capital.

When do you _go off_? I shall be expecting a delicate note on satin paper, addressed to me, tied with a love-knot of matrimonial ribbon, stating when you will be 'at home.' Very well, do as you think best.

It's no use for me to cross your path when you get fairly 'on a train,'

and, so far as my advice is concerned, I think you are smart enough in such matters, and can only say to you, as the lawyer said to the young man who taught him a lesson in roguery, 'You need no lesson from me.'