It is an amazing experience!... To sit all alone here and have that foolish toy move firmly and definitely under my hands, write things I have to puzzle out, sign names of persons who are what we call “dead,” and beg me to send messages to those they love—all this is startling and deeply impressive. Deeply moving. * * * * * The next day I joined Cass at Atlantic City. He had never seen a planchette used, and was much interested in the whole matter. In the evening we experimented, and “Mary Kendal” was written at once. He exclaimed, “God bless you, Mary Kendal!” “God bless you, too. Tell Manse I love him. Don’t fail to tell him that.” During all the preceding days this had been her constant plea. Repeatedly I assured her that I had told him, and as often she urged, “Tell him again.” Then came a strong, brisk movement, to and fro, for a space of about five inches. I asked if this were Frederick, and received an affirmative answer, after which planchette ran about, as if in uncontrollable excitement, presently pausing to write: “You are a trump!” We laughed, and he added, “You bet!” As we had never known Frederick, and were unaware at that time of the continuance of what some one familiar with this experience has defined as “the subtleties of personality,” this enthusiastic use of slang was startling. When I asked if he had thought I would fail him, he replied, “No, but I was afraid Mother would not come.” [The next day Mrs. Gaylord told me that when Frederick begged me, on Wednesday, to send her a message about coming at once, she had almost decided to postpone her visit until after our return to New York.] More running about followed, during which Cass said that it was a pity to obliterate the earlier messages in that way. Planchette then swung back to a clear space and wrote clearly, “Mother is coming!” Beneath this, the bow-knot flourish we have since learned to associate with Frederick. “You are a brick!” was a later comment. When Cass said he had thought the last word would be friend, Frederick concluded: “Friend, too. Thank you a million times.” * * * * * An interesting, but rather confusing, feature of these earlier communications was the constant interruption by Annie Manning. On all occasions, frequently even breaking into messages from some other person, she wrote her name and her one request,“Tell Manning.” During this period, also, I repeatedly asked Frederick to give me a message for his father, and was unable to account for his invariable refusal. Once, I asked Mary Kendal if she had no message for me, personally, and she returned, “Yes, believe,” which seemed, at the moment, somewhat cryptic, though the relation of my faith to the full development of this intercourse was afterward explained.