He now took a sheet of paper from a tablet, and drew five straight lines across it, spacing the sheet into six spaces about equal.  Next taking my hand, and looking earnestly into my face, he said:  “Promise me that if I succeed, you will not make light of this.  Promise me, for this is very sacred to me.”  I did so.  He now directed me to write names in the spaces on the sheet, any names I pleased, writing but one name in each space.  All the names were to be of living or fictitious persons except one, this one to be the name of some one I had known who was then dead.  He said, “Be fair with me, and I will scratch out the dead person’s name.”  These were his exact words, therefore I in no way tried to hide my writing from him, although he stood at a distance and did not appear to watch me.  I took a pencil and began writing the names; being unprepared I had to think of the names I wished to write.  I desired to select names of persons living at a distance, so that he could in no possible manner know them.  While I was writing he talked incessantly, which in spite of myself divided my attention.  At the same time he kept urging me to write, and immediately after urging me, would begin talking rapidly on some spiritualistic subject.  I remember saying, “You must give me time to think.”  I thought I used great care, so as to write each name with the same precision, and tried to betray no emotion when writing the dead person’s name.  I selected the name “Cora Holt” for the dead person’s name.  This was the name of an aunt who had died in another State.

As soon as I had written the names he asked me to cut them apart into slips, having one name on each slip.  Now here I do not remember whether he folded them himself, or had me help, as I was not expecting them to be folded.  However, we folded each one into a billet with the writing inside.

He now directed me to place them in a hat, and to hold the hat under the table, take out the billets one at a time, and throw them on the table top.  This I did while he stood with his right arm extended toward the table and about one foot above it.  After I had thrown a few billets on the table, as I threw the next one, I heard three loud distinct raps.  He said, “There, that’s the one that is dead.  Open it and see if I am right, but do not let me see it.  Fold it up again and place it in your pocket.”  I opened the billet.  I did not know what the name would be, as I had mixed them under the table; yet I had a feeling that it was correct.  I opened it and sure enough the name was “Cora Holt.”  I refolded it, placing it in my pocket.  I must confess that I felt a momentary creepy feeling pass over me, as my emotions were wrought up to such a pitch by the intense manner in which I had watched all the details of the experiment.  I informed him that he was right, but did not tell him the name.  He now took my hand in his, and leading me into the parlor, had me state to the company what had just