Spirit Messages From My Husband (article 18 january 1931)
Spirit Messages From My Husband is an article written by Lady Conan Doyle published in the Sunday Dispatch on 18 january 1931.
Spirit Messages From My Husband
Smiling snapshot, in her garden, of Lady Conan Doyle.
By LADY CONAN DOYLE.
Those on the other side of Death's Valley leave no stone unturned to try to communicate with those on the earth plane, and as we earth people have discovered so many new ways of getting into touch with one another — by telephone, air post, wireless and so on — those behind the veil are working at their end and helping us here to establish more means of communication with the spirit world.
The first message from the "other side" — in what we might call a Morse code — came to Hydesville in 1848, in a farmer's shack. When the farmer's young daughter heard continued raps she suddenly cried out, "Do as I do," and snapped her fingers three times. Three raps came in response.
SPIRIT PHOTOS.
By rapping out numbers, against the alphabet, the farmer and his daughter found out all about a spirit who was haunting the shack. The spirit said that he had been a pedlar and had been murdered in the house and was buried there.
Years afterwards, when the shack was being removed, the body of a man was found under some cement. His pedlar's pack was also found there.
It was a sordid message, yet one of the most important things that ever happened in the world, because it was establishing contact with the other spheres of existence.
Similarly, when the first message by telephone between America and England came through trivial things were said, but how much of importance has passed through those lines since!
From the time of that first spirit message many new methods of communication have been found. One, which is unfortunately rare at present, is photographic mediumship.
Sometimes, alas, the owners of this priceless gift are unaware of the power they have. I heard of a professional photographer whose whole business was ruined, and he had to close down, because almost every customer who came to be photographed had an extra face or more on the plates!
Had that man got in touch with the British College of Psychic Science his rare mediumship would have been the means of comforting many mourners' hearts and of proving immortality to many who think that life ends all.
SCIENTIST'S TEST.
A brilliantly clever scientific friend of ours, a well-known American doctor, came to England three months after his daughter died. He went to see a friend in London who asked him if he had ever had a psychic photograph taken.
He replied that he did not know there was such a thing, but inquired if he could have one taken at once. He was told to go to the Psychic College and he went there and then — a perfect stranger with no appointment.
The photographic medium was in the hall just leaving the college. He begged her to come upstairs and take a photograph of him. To his very great delight and happiness a most splendid photograph of his daughter came out on the plate, better than any taken in life, as he assured an himself.
When my husband showed it among his psychic photographs at one of his lectures in America several relatives and friends cams up afterwards and said what a marvellous photograph it was of her — better than any they had seen before.
Now, Mr. Critic, you go to a conjurer's house — unexpected and a perfect stranger — and ask him to take a photograph of you. Will you get a clear good photo of someone dear to you who has passed on, whom he never saw in life, never knew existed any more than he knew of your existence until he looked at you a few minutes before? Never!
You would get nothing that was real or that would mean anything whatsoever to you.
The comfort which one gets from the evidence of the nearness of one's dear ones who are living in that other vibration of life is indescribable. When the little homely things come through it seems to comfort most.
If only, only people could realise what they miss when, in their ignorance and stupid prejudice, they turn away from this glorious knowledge!
They are, as it were, pulling the blinds down to shut out God's sunlight from their lives.
90 MINUTES' TALK.
I myself have had such homely, such comforting, happy evidence of my dear husband's nearness in our home life. Here is one small case.
A short time ago Mrs. Von Reuter and her son, the famous violinist, came to stay with me in our New Forest home. Mrs. Von Reuter is a very fine medium, using the Additor for her mediumship.
On the evening of their arrival we had a séance, and my husband for an hour and a half communicated with us, his own personality taking complete control of the Additor. He communicated as individually and definitely as if he had been talking in his own voice. It was most wonderful and also so evidential.
Before my husband passed over I had special glass put into the windows of our New Forest house, hoping that when he came in the summer the violet rays would help to build up his strength, but he did not live to go there.
THE EVIDENCE.
He said, in the sitting, that he is constantly with us in the house and "I am in the violet rays." Now the Von Reuters knew no more than you who are reading this article that the windows were made of violet-ray glass, as they did not arrive until after dark, when all the curtains were drawn. But my husband knew about those windows.
The critic says, "Trivial." Certainly, but evidential of his knowledge of home affairs and, oh, so comforting!
My husband is very active on the "other side," his keen spirit and driving force already making itself felt. It is interesting to note how wisely and cleverly he arranges to get messages through to me from different centres, corroborating each other, apart from our own home seances.
Many messages I have had from various mediums which have not been at all evidential. To my mind, it is very often like this: my husband has given out messages and they have been re-wirelessed, as it were, on the other side.
The mediums' various controls have transmitted badly just as a message on this earth going through various humans will most likely be very different from the original when it reaches the last person.
Love is a divine quality and when true love exists between human souls and one is promoted to a higher sphere of existence, the power of love, as those on the other side all tell us, is increased, not lessened; and, therefore, to be in touch with their dear ones left behind in the grey old earth life is an enormous happiness and blessing to them.
They are able by their newly gained greater knowledge to help and guide and topples us and it completes their happiness and is instrumental in helping them in their own progression, for loving service is God's work.
WRITING ON SLATE.
There is a remarkable slate medium named Mrs. Pruden, who lives in Cincinnati. When my husband was lecturing in Chicago a few years ago she very kindly offered to come there and give us a séance at our hotel. Just my husband, myself, a friend, and Mrs. Pruden were present at the sitting. It was in broad daylight, in the morning.
My husband wrote on a piece of paper an important question to my dear stepson, folded it and put it at his feet.
He examined the double slates joined by a hinge. They were quite clear — no mark on them. My husband then put a small piece of pencil between the slates, closed them, and then held on tightly to one end of them, never leaving go for one instant. Mrs. Pruden held the other end to provide the mediumistic power.
She and we all talked of various subjects, but all the time my husband could feel the pencil inside the slate writing. Then the slates tilted three times, and when my husband opened them there was a splendid answer from my stepson to his question, giving him information about something which proved to be most helpful and true.
I also wrote a question to a very dear friend who had passed on some years previously. I folded the paper and put it on the ground at my feet. I examined the slates, put the pencil between them, shut them and held on tightly to them the whole time, Mrs. Pruden holding the other end.
BURNED HOME.
Before long I felt the movement of the pencil inside writing. After a little time, again the tilts came. I opened the slates and there was written a most evidential answer from my friend, signed in her very unusual signature.
Mr. Horace Leaf, a fine medium and experienced psychic investigator, has recently returned from America, where he has been lecturing. He had a sitting with Mrs. Pruden and went through the same preparation, holding the slates himself, etc.
Although hoping that his mother would write a message he found, to his surprise, a message purporting to come from my husband was written up on the slates. It is not evidential, as regards matter, but it is absolutely in his style.
Further evidence. Our New Forest home, which we had loved so much, was burnt down eighteen months ago. At the time the loan seemed dreadful after all the loving care we had spent in making it so charming.
FULFILLED.
At one of our home séances shortly afterwards we were told by our people on the "other side" the reasons for it. Two of them were psychic and extremely interesting.
Some dear friends of ours were much upset at our loss and at a private séance in London they were told by their friends on the "other side" not to grieve over our loss and then they told them the reasons for it, the very same that tee had been told, and which we had not mentioned to anybody.
They also told them what would be the results of it, as we had been told, all of which has since been fulfilled in a most marvellous way.
[World copyright.]
Next Week: Where are we going after death?
