However, Cartice and the pretty priestess went on, feeling their way through laws as yet scarcely discernible, but stupendous. It was soon evident that each spirit could manifest its individuality through Planchette as forcibly and unmistakably as is done here by means of epistolary correspondence--more clearly, perhaps, since when the little board writes, its movements and general behavior betray the mannerisms of the unseen writer. When a woman spoke through it the feminine touch was unmistakable, and the writing itself showed the finer element of femininity. It must be remembered that the Butterfly, as the visible operator, was simply part of the implement. The real writers were inhabitants of the unseen world. These the two investigators sometimes spoke of as spirits, though they realized that assuredly they were people like ourselves, though existing under different conditions. They were spirits, without doubt; yet so are we, though most of us are unaware of our true being. But few women came. Cartice was surprised at this, and asked one the reason why. She said the men were stronger, and were so eager to write that they crowded women out and took possession of the opportunity. Hence it may be supposed that masculine selfishness is not eliminated from the character by dropping the body, and that what we call brute strength, (which is in reality, strength of the spirit) is still formidable where bodies, as we know them, are not. It was noticeable that these invisible folk seldom spoke of themselves as dead. They had almost no use for the word. They spoke of those we call living as “people still with you,” and of those whom we call dead as “with us.” When asked if they knew such and such a person, they sometimes met the question with the inquiry, “Is he with you or with us?” At times they readily wrote during a whole evening, first one, then another, and so on, each writer showing a different personality by means of manner, chirography, style of speech and character of thought. At such times page after page as large as the table top would be covered. Again, evenings would pass with but trifling results, and now and then no communication whatever would be received. Nor could the investigators learn the reason of this. Simply, so it was, and the fact had to be accepted without explanation. The revelations were not always serious. Occasionally they were of clown-like jollity, evidently proceeding from clownish intellects. Frequently the writers refused to give any clue to their identity, and as for names there was a palpable avoidance of them that was puzzling. Occasionally a name would be given as readily as when its owner was here, but usually friends and acquaintances revealed themselves by their peculiar characteristics and references to past events, and this, of course, was the better method, as any mischievous spirit could pretend to be somebody else, if names were the sole reliance.