Getting from A to B in Katsuhito Ishii's The Taste of Tea 

 

We love finding Ouija boards referenced in old yearbooks.  And check out how they charmingly spelled superstitious:

If

Were you a mystic spirit,
And I a ouija board,
   We'd kick up such a rumpus
   That the mediums would pump us
Of occult news and smear it
On the superstitutious [sic] horde;
Were you a mystic spirit,
And I a ouija board.

From Mansfield State Normal School's Semaphore, 1921.  See also our guide to the Care and Feeding of a Spirit Board.  In the words of the celebrated magician Eugene Burger, "what a lovely and strange book it is!"

See The Care & Feeding of a Spirit Board. 

"She pushes it into a mustard-pot, which stands on the table," from Dicks' English Library of Standard Works, 1884.

It's said that interrupting is a sign of a bad listener, but remember that ghosts don't have ears.  This interrupting ghost materializes in  by J. Gobb Holmes, 1889.

From Phosphor by Friedrich Freksa, 1912.

From The Davenport Brothers, 1869.  This should be of interest: Seance Parlor Feng Shui.

From The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, 1888.

"The bells chime out all weird" at the Tron Church of Edinburgh, from Memories of the Months by Hume Nisbet, 1889.

"Mammy, here's your old friend, Henry the Eighth." —Mammy 'mongst the Wild Nations of Europe by Ruthella Rernara Bibbins, 1904

Our illustration to this story appears in St. Nicholas magazine, 1904.

"Birds are seen approaching in the air carrying nests full of eggs in their beaks."  From The Paradise of Birds by William John Courthope and illustrated by Lancelot Speed, 1889.

From the Agnes Scott Institute's Aurora yearbook, 1897.  See How to Hoodoo Hack a Yearbook.

From The World of Romance, 1892.

"Behold the object of your guilty love!"  From Dicks' English Library of Standard Works, 1884.

This is the best sun-riven-in-twain we've seen all week, from Prodigiorvm Ac Ostentorvm Chronicon, 1557.

The Mysterious Mask: A Story of Old London, 1889.

"My own ghost," from Wanderings of a War Artist, written and illustrated by Irving Montagu, 1889.

An ad from 1886.

"The alphabet is all around us—not only in books." —My ABC's  

From an 1899 advertisement.

Rorschachism begins at a very young age, as we see in 'Round the Hearth, edited by Robert Ellice Mach, 1889.  The caption reads, "A big, black blot."

By the way, the parlor game of Klexographie inspired the famous Rorschach inkblot test, and here's our online widget for using inkblots to answer deep questions.

From the Epitome yearbook of Lehigh University, 1896.  See How to Hoodoo Hack a Yearbook.

"I saw the world as it had been before man was," from Cleopatra by Henry Rider Haggard and illustrated by R. C. Woodville, 1889.

The "Seven Sleepers" Spread

Here's a seven-card Tarot spread based upon the ancient legend of the Seven Sleepers, a Greek story popularized in Christian and Islamic lore about a group of youths fleeing from religious persecution who fall asleep in a grotto outside of Ephesus and awake centuries later to find a very changed world.  (It's a rather heart-wrenching tale, as the awakened sleepers go off in search of their families and find only strangers living in their homes who treat them as if they've gone mad.  The seven finally realize that they had slept for centuries and do not belong to this new world, so they lay themselves down to die.)  The Roman Martyrology commemorates them on July 27, hence the timing of our Tarot spread in their honor.  Our illustration appears in a retelling of the story by the great American humorist Mark Twain.  Though the sleepers' names have been lost to the ravages of time, Twain identifies them thusly: Trump, Gift, Game, Jack, Low, High, and Johannes Smithianus.  

Draw one card for each sleeper in turn.  Here's how to approach the seven, and because the legend is so old, we'll include some antiquated interpretations:

Trump: Like the "trump card" of a game, this points to a valuable resource that you can use in order to gain an advantage, perhaps in a surprising way.  An antiquated meaning for "trump" is a helpful or admirable person.

Gift: This suggests something that ought be given willingly, without compensation, like a present or donation or bequest.  It may also suggest a natural ability/talent that you can tap.  An antiquated meaning for "gift" is a "thing lifted up," as in an offering or sacrifice to a higher power.

Game: This refers to a competition, a pleasurable distraction, perhaps a gambit.  Skill, strength, or luck may be at play.  Antiquated meanings of "game" are "a jest or joke" and "a laughing stock," so the Tarot card would identify something to be lighthearted about.

Jack: A jack is a device for lifting heavy objects, so a Tarot card placed here will identify a way to ease a burden.  An antiquated meaning of "jack" is an unskilled worker (hence the old saying, "a jack of all trades and master of none"), so the Tarot card would point to something that needs training, experience, or practice.

Low and High: The "highs and lows" of life recall the Hermetic axiom, "As above, so below."  Low (something worldly) will illuminate what is reflecting from on high (something spiritual).  A Tarot card on "low" might indicate a stepping stone, while that on "high" might point to something to reach toward.  An antiquated meaning for "high" is "holy," so the Tarot card would indicate something sacred.  An antiquated meaning for "low" is "shout," so the Tarot card would carry a strong emotion.

Johannes Smithianus: This is a fancy way of saying "John Smith," or a typical human being.  Everyman is the name of the principal character in the 15-century morality play.  The Tarot card here will point to your better qualities, such as kindness or sensitivity.  Originally, "human" and "humane" were the same word, so an antiquated meaning is "compassion."

Three optional cards to draw:

Mark Twain notes that on the gravestones of the seven sleepers were also inscribed, in ancient letters, the "names of three heathen gods of olden time, perchance: Rumpunch, Jinsling, [and] Egnog [sic]."  So three additional cards may be drawn:

Rumpunch: One of the original names for this sugarcane liquor rum was "kill-devil," so a Tarot card for "Rumpunch" would point to a way to dispel darkness.

Jinsling: An old nickname for this juniper berry liquor gin is "kill-grief," so a Tarot card for "Jinsling" would point to a way to dispel sorrow.

Egnog: This creamy egg punch ritualistically marks the occasion of a holiday and is synonymous with comfort, so a Tarot card for "Egnog" would point to a source of strength, relief, encouragement, consolation, and/or cheer.

A final possible card:

Some versions of the legend, including Mark Twain's, feature a canine companion to the seven sleepers.  The dog Ketmehr accompanied the seven when he accidentally ran his head through the loop of a noose that one of the youths was carelessly carrying.  When the seven fell asleep in the cave, Ketmehr lay at the entrance and scared off any strangers who approached.  So a Tarot card in honor of Ketmehr would point to a guardian or source of protection, perhaps even an accidental or unwilling safeguard.  In the legend, when the sleepers awaken, the dog is long gone, with nothing save the brass that was upon his collar as evidence that he had kept guard.

Mark Twain's account of the seven sleepers appears in The Innocents Abroad, 1869.  The earliest known version of the story traces back to the Syrian bishop Jacob of Sarug (c. 450–521), itself derived from an earlier though lost Greek source.  A well-known medieval version of the story appears in Jacobus de Voragine's Golden Legend (c. 1260).  The story is also told in the Qur'an (Surah 18, verses 9–26).

We learn here that turning a frown upside down doesn't require a full inversion.  From With the Children on Sundays, Through Eye-Gate, and Ear-Gate into the City of Child-Soul by Sylvanus Stall, 1911.

From The Conquest of the Moon by André Laurie, 1889.

Mysteries of the Unseen by Gilbert Edward Campbell, 1889.

We're down on this illustration.  From Wanderings of a War Artist, written and illustrated by Irving Montagu, 1889.  The caption reads, "Down with everything."

From The Comic History of England by Gilbert Abbott A'Beckett and illustrated by John Leech, 1847.

This is identified by the Internet Archive as being from the 1776 proceedings of the general assembly of New Jersey, and we embrace it as a test of our agnosticism.  See for yourself: https://www.flickr.com/photos/internetarchivebookimages/14595563708/

Sometimes happiness is right in front of us, as we see in this ad from 1893.

This is the proper way to pluralize the ampersand.  From Shakespeare: A Revelation: A Novel by Henry Lumley, 1899.  Our lavishly illustrated Ampersand opus explores the history and pictography of the most common coordinating conjunction.

"The last moments and an unfinished picture," from Bohemian Paris of To-day by William Chambers Morrow and illustrated by Édouard Cucuel, 1899.

The discovery of a fairy ring from St. Nicholas magazine, 1904.

"He is doomed to sail forever," from Zigzag Journeys in the Antipodes by Hezekiah Butterworth, 1889.

Here's a precious secret of immortality: train a peach tree to spell "Davie," and you'll not only live forever but also enjoy luscious peaches.  This we learn in The Peach and Nectarine by David Taylor Fish, 1879.  But note in the text that only immortality is guaranteed, and the peaches are a mere "perhaps."

This is one of the gloomiest candles we've ever seen, back from when children were taught how to make black holes at home.  From With the Children on Sundays, Through Eye-Gate, and Ear-Gate into the City of Child-Soul by Sylvanus Stall, 1911.

"He serves beer in 'Heaven,'" from Bohemian Paris of To-day by William Chambers Morrow and illustrated by Édouard Cucuel, 1899.

Here's one of those marvelous moments in which a sitcom character gains self-awareness, from the "Strong Stuff, This Insurance" episode of Are You Being Served?  Mrs. Slocombe, famous for saying things like, "Today's the day my pussy comes of age," tells a co-worker, "Everything you say is full of innuendo and double-entendre."

From Haverford College Athletic Annual and 1900 Class Book.

"Raising the wind," from Our New Way Round the World by Charles Carleton Coffin, 1883.

Here's further proof that the man in the moon is a lady.  We find it in Jules Verne's From the Earth to the Moon Direct in Ninety-Seven Hours and Twenty Minutes, and a Trip Round It, 1874.  See our previous evidence (here) that the man in the moon is a lady.

"The funny gentleman's arrival," from Dicks' English Library of Standard Works, 1884.

From España Negra, written and illustrated by Émile Verhaeren, 1899.

"Violet was on the eve of making a confession, but checked herself."  From The Wonder of Kingswood Chace by Pierce Egan the Younger, 1890.

"Struggled with all her will-power against the hypnotic infuence," from 1890.

BIBLIOGRAPHY TEMPLATE

(courtesy of Jonathan Caws-Elwitt)

The Early One That's Out of Print, and Good Luck Getting Your Hands On It

The One Everybody Has Read

The One No One Ever Reads

The One You'll Read If You Absolutely Have to Read More Than One

The One That's Pretty Good, But It's Nonfiction / A Story Collection / Co-Written with Another Author, So It Doesn't Really Count

The Later Work That You've Tried to Get Through But Just Can't

The Posthumously Published One That We're Not Sure Was Completed to the Author's Satisfaction

The Lost Manuscript That Showed Up Later (But We'd All Lost Interest By Then)

From Leslie's Fate; and Hilda, or the Ghost of Erminstein by Andrew Charles Parker Haggard, 1892.

Q: What do you call it when your caretakers convince you that your hair isn't blond enough?

A: [Highlight to view text] Munchausen by peroxide.

Here's the proper way to exit a fancy dress party, from Bohemian Paris of To-day by William Chambers Morrow and illustrated by Édouard Cucuel, 1899.

"The wonderful oyster," from The Oxford Thackeray.

"He stayed indoors all day, only venturing out after dark."  From Blind Love by Wilkie Collins and illustrated by A. Forestier, 1890.

"The Mayans were wrong. When Liv Ullman sings, 'The world is a circle without a beginning,' that's when the world ends." —Eric Henderson's scathing review of Lost Horizon for Slant Magazine

From Journeys through Bookland by Charles Herbert Sylvester, 1922.

"A legend is also a habit." —César Aira (as translated by Katherine Silver), The Literary Conference

"Mr. Fogg dreams," from Dicks' English Library of Standard Works, 1884.

"One of the offices of man is to close his eyes and hold them tight shut to see if the dream that was interrupted when the night was young will continue through the dead hours." —Machado de Assis, Dom Casmurro

Here's a page from How to Hoodoo Hack a Yearbook on the power of anagrams.  But to be clear, we don't condone antipathy.  As the old idiom goes, "Kill 'em with kindness."