after an hour's conversation, "sometimes I am struck with the conviction that there is something in your Church above the level of the human. I see such devotedness in your priests-(and who can deny it?)—I see such sacrifices made by some -(and it is right that we should concede it)—I see in yourself, for instance, such sequestration to what I believe to be an awful and a miserable superstition I see in you such untiring earnestness, that I sometimes begin to think, Father Ignatius, that your Church has something supernatural or infranatural about it." He paused, and, looking me in the face, said with great solemnity, "Dr. Cumming, if the Church of Rome be not the only Church of the living God, she is the master-piece of the devil; she can be nothing between." I said to him, "You will pardon me, but I solemnly believe your Church belongs to the second alternative you mentioned." He said, "It is what I expected; it is what I supposed; and, therefore, it does not at all surprise me." And we parted. I gave him a little book— a very small book-called, "Christ receiving Sinners." "Now," I said, "Father Ignatius, we may never meet again in this world; will you read this book? It has no eloquence; but it is a simple statement of the way of a sinner's acceptance with God, as I believe it to be true." He said, "I will take your book, but I won't promise to read it." "Well, then," I said, "if you won't read it, I will take the book back; I can find plenty that will read it." "Well," he said, "you have been so

courteous and kind, and have received me in such a pleasant manner, that for once I will promise to read the book." I entered his name on its titlepage as a gift from me; and I have prayed — and prayer is the noblest controversial weapon we can employ that it may please the Holy Spirit to bless it to that misguided, simple man, too simple to be the tool of the Vatican, so that he may come out of his prison-house, and testify, amid such a dense mass of listening immortals as that which meets in Exeter Hall, the glorious Gospel of God, in contrast with the soul-destroying superstitions and corruptions of Rome. I do not dwell upon this; I quote it merely to show that my conviction of the supernatural character of the Church of Rome is not peculiar to me. If Satan inspires the Papacy, he will enable it to do signs and wonders.

Some think that already Satan is manifesting supernatural agency, and doing feats that correspond to those predicted to occur in the last days of our dispensation. We must be on our guard against the secularism which excludes the supernatural altogether, and the superstition which sees supernatural feats everywhere.

Professor Newman represents the one class, Dr. Newman the other. But caution is not incredulity, and credulity is not Christianity.

Some excellent men allege that table-turning and table-speaking is a sign of the times, a proof of the presence of Satan and of the occurrence of infranatural miracles. Now, I think I am competent

to speak on this subject; it is not an impertinent pretence to say so. I cannot agree with some, who denounce its claims to be supernatural as prima facie false, because impossible; nor can I agree with those who have arrived at the conclusion that it is a manifestation of Satanic power, or direct communication with disembodied spirits, or in any sense a superhuman thing. I was asked to go and visit two of the most able and effective performers upon tables in the house of a dear and valued. friend, a member of my congregation. I watched, suspiciously, the whole from beginning to end. It is important, however, to discriminate two things confounded. There is table-moving, which is one thing; there is table-speaking, or disembodied spirits speaking through tables (as it is alleged), which is a totally different thing. The one may be a scientific phenomenon; the other I shall try to describe as I think it deserves. It may seem presumptuous to say, even with deepest deference, that I am satisfied that Faraday in his letter does not explain the phenomenon. This may be my error, but it is my impression. Whether it be by electricity, or galvanism, or mesmerism, or any other yet undetected motive and subtle element, it is a fact, that the fingers of a lady laid lightly on a heavy table, made it, in my presence, spin round, lift its legs, stamp the floor, and throw itself into most extraordinary and unbecoming convulsions. Table-turning, however, is an amusement for children. Table-talking is not so. The one is

or worse.

child's-play, the other is either downright nonsense It is important that we should understand, if possible, what pretends to be above human; for while expecting miracles, and signs supernatural, or rather infra-natural, in the last days, we must be on our guard against imposture, and prepare to decide what are, and what are not so. My friends asserted in their drawing-room, not only that this new motive power was true (which may or may not be), but that there was something above and beyond table-moving in it, or the supernatural. It may be electricity, it may be galvanism, it may be neither; or it may be some other natural influence which we do not, at present, know of; or it may be what Faraday suggests. I am aware there are difficulties in supposing the existence in human fingers of an undetected power, for how does it happen that when people sit down to dine, and lay their fingers on the table, it does not begin to dance? But it is a fact that I saw a table, touched lightly by the fingers of a lady, whose muscular powers, I am sure, were not very formidable, rise, leap, and move from side to side in the most extraordinary manner. Faraday I think does not, and I cannot explain this. But it is not therefore supernatural. My two friends, however, said that it was supernatural. They set the table in motion, and then asked me to put questions to the supposed spirit, which had just taken possession of the table. I said, "No, I decline to do so; I am here simply as a spectator, and have reasons for

declining, which I need not state. I am here simply as an inquirer: you begin, and I will look on." The question was asked, "Do you know the Rev. Mr. Reeve?" The table gave three gentle taps, which means in the table vernacular, "Yes." "Do you know the Rev. Mr. Fisk?" The table gave three gentle raps, in precisely the same manner. After asking two or three questions. about various persons, present or absent, and receiving similar polite and courteous replies, my friends asked the supposed spirit, "Do you know Dr. Cumming?" The table positively forgot all the respect due to a lady's drawing-room, and threw itself into a state of convulsive kicking, which made me anxious, not about my creed, but about the table's safety. My friends then asked how many shillings were in my pocket. It guessed eleven, and there were only five. They then asked how many sovereigns I had. It guessed five, and I had only one. It was then asked, "Will you answer Dr. Cumming at all?" The answer, according to their interpretation, was "No," in the most decided manner. "Why not?" An alphabet was then laid on the table, and, certainly, the proceeding was very curious. We began: A, the table stood still; B, it gave three taps. That was set down as the first letter of the answer. We then began again: A, the table was silent; B, still silent. We went on till we came to E, then there were three taps. This was proceeded with till the words were made out,-"Because he laughs."