Another of the lions of Boston which I determined to witness, if possible, was “spirit-rapping.”  A friend undertook the arrangement for me; but so fully were the hours of the exhibitor taken up, that it was five days before we could obtain a spare hour.  At length the time arrived, and, fortified with a good dinner and a skinful of “Mumm Cabinet,” we proceeded to the witch’s den.  The witch was a clean and decent-looking girl about twenty, rather thin, and apparently very exhausted; gradually a party of ten assembled, and we gathered round the witch’s table.  The majority were ladies—­those adorers of the marvellous!  The names of friends were called for; the ladies took the alphabet, and running over it with the point of a pencil, the spirit rapped as the wished-for letter was reached.  John Davis was soon spelt, each letter probably having been indicated by the tremulous touch of affectionate hope.  Harriet Mercer was then rapped out by the obliging spirit.  The pencil and the alphabet were then handed to me, and the spirit being asked if it would answer my inquiries, and a most satisfactory “Yes” being rapped out, I proceeded to put its powers to the test.  I concentrated my thoughts upon a Mr. L——­ and his shop in Fleet-street, with both of which being thoroughly familiar I had no difficulty in fixing my attention upon them.  The pencil was put in motion, powerful rappings were heard as it touched the D. I kept my gravity, and went on again and again, till the name of the illustrious duke, whose death the civilized world was then deploring with every token of respect, was fully spelt out.  The witch was in despair; she tried again and again to summon the rebellious spirit, but it would not come.  At last, a gentleman present, and who evidently was an habitue of the witch’s den, proposed that the refractory spirit should be asked if any of the company were objectionable to it.  This being done, a rattling “Yes” came forth, upon which each person asked in succession, “Am I objectionable to you?” There was a dead silence until it came to my friend and myself, to each of whom it gave a most rappingly emphatic “Yes.”  Accordingly, we rose and left the field to those whose greater gullibility rendered them more plastic objects for working upon.  Never in my life did I witness greater humbug; and yet so intense was the anxiety of the Boston public to witness the miracle, that during all the day and half the night the spirit was being invoked by the witch, into whose pockets were pouring the dollars of thousands of greater gabies than myself, for many went away believers, receiving the first germs of impressions which led them to a Lunatic Asylum, or an early grave, as various statistics in America prove most painfully.