Sir Arthur Conan Doyle The Land Of Mis

I will write you and Mrs. Debbs will give you a sitting gratis. Thats better than taking your chance in the crowd when with all the will in the world you cant all get a turn. Youll have her to yourself. No sir theres no use shovin . . . Whats that? . . . Press?
  He had caught Malone by the elbow.
  Did you say Press? The Press boycott us sir. Look at the weekly list of services in a Saturdays Times if you doubt it. You wouldnt know there was such a thing as Spiritualism. What paper sir? The Daily Gazette. Well well we are getting on. And the lady too? . . . Special article my word! Stick to me sir and Ill see what I can do. Shut the doors Joe. No use friends. When the building fund gets on a bit well have more room for you. Now Miss this way if you please.
  This way proved to be down the street and round a sidealley which brought them to a small door with a red lamp shining above it.
  Ill have to put you on the platform theres no standing room in the body of the hall.
  Good gracious! cried Enid.
  Youll have a fine view Miss and maybe get a readin for yourself if your lucky. It often happens that those nearest the medium get the best chance. Now sir in here!
  Here was a frowsy little room with some hats and topcoats draping the dirty whitewashed walls. A thin austere woman with eyes which gleamed from behind her glasses was warming her gaunt hands over a small fire. With his back to the fire in the traditional British attitude was a large fat man with a bloodless face a ginger moustache and curious lightblue eyes the eyes of a deepsea mariner. A little baldheaded man with huge hornrimmed spectacles and a very handsome and athletic youth in a blue loungesuit completed the group.
  The others have gone on the platform Mr. Peeble. Theres only five seats left for ourselves. It was the fat man talking.
  I know I know said the man who had been addressed as Peeble a nervous stringy driedup person as he now appeared in the light. But this is the Press Mr. Bolsover. Daily Gazette special article. Malone the name and Challenger. This is Mr. Bolsover our President. This is Mrs. Debbs of Liverpool the famous clairvoyante. Here is Mr. James and this tall young gentleman is Mr. Hardy Williams our energetic secretary. Mr. Williams is a nailer for the buildin fund. Keep your eye on your pockets if
Mr. Williams is around.  They all laughed.
  Collection comes later said Mr. Williams smiling.
  A good rousing article is our best collection said the stout president. Ever been to a meeting before sir?  No said Malone.
  Dont know much about it I expect.
  No I dont.
  Well well we must expect a slating. They get it from the humorous angle at first. Well have you writing a very comic account. I never could see anything very funny in the spirit of ones dead wife but its a matter of taste and of knowledge also. If they dont know how can they take it seriously? I dont blame them. We were mostly like that ourselves once. I was one of Bradlaughs men and sat under Joseph MacCabe until my old
Dad came and pulled me out.
  Good for him! said the Liverpool medium.
  It was the first time I found I had powers of my own. I saw him like I see you now.
  Was he one of us in the body?
  Knew no more than I did. But they come on amazin at the other side if the right folk get hold of them.
  Times up! said Mr. Peeble snapping his watch. You are on the right of the chair Mrs. Debbs. Will you go first? Then you Mr. Chairman. Then you two and myself. Get on the left Mr. Hardy Williams and lead the singin. They want warmin up and you can do it. Now then if you please!
  The platform was already crowded but the newcomers threaded their way to the front amid a decorous murmur of welcome. Mr. Peeble shoved and exhorted and two end seats emerged upon which Enid and Malone perched themselves. The arrangement suited them well for they could use their notebooks freely behind the shelter of the folk in front.
  What is your reaction? whispered Enid.
  Not impressed as yet.
  No nor I said Enid but its very interesting all the same.
  People who are in earnest are always interesting whether you agree with them or not and it was impossible to doubt that these people were extremely earnest. The hall was crammed and as one looked down one saw line after line of upturned faces curiously alike in type women predominating but men running them close. That type was not distinguished nor intellectual but it was undeniably healthy honest and sane. Small tradesfolk male and female shopwalkers better class artisans lower middleclass women worn with household cares occasional young folk in search of a sensation these were the impressions which the audience conveyed to the trained observation of Malone.
  The fat president rose and raised his hand.
  My friends said he we have had once more to exclude a great number of people who desired to be with us tonight. Its all a question of the building fund and Mr. Williams on my left will be glad to hear from any of you I was in a hotel last week and they had a notice hung up in the reception bureau No cheques accepted. Thats not the way Brother Williams talks. You just try him.
  The audience laughed. The atmosphere was clearly that of the lecturehall rather than of the Church.
  Theres just one more thing I want to say before I sit down. Im not here to talk. Im here to hold this chair down and I mean to do it. Its a hard thing I ask. I want Spiritualists to keep away on Sunday nights. They take up the room that inquirers should have. You can have the morning service. But its better for the cause that there should be room for the stranger. Youve had it. Thank God for it. Give the other man a chance. The president plumped back into his chair.
  Mr. Peeble sprang to his feet. He was clearly the general utility man who emerges in every society and probably becomes its autocrat. With his thin eager face and darting hands he was more than a live wire he was a whole bundle of live wires. Electricity seemed to crackle from his fingertips.
  Hymn One! he shrieked.
  A harmonium droned and the audience rose. It was a fine hymn and lustily sung
  The world hath felt a quickening breath From Heavens eternal shore
And souls triumphant over death Return to earth once more.
  There was a ring of exultation in the voices as the refrain rolled out
  For this we hold our Jubilee For this with joy we sing Oh Grave where is thy victory Oh Death where is thy sting?
  Yes they were in earnest these people. And they did not appear to be mentally weaker than their fellows. And yet both Enid and Malone felt a sensation of great pity as they looked at them. How sad to be deceived upon so intimate a matter as this to be duped by impostors who used their most sacred feelings and their beloved dead as counters with which to cheat them. What did they know of the laws of evidence of the cold immutable decrees of scientific law? Poor earnest honest deluded people!
  Now! screamed Mr. Peeble. We shall ask Mr. Munro from
Australia to give us the invocation.
  A wildlooking old man with a shaggy beard and slumbering fire in his eyes rose up and stood for a few seconds with his gaze cast down. Then he began a prayer very simple very unpremeditated. Malone jotted down the first sentence Oh Father we are very ignorant folk and do not well know how to approach you but we will pray to you the best we know how. It was all cast in that humble key. Enid and Malone exchanged a swift glance of appreciation.
  There was another hymn less successful than the first and the chairman then announced that Mr. James Jones of North Wales would now deliver a trance address which would embody the views of his wellknown control Alasha the Atlantean.
  Mr. James Jones a brisk and decided little man in a faded check suit came to the front and after standing a minute or so as if in deep thought gave a violent shudder and began to talk. It must be admitted that save for a certain fixed stare and vacuous glazing of the eye there was nothing to show that anything save Mr. James