A. B. very distinctly said that he knew some of the asserted facts, believed others on testimony, but did not pretend to know whether they were caused by spirits, or had some unknown and unimagined origin. This he said as clearly as I could have said it myself. But a great many persons cannot understand such a frame of mind: their own apparatus is a kind of spirit-level, and their conclusion on any subject is the little bubble, which is always at one end or the other. Many of the reviewers declare that A. B. is a secret believer in the spirit-hypothesis: and one of them wishes that he had "endorsed his opinion more boldly." According to this reviewer, any one who writes "I boldly {196} say I am unable to choose," contradicts himself. In truth, a person who does say it has a good deal of courage, for each side believes that he secretly favors the other; and both look upon him as a coward. In spite of all this, A. B. boldly repeats that he feels assured of many of the facts of _spiritualism_, and that he cannot pretend to affirm or deny anything about their cause. The great bulk of the illogical part of the educated community--whether majority or minority I know not; perhaps six of one and half-a-dozen of the other--have not power to make a distinction, cannot be made to take a distinction, and of course, never attempt to shake a distinction. With them all such things are evasions, subterfuges, come-offs, loopholes, etc. They would hang a man for horse-stealing under a statute against sheep-stealing; and would laugh at you if you quibbled about the distinction between a horse and a sheep. I divide the illogical--I mean people who have not that amount of natural use of sound inference which is really not uncommon--into three classes:--First class, three varieties: the Niddy, the Noddy, and the Noodle. Second class, three varieties: the Niddy-Noddy, the Niddy-Noodle, and the Noddy-Noodle. Third class, undivided: the Niddy-Noddy-Noodle. No person has a right to be angry with me for more than one of these subdivisions. The want of distinction was illustrated to me, when a boy, about 1820, by the report of a trial which I shall never forget: boys read newspapers more keenly than men. Every now and then a bench of country magistrates rather astonishes the town populations, accustomed to rub their brains[341] against one another. Such a story as the following would, {197} in our day, bring down grave remarks from above: but I write of the olden (or Eldon[342]) time, when nothing but conviction in a court of record would displace a magistrate. In that day the third-class amalgamator of distinct things was often on the bench of quarter-sessions.