Fifty Years a Medium – Chapter 13, 10/13 by Estelle Roberts
The next morning Barbanell sent a telegram to Mrs. Burgess, briefly outlining the facts and telling her he was writing to send full details. He received a telegram in acknowledgment and, some days later, a long letter confirming the information, her son had given us.
“I really cannot tell you how I feel about it,” she wrote. “It is just wonderful. The suspense has been awful, but the load is lifted now. He must have seen me weeping and talking to his photograph. We were all the world to each other and I have prayed unceasingly that I might be enlightened as to where he is. Now that I know he has passed over, I shall grieve no more. I do so want him to be happy.”
On receiving this letter Barbanell generously arranged for Mrs. Burgess to come to London. He bought her to me, and Stanley spoke to her in the direct voice. His accent was very North Country.
“Mum, it’s wonderful to talk to you,” he said. “You can see now I didn’t die. None of us die.” He went on to tell her of the manner of his passing, not in harrowing description, but cheerfully as a matter of family interest.
When it was all over, Mrs. Burgess said: “I shall never forget it as long as I live. Today will remain as one of the happiest memories of my life.”
One of the great war leaders paid us a spirit visit when an unknown man visited my séance room and placed a well-smoked pipe in my hands. I said, “The vibrations from this pipe are strong and revealing. The man to whom it belonged passed suddenly and unexpectedly to the Other Side. He sends a message.
He says: ‘We’re both together. Do not mourn for us. When the end came it happened fast like this (I snapped my fingers). We heard it come but did not feel it. We are grateful that we are together.’ “
There followed some personal evidence which revealed to me that my visitor was the spirit speaker’s son.
I asked the son: “Why does he show me a mountain?” but before he could reply, I knew the answer. “He was in an aeroplane,” I said. “It crashed into the side of the mountain. He had your mother with him. He gives no name, but I think he was a wellknown man.
The next message is for me. It is to say that on earth he experimented a little in Spiritualism. He addresses you again. He wants you to know that he and your mother tried to communicate with you but failed.”
“How did they try?” the son asked.
“By knocking,” I replied, “by striking the knocker of your front door.”
“When?”