—­I have here paused, deliberating whether I should proceed farther in my narrative.  But no; if any good is to be accomplished by these confessions, the reader must walk with me through the dark labyrinth which follows.  He must walk over what may be considered delicate ground, but he shall not be harmed.  One feature of the trance condition is too remarkable, too important in its consequences, to be overlooked.  It is a feature of which many Mediums are undoubtedly ignorant, the existence of which is not even suspected by thousands of honest Spiritualists.

Let me again anticipate the regular course of my narrative, and explain.  A suspension of the Will, when indulged in for any length of time, produces a suspension of that inward consciousness of good and evil which we call Conscience, and which can be actively exercised only through the medium of the Will.  The mental faculties and the moral perceptions lie down together in the same passive sleep.  The subject is, therefore, equally liable to receive impressions from the minds of others, and from their passions and lusts.  Besides this, the germs of all good and of all evil are implanted in the nature of every human being; and even when some appetite is buried in a crypt so deep that its existence is forgotten, let the warder be removed, and it will gradually work its way to the light.  Persons in the receptive condition which belongs to the trance may be surrounded by honest and pure-minded individuals, and receive no harmful impressions; they may even, if of a healthy spiritual temperament, resist for a time the aggressions of evil influences; but the final danger is always the same.  The state of the Medium, therefore, may be described as one in which the Will is passive, the Conscience passive, the outward senses partially (sometimes wholly) suspended, the mind helplessly subject to the operations of other minds, and the passions and desires released from all restraining influences.[8] I make the statement boldly, after long and careful reflection, and severe self-examination.

As I said before, I did not entirely lose my external consciousness, although it was very dim and dream-like.  On returning to the natural state, my recollection of what had occurred during the trance became equally dim; but I retained a general impression of the character of the possession.  I knew that some foreign influence—­the spirit of a dead poet, or hero, or saint, I then believed—­governed me for the time; that I gave utterance to thoughts unfamiliar to my mind in its conscious state; and that my own individuality was lost, or so disguised that I could no longer recognize it.  This very circumstance made the trance an indulgence, a spiritual intoxication, no less fascinating than that of the body, although accompanied by a similar reaction.  Yet, behind all, dimly evident to me, there was an element of terror.  There were times when, back of the influences which spoke with my voice, rose another,—­a vast, overwhelming, threatening power, the nature of which I could not grasp, but which I knew was evil.  Even when in my natural state, listening to the harsh utterances of Miss Fetters or the lofty spiritual philosophy of Mr. Stilton, I have felt, for a single second, the touch of an icy wind, accompanied by a sensation of unutterable dread.