“Sure! His wife was a strongly developed medium living in London, England. One day, while in a trance, the Professor, here in the United States, was made cognizant of the existence of this lady by spirit agency, and instructed to write to her, which he did. It seems she had received a communication concerning him at about the same time and in the same manner, with the same instructions, which she also followed. The two letters reached their destinations simultaneously, and each person, with the other’s letter in hand, could summon the writer’s materialized spirit before him. In this way they communicated with each other at will, and finally the lady embarked for this country at his request. He was kept daily informed as to her whereabouts, and when she arrived at New York he was there to meet her, and they were married speedily, only one letter from each having passed between them, and yet each was well acquainted with the past history of the other.” “Impossible! You must be very credulous, Donald, to believe such a story as that.” “Quite convenient, wasn’t it? If the black powers would deal as kindly with me I should not long remain a bachelor. This knowing to a certainty all about the lady of one’s choice would remove the fear of flying into the dangers we know not of. One could be certain then if she did up her hair on curl-papers.” And Donald glanced significantly at Lissa’s shining ringlets. “Surely, you don’t pretend to believe such a preposterous story, Donald,” she said, laughing. “We have the Professor and his wife to testify to it, neither one ever known to l—prevaricate; and in the mouths of two witnesses the truth shall be affirmed,” misquoted Donald. “At any rate one story is good until another is told.” “They must be a pair of charlatans, and I don’t think I care to make their acquaintance.” “I suspect you begin to fear them. There is no telling what they may discover,” Donald said with mock gravity. “But here comes the redoubtable hero himself. All hail, ye Prince of Darkness, hail!” he continued in a sepulchral voice, as a step was heard outside the door. A moment later the Professor entered the apartment. Melissa had time, while he greeted the head of the family, to note that he was a medium-sized, wiry-looking man, of about forty, with very long red hair hanging to his shoulders, and bristling whiskers of the same color. His lower jaw was prominent and his ears were flattened very close to his head. But his most remarkable feature was a pair of keen gray eyes, which gleamed restlessly from under rather overhanging brows. When presented to Lissa he fixed his eyes upon her in a way that caused her to suppress a shudder, and regarded her steadily for a moment, then, still holding her by the hand, which she would gladly have withdrawn, he said: “You look like your mother, Mrs. Bartram, except that she has blue eyes. She has a scar on her left wrist, made in a peculiar manner.”