with those whom the Truth has made free.  You are the heralds of the great day; you have climbed from sphere to sphere, until now you stand near the fountains of light.  But it is not enough that you see:  your lives must reflect the light.  The inward vision is for you, but the outward manifestation thereof is for the souls of others.  Fulfil the harmonies in the flesh.  Be the living music, not the silent instruments.”

There was more, much more of this,—­a plenitude of eloquent sound, which seems to embody sublime ideas, but which, carefully examined, contains no more palpable substance than sea-froth.  If the reader will take the trouble to read an “Epic of the Starry Heavens,” the production of a Spiritual Medium, he will find several hundred pages of the same character.  But, by degrees, the revelation descended to details, and assumed a personal application.  “In you, in all of you, the spiritual harmonies are still violated,” was the conclusion.  “You, Abijah Stilton, who are chosen to hold up the light of truth to the world, require that a transparent soul, capable of transmitting that light to you, should be allied to yours.  She who is called your wife is a clouded lens; she can receive the light only through John——­, who is her true spiritual husband, as Abby Fetters is your true spiritual wife!”

I was here conscious of a sudden cessation of the influence which forced me to speak, and stopped.  The members of the circle opposite to me—­the host, his wife, neighbor, and old Mr. Fetters—­were silent, but their faces exhibited more satisfaction than astonishment.  My eye fell upon Mrs. Stilton.  Her face was pale, her eyes widely opened, and her lips dropped apart, with a stunned, bewildered expression.  It was the blank face of a woman walking in her sleep.  These observations were accomplished in an instant; for Miss Fetters, suddenly possessed with the spirit of Black Hawk, sprang upon her feet.  “Ugh! ugh!” she exclaimed, in a deep, harsh voice, “where’s the pale-face?  Black Hawk, he like him,—­he love him much!”—­and therewith threw her arms around Stilton, fairly lifting him off his feet.  “Ugh! fire-water for Black Hawk!—­big Injun drink!”—­and she tossed off a tumbler of brandy.  By this time I had wholly recovered my consciousness, but remained silent, stupefied by the extraordinary scene.

Presently Miss Fetters became more quiet, and the possession left her.  “My friends,” said Stilton, in his cold, unmoved voice, “I feel that the spirit has spoken truly.  We must obey our spiritual affinities, or our great and glorious mission will be unfulfilled.  Let us rather rejoice that we have been selected as the instruments to do this work.  Come to me, Abby; and you, Rachel, remember that our harmony is not disturbed, but only made more complete.”

“Abijah!” exclaimed Mrs. Stilton, with a pitiful cry, while the tears burst hot and fast from her eyes; “dear husband, what does this mean?  Oh, don’t tell me that I’m to be cast off!  You promised to love me and care for me, Abijah!  I’m not bright, I know, but I’ll try to understand you; indeed I will!  Oh, don’t be so cruel!—­don’t”——­And the poor creature’s voice completely gave way.