Sunday, 10 August 2014

Spirit Signatures

Tee was taken very ill. Doctors could not diagnose the illness, never having seen anything like it. When feeling a little eased of severe pain, Tee wished to try to get a message from his brother Hugh. The attempt was a failure.

Oh, Sister, you can't connect with anyone on a higher plane than ours because of the rates of vibration being so much more rapid. Only we low-brows can deal with you direct. Tell Tee that his brother is with him tonight, as his father said, and by results tomorrow he will see. Hughey is with Tee now, but is too bright a light for my dull person to be comfy with. J. S. Senior is hovering on the outskirts, but even he is in a class above us. Cheer up! There are plenty of classes here, sealed up literally out of sight. It's a big game, this life; real life, I mean. Makes a chap dizzy just to get a hasty look. There are so many more layers or zones than I ever could have imagined.

Gee, Sister, we are getting on fine. Tires you, I see. Never mind, it pleases me, and will be some stunt when we get it perfected. I should be helped to write if I could get over my own fist. I always was keen for that, you—, no, you don't know. I was about to say you know, that classic sentence used by all civilised people. Helen isn't so keen on autographs as I am, so she puts in more time on ideas. Oh well, we'll cut it out for now as I see you are so tired. See if we can pull off some good signatures first,— (his name in full and his town). How's that, Sister? Ask Papa.


Sister had not been able to see well enough to read for years. Her vision had become impaired before her younger brother Harry was old enough to have learned to write. So she had really never seen his writing. Her handwriting was very coarse, so when Harry attempted to give a test of his personality by making her get his own handwriting which was very fine, it tired her extremely, and she was sure no one could read it, as it had seemed to her she was writing the letters over each other. When Harry finally did write his own name and city it was startlingly like his own hand, and was a convincing test to many, as she could not possibly have known what his handwriting was like, even had she wished to imitate it.