I was present with Mr. Piatt and Mr. Plimpton at a cabinet seance, held at Dr. Wolfe's house, but in another room, which has been arranged for the convenience of the medium and the visitors. It is on the second story, in a small room, between two others which are lighted with gas. At one side of this room, a thin board partition has been run up, from the floor to the ceiling, about two and a half feet from the wall. We examined, and found nothing but a chair for Mrs. Hollis to sit upon. The light was turned low, but not so that we could not distinctly see each other's faces and forms, and the furniture. The doors communicating with the two end rooms were nearly closed, to exclude the light. Mrs. Hollis's right-hand was marked in the palm with burnt-cork. She entered the cabinet, and shut herself in, the door having, at the height of four feet, a round aperture, of a foot in diameter, over which a piece of square cloth hung down, inside. I don't think this cloth was ever lifted, but I am told the doctor believes otherwise. The musical box was playing, and soon a hand and wrist appeared quickly at the aperture; then another, and another. All these hands were feminine in appearance, and moved about freely, up and down, forward and backward; but always, when one disappeared, it showed the palm the last thing, and there was no mark on it. The hands were all right-hands, and each withdrew before another appeared. They looked natural, and I asked, several times, to touch them, or be touched by them; but the doctor, who was always present, did not consent, although he said that he had done it himself, and it could be done.

A hand took up the bit of pencil lying on the slate, which was placed on a shelf just under the aperture, and wrote: “Judge Burnet"-that, and nothing more. We asked if Judge Burnet would communicate, but there was an answer in the negative by knocking. Dr. Wolfe himself asked the questions generally during the sitting, although every one felt at liberty to converse and to ask explanations of the spirits.

A hand came out of the aperture, in plain view, and wrote a message on the slate, picking up the pencil and holding it just as any body would. The message was: "Major Ben, I can whip 'em yet!"

Some one inquired, “Who are you?”

The hand came out again, and wrote the monosyllable, "Barr."

it was to him, but he asked, "Was that message directed to me ?"

The hand came again, and wrote, "Sam B. Keys will know."
Mr. Piatt asked the spirit to be more particular.

The hand came again and wrote, "I was his relative."
Mr. Piatt inquired, “Are you Sam B. Keys?"

The hand then wrote, "Major Barr."

I thought the message was not probably to Mr. Piatt, but might be for me; so I related that, among other manly qualities of Major Barr, in his early days, was a propensity to fight; and that on one occasion there had been a great battle between him, a merchant, and my grandfather, Thomas Fleming, a farmer of Butler County, in the Lower Market House, about a quarter of beef, in which both were worsted. While I was telling the story, there was a vigorous knocking within the cabinet, which, as I understand it, indicated approval.

James Buchanan, ex-President, next appeared, and was recognized by me and the rest. He is a constant guest at Dr. Wolfe's. The well-known head and the white cravat and hair came forward. Dr. Wolfe greeted him with, "Good evening, Mr. Buchanan!" which was recognized by a nod, and in a minute or two he retired, having advanced to the aperture, and receded several times. The appearance was precisely that of a large lithograph portrait. A hand on the slate followed, and wrote, Corry spent three days at Wheatland." Mr. Buchanan came again and again. Stephen A. Douglas also put in the same appearance and pantomime, the action of the two heads, the only part visible, in each instance, being perfectly characteristic.

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The next I saw distinctly a female head, which I recognized as the late Mrs. Donn Piatt. The hair was worn after her taste, and the expression was exactly like hers. She came several times, but very timidly and faintly. It was her sideface.

Then followed Lizzie Odell, who was a relation of the doctor, and generally comes to the cabinet seances. She was recognized by Mr. Plimpton, as well as the doctor. Her hair was held up from her forehead by a cherry-colored ribbon.

Mary Plimpton, the deceased sister of Mr. Plimpton, came next, and was greeted and recognized by him. She lingered,

Then the hand came out and wrote on the slate. It was simply, "Donn Piatt."

Mr. Piatt, attributing this message to his wife, asked orally if she had any thing to say?

The hand wrote, "Fenton Lawson," a well-known citizen, long since dead. Then, "Mary Piatt."

"Have you any thing you wish to say to me?" repeated Mr. Piatt, orally.

The answer was: "I am happy; you must not fear to come."
He added, "Have you any thing else to say?"

"No!" was immediately written by the hand on the slate. Mr. Piatt asked orally, "Is there any one else who wishes to communicate with me?"

The answer was by the hand, written as usual: "Do you—” but the rest was illegible; and when Mr. Piatt requested an explanation, the hand wrote again, "Come to-morrow, Donn." Another hand now wrote a message. It was simply, “William Corry."

I asked orally, "Have you any thing further to say to me?" The hand appeared at once, and wrote upon the slate this message: William, let the Commoner go; you have lost enough!"

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I asked again, "What further advice have you to give?"
The hand wrote again, "Go on with the brick.”

I inquired, "Will that be profitable?"

The hand wrote again, “You will make money with the machine."

Another hand wrote, "Morgan Neville."

We asked if he had any message. There were affirmative knocks-several of them-and then the hand wrote, "I gave my children no money, because I thought it best."

With this communication, that cabinet seance terminated, at half-past nine P. M.

THIRD SEANCE.

MR. PIATT and myself, with Dr. Wolfe, had a dark seance for conversation with the spirits. It was at ten in the morning; but the chamber in which it took place was made perfectly dark, by padding the doors and windows. Not a ray of light was admitted, although after a while it was said that lights

flitted about. I never saw the phenomenon but once, and then faintly.

After three minutes, there were knocks heard, and the tin horn, which stood on the floor, was moved about. We all talked freely; Mrs. Hollis as well as the others. The music

box was playing. Mrs. Hollis described several personsspirits-who were in the room. One was a large man, of jovial bearing, who was leaning toward Mr. Piatt and examining his arm, which had been hurt recently by an accident. Mrs. Hollis gave his name directly as "Jesse Judkins." Mr. Piatt inquired what he was doing; to which she replied that it seemed to be about his injury, which he was attentively examining, but smiling all the time.

Just then, there was a faint utterance, like a female voice, so low that it required very quick ears to detect what was said. distinguished the words at last: "Ella is better; she will get well."

The message was supposed to come from the former Mrs. Piatt to the present.

Then the voice feebly said, "Don't you know-" The rest was inaudible.

Mr. Piatt said: "I can't hear you. Speak louder, please!" Another effort, but fruitless.

Mr. Piatt said, "Try again."

The voice said, " Mary Meeker."

Mr. Piatt replied he did remember her very well; and he remarked to me that she was a little girl in his family years ago, and was a medium.

My notes were taken in the utter darkness, and the lines crossed, and other difficulties, make them imperfect:

"Tell Ella I love her; and that, of all the hats she wore last Winter in Washington, the one I liked was the pink one with the white plume. The white plume cost twenty dollars. Good-bye!"

James Nolan, familiarly called Jimmy, now seemed to seize the horn, and began to talk. He gave us his history: That he was born in Harrison County, Indiana, and at nineteen went into the war with the first volunteers, a private in Company K, of the Fifty-ninth Regiment, which was commanded by Colonel Courcy, or De Courcy. His captain's name he gave, I think, as M'Bride. He served four years; was at the siege of Vicks

Sherman, he was attacked with typhoid fever, and was sent to Nashville to the hospital, now the Maxwell House, where, after a short illness, he died. He said he lingered round his remains while they were warm, and saw himself laid out and dressed for the grave by his comrades. It was just like putting off an old garment. He was surprised at the ease of the change, and could hardly think he was dead. He said he exclaimed, "Am I really dead?"

In a future conversation, at which Mr. Plimpton and Mr. Pittman, the celebrated phonographer, assisted, Jimmy explained these matters, and his subsequent career in the spiritland, at great length. A note was taken of it all, which I expect to see in print. It is interesting. I can state that the impression he made on me was not that of a light, ordinary young soldier, but of a man of truth, sincerity of purpose. He said he had the strongest desire to persuade men of the future state; that he devoted most of his time and energies to the work; that it could not be done but by a process of materialization, which he explained; and that he was drawn to Mrs. Hollis's house and herself, because he had served with her husband, and become attached to him in the army. It is only possible to communicate with the world's people by the instrumentality of a medium, to whose sphere he had to confine himself in order to be heard. He appeared at all the dark circles, as they are called, where the spirits hold their oral communications; and he was always in a pleasant mood, and made himself popular, if that word can be so applied. I leave him here for the present; for I was most anxious to talk to my mother, if possible, and with my friend, Elwood Fisher, for whom I had always felt an attachment so ardent that it seemed to many romantic; but as I had seen no man then or since that I thought equal to him, I will probably never change.

The medium, Mrs. Hollis, said that she saw a tall lady dressed in black, wearing a cap, who seemed to have lost her teeth, standing by me and looking at me. But she was unable to speak. Mrs. Hollis said she saw another lady there, who was tall, slender, and a younger person than my mother.

I asked who it was, but she could not talk. A voice, however, very low, said, "That is my wife!"

I thought it was my friend Fisher who spoke; and I asked