Not long after my last interview with Mrs. Patterson it was my good fortune to meet with an _unprofessional_ Medium, a young gentleman of reputed honor and veracity, to whom I was introduced by a friend who had known him from childhood, and vouched for his honesty. This young man's Mediumistic abilities had begun to develop with the planchette, and had reached the stage in which a drum and sundry musical instruments were played behind a curtain where he sat entranced, with his hands tightly bound together by a handkerchief or cord. These séances were continued with regularity on certain nights in the week, and were confined strictly to the family circle and to a few privileged friends. There was, therefore, no temptation to deceive for gain. I came into the circle as an observer, not as believer, but was impressed by the phenomena witnessed at the first séance in which the Medium was under Indian control. There were strange sounds, guttural tones and whoops which really might have emanated from a wild son of the forest. A drum, an accordion, a zither, a mouth-organ were all played upon. The drumsticks kept time to music, rapped on the wall, appeared above the edge of the curtain several times, brightly illuminated, as if dipped in electric light or some phosphorescent substance. As I have said, I was impressed, and might have ended in complete conversion, by manifestations from so trustworthy a source, and vouched for in such perfect sincerity, had it not, in an unlucky moment, occurred to me to apply a little harmless test. The test consisted simply in putting a dab of printer's ink on one of the drumsticks at the very last moment before the séance began. The result could not prove physically injurious to the Medium, who had challenged investigation, nor to any one in the circle. The result was startling. Being accorded the privilege of tying the Medium's hands, I proceeded to do so with a stout cord, using a certain knot which I believe has never been known to slip or come undone. This accomplished, and while some one else fastened the Medium securely to his chair, with his back to the instruments on the table, the ink, concealed in a pocket-handkerchief, was applied. In this position we left the Medium, the lights were lowered and the music began. Soon were heard the deep breathings preceding the trance, then the 'Indian' began to manifest, at first somewhat sullenly, as if not pleased with the conditions, some of the instruments sounded, and at last the drumsticks began their tattoo. At the close of the séance, when the curtains were drawn and the lights turned up, the Medium was found in his chair with his hands still tied, but great was the astonishment of everyone present at the marvelous condition of the Medium's hands. How in the world printer's ink could have gotten smeared over them while under control of 'Deerfoot, the Indian,' no one, not even the Medium, could fathom.