The furniture consisted of several chairs, a mirror, no carpet, a small stand, a large dining table, and in one corner of the room a bedstead, washstand, and bookcase, with writing desk on top. After some remarks by the medium, we formed the magic circle, by sitting close together, and putting our hands on the table. Bull Dogge, who, despite the Maine law, had a bottle in his pocket, took a big drink before he laid his ponderous fists by the side of the others. After a short length of time the table began to shake its ricketty legs, to flap its leaves after the manner of wings, and to utter ominous squeaks from its crazy old joints. Pretty soon "knock" under Damphool's hand; he trembled, and turned pale, but on the whole, stood his ground like a man. Knock, _knock_ in _my_ immediate vicinity--looked under the table, but couldn't see any body--knock, _knock_, KNOCK, KNOCK, directly under Bull Dogge's elbow. He, frightened, jumped from his seat, and prepared to run, but, sensible to the last, he took a drink, felt better--reverently took off his hat, said "d--n it"--and resumed his seat. Knocking became general--medium said the spirits were ready to answer questions--asked if any spirit would talk to me. Yes. Come along, I remarked--noisy spirit announced its advent by a series of knocks, which would have done honor to a dozen penny postmen "rolled into one." Asked who it was--ghost of my uncle--(never had an uncle)--inquired if he was happy--tolerably. What are you about? Principal occupations are, hunting wild bees, catching cat-fish, chopping pine lumber, and making hickory whip stocks. How's your wife? _Sober_, just at present. Do you have good liquor up there? _Yes_ (very emphatically). What is your comparative situation? I am in the second sphere; hope soon to get promoted into the third, where they only work six hours a day, and have apple dumplings every day for dinner--good-bye--wife wants me to come and spank the baby. One of the old foozles now wanted to talk spirit--was gratified by the remains of his maternal grandmother, who hammered out in a series of forcible raps, the gratifying intelligence, that she was very well contented, and spent the most of her time drinking green tea and singing Yankee Doodle. Damphool now took courage, and sung out for his father to come and talk to him--(when the old gentleman was alive, he was "one of 'em")--on demand, the father came--interesting conversation--old man in trouble--lost all his money betting on a horse race, and had just pawned his coat and a spare shirt to get money to set himself up in business again, as a pop-corn merchant. (Damphool sunk down exhausted, and borrowed the brandy bottle.) Disconsolate widow got a communication from her husband that he is a great deal happier now than formerly--don't want to come back to her--no thank you--would rather not. Old maid inquires if husbands are plenty--to her great joy is informed that the prospect is good.