The music box was again set playing, and, while yet it was playing the first tune, a tall figure, robed in creamy white, with gleaming sparks in her hair, and on her head a sort of crown, issued from the cabinet.  She was recognized by a gentleman present, a spiritualist, whose spirit guide she was, and who addressed her as “my queen.”  She stood a few seconds behind the table and then stepped out in the open space between the sitters and the table.  The gentleman now arose from his seat and, standing beside her, holding her hand, conversed in a whisper with her for some seconds.

This was most assuredly a lady, if appearances go for anything.  Her hands were quite small, and were warm and lifelike, as several, including myself, can testify, having been permitted to shake hands with her.  At last she started to the cabinet, and, as she went, appeared to grow shorter, until, as she disappeared between the curtains, she was not much taller than the table.  The manager now explained that the spirit had remained out rather too long and came near dematerializing before she reached the cabinet.  Now came the spirit of a young man, dressed in a light suit of clothes, who gave his name and said his mother was present.  She was, and had a few words of conversation with him when he disappeared into the cabinet.  The lady said that it was unmistakably her son; but there was something that was not as he had been, but what it was she was unable to describe.

The next spirit to present itself was my son Eddie.  He came out from the cabinet calling “Papa, papa.”  The manager asked “Who is your papa?” and he replied, “Mr. (Smith).”  All this time he stood between the table and the cabinet, and only his head and shoulders could be seen.  The manager told him to step out where he could be seen, when he came around to the front of the table.

It was rather dark, but I could swear it was my son.  He was just the right size, with long flaxen hair and a very pale face.  He wore a light-colored waist and darker knee-breeches and stockings, with a large black bow at his throat, Just as I remember seeing him last in health.

While Eddie was still standing in front of the table a large man came out and took him by the hand.  Eddie spoke, saying: 

“Must I go back, grandpa?” The form turned toward me, saying: 

“My son, this is a great pleasure to us, but we must not long remain, as it is our first attempt at materializing.”  He turned to go when the manager said to him: 

“If the gentleman is your son you ought to give him your name.”

“The name of the child is Eddie, and my own is J. A. Smith,” replied the form, as they vanished into the cabinet.

The manager suggested that it would be well to examine and see whether the medium had been out or not.  The cabinet was examined and everything found satisfactory.

Spirit after spirit came from the cabinet, one or two at a time for an hour; some of them came to friends, and others were “controls” of the medium.  Many of them were recognized by different ones of the sitters in the room.  I, for one, could swear to the identity of my own son Eddie, while my father was plainly recognizable. . . .