Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 June 1886 — Foster, the Medium. [ARTICLE]

Foster, the Medium.

Some years ago, when Foster was giving sittings on Girard street at $5 a sit, he was visited by a friend of mine, a man of intellect and common sense, and yet when ho came away he was in a completely dazed condition of mind, not knowing what to think about what lie had witnessed. Let me relate one thing that amazed him. He was ushered into a small reception-room and told to write his name on a piece of paper and with his own hands seal it in an envelope. He sat down before the only table in the room and 'wrote his name—we will assume it to be John Smith—as directed, taking care to so conceal the writing that it could not be seen from abeve or from any other direction. He placed it in an envelope, sealed it and held it in one hand. The attendant then withdrew. In a few moments Foster entered and eyed his visitor with a piercing glance, as though reading his innermost thoughts. Suddenly extending his right hand, he ejaculated, “How are you, Mr. John Smith?”

The visitor started back in surprise, as he was certain Foster had never seen him before. “How do you know .my name ?” he wonderingly inquired. In deep tones Foster replied: “It is written in my blood.” With that he bared his left arm to the elbow, and seizing the still sealed envelope from Mr. Smith’s hand, crumpled it vigorously over the under and tender part of his arm. Over that member spread a glow through which bright crimson lines appeared, and in a few moments, emblazoned on the arm in fiery letters of blood, was the name of “ John Smith.” The amazed visitor, at Foster’s invitation, tried to wash the letters out with water, but the more he rubbed the brighter they became, until he was convinced—which was the fact—that the letters were beneath the skin and were caused by the man’s own blood. Wonderful you say, and that is what I said when I first heard of it. But I didn’t believe it was supernatural, for the very simple reason that if disembodied spirits are roaming around us they have certainly something better to do than to be writing names on men’s arms in order to enable a lazy scoundrel to put a five-dollar note in his swelling purse. Now that I know how the trick was done I am surprised only at its simplicity. In the first place, Foster has to ascertain his visitor’s name. This he did by a simple device. When Mr. Smith sat at the only table in the room he was unaware that beneath the writing pad was'what is called “copying paper,” an oiled and blackened sheet, which, when placed beneath the paper one is writing upon, conveys the impression to another piece of paper beneath it. The same kind of paper is used in making duplicate copies in tpye writing. A hard pencil was placed where Mr. Smith would pick it up, and in order to write his name he unconsciously bore down upon the copying paper. The attendant expertly withdrew the copy and carried it to his employer. Now to prepare for the blood act. Bare your arm to the elbow. In the right hand hold a thin piece of steel, but with a slightly rounded edge that will not cut. As you probably do not possess such an instrument, take a portion of a very stiff visiting or business card, and bearing its edges rather hard upon the under portion of your arm, follow the outlines of any letters you choose. The result will be barely-dis-cernible white lines that soon pass away. Five minutes later, with your hand on a crumpled piece of paper, rub that portion of your arm as vigorously as you can, and you will be surprised when you see the letters you have outlined appearing beneath the skin in the full vividness of your own blood. Now you see what Foster did. He marked the name “John Smith” on hi s arm, drew down his shirt sleeve, put on his coat, and walked into the reception room. His rubbing the envelope over the arm was simply intended to delude John Smith with the be-. lief that his name was conveyed from the inclosed paper to Foster’s blood. Simple, isn’t it? Yet it is far more complex than most of the mediumistic tricks. There are endless varieties o| the deception.

How strange it is that ideas in various parts of the globe are so contradictory! For instance, take the question of girls. In spite pf our advancing ideas we have a general conviction that girls should not be put to very hard work. We shield them if we can. In Asia and Africa, on the contrary, in spite of all we are always hearing oi lazy lives of women in those countries, an old belief prevails that they were born to labor. The same is true in many parts of Germany. In Turkestan and on the Tartar steppes the Kirghese sultanas and their daughters, in whose veins flows the of long lines of, kings, still milk the sheep, cows, and goats, and perform the menial duties of the household. They reverse the order of things. The mother wears silk and the daughter calico; the mother cultivates accomplishments and the daughter does the drudgery; in fact, they really consider the mother entitled to the.best of everything! Such is it to be uncivilized. There the mother is at home in the drawing-room and the daughter in the kitchen, and we would look in vain for the fashionable and well-educated girl to scorn her mother. What a blessed state ol affairs!