“Yes; one may always be sad or anxious.” “Do you meet the friends whom you have known on earth?” “Some of them.” “Why only some of them?” “Only those who are sympathetic.” “Do husbands meet wives?” “Those who have truly loved.” “And the others?” “They are nothing to each other.” “There must be a spiritual connection?” “Of course.” “Is what we are doing right?” “If done in the right spirit.” “What is the wrong spirit?” “Curiosity and levity.” “May harm come of that?” “Very serious harm.” “What sort of harm?” “You may call up forces over which you have no control.” “Evil forces?” “Undeveloped forces.” “You say they are dangerous. Dangerous to body or mind?” “Sometimes to both.” There was a pause, and the blackness seemed to grow blacker still, while the yellow-green fog swirled and smoked upon the table. “Any questions you would like to ask, Moir?” said Harvey Deacon. “Only this—do you pray in your world?” “One should pray in every world.” “Why?” “Because it is the acknowledgment of forces outside ourselves.” “What religion do you hold over there?” “We differ exactly as you do.” “You have no certain knowledge?” “We have only faith.” “These questions of religion,” said the Frenchman, “they are of interest to you serious English people, but they are not so much fun. It seems to me that with this power here we might be able to have some great experience—_hein_? Something of which we could talk.” “But nothing could be more interesting than this,” said Moir. “Well, if you think so, that is very well,” the Frenchman answered, peevishly. “For my part, it seems to me that I have heard all this before, and that to-night I should weesh to try some experiment with all this force which is given to us. But if you have other questions, then ask them, and when you are finish we can try something more.” But the spell was broken. We asked and asked, but the medium sat silent in her chair. Only her deep, regular breathing showed that she was there. The mist still swirled upon the table. “You have disturbed the harmony. She will not answer.” “But we have learned already all that she can tell—_hein_? For my part I wish to see something that I have never seen before.” “What then?” “You will let me try?” “What would you do?” “I have said to you that thoughts are things. Now I wish to _prove_ it to you, and to show you that which is only a thought. Yes, yes, I can do it and you will see. Now I ask you only to sit still and say nothing, and keep ever your hands quiet upon the table.” The room was blacker and more silent than ever. The same feeling of apprehension which had lain heavily upon me at the beginning of the séance was back at my heart once more. The roots of my hair were tingling. “It is working! It is working!” cried the Frenchman, and there was a crack in his voice as he spoke which told me that he also was strung to his tightest.