The minute that I looked at the returned envelope, I felt like standing uncovered, as in the presence of genius, a genius before which Mediums One, Two and Three paled. Nothing could excel the unsullied virginity of the seals, or of the gummed spaces between them. I felt that I must proceed with the utmost caution. With a very sharp penknife I then began to cut the edge of the envelope at one end. Scarcely had the knife been drawn very slowly more than the half of an inch before it became manifest that the edge of the envelope presented more resistance than the simple fold of paper would make. I stopped and examined the severed edges. Very delicate but very distinct traces were visible of a thin mucilage, perhaps of rice-water or of diluted gum-tragacanth. How exquisite and how light are the touches of ethereal, Spiritual fingers! After all the trouble with my seals, when, emulating Dr. Watt's _Busy Bee_, so neat I spread my wax,' it was beginning to dawn upon me that clairvoyant eyes, quite as much as our own, require Heaven's broad sunshine on black ink and white paper. The transmission of the fee brought in a few days the following: 'Dictated by the Spirit of W---- H----. To H.H. Furness. I found things very different here from what I expected. I think that is almost the universal experience. The half has not been told, nor can it ever be, for no language known to humanity can convey any definite knowledge of the mysteries of the Spiritual Life. I remain the same toward you and all my earthly friends. Am with you frequently. Was present in your Library with you one day recently. I send my love to M---- F---- and to all others who knew me in earth-life. A friend whom we both know and respect will pass over to this side before long. Will come to you again.' I cannot but think that all will agree in estimating this communication, with its adroit generalization, and in its general tone as superior to any thus far received. On another sheet of paper was written: 'There is a Spirit Friend present, who gives the name of Marie St. Clair. Earth-life had not much pleasure for her, and a course of dissapation [_sic_] and sin resulted in an untimely death. Born of French parentage, and inheriting some of the peculiar characteristics of that people might perhaps furnish some excuse. This Spirit says furthermore, you have something which once belonged to her in your possession. "Behold this ruin, 'tis a skull Once of etherial spirit full--" "Par quel ordre du Ciel, que je ne puis compendre Vous dis-je plus que je ne dois?" Here is evidently 'a spirit of no common rate,' of whom we might well desire further acquaintance, albeit at the cost of losing golden-haired, black-eyed Sister Belle. But why should we talk of 'loss?' If, as Banquo says, 'there's husbandry in Heaven,' why should we not in the 'Summer-land' find one and the same skull, with frugal economy, given to two owners?