When the clear bright sun was shining Then they took my cherished form And they bore it to the church yard To consign it to the worm
Well no matter that was only The clay dress your loved one wore God had robed her for an angel She had need of this no more
Though the tears fell fast and faster Yet you would not call me back Nay be glad her feet no longer Tread life's rough and thorny track
Yes be glad the father took her Took her whilst her heart was pure Oh be glad he did not leave her All life's trials to endure
Your friend has lost the Control I cannot say wether it will be possible to regain it now or no I find it hard work to get any hold at all.
(Each letter distinct, as a child would print the alphabet.)
Chief there cant come any answer the magnetic current is broken for want of power we go now but will come in your own wigwam
At the following séances I received slate writings repeatedly. Sometimes the slate would scarcely be in the Medium's hands before a message appeared, each time with the little pencil on top. I was told that I was an excellent Medium, that, if I cultivated the faculty, would soon myself be able to obtain these slate writings. I was also asked to prepare a slate secured in any way I wished, and had the promise that a message would be written within it. I acceded to the request and took a slate of my own, tied it up in every direction with twine, and put my private seal upon it in several places where I had knotted the string. This slate the Spirits could not overcome. I never received the promised message. I never even had the slate returned to me. After remaining in the Medium's possession for several months, she having changed her residence in the meantime, she told me the slate had disappeared and somehow must have gotten lost in moving. At any rate the slate had been spirited away somehow. I will here mention that at about the third or fourth sitting I asked permission to watch the slate while it was under the table, which was freely granted, but on this occasion, and whenever I did so, there were no results.
On one occasion we took the trouble to bring Mrs. Patterson to a room in the house of our departed friend. She was here among a small circle of intimate friends and members of the family, some inclined to belief and others skeptics. She failed utterly to obtain as much as even a scratch inside of the slates, although communications on paper came thick and fast. I may mention that on this occasion several persons sat with the slate continually in full view.