Fifty Years a Medium – Chapter 11, 5/12 by Estelle Roberts

I regard Bessy Manning’s return as flawless evidence for the after-life. No theories of telepathy or the subconscious mind can explain it away. No suggestion of collusion or any other kind of fraud can be entertained. Mrs. Manning had never met Estelle Roberts, or corresponded with her or any member of her family.

Neither had she written to me or anyone who attended these voice séances. Yet her daughter’s full name and address had been given, accompanied by a complete message which was accurate in every detail.

Later, when I met Mrs. Manning, she told me that she had prayed night and day for evidence that her daughter lived beyond the grave. Her prayer had been heard and answered. How a prayer uttered in Blackburn can produce a response in Middlesex, I do not know.

All that I do know is that it happened. This séance communication proves that some requests are heard, and that there is an organization in the Beyond able to provide the answer when conditions are appropriate.

I arranged for Mrs. Manning to come to London for the next voice séance. Her husband was unemployed. It was obviously a time of difficulty for her. I met her at St. Pancras Station, on, this, her first visit to London. She was full of excitement as I showed her some of the sights of the city before driving her down to Teddington, where the séances were held.

It was not long before Bessy, speaking through the trumpet, addressed her overjoyed mother. “Ma,” she said excitedly, “it’s Bessy speaking.”
“Yes, Bessy,” replied the mother.

Her daughter was so full of excitement that half way through her conversation the trumpet dropped, a sure sign that she could not hold the “power.”
“Bessy,” her mother said, “this is wonderful. You know how your mother loves you, don’t you?”

“It is wonderful,” Bessy replied. “God bless you, Ma. Tell Father not to worry. Tommy is here too.” She added. “We are here together. Tommy is also anxious to speak to you, Ma. It is so wonderful I don’t know how to talk . . . I am so excited.”
The Lancashire dialect was obvious in the mother’s voice when she answered: “Don’t get excited, love. Talk to Mother. Do you come into the home, Bessy?”

“You know I do,” she replied. “I’ll try to talk to you there. Day after day you talk to my picture. You stand in front of it, you pick it up and kiss it, and I watch you all the time.”