OAHSPE AND THE REMARKABLE MR. NEWBROUGH

One morning the die was cast for real. A light struck the backs of both of Newbrough’s hands and led him to his typewriter for fifteen minutes of a vigorous pounding of the keys. Though he had never mastered the art of typing on his own, suddenly he was serving as a channel for a very competent typist. He was told not to read what he was typing, and, fearful of losing his spiritual connection to his source, he obeyed that order reverently. The basic pattern repeated itself morning after morning.