E.F. Norton—John E. Robinson—Governor N.P. Tallmadge—Pauline M. Davis—Same—John E. Robinson—Prof. I. Jay Watson.

“Cincinnati, June 14, 1852.

“Miss Catherine Fox and Sisters:

“Permit me to offer a few thoughts in reference to your late visit to the Queen City. Having spent the day in calling on a number of the friends who visited you while here, I find but one opinion, and that of regret at the necessity of your having to leave so soon. I have just left the Walnut Street House. The captain informs me that no less than fifty persons had called to see you during the day. He said, ‘They came by carriage loads.’ Your friend Sweeney, the proprietor, is on the anxious-seat. The Spirit told him that a sister of his, residing in Texas, was dead. He received a letter this morning, after you left, conveying the sad intelligence of the death of that sister. I think he may be classed as a convert to the cause. I can but think that, had you remained another week, the receipts would have doubled. The friends feel that to wait till September is out of the question. Do prevail on one of your sisters, Mrs. Fish, Margaretta, or Mrs. Smith, to return with you immediately. Will not the good Spirits approve of it? It does seem to me that Cincinnati is the best point in the West, both in a pecuniary point of view and for the advancement of the cause. Miss Cronk, of Painesville, and her father, are expected here soon, the circle having written and received an answer that they would come. Should they come, it will be for the benefit of the circle, and cannot interfere with your visit. My Spiritual friends are all telegraphing me while writing, in approbation, perhaps, of what I am saying. I forgot to give you the book containing the list of the names of the visitors. I will copy it and enclose it to you. Please advise your sisters, and believe me

“Yours truly,
“E.F. Norton.”

“Clipper Ship Sea Serpent,
Pacific Ocean, June 21, 1852. Lat. 22 N., Long. 118 W.

“My Dear Friend:

“My association with your family, during the past summer and winter, I trust is a sufficient apology for the liberty I take in addressing you. The past three months have offered a good time for reflection, and I acknowledge to a feeling of solicitude for you all. I know you have friends in all parts of the world, but, I am sorry to say, even some of your best friends sometimes fail to appreciate the severe tests through which you are compelled to pass, in order to prove the genuineness of Spirit manifestations. You will oblige me very much if you will write me particulars in regard to your success in your new home, surrounded by new friends, etc., etc.

“Mr. Greeley expressed a hope that you would stop at his home until your house is settled and ready for occupation. He also expects that Katy will accept his invitation to come immediately to attend school, and remain with them until you are settled in New York. It is only since my sea-life that I have fully realized the situation. You are exposed to the scoffs and ridicule of the masses, at all times and in all places. This great and important truth is destined to revolutionize the world, and will render your names a part of the history of the age. It has already done so. I shall claim as a right from you, occasionally, a full account of the progress of the cause. The subject has been a very dear one to me. In fact, I feel that I am living in a different sphere since I have been acquainted with the object of my own existence, and have a clearer perception of a life beyond. I can realize the truth of that saying, so common with the good old Methodists, viz., ‘I enjoy a peace that the world cannot give nor take away.’

“We are now almost one thousand miles from San Francisco, being only four or five days’ sail, with a fair wind. Unfortunately, however, the wind is turned unfavorable, and we may be as many weeks. This is our one hundred and fourth day at sea, without landing, having travelled some fifteen thousand miles.

“Our voyage, on the whole, has been very pleasant. The weather has been remarkably fine. We have not experienced one day of what the sailors term rough weather. Our passage round Cape Horn, the place so much dreaded by all voyagers, was unusually favorable. We were only three days in getting round, while it is common for ships to be from fifteen to thirty. The greatest treat of the voyage is the sunsets on this side. Their wondrous beauties baffle every attempt at description. Will you have the kindness to send by mail the piece of music, ‘Haunted Ground’?

“With kind regards to all, I remain yours truly,

“E.F. Norton.”

JOHN E. ROBINSON.

“Rochester, N.Y., October 20, 1853.

“Dear Friend Leah:

“I have received your note of a recent date, and am obliged to you for it, as I always am for a letter from you. But, what is the matter with you? your letter is deeply tinged with sadness, and reads very much as I feel sometimes, though from a different cause from any which appeared in yours.

“You have, or had just then, a November mood on, and here it is October, and a clear and bright sky; and although it be autumn, it is one of no common beauty. What has crossed your path? Are you not blessed with friends good and true? such as you used to tell me of? and if your health is passingly good, what is there standing between you and your share of happiness? I suppose I might give answers to these questions by looking in upon my own life record: for a human is a human, and we are all of a piece in most things. But your letter leads me to these questions, and so my pen has asked them. You do not say a word about Spirits, or what they and you are doing, leaving me to guess everything which I would know about those things.

“You recollect Frederica Bremer paid you a visit on Troup Street when she was in this country. Her manner and remarks, as you related them to me, I remember in a general way, particularly as she was, on account of her eminent literary character, a marked personage; and I was somewhat surprised this evening, when I read an extract from her recent book of travels in America, in which she gives an account of her interview with yourself and sisters. It is evident that she was false to you, or else she is false to the public who now read her work. I mention this as a passing matter of but little consequence in itself, disconnected with other considerations, but which are inseparable therefrom.

“She is, through her writings, the familiar and admired companion in countless homes here and elsewhere; and her opinions pass as of more value than those of most persons. I regret exceedingly that, for some cause, she has said either more or less than what seems to her the truth. In the long run it will make no difference to truth itself, but I do so hate to see one, whom I consider a noble spirit, swerve a hair’s breadth from the path of honor, merely to minister to the current opinions of a world that it should be too proud to bow to. It is but another instance, another illustration of the truth of what I have often said to you and our friend George Willets, that there never has been anything which so severely tried the integrity of men and women as does this Spiritualism.

“The Rochester Union tells us you have quietly settled down in a place called Harmony, Chautauqua Co. No other paper has the news.

“Yours,
“J.E.R.”

GOVERNOR N. P. TALLMADGE.

“Fond du Lac, Wis., March 27, 1857.

“Dear Mrs. Brown:

“I received yesterday from Judge Smith the communication through you from my wife deceased. It was remarkable and significant in every point of view. Judge Smith writes that her name was not known to him nor to you, and he did not know whether it be right or wrong. I wish to say to you, it is exactly right—both the Christian name and the middle letter; and it is remarkable that whilst Judge Smith spells my name, as almost all persons spell it, with only one ‘l,’ to wit Talmadge, the name as rapped out, letter by letter, is correctly spelled with two ‘l’s,’ to wit, Tallmadge.

“I was much gratified with your note of condolence appended to the communication. I know your sincerity, and I appreciate your sympathy. You know the pain of separation, and the severance of such earthly ties. But how my views have changed from what they were when my son William died! I had no peace for years till I began to communicate with him through you. Death now has no terrors for me. I feel that the separation from beloved friends and relatives is but temporary—and that, by a pure life here, we shall soon be again united in ‘another and a better world,’ where there will be no more separation forever.

“With kindest regards to your mother and sisters, I remain, very truly,

“Your friend,
“N.P. Tallmadge.
“Mrs. Ann Leah Brown,
No. 1 Ludlow Place, New York.”

PAULINE W. DAVIS.

“Providence, August 8, 1857.

“My Dear Mrs. B.:

“A writer, whom I have been recently reading, says: ‘I count life not by years but by the acquaintances I form and value, hence if I make a love I double or even treble that year.’

“In that sense I would like to be old, for I would like to have many real loves.

“I am glad of my visit to New York, for I learned that my heart was not cold when any one came near me with the power to rouse me.

“Deeply as I am interested in the new philosophy you are a chosen teacher of, still I am more interested in you as a woman; a woman whose heart is alive to all that is good and great, and that has been purified by a high love.

“It is not often, as I told you, that I make any demonstrations of affection (and I have been so long called cold that I begin to think I am rather so). Nor do I often express admiration; but toward you I was impelled to offer much; and now, in writing you, were I to utter all the warm feelings that awaken in my heart toward you, I fear you might think me weak and enthusiastic—or worse, insincere; which God forbid I should ever be.

“You are my opposite in almost everything. This may account for my admiration, but not for my love; for it is not every one that I can love. I have looked about to see what I could do among my friends, and what inducement I could offer you to come; which is very little indeed beyond a warm welcome to our little cottage and hearts. Our friends are nearly all absent, but some half-dozen gentlemen wish much to have you come. So your expenses would be insured, and you should have rest, quiet, and the perfect protection of our house; and I think you would enjoy the freshness of the country. It is so green and lovely now that it seems like June. I have been in Boston and saw my dear boy, who will come down to see you if you come. I also obtained for you a beautiful thimble, so do not bring one for yourself. Please let me hear from you at once, and if you will come—what day. We will then meet you with our carriage and take care of you. My husband is greatly interested in my story, but can’t realize the truth in the least. [This refers to a remarkable cure of Mrs. Davis by Mrs. B. which will be found in the chapter on Spirit Cures, page 364.--Ed.]

“God bless you, my dear friend.
“Pauline W. Davis.

“Mrs. J. is not well, but is out with my husband driving.”

SAME.

“Providence, June 12, 1859.

“My Dear Mrs. Underhill:

“I have been waiting a long time, hoping to hear from you and to have that visit appointed. Now the country is so beautiful I must urge you to come and enjoy it with me. Last evening I met Mr. Bartlett, who inquired for you and hoped you would come very soon. He gives a strawberry party on Saturday evening of this week. You shall see just whom you would like to see, and no others. You shall ride, walk, or rest, just as you like, and have a good time, that shall make you forget all the disagreeables of the past. How fortunate it is that we have the ability to forget some things, and that the heart prefers to retain the beautiful and cast aside the evil. Come next week, as then I shall have strawberries in abundance and cherries too. Mr. Underhill must come for you. If he comes with you, he will hurry you away too soon, I know, and there are a thousand things for us to talk about. My little Maybell is in splendid health and spirits. Give my kind regards to Mr. Underhill, and tell him to give you leave of absence now. Let me hear from you soon. If you come by the Fall River boat you have a beautiful sail up the river, and be here to breakfast about half-past ten o’clock.

“I will meet you with a carriage at the wharf.

“Yours with much affection,
(Signed) “Pauline W. Davis.”

JOHN E. ROBINSON.

“New York, October 1, 1884.

“My Kind Friend, Mrs. Underhill:

“Learning that you are about having published a new book on the general subject of Modern Spiritualism, and that, in connection therewith, you propose to avail yourself of such writings of mine as were suggested by a careful study of its phenomenal facts during the early days of their occurrence; I write now to say that, so far from having any objections to such a design, I acquiesce promptly and thoroughly in your request.

“Furthermore, if any letters of mine, either of a public or private character, can be of service to you, you need not, as a suggestion of delicacy, withhold my name. What is truth to me, I utter, if the occasion seems to call for its expression.

“It has occurred to me, in this connection, that some thoughts of my maturer years, which have quite recently passed through my mind, may be pertinent to the general subject.

“Without being censorious, and desiring to keep strictly within the bounds of propriety, allow me to say that I have noted a marked tendency, especially in these latter years, of a more general atheistic quality in public thought upon the general subjects which lie at the base of all human religious belief.

“I might, perhaps, italicize what I refer to, as a near approach to a positive unbelief, in most grades of modern intellects; from the most gifted to those lower strata which take their initial thoughts from their superiors.

“Now it seems to me on reflection, during a long season when my thoughts have been almost my only companions, that the cause of all this general declension or ‘eclipse of faith’ is, that Science has taught too much, unless it teaches more!

“I would rather phrase it, however (for the emendation is a better solution), that the true teachings of science have not been followed out to their ultimates.

“Now, to my apprehension, this is a most grievous error, and was well expressed by the poet who penned the lines,

“Science has, as I apprehend it—and I would not be erroneous in my judgment, nor willingly harsh—generally impressed the intellects of its votaries in such a manner as to lead them intellectually to find nothing beyond the elemental matter of the Universe as their eyes behold it. Exceptions there have been, and are, to this general charge; but they are rare. To refer in especial to the fact stated (without being ungenerously personal), I may add that the acknowledged highest and most accomplished medical authority in New York to-day (so I am informed) hesitates not to aver, as his best and highest conviction, that when a human body is thoroughly dissected upon his table, he has shown to his class of students all that was or is of the specimen of humanity, save the extinct principle of animal existence.

“This is simply bald, blank atheism!

“It is an undoubted fact that such an opinion may be held by many a man of sincerity; but such products have been initiated by the gross sensuousness of the religious thought, that has given form and substance to what should never have been considered as coming within the range of things designated by and possessing those attributes.

“Let me explain, if I can, to the comprehension of such as may, perchance, read this, the nature of the Faith that is in me.

“I am willing in my elder days to live by it, and to be judged of it by the enlightened convictions of my fellow-men while I live upon this earth, and by that Deity in whom I verily believe.

“I know—we all know—of the imperious forces of nature which rock a continent or roll back an ocean from its shores.

“We also know something of gigantic and of microscopic life; of the intelligence of animated nature, through all its varied and wonderful forms; we know and study the wonders of the human intellect, even from (I might almost say) the first dawn of life.

“We are all, more or less, conversant with the action of principles which inhere in many species of vegetable life, in which we note a rare and exquisite faculty of sensation, which mirrors in its perfection the faculty of human consciousness, and human ingenuity.

“We look, not upward nor downward—for those terms are inadmissible in this connection—but outward from our standpoint; and what do we see? The heavens, as the ancients called what their limited vision revealed to them. Under Galileo’s lead we look again, aided by the telescope of moderate power, and, beyond that gathered in our first field of sight, we find another countless host of stars. Tired with the result we think and rest. Recuperating our wearied eyes, we substitute an instrument of higher power, and again peer into the realm of Infinitude. And again another congeries of stars is opened to our human vision. Repeat the process as we may, and as often as we choose, increase the penetrating power of our instrument, the same fact remains. There is no end, no limitation. But in all these results of our inquisitorial efforts we discover one preponderating law—that of undeviating order. This is the one omnipresent principle by which their movements are governed.

“Law, in this sense at least, must be and is the result of dictation by the highest wisdom, and necessitates the existence of Deity. I use the term because it is the only one which is pertinent to the subject and idea to be expressed. The word God is the outcome of the earlier ages of comparative intellectual darkness. The highest mental status of mankind at that time could not apprehend a Ruler of the Universe except as clothed with a form somewhat analogous to that of a human being, and hence the rather presumptuous declaration that ‘God created man in His own image.’

“We can readily apprehend this.

“If, on contemplation, we look the august question squarely in the face, we can most certainly reach the conclusion that this Ideal is the highest possible one, and centres within itself all things else requisite to an intelligent apprehension of what we are striving to reach. To illustrate—if we have not already covered the basic ground of the thought—all the most potent and irresistible forces of Nature are strictly impalpable; and yet we know somewhat of their lurkings; and such star-eyed minds as that of a Morse can reverently and gently lead them in the direction of human pathways.

“This conviction may be considered as the final result of the eager inquiry of honest and intelligent human minds. I think it the reflex of the conviction of England’s Newton, and I accept and retain it as a finality of the question. It ennobles instead of dwarfing one’s conception of a Ruler of all things, and gives us a stable as well as a rational and intellectual standpoint of observation, of faith, and of love. Higher than the God of earlier worship, because entirely removed from the sensuous perceptions; not fashioned after the crude and dimly visioned ideals of elder time, it is sufficient for the highest yearnings of all Humanity, and must necessarily ennoble the faith of all with whom it shall live as the great exponent of Power, Truth, and Love.

“I remain, sincerely, as ever,

“Your friend,
“J.E. Robinson.”[21]

The following letter will explain itself. Professor J. Jay Watson needs no description. He was an intimate friend of OlÉ Bull, who bequeathed to him his favorite violin, on which instrument he is himself a consummate performer, while his little son, Emmons Watson, bids fair some day to rival OlÉ Bull himself. His direction of the music at the Centennial of 1876, and his popular “dime concerts” in New York, attended by some hundreds of thousands, have made Professor Watson not less widely known than he is everywhere highly respected, for his philanthropy as well as musical genius and powers.
A.L.U.

“Mrs. A. Leah Underhill:

“Highly Esteemed Friend—It is with unfeigned pleasure that I comply with your request to furnish you with an account of my strange experience while visiting San Francisco, Cal., in company with OlÉ Bull, the violinist, in 1870.

“I cheerfully give the facts as they occurred, and it seems eminently proper that the incident which I am about to relate should occupy a place in your forthcoming book, when we recollect that the problem involved was solved through your marvellous mediumistic powers.

“My father-in-law, Mr. Samuel Parsons, formerly an old and revered citizen of Gloucester, Mass., and who passed to the life beyond in 1865, had for many years been noted for his remarkable prophecies as to the coming of future events, as well as a strict regard for honesty and truth. We frequently talked of the change called death, and as we were both somewhat materialistic in our views as to a future state of existence, we mutually agreed that the one who should be first called to pay the debt of nature, would, if there was a possibility of Spirit return, with sufficient power to tangibly manifest his presence, surely do so; and in order that there could be no mistaking the individual identity, he would seize the one still in earth-life by the hair of his head and forcibly pull him from his bed to the floor.

“Laughable, and even ridiculous, as it may seem, this promise was at various times renewed, and frequently in the presence of mutual friends, who are still living. This agreement was made as a sort of harmless joke, neither Mr. Parsons nor myself having, up to this time, investigated the philosophy of Modern Spiritualism in any form.

“During my visit to San Francisco, Cal., while managing the ‘OlÉ Bull Concert Combination,’ I had occasion to employ a number of persons, one of whom, having been proved glaringly dishonest, I was obliged to discharge.

“This individual, not being satisfied with my leniency in letting him off without legal punishment, vowed vengeance upon me, saying to several persons that I should ‘never leave California alive.’ As ‘barking dogs seldom bite,’ I paid little attention to his threats. One evening, after the conclusion of our concert, I was accompanied to my hotel by J. Heneage Carter, Esq., an old-time friend, and the originator of the once famous ‘Carter Zouave Troupe.’ After depositing the receipts of the evening with Mr. Ridgeway, clerk of the ‘Lick House,’ where our company were stopping, I retired to my room with my friend Carter. A brief chat ensued, no allusion whatever being made as to the threats of the discharged employee. Mr. Carter bade me a cheerful good-night and took his departure. I had no special anxiety upon my mind, had eaten no hearty supper, taken no beverage in the shape of wine or liquor of any description; in fact, I have scrupulously avoided dissipation in any form up to the present moment of my life; consequently there was nothing in my stomach calculated to induce nightmare or unpleasant dreams.

“Upon retiring I immediately fell into a tranquil sleep, from which I was unceremoniously awakened, without the slightest warning, by being suddenly and vigorously grasped, apparently by a strong hand, by the hair of my head and jerked with tremendous force from my bed, landing sprawling upon the floor. Immediately gaining my feet, I prepared to face a demon in the flesh of some sort, and groped about the room to find a friendly chair with which to defend myself, if need be. No further demonstration being made, however, I proceeded to strike a light, nor for a moment did I lose my self-control, although constantly expecting to be attacked by some unseen foe. Upon carefully examining my room there was not the slightest sign of any being, human or otherwise, with the exception of myself. Everything was still and as usual. I looked at my watch and found the time to be 5.40 A.M. My scalp smarted intensely, as it naturally would after such harsh treatment, and had I been near an Indian camp I could readily have believed that I had lost that important appendage, and without any great stretch of the imagination either.

“As there is no effect without a cause, and vice versa, I soon seated myself and endeavored to solve the meaning of the remarkable phenomenon just experienced. In a moment a terrible thought flashed upon my mind. Perhaps some member of my family or near relative had died suddenly. Hastily making my toilet I proceeded to the nearest telegraph station and impatiently awaited the arrival of the operator. My despatch was directed to my sister in New York, with whom my family were stopping at the time, and simply read, ‘How are you all? Answer.’ The reply, ‘All well,’ caused me to breathe more freely, but the mystery was yet unexplained. I told the story to my friend OlÉ Bull, who became intensely interested, and often during our stay in California expressed a great deal of solicitude in the matter.

“I would here state en passant, that the agreement made by my wife’s father and myself did not recur to my mind. To be sure, Mr. Parsons had been dead more than five years, yet it seems to me quite remarkable that our old compact had not at once presented itself; but I felt convinced that this singular demonstration meant something. Upon my return to New York I visited you in company with OlÉ Bull, and you kindly gave us a private sitting. The alphabet being called for, the following was rapped out: ‘John, the man whom you discharged in San Francisco, was on the veranda of the hotel, and determined to execute his terrible threat. I thought it a good time to redeem my promise, and pulled you out of bed by your hair. I was obliged to do this roughly in order to thoroughly awaken you.—Samuel Parsons.’

“With great respect I am
“Your sincere friend,
“J. Jay Watson.
“Beverly, Essex County, Mass.”