This craze continued all one winter. It was great fun, but I wearied of it after a while. And what makes me know that I was more than vaguely conscious of my own deception is that on “experiencing religion” I changed so in my feelings about the pastime. After that, when planchette-writing was proposed, I recoiled from it, refusing or evading requests for the experiments, and somehow finally managed to put a quietus on the career of the little instrument. I think I even appeared to comply with their requests occasionally, but did not will the thing to write, and, several failures dampening the interest, the thing was dropped--Planchette was again relegated to the upstairs closet. For years I never came upon the little heart-shaped affair without a feeling almost of nausea at the part I had taken in the mysterious writing. Thereafter it was painful to hear others recounting, in good faith, the wonderful things it had done. Harmless as were these pastimes on the whole, it is in their deeper significance that the gravity lies. They betray innate and grave faults of character--a capacity for artful duplicity which grew by what it fed upon, each triumph leading to other, more elaborate experiments. How it would pain my parents to learn that I had been such a gay deceiver when they thought me a demure little mouse! The experience has shown me how easy it is, too, to delude one’s self, as well as to dupe others. I can see how “mediums,” and all who deal in occult matters, may evolve into veritable frauds, though starting out in the utmost good faith. For some years after most of the girls wore bangs or curled their hair I resolutely refused to do it, on the ground that it was artificial. Though longing for wavy hair falling softly over my high forehead, I would not curl it--it was false, the whole idea was wrong; Nature had denied me natural curls, and I would suffer the sight of my plain face in the glass rather than employ artificial means to relieve its plainness. But--when about seventeen, I did begin to curl my hair, my awakening feminine instincts, I suppose, getting the better of my principles, such as they were. I disapproved of artificial flowers, and for years would not wear them on my hats; but there came a time when I weakened in this, though the flowers must be of the best--the most natural-looking to be had.