Leaves From The Book Of Memory Parts 1 to 5

Leaves from the Book of Memory (2)



by Ernest W. Oaten (former Editor of Two Worlds)

Corona, Corona!

Thousands of people will be familiar with the name of John Sloan, of Glasgow, a most versatile medium, who is the central figure of that fine book by J. Arthur Findlay, On the Edge of the Etheric.

I was privileged to have several sittings with John, and cherish happy memories of a direct conversation I had on one occasion with Dr Alfred Russell Wallace, O.M.

The trumpet was at the other end of a large circle of some twenty sitters when, immediately behind me, I heard a voice calling my name. It proved to be the famous Dr Alfred Russell Wallace.

He spoke to me concerning my public work, and when questioned showed a complete familiarity with correspondence which had passed between us when he lived at Wimborne.

The séance ended, we adjourned to another room while Mrs Sloan made some coffee. Some of the sitters had departed, but a few of us still remained and sat round the fire chatting.

When coffee was served William Jeffries remarked, “There is only one thing needed to complete a pleasant evening.”

“What’s that?” asked Galloway.

“A good cigar!”

In a few seconds Sloan was under control and the voice of ‘Whitey” said, “Just dim the lights and wait a minute or two, and I will see what I can do.”

In a few minutes there dropped at the feet of Mr Jeffries a cigar, with a glowing lighted end. ‘There you are, Jeffries,” said “Whitey”, and he picked it up, wiped the end with his handkerchief, put it in his mouth and began to puff.

“Where did you get it, Whitey?” said I. And the reply sent us into fits of laughter.

“A fellow was walking along George Square smoking it, and I took it from his mouth and brought it here. He is still looking for it.”

We were, of course, unable to verify that statement, though the house was only a few hundred yards from George Square. But I have often found myself smiling at the discomfiture of a man who lost a cigar from his mouth and looked for it in vain.

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When John King Spoke

One of the most striking instances of the direct voice I ever heard was during a visit to Cecil Husk, the famous materialization medium.

Husk was confined to his bed for six years before his transition.

In the month of May 1920, I was one of the party who called to celebrate his 73rd birthday.

The party consisted of Mrs Etta Duffas, who had made herself responsible for soothing the last years of Mr Husk’s life, Mr David Gow, then editor of Light, Mr John Lewis, editor of the Psychic Gazette and myself.

We found Husk in bed, a shrunken form, with a full growth of grey beard. He lay restfully between the sheets, his shrunken cheeks testifying to the long suffering he had borne.

His twisted hand was stretched out towards us and there, upon his left wrist, could be seen the iron ring placed there during a séance with Dr Wyld. Despite his emaciated condition it was still impossible to
take off that ring.

He was weak and spent, but after a little stimulant he expressed his appreciation of the kindness of his many friends, and especially of Mrs Duffas.

He still preserved his clairvoyance and clairaudience, and told us of the presence of Dr. Bowie, of “Joey” and “John King,” who was delighted to think that the little party had thought of his medium on his birthday.

Cecil Husk, with a smile on his face, told us he saw Katie King, and she told him that she had met Sir William Crookes, who had expressed his ideas of the great purpose which Spiritualism had in the world.

Mr Husk said that he would presently have the pleasure of talking face to face with his spirit friends and looked forward to it with great pleasure. Then he partially raised himself in bed and burst into song.

He was, at one time, with the Carl Rosa Opera Company. Though his voice had lost much of its timbre, his notes and phrasing still gave evidence of the trained artist.

He sung to us one verse of “Scots wha’hae wi’ Wallace bled!” and then sank exhausted on his pillow, and dropped off to sleep.

The little company proceeded to steal away. We passed down the stairs.

I was the last, some of them had reached the hall but I was still on the stairs when the heavy booming voice of “John King” rang through the house.

It was broad daylight. The voice was one of the most powerful I have ever heard, a heavy bass. He said, “I thank you very much for coming to see my faithful medium. Thank you, my friends,”

As soon as the voice was heard, I rushed back into the room. I was standing by his bedside before the voice ceased. Cecil Husk was lying peaceful, and sound asleep.

But that voice was so powerful that the taxi driver had heard it in the street.

A few months later Cecil Husk passed away.

The Swinging Picture

At theInternational Congress (1937), I hadthe pleasure of a sitting for the direct voice with Mrs McCallum.

One of the voices announced, “I am John Stoddard, of Falkirk.” I greeted him, and expressed my pleasure at meeting him again.

In a desire to test his identity, I asked, “Where did I meet you last?” “I communicated with you at a séance some months ago.”

“Yes,” I said, “but where did we last meet in the flesh?” to which the reply was, “I last met you at a District Council meeting at Falkirk.”

I believe this was the last time I actually met John Stoddard some sixteen years before. I questioned him by asking, “Do you remember a meeting at Swords Wynd?”

“Oh yes”, he replied. “I remember, there was a roar and a shout.”

I was unable to elicit any further details, but the incident stands out in my memory.

I was addressing a public meeting, with John Stoddard in the chair. It was a long room and the wall on my left contained three windows.

In the middle of my address I stretched out my left hand to emphasise a point, when one of the large pictures on the wall between windows some twenty feet away from me, began violently swaying to and fro.

Gradually the attention of the audience was drawn to the phenomenon. It was well above the heads of the people.

No-one was within a foot or eighteen inches of the picture, but it still continued to swing to and fro. The
audience rose and stared, and then broke into a roar, so much so that I had to pause.

Pointing to the wall, I calmly said, “Will you kindly stop that?” The picture stopped instantly, and the meeting continued.

I can only presume that there must have been someone sitting near the picture who was a powerful physical medium, and some humorist on the other side of life had taken advantage of his opportunity.

Spirit Lights

Materialised lights are peculiar structures, which are difficult to explain, and impossible to explain away.

Some years ago, while sitting with Walter Jeune, I devoted a lot of time to observing them, and as far as possible experimenting with them.

They constitute one of the few phases of phenomena for which darkness is an advantage to the observer.

I have seen them in good light, but they then appear as smoky discs, the external rim of which it is difficult to determine.

In some of my sittings with one medium, these lights have appeared six and seven at a time, varying from points of light the size of a pea, to luminous bodies four or five inches in diameter. When sitting with Mr Jeune, these had definite shape, and floated around in space.

They would take any position we asked them to. Now on the floor, now on the ceiling, now over a certain picture, and yet again on the window. They were decidedly under intelligent control.

There seemed to be no radiation of light from them. They were just self-luminous, for I noticed that when I asked them to be carried in front of a picture, there was insufficient light to discern the subject of the picture.

On several occasions I have asked that one of the lights be placed in my open hands. I closed my fingers round it, and I declare that it felt as solid as a cricket ball.

There was no sense either of heat or cold. They seemed the normal temperature of my hand. Closing my fingers around one, I would say, “I am not going to loose my hold,” when the light would gradually float away as though it dematerialised through my hand without losing its shape or luminosity. It is a most peculiar phenomenon.

Sir William Crookes’ description is an admirable one. He says, “I have seen a solid, self-luminous body, the size and about the shape of a turkey’s egg, float noiselessly about the room … not only is science unable to explain them, but unable to produce anything like them.”

I think the largest lights I have seen were with Mrs Duncan, in a series of séances held some years ago in Manchester.

Lights were produced at a number of successive séances, each one larger than the last, until on the final night the light was like a huge Chinese lantern, probably the size of a football.

It was full of opalescent colours, which seemed to be in continual motion, the colours rolling over and over upon one another in ever-changing patterns, and yet they appeared to emit no light. They were just self-luminous bodies.

An interesting series of experiments could be carried out with a suitable medium for the examination of these lights. They may be ectoplasmic, and yet there are comparatively few cases on record of ectoplasm being self-luminous.

In the article about Cecil Husk, above, reference is made to a ring on his wrist.

Here is the story of that ring:

One phenomenon that was often produced through Cecil's mediumship was the passing of matter through matter; one of the more unusual features of this activity was the placing of a ring around his wrist. Dr George Wyld provided an oval ring that was so designed that it was too small to be fitted on the wrist by passing it over the medium's hand. Wyld held Cecil's hand and then found the ring had been placed on Cecil's wrist; he subsequently produced a yet smaller ring of solid iron, and once again, while Cecil's left hand was held, the ring was found to have been placed on his wrist.

Cecil was examined by William Crookes, and three others, on 17 April 1885; after careful measurements were taken, it was noted that the internal circumference of the ring was 182.5mm, while the widest part of Cecil's hand, even after 'troughing', was 194mm. However, their conclusion was only that, 'we do not consider these conditions to be those best adapted', and 'we cannot infer that it is impossible that the ring should have come into the position in which we found it by known natural forces'. In sum, this particular exercise did not produce any definite judgement.

In old age, Cecil recorded how, when the feat was accomplished, he 'felt a shock go through my arm, and immediately felt the coldness of the ring encircling my wrist'. He went on to relate how 'I suppose I must have had my arm tugged and pulled at by hundreds of people...who tried to take the ring off, but there was no way of moving it. I am very much thinner now than I was, but it still cannot be taken off'. Cecil wore the ring until he died and indeed, according to Boddington, the ring, 'remained to his dying day a puzzle to conjurers and scientists alike'.

by Ernest W. Oaten

Wonderful Perfumes

The production of perfumes, which appeal to the nostrils, is not an uncommon experience in the séance room, but it is not often that perfumes are obtained in liquid and tangible form.

One of the most remarkable mediums for this class of phenomena was the late Mr. H. T. Batten, of Bolton, Lancs., who went to Canada, and passed away in Toronto a few years ago.

I had the pleasure of sitting with Harry on a number of occasions. He would pass into the trance state, and his guide would say that he was going to produce perfumes.

The sitters were free to name any perfume they cared to. The entranced medium sat at a table and his hands would start in motion, thumping and slapping the table from time to time and going through motions as though he was gathering, something from the air — mixing or kneading an invisible substance on the table.

This quaint conduct would go on for two or three minutes, of course all in fair light.

Then he would ask for a handkerchief.

The perfume rolled from his hands as though it were a form of perspiration. “Jockey Club”, “Lily of the Valley”, “Musk”, “Wallflower”, ‘White Rose” - any perfume you asked for was produced in three or four minutes.

If these had been secreted before the séance and merely produced in response to requests, the medium would have had to have, literally, a storehouse of innumerable scents.

With this idea in my mind, on one occasion I asked for “onions,” thinking that no previous preparation would have included such a perfume in any repertoire.

But sure enough the scent of onions was forthcoming I used to go to the séances armed with six or eight or more handkerchiefs.

All of them would be saturated until they were actually wet with perfume — perfume that was so strong that it persisted for weeks, even after repeated washings of the fabric. One peculiarity was that scents would follow one another in rapid succession.

Yet, on the following day, as the various handkerchiefs showed, each perfume was distinctly itself,

Another medium in whose presence perfumes are obtainable, is Mrs Platt, of Oldham.

In her case the séance is generally a darkened one. On several occasions I have sat next to her in the séance room. Her hand has been stretched out to me and I have held it, with my fingers in the palm of the hand.

The hand has been perfectly dry, and yet while my fingers were still in contact perfumes have oozed out of the skin, or been deposited, until it became a veritable stream.

In this case, too, there is often a choice of perfumes offered to the sitters, one or two of them being rare perfumes of an oriental type, which, as far as I can discover, are quite original and would be difficult to imitate.

A few years ago, efforts were made to catch in liquid form some of this perfume. Five or six different varieties were secured, some of which are still retained at the Britten Memorial Institute in closely sealed vials.

Whether these perfumes are actually apported or whether they are extracted from the medium’s body, I have never been able to discover, but the flow is fairly copious.

I have had as many as six handkerchiefs saturated in one evening when sittingwith Mrs Platt.

Such phenomena may not be evidence of spirit identity, but they are evidence of the production of material by means that are outside human knowledge.

Anointing With Oil

On reviving my memories of past events that may be of interest, I recall my attendance at a séance held at the house of Mr Thompson, at Mount Florida, Glasgow.

It was held on a Sunday evening, after the public services. A small company of us had really assembled for supper, but someone suggested a séance.

A lady present was suffering from a heavy bronchial affection, and was coughing badly. One of the mediums there, Mrs McLean, was known as a clairvoyant and healer, and was drawn to the sufferer.

Passing under control, she began to stroke the chest. (We were, of course, sitting in full light.) Then she paused and held out her right hand.

Slowly in the palm of the hand there formed a viscid, oily deposit of a smoky grey colour, and of strong aromatic perfume.

There was about a tablespoonful, and this was gently rubbed into the chest. A dozen times at least the hand was held out, and each time it was filled with this peculiar oily substance.

I took the precaution of taking my handkerchief and wiping the hand quite dry on several occasions, but, under my very eyes, there oozed up this strange liquid.

In the course of ten minutes or more the breathing of the patient had considerably improved, and by the close of the séance her breathing was quite normal, and the distressing cough had ceased.

Meeting the lady some months later I was told that there had been no return of the bronchitis, from which she had suffered intermittently for a number of years.

Healing Oils

Mrs Mann, Surrey Road, Bournemouth, writes me concerning the production of healing oils, which I mentioned in The Two Worlds recently: “At the Branksome branch of the Ashley Road Christian Spiritualists’ Church, Mrs Hoare is doing very successful healing work directed from the other side of life by the late Mr Macbeth Bain. He brings her different-coloured oils of an aromatic character with which to anoint the patients, and the oil is distinctly seen in broad daylight oozing out of her hands, just as described by Mr Oaten in the case of Mrs McLean, of Glasgow.”

The mention of Mr Macbeth Bain reminds me of an incident which happened over thirty years ago. I went over from Portsmouth to visit Macbeth Bain, who was staying at Ventnor, but when I called at the boarding house he was out. I decided to wait for him.

Presently he came limping in. His trousers were tucked up to his knees, his feet bare, and the big toe of the right foot was badly crushed and bleeding.

He told me that he had been walking barefoot amongst the rocks when a large stone had rolled down and crushed his toe.

The toe had burst on either side of the nail, and was badly pulped. I called for hot water and washed it,and was anxious to dress it, but this he would not allow.

“Oh, no, it will heal of itself,” he said.

He threw himself down in an armchair his right leg resting over the arm, so that the foot was in full view.

We entered into conversation, and as I talked to him I saw a green salve gradually deposited on the toe. It looked very much like Zambuk, and was of the consistency of ointment.

He watched and smiled. I watched and wondered. The whole toe became covered with the substance, and Bain claimed it had soothed him and stopped the pain.

The fact is that two days later he had his boot on and visited me in Portsmouth.

Leaves from the Book of Memory (4)

by Ernest W. Oaten

A KNOTTY PROBLEM

ONE OF THE most puzzling displays of physical phenomena I ever met was that manifested by young Emrys Pugh, of South Wales. I believe he is now in South Africa, but I remember on one of my South Wales tours being invited to sit with him at Caerau.

We met in a miner’s cottage, in a large kitchen, with a scullery about seven feet square, opening off it. There were about sixteen of us present, and the room was fully lighted.

Young Pugh was a lad of about eighteen. He was seated in a Windsor armchair, and we were invited to tie him with twelve yards of rope. I deputed the job to two sailors, and when they had completed their task I used a reel of coloured cotton to intertwine in the knots.

The sailors made notes on paper of the name of each knot which had been used, and their respective positions.

We were then asked to carry Pugh into the scullery, and put the chair upon the table which stood in the centre. This was done. All instructions came through Mr Pugh, in trance.

We were asked to leave the scullery and retire. The circle retired to the kitchen, but with the door open we could clearly see Pugh roped in his chair upon the table.

I was then asked to close the door for a few seconds, and to reopen it when I heard raps. I stood at the door with my hand on the handle, closed the door, and held my watch in my other hand.

In fifteen seconds there were raps. I threw the door open and we rushed in. The ropes were lying in a heap on the floor still knotted, and Emrys Pugh was sitting free in his chair.

Again we were asked to retire. I held the door closed, this time for forty seconds, and when I again entered the room Pugh was roped in his chair.

I called the men who had tied him — every knot was in its exact position. He was securely fastened. The cotton was still intertwined in the knots, and, had I not seen the rope a few moments before on the floor, I would have sworn that they had not been disturbed.

A third time we were asked to retire, and again I took my stand at the door. Within half a minute raps sounded, and we rushed into the scullery. The chair was deposited on the floor. Mr Pugh was lying full length on the table asleep, while the rope was carefully coiled on the floor in true sailor fashion.

The men who had done the tying agreed that it would have taken at least five minutes for them to undo those knots. Those are the bare facts, carefully observed and tabulated, and one may well ask, “Is the roping of a physical medium any evidence of his liberty being restricted?”

INDEPENDENT WRITING

IN THE EARLY DAYS of my investigations, I spent a long time in my home circle experimenting with the planchette. Messages were very mixed — some of them were false, some of them true, and some partly true and partly false.

But after several years of sitting, the use of a planchette became very easy, and we got to know pretty intimately the people who were communicating. I tried for many months to get a planchette to move without anyone’s hands being actually placed upon it.

I made a large pad, similar to a blotting pad, with leather corners, but fitted with drawing paper instead of blotting paper. I stood the planchette on the paper, with a book resting upon it to give sufficient weight to cause the black lead to mark.

We would then place our hands upon the table, taking care not to touch the pad, so that the planchette would be a foot to eighteen inches from anyone’s hands.

I have seen that planchette scribble for ten or twenty minutes without a break (except to change the paper), and I can say that when it moved thus independently I never had a message that was not reliable.

Autograph signatures of deceased persons have come by the score, and I have shown some of them to bank managers, who have told me that had not the writers been dead they would have passed the signatures.

I never hear of experiments of this kind nowadays, and I am afraid there is too great a tendency for investigators to stick to the beaten track, rather than think out new methods of testing phenomena.

VICARIOUS MEDIUMSHIP

PSYCHIC PHENOMENA present many problems, and I have frequently wondered how far mediumship is temporarily transferable.

In the early days of my mediumistic career I gained some small reputation as a physical medium. I had no difficulty when sitting with any half a dozen people, chosen at random, in getting independent raps and independent levitations; and even today I have very little difficulty in getting evidential messages, correct names, dates, addresses, and exact details through table-tilts.

But in the light of later experiences I have many times found myself wondering how far the remarkable physical phenomena, which occasionally occurred in my presence, were due to the fact that I was sitting at the time, though on a different night, with Walter Jeune, certainly the finest physical medium I have ever known.

Some years ago I attended a series of séances with John Taylor, the Lancashire physical medium. One of the peculiarities of John’s medium- ship was that sitting in a red light, and while in trance, he could slap his hand on the table and long lines of light, like electric sparks, would flow out from his fingers. I have seen them twelve and eighteen inches in length.

Sitting next to him on one occasion at Attercliffe, his guide turned to me and said, “You could do that.” So of course I tried, but failed!

Catching hold of my wrist he slapped my hand upon the table, and the lights flashed out exactly as they did from his own hand.

Of course I put it down to the fact that he had hold of my wrist, but the fact is that for a few days after that, without any contact with him, I was able to produce these flashes of light. It gradually faded away.

A few years ago I had a couple of sittings with Tom Tyrell, who will be known by the old brigade as probably the finest clairvoyant this country ever produced.

Tom’s descriptions of spirit-people were invariably accompanied by names, the addresses at which they lived, the dates of their birth, death, and so forth, and it is a peculiar thing that for several days after a sitting with Tom Tyrell I had no difficulty whatever in giving clairvoyant descriptions accompanied by just such evidential details as he used to obtain. The power lasted a few days and then gradually petered out.

I have had somewhat the same experience in psychic photography with Mr Hope, at Crewe. The possibility of transferring such powers to another person creates a strong body of evidence for the possession by mediums of the powers thus transferred.

Experienced Spiritualists will not need to be told that sitting with a strong medium for any phase of phenomena very often stimulates that type of mediumship within themselves.

Thus, Mr Trefor Davies developed his physical mediumship as a result of regularly sitting with Evan Powell, one of the finest materializing mediums in the country. I recently gave publicity to Mr Webber, and here is another connection.

He has been sitting with Will Thomas, who was well known all over the country a few years ago as a medium for physical phenomena.

I believe Miss Scoggins, of Brighton, started transfiguration mediumship as a result of sittings with Mrs Bullock, In these cases it may be that there is a natural form of mediumship within the sitters, and that its development is due to spirit guides taking counsel one with another and learning one another’s
methods, but I have often wondered how far psychic power is transferable from one individual to another where there is close contact and deep sympathy over a period.

In my early days I spent a lot of time sitting at a table, and obtaining messages by means of table tilts.

Perhaps I was fortunate, but after forty-five years of Spiritualistic experience, I can say that I have received more convincing evidences by this means than by any other.

Even today, if I want exact information in the shape of full names, addresses, dates, etc., it is upon the table I rely, and in all the years I have very seldom known the table mislead me.

I have generally sat with other members of my family, and it may well be that there is a special type of psychic power which makes some folk successful with the table while others are consistently unsuccessful.

I am always trying to devise new experiments, for while the spirit people are often clever in initiating types of evidence, I have always recognised that spirit communion is a co-operative affair, and one can often suggest methods and ideas, which are eagerly accepted at the other end.

Admin wrote:Wonderful stuff Z thanks very much.

People can find more about Earnest Oaten at the excellent Psypioneer
http://www.woodlandway.org/PDF/2.3%20PSYPIONEERFoundedbyLesliePrice.pdf

Also on Psypioneer you will note the availability of this excellent series on CD http://www.woodlandway.org/PDF/PP5.4April09..pdf

Leaves from the Book of Memory (5)
by zerdini on Wed 24 Jun 2009 - 1:05

.Leaves from the Book of Memory (5)

By Ernest W. Oaten

The Rolling Table

I had been several times to the B…… Congregational Church Bible Class to talk on Spiritualism, and one Bank Holiday Sunday the Secretary came round to tell me that the speaker had disappointed them.

There would surely be a small attendance owing to the holiday, but he would be glad if I would come round and talk to them. I had just finished lunch, but I went.

I had been talking to the class for about five or ten minutes with an audience of about probably twenty, when one smart lad suggested, “Mr. Oaten, can’t we have some demonstration?”

“Why not — have you got a small table?” A small gipsy table of light weight and with three crossed legs was produced.

I selected four of the most likely lads, and sat them at the table, taking care not to touch it myself. I called upon certain guides for assistance, and in a few moments the table was rocking regularly.

The company were frankly astonished, and looked at each of the four sitters in turn, imagining of course, that one of them was pushing it. By gradual elimination, I got three pairs of hands removed from the table, until only one pair remained.

The table continued rocking. “Ah,” said I, “now if anyone’s pushing it, we know who it is.” The astonished individual assured us with many protestations that his hands were lightly resting upon the table, and he was doing no pushing.

In the course of an hour that table moved for seven of them, with only one pair of hands on it.

Each of them was satisfied that it moved of its own volition. Then I got four of them at the table again, and in obedience to my request the table tilted until its edge rested on the floor, and then stood upright again. This was rapidly repeated half a dozen times.

I then asked that the table be laid on the floor, with two legs and the edge resting thereon, and requested that the legs be lifted up.

Four pairs of hands were lightly touching the tabletop, but the legs were lifted from the floor so that it rested on its edge.

The whole company was amazed. Whether some practical joker then seized the control of table, I could only surmise, but it started rolling like a hoop, while four frenzied individuals tried to keep their hands in contact with its surface, and chased it round the room!

Pandemonium soon broke out, and if the Minister of the Church had come into the Bible Class just at that moment he would have wondered whether they had all gone mad.

Presently quietude was once more established. The table stood on its three legs. It was then suggested that we should get to know the identity of the person moving the table, but I thought they had had enough for one day, so I called attention to the time, and bade them adieu.

Whether they ever tried further table experiments I don’t know. Whether the conditions of the Bible Class room added some strength to the phenomena I don’t know, but we certainly had a display that afternoon of some phenomena that could not have been wilfully produced by anyone present.

The Scent Bottle

I had several remarkable experiences with Mrs Truman, but one of the most puzzling cases in my experience was one received at the house of a friend with this same medium.
There were about fourteen of us present, and after several apports had been produced, Mr Vernon, one of the sitters, said, “Tommy, you have never been near my house, and I have never met your medium until tonight.

Do you think you could go to my house and bring something from there?” Tommy replied. “I don’t know, but I am always willing to try. Will you concentrate your mind upon your house, so as to give me a line of communication?”

For some few moments we sat in silence, and then suddenly came the strong smell of a beautiful perfume, which filled the whole room. Everyone remarked upon the fascination and fragrance of the scent. We asked where it came from.

Tommy was very apologetic, and said, “I am sorry, Mr. Vernon, I have been to your house, and I tried to bring a bottle of scent, and I am afraid I have upset it.” “Where did you get it, Tommy?” “Well, I found a bottle of scent in the top drawer of a chest of drawers in your bedroom, and I tried to bring it with me, but I am afraid that I have taken out the cork and spilt the scent. I am very sorry.”

“Well” said Mr. Vernon, “I did give my wife a present of a bottle of perfume, but where she put it I don’t know.

“Oh,” said Tommy, “it is in the top drawer in a chest of drawers, but if I could not bring the bottle I have brought the scent. A fact, which was very evident to the nostrils of everyone present.

Now Vernon lived some two miles away. No one present at the séance had ever been in his house. I doubt if anyone there knew where he lived, for he was quite a casual visitor. When, however, he returned home, he went up to his bedroom, taking with him a witness, and there in the top drawer of the chest of drawers was a bottle of “ashes of roses.” The cork had been extracted, the bottle was lying on its side, and the scent had flowed all over the drawer.

What has puzzled me through the years is how they brought the scent of the perfume while leaving the bottle, cork, and apparently the material intact in the drawer?

Admin wrote:Hi Z,

I realise that, thank you for publishing this too but it is well worth building a broader picture of everyone who has achieved much in our past. If we do not then we deny ourselves teh ability to talk coherently to those who would deny the reality of our claims. We also risk either repeating the mistakes of the past or failing to use the knowledge gained to build upon.

The fulls tory can be found here http://www.medium2000.org/The%20Man%20with%20A%20Vision.htm