"My Experiences at the MacDonald Homestead"
by H. B. Whidden

...page 7

Most of the written statements were of the utmost significance and not a few of them were of an entirely personal character. For that reason the greater part of the contents of the strange manuscript will probably never be divulged.

In one place, for example, it seemed as if my sister who passed away on August 13th, 1912 was sending me a message,

One sentence in the writing which followed was:

        “People must realize that those who have passed beyond are ever present. God is merciful. God is good. He is just.”

       And later: “Spirits do visit the Earth after death.”

The whole message was full of kindly expression and sympathy. There was no sign of malice or enmity in it. It wrote that it would trouble the Macdonald no more, and that it would never appear to them.

This was followed by a farewell.

After writing and acting automatically for over two hours, my hands lay limp on the table. I gave several deep sighs and for a few minutes did not have the power to stand up. I sat looking vacantly in front of me, with a mist before my eyes. When I felt my own faculties slowly returning I stood on my feet, and felt that I was passing out. I was so weak.

I walked into the dining-room with some difficulty in a stupor, and at the request of Mary Ellen, who was toying with a pack of cards, sat down to play a game of Forty-Fives, but I could not appreciate the value of any of the cards, and at times did not seem even able to see them. After getting through one hand, I felt all the previous sensations coming back. I anxiously returned to the bedroom and asked Dr. Prince to ask “It” to leave me. My hand grasped the pencil and a few words were written in the same weird manner as before, this time saying good-bye for the last time.

I returned to the dining-room and seemed to be regaining control of my faculties, when I felt the strange presence and sensations once more. At my request, Dr. Prince asked “It” again to leave me. Its persistency began to alarm me. Four or five minutes later, however, I felt that the spirit had gone, and I was myself once more.

This may all seem incredible to some people, but every word of it is true. In fact, I have merely given the readers the skim of it: for the very best of reasons, the cream will never be written. I still have every sheet of paper upon which the message was written and will preserve them as the most valuable document in my possession.

Those who wish to scoff and ridicule this simple story are at liberty to do so. It is not many weeks ago that my own credulity would not have been equal to it, but as I have already intimated, these events have revolutionized my mnd. The communication was, I am convinced, from at last one spirit. Its name was given; significant evidential statements were made. I will, as a result, believe to the hour of my death at least, that the fires in Alexander Macdonald’s house and the mysterious unfastening of his cattle were caused by spirits.

At my request, Dr. Prince repeated the test on four subsequent occasions before we left the house, but there was no further manifestation of automatic writing. My fingers had the prickly sensation, my right hand became slightly numb and it felt as if there was a pressure on it. But there was no feeling of numbness about my heart, and the tests were a disappointment to me, because I confidently felt that there would be a repetition to some extent at least of the transmission of written messages. This, I learned later, however was strongly evidential in itself. Had the automatic writing of Friday night come from my sub-conscious mind, were not the conditions for its recurrence even much more favorable when the subsequent tests were undertaken—when my mind was concentrated on it, and I was confident of success?