“Poppycock and moonshine!” was the unexpected response. “There is no such thing as a medium. No, sir; they get your money and—do you suppose that one of them could get you the invitation to come down here tonight? You are soon to enter the very doors of ghostdom, but not through the efforts of any medium. No, sir; they trade upon your sense of loss and sorrow when anyone of yours dies, and they foster and encourage your desire to penetrate the mystery of the future life. They get your money by fraud, working upon your best sentiments. They ought to be keelhauled, and should be if I had my way. I'd string them to the yardarm and whack them with a rope’s end. If the tie that bound you to anyone you loved is broken by death there is no third party that can come and for a certain sum in cash become the medium of communication between you, and I say, lick the man that tells you different. You are getting this straight from a real ghost. In my warmth I had almost forgotten that you asked if we who are dead dislike to hear anyone say the word Dead. Quite the contrary, for we are dead and it would be very silly to try to disguise the fact, and we do not try to down here. Fact is truth and truth governs down here. Dead we are and dead we stay, and after all I am not sure that we are not quite as well, and sometimes better off, than when alive. If we miss some things we escape others. Well, come on; but before we go let me say that the Trinity ghosts are the hosts tonight and they feel themselves the most aristocratic ghosts in the land, so I wished to caution you so that you would avoid hurting anyone’s feelings by seeming to doubt it.” “I shall be very careful, sir, and hope you will be near enough to forewarn me of any possible mistake. I assure you that I appreciate this distinguished honor more than I can say. But, I should like to ask if any of the Vanderbilts will be here tonight?”