Page:Resurrection Rock (1920).pdf/207

 and before this letter about my father came to me, I might have visited a medium without thinking so much about what I was doing. I never did take part in a sitting—though of course I'd heard about them, and I've known plenty of people who did—because it seemed to me silly and making light of a sacred thing. It appeared to be playing a game of pretend-talking with dead people when you weren't. And the queer part about discovering that—sometimes, at least, as Huston Adley says—we here may communicate with our dead, is how much prepared you want to be before you assume to speak through the veil to some one you loved and whom you thought you could never speak to again.

Why, it would be nothing at all for me to find a medium and arrange a sitting and ask questions if I didn't believe that my father may be there to speak to me—and my mother, whom I can't remember at all—well, that makes me weak and reverent and almost too much afraid.

She had written thus far rapidly, and suddenly she stopped, glanced at her words with a gasp and started to crumple the page; but she did not.

I think, she continued after a minute, that though you had lost no one close to you, as I had my father, yet you knew this feeling. You, too, never knew your mother; and you told me how you walked the streets of London after that first successful sitting. Probably I shall have, like you, several unsatisfactory trials at first. Yet I may find my father the first time; they say he has been trying so hard to talk to me.

I want to be very sure that, when I try, it will be through some fitting person—that nothing about my approach to him will degrade him or lead me into danger of offending or losing or ever misunderstanding