Once at Mariemont, I am told, when M. F. A. L. and Honor were touching it, the table moved up to a book in which relics and reminiscences of Raymond had been pasted, and caused it to be opened. In it, among other things, was an enlargement of the snapshot facing page 278, showing him in an old 'Nagant' motor, which had been passed on to him by Alec, stopping outside a certain house in Somersetshire. He was asked what house it was, and was expected to spell the name of the friend who lived there, but instead he spelt the name of the house. The record by M. F. A. L., with some unimportant omissions, is here reproduced--merely, however, as another example of a private sitting without a medium. _Impromptu Table Sitting at Mariemont, Tuesday, 25 April 1916_ (REPORT BY M. F. A. L.) I had been thinking of Raymond all day, and wanting to thank him for what he did yesterday for [a friend]. Honor had agreed that we might do it some time, but when I mentioned it about 10.50 p.m., she did not want to sit then--she thought it too late. We were then in the library. Honor, sitting on the Chesterfield, said, "I wonder if any table would be equally good for Raymond?"--placing her hands on the middle-sized table of the nest of three. It at once began to stir, and she asked me to place mine on the other side to steady it. I asked if it was Raymond, and it decidedly said YES. I then thanked him with much feeling for what he had done for [two separate families] lately. I told him how much he had comforted them, and how splendidly he was doing; that there were quite a number of people he had helped now. We discussed a few others that needed help. Then I think we asked him if he knew what room we were in--YES. And after knocking me a good deal, and making a noise which seemed to please him against my eyeglasses, he managed, by laying the table down, to get one foot on to the Chesterfield and raise the table up on it; and there it stayed, and rocked about for a long time answering questions--I thought it would make a hole in the cover. I don't quite remember how it got down, but it did, and then edged itself up to the other larger table, which had been given me by Alec, Noël, and Raymond, after they had broken a basket table I used to use there--it was brought in with a paper, "To Mother from the culprits." (This was a year or two ago.) Well, he got it up to this table, and fidgeted about with the foot of the smaller table on which we had our hands, until he rested it on a ledge and tried to raise it up. But the way he did this most successfully was when he got the ledge of our small table onto a corner of the other and then raised it off the ground level. This he did several times. I took one hand off, leaving one hand on the top, and Honor's two hands lying on the top, _no part_ of them being over the edge, and I measured the height the legs were off the ground. The first time it was the width of three fingers, and the next time four fingers.