"Gradually, and in dismal silence, diversified only by occasional whisperings, about a dozen people assembled in the dimness of the dreary room. Among them came Mrs. Ravenshaw and her jovial, business-like husband, who seated themselves next Gerald and me, and confided their experiences of past _séances_. The lady was full of faith and enthusiasm. The gentleman was beginning to have doubts. He had heard things from unbelievers which had somewhat unsettled him. He had invested a good many half-guineas in this dismal form of entertainment, and had wasted a good deal of time in bringing his gifted wife all the way from Shooter's Hill, and, so far, they had got no forwarder than on the first _séance_. They had seen strange things. They had felt the ghastly touch of hands that seemed like dead hands, and which ordinary people would run a mile to avoid. That heavy mahogany table had shuddered and thrilled under the touch of meeting hands; had lifted itself like a rearing horse; had throbbed out messages purporting to come from the dead. Strange sounds had been in the air; angelic singing, as of souls in Elysium; and some among the audience had gone away after each _séance_ touched and satisfied, believing themselves upon the threshold of other worlds, feeling their commonplace lives shone upon by supernal light, content henceforward to dwell upon this dull cold earth, since they were now assured of a link between earth and heaven. "Mrs. Ravenshaw, as became an imaginative writer, was of this idealistic temperament, receptive, confiding; but her husband was a man of business, and wanted to see value for his money. He explained his views to me in a confidential voice while we waited. 'Yes, they had undoubtedly seen and heard strange things. They had seen bodies--living human bodies--floating in the air--yes, floating in the frowsy atmosphere of this shabby parlour, atmosphere which it were base flattery to call "air." They had enjoyed this abnormal experience; but, after all, how is the cause of humanity, or the march of enlightenment to be advantaged by the flotation of an exceptional subject here and there? If everybody could float, well and good. The gain would be immense, except for boot-makers and chiropodists, who must suffer for the general weal. But for mediumistic persons, at the rate of one per million of the population, to be carried by viewless powers on the empty air was of the smallest practical use. An improvement in the construction of balloons would be infinitely more valuable.'