"Well, not now; I used to; I feel it now." "Well, I am going to show you that I know all about your limbs. The pain is here," he continued, touching the calf of his leg. "You have a peculiar feeling of drowsiness and then sharp pains run through you, right there. Is it true?" "Yes, sir." "I'll tell you something else. You missed what your sister called a big chance when you were seventeen years old, and she said you were a great fool to let it go by. Is that so?" "It is," said the lady reddening. "There's a man in the hall," he continued, pacing restlessly up and down with clasped hands. "He has been sitting here and saying to him self, 'Well, this is all mind-reading. Now, if he will tell me something that is going to happen I may believe something in Spiritualism.' He has been rather scoffing me. Now, I want to know if this is true. I am talking to you," pointing his long, thin finger at a gray-haired man who sat on his left. "All correct?" The man bowed his head. "Well, I tell you, that one Christmas day," he continued, so solemnly that a hush fell on the audience--"I don't think the spirits ought to tell these things, but I am forced to say that one Christmas day a member of your family will die." A startled look passed over his face, and a shiver ran through the audience at the uncanny message. The man's name could not be learned, but on the succeeding Sunday your correspondent heard two women get up in the audience and admit that the young Spiritualist was correct. SPIRIT PICTURES.--Henry Rogers, a slate writing and prescribing medium of established reputation, recently located at 683 Tremont Street, Boston, has wonderful powers in the production of spirit pictures of the departed. His most recent success is certainly a fine work of art, resembling a crayon portrait of a young lady. His previous pictures are entitled to a high rank as works of art. They are purely spirit productions, no human hand being concerned. San Francisco has similar productions under the mediumship of Fred Evans, but the pictures have not the artistic merit of those produced by Rogers, whose beautiful pictures, however, require many sittings for their production; while those of Duguid of Glasgow, and Mrs. De Bar of New York, are produced in a few minutes and are also highly artistic. One of the very finest works of art at San Francisco is the portrait of Mrs. Watson, made by a medium, Mr. Briggs. Our highest productions in art, music, poetry, philosophy, and medicine, are destined yet to come from the co-operation of the spirit world. We have no music at present superior to that of the medium Jesse Shepard.