Part 27

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The next sitting is somewhat more varied. There were present Dr. X., a teacher of anatomy, Mrs. X., Mrs. W. and Miss B. Dr. X. sat at the board with Mrs. Curran:

Patience.—“Eh, gad! Here be a one who taketh Truth unto him and setteth the good dame apace that she knoweth not the name o’ her. I tell thee ’tis he who knoweth her as a sister, and telleth much o’ her, and naught he speaketh oft holdeth her, and much he speaketh holdeth little o’ her, and yet ever he holdeth her unto him. He taketh me as truth, yea, he knoweth he taketh naught and buildeth much, and much and buildeth little o’ it. I track me unto the door o’ him and knock and he heareth me.”

This, of course, referred to Dr. X. and his work, and it aroused some discussion, after which Patience asked, “Would ye I sing?” The answer being in the affirmative, she gave this little verse, also directed to Dr. X.:

Out ’pon the sea o’ learning, Floateth the barque o’ one aseek. Out ’pon troubled waters floateth the craft, Abuilded staunch o’ beams o’ truth. And though the waves do beat them high And wash o’er and o’er the prow, Fear thee not, for Truth saileth on. Set thy beacon, then, to crafts not thine, For thou hast a light for man.

“There, thou knowest me. I tell thee I speak unto him who hath truth for his very own. Set thee aweave.”

The sitters complied and received about six hundred words of the story, after which Mrs. X. took the board, remarking as she did so that she was afraid, which elicited this observation from Patience:

“She setteth aside the stream and seeth the craft afloat and be at wishing for to sail, and yet she would to see her who steereth.”

Mrs. X. gave up her place to Miss B., a teacher of botany, to whom Patience presented this tribute:

“The eye o’ her seeth but beauties and shutteth up that which showeth darked, that that not o’ beautie setteth not within the see o’ her. Yea, more; she knoweth how ’tis the dark and what showeth not o’ beauty, at His touching showeth lovely for the see o’ her.

“Such an heart! Ah, thou shouldst feast hereon. I tell thee she giveth unto multitudes the heart o’ her; and such as she dealeth unto earth, earth has need for much. She feasteth her ’pon dusts and knoweth dust shall spring forth bloom. Hurt hath set the heart o’ her, and she hath packed up the hurt with petals.”

Patience then turned her attentions again to Dr. X. “He yonder,” she said, “hath much aneath his skull’s-cap that he wordeth not.”

Thus urged, Dr. X. inquired:

“Does Patience prepare the manuscript she gives in advance? It rather seems that she reads the material to Mrs. Curran.”

“See ye,” cried Patience, “he hath spoke a thing that set aneath his skull’s-cap!” And then, in answer to his question:

“She who afashioneth loaf doth shake well the grain-dust that husks show not. Then doth she for to brew and stir and mix, else the loaf be not afit for eat.”

By grain-dust she means flour or meal, and she uses the word brew in its obsolete sense of preparation for cooking. The answer may be interpreted that she arranges the story in her mind before its dictation, and as to her formal work she has said many things to indicate that such is her method. Dr. X. then asked:

“Are these stories real happenings?”

To which Patience replied:

“Within the land o’ here [her land] be packed the days o’ Earth, and thy day hath its sister day ahere, and thy neighbor’s day and thy neighbor’s neighbor’s day. And I tell thee, didst thou afashion tale thou couldst ne’er afashion lie, for all thou hast athin thy day that thy put might show from the see o’ thee hath been; at not thy time, yea, but it hath been.”

“Then,” asked Dr. X., “should you have transmitted through one who spoke another language you would have used their tongue?”

Patience answered:

“I pettiskirt me so that ye know the me of me. Yea, and I do to take me o’ the store o’ her that I make me word for thee.”

“Pettiskirt” is a common expression of hers to mean dress, in either a literal or a figurative sense. The answer does not mean that she is limited by Mrs. Curran’s vocabulary, but is an affirmative response to the question.

The word “put” in the preceding answer is one that requires some explanation, for it is frequently used by her, and makes some of her sayings difficult to understand. She makes it convey a number of meanings now obsolete, but it usually refers to her writings, her words, her sayings. She makes a noun of it, it will be noticed, as well as a verb. In the foregoing instance it means “tale,” and it has a relation to the primary meaning of the verb, which is to place. The words that are put down become a “put,” and the writer becomes a “putter.” To a lady who told her that she had heard a sound like a bell in her ear, and asked if it was Patience trying to communicate with her, she answered dryly: “Think ye I be a tinkler o’ brass? Nay. I be a putter o’ words.” Further to illustrate this use of the word, and also to throw an interesting light upon her method of communication and the reason for it, I present here a part of a conversation in which a Dr. Z. was the interrogator.

Dr. Z.—“Why isn’t there some other means you could use more easy to manipulate than the ouija board?”

Patience.—“The hand o’ her (Mrs. Curran) do I to put (write) be the hand o’ her, and ’tis ascribe (the act of writing) that setteth the one awhither by eyes-fulls she taketh in.”

By this she seems to mean that if Mrs. Curran tried to write for Patience with a pen or pencil, the act, being always associated with conscious thought, would set her consciousness to work, and put Patience “awhither.”