Before Senator Spencer and I could say, "Good day, sir!" the old man said something like this: "Gentlemen, I am Dr. Louis Schlesinger, the famous Spiritualist medium. It is well known that I can talk with the good angels, and I desire to have a series of seances here in Modesto." "Our advertising columns are open," I said, "and we shall be pleased to announce your meetings at the regular rates." "I have no money to spare," he replied; "but I think you will say something about me when I show you that man lives after death." The Senator whispered to me (on discovering that the old gentleman was quite deaf), "I guess he's escaped from the Stockton Lunatic Asylum." Stockton was but twenty miles away, and I assented, but said, "Suppose we sound him before we send for an officer." So we agreed to give Dr. Schlesinger an opportunity to convince us that he was a man of rare endowments, as he pretended to be. Coming to the point, it was arranged that the Senator should retire to the press-room while I remained with the aged suspect. "Take eight or ten slips of paper," said Dr. Schlesinger, "and write one name on each--some of living, some of dead persons; and don't tell me or anybody on earth what names you have written on the slips. Roll them into little pellets--and come back here with your mind at rest, for I am not insane, as you think." We were somewhat surprised, for both were certain that the old gentleman could not have heard Senator Spencer's whispered doubt concerning our visitor's sanity. In a few minutes Senator Spencer returned, bearing a number of paper pellets which he held in his clenched right hand. Doors were closed and a table was rolled to the center of the room. Dr. Schlesinger closed his eyes and appeared to fall into a light slumber. At once there were many distinct raps on the table, as if some one had thumped upon it with a finger. This was rather singular, as we could see that our visitor's hands in no manner touched the table. Suddenly the old man opened his eyes and said: "Gentlemen, are you satisfied that I do not know any of the names on those papers?" As Senator Spencer was as truthful and honorable a man as ever lived, one whose word was better than most men's bonds, I replied: "I am sure you have not seen the names and that you do not know one of them." "And some of the names are not known to anybody in California," added the Senator. "Then I'll have to show you that I can talk with the spirits of the departed," said Dr. Schlesinger. Without further delay he said: "I see the spirit of your mother standing over you. She calls you Dillard, which is your middle name, and she says she died in Kansas City, and was buried in the old cemetery at Westport. Am I right?" Senator Spencer turned pale and said: "That is absolutely correct. Which one of the pellets bears her name?"