An examination of the envelope by cutting at the edges, as in the previous experiment, showed that the 'Spirit arm' of the Guide of Mr. Flint had not the nerve of Dr. Mansfield. I was at a loss to know why it stopped; it was going along in the removal of the seals very nicely; to be sure the paper was tearing perilously near where the rent could be detected from the outside, but with only a little more of Dr. Mansfield's pluck, and the Spirit of W---- H---- would have been present, and the fee pocketed. However, from whatever cause, whether fright or repentance, the 'flighty purpose was o'ertook,' and the Medium supposed that a little mucilage would 'clear him of the deed.' Next I turned to Mrs. Eleanor Martin, in Columbus, Ohio. Without writing a fresh letter, I sent her the same letter to W---- H----, which had been returned to me from Mr. Flint, and the envelope was sealed in the simple easy way with five seals, but no silk stitches. To this came the following response: 'Columbus, Ohio, March 25th, '85. ... Please find enclosed your sealed letter, also the messages, and my terms. I learn from the messages, your letter was written upon the Spiritual topic. My terms being $1.00. But in your case I find the messages are at a greater length than many and according to request of the Spirit "Belle" I paint the little white rose as her nature. Most truly, Eleanor Martin. First message, written by one of my Guides in Spirit for the following persons: MESSAGE. In earth life I was tall and fair With jet black eyes and golden hair Eyes that sparkled with mirth and song And whose hair in curls one yard long. Ah but many sad years ago My life was burdened with woe But the seens [_sic_] through which I passed Are now with gladness overcast. I was born in your earth to await The coming of a cruel fate Yes, I a true and loving wife But mine was a sad darkened life. Oh a life which seemed to last To me the future, as the past, And as the lone hours drifted by My only prayer, Oh could I die. Cruel is the assassins hand Yet so many are in your land Day by day as a fearful flood Hearts have flowed in tears of blood. My own the pain, I could not tell But I can say I know full well My soul ne'er found sweet peace one day And with earth I could no longer stay. My form was sold to doctors three So you have all that's left of me I come to greet you in white mull You that prizes my lonely skull. I can cause you many bright hours Strew your path in purest flowers For your kindness tendered me I will _always_ guard and guide thee. You may call me your Sister Belle My other name I ne'er can tell They tell me it is for the best To let earth's troubles be at rest.