The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, October 2, 1898, Page 17

A} _AlNs s \ED MR R O cegeee / Dallir recently con- piritualism and. she called Vi- n a Manifestation. The neigh- , rudely material, called it fits. -But then ev vorld depends on, the point of view clung enthusiastically to hers not change theirs. 1's demon-is young. Viola is young, too—a little Put the demon is even younger—a mat- ur or five months. He came into the - invitation, so to speak, of a spirit me. ted-a room from Mrs. Dallingsford ana t the door of it open while she tipped te out messages from the spirit world 1 the nature of little girls of ten to pass Mrs. and the doors of this kind without looking in. Sometim; it éven in the nature of thelr mothers. Mrs. ford and- Viola p: ed. And one fine day the lady medium caught them at it. And < order them off about their business and close her door forever after on her own? nc In the most polite and persuasive B! d- them in and seated them beside : table and called in Mrs. Dallings- ford’s dead brothir—who was also Viola’s uncle—tor their- entertainme veling and on the. v to come-again, Which the nd’ when they went away mar- le mightily pleased, invited them did very frequently and, to malke a short story shorter, in two weeks had made eonye ©of them both = Converts? hat do little girls of ten know of As? of .childhood is faith in all things—in mothers’ e :lally. Mrs. Dallingsford becan.e an ardent bellever in Viola remalied a believer in her mother. lidy mediwm said the child had a great gift and to develop it. Ner :nsitive, imaginative, - “eredlulous, precocious childhod is material which may véloped into almost any hing. The lady medium’s Bue; rmed to tip tablek, to conjure spirit rap- on the closel slates, to read with -5, to answer meéntal questions, to find , to reveal the vames of the stranger —and, speak’ it softly among spiritualists!— i AT ust as everything was koing along so well, © the gift vutgrew the child. She began to hold herself strangely, ‘to start and listen. when there was no gound, to speak and smile in answer to unheard volces, look on carthly things with bright, far eyes, to cry Sometimes He Comes to Me out in her sleep that there w a great white light about her bed, and that she heard the spirits calling her and felt the touch of their hand And Mrs, Dallingsford, who, with all her faith, saw and heard and felt none of these things, looked on her child with awe and felt no fear—for the mother was asleep in the spiritualist. Even when the spirits which Viola had seemed to control took their turn at con- trolling her and one evil spirit in particular seized on the child whenever she set about the ceremonies of table-tipping and. message-writing, threw the pencii from her fingers, fling her arms about, twisted hex little head on its slender neck and even lifted her small body from the chair and flung it to the floor, Mrs. Dallingsford contentedly received the lady me- dium’s explanation that the spiritual férce in Viola was too great for her physical strength and that with vears would come the power to control and direct it. Meantime, said the lady medium, Mrs. Dallingsfora and Viola must be patiznt, there was nothing to be done. And since there was nothing to be done the lady medium gave up her room at Mrs. Dallingsford’s house on Sixth street and went her proselyting ways and left the mother alone with the child and the spiritual force that was too strong for them both. It was about this time that the neighbors began saying that the Dallingsford child had fits and, as the spiritual force in Viola took the form of biting, scratching, kicking and hair-pulling, Mrs. Dallings- ford, still respectful and belleving, decided to remove the Mani tation from her immediate neighborhood and sent Viola for a change on a vigit to her country cousins who live in the hills heyond San Rafael. I went there to see her with the man who dis. covered her. He told me this story on the warm ana quiet way over dusty roads which lead out of San Rafael to the dip of the hills where Viola lives now with her demon and her country cousins. He finished it neatly just as we got to the door. It was a screen door, locked on the inside agalnst another door. The blinds were closed and fastened. « shadow of great trees-lay heavily on the porch. ‘reeping, flowerless things sagged from the walls. The place looked dead and buried. “Br-r-r-r!” s=aid I. “I would have demons here myself. Blue devils, blask butterflies! Where's the sun?” “Vi—o—la!"” So sweet, so faint, so fair—trickling through the silence like a little silver stream. “Vi-o-la! Open the door!” “Who is it?” I asked. “Is she as sweet as the sounds?”’ But just then Viola opened the door. She opened 1t 1nto & biack little hall and stood in the angle of it— in a Broad Streak of Light. a small, dark figure, gathering all the light into her white, white little face. She looked at us curiously and smilelessly. e en e “I'll write first,” she said, and a pencil and some copy paper being furnished by her visitors she sits down, pencil in hand, and waits quietly. There is no paraphernalia, no screen of darkness, no singing of hymns, no gasps and weird passing of hands. Her seat is her mother’s lap, a book answers for a table, and the sunlight sifting through the vines falls on her smooth hair and smiling childish face. A minute drags slowly by in silence so deep that the dog, stretched on the carpet at his playmate's feet, wakes and cocks an interrogative eye at the spell- bound group, then expresses his opinion of us by a contemptuous yawn, stretches himself out an inch or so longer and goes to sleep again. The artist gives me a covert glance expressive of amused skepticism—it is all so bald and bare and above-board, such a clumsy attempt at imitation ot mediumistic methods, that even my faith in the little one's honesty of purpose begins to waver. She will probably scrawl some non-committal messages of her own volition and— A sudden tremor runs down the thin little arm and strikes the supine fingers like an electric shock. The hand, with the pencil held in a vise-like grip, begins to beat a fierce tattoo upon the paper and dart to and fro above it so swiftly ana erratically that the eye can scarcely follow its move- ments. Viola looks up and laughs. “They have come!" she says, delightedly, and then the mother asks the artist, who stands nearest, to steady the convulsively jerking arm by placing his hand upon it. His touch produces instant cessation of motion and for a few _seconds rigidity takes the place of excited muscular action; then the restraining grasp is shaken off as easily as though it were a bit of dust upon her sleeve, and with a strong, firm stroke the little hand draws half a dozen lines straight across the paper. “They are used to ruled paper,” explains Viola, and she be- gins to write. The “spirits(?)” who have come to us are the two, presumably Viola’s brother and uncle, who have “written through her(?)” since she first came under “the influence(?)” and they prove well-mannered ana amiable. They give us their names and a polite greet- ing, and then as I am beginning to feel doubtful again, since it is easy for even a child to write things like these, Viola turns her face upon me suddenly. “This next is for you,” she says, “no one eise must look.” She has passed all the other messages rap:dly into the hand nearest her—this she folds carefully and gives to me. I take it to the window and open it and mx heart ] = AN\ strikes me a sudden sharp blow that makes my nerves quiver strangely for a spa Before I crossed the bay I had made a compact with the air in far-off San Francisco that this little girl, whom I never saw and who never saw or heard of me or mine, would write me certain words and sign them with a certain name, I would at least believe that something beyond herself made such a thing possible. The words and name are there! “They don't want to write much to-day,” says Viola, “they have got out of practice, but this,” scrib- bling hastily and indicating the artist with a nod, “is for you, though the others must see it.” We do see it and it says: “You had mutton chops, baked potatoes and two big glasses of beer.” The mother laughs outright. “Viola has told,” she says, and the artist’s face is a confession, grotesquely blended with surprised mystification. No one present but the ‘artist himself knew what he had eaten for dirner. “My other control is coming now,” declared the child, “and you folks must look out or you'll get hurt She rose to her feet and started to put the pencil and paper on the table. Half-way across the room she dropped to the floor as if her legs were shot from under her. The men sprang to her assistance and found that they have entered into conflict with some- thing which seemed like nothing so much as a sen- tient “live wire.” Viola is, as I have said, a slender child even for her years, small-boned and thin, with absolutely no perceptible muscular development what- ever, but one of her little sticks of arms proves too much for a man to control though he exeérted all his strength in the effort. Gripped at wrist and above the elbow by hands whose owner prides himself upon his athletic prowess, the puny arm was twisted backward and forward, and up and down, and around and around as if it were a writhing snake, instead of a part of a human body subservient to restrictions of joint and bone and cartilage. “Look out,” she said again. “I shall hurt you if you don’t hold me tight. I can’t help it—it is too strong for me, you see.” And “it” is “strong” surely, and she does “hurt” most decidedly, for she strikes with her fists, and butts with her head, and kicks with her feet, atd hammers with her knees, and bites with her white little teeth, and pinches with her pretty little fingers, anything and everywhere strikable, butt- able, kickable, hammerable, bitable and pinchable with which she is allowed to come in contact during the next two hours. “They throw me,” she had explained previously, and, strangely enough, all her movements seemed to be actuated not from within but without. She struck out with apparently no personal intention. but as if some unseen and irresistibly strong person stood be- = side her and .flung her hands at the person or thing to be hit. She kicked in all directions in the same way —as if her legs were thrown about by some external force. She ran at us as if pushed violently. from be- hind. She beat herself, or, rather, was beaten, against persons ‘and floor and wall as if she were a rag doll in the hands of a naughty child. Prone .on the floor, held down firmly by head and shoulders and arms, with her mother sitting solidly on her knees, she “trotted” that mother, baby- fashion, for a time and then shaking off her human entanglements as easily as Samson of old hroke the withes, raised herself straight up to a sitting posture as if pulled up by hands reaching down to her from above. Through it all her face had the expression of that of a pleasantly interested spectator. She was per- fectly conscious of all that occirred and faughed when some particularly hard experience brought words of sympathy from the neophytes whom she was drag- ging merrily about as they endeavored to keep her from doing them and herself ‘bodily harm. She was kept. too busy, however, to-talk much, for Satan, or something véry much like him, found unbounded mis- chief for not only her hands but every member and joint of her body to do. From a gentle, polite aud rather diffident child she seemed to have been meta- morphosed into a veritable imp as far as physical manifestations were concerned. Rolled in a comforter with her arms straight down by her sides, made a pappoose bundle of by encircling ropes, ahd laid in. the middle of a double bed, she flung herself, ‘or, Tather, was flung, bodily from that safe spot out upon the floor again. Tied in this way she for the first time complained. #Undo me, quick!” .she said, “I am choking! It gets me by the throat if you don't let it work,” and we untied her hastily and let “it work(?)” as it would@ subject as before to our unifed efforts to keep the child and ourselves from serious personal damage. An hour of such occupation feund us all tired, dis- heveled and nearly deliquesced, for the day was torrid and uttefly unsuited for a continuous series of muscu- lar exercise moré severe and complicated ‘than the most enthusiastic Delsartian ever dreamed of. Viola on the other hand was cool as-to her writhing little body, calm as to her-pulse, and collected as to her mind. Neither pulse nor temperature had- risen in the least since we sat together on the doorstep and petted Cuba between us. We three strangers took her out into the open afir, out under God’s sunshine among the trees and vines and away from all other influences physical and men- tal, and vainly tried to control the force that possessed her. - She smiled up in our faces, but her body defrted our efforts to master it and did as it would still 'in spite of us. D For an hour more the struggle’ went on. ‘It seemed to us novices as if we had evolved an unseen Frank= enstein. We were beaten and bruised and flung about, and were forced to “'spell” each other in order to get breath and strength enough to act as buffers between the girl and her surroundings. A little more than two hours after the “other con- trol” arrived on the scene Viola, stood straight and quietly on her feet once more. i < “Good-by,” she id grufily, with an odd ducking motion of her head, and we realized in an -instant that she possessed herself once again and seemed’ to be no longer ‘‘possessed.” “Mamma,” she said, going over to the pale little woman who is no longer pale but rosy red, “let me go down to the station with you folks. It's only a mile and a half, and get tired staying up here on the-hill with nothing to do all day long.” : : And when we dragged ourselves wearily car-ward that child danced along beside us every step of the long, dusty way. e jon of Viola Dallings- that they are ‘seemingly thod of reasoning. Her “Whatever may be the oc ford's “spell: certain it inexplicible by any ordinary mother, together with the w spiritualists who -have been permitted to see her, beli that, grown to womanhood, she will be one of the most wenderful mediums that the world has ever known. “When she is older,” they say, “‘she will control-tha power instead of letting it control her.” “Is she controlled by a power?” F. MACVAHON. Paso Roifles’ Lonely Streetcar. L PASO DE ROBLES of mud-bath famé pos- sesses a unique car line, its distmguishing fea- ture being the fact that all the :oflic taining thereto are centered, in ane ind M. S. Prime, the owner of thé road distinction of being president, treasurer, s director, conductor, driver, spotter, etc.,"all.rolled into one, of the corporation known as ‘the “'P: Robles Street Railway Company.” True it is.net an extensive concern, the rolling stock consisting” of just-one.bob- tail car that has seen better days, -and Has-probably’ done service right lere in our metropolis at some period of its career. This car is drawn:by a respect- able looking horse, which. the village wag -has saia “Is biind in one eye and can’t see vut of the other. But, nevertheless, that animal unerringly -follows the three miles of track from the railroad ‘dépot through the town, called in a foreign tongue -‘Pass of the Oaks,” down to the mud bathg, and r and he really needs no guiding hand on his-j M. S. Prime, who. may be- said to b “Vining of Paso Robles,” is a man who has 1 thé allottea three score and ten, and though bent with the of his years is quite active, and told some int details regarding his road, which, fo Lim, I known, is a serious proposition. He told how bought the road some years ago b eeding aw houses and lots in Alameda County, in‘ret ing the horse, the car, the three miles of course, the franchise. which. he na has forty-four years t to run. H an accident nor a s for damages and that bright record to his exceeding carefulnes at not running his car at a high rate of speed. ' usual sign, “Do not jump off the car. while in metion,” is displayed, a seemingly unnecessary caution, con- sidering the slowness of the motion. ’ The utmest license prevails on this car, smoking _ being allowed within as well as without, and the old. gentleman has provided a small but select library for those of his passengers who have a literary bent. This lonely car has other advantages not to be despised. There is never any danger of col D" s it holds un- ° disputed sway; it knows no ccmplicated transfer ar- rangement, such as prevails in our metropolitah sys- tem, and has driven many a distracted passenger to an early grave or to drink. And just think of the rib- bons being handled by the president of the road him- self! What a sense of security! Added to this, the road is the mecca of small boys, who are allowed to_ ride free by the generous proprietor, a condition of this privilege being that when the car is going up grade they jump off and help it along by vigorous pushes, a condition faithfully carried out. Mr. Prime is nct of a grasping disposition, as most monopolists are. He is satisfied with little, as the fol- lowing will show. Being asked one evening how busi- ness was with him, he replied: “Very good to-day. I had three passengers this morning and five this after- noon.” These, at 20 cents each for the round trip, would make his receipts just §1 60 for that day.