On the 1st of April she told me that a letter concerning these communications, then several days overdue, for which I waited with great anxiety, had at last been written. “Really written?” I asked. “Or is this one of those successfully started things you regard as accomplished?” “Really written.” At the same time she promised me other letters, from persons specifically named, and gave me certain information concerning a member of the Gaylord family. Two days later, when none of these letters had appeared, I said, “Where are those letters you promised me?” “The letters are coming, fearful and wonderful messenger,” she humorously assured me. “You have not made a ~m~ ... ~fr~ ... ~friend~ ... ~free~ ... fantom (O) friend in vain.” Laughing, I asked: “Is ‘fantom friend’ right?” She said it was. Half an hour later the long-delayed letter arrived, and as she had told me, it was dated April 1st. The other letters came later the same day, the one from Mrs. Wylie verifying the information already given by Mary K. about a member of her family. On Monday, April 1st, I sent a copy of Frederick’s recent interviews with his mother and sister to Mrs. Gaylord at K——, hoping that it might reach her by Wednesday morning. Wednesday night Mary K. told me that an expected letter from Mrs. Gaylord had not been written, adding: “She waits for the record.” A week later, after a happy visit in K——, Mrs. Gaylord returned to her home and notified me that she had not received the manuscript from me. Fearing that it had been lost in the mails, I asked Mary K. about it, and was told that it would be received. This was repeated at intervals covering several days. When, on Monday, April 15th, two weeks from the day it had been sent, it was missing still, I told Mary K. that it must have been lost. “They shall have it soon,” she said. “It is not lost, but delayed.” “Shall I make a duplicate for them?” “You must trust us.” “You are positive that it will arrive?” “Yes, it will.” It was delivered to Mrs. Gaylord the following day, April 16th. On one occasion I asked Mary K. about a woman for whom I had been requested to arrange an interview with a person on the next plane, but about whom I knew nothing whatever. “She is deterrent,” was the reply, and during the subsequent interview, for the first time since the beginning of this experience, I encountered an individual whose outlook and desire was limited to the narrowly personal. One of the most striking of these examples of specific information occurred on the night of Tuesday, April 2d, the day of the Senatorial elections. Cass said: “Ask Mary K. whether she will answer a specific, mundane question for me.” When she had written her name and indicated her willingness, he inquired: “Who was elected in Wisconsin to-day, Lenroot or Davies?” “Are you there?” I questioned, when no reply came. “Yes.”