Our Second American Adventure (2024)

ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

TO MY FRIEND JOHN McK. BOWMAN IN
RECOGNITION OF HIS KINDNESS AND HOSPITALITY

First UK edition: Hodder & Stoughton, London, 1924
First US edition: Little, Brown & Co., Boston, 1924

This e-book edition: Roy Glashan's Library, 2019
Version Date: 2019-03-23
Produced by Roy Glashan

All original content added by RGL is protected by copyright.

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Arthur Conan Doyle tells his second tour ofAmerica and Canada (one year after the first one) from 3 apriland 4 august 1923 where travelling from New York to Rochester,Hydesville, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Indianapolis,Chicago, St. Louis, Kansas City, Denver, Salt Lake City, LosAngeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Vancouver and Canada.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PREFACE

This volume is the third and last of a trilogy.In the first, The Wanderings of a Spiritualist, I have describedour psychic travels in Australia and New Zealand in the year1921. In the second, Our American Adventure, I give the accountof our first campaign in the United States in 1922, which coveredonly the Eastern States. Finally, the present volume deals withthe events of 1923, when our party reached the Pacific Coast andreturned by way of Canada. In the three years we have traversedat least 50,000 miles, or twice the girth of the globe, and Ihave addressed nearly a quarter of a million of people.

We live in the time of dawn, and year by year the overwhelmingimportance of this psychic question is forcing itself upon thepublic attention. These volumes taken together contain such arange of psychic experience as few men have been privileged toenjoy and may therefore help to meet the demand for widerknowledge, while many subjects of general interest have served togive variety to our adventures. But if I were left without areader in the present, I would none the less place these eventsupon record, for I am convinced that the day will come—andis indeed almost here—when an enlightened mankind will readwith sympathy and interest the struggles of those who acted asthe pioneers of truth, and will marvel at the dull apathy uponthe part of contemporary science and religion which hung so longlike a dark shroud between the people and the glorious newknowledge which had been revealed to them.

Apart from our psychic adventures I had an opportunity ofinvestigating—or at least of getting into contactwith—several new developments of human thought andexperience which must be of interest to all who follow the workof pioneers. The first is the Abrams system of medicine whichbases diagnosis upon the difference of etheric vibrations, andthrows a strong light upon the mysterious phenomenon ofpsychometry. The second is the original work of Dr. Wickland andhis brave wife upon obsession and its relation to lunacy. Thethird is the alleged discovery of a carved figure of an iguanodontogether with giant fossil remains, which would certainly needcomplete corroboration before acceptance. The last is thesingular observation of Dr. Littlefield as to the action ofthought upon the microscopic mineral crystals of the blood. I ama reporter rather than a supporter in each instance, but all ofthem I believe, come from honest and single-minded men.

Arthur Conan Doyle, Crowborough, November 1923.

I. — NEW YORK

A Stormy Voyage—Importance of the Work—ASensational Interruption Excursion to Rochester—Rev. ValeOwen Mr. Ticknor's Mediumship—A Failure—A GirlMedium—My Wife's Great Audience—JesuitConjurer

As I write this I am rolling through the flat arable land ofOhio and Indiana. It is the end of April, there is no longer atrace of winter, but the leaves are hardly showing yet on thetrees. The fields are full of brown 'pigs with numerous litters.Everywhere the farmers are ploughing.

The world is full of dull suffering and the chasteningpatience which bears it. If this were indeed the end of all, howgrim would be the joke! Consider the case of these Ohio farmers,who are more lucky than most. You see their homesteads in thefields, bare and unattractive. The city is afar. Of walks ornatural beauties there are none. A long winter of dullness leadsup to a hardworking year, busy from early morning to late atnight, and with so little to show for it that I am told themajority of the farms are deeply mortgaged; and yet these arekings among men compared with the average fate of their fellows.We do indeed deserve the compensation which we are to get.

I must look back from these later April days, and detail ourexperience from the day when the Olympic, after a stormy voyage,landed us on April 3rd upon the familiar wharf of New York. Wewere glad to be ashore, for the constant head winds, rising to asharp gale, had made the journey unpleasant, and I had thefurther misfortune to have a heavy fall upon a wet deck early inour voyage which twisted my knee and laid me on my back for twodays. Old dogs must not play with puppies. However, we were fullof health and courage as the huge ship warped herself alongside,and Ave saw the faces of kind friends waiting for us ashore. Oneof them in his eagerness for results had brought down a mediumfor me to test, though what I was to do with her or how I was tobegin was not clear. Finally, after the usual trouble, mitigatedto some extent by official goodwill ("God's own country, but thedevil's own custom-house"), we got clear and found ourselves inthe palatial Biltmore Hotel, where we enjoyed the princelyhospitality of Mr. Bowman, the proprietor. Jack Bowman, as he isfamiliarly called, is a very wonderful person, president ofthirteen hotels, any one of which would swamp the energies of anordinary man, centre of many other great enterprises, and yet awell-known sportsman and rider to hounds. The bond between .himand us was that he knew the truth of what I taught by his ownpersonal experience.. Hence it was that his own private suite hadbeen put at our disposal, with permission to leave my familythere while I was working the cities which lie between New Yorkand Chicago. It was an enormous convenience to me, for what was Ito do with my little caravan, when often I would be only one dayin a town and then speed on to the next one?

Need I introduce our little group? Some readers have perhapsshared our adventures in Australia. Others perhaps have readOur American Adventure, which records our first psychicdescent upon this continent. My wife was always with me to upholdme, as zealous and as wonderful as ever. At close range she makesa far better missionary than I, with her great sympathetic heartand her intense human grip of the whole subject. The threechildren were there—Denis, Malcolm, and Billy. The latter,after much thought, had announced on her tenth birthday that shehad decided after all to be a girl, and ceased to sign her notesto me "Your loving son." However, "Billy" sticks, and will, Isuppose, continue to do so. Finally, we had Miss French with us,a competent lady, who assisted us when she was not the victim ofthe Atlantic. With so large a party and twenty pieces of baggage,it was indeed a comfort to get to our headquarters, and to beable deliberately to plan out the future and face anydifficulties which might lie before us.

My conviction of the imperative importance of the work hadincreased, not lessened, with the years, and in spite of growingage I felt keener upon my mission than when I started it sixyears before. Fuller experience and deeper thought all confirmedme in my conclusions. I was convinced not only that God had senta second revelation into the world which had been derided bymankind because it was not in the form that they expected, andbecause human fraud or folly occasionally defaced it, but itbecame more and more clear to me that this new message was insome respects as important as that which came 2,000 years ago. Inethics it could not be greater. The ethics of Christ seem to mefinal, though one could hardly imagine such a change of heart inthe world as would ever allow them to be practised. They havesuffered much, too, as it seems to me, by overstatement andexaggeration. Where one is asked to do what is clearlyimpossible, one loses heart and neglects what is possible. Thusto love your neighbour if he jostles you and treads on your toesis obviously impossible and could never have been meant by soeminently sane a teacher as Jesus. "Make the best of yourneighbour," or "Be patient with your neighbour"—that issurely the most that He can really have meant. Or again, when Heis so severe against the rich, surely there is a great deal lostof His real meaning. Riches in themselves are often the symbol ofindustry or self-denial the greatest of virtues. What was reallymeant was surely that the rich man had to recognize theresponsibility of riches—that if he did not do so he wouldbe called sharply to account for it. I think we could get down tothe real practical things in the teaching of the Great Master ifAve would all agree to put a commonsense interpretation upon thethings which are impractical or impossible. The conscientiousobjectors in the Great War were perfectly logical Christians, asChristianity is expounded; and yet if their view had prevailed, agreat military despotism would have been reared upon the ruins ofconstitutional liberty. When one hears of the Christ hurling themoney-changers out of the Temple—an act which led to Hisown death—one can see that His general laws were to beadapted to the occasion.

However, this is a digression. The point which I wished tomake was that the new revelation is so important in that itbrings definite knowledge, detailed knowledge, concerning ourfate in the future. It is knowledge which man has a right to.Possibly he had it before, at some stage of his progress. I haveoften thought that the early Christians had it and lost it. Butnow, at any rate, we have it clear and it is our privilege to tryto pass it on. I can more and more see that real Christianity isnot a dogma or belief, but a habit of mind. If your mind is sweetand kindly, you are a Christian, whatever you may call yourself:and if it is not, no knowledge of texts or attendance in churcheswill make you one.

I had not originally intended to give any lectures in NewYork, as it seemed to me that after seven lectures the yearbefore I had surely covered the ground already. My time islimited and the work unlimited, so that one does not wish toplough the same furrow twice. The financial side cannot, however,be entirely neglected, and in our new venture the travel expenseswould be heavy and the distances great. It seemed reasonable,therefore, since we had to be in New York in any case, that Ishould do as my manager, Mr. Lee Keedick, advised and testwhether there were still some who wished to hear further uponthese matters.

I arrived on the Wednesday and spoke at Carnegie Hall on theFriday, giving my ordinary lecture, which is half philosophicaland half photographic. There was scant time for preparation, butthe Press, as usual, had used me very well, and the papers weremost kindly in their welcome. The hall was about three-quartersfull, and as it is a very large place I was quite satisfied withthe result. My reception was very cordial, and the lecture andphotographs were received with interest, until just at the end arather unusual scene took place. It was at the moment when Ishowed Mrs. Dean's photograph of the cloud of faces around theCenotaph upon the occasion of the two minutes' silence onNovember 11th, 1922 As the picture flashed upon the screen I wasamazed at the distinctness of the faces, and I was consciousmyself of a most remarkable nervous thrill, which was feltequally, I believe, by all the audience, and which in the dusk ofthe great hall produced a noticeable psychic atmosphere. Therewas a general movement and murmur with a sound of in ken breathas the picture showed up, and then a high female voice cried,"Don't you see them? Don't you see the Spirits?" Other voices atonce broke out in vague clamour, and for a moment it seemed as ifthere would be a scene, so I intervened with a few steadyingwords. The lights were at once put up, as this was the lastpicture to be shown. It was then found that a lady in one of thefront rows was in a deep trance. My wife and others attended toher when the hall had been cleared, and she gradually recovered.Her own account of what had occurred was most instructive, for ifwe may accept it, it was not her own voice at all which hadcalled out to the audience. She declared that for some time shehad been possessed when in trance by the deceased mother of somedead soldier who was most anxious to convey to other bereavedmothers what had become of their sons. It was this entity who hadnow taken possession of her, and through her had addressed theaudience. This is a statement which we can by no means check, butwhat is quite certain is the very remarkable feeling which evensceptics experienced at the moment of the exhibition of thepicture. I am usually pretty flat-footed upon the ground, but Inever felt more near to exaltation than at that moment.

The incident made a considerable stir in the papers, and manyof them commented upon the eerie atmosphere at the moment of theinterruption.

One result was that my photographic lecture upon the Sundaynight was crammed to the doors and it became necessary to repeatit, which I did on the following Sunday with equal success. Itreally looked as if New York could absorb any quantity of psychicteaching and as if I could continue filling this great hallindefinitely, but my programme was already made out for thecountry and so I had to go on.

As it was, this extra photographic lecture in New Yorkinvolved me in a hard problem, for I had already been booked tospeak at Rochester, which is 200 miles away, on the Saturday.Thus I had to travel all night on Friday, speak on Saturday,travel all night on Saturday, speak in New York on Sunday, andfinally travel all night on Monday in order to reach Cleveland onthe Tuesday. Thus I had only one night in four in bed, withincessant Press and platform work in between. However, I stood itvery well and was none the worse for the extra pressure. It iswhen things are slack, not when they are tense, that I feel thestrain.

I was interested in my sally to Rochester, for this city isnear the place where the Hydesville rappings occurred in 1848,the first time in modern days that actual systematic intercoursehas taken place between the two spheres. I had imagined that itwas on the edge of the town, when it was actually twenty milesaway, so that I had not time in my hasty visit to see the place.The Fox house has been removed by pious hands to Lilydale and thespot is unmarked by any monument. As to the Americans generally,they are quite ignorant of the whole thing, and they open theireyes with surprise when I assure them that this is not someimported religion, but that its origin was entirely American.Still wider do the eyes open when I go on to assure them it wasfar the most important thing which ever came out of theirContinent. The years, however, will justify me: of that I amsure.

Rochester will always be a place of deep interest for thestudent of psychic history. To these small farmers of Hydesvilleit was the great metropolis, and thither they went in the summerof 1848, when the curiosity and interference of their neighboursmade their little house uninhabitable. Here the strange rappings,so insignificant in themselves, but so final in their roofs ofindependent intelligence, amazed the populace, and aroused thosemurderous passions which every fresh psychic development, fromthe time of Jesus, has stirred to fury. The whole town wasconvulsed with excitement and the two little girls, only twelveand fourteen years of age, were summoned before three meetingsCorinthian Hall and were forced to show their powers, eachmeeting ending by the appointment of a Committee of Examination.Each Committee in turn was forced to admit the reality of thephenomena. So high did the feeling run that there was talk, veryserious talk, of lynching or at least of tarring and featheringthe girls. A few brave men gathered round for their protectionand eventually smuggled them out and concealed them. The storyreflects little credit on the American mob, but they were atleast no more brutal than the English mob who at Liverpool andelsewhere chased the Davenports from the stage. Probably theSpiritualists were fortunate in that their early trials were inso temperate a State as New York. Had they ventured into Illinoisor Missouri, as the Mormons did, they might have had theirmartyrs, and the Fox sisters might have perished as did thebrothers Smith. I know no clearer sign of the existence ofpositive forces of evil than the insensate rage which is excitedin some minds by the development of any new spiritual idea, andit is usually the priests of the older dispensation who lead inthis devil's work.

While at Rochester I made the acquaintance of Mr. Burr, apractical lawyer and also a convinced mystic, who is thePresident of the Spiritual bodies of New York State. I also metMr. Ebwood, an excellent type of spiritualistic clergyman. He hasa fine church seating 1,200 people Most churches of alldenominations have a good psychic atmosphere, but I can neverremember so fine a one as in this church, and I sat for someminutes enjoying great spiritual peace. It might have been anante-room to Heaven. There is a good grass plot outside thechurch, and it seemed to me that if Hydesville is too remote,some small but effective monument might be erected here. Butalas! the greatest possible argument which our opponents can useagainst Spiritualism, and one which none of us can deny, is thatit has not prompted its adherents to make those sacrifices ofwork, time, and money which all other great rising movements havedemanded. But the time may come. At present, our richer adherentshave certainly cause for shame, for they have left it to the samesmall group of men to do all the work and, out of modestresources, to find all the money. Their own tenets and knowledgewill teach them that this also has to be answered for in thebeyond.

On leaving America the year before I had, in response to anappeal, given several of my psychic photographs to Mr. Rose, aUnitarian clergyman in New Jersey, simply for the sake ofpropagation of the blessed knowledge. This Mr. Rose had abrother, also a clergyman, in Rochester, and my feelings may beimagined when I saw that he had a huge printed notice outside hischurch to say that he would show on the day after my lecture the"Doyle psychic photographs" in his church as a freeentertainment. It was hard to see why, in face of this, anyoneshould pay to come to my lecture at all. In reply to myremonstrance as to the ingratitude of turning my own gift againstmyself in such a way, both brothers had the effrontery to saythat it was a good advertisem*nt for my lecture, and that itwould do me good. These are the incidents which make a mancautious and rather cynical, for it is not the first time thatfavours I have granted or hospitality which I have shown havebeen turned against myself. In spite of this unpleasant incidentthe lecture passed off very well, though it was held in a hugehall, which strained my voice to the uttermost.

Rochester should be called Eastman Town, or Kodak Town, forthat industry completely dominates it. One inhabitant offered toshow me the home of Mr. Eastman, and stared in blank surprisewhen I answered that I would be much more interested to see thehome of Mr. Fox, if it was only within reach. I fear the generalatmosphere of Rochester is very material and that it is in no wayworthy of the great event which occurred so near to it. Theremust surely have been some strong psychic ferment working in NewYork State between the years 1820 and 1850. In that period AndrewJackson Davis, the great seer, had his revelations atPoughkeepsie, Mormonism came from Palmyra, Spiritualism came fromHydesville, and many lesser spiritual developments took shape. Itis a curious and interesting speculation why this other-worldbreath should have come upon this particular district within solimited a space of time. How few people could have realized thatit was far the most notable thing in the world between the age ofthe Napoleonic wars and that of the railways.

When I arrived at the Biltmore Hotel I found that my reveredfriend and co-worker, the Rev. Vale Owen, was ill. I was shockedby his appearance, for he was ghastly in colour and seemed tohave hardly strength to raise himself. He was suffering quite asmuch from the doctor as from the disease, for he had beentreating himself. I reversed all his regimen and within a coupleof days he had turned the corner. On the second evening Iattended a séance with him, the medium being Mr. John Ticknor,whose powers I analysed (and underrated) in Our AmericanAdventure. Mr. Vale Owen's father came back and, addressinghis son through the lips of the unconscious Ticknor, said, "Whydid you not take the old red medicine which always did you goodat home?" "I could not get it made up," said Vale Owen. "That'seasy enough," said the father. "I think I could give you the listof the ingredients. There was bismuth—yes, there wasbismuth. Write it down. Then there was capsicum. Yes. There waschalk. Then there was sugar of milk."

This is an excellent mixture for the purpose. Vale Owen saysthere was a red mixture in use in the family. He could not sayfor certain what its ingredients were. But Ticknor knows nothingof drugs. Surely the whole incident was highly evidential.

Mr. Ticknor has rooms in the Biltmore, and his wife takes fullnotes of the sittings, so that the seances were ideallyconvenient and we enjoyed more than one, which greatly deepenedmy respect for Ticknor's powers. He is, as I have explained, abusiness man, and president of a considerable company, a veryalert man of affairs until he allows his psychic powers toprevail. Then he sinks into an ever-deepening trance, variouspersonalities manifesting through him. Of these the most constantand notable are Colonel Lee, who professes to have been a veteranof the Union war, an abolitionist and a New Englander fromSpringfield, and Black Hawk, a Canadian Indian. On one occasion Itook Ticknor's pulse carefully before, during, and after histrance state. Here is the very interesting result:

8.50 p.m. 80

8.55 (Colonel Lee in control) 120

9.15 (Colonel Lee passes out) Imperceptible. A thrill ratherthan a beat. Alarmingly weak.

9.18 (Black Hawk in control) 100 (bounding)

10.5 (Black Hawk passes out) 100

10.10 (Return to normal life) 84

This result may be—and I understand hasbeen—checked by other doctors and in itself is a sufficientand complete answer to personification, though not final asregards the objection of secondary personalities, which can onlybe judged by the knowledge shown, and is in my opinion, veryamply guarded against by the actual evidence.

We had several sittings with Mr. Ticknor and I was deeplyimpressed with the results. It was clear to me that his powers,as we now saw them in a sympathetic and united circle, were quitedifferent from those which I had tested and prematurely judged onmy last visit. Colonel Lee is an interesting but rather pedanticand prosaic old gentleman who speaks only for himself. BlackHawk, however, not only speaks for himself but is the janitor andusher, bringing messages in his rough, brusque fashion from otherwaiting spirits. On this occasion we got him to talk of his ownlife, and he told us some points about it in the blunt, rathersullen way that a rude man of action might adopt. The story ofhis marriage and the loss of his wife was so simple and naturalthat it brought tears to all our eyes. It was "after the longtraverse" that he came to Fort Garry and loved the daughter ofthe old Scotch factor whose father would not hear of such amatch; but the daughter thought otherwise, and they were secretlymarried by a priest. Then he told how she died when they werealone in the woods, and how he made her grave and laid her in itby a lake. "It was a cold bed for one so fair." He went to thefort and a soldier made a wooden cross for him. It was all verysimple and convincing. I asked him where he was married. "SaintBoniface Church," said he. When in Winnipeg afterwards I foundthat there actually was an old church of that name.

I must enlarge a little upon this mediumship of Mr. Ticknor'sbecause I want to emphasize the wealth of evidence which wasbrought to us, and to make the reader understand how impossibleit would be that this should be collected by normal means, sincethis busy American business man is able to give as much to Mr.Vale Owen or to any one else with whom he is in sympathy. Therecame first several relatives, Louise, Annette—names correctbut nothing very evidential, though there were several allusionswhich were beyond the medium's knowledge, and yet may have beenwithin the possible range of coincidence. Then there came thenames of several of my wife's family which have never been inprint and could not have been got by any normal means. Then camemy mother. "Do you remember our last talk? I had been ill but wasbetter. You felt my pulse. It was before you went to Australia."All these points were correct.

Then there came a well-known English publicist who died somelittle time ago. When I first mentioned the incident to the Pressa name was given, but never with my authorization, for unless aman has been a Spiritualist in his lifetime it seems hardly fairto quote him after he has passed over. Therefore, I gave no namefor publication, though one was supplied by reporters which Ineither affirm nor deny I have exact records of what he said, butmuch of it was so intimate about his own family, and so remotefrom anything which I knew or could possibly check without agross intrusion, that I must simply leave it as I got it. Apartfrom this, there was some part which was evidential and some partwhere he seemed to be confusing me with someone else. He began bygiving correctly the name of a small place which he owned in thecountry, which could hardly, one would think, have been knownnormally by Mr. Ticknor. He then complained of the psychicatmosphere of New York. "I am trying to speak through themiserable veil which lies over this city." I fear there is amiserable veil over most cities, but there are regions of NewYork, full of low-class, ill-digested immigration, which must beparticularly material. He then addressed Vale Owen and said thathe was not known in America as widely as he deserved. "Your booksought to be more known out here. When I was alive I was too busyto look after this sort of thing." He then said he had taken meto the Beefsteak Club, and that I had driven up to town with himonce in his motor, both of which points were wrong, though he maywell have been thinking of someone else. "It seems to me you camewith Reading once. I knew him well, and we had many luncheonstogether. I am trying to solidify myself so as to memorizebetter. I want to strengthen my confidence in my own memory.

"you were not too busy to attend to these vital things. I was,I could not see the value of it. I was too busy. That is mymessage to America through you. Don't be too busy! I was so fullof the things which do not matter that I had no time for thethings that do matter. That is my message."

I have duly given the with to the best of my ability, but itwas difficult for me when it was mixed with so much that was soprivate that I could not use it. But if you were to take thewhole of those seances, and if you were to analyse all thestatements which were given to myself, to Mr. Vale Owen, or to aMr. Winter who was present, it would not be an exaggeration tosay that 90 per cent, of the definite assertions were true, andthat this is as much as any living memory would be likely tofurnish. I was sorry to read an article in the Proceedings of theAmerican Psychic Research Society speaking slightingly of Mr.Ticknor's mediumship. It varies with the company—thecompany, by the way, should blame itself now and then—buton the whole it has seemed to me a very remarkable trancedemonstration.

Another amateur medium whom I tested while in New York wasMrs. Simonson. She also stood the ordeal very well, but it wasnot possible, as we were a mixed company, to get very detailedresults, and what came to me personally was very scanty. Severalof the other guests, however, were much surprised at the accuracyof what she told them. With a very dark complexion and flashingblack eyes this lady is more like the popular idea of a seeressthan most mediums with whom one comes into contact.

Upon the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic we held alittle meeting in honour of that great pioneer W. T. Stead, infront of the slab which has been inscribed in his honour outsideCentral Park. We had discovered a New York photographer, Mr.Collins, who had some psychic powers, and we tried for a spiriteffect, but without success. The result is worth reproducing,however. The gentleman on the left with the books is Mr. PercyBullen, of the London Press, who organized the experiment. Infront of Mr. Vale Owen is Mr. Ticknor, whose powers as a medium Ihave described, and in front of him again is Mr. Edwards,formerly Dean Edwards, of Detroit, who is now one of the leadersof the American Psychic Research Society, which is fortunate inhaving a real Spiritualist among its directors. Now perhaps itwill cease to be negative in its results, and give an example toour own parent Society, which has been stagnant or retrogradeever since Frederic Myers passed away.

I have noted that one friend, the Rev. R. Russell, ofPhiladelphia, had met me at the docks with a lady medium. Hekindly postponed the interview for some days until We should besettled, and then he brought her with her chaperone to the hotel,where we had a very interesting evening. She was a Miss Ridley,and claimed to be a direct descendant of the Protestantmartyr.

Her mediumship was of the direct-voice variety, for which sheused no trumpet, but the sound appeared to come from the regionof her solar plexus, a deep hollow voice, which might, so far asI heard it that evening, have been produced in some singularfashion by the lady herself were it not that the matter discussedseemed to be quite foreign to her knowledge. She was a slight,girlish person, with a gentle lisping speech and a shy manner,but her control, talking through her mouth, was rough andbrusque, and her independent voice was deep and resonant, so thatthree independent kinds of sound were uttered.

Each of us was summoned to her in turn and each of us hadimpressive evidential messages. It was indeed a remarkable sightto see one of the most hard-headed business men of New Yorkstooping over this frail girl, and chuckling heartily as thevoice of an old friend spoke to him of little escapades whichthey had had together in their boyhood. Altogether the séance wasvery remarkable, and none of us had a doubt that Miss Ridley'spower was a very real one. One can but trust that she may longhave Mr. Russell's wise supervision and use her gifts in thehighest possible way.

Through the courtesy of Mr. Bowman, I was taken out for aday's exercise at the Biltmore Country Club. These institutionsare extraordinarily luxurious in America, and this particular oneis so exclusive that the entrance fee is somewhere about twohundred pounds It was a splendid edifice, some ten miles from thecity, with everything in it which man could need, including awell-fitted boxing-ring where many a tough amateur match has beensettled. There is a fine golf-links, only just recovering fromthe ravages of winter. The professional, Butchart, a goodspecimen of a Dundee man, and I were matched against two clubplayers, and, in spite of my efforts, Butchart carried me tovictory. He is the finest club maker in America, and he presentedme with a brassey which was one of his best. What pleased me muchwas that when we went to lunch, Butchart, as a matter of course,joined us as one of the party, and very entertaining company hewas, as he explained in a rich Scotch Doric how he had coachedthe Imperial family at Potsdam, was caught by the war, and had toput in four years in Ruhleben. He shared my opinion that PrinceHenry was a fine fellow, a lover of England, and had no sympathywith the war party.

We are much disappointed at the appearance of New York, whichseems to have deteriorated greatly in the course of a year. Wewere as impressed by its efficiency last year as by its slovenlywant of order this year, and it can hardly depend upon the effectof winter since the season is the same. Central Park, whichseemed so well managed, is now strewn with paper, uncared-for,with grass trodden down and dirty, untidy walks. A wooden househalf dismantled occupies a prominent site. In the asphalt of thestreets there are huge holes which would send a bicycle or motor'cycle head-over-heels and which give a motor-car a bad shake ifit blunders one. The police seem as smart as ever, but otherwisethere is great and obvious deterioration in the city, but thepeople are extraordinarily long-suffering. They grumble freely,but nothing is done. On the other hand, the motor roads round NewYork, and indeed round every American city, are extraordinarilygood—far ahead of the average roads in England. They reachtheir climax in the west, where from San Diego in the south toSeattle in the north, considerably more than 1,000 miles, thereis a broad asphalted road which might be a racing-track all theway.

My wife was asked to send out a broadcast wireless messageupon spirit-teaching whilst we were at New York, and she did sofrom the Westinghouse Instalment on the top of the Ritz-CarltonHotel. To me it was very impressive. The stars were above, thelights of the huge city below, and as I listened to those greattruths ringing out in her beautifully modulated voice it was morelike an angel message than anything I could imagine. Her deepconvictions sent a thrill into her words which could not havebeen lost upon her unseen audience of 500,000 souls. Echoes cameback to us afterwards—one from the lonely woods in thenorth of Quebec—saying that the message had struck home.She said:

"During the war my husband was much impressed by the need theworld had for fuller knowledge of the nature of death. He hadstudied the question for many years, and it was the only subjectupon earth on which we differed, as I regarded it as uncanny.After my brother's death, early in the war, evidence came to mewhich placed it beyond doubt that my husband was right and thatthe dead could both live and communicate. I knew the immenseconsolation that this new knowledge was to me, and when heproposed that we should devote our lives to this end, I eagerlyagreed.

"It was not altogether easy. It meant leaving our beloved homeand greatly reducing our income. But we have the joy that we havegiven joy and passed on God's truth to many aching hearts andhave proved immortality to many who had lost all confidence inthe hereafter.

"The first thing the knowledge of Spiritualism does for you isto remove all fear of death. A Spiritualist fears death no morethan walking into the next room—it is promotion to a lifefar more lovely and happy than the earth-life; therefore to usdeath is a happy prospect rather than a horrible dread.

"The second blessing which comes from the knowledge ofSpiritualism is that the fear of God which the Churches try toimpress so upon the hearts and minds of humanity is removed; fearof God is eliminated, and love and an infinite sense of God'scloseness and tender understanding of all our faults anddifficulties raise a great and real love in our hearts forHim.

"The third blessing which it brings you is that it bridgesdeath—it shows you how to communicate with any beloved oneswho have passed on to the higher life.

"The fourth blessing is that through getting into touch withthose who have passed on we are made to understand the wonderfullife of happiness—of real human happiness—which liesahead of us; that we shall live with those we have loved uponthis earth; that the power to love is only intensified, notlessened, over there; that those who jar and irritate us here arcnot with us there—only those who love and are in truesympathy are together in the higher life. There every troublewhich we have borne upon earth will be made up a thousand-fold ina wonderful human happiness.

"So many people in this world never have had the beautiful andsweet things of life; it is all grey drudgery and fightingagainst difficulties in grey surroundings. Let such people takeheart and realize that if only they just try to be honest andkind to those around them then everything is going to be made upto them in happiness beyond all description. Nobody carries achequebook over to the other world—we only carry over theresults of our daily actions. Intolerance, bigotry, selfishness,cruelty, will take the person to a lower and greyer sphere, wherethat man or woman will have to dwell until they have got rid ofthese evil qualities; but the man who is kind and decent to thosearound him, whose actions never hurt the lives of others,although he may never go in for formal religiousdisplays—that man by his kindly daily life is creating awonderful future of happiness for himself when in God's own timehe is called to the higher world.

"Every gift that we have in us is God-given; therefore wecarry it on with us and develop it to the fullest under the mostcongenial and happy surroundings. Those who have passed on alltell us that it is the land of fulfilled hopes, the greatrecompense for all the trials and greyness of this earth-life.

"If I were offered all the wealth of New York in exchange forthe knowledge which Spiritualism has brought me, I would ratherlive in a two-roomed shack than part with the intense comfort,the glorious vision of that wonderful future world I know ofwhich lies ahead of me.

"Now I would just say to any poor mourners who are listening:don't grieve too much over the loss of your dear ones—yourtears and grief will cloud their great peace and happiness in thehigher world. Remember this: this earth-life is, as it were (theytell us), our school-life where our characters are developed andtrained by sorrows and difficulties, and when we lose our belovedones it is just as though they had left before the end of theterm and have gone home, where in God's own time we shall go tothem. There will never be any more partings after this life. Fromthe next higher life, when we have developed and spiritualizedstill more, we pass on to still a higher and even happier sphere,and so on until we reach heights of glory that the human mindcannot conceive."

On April 10th I was the guest of the Dutch Treat Club, whichholds luncheons at which the visitor is not so much theentertained as the entertainer. Such hospitalities are hard tolive up to, for if one gives of one's best one encroaches onone's strength; and if one does not, one causesdisappointment.

Some two hundred pressmen, and city men, wereassembled—a very critical audience of cynical men of theworld. I thought it best simply to tell of some of the thingswhich had happened to myself, and then to appeal to them whetherthere was any sense in ignoring or denying such happenings. I wasassured afterwards that my earnest, if artless, address produceda considerable effect. "Well," said one of them afterwards, "thata crowd of hard cases like us should listen to all that, and thatyou should get away with it, was wonderful." It would certainlybe a hard audience to deceive, but they knew that I spoke thetruth as I saw it, and they were big enough to consider it, ifnot to accept it.

The New York Press had been very good to me, but I found theusual sort of critics, captious, argumentative materialists andthe like, with occasional instances of real intellectualcriticism which were worth answering. One of the most absurd andalso most pertinacious of my critics was a Mexican Jesuit namedHeredia, who, having some knowledge of amateur conjuring,imagined that the laboratory experiments of a Crawford or a Geleycould be all explained by his parlour tricks. He was rash enough,however, to go down to the office of the Scientific American andoffer to show them how Hope did his psychic photographs. Mr.Bird, the editor, had actually sat with me and got a psychicphotograph from Hope, so he knew what the real process was like,by personal experience. Father Heredia went into the dark-room,took a plate, and ordered Mr. Bird to put his name upon it."Now," said the conjuror, "I had best put my name too," uponwhich he signed it, placing his left hand across the plate as hedid so.

It was so perfectly obvious that some luminous material tomake an impression upon the plate was concealed in his left handthat Mr.. Bird laughed at the clumsy trick. And yet thisabsurdity was cabled all over America. Bird's explanation neverquite caught it up, and where-ever I went I was liable to be toldthat psychic photographs had been exposed by Father Heredia, whocould produce them quite as well as Hope or Mrs. Dean. Truth maywin in the end, but alas many people never see the finish!

II. — A LONELY INTERLUDE

Cleveland—The Dancing Craze—AtlanteanColonel—Pittsburg—Mayor Hylan—HistoricalFort—Cincinnati—A GreatMedium—Prohibition—Riley thePoet—Indianapolis—Miss Ada Besinnet

IN spite of all I left behind I was glad to pull out from NewYork on April 15th, because I was eager to get on with my job.Cleveland was the first stage, a noble city with nearly 1,000,000inhabitants.

When I arrived the dancing craze had broken out and theworld's record was being beaten hour by hour. I went down to thehotel where the performance was going on, and again the next day,when I found the same wretched dancers, male and female, stillshuffling round, after having been at it all night. A jingling,discordant band was hammering out rag-time, a dense crowd ofpeople were peering over each other's shoulders, and in thecleared circle in the middle were these poor dancers withbedraggled dresses and swollen ankles, painfully step-step-stepping to the music. The women competitors had men partners whor*lieved each other, and the tired creatures sank their headsupon these partners' breasts and seemed to sleep while their feetstill mechanically carried on.

It was repulsive in a way, as all pain which one cannotrelieve is repulsive; but it was fine too as an exhibition ofpluck, for some of them, though they had danced for sixty hourswith only a few minutes' interval, would wake up from time totime, smile at the crowd, and assume a careless air of falsejollity. Occasionally the girls (they were mostly girls) wouldstop and have their eyes syringed, for it was there that the dryheat seemed to try them most. I read afterwards that onecompetitor had fainted and two others in some other town hadrespectively gone mad and died. I am sure I was not surprised.The ultimate record was about 100 hours of continuous dancing. Iwonder if that performer ever wanted to dance again.

Cleveland is a grim city of iron and shipping, and it is inthese busy, material places that the spiritual message is mostneeded. There was an excellent audience, and if I did not get itacross it was my own fault. Many curious psychic types calledupon me at my hotel—indeed my experience in eccentrics mustsurely be unique. There was one solemn-looking old Colonel fromthe South, a dignified figure in a frock coat, with a very liquidcold in the head which was painfully obvious. It seemed noconcern of mine, but as a matter of fact it proved to have a verypersonal interest, for I caught it and suffered for someweeks.

The Colonel thought he was an Atlantean by origin, and thathis mother, with some name like a patent medicine, had been Queenof that country. I tolerated him by day, but when, sniffingloudly, he appeared at my door at night with a long message fromhis mother, my relations with the Colonel became strained.

From Cleveland you pass down the busy Alleghany Valley, andsee the Beaver and Ohio Rivers, the former name, like Beverley inEngland, commemorating the creatures who once were found there.As you come deeper into the iron country you seem to bedescending into one of Dante's circles, and a glance at sooty,smoking Pittsburg makes it very clear why Carnegie lived inScotland. From the river-side it is a terrible-looking place, butone is agreeably surprised when one reaches the hinterland tofind what fine buildings there are, technical colleges,libraries, galleries, and all sorts of amenities to mitigate theatrocities of modem industrialism.

On the whole, Pittsburg, bad as it is, compares favourablywith our own dreadful northern towns, whose brick lanes I knew sowell in the days of my medical novitiate.

It is a curious thing how saturated both halves of the Bibleare with Spiritualism. There is a good society called theGideons, who distribute Bibles to hotel bedrooms and have oftenplaced me in their debt. At Cleveland I opened my Bible atrandom, and made a note of the place so clear was the reference.It was 2 Chronicles xxxiv. 22: "So Hilkiah went to Huldah theprophetess "—to inquire God's will. It is surely clear thatthe consultation of mediums was their ordinary routine and amatter of course. I had one amusing conversation with an amateurmedium. He assured me that society took a great interest in hispowers and would ask him to dinner simply in order to exploit himand have a thrilling evening. "They dine me, and then they pointto the wood-pile." I thought the phrase well worthremembering.

Prohibition seems to greatly increase the economic power ofPittsburg. I am not clear that this is an advantage, since themore one set of men do, the less there is for some other set ofmen. But for what it is worth I record that the workmen nowappear on Monday and not, as was once their wont, on Tuesday.Personally I am of opinion that God sent a man into this worldthat he might improve in mind and in spirit, and not that heshould make screws and rivets. Therefore every possible schemefor shortening labour, so long as honest, hard work is done, hasmy support. I have heard people with black coats talk with greatscorn about the eight-hour day, quite ignoring the fact that theythemselves limit their hours very severely from ten to four witha good hour cut out for lunch. Actually it has been officiallystated here by the steel magnates that twelve hours a day is theproper rate for a worker. To their credit the Christian Churcheshave protested against so monstrous a slavery; but things havecome to a bad pass with the human race when in the greatestnation upon earth so barbarous a decision could be reached.

Whilst I was at Pittsburg the New York papers reached me, andI was amazed to learn that my wife, the most gentle soul uponearth, was at open war with Mr. Hylan, the Mayor of New York, andhad by universal consent given him a very severe and at the sametime restrained public rebuke. I did not know whether to beamused or horrified. Hylan has attacked me once or twice before,voicing no doubt the prejudice of the more bigoted RomanCatholics, for I had never met the man and he could have nopersonal motive. His attacks did not worry me at all, and as heis, whether for good or bad, the head of the great communitywhose guest I was, it seemed to me that I should not forget myobligations, however much he might forget his. My wife shared myview; but when in my absence he made some public references to"that man Doyle" and to spiritual things of which he was clearlyignorant, she let herself go, and gave the Press an interview inwhich she said, among other things, that she had travelled intwenty-three countries and had only once, in Constantinople in1907, seen streets in so shocking a state as those of the cityover which Mayor Hylan presided. He would be well employed inlooking after them instead of abusing a guest. It was a well-balanced and reasonable rebuke, and I was proud of her as I readit. Her remarks were not unpopular; indeed, she told me when wemet that her telephone was kept busy all day by the people whowished to offer congratulations.

I have spoken of the queer people who haunt me. We trueSpiritualists are usually a very sane and well-balanced lot. Butthere is a floating fringe of mystics of various types who do notbelong to any Spiritual organization or subscribe to any humancreed, and they are certainly very weird people. One of thembrought round the announcement of a poem he had written about thecreation of the world. Among the Press opinions aboutit—self-written for all I know—was one: "It is adecided improvement upon the earlier and cruder effort of JohnMilton." The poor Spiritualists get blamed for all theaberrations of these people, who were just as numerous beforeSpiritualism was ever heard of. So far as religion goes, there isnothing vague or far-fetched about the belief of the realSpiritual Churches. This consists in all countries of seven well-defined principles. They are: (1) the Fatherhood of God, (2) thebrotherhood of man, (3) the survival of personality, (4) thepower of communion, (5) personal responsibility, (6) compensationand retribution, (7) eternal progression. The general adoption ofthese seven propositions would mark a very great advance in humanthought.

I had one small adventure in Pittsburg, for a flashlightphotographer insisted upon taking me in my bedroom, with theresult that thick clouds of smoke rolled out of the open windowand there was a general rush of bell-boys on an alarm offire.

Another small incident which stands out in my memory was thatwhen the time came in my lecture for the Cenotaph photo to beshown there came an agitated cry from the operator at the far endof the room to say that the photo was not there. There wasnothing for it but to summon him up with the box, and I sat downand found the picture while the two thousand spectators waited,with the courteous patience which is characteristic of anAmerican crowd. Save for this one contretemps the evening was agreat success.

The most interesting object in Pittsburg is the old Britishfort down by the river which was the nucleus of the town. It wasa frontier defence of the colonies in the old days, and it was inan attempt to relieve it when it was besieged by the French andthe Indians that Braddock and his army were ambuscaded anddestroyed in the woods a few miles off. I had not time to visitthe place, but I inspected the old grey fort, which is quite asmall building, a sort of a sunken martello tower, loopholed formusketry without any embrasure for cannon. The whole story ofBraddock, the futile gallantry, the incapacity of rigidmilitarism to adapt itself to novel conditions, thedebonnaire bravery of the young officers, the superiorcraft of the colonial militia, is very like a page from SouthAfrica.

That rising officer, George Washington, was at the head of thecolonials, and perhaps the sight of British soldiers in defeatmay have helped to raise dangerous thoughts in his mind, thoughit was only the folly of the statesmen on both sides whichbrought them to a head and in the inscrutable wisdom ofProvidence deprived the English-speaking race of the position ofbeing the peaceful arbiters of the world.

From Pittsburg my pilgrimage carried me on to the great cityof Cincinnati. These three, Cleveland, Pittsburg, and Cincinnati,are all approaching the one-million mark—which means thateach is about as large as Glasgow. It is a very busy commercialplace, and yet I was aware of a strong psychic interest, thoughthe papers were less kindly in their comments than usual. I wasdriven around by a rising authoress, Mrs. Margaretta Tuttle, whois rapidly winning a conspicuous place in American fiction. Shepossesses considerable psychic power of her own. My old friendMr. Howard Saxby, who was there at my previous visit thirty yearsbefore, was to have taken the chair at my meeting, but was veryill. I called upon him, and succeeded by laying hands upon him (agift which comes to me in great force at times) in completelyalleviating his symptoms, so that he wrote next day hoping thathe was cured; but there was some deep-lying cause for hiscondition and the relief that I could give was unfortunately onlya temporary one.

Mr. Holmyard, whom I have mentioned in Our AmericanAdventure, is a native of Cincinnati and an indefatigableworker at psychic subjects. In his company and that of Mr. Ault,a prominent citizen of the town, I visited Mrs. Pruden, who iscertainly one of the great mediums of the world. Her slate-writing performance was even more remarkable than that which shegave me last year. All the questions which I wrote down were dulyanswered between the closed slates, and a running fire of rapswas kept up all the time. Finally we asked her to sit at theother side of the room, but the raps continued merrily in fulllight right under our hands as they lay upon the table. What sayyou to that, Mr. Sceptic? "This is not your last visit toAmerica. You will come again two years hence," said the seeress.It was not my intention, and prophecy is the least reliable ofpsychic gifts. I have great hopes that Mrs. Pruden may come toLondon, where her pleasant personality and her remarkable powers,which are less sensitive to hostile influences than those of mostmediums, would make her a very desirable demonstrator of psychictruth.

There are at least two other mediums in the town of whom I hadexcellent reports, though I was unable to give them a test. Icalled upon one of them, but she was entertaining visitors anddid not feel that she could get her best psychic results while sopreoccupied. A police raid was made upon these sensitives aftermy departure, and possibly on account of my coming, for thenotice my views receive incites every bigot to call upon thepolice to enforce the mediaeval laws. I do not know what theresult may have been, but I do know that there is no class ofcase where a just magistrate should be more wary than in these.The police are out for a conviction, they know that a medium willhave no chance of getting back upon them afterwards, and they caneasily overthrow the evidence of any Spiritualists present, whoare usually timid folk who fear publicity. A frame-up is theeasiest thing in the world. When one remembers the case of Hopeand the doctored packet of Imperial dry plates one realizes thedangers which surround a medium, and how helpless he is ingetting redress even from a society of honourable gentlemen, likethe London Society for Psychic Research.

My English mail brings me an account of the parliamentarydebate upon Prohibition with the great majority against it. Thematter will not end there. The question has certainly come tostay. To anyone actually living among American conditions much ofthe debate sounded unreal and absurd. Stories about whisky inwalking-sticks may amuse an audience, but a walking-stick alonewithout the whisky is an uncommon object in an American street.All these tales about the evasion of the law are probably trueenough, but they apply to at the most 10 per cent. of thepopulation. The other 90 per cent. obey the law, exactly asdecent people in England would do, and the result among us would,I think, be the abolition of those slums which are a disgrace toour civilization. The whole standard of life depends upon thequestion, for at present in very many cases only a fraction ofthe wages reaches the home, and the wife and children degenerateto that extent. When the beer-money is all available for food anddress, how much higher will the average be? As a compromise, whenthere are no saloons or public-houses and the liquor is boughtfrom Government stores, as in British Columbia, and not consumedin public, the wife will at least have some say in the matter,and that false good-fellowship be avoided which degrades both himwho gives and him who receives. All our spiritual teaching is, asit seems to me, in vacuo unless we hitch it on to materialthings, to the need of betterment in the poorer classes, to theLeague of Nations for avoidance of war, to the fundamental thesisthat, whatever the cost, the bulk of the people shall be placedin such a position that they can develop their minds and theirspirits, for which purpose they were placed in the world.Christianity has lost touch with this need, but we must for everinsist upon it, if we are to be the compelling force which wemight be.

From Cincinnati, which had been made pleasant by theattentions of Mr. Horgan, of the Sinton Hotel, my path led toIndianapolis, a favourite of mine in former days, but I did notre-establish touch with any single soul whom I could remember ofold. A very capable lady, Mrs. Talbot, was running the lecture,and she would seem to be psychic, for she assured me that on thenight that she signed the contract she found her bedroom, beforeshe had gone to sleep, flooded with purple light. Suchimpressions may be subjective, but she was a shrewd business ladywith no hysteria in her nature. Purple is, of course, the colourwhich in occult language signifies teaching, so there was somemeaning in the episode, if it was indeed objective.

I used to know Whitcomb Riley, the poet, and now I visited hisgrave with some flowers. They have buried him on the summit of ahigh hill whence the pilgrim can get a long view of the fertileplains of Indiana. "Everything in Jim Riley came by contraries,"said one who professed to know him well. "He wanted just to sinkinto the earth unnoticed, and here they have planted him on ahill. He never liked children. He could write verses about them,but he didn't want to see them. But they would organizeprocessions to the child-poet. Jim would look out of his windowand cry, 'My God! Here are a bunch of these brats coming after meagain.'" So said my informant, and it seemed a comicalsituation.[*]

[* Riley's friends vigorously deny thisanecdote, and their denial should be put on record.]

I well remember my first interview with him, whenhe sat hunched up at one end of my unmade bed, and I at theother, and we discussed with the eagerness of youth the work ofall our peers. I couple him with Eugene Field as one of theremarkable Bohemians of America. I still preserve the poem whichthe latter wrote for me which wound up:

"Oh, had we met on the other side, what rapture had beenmine,
For I was broke in London in the fall of '89."

Indianapolis and Columbus both gave me good meetings, and itwas a great joy to be able to wire to my people and to say thatthey could now make for the Auditorium which was our tryst inChicago. I was very weary of my lonesome round.

But one very great pleasure remained. I was within a hundredmiles of that great medium Miss Ada Besinnet, and she had set anight apart for me—an invitation not to be resisted. Shehad extended her courtesy to Mr. Malcolm Bird, of the ScientificAmerican, who was rapidly acquiring so much actual psychicexperience that if he should criticize our movement he is acritic whom we will be obliged to listen to withrespect—which is not too common an experience. We weregreatly favoured that evening, for we had the whole gamut of themedium's powers, the Powerful voices, the wonderful musicalperformances, the brilliant lights, the fitful materializations,the written messages, the continuation of the songs when abandage was over the lady's lips, and finally the whole heavytable was lifted bodily into the air. It was a very impressiveexhibition, and Mr. Bird was as interested as I was.

We went from the séance to the train, and the next morning Ifound my wife and family all well and happy at the Chicago hotel.The first and most lonely stage of my adventure was over.

III. — TO THE ROCKIES

Young Medium—A Wonderful Voice—TheMagicians—"Scientific American" Inquiry—Crucibles ofCrime—Chicago Jail—Sad Scenes—"Donkey andCarrot" System—St. Louis An Inland Voyage—KansasCity—Pike's Peak

On the first day I was in Chicago I received a telephone callfrom a stranger who said that he was in touch with a young man,aged twenty, a Mr. Bruce Kemp, who was, as he declared, a veryremarkable trumpet medium. Would I test him? As Mr. Bird was inChicago, I thought the opportunity a good one, so I fixed anappointment for the next morning at eight at our private sitting-room in the Auditorium Hotel. With the hour there came the twoyoung men, the older very zealous and intelligent, the younger acharming American lad of the best type, clean, well groomed,amiable, with a bright smile and a pleasant manner. He had withhim his three-jointed zinc trumpet and a little water-tray inwhich he stood it mouth downward. This was new to me, though Ihad seen mediums several times pour water down their trumpets.The children were allowed, as a great treat, to be present, andwe formed our circle—Mr. Bird, myself, my wife, threechildren, the friend of Kemp, and young Kemp himself. Thesitting-room proved to be too light, so we adjourned to a bedroomwhere the conditions were better. Kemp does not go into tranceand chats away all the time, though he declares that he feelssleepy. There was some delay in the opening, and we had justbegun to think that the novel surroundings were going to checkthe results, when they suddenly burst upon us with almostalarming violence. The children were talking baseball, and theyoung American had just made us all laugh by saying that someconceited player had dislocated his elbow trying to pat himselfon the back, when our merriment was checked by a roar like thatof a lion which burst from the centre of the circle. Mr. Randall,in his book on Mrs. French's mediumship, has said that one mightas well imagine a rabbit barking like a mastiff as fancy thevoice he heard coming from a weak old lady. Certainly I canrepeat the simile, for no sane person could imagine that thetremendous sound which we heard came from the gentle Americanlad. It was so deafening and pitched in so strange a key that itwas inaudible, but when I could catch the words they wereinnocent enough, for they were to the effect that my boys werebaseball fans. I had been warned that Red Foot, for that was thename of the Indian control, had a war-whoop which simply shookthe building, and I trembled at its effect in the crowdedAuditorium Hotel. I therefore hastened to say, "Red Foot, I amnot in my own wigwam. We must not talk too loud or others willhear." He answered with a roar that he understood that, and thathe would not show his real power as it might frighten the littlegirl, and he was a good Indian, who never frightened anyone."What sort of Indian?" I asked. "Iroquois," he answered. TheIroquois happen to be a hobby of mine, so we chatted for sometime about the Five Nations, he roaring out his answers with anexplosive force which no human larynx could imitate. He describedthe battle with the pale-faces in which he lost his life. Alsohow he was buried on four sticks elevated above the ground. Dogsand horses, squaws and papooses, were all in the next world,which was like the happy hunting-ground they had imagined.Altogether he said nothing which was new to me, but it wascorroborative and the voice utterly beyond imitation. I satgrasping from time to time the young medium's hand, but the voicetravelled all around the room. He discoursed about rattlesnakesin answer to an appeal from Denis, and gave us a sentence in theIndian tongue. Finally he tried to introduce voices of others whowished to speak with us, but this part was not a success, as wedid not recognize one or two names which came through. However,the Chief himself was most convincing and no sceptic couldpossibly have denied the independence of his voice andindividuality. Mr. Kemp and his friend assured us that aftersitting long filaments of white matter are found sometimes in thewater with which the trumpet is replaced. This must surely beectoplasm, and seems to show that whereas this curious substancedissolves in air when light gets at it, it might perhaps be moredurable in water. A promising line of inquiry opens up there, forit may be that there are other liquids or gases in which it wouldbe more constant still. I would suggest in any case staining thewater red, since ectoplasm will bear red light in a séance.

I had some difficulty afterwards in determining what is thewisest course for a youth with such a gift to follow. Of course,in any world which was not in the dark ages, the answer would besimple. He has a rare gift, a gift of inestimable value to theworld, a clear sign of power independent of physical law as weunderstand it. Of course he, a man in a million, should beemployed in demonstrating his power. But this means taking moneyfor his gift, for how else could he live, and thus he becomes aprofessional medium, and a mark for every policeman who seekspromotion and for every ignorant or bigoted magistrate whosefoolish remarks on spiritual things might make a paragraph in thepapers. Fines and the penitentiary—that might be the end ofhis God-given power. Of course the real solution is to have themediums licensed by the spiritual bodies and to have theselicences inspected by the police and withdrawn in case of abuse.At present the inspired and the faker, the true apostle and Simonthe magician, the angel who spoke to Mary and the Witch of Endor,are all classed together in one comprehensive condemnation. It isa problem which calls most urgently for solution.

I had promised myself a few days of rest with my family inChicago after the very hard time that I had in my lonely round,but it was not to be, for all sorts of pressing things came uponme. I think that I really might have had to lie up, so weary wasI, had it not been for the kindness of Mrs. Blaine, daughter-in-law of a former Foreign Secretary of the United States, who put acar at our disposal and enabled us to get some drives along thelovely shores of Lake Michigan. We visited the beautiful parksand inspected the full-size model of Columbus's ship. It is aremarkable reproduction, and floats at anchor in one of thelakes. On the whole I was surprised to find it so large, and Iwas less impressed by the daring of Columbus than before I sawit. It looks nearly as large as the whaler Hope in which Ispent seven months in stormier waters than the Atlantic.

Much time is spent in idle controversy, going over old pointsagain and again, but it has to be done or the public imagine thatyou are silenced. The Sunday Herald brought a long attackby one Joseph F. Rinn, mostly upon the photographs, and stuffedwith every sort of inaccuracy and distortion. This had beenbroadcasted all over the Hearst papers with four million readers,so I had to spend the whole Sunday in answering it point bypoint, hoping that the same papers would give me space. I do notknow whether Mr. Rinn's malevolence is professional or religious,but certainly a more unfair article I never read in myconsiderable experience. I have offered to put up a thousanddollars if he can produce a picture under Hope conditions to thesatisfaction of the Scientific American. This may bringhim up with a round turn.

It is curious how these conjurors—with the singlehonourable exception of Mr. Howard Thurston—attack thetruths of our movement. Perhaps it is that their tricks bringthem into contact with the fake mediums and not with the realones. Or it may be a sort of professional jealousy. It will berecalled that the early Christians were continually vilified bythe magicians, as it is mentioned both in the New Testament andrepeatedly in the early Fathers. I have no doubt that thesituation then was exactly the same as now, and that the realpsychic powers or "spiritual gifts," to use their own term, ofthe Christians aroused the jealousy of the gentlemen who in thosedays extracted the rabbits from the hats.

I was very anxious that Mr. Bird, of the ScientificAmerican, should have an experience with Mrs. Pruden beforehe returned, so he went on to Cincinnati by night with his usualwholehearted energy in order to keep an appointment at ten in themorning. I was uneasy, for I was aware how elusive these thingsare, and how difficult to furnish on demand. However, to my greatjoy on Monday I had a card from Bird: "Altogether extraordinary,both in phenomena and in extent of control." So that is one morepoint gained in this long uphill game. They cannot continue tothink that I am a credulous fool so long as my observations arecorroborated by such a man as Bird.

Bird is not only part Editor of the ScientificAmerican, but he is Secretary and leading spirit of theCommittee chosen to investigate the physical phenomena ofSpiritualism. I fear that nothing can be hoped for from thatbody, for the supremely Important thing is to conciliate theSpiritualists before such investigation is so to secure co-operation. The Scientific American has not done this.There is no one whom the Spiritualists regard as a friend on theCommittee, and several enemies, so that they do not look on it asan impartial body. Of course it should have been equally chosenfrom both sides to make it fair. As matters stand it is mostdifficult to get mediums to come. I have tried my best, even tothe extent of offering to defray the expenses, but they regard itas a trap. It was a capital error to put Houdini, who has beenmost violent in his expressions of contempt and hostility, uponsuch a body. Dr. Carrington, though he acted well in the matterof Eusapia, is not popular with Spiritualists. Dr. Prince, andProfessor MacDougal have been so many years without declaringthemselves in public that it seems hopeless that they should doso now. There remain only Mr. Comstock and Mr. Bird, open-minded,clear-headed men. But, alas! the mischief is done, and unlesssome system of travelling sub-committees is arranged the inquirywill end in fiasco.

I have heard a great deal about the shocking conditions ofAmerican jails and I had read a very terrible book calledCrucibles of Crime, by one Fishman, who had himself been ajail inspector and knew the inside of every jail in the EasternStates. His story was a dreadful one, worse than one reads of themediaeval conditions in England or the modern ones in Turkey. Icould not believe that it was true. Now, alas! I have seen withmy own eyes and I know that it is true. When one sees a cruel actperformed, it is not the feelings of the sufferer so much as themental degeneration of the inflictor which causes horror, and soin this case it is not the terrible fate of the prisoners so muchas the callous indifference of the public which is dreadful. "Outof sight, out of mind"; and so long as they push their blacksheep into some isolated fold, the subject is pursued no further.But a very speedy revenge comes back upon them, for crime iscontagious; the small sinner becomes the large sinner, and sooneror later the community pays the price.

The Chicago jail is a large, dark building close to the cityoffices, in the most crowded district. Through the courtesy ofMr. Ericson I gained admission, and was received by Warden West-brook, who impressed me at once as an admirable man who, with hiswife, was doing all that was possible to ameliorate theconditions for which he was not responsible. The ultimate blamerests with the voters, who can by a referendum erect aninstitution which will indeed be worthy of their great city. Theprison left a dreadful impression upon my mind. What right can wehave to treat our fellow-man so! What feeblest reflection of theteaching or spirit of Christ is there in such aninstitution—a manure-heap where human garbage is thrown toreek and fester, cared for by no one so long as it is decentlyconcealed. You may conceal your cesspool as you will, but ifthere is seepage it will spread death which will creep back intime to you. And so it is here.

Bearing Crucibles of Crime in mind, I was on thelookout for the points, and even in one visit was able to getsome sure data. One great relief I found. It was that WardenWestbrook seemed to be a real good fellow, who was as anxious forreform as anyone. No weakling, Westbrook, but a strictdisciplinarian, tempered by humanity and justice. He has a worthywife, whom I did not see, but whose good deed in the shape of apile of well-thumbed books, a thousand in all, was shown to me.The Westbrooks have only been there a year, and before that therewas not a book in the prison. Think of it!

When I first saw the Warden he was seated behind the table ofhis office, a broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, strong-faced manwith a humorous mouth and eye. He had a box beside him in whichhe had various objects of interest, taken from prisoners, andthese he exhibited to me one by one.

"This is a rope made out of the strands of a sheet," said he."It is strong enough to hold a man. You see," he explained,"there is a crowded district outside, and if they can sling arope out of the window, and someone is waiting outside, there isno saying what they may not pull up, dope, or a gun, ormoonshine. I am having meshes put between the bars to stop thatgame. Look at these saws," he went on, showing half a dozen ofthem, small but efficient. "They could eat through a bar in notime. There is a length of bar cut out by one of them. And here'san imitation gun. Looks the real thing, does it not? The man thatmade that held up two warders with it, but the third saw it was adud and knocked him down. Now come along with me, Sir Arthur, anddon't blame me if you don't like anything, for we can't all getour own way in this world."

We first saw a shut-in, badly ventilated space in which anumber of youths, white and coloured, were playing handball withgreat vigour. There may have been sixteen players and about sixtywere looking on, lounging against walls or seated on a longbench.

"These are the boys," said the Warden. "I make each of themhave a game to keep fit."

"How long have they in this play-room?"

"Five hours a day. It used to be four. I added one."

"What do they do the other nineteen?"

"Sit in their cells. They can read."

"Are they all mixed together, whether they are small offendersor utterly depraved?"

"We have no means of separating them."

I saw the stooping, snigg*ring groups with their sidelongglances and cynical young faces. One can guess how the poisonspreads.

It was not a pleasant sight, and yet that foetid play-groundwas by far the healthiest spot in the entire building.

We passed on to examine the cells. The prisoners were out fortheir few hours in the central enclosed roofed space called theBull-pen. In their absence we could examine the dreadful placesin which they passed their nineteen hours out of every day.

"There are 375 cubic feet of air in each cell," said Dr.Knapp, who attended us. "The minimum for adults is 500 cubicfeet."

"And we have as many as five in each cell when the place iscrowded before assizes," said the Warden. "There are three beds,one above the other and two on the floor. They can just cramin."

"But there is no window; no light: what do they do fornineteen hours?"

"Plan deviltry, I expect."

"Have they no work—nothing to occupy their minds or toimprove them?"

"No, sir; they do nothing."

"But why?"

"Well, the labour unions would object," said Dr. Knapp.

"Can books be sent in?"

"No, sir. They would get dope in the books. Even in theirprivate letters they stick two pages together and when we hold itup to the light there is the powdered dope."

The doors were framed with thick bars and the food was pushedunderneath them, as is done with animals in the Zoo. There is notable. An open closet is at one end of the cell, which is betterthan the night bucket, which is in general use in many Americanjails, but none the less, imagine the conditions in that tinyunventilated cell with several occupants.

Perhaps my disgust and horror showed too clearly on my face."After all," said the Warden, "they are criminals. They shouldkeep out of jail."

"But they are men, I understand, who have not been tried."

"Well, I daresay ten per cent. may get clear, but the most areold crooks—a good many murderers among them. Come and seethem. Here they are in the Bull-pen."

There is a separate Bull-pen on each floor. It is simply theenclosed square with the cells all round, very dark and roofedin. It was crowded with men, some sitting on the floor with theirbacks against the walls, the most walking drearily round andround, hopeless and purposeless, for what good can exercise dowhen fresh air is utterly wanting.

"That window had not been opened for thirteen years when Icame," said the Warden. "Somebody escaped through it once."

"You do get escapes, then?"

"Mighty few. There was Tom O'Connor. He got off. He got anautomatic somehow. You see, it is a crowded street outside andthey have their friends there to help them. O'Connor strong-armedone man and hands-upped another, and got down the food-lift andaway at the back."

"Where is he now?"

"Well, that's what we all want to know. There is a tenthousand dollar reward. He was a murderer, but he was awonder."

We had been standing in front of the Bullpen. I was glad toget away from it. There was a sullen, hopeless, listless miseryabout it all which clung round one like an evil mist. I shouldthink that in the lower circles of Hell there can be nothingworse than the Chicago Jail Bullpen. I only observed a fewnatural and happy human faces within the building. They wereyouths who were employed in the laundry and other establishments.Work, occupation—anything to get away from the constantbrooding where the mind bites into itself. I cannot think howthey preserve their sanity.

We were shown the hospital of the prison. Will it be believedthat there is no natural ventilation and no window at all. "GoodGod!" cried Dr. Knapp, as he looked around it. It was at thatpoint that I exclaimed that the architect who designed thatbuilding should be in it.

One of the things which struck me most was the partitionthrough which prisoners hold interviews with friends. These aretwo very fine grills, sixteen inches apart. Each of them isdivided into such a small metal mesh that one could hardly see aperson through it, and yet these indomitable and ingenious peoplemanage to pass dope and even liquor by rubber tubes, guided byhat pins, and connecting mouth to mouth as the two stoop to thescreen. It seems incredible, and yet it is so true that theWarden has seen a man stagger away from the screen in consequenceof the liquor he had just imbibed. I was shown a cuspidor in apassage into which a visitor used to drop dope, the prisonergetting it afterwards at his leisure. There is a similar barredgrill in the room where prisoners see their lawyers; put up atthe request of the lawyers themselves, as they had no wish to beassaulted by desperate clients who might think that they had notreceived the professional attention that they deserved and somight give them a little professional attention in return. Whenone surveys this building with all its mediaeval arrangements,one hears with surprise that it is really a modem one. I havebeen over Sing-Sing, which is as bad and in some ways worse, butSing-Sing dates back to the earlier half of last century. TheChicago Jail was perpetrated in 1895, though there is an earliersection now hardly used at all, which belongs to 1870. Onewonders whether those who designed and built it ever had the ideain their minds that it was the fate of human flesh and blood withwhich they were dealing and that living men and women had toexist for months at a time in these unsanitary cages which theywere planning out. Their only excuse was that they may not haverealized it, or had not the imagination to see the result oftheir own actions, for it would take a heart and a conscience ofleather to do such a thing in cold blood.

They were not bad fellows, some of those prisoners. I think Iam a judge of a man, and I saw several faces with a little soulstill left to shine out of the eyes. But how could it last insuch an atmosphere? Surely the foetid gloom around, the constantattrition of mind, the sense of wrong, the foulness and horrorday after day, must kill it out. And yet what a chance it isreally to isolate the young criminal, to work upon him, to gethis feet firm upon an upward path. But nothing of this ispossible in the present condition of Chicago Jail.

We passed through the kitchen, where the fare seemed rough butwholesome, and was the one redeeming feature of the place. Theycan have what they will, in reason, from outside, if they havethe money to buy it. As it comes in, it is examined for dope,which has added greatly to the difficulties of prison management.I saw a long strip of it extracted from the back of a magazine. Ifear my sympathies were with the doper, for what can a poor devildo in such a place save to grasp at any chance of liberating hismind and soul, even if his poor body be held in the rack?

We had a short survey of the women's quarters, where astalwart but kind-looking matron presided. There was more amenityin this part of the prison and the inmates actually ate off atable. But the wicked little cells were as bad as ever. I wasshut up in one in Sing-Sing and I know what it means for fiveminutes. Imagine what it feels like for nineteen hours of the dayand thirty days of the month.

One isolated wing was inspected by us—no better than theothers—which is reserved for ex-policemen who areprisoners, and also for witnesses for the prosecution who are incustody. It was explained that if either of these classes wereloose among the general crowd in the Bullpen, they would be morelikely to figure in an inquest than in a trial.

The Warden had a sense of humour. It seemed incongruous tolaugh amid all that misery, and yet the comic will intrude. Thiswas his story. A workman dropped a bit of cement from the upperfloor where he was mending the pipe, and it fell on the solidhead of a negro below. It would have killed a white. The negrolooked up and said, "See here, white man, have a care. You mademe bite my tongue." "No wonder they are hard to beat in theprize-ring," said I to the warden.

I came away sunk in deep melancholy. At the last minute I wasintroduced to some lady of local fame who is troubling her mindabout cigarette smoking. Fancy anyone worrying about such atrifle with a slice of Hell right under her nose. I don't supposeChicago is worse than a hundred others. But to say that there areother Hells is no excuse for this particular Hell. The matterseems to me to be very much where it was in England beforeHoward, Mrs. Fry, and other reformers took it up. Now, we want anAmerican Howard and all will be well.

What is the object of a jail? Is it to improve a prisoner oris it to brutalize him? Surely there can be but one answer to thequestion, for the sake of the public as well as of the criminal.Then why should you obviously and deliberately brutalize him andgive him no chance whatever of improving, thereby ruining him,and making it almost certain that you will have him on your handsas a criminal for life? Duty and interest seem to me to point inthe one direction, and that is that the man be regenerated ifhuman effort can do so. What would Christ think of such a placeas Chicago Jail? And what would he think of Christian ministersand Christian people who give Him lip service and yet suffer sucha place to contradict and insult every idea for whichChristianity should stand.

It must come down. It is too bad to rectify. Only totalreconstruction could meet the case. A great, proud city likeChicago, which could set the world such an example of courage andconstancy as it did after the awful fire of 1873, would surelythink little of such a task as rebuilding a jail. If the presentcentral site were sold, and the jail built out in the suburbs,the difference in values might perhaps go some way to cover thecost. But whatever the cost, the self-respect of the city mustcome first.

I do not wish to exaggerate or to be sentimental. I realizethat the criminal must not be coddled. I realize that too great acomfort in jails might put a premium on crime. But while guardingagainst this, the main object, reformation, has to be kept inview. Discipline by all means, kindly but firm. But with itshould go segregation of the innocent, separation of boys frommen, intelligent work, intellectual uplift, good literature,physical attention, cultivation of self-respect-all of them nowneglected.

I have always had some views which are, so far as I know, myown about the system of prisons. One thing is clear in my mind.The really habitual criminal should NEVER be let out. How absurdit is to release a man who has thirty times committed assault andbattery. When the thirty-first case occurs, as it speedily will,is it not the community rather than the criminal which has beenguilty, since it let the man loose knowing well what he would do?I would have humane, permanent prisons, and in them I shouldcomfortably install for life those who have shown that they werequite incorrigible. In short, I should treat them as theincurable lunatics that they really are.

I do not know how far the English Borstal system has beentried in America. I had occasion recently to make a surprisevisit to a Borstal establishment near Maidstone, and was deeplyinterested in the result. Young offenders are all sent there,instead of to jail. They have a good, firm, fatherly governor, ofthe military type, and collegians as well as wardens are in touchwith them. They farm their own fields, have their own trades, runtheir own band, have their great playing, fields and footballteams—indeed it is in some ways like a very strict publicschool. The results are very good and many of the lads arereclaimed altogether from criminal ways. Some effort in thisdirection might be worth while in Chicago. I did not come as acensorious critic. I find much in American institutions which wein England could well imitate. But these are our unfortunatebrothers and sisters. As Baxter says: "There, but for God'sgrace, are ourselves." Let us raise them up tenderly and try toput them on their feet once more. My memory will be haunted bythe vision of that crowded Bullpen, the lounging figures, thehopeless faces, until that happy day when I learn that Chicagohas set her hand to the task and that humanity and good sensehave prevailed.

The Editor of the Chicago Daily News wrote to me laterthat my article on the prison, of which the foregoing is asummary, was "considered an impressive account of theextraordinary conditions prevailing, and it will doubtless haveits effects as regards reform."

Our plans after leaving Chicago were that the family should goon to Colorado Springs and await me there—thirty-six hoursahead—while I cleared up St. Louis and Kansas City, the twointermediate big towns. We parted, therefore, and I again foundmyself alone with Mr. Erskine. It is a method of progress which Icall the "donkey and carrot" system—as you are helped onyour way by the thought of a pleasant welcome down the road.

St. Louis struck me very much by its size and its amenities.There is a feeling of energy in the air and one is conscious thatone is in a city with a great future. It has also a notinconsiderable past, for it is one of the chains of settlementswhich the French built so as to hem in the English-speakingcolonies. Then with a line of forts on the Canadian border andanother line down to New Orleans, they could at their leisurebuild up a Western empire, holding the Americans to the east ofthe great river. It was a well-considered plan, and it was brokenmainly by the power of the British army and navy, which again andagain in history cleared the ground for the future United States,for which, I may add, they have had mighty little thanks. But toforget or ignore a fact does not alter it.

The Hotel Chase at St. Louis is a really fine one, and treatedus with consideration. It stands on the edge of the lovely parkwhich was used for the 1903 exhibition, and some kind friendstook me for a drive over it. I inspected an admirable art museum,with facsimiles of many European masterpieces, and a number ofAmerican paintings, one of which, a scene in the FrenchRevolution by Story, was of very great power. I also saw the hugeopen-air theatre with 14,000 seats where opera is performed. Anirascible prima donna in a head wind must be a funny sight. Theysay, however, that you can hear very well as a rule. It is justlike the old Greek theatre under the Acropolis in general design,but it has two large trees growing through the stage, which mustgreatly aid the sylvan scenes. I should have liked to see anatural play, but alas! I had my own stage to fill.

My stay in St. Louis was enlivened by the society of severalcinema men, who would, I should imagine, in a less dry climate,have been a lively crowd, and who even in the present depressingcirc*mstances managed to he very amusing. One, who had been ajockey at some period, gave us some funny experiences with thenegroes on southern race-tracks, especially the adventures ofsome negro tout who used to get his information "out of the oatsbox," to use his own expression, and pass on for a fee the plansof the horses to his fellows. When the information proved wrong,he had to invent excuses to avoid trouble. "Yes, sir, your horsewas beat by six inches, sir. But it wasn't really beat at all. Itwas .just unfortunate. Did you see that race, sir?"

"See it! I had two dollars on it. You bet I saw it."

"Well, then, if you saw it, you would notice the rumps of themhorses was dead a line when they passed the post. It was a dead-heat at that end, but you backed a short horse. That wasall that was the matter."

Another amusing St. Louis story was of a drummer sellingpotted milk. "It came from a contented cow," was his slogan. Hisfellow-drummer was selling some imitation beer. "I wish I had aslogan like yours," he said. "Well," said the other, "I've seenyour stuff and tasted it. You might say it came from adiscontented horse."

Yet another was of a man who pretended to be wonderfully wellread. Some friends put him to the test. "Have you readThackeray's Pendennis?" "Sure." "Have you read Dickens'sPickwick?" "Sure." "Have you read Scott'sEmulsion?" "Sure."

St. Louis left a very pleasant memory in my mind, for the goodcompany, for the beautiful city, and finally for the lecture,since the spacious American Theatre was sold out, with absolutelynot one seat left unfilled. It was as appreciative as it wasnumerous.

There was one other pleasant incident which I connect with St.Louis. A two-masted schooner, 40 tons burden, had been brought upfrom the Caribbean Sea by its remarkable navigator, CaptainParker. He is Captain, but he is also cabin-boy, for there is noone else on the boat save his fine, sunburned, upstanding wifeand their young son. These three live aboard and have alwayslived aboard, the boy having been born there. They are just ableamong them to hoist the big mainsail, using all their strength.They cruise out on the Atlantic and fear no weather, throwing outa sea-anchor and using oil when the waves become tooobstreperous. They carry guns to prevent the sharks or whalesabsolutely taking possession, and in their floating home they arefree of every care, earning a small living by doing a bit of sea-peddling. He seemed a fine specimen of a sea-dog, and with such awife and such a home should be, as he looked, a happy man. How hehad worked up the river all those many hundreds of miles is amystery. It must have taken a wonderful and constant supervisionto keep her in the channel, for she has only her sails to driveher. I spent a very pleasant hour on the little craft.

They tell me the Mississippi is a nice, clear, innocent streamuntil it is corrupted by the Missouri. St. Louis lies twentymiles under the point of junction, and so you see it broader anddeeper but very much uglier than before, with a vile, oily,coffee-coloured current. Yet it is imposing for its size, and itis spanned by four great bridges which are themselves verywonderful to see.

Another night in the train—I gradually grow to toleratethese journeys—and we were in Kansas City, with thephotographers at the station and the Pressmen with their "Saynow, Mr. Doyle, what is this spiritualism anyhow?" My chieftrouble is that I have to begin at the very beginning with everyone of them; and if I don't, in all good faith they make the mostamazing blunders which are repeated by the other papers, and soon world without end. On the whole, however, the young fellowsare very helpful and intelligent, so I will not grumble.

Kansas City is a young giant of a town, half-formed andsprawling, but with the seeds of greatness in it. Stockyards areits central industry. It is wonderfully equipped with parks whichare the real glory of the city, so that you drive for miles amongreally beautiful country without leaving the city bounds. Thecity possesses one supremely fine work of art erected upon abluff in one of the parks. It is a bronze of a mounted Indianscout, life-size, leaning forward with his hand shading his eyesas he looks across the plain below. It is a really splendidstatue.

Two things amaze me: the one that American cities havesuch fine works of art in the open air, the other that, havingthem, they seem to take no pride in them, for one cannot get amodel or an adequate photograph in the whole town. You will findstacks of picture post-cards of Studebaker's thirty-floorskyscraper, which outside the town no one in the world cares ahalf-penny about, save as an awful example of what may happen,while this fine "Indian Scout" or the splendid soldier monumentsat Cleveland or Indianapolis are not to be had. In London orParis they would be in the window of every fancy shop and sellreadily as souvenirs. I wrote a letter to the Starexpounding these views, so I hope I may have done a littlegood.

I had an interesting interview with a Mrs. Randall, of KansasCity, who referred me to one of the chief physicians of the townfor corroboration of her story. Early in this year she died. Forquite a long time there was no sign of life in her body. Then shereturned to life. She brought back with her a perfectly clearrecollection of what had occurred to her. She remembered floatingout in her etheric body, and noting the silver cord which stillheld her to the natural body. She at once met her sister andfather, both of them dead. In the company of her sister shefloated off to see her brother, still alive, who was working insome factory in the city. She saw him, saw the men about him, andnote a number of details all of which proved to be true. She thenreturned to her own chamber, and after an argument in which hersister begged her to remain dead, while her father counselledreturn, she re-entered her body and is now strong and well.

Psychic scholars will remember an exactly similar case of acataleptic physician given by Funk in his Psychic Riddle.I have had at different times quite a number of letters frompeople in my audience detailing similar experiences. It amazes mewhen I read scientific men like my friend Sir Frederick Treveswriting that there is no evidence at all of what occurs afterdeath. There is a great deal of very cogent evidence if theywould only put their prejudices out of their minds and carefullyexamine it.

There were some points noted by Mrs. Randall in her curiousexperience which are worth recording, that they may be comparedwith other observations. One was that spiritual bodies did notseem to pass through walls and solid obstacles, but that theypassed out of the door, though it seemed to be an etheric doubleof the door, opening and shutting independently of the materialone. This observation fits in with some others and also with someold customs such as opening the window of a death-room for theexit of the soul. She observed that the spirits stood aside tolet a mortal pass, and did not allow them to walk through them asusually supposed. Mrs. Randall has now printed a detailed accountof the adventure, and it is an interesting and restrainednarrative.

It was at Kansas City that I first began to notice a change inthe American fauna. Driving in the great park, I perceived ablack-and-white bird with a red head, about the size of a thrush,which stood close on the bark of a tree and was clearly somevariety of woodpecker. I also saw a brilliant scarlet bird, likea small parrot. There were ground-squirrels also, which I mistookat first for stoats. Next day in our journey through Kansas I sawmany new birds, especially one very large bird of prey, whichrose close to the railway line. I supposed it was a buzzard. Onetouch of real nature far transcends the works of man, and thelatter only thrill when, as in the case of the "Indian Scout,"they copy nature.

It was a long journey now, a clear twenty-four hours, toColorado Springs, and it marked the dividing line of my tour, forI was at last well over the border and in the real west of theStates. Kansas is a beautiful dominion, and we rolled all daythrough a land of rich farms until the enclosures at lastvanished and it was real prairie around us, though still ofcourse in use for arable and grazing. It is wonderful soil, deeprich loam, and for long it needed no treatment, but those daysare past and the rotation of crops with the use of phosphates andnitrogen is now as needful as elsewhere. The sight of these vastplains, which extend from the Mississippi to the mountains for somany hundreds of miles makes one feel how improbable it is thatany great race of men can ever have occupied America. There isnot one vestige of the past. Once or twice I saw old mounds whichmay have been barrows but never once were there such prehistoricforts as lie so thickly in Britain or such débris-moundsas mark the buried cities of the East. It is very difficult toaccount for this unless, it may be that these huge plains wereunder water at the time when Atlantis flourished. If Atlantiswere as great a country as Plato says, then surely its outposts,at least, would be marked all over the Continent, just as Romanoutposts are marked everywhere in Europe. On these great flatplains even a small erection would stand forth clear, but no signof antiquity ever appears to break their monotony.

It is wonderful to see the mountains appear, wonderful to usfrom the observation-car of the train, but how infinitely more soto those weary emigrants who saw upon some blessed morning thesnow-white cap in the sky which marked Pike's Peak, a hundredmiles ahead of them. Pike must have been an adventuroussoul—a soldier in the regular army who died fightingagainst the Canadians in 1813. It was in 1806 that he made hisexpedition westward and first of all his race saw the distantpeak which is named after him. The early emigrants and gold-seekers took it as their guide and made for it from Omaha and theother starting-points on the river. "Pike's Peak or Bust," theyprinted on their wagons, and the legend of "Bust, by God!"occasionally adorned some broken-down equipment.

The town of Colorado Springs, which now numbers some 60,000inhabitants, and has every promise of greatness, lies right underthe mountain, which is, of course, only one peak in this mightyrange which extends from the Arctic in the north to Mexico in thesouth. Indeed the whole South American Andes would seem to be itscontinuation—a huge 5,000-mile wrinkle in the earth's skin.They have run a railway up Pike's Peak, and the view over theplains must be superb, but the season prevented our making theascent, as the snow still blocked the line. Already, however, wewere on a mountain-top, for the town stands at over 6,000 feet,though the ascent on the railway has been so gradual that one isamazed to step from the train and feel the thin, clear air ofaltitude—the air of the Engadine.

IV. — COLORADO

Strange Geology WonderfulDrive—Denver—Houdini—PsychicPhotographer—A Long Trek—Gorge of theArkansas—The Desert

It was a joy to find my people at the Antlers Hotel, anexcellent establishment where they had been very comfortable. AsI had to lecture that evening and start for Denver next morning,they had a motor-car all ready so that I might see the verywonderful sights of the place. The geology is certainlymarvellous, and I never bewail my own ignorance so much as when Ifind myself among such wonders. White pinnacles of sandstone withstrange ironstone caps, like lids, upon the top of them, huge redslabs, also, I think, of sandstone, cut into queer shapes,limestone caves, a coal-mine, granite outcrops—it was likea geologist's nightmare, and I could make nothing of the jumbleof the strata, which looked as if a giant had stirred them all upwith a porridge-stick, after cutting them into slices with acleaver. There were few wild-flowers as yet, though the anemoneslay in thick beds, but the fauna were delightful, little gopherswho sat with white waistcoats at the door of their houses andwhistled with surprise when they saw you, their small cousins thechipmunks, bushy-tailed squirrels, lovely bluebirds, grey pigeonswith curious rounded tails-but not a snake anywhere, to the griefof the boys and the relief of their mother.

There were several enthusiastic Spiritualists in the town, andone good clergyman, Mr. Taft, who seemed to be more interested inpsychic things than is usual with his profession. There was alsoa good voice medium, a Mrs. Gainor, with whom we had a sitting inthe afternoon. The voice, a deep male voice, was remarkablyclear, but it gave us nothing of a strictly evidential character.There was a luminous patch which moved round the room and seemedto be a formless cloud of phosphorescence. The sitting wasinteresting without being absolutely convincing, but I am toldthat the medium can do much better.

A dreadful thing has happened to us. We had a thermos flask ofwhisky which we kept in case of exhaustion, and lo! sin has beenpunished and it has broken among our baggage. Our offence smellsto high heaven, and we go about obvious and self-announcedbootleggers. It is the funnier, as neither of us is in the leastaddicted to spirits, though a glass of good wine has always beenwelcome to me. We can but hope that time and fresh air willgradually relieve us of the stigma.

The journey from Colorado Springs to Denver by motor was adream. I had imagined that it would be a climb, but the road, anexcellent one, runs from south to north along the base of themountains, the great ruddy, wrinkled bastion with white caps hereand there always on our left. Short of the great mountains is onecontinual rocky formation breaking out all over the plain,sandstone and limestone tortured into every kind of queer shapeby aerial erosion, by ice action, by water power, and by everyagent which is used to break down the rocks. The country out ofwhich these strange pinnacles and castles rear themselves isgreen rolling prairie, with scrub oak and fir trees scatteredover it. The distance was seventy miles, and we only passed twosmall towns, Castle Rock and Littleton, the latter famous as acentre for pedigree cattle. I understand now for the first timethat when the emigrants had made Pike's Peak they did not at onceplunge into the mountains, but they kept to the level and skirtedalong them until they came to a suitable pass which had beenalready mapped out by the wonderful trappers and pioneers whowere the vanguard of the race.

Denver is a large city which is rapidly growing and will beenormous. A splendid State House, with a golden dome which rivalsthat of Boston, dominates the town. We met here the Houdinis. Hehad been performing in California and was now on his way back. Heseemed to have been impressed by some photographs which he hadhimself taken in Los Angeles and which showed psychic effects. Idid not, however, find them very convincing. We went in theevening to see him perform his usual marvellous and hair-raisingfeats, which place him in a class by himself amongillusionists.

Denver is fortunate in the possession of a remarkable psychicphotographer, an eighty-year-old Scotsman named Alexander Martin,whose results are known to psychic students in England. I calledupon him and found him a sturdy little bit of Scotland, living invery modest surroundings. I had hoped for a sitting, but he isvery busy with some material work, and finds that it combats hispsychic powers. I gave the old man passes for my lecture and Ishowed some of his own results upon the screen.

We came away from Denver very much impressed by the beauty ofthis town. The parks are magnificent and public buildings so finethat they are built rather for the future than for the present.It is a great health-resort for pulmonary cases, but they are notmuch in evidence and everyone seems very prosperous and happy.They could hardly be unhappy in such glorious air. The psychicatmosphere of the place seemed good also, and many were deeplyinterested in the great problem. Our next step was a long one-600miles to Salt Lake City—and it involved a day and a nighton the train. However, we are all getting used to this kind ofthing and the children positively enjoy it. I fear I shall neverget so far as that, and I often find myself thinking withpleasant anticipation of the days to come when I can order my ownlife in my own way, my task done, if it can ever be done. Thefirst eighty miles took us back to Colorado Springs and thence toPueblo, a busy iron-city to the south. It had been the scene of aterrible cloud-burst a few years ago, and we could see the marksupon the outer walls of the brick houses to show how high theflood had risen. It averaged about twelve feet, and the mightytorrent rushed through the town at the rate of thirty miles anhour, carrying the wooden houses along with it and drowninghundreds of people.

From Pueblo the line turns right into the mountains running upthe gorge formed by the Arkansas River. It is surely one of thefinest routes in the world, and the skill of the engineers isamazing. There are several places where there is just room forthe river and the railway through gorges where the granite cliffsrise for 2,000 feet on either side. Here and there a dark band ofiron is visible, slashed across the ruddy face of the cliff. Howdid it get there? We have not, as it seems to me, begun tounderstand the real formation of our globe, and, as usual,disguise our ignorance with long names. This journey through thegorge of the Arkansas is a wonderful experience and it is mademore pleasant by the fixing of an open observation-car to therear of the train, though you have to buy a pair of tintedprotective glasses before you dare use it, as the smoke comesback upon you. Sometimes you may see wild mountain sheep on thecrags, but none appeared to us, though we did see several largebirds of prey which were probably buzzards, though we should liketo call them eagles.

It is an amazing line, for it climbs over the 10,000 footlevel without any cogs—the highest normal railroad, I amtold, in the world. When near the top we saw Leadville in thedistance, which is surely the most lofty of towns. It has 5,000inhabitants, turns out over a million pounds worth of gold everyyear, and is nearly 10,000 feet in the air. It would beinteresting to have the health statistics of such acommunity.

When you have climbed to this summit you are at the greatDivide. A marsh of melted snow lies all around you, from whichthe Arkansas gets its springs, and flows down to the Gulf ofMexico. Pass on a few miles and the slope is westward and everystream discharges into the Californian Sea.

The breadth of the Rockies is a surprise to me. You cannotlook at a map without appreciating their length, but to travelfor days and see the ranges running from east to west parallelwith your train is a surprise. An enormous tuck seems to havebeen taken in the earth's outer garment at this spot. Why heremore than elsewhere? There are unsolved mysteries at everyturn.

When you are clear of the Arkansas Pass and down on thefarther side you get your first view of the American Desert. Itis much like that of Egypt. I saw it in early morning, withsubdued and delicate tints of lemon, of melon, and of cinnamonlying over it, yellow deepening to brown or warming to pink, withlow, distant hills of sandstone. It is a place of death—aterrible place. Once I saw a man striding across it. He walkedpast the train but never glanced up. He was tall and thin,walking swiftly, as one who knows he has to cover certain groundin a certain time lest a worse thing befall him. Some poor hoboor tramp, I suppose, who had no railroad fare and took his lifein his hands in order to get across. There are bones and skullsscattered about from animals which have died upon the trail.

The line ascends again as you approach the Mormon country,until you come to "Soldiers' Summit," which marks the spot whereUnited States troops were placed in order to overawe the Mormonsin 1858. They had fairly settled then into their land of promise,and the more violent spirits among them showed a strongdisposition to defy the central Government. However, a peace waspatched up, and there was no actual fighting. With all respect tothe American soldiers, it was, I think, just as well for them,for our own experience has been that the mounted farmer in hisown country is an opponent from whom little honour is to begained. I know America would in the end have crushed the Mormons,but it would have been after a difficult and chequered campaign,and the compromise was a wise one.

Now we ran down into the wonderful Utah Valley, which washailed by Brigham Young, the moment he saw it from under thecanvas tilt of his wagon, as being the promised land. "Stop here!We go no farther," he cried. There is a great deal in the wholestory which reminds one of the exodus of the Boers from CapeColony, and when I saw a group portrait of the surviving pioneerstaken in 1897 I seemed to recognize the familiar South Africanfaces, the shaggy-bearded, patriarchal men and the stern, hard-worked housewives who cared for them. The flight of the Boersfrom the British settlements, across the Karoo amid the Kaffirs,is very parallel to the flight of the Mormons from Americancivilization across the Plains amid the Red Indians, and to matcheither of them one has to go back to the flight of the Childrenof Israel from the Egyptians across the desert of Sinai amid theMidianites and the other savage people who opposed them. The oldwheel of history is for ever turning.

V. — THE MORMONS

The Mormons—Their Toleration GreatAudiences—The Tabernacle Seagull Monument—SaltLake—Book of Mormon—Analysis of the Causes ofMormonism—Smith's Inspiration

We were amazed as we drove from the station to see what asplendid city the Mormons have raised. As a fact they are only 40per cent. of the city inhabitants, but they are so united andtheir average character is so high that they are stillpredominant, though the Gentile majority rather resent thatpredominance and are even now organizing to dispute it. In thecountry round, however, the farmers are 80 per cent. Mormons, sothat it is right and proper that the State offices should benearly all held by members of that faith. I could not findanywhere the least trace of persecution, and a fine spirit oftolerance was shown in many things. The most personal instancewas that the Mormon Church had allowed me to speak in theirTabernacle. When I remembered how often I and other Spiritualistshave been refused permission to speak in ordinary secular hallswhich happened to be under the control of some Christianreligious body, I could not but contrast the good feeling of theMormons, who put their own special assembly-hall at my disposal.It was the more magnanimous because in my early days I hadwritten in A Study in Scarlet a rather sensational andovercoloured picture of the Danite episodes which formed apassing stain in the early history of Utah. This could have beeneasily brought up to prejudice opinion against me, but as amatter of fact no allusion was made to it save by one Gentiledoctor, who wrote and urged me to make some public apology. Thisof course I could not do, as the facts were true enough, thoughthere were many reasons which might extenuate them. I thought itbetter to leave the matter alone and confine my attention andremarks to the present.

There are points, to which I will allude later, whichSpiritualism and Mormonism have in common. One of the mostobvious and most material is that they both took their origin inthe north of New York State, the one in 1820 and the other in1848, Within a distance of only a few miles from each other. Itis certainly most curious that two movements which have eachextended their influence over the whole world, and which do notemanate from each other but are superficially independent, shouldboth have sprung from the rustics of one agricultural district. Isay "superficially," because I think that if the Mormonsunderstood the philosophy of Spiritualism, and if they consideredthe possibility of Smith, their founder, being medium, they wouldbe able to get a connected and reasonable explanation of all thatoccurred, which would in no way detract from its dignity orother-world origin.

The interest in my lecture seemed to be very great and 5,000people at the very lowest estimate assembled in the Tabernacle tohear me. I have never addressed a more responsive and intelligentaudience. Both of the papers the next day, in describing thescene, used the expression "spellbound," from which I hope thatit was granted to me to rise to the occasion. I had felt veryweary since I began to talk in high altitudes, and I was still at4,000 feet, so for the first time I asked my audience to excuseme in the middle and took five minutes' rest, while the greatMormon organ, one of the greatest in the world, played abeautiful and spiritual voluntary. This new arrangement,introduced between the philosophical and the photographic halvesof my lecture, acted very well, and I got through less weary thanusual; while as to my audience, one of the papers said the nextday that the whole subject had fascinated them so that theylingered behind and would hardly leave the building. When oneconsiders that the whole population of the town is 120,000 andthat more than 5,000 were at the lecture, it was certainly aremarkable occasion and a record for any paid performance in thehall.

I would say a word as to the place itself, which is as strangeand effective as many other points connected with these wonderfulpeople. It is as big, roughly, as the Albert Hall, but it isshaped like an enormous oval ship upside-down, with a smooth keelfor the roof. Perhaps a whale back would be a better simile. Nonails were used and it is entirely bolted together with wood. Soperfect are the acoustic properties that the least whisper goesto the back of the building, and it is a perfect joy to stand onthe rostrum and feel how easily one can command one's audience.Next morning I heard from all parts how effective my expositionhad been as an argument. I was assured by many that they quiteaccepted my view. One good Mormon solemnly prayed over me andcalled a blessing on my work. A Gentile doctor, a man ofcharacter and distinction, told my wife that it had opened hiseyes to the real meaning of life and that he would go hundreds ofmiles to hear me speak of it again. It is such expressions whichjustify us and give us strength and courage to go on with thework. There are times when the dead wall of materialism seemsimpenetrable, and then one actually sees a few bricks drop outand one takes heart once more.

The huge temple, to which none but Mormons are admitted, didnot interest me much, though it is a stately building with theangel Moroni twelve feet high upon the topmost pinnacle. I wascharmed, however, with the little seagull monument which standsin the temple grounds. It seems that the early settlers were onone occasion in danger of absolute famine because an invasion oflocusts was eating up their rising crops. Just as they were indespair there came a huge cloud of seagulls from the lake anddescended upon the insects, devouring them and saving theharvest. In memory of it this beautiful seagull monument wascreated, and the gull is now a sacred bird in the valley, havingsaved the State, even as the goose once saved Rome. No one is nowallowed to shoot a gull in Utah.

Everything about Salt Lake City seemed to me wonderful andunusual, even the railway-station. Fancy an English railway-station of a city which is not larger than Coventry with twomagnificent frescoes spanning each end of the waiting-room. Oneis of the pioneer band coming through the end of the pass withtheir wagons, while the leaders look down on the Land of Promise.The other is the joining-up of the trans-continental line in1869. Each is a really splendid work of art. That is one of thethings which our railways must learn from the Americans. They arenot there merely as a money-making means of transport. They mustadorn cities as well as serve them. If they take the publicmoney, they must give beauty as well as services. When one looksat the great marble station at Washington and then compares itwith Waterloo or Victoria, one understands what a gulf separatesour ideas and how much we have to learn.

The most interesting document the Mormons possess and the onewhich is of most value to the historian is Joseph Smith's ownaccount of the whole matter. I think that it is impossible foranyone with a discriminating mind to read a long narrativewithout understanding whether it is written honestly or not. Hereis a long, plain statement by a man who finally sealed his faithwith his blood. I am prepared to take it up to a point at itsface value, but I am also prepared to maintain that the writer,from his ignorance of psychic matters, lost all sense ofproportion and misinterpreted to a great extent the evidencewhich was put before him. We have to remember that whenapparitions from the other world, teachers or angels, comethrough, they usually assume some very high name, meaning perhapsthat this message is in the name of that High Person. This is the"Angel of the Lord" of Scriptures. When such an apparitionappeared before the little girl at Lourdes it gave the impressionof the Virgin Mary. When it appeared before Joan of Arc it gavethe impression of St. Michael. When it appeared before Swedenborgit claimed to be God. So in the case of Joseph Smith it is easyto grant that he saw an apparition and that he believed thatapparition to be the Father and the Son. It is only this latterbelief which I would dispute. I am sure that he believed ithonestly, but that he was not aware of the strange way in whichthings are done from beyond.

Having made this concession, everything resolves itself into aplain case of mediumship with all its attendant signs. He wasfifteen years of age, that period of puberty when both in malesand females the outbreak of psychic power is most common. In hisfirst and greatest revelation "thick darkness gathered round me.""When I came to myself again I found myself lying on my back,looking up to heaven." Is it not clear that this was amediumistic trance and that the experiences which he hadcorresponded with his own earnest spiritual nature, and wereessentially of the same type as those of other teachers likeSwedenborg or Davis?

What was the message? It was really the same which we have gotourselves, but which we have been able to interpret more fullybecause we have had a far wider experience, and have been able tosystematize and compare many examples of what to Smith was anisolated miracle. The message was that the Christian Creeds hadwandered very far away from primitive spiritual truths and thatwhile "they retain the form of Godliness they deny the powerthereof," which expresses in other words what we mean when we saythat ritual and forms have completely driven out that directspirit-communion and power which are the real living core ofreligion.

Smith seems to have had no further psychic experience forthree years, during which he admits very frankly that he was nobetter than his neighbours, though he refused to be bullied outof the fact that he had actually seen a vision. At the end ofthat time, being in his eighteenth year, he had a whole night oftrance. In the course of it he saw a high spirit, who gave thename Moroni and who claimed to have lived upon earth some 1,400years ago—a perfectly possible apparition.

Moroni appeared clad in that brilliant white which is familiarin spiritual accounts, and which occurs so often in the psychicdescriptions of the Bible. Thus far we can closely follow andapprove the sequence of events. Then there comes a passage whichrings untrue, in which Smith gives those long portions of theBible which Moroni quoted, and shows where they were as in theoriginal and where they differed. This would imply that Smithknew the Bible by heart and also that he remembered with verbalaccuracy all that Moroni said, which is surely incredible. Wewill take it that he simply means to give general impressions asto how far Moroni endorsed or disputed the texts.

But now we come to the core of the matter, which leaves Smitheither a deliberate impostor or a most privileged mortal. Moronideclared that a book written upon gold or metallic plates was tobe found at a certain place. Also that there were two stones withthem which were Urim and Thummim, and gave the power ofinterpretation of the book. Of course the idea that Urim andThummim, the mystic stones of the Hebrews, were used for suchends was not novel, and may well have reached the ears of a youthwho lived in a community where religious questions were muchdiscussed. The disappearance of Moroni is described with aprecision of detail which carries the conviction of some actualexperience to the mind. Next day the medium "found my strength soexhausted as to render me entirely unable to work." "I fellhelpless to the ground and for a time was unconscious ofanything." This psychic exhaustion is of course a familiarsymptom and once again fits Joseph Smith's experience into theknown signs of mediumistic power. The spirit-message had toldSmith where the plates were deposited, and, according to hisaccount, he went there and saw the hillside exactly as indicatedin the vision.

They were in a stone box under another stone on the westernslope of the hill, which was near Palmyra in the State of NewYork. The top of the box was actually above ground, butpresumably it was covered by the stone above it. With a leverSmith prised the box up. Inside were the Urim and Thummim, whichare not more particularly described as far as I know, save thatthey were fixed in silver bows, and these again on some sort ofbreast-plate. All this is in accordance with Jewish tradition,easily accessible.

There are points given, however, which impress me, though Iadmit they are by no means final. When a man invents he usuallygives essentials for his story and no more. A novelist, forexample, does not give details which have no bearing upon hisplot. Yet Smith ends his description with the words: "In thebottom of the box were laid two stones crossways of the box andon these stones lay the plates and the other things with them."It would take a De Foe, as it seems to me, to imagine thosesuperfluous stones.

To continue his statement, he reburied the box, on spirit-orders, but visited it for the next four years once every year.Here again, unless there is some truth in it, one sees nopossible object in this detail. On each occasion he claims thathe saw and conversed with his materialized guide, even as Davisclaimed that he conversed with his teacher near Poughkeepsie. Atthe end of four years, on September 22nd, 1827, he was permittedto dig up and carry off the plates with many straight injunctionsas to their use and guardianship. He held them, according to hisstatement, till May 2nd, 1838, or more than ten years, when themessenger came for them and he surrendered them to him.

We naturally ask who saw the plates during that long time? TheMormons have their answer. Three witnesses, Oliver Cordery, DavidWhitmore, and Martin Harris claim that they saw not only theplates but also Moroni himself. Eight others—four of theWhitmer family, three of the Smith family, and HiramPage—solemnly affirm that they saw the plates, "which havethe appearance of gold, of curious workmanship." The moderationof this description increases our respect for their testimony. Itmust be admitted that if Smith was charged to expose the platesto no danger of robbery, he could not, in his humblecirc*mstances, display them to all the world.

Smith says that he got to work at once on his translation,which was made possible in some unexplained way by the Urim andThummim. There was a double task, to Copy the characters from theplates, and secondly to translate the result. We are not told whythe translation could not be done direct from the plates. But inany case the labour was prodigious, since the printed book is 522pages of close print. How such a weight of metal as thisrepresents could be carried by one man is not explained.

At this point there occurs a very important incident. Therewas a well-to-do farmer named Harris who was impressed by theevidence; he obtained leave to take not the plates, but a copy ofthe original and a copy of the translation to Professor Anthon, alearned man of New York. Anthon said that the original wasEgyptian and that the translation was very exact. He examinedsome of the untranslated script and said it was Egyptian,Chaldean, Assyrian and Arabic. He gave a certificate to thateffect. On learning that it was all a spiritual revelation hetore his own certificate up and would have no more to do with thematter. A Dr. Mitchell, who was consulted by Harris, gave thesame evidence as Anthon. I do not see how one can ignore thisstatement or doubt that Harris actually had with him a documentwhich was in Egyptian characters, and which had been translatedby the unlettered farm-hand.

In 1829 Joseph Smith took a schoolmaster, Oliver Cordery, intohis complete confidence, and from that time Cordery helped in theheavy work of the translations, so that, if they were fraud, fromthat day onwards Smith was in the power of Cordery. The latterseems, however, to have continued to be a faithful andreverential follower, and to have actually seen the same visionsas Smith and to have shared his ministry, which formed them intoa priesthood. At this point, as it seems to me, the decay of thesystem begins to manifest itself, for clearly, instead of being amessage of hope and knowledge for the whole human race such as webring by Spiritualism, it is tending towards the discredited andold-world idea of a special priestly caste, of formal sacraments,and of a new sect, complete in itself and antagonistic to theother sects. It is curious that this decline should have comewithin a month of the accession of Oliver Cordery.

From now onwards there came the period of conversions, oforganization, of growth, and of edicts delivered by priestlyauthority, a source of strength, no doubt, when coming from aninspired saint, but dangerous, as all history has shown, whencarried on as a custom. These same edicts in latter days wereresponsible for polygamy, which had nothing whatever to do withthe original teaching of Smith's revelation, but was entirely alater growth, and is now honestly repudiated. But the memory ofit remains to show the danger of so-called inspirational teachingin worldly matters. The course of events from now onwards is partof the general history of the last century, the numerouspersecutions which these people endured, their growth and theircourage, their industry and their prosperity, their migrationsunder persecutions from Ohio to Missouri and from Missouri toIllinois, their vain appeals to the law to protect them, themurder of their leaders, including Smith, their flight across thewestern desert, and their establishment in the Valley of the SaltLake. It is a very wonderful story, and they may well claim thatat every stage of it a protecting hand seemed to be extended tothem. The great leadership of Brigham Young, one of the mostmany-sided characters of history, starter of irrigation, starterof co-operative stores, guide to his people in every difficulty,had much to do with their preservation and success. One reads ofit as part of history, and it is quite a surprise when someelderly man or woman tells you that their own father and motherhad tramped all the way from Omaha or Council Bluffs. But thereis still the important point to be discussed, what about the bookof Mormon? What story does it tell? How far are the factsnarrated in it credible in view of our present knowledge ofhistory and ethnology? It strains us. No one can deny that itstrains us. And yet, knowing the wonderful things that havehappened in the world, one cannot say that it is absolutelyimpossible. I fancy few Gentiles have read the Mormon revelation.I have done so, and would record my impressions.

The translation has been done on a Biblical model, with arepetition of all the "Los" and "Verilies" and "it came to pass"which make scriptural reading so tiresome and ruin it as anarrative. But the story itself is a remarkable one, and it istold in a number of books which have cross-references to eachother which give them cohesion. Thus in the book of Halaman onefinds names and places which have occurred already in the book ofNephi, and so on. If it were all an elaborate invention, it wouldtake immense and unnecessary labour to make such agreements. Letus see what the story is that is told and how far it is credible.It narrates how two families left Jerusalem about 600 yearsbefore Christ, how they came to the Red Sea, and how eventuallythey made their way to America, apparently the West Coast of theSouthern Continent. Here they prospered exceedingly,intermarrying no doubt with natives and forming in time twonations, the Nephites and the Lemanites, which gradually advancednorthwards over the Isthmus and into Mexico and North America.These migrations lasted 1,000 years. A long series of wars worethem down, and the Nephites were finally exterminated in New YorkState, where Moroni, the last chief, buried the records of hispeople. The Lemanites degenerated, mixed with lower races andbecame the Red Indians. Such is the general narrative.

On the purely secular side there is some support. The buriedcities of Yucatan and Central America with their pyramids, andthe general suggestion of Oriental construction and ornament uponthem, might be quoted. Their date is generally agreed as beingnot very ancient, and quite within the scope of the Mormonnarrative. I have even read that Egyptian demotic characters havebeen found among the Mayan records. If that be true, it wouldcertainly be a remarkable corroboration of the Egyptian script ofthe plates.

Then again there is the ethnology of the Red Indians. Some ofthem are very Semitic in appearance. I should like to have theopinion of some learned linguist as to whether any Indian wordscould be traced to an ancient Hebrew root. That would bear verydirectly upon the question. So also might those inscriptions uponthe rocks in the upper waters of the Amazon.

At any rate, it can be said that there is some coincidence infavour of the Mormon account, though I admit the exceedingimprobability of such a voyage at such a time. At any rate, it isnot a manifest absurdity, like that theory that turns the blue-eyed, brown-haired Anglo-Celtic race into the descendants of theten long-nosed, swarthy tribes of Israel.

So much for the historic side. It is on the side of revealedreligion that the record is weak, so weak that there are only twopossible explanations, the first that the whole thing from startto finish is a fraudulent fabrication, the second that JosephSmith had a record, as is vouched for by so many, and that heworked into it his own religious memories and conceptions. Anyother view seems to be untenable. For consider. These fugitiveJews came to America in 600 B.C. And yet we have not only thewhole Christ-story imbedded in this narrative, but long extractsfrom St. Paul, like Moroni chap. x, where the spiritual gifts aregiven in Paul's own words, or Moroni vii, where the splendidpassage upon charity has been stolen and disfigured. Yet there isno record of any communication with Europe or Judaea which mighthave carried this knowledge. The book is filled with thoseexpressions which disfigure the cruder forms of Christianity,"the lamb of God," "the precious blood," "atonement by blood,"and all the other reflections from the pagan worship of Mythra.The Church of Rome is alluded to in the usual abusive style ofthe extreme sectarians as the Mother of Harlots, and so forth.That all this came independently in early America before the yearA.D. 500 is surely a monstrous contention. But if it is aninterpolation of Joseph Smith, forging for pious ends, as so manyhave done before him, then how can we tell where the forgingbegins and ends? I write this in no carping spirit, for I likethe Mormons and I respect their ways, but one must say truth asone sees it.

In the numerous messages, delivered under alleged inspiration,by Smith there are many passages which seem to me to be true, asthey coincide with the spirit-information which we have ourselvesreceived. Thus in one passage he describes how death confers noknowledge upon a man, but he finds his mental outfit the same asbefore. This was both new and true. Then, again, he declares thatspirit is itself a superfine matter, and here again we are inagreement. True marriage carries on, but the tepid or coldmarriage dissolves. That also we know. There are very manyresemblances in our teaching. But in dealing with inspiration onehas always to bear in mind St. Paul's profound saying that theprophet (i.e. the medium) should keep his spirits subject to himand not be subjected by them. One's own conscience and judgmentmust keep constant guard. For want of this some of the earlySpiritualists received counsels as to free love which cast adeserved slur upon the growing movement. So was it with Smith. Hehad revelations which could have come from no high source. "If hehave ten virgins given him by this law, he cannot commitadultery, for they belong to him. Therefore is he justified. Butif one or other of the ten virgins after she is espoused shall bewith another man, she has committed adultery and shall bedestroyed." This is from Joseph Smith's edict of July 12th, 1843.Can one condone this? or can one wonder that the Gentile farmers,out of whose families the ten virgins might possibly come, felthotly towards men who put forward such doctrines, though theymight be justified, no doubt, like some other wicked things by areference to the Old Testament?

I believe, then, that Smith was a true medium, but that hiscontrols were not always reliable, nor did he have sufficientcharacter to check them as they should be checked. I believe thatif ever there was a record on plates, they were certainlytampered with and were much smaller than the translation. But Iam also ready to think that the ultimate result has been toproduce as decent a law-abiding community as is to be found atpresent in any part of the world. But the whole problem is anintensely interesting one, and I commend it to the attention ofsome more advanced psychic student than myself. I shall alwaysretain a memory of the tolerance and courtesy which I received inSalt Lake City. As to the relations between the Gentiles andMormons in Utah, I have a document before me signed by all therepresentative Gentiles, many of them British, which says, "Wedenounce as absolute lies the charges against the Mormons ofsexual immorality, or murder or other depravity, or of tyrannouscontrol in the fields of religion, commerce, morals, or society,and we protest against a continuance of this unfounded and wickedpropaganda." This should be noted by a certain section of theBritish Press.

Before leaving the subject one should take note of the factthat the Mormons have the same regard for the Bible that otherChristian denominations have, and that the book of Mormon is notsupposed to supplant it, but rather to corroborate and enlargeit. It was in this idea of corroboration, as it seems to me, thata pious fraud may have crept in, on exactly the same principlesas the Christian theologians doctored the Gospels in order tosupport certain doctrinal points in the Church. This shortanalysis of the Mormon revelation from the point of view of asympathetic Spiritualist may perhaps induce some Mormon scholarto take up psychic matters and to check my observations from hisown point of view. It seems tome that such a line of thought mayhelp such men to understand the real origin of their own movementwithout in any way derogating from its essential truth. It mayalso serve as a warning against the indiscriminate adoption ofsupposed revelations, which, in the case of polygamy, have doneso much harm to the movement. It is, I am told, spreading inMexico, California, and other places, and I for one think thatthe world will be none the worse in consequence.

VI. — SOUTH CALIFORNIA

Trying Journey—Los Angeles—"CoveredWaggon"—Marvellous Séance—Jonson'sPowers—Catalina Island—A New View of Insanity

In the journey from Salt Lake City one passes rapidly out ofthe irrigated cultivated region and finds oneself in a stretch ofdesert which is sometimes a mere flat plain covered with tufts ofsagebrush and greasewood, and at other times breaks into rockycanyons with weather-worn limestone cliffs. The sagebrush andgreasewood form little olive-green bushes, very much alike to theeye, but with this important difference, that sagebrush grows onground which may be reclaimed, while greasewood is a sign thatthe land is hopeless. Apparently a great part of this plain isthe bed of a huge salt-water lake, cut off from the ocean andelevated 5,000 feet in the air by some gigantic push from below.The salt water evaporated, save for such residual lakes as stillremain, and the salt or alkali has impregnated the soil so thatthe only cure is to soak it in fresh water and so gradually getit clear. When this can be done it will make an enormousdifference in the United States, for no one can realize unlessthey have passed over it how great is the surface which is nowbarren and useless—a mere impediment to communication. Thesnows of Canada have perhaps saved her from a similar misfortune.This journey was rather a trial to us, for we varied from over5,000 feet on the crest of the pass down to some hundreds of feetbelow the sea-level when we passed the terrible Death Valleywhich skirts California. We were a very weary group when at lastwe ran from desert into irrigation and from irrigation intonatural verdure, with oranges glowing on the trees, and cactus-palms and strange semi-tropical growths on every side. Just a dayafter leaving the Land of the Saints we were in what some havecalled the Land of the Sinners—the famous home of thecinema industry.

There is a huge Ambassador Hotel, sister of that whichreceived us hospitably in New York last year, and there we tookup our quarters. It has all that luxury which is characteristicof the best American hotels, and which is rather wasted upon aperson of simple tastes like myself. However, a nice swimming-pool out of doors and a small golf course are adjuncts whicheveryone can appreciate.

The grounds were already rich inflowers, and the lawns looked beautifully green after our journeythrough mountains and deserts. There were beautiful birds andbutterflies to please the eye, and Malcolm on the first daycaptured a yellow swallowtail which gave him great joy. On theevening of the first clear day we went to see "The CoveredWaggon," a very remarkable film which shows how the country wasoccupied, and the trials of the early emigrants. I could notimagine anything more educational, or a greater source oflegitimate pride to an American. The glories of the battlefieldseem sordid things compared to grand human efforts whichculminate in some permanent and beneficent effect. It is typicalof the courtesy of these people that, having heard we werecoming, they had prepared a film of welcome and threw it on thescreen at the beginning of the performance. It was an enormoustheatre, with an audience of several thousands, and one gotextras at this, the source of the cinema industry, which onecannot get further afield. For example, all the Indian chiefsconcerned in the production were standing in a long line upon thestage when the curtain rose. I examined them carefully with myglasses and was much interested. It is impossible to look at anumber of them, especially the women, without feeling that theyare Asiatic, half Chinese, half Esquimaux. Surely, then, NorthAmerica was largely peopled from Behring's Straits? And yet thereis that strain with the Dante nose and chin. They are notMongolian or Turanian. Are they not rather suggestive of theSemite? In that case there would be some slight corroboration forthe Mormon view. Semites from the south may have intermarriedwith Mongols from the north. It will be fascinating in the nextworld when we can get a broader and clearer view of such matters.We had received an invitation from Mr. Baker, President of theSociety of Advanced Psychic Research, to attend one of theirmeetings at Altadena, about fifteen miles from Los Angeles. Theyhad as mediums Mr. and Mrs. Jonson, the former having thereputation of being one of the most powerful materializingmediums in the world, while his wife had also considerablepsychic powers which supplemented his own. I had heard of Jonsonin Toledo, whence he came for his health's sake, to the Pacificcoast, and I had long been anxious to test his capacities. Havingdone so, I can now say with confidence that there was noexaggeration in what I had heard and that I have added one moreto that long succession of tremendous psychic impressions whichit has been my privilege to receive.

The circle was a large one, some twenty-four people, who mettogether once a week, so that it had that great additional powerwhich comes from working together. They were all people ofeducation and standing. The scene was impressive when we arrived,for it was the custom of the circle to put a white surplice overtheir clothes. The effect in the dim light was solemn andstriking. Jonson and his wife were two pleasant, kindly, elderlypersons. He had been sent from Toledo for his health, but hishand-grip was one of the most powerful I can recall, so I fancythat he has nothing now to complain of. His credentials as amedium are high, for his results have been obtained in all sortsof places and conditions.

Among other things I learned that at one time a United StatesSecret Service man had been told off to watch the Jonsons, alsothat the house had been shadowed by detectives to findaccomplices, but all in vain.

There was at the end of the room a small passage which ledelsewhere. The sides of this passage were small lockers. The doorat the end which I examined was wired up with a stout wire, whichpassed through the key, round the handle, and round a staple, sothat it seemed entirely impassable. This passage may have beensix feet long and four broad. This was used as a cabinet.

After some remarkable music the manifestations began, thelight being from a red lamp, which enabled one to see the outlineof our neighbours but not the detail of their faces. The mediumand his wife came out and sat in full view outside the curtainwhich shrouded the little recess which I have described.Presently this curtain opened abruptly and a white-robed figurecame out into the room. I have an exact record of the proceedingsbefore me taken in shorthand by a lady present, and I abridge theactual facts.

The white-robed figure swayed after its entrance, almost likea dress hung up and blown by the wind. It then seemed to gatherstrength and form. It advanced about four feet into the room. Themedium and his wife, as I repeat, were clearly visible, seatedoutside the cabinet under twenty pair of eyes. It was explainedto me that this white figure was Viola, the guide who controlledthe circle. She began to talk in a loud whisper, greeting varioussitters by name, and they returning the greeting in the samecourteous tones as if they were addressing an honoured humanbeing. She explained that she had much to do, and that she mustmake way for others. She then faded away, but whether into thecabinet or just short of it I could not say for certain.

There now came several figures in quick succession. The firstof these was a little old lady wearing spectacles. I stood up andgreeted her, at a point about ten feet from the cabinet. I couldsee her very plainly and she seemed like any other old lady, savefor a certain stiffness in her bearing. She was claimed as themother of one of the circle. She was clad in black.

An instant afterwards came a second old lady clad in white.She was recognized as the mother of Professor Larkin, theastronomer, who was present. My wife and I both advanced to her,and she laid her hand upon our heads, as in blessing. To mywife's question she answered in a whisper that she was veryhappy. The next, clad in white, was a large woman who claimed tobe the sister of one of the company. The two sisters stood justin front of me, both in white, and certainly in general figurethey were very alike, though I could not clearly discern thefeatures. All these figures had, I may say, something subtlyinhuman about them. Their faces varied from chalk to wax, theywere mask-like, and their bearing was curiously stiff andconstrained. In fact they looked like wax-works save that theyglided about and occasionally spoke.

The next materialization was a dear little girl clad in whitewith a coloured sash. She seemed far more human than the others.I could conceive her as an impersonation which was unthinkablewith her predecessors. She gave the name of Crystal Dahlgren, andsaid she had died in South Dakota, but could not say when. Shesat on the floor, her bare legs crossed, and chatted with thecompany. Asked what she had been doing, she said, "Oh, learning,progressing learning about God." "Don't you know," she said in ahigh childish voice, "that life is God? If you see God ineverything, how could you lose your way? If your spirit isstronger than your flesh, it controls the body. Body is matterand matter all goes to nothing, and so spirit is everything andspirit lives."

My wife then asked the little girl some questions.

"Do you live in a house on the other side?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are there lots of beautiful flowers where you live?"

"Very beautiful—in God's garden."

"Tell us about the birds. You love birds?"

CRYSTAL, (with animation). Birds are very beautiful. Birds areGod's messengers of light. God's messengers to sing with cheerwhen you are sad. Birds are beautiful and (to me) oh, I know. Youare the man that knows about fairies, are you not?

A. C. D. Yes, dear.

C. I know about fairies.

A. C. D. You can see them, can't you?

C. Oh yes—listen. Do you know where fairies comefrom?

A. C. D. No, I don't. I would like to know. I wish you wouldtell me.

C. Listen. Fairies are the little lives that have never hadearth-life. They are the cherubs in God's kingdom. They havewings because they have never had earth-life, and they don'tunderstand how to gather the electrons, so God supplies them withwings to propel them.

A. C. D. Are they about us in this world?

C. Always about you, the good fairies. Don't you hear theflutter of their wings?

A. C. D. No, do you?

C. If your ears are attuned, then you hear. Did you never hearfairy music?

A. C. D. No, I am afraid not. Couldn't you materialize a fairysome time?

C. Perhaps. I don't know. They are so light. You see them inthe ether and in the atmosphere, but to come into the mortal! Ido not know about the vibration. It might be too strong.Sometimes when you have the photographic plate that is verysensitive you find them in the atmosphere. Don't you, Mr.Man?

A. C. D. Quite so, my dear. So far as I understand it, youdo.

A. C. D. The birds are not afraid of you?

C. Oh no, they sit all over me.

PROF. LARKIN. Are you near the stars?

C. I go near to them.

PROF. Are there people in the moon?

C. Little tiny dark people, because it is so cold. They can'tgrow.

She then asked for music and interpolated some beautiful birdnotes or whistles. As she rose to go, Mr. Baker said he had a boxof candy for her. He gave it to me to present and she took itwith a little curtsey, as a school-girl might take a prize. Shethen faded out before our eyes. I traced the box of candies asfar as the floor and then it disappeared.

Mrs. Jonson then said that someone had come for me. A smallfemale figure in a very timid way advanced from the curtains. Itcame out about five feet in a hesitating fashion. I came forwardand looked eagerly at it. I could not doubt that the generaloutline of head and shoulders was that of my mother. I lookedhard at the features in the dim red light, and they seemed to befluid and forming themselves before my eyes, but I could notswear to this. The general effect was beyond all doubt. I said,"Is it you, mother?" She threw up her hands and danced up anddown in an ecstasy of delight. Then she vanished and I returnedto my seat with no doubt in my mind that the form had reproducedmy mother, though I admit that the effect was not an absolutelycertain one in the same sense as it was when I saw every smallestdetail of her face in the presence of Miss Bessinet. Mr. Baker'sson Billy followed. He was very visible in a grey suit and blackknotted tie, which was his characteristic dress in life. Ipresume that the ideoplastic substance can in an instant take anyform desired. He was introduced to us. We did not of course knowhim in life, but we found ourselves beyond all doubt talking to avery pleasant young American lad. After a few words he stepped upto me and laid a bit of candy in my hand. "I think the littlelady sent this back to this gentleman," said he. It had actuallybeen suggested by Mr. Baker that one piece should berematerialized for me. We saw the young face now so clearly thatwe were able to remark upon his likeness to his father. Thedialogue then ran thus:

A. C. D. Do you know my Kingsley?

BILLY. I certainly do, sir.

A. C. D. You will give him our love.

BILLY. I think I will let him bring it to you, sir.

A. C. D. That would be best of all.

BILLY. And Raymond—I know him.

A. C. D. It is wonderful to see you.

BILLY. Thank you, sir. I am glad to bring you pleasure.

MRS. BAKER. What can you give us in the way of a talk?

BILLY. Oh my, you overwhelm me, mother.

LADY D. Who is the chief guide helping my husband in his workon the platform?

BILLY. He has a wonderful Arabian who stands at his back andhelps in these mysteries. They are not really mysteries,sir—just everyday occurrences. God's natural law, nothingsupernatural, but it has got to be proved natural law, and willbe. It is all God's plan—very simple plan, sir, but mortalstry to make it complex.

LADY D. The movement is spreading, is it not?

BILLY. Very rapidly.

LADY D. Before long the whole world will be convinced?

BILLY. The world is convinced, but it will not admit it. Manywho know this is the truth for motives of policy will cling tothe old doctrines. But it is coming.

He then gave an interesting discourse on vibrations, sayingthat if they were not tuned aright it was impossible for them tocome through—hence the varying results.

A. C. D. May I ask a question, Mr. Billy?

BILLY. I am just plain Billy.

A. C. D. You told me about an Arab guide. I am interestedbecause I have already been told through my wife's hand that Ihave an Arab as guide.

BILLY. He is standing by you now. He is a very wonderfulArab.

A. C. D. I amg lad of the corroboration. Can you give me hisname?

BILLY. Have you never received messages from him?

A. C. D. He has written through my wife's hand.

BILLY. He is your guardian spirit, sir.

A. C. D. So I understand, and that he is an Arab and was verydistinguished thousands of years ago.

BILLY. His name is given as Ali Ben Hassen.

A SITTER. Billy, there is someone at the back of me now. I canfeel it.

BILLY. That is the Arab, and he is very pleased that I amtelling about him. He is a wonderful, wonderful guide. He isbringing a wonderful power. He and you, Lady Doyle, workingtogether, are going to help Sir Arthur in his work more than everbefore.

He then spoke at some length on the greatness of the ancients,saying that they were greater chemists and artists than we areto-day. "Your modernism is only a return to the olden times."

LADY D. Will you ask this Arab to take care of my husband'shealth? His work is a great strain upon him—and of thechildren.

BILLY. My dear madam, place your children in God's care, andfear not. Fear is the greatest evil of mankind.

After some further talk Billy asked for music—"Lively,please; I don't like funeral music"—and so vanished, aftereighteen minutes of conversation.

I now had a very interesting experience. During the war I hadbeen brought into contact with a young officer, Captain Cubitt,to whom I taught these truths. They consoled him greatly. He waskilled in action. I had often wondered why he had not come backto me to confirm all I had told him. Now a figure emerged fromthe cabinet. I was asked to advance. I was naturally thinking ofmy own son and brother and could not recognize the man in frontof me. Then the face grew clearer and I cried, "Is it Cubitt?" Henodded and seemed pleased. At first he could not speak, butpresently he said in a whisper that he had tried to come back buthad failed. I asked him if he had found things as I taught him.He nodded very emphatically.

Several other figures materialized, making fourteen in all, ofall sexes and ages, from the one small cabinet while the mediumwas visible outside. There were more than twenty witnesses. Howabsurd it is that such vital things should occur, supported bysuch testimony, and that men of science should be engaged instudying how many varieties of moths there are in the world, andscorning this new knowledge as something below theirintelligence.

On the whole I should pronounce the Jonsons to be thestrongest materializing mediums whom I have ever met or have everheard of, though I learn from my reading that such manifestationswere common a generation ago.

I chanced to learn that another investigator, Mr. Holley, ofDetroit, had been introduced to the circle. This gentleman is apractical man of affairs, and I therefore communicated with himto find out how far his impressions were the same as my own. Ifound that he was as satisfied as I was that the phenomena werebeyondsuspicion, but he thought, as I did, that in explainingthem to any third person it might be difficult to get over thefact that another door opened into the cabinet, even though weknew that it was, to all appearance, securely fastened. Itherefore wrote to Mr. Baker for some reassurance on this point.I give an extract from his reply.

"During the past winter the door has remained wiredconstantly. It is wired in such a way that the wire can only betaken off by heavy pliers, as it not only extends through the keybut is wound round and round. The hinges are on the cabinet sideof the door and cannot be reached in any way from the bedroom.All our members have free access to the entire house and we usethose bedrooms for our wraps. We know positively that no one cancome in or go out during these meetings. The mediums liveentirely alone without even a maid. This little passage is theonly natural place for the cabinet."

Of course what I had seen made these assurances quitesuperfluous, but I obtained this additional information as to thedoor in order to reassure any reader who had not seen thephenomena—who might think there was some loophole forsubstitution or impersonation by means of the wired door.

In the first year of its existence this society had experienceof 135 different materializations, of which only 14 wereunidentified.

At the risk of wearying the reader I give this sitting at somelength, not only because it was one of the most remarkable whichI have attended during my life, but also because it meets so manyof the objections which people quite honestly but ignorantlymake, about no information ever coming through from the otherside. A great deal of information was conveyed in this singlesitting, and yet it was only one of a series. I claim that thisinformation when collected and carefully reported is the mostimportant teaching which has come to this earth for two thousandyears. [*]

[* Vide Appendix. Note on Jonson's mediumship.]

We had some days before the opening lecture, so it was decreedthat I should have a complete rest.

On May 17th we drove down to Port Los Angeles, which is twentymiles from the city, an interesting journey, which brought us tothe point of embarkation for Catalina Island, which was our goal.This Port Los Angeles is going to be a mighty harbour, andalready its export of oil and import of lumber are among thegreatest in the world. It was crowded with tankers and timber-ships, and great works were going on which would enlarge it andgive better wharfa*ge. It is not generally known in England howvast is the economic expansion in this quarter. Only a few yearsago the new oil-fields were discovered, and now the whole shore-line of this region is bristling with derricks. They have to sinkas deep as 3,000 or 4,000 feet to get the oil, and if we acceptthe view that this oil is the residue of former animal life, thisfact gives a striking illustration of the time that organic lifehas been upon the globe. Much of this vast continent would seemto have a subterranean sea of oil, showing that at one time ithas been the scene of a luxuriant and wonderful vitality, whichis indicated also by those huge prehistoric remains which arenowhere so enormous and so numerous as in the western half ofAmerica.

Economically it is of course a gold-mine, but however prolificNature may have been in the past, it is difficult to think thatthe supply is inexhaustible. At present the drain upon it isenormous. As we steamed out of the harbour we passed one greatRockefeller freighter bound for New York via Panama, with 100,000barrels on board. We learned on enquiring that though much moneywas made in oil companies, much was also lost, and that nearly asmuch money was sunk in the ground as ever came out of it.Sometimes there is no oil and the sinking is pure waste,sometimes the drill breaks or disconnects and cannot be picked upagain, sometimes there are disastrous fires. These affect thesmall men only, however, and the large companies, which havebroad interests, think nothing of paying several hundred percent, per annum on their original capital.

Catalina Island lies twenty-five miles from the mainland. Itwas a fine though cloudy day, the ocean was smooth, and thepassage very pleasant as we were allowed the privilege of thecaptain's bridge. The children were delighted to see the fins ofnumerous "sharks," so called. Personally I thought they werereally large dogfish, which are the jackals of the ocean. Anumber of pelicans flew near the ship and a few flying fishskimmed over the gentle Pacific heave.

There is a good hotel, the St. Catherine, at Avalon, which isthe little town at which one lands. The whole place belongs toMr. Wrigley, the Chewing-gum King, who is said to have given amillion pounds to buy out all other interests. He has a finehouse upon one of the hills. His enormous wealth is a sign of theprevalence of this horrible habit of chewing which does much todisfigure American life in the eyes of the traveller, and todiscount the appearance of the fine men and pretty women who makeup the nation. Venus would look vulgar if she chewed, andShakespeare a lout. There was never so hopelessly undignified acustom. A man may drink and look a king among men, he may smokeand look a fine fellow and a sportsman, but the man, or, worsestill, the woman, who chews becomes all animal at once. And yetthe habit is incredibly prevalent. I have seen seven out of tenpeople, young and old, ruminating like cows, in the single lineof a tram-car. Therefore, as I love both the Americans and theircountry, I have no love for Mr. Wrigley, who has demoralized theone by his products and disfigured the other by hisadvertisem*nts. But surely it is a passing habit, like theexpectoration of the last generation, or the snuff-taking of ourancestors, and it will remain only as an ugly and ludicrousmemory.

Catalina Island has a general resemblance to Capri, thoughless precipitous. It rises at its highest to 2,000 feet, and itis the home of thousands of wild goats which are rounded up fromtime to time. The length of the island is 15 miles, and thebreadth about 8. It has been cleverly exploited as a pleasure-resort, and its glass-bottomed boats are famous the world over.They are good-sized steamers and the people sit in rows, theirbacks to the ocean, staring down into the glass tanks, consumingMr. Wrigley's products while they admire, through the crystalwater, the wonders of the deep. It is certainly verybeautiful—the huge fronds in slow rhythmical motion, thedeep blues and greens where the vegetation opens out, theunconscious fish who go about their lawful occasions, with noregard at all to the boat above them. It is a huge naturalaquarium and I have seen nothing like it. None of the fish werelarge—nothing over five or six pounds—but some werevery brilliant, especially the golden perch, of a beautifulorange-red. The striped rock-bass were the most numerous, and wecaught glimpses far below us of strange sea-slugs and sea-cucumbers crawling on a sandy bottom. Later we turned out-board,and watched a great colony of sea-lions which lay basking on therocks, some of them barking at us as we passed. Finally, we woundup our experiences by an amazing exhibition of diving by a whiteman named Adargo, who was an islander, and may from his swarthyappearance have had some of the great Spanish blood in him. Heswam down forty feet fifty-six is his record, and a world record,I believe—and there gathered some shells for us, finallylying on his back at the bottom, with his mouth open, gazing upat us. He can keep under water for three minutes. The shells wereornamental Abalones, and we were glad to bring a couple away withus as a remembrance of a remarkable experience.

In the evening we set forth in a launch with a powerfulsearchlight in order to attract flying fish. We cruised close tothe shore, as the creatures avoid their larger enemies by comingto the shallows. It was really a very wonderful spectacle, unlikeany that we have seen in our travels. The brilliant beam of lightlit up the craggy, dim-coloured base of the cliffs, while thestretch of sea between was broken continually by the shiningstreaks of the flying fish. The only simile which would conveythe impression would be to imagine a deep blue tropical skycriss-crossed by shooting stars, each of which came to an end ina little silvery explosion. It was an excursion which none of uswould forget. We were amused by the patter of the guide who hasto explain matters to the tourists. Such people are usually anuisance, but this particular one had a wit of his own. His lastwords were: "If you liked the excursion, please tell yourfriends; but if you didn't like it, then keep quiet aboutit."

Next morning we had a long boating excursion down the coast ofthe island to a point where it narrows to an isthmus, acrosswhich we walked. Some white-headed fish-eagles flew over the boatand some wild goats were seen in the distance, but otherwisethere was no great sign of life. Round the hotel in the morningwe had seen some alleged humming birds, tiny creatures, but moredrab in colour than I had expected. The boys rummaged everywherefor a rattlesnake, but to our relief they failed to find one. Itold them the old story of "Is this nigg*r a-fishin', or is thisfish a nigg*rin'?" to point my moral that there were two sides toa snake hunt. It had already been pointed at the Bronx Gardens inNew York, where our particular friend, the keeper of the snakes,had been bitten by a rattler. He would certainly have died had itnot been that by a perfect miracle there was in New York at themoment on a visit a Brazilian doctor who is the greatestauthority in the world upon the subject, and who had somerattlesnake serum among his luggage. A few injections of thissaved the man's life.

Our jaunt down the coast left us with a vague remembrance ofdeep blue sea, of cinnamon and melon cliffs, of scrub oakvegetation, with occasional gum trees, of limestone caves withthe sea foaming into them, and of little coves with sandy beachesat the mouth of steep wooded valleys. In one of these clearingsthere was recently found an Indian burial-ground with 250skeletons, though how they could have lived on this mountainousisland is hard to understand. They must have been fugitives fromthe mainland. At the isthmus we saw a sinister old Chinese junk,anchored there as a curiosity. She was built, it was said, in1530, and so solidly that she was still seaworthy. In size sheseemed about the same tonnage as Columbus' ship of a generationbefore. Her more recent history was entirely of piracy, slavery,mutiny, and finally use as a floating prison—a mostdisreputable old bit of ocean flotsam.

So ended our adventures at Catalina, save that we went fishingon the last morning, with no success save for one very largemackerel. We were invited into the Tuna Club, however, where thetrophies are kept, and there we were shown what we might have gothad we been more fortunate or more skilful. Enormous sword-fishtaken on a thin line and played often for ten hours, tuna-fish of300 pounds which average an hour in the taking, a huge deep-seabass of 350 pounds, long snouty barracoota, yellow-tails, rock-cod, ribbon-fish, dolphins (reminiscent of old Greek coins),ghost-fish, sun-fish (looking as if they had been cut in two andthe front end had never got over the wonder of it), sucker-fish,pilot-fish—every kind of queer fish adorn the walls of thatangler's paradise, which is presided over by an ancient pictureof Izaak Walton, who would certainly have thought he had anightmare had he really seen the horrible un-English creaturesaround him.

I have mentioned that an Indian graveyard was found upon theisland. I had an opportunity of studying the photographs of theskeletons. One of them was a man seven feet in height, so theywere clearly a very different race from those old savages whosestocky figures and gorilla-like skulls were being uncovered atthat very moment at Santa Barbara, where an old mound wasexplored. The Catalina skeletons were all found with their kneesdrawn up to their chins, which was, if I remember rightly, theattitude of all British savages of the Neolithic period. Perhapsthe bent knee has always been the symbol of prayer, and thisattitude was universally adopted in early days as a propitiationof the gods. Each skeleton had an Abalone shell with it, in whichwere deposited some of its earthly treasures, sordid and mean,but the principle the same as thereat King Tut with his throneand his chariot.

On May 19th our short holiday came to an end, and wereluctantly turned our backs upon what will always be to all ofus one of the dream-places of the world. That evening we wereback once more at the Ambassador Hotel at Los Angeles, with avery full week of work before me, but a fine reservoir of renewedstrength with which to meet it.

On Sunday, May 20th, I had a long talk with Doctor Wicklandand his remarkable wife. Dr. Wickland is doing pioneer psychicwork as an Alienist, and is about to bring out a book which maycause ridicule in this generation and respect in the next one. Heis convinced that many forms of lunacy are produced by obsessionexactly as portrayed in the New Testament. That is the starting-point of his system, and it is one which is founded upon a greatdeal of direct experiment and observation. The next stage is thediscovery that static electricity makes the obsessing entity veryuncomfortable. He leaves the victim more readily if he hasanother habitation, even though it only serves as a half-wayhouse, before he entirely disappears. These seem to be the threemain planks of his platform.

The procedure then is as follows. The sufferer is placed on aplatform with static electric attachments. The controlling spiritis reasoned with, kindly in the first place, more severelyafterwards. Meanwhile Mrs. Wickland is placed in trance. If theentity is still obstinate, electricity is gently applied, heleaves the sufferer and possesses Mrs. Wickland, from whom he isexpelled by the powers of her own natural spirit, as it returnsto her body. This brave lady is 61 years of age, and I have neverseen anyone healthier and saner at the age, so it is clear thatthis self-sacrificing and dangerous task has not hurt her.

I have never met anyone who has such wide experience of thelower class of "Invisibles," as he calls them, as Dr. Wickland,for he is working with them every day. "They are not wicked forthe most part," said he, "though you get a mean one now and then.They are simply ignorant. They don't know where they are and theycan't believe they are dead. They are dreadfully puzzled andworried like people in a wild dream. 'I wish I had taken morecarbolic acid,' cried one; did not take enough or I would notstill be living.'" These words came through on November 11th. Thewoman, who gave her name and address, had died from suicide onthe 8th. The doctor verified it, though he had never heard of herbefore. They are to be treated, as everyone should be treated,with love. They are usually quite amenable to that and toargument. For some reason they find that it is not a singlespirit, but a colony which takes possession of a person. "My nameis Legion," says the New Testament. Dr. Wickland claims to haveexpelled as many as fifteen from one person. It opens up a vistaof medical possibilities, all depending upon the practicalrecognition of Spiritualism.

VII. — LOS ANGELES

Journey to San Diego—Remarkable Mirages—GoldwynStudio—Mrs. Wagner's Mediumship—Dr. and Mrs.Wickland—A Wonderful Exhibition—Return of an EvilSpirit—The Fairbanks—Testimony of a Clairvoyant—TheOil-fields

On May 21st I was booked to lecture at San Diego, a veryrising town upon the Mexican border, which is said to have thefinest harbour in Western America. It is an awkward distance-140miles—from Los Angeles, but a kindly Spiritualist, Mrs.Finlay, volunteered to take us over in her motor-car. This gaveus an opportunity of seeing closely all this section ofCalifornia, which is chiefly devoted to orange cultivation. Agood deal of it, however, where the irrigation does not extend,is still desert of a wild and hilly description. It should be andhas been the haunt of bad men, for the border is close and thereis no practical extradition, so that the bandit or hold-up mancan "get away with it." Crimes of this sort are surprisinglycommon, and on the day we motored from the Catalina terminus weobserved that a ear had been held up and a passenger shot on thesame road that very morning. However, nothing of the sort came todistract the serenity of our drive, which was very beautiful inthe latter part, running for fifty miles beside the ocean. Welunched at an isolated wooden inn, where the proprietor bustledout and announced himself as "Fra Lancasheer—Oldham, y'know." He was very interested to mow that I had lecturedthere.

We suffer greatly in England from the intrusion of vulgaradvertisem*nts where they spoil the scenery, but the Americansare far worse used than we. It is really shameful that a fewshould for their personal gain ruin the aesthetic and artisticpleasure of the whole nation. It matters little that the flatplains of Ohio or Illinois should be disfigured by Mr. Wrigley,of Chicago, or by Mr. Dodge, of Detroit, and Possibly the farmersderive some income from turning their fields into hoardings, butwhen on a lovely summer day you find your whole view of thePacific, in a country which is as exquisite as the Riviera,broken by such legends as "Hot Dog," "Frankfurter Sausage," "WhyNot a Kelly Car?" "Cheap Eats and Drinks," and so forth, it istime for that poor worm, the Community, to turn and to protectit* helpless and lovely Mother Nature. In one respect theAmerican ads. are less offensive than our own, since they areinnocent and do not press upon your notice any of our variousforms of alcohol.

We were greatly interested during our drive by the most vividmirage. that. I have ever seen. A great lake with trees risingfrom it lay on our left at a mile distance, but vanished as weapproached. It was incredibly realistic, even to the shadow ofthe trees on the water. Again it appeared upon the asphalted roadwhich turned into a pool, showing reflections as a pool would do.There was hardly a cloud in the sky and no possibility ofrefraction from a distance. What is it? People take it forgranted, but do not attempt to explain it. I have seen a visionof hills and water in the Sahara when there was no water in thatdirection for a thousand miles. Could it be that the vibrationsof heat might create a condition in which we get a glimpse ofsome other world than ours? I know how wild such a theory mayseem, and yet, as Tyndall says, Imagination is the pioneer of allscientific knowledge.

The lady with whom we drove, a very charming and culturedwoman, who had served in France during the war, was a livingexample of the success of our mission. She had dropped into alecture of mine in New York last year, had been interested, hadarranged a sitting with Miss Besinnet in Toledo, had beyond alldoubt seen her two dead brothers, had brought in succession herfather, her mother, and her husband to verify it, and finally hadconverted a number of her friends, including people of someinfluence. Thus from one single centre does the knowledge spread.Her mother's life had been saved, she assured me, by the comfortwhich had been brought.

The lecture at San Diego was a great success, the theatrebeing entirely sold out and the audience most receptive andintelligent. A question from one gentleman was handed me beforethe lecture, and I did not answer it, for I really could not. Iquote it as an example of how the finer points of psychicknowledge are penetrating the community. He said, "I am unable todifferentiate between the spirit-picture which a clairvoyant seesand the similar vision seen by the psychometer when holding aninanimate object in his hand." I leave the question as a problemfor the advanced psychic student.

By two o'clock on Tuesday, May 22nd, I was back in LosAngeles, having travelled 300 miles by road and given a lectureof one and a half hours, which was not a bad record for my sixty-fourth birthday. They are kind folks, these Americans. Themanager of the hotel conveyed a great birthday cake up to ourroom. He had mercifully put only one candle on the top. "We justguessed at the age," said he. I assured him that otherwise wecould not have seen the cake.

We spent one morning in going over one of the great cinemastudios. This particular one was the Goldwyn. They are certainlyamazing places, and things are done with a thoroughness whichdeserves success. It was a wonderful experience to come out of ahot, dusty suburb all plastered with the price of lots and everysort of hideous modern defacement, to pass through a door, and tofind ourselves in the presence of Philip, Mary, and their courtall seated motionless around their banquet table, with everydress and jewel and plate and goblet finished off to the lastpossible degree of perfection. No tinsel and nothing tawdry. Evenso they lived. It was like stepping back in a moment to theactual scene. The courtiers whispered. A wounded courier arrivedwith news from Don Juan. The sulky King glowered. The Queenpicked daintily at her plate. It was a wonderful vision, and thenin a moment we were back among town lots and chewing gum oncemore, with great hoardings which implore me to preserve thatschool-girl complexion.

In another shed they were preparing a scene in an old dugoutof the German War. A man stood amid the rafters and beams wavinghis hands in a strange way. "What is he doing'?" "He is weavingspiders' webs." So he was—and very good webs, too. So farhave they pushed realism.

In the evening of May 23rd I opened my campaign in the TrinityAuditorium, with a very large audience. Nothing could have gonebetter, and I had the pleasure of confining myself to thephilosophic exposition without photographs, which gives me timeto develop my argument and my experiences. I have seldom feltmore in touch with my audience, and they were so quick andintelligent that the applause often came before I had time tomake my point.

We had a séance on May 24th with a Mrs. Inez Wagner, who ispastor of a Spiritualist church and a strong trumpet medium.Denis came with us, and besides my wife Mrs. Finlay, the lady whotook us to San Diego, and her mother, Mrs. Evans, were present.There were lights, most of which were invisible to me, but Denis,whose psychic perceptions are very acute, could see them andreport them as quickly as the medium. The lights had not been outmore than a few minutes when the deep masculine roar of thespirit-control broke forth, welcoming us. It was a sound which nowoman could produce, and I was the only man present. As hecontrol-spirit was an Irishman, I asked him, "What about poor oldIreland? Is she to have peace at last?" "Yes, she is," heanswered. "We have had spirit-conferences sitting over Irelandday and night endeavouring to get peace ideas imposed upon theleaders. We have succeeded. There will be no civil war withUlster. All will unite in time." I give the prophecy as received,though I have never looked upon prophecy as one of the certaingifts of the spirit. Even the early Christian circle went sadlyastray upon that, for they foretold the immediate end of theworld.

We had a number of messages which came from John Doyle,Richard Doyle, Mary Doyle, Charles Doyle. These are just thenames that were got in New York in one of Mr. Ticknor's meetings,and this fact makes it the more probable, as I pointed outbefore, that the spirit-control, who has unlimited power ofreference to literature, may bring names when the personalitiesare not actually present. That it is not the medium who does thereference is shown by the fact that nothing short of omniscienceconcerning what has been printed could give all the details Ihave at various times received. I believe the spirit-control haspractical omniscience concerning all such sources and canreproduce it all. If this is not so, why is it that thereferences are so often to things which have in some way at sometime appeared in print?

The control clearly knew intimate details about our own littlecircle. "We will do Billy's eyes good," said one message."Malcolm will write cinema plots on psychic subjects," saidanother. What could this Californian medium, a complete stranger,know in her own normal self about Billy or Malcolm?

Mrs. Evans's son Nelson came through and spoke in a veryconvincing way. He said that he had met in spirit my son Kingsleyat Ocean-side. Now Oceanside was the littleplace where we hadstopped for lunch on our way to San Diego, and Nelson Evans hadsaid to his sister in advance that he was coming in the motorwith us. Kingsley, I know, is often with us also. Clearly theymet when we walked by the beach at Oceanside. The medium had nomeans of knowing we had ever been at Oceanside—the oneplace where we got out of our motor. This seems to me highlyevidential.

Mrs. Wagner seemed to me a good woman and an honest medium,and her control was certainly a very striking personality. Shestood her trumpet in a dish of water, as the young Chicago mediumdid. I examined the water afterwards and found a well-markedsediment, though whether this was ectoplasmic or not I knownot.

One other incident in this successful séance is worthrecording. My wife had seen a photograph of the late Nelson Evansand had at once said, "But I know him. I know his face quitewell." This was unknown to the medium. When Nelson Evans came inspirit he said, "I have met Lady Doyle before. We have met beforemy death during sleep-time when our etheric bodies wereliberated." This, if it was a coincidence, was certainly veryremarkable. I am told that the Rev. Dr. Herrick is as good amedium as Mrs. Wagner. If this is so, Los Angeles is wellprovided for.

On the evening of May 24th we had one of the most curious ofall our strange experiences in America. This arose from a visitto Dr. Wickland and his remarkable wife, of whom I have alreadyspoken. I examined many of Dr. Wickland's papers, and saw theplatform and the machine for static electricity by means of whichobsessing spirits are driven out of the patients. I sat on theplatform, received a shock, and entirely sympathized with theentities in their desire to quit. Dr. Wickland has gatheredseveral very intelligent assistants round him, especially a Mr.Goetz, whose own child had been made normal by these means. Theyall agreed as to the marvellous cures effected. The matter iswell worthy of the most serious attention of the medicalprofession, for the proofs seem to stand close scrutiny and thetreatment offers good hopes where all other hope is gone. Thedoctor and his wife are not charlatans, but are absolutelyunselfish, people who are urged on by a very pure desire to helphumanity. If he makes his point, and I believe he will, his namewill live with that of Harvey or Lister or any other greatrevolutionary teacher in the science of Medicine—and yethis whole system is but a return to a principle which was acommonplace in the days of the Christ.

A very large company, some forty at the least, assembled inthe evening for the psychic demonstration which was given by Mrs.Wickland. It was certainly a most extraordinary performance andleft us all in a state of amazed admiration. After some musicMrs. Wickland, in ordinary l i le a very gentle and sweet-faced,grey-haired lady, went into trance. She then proceeded to act aplay in some Slavonic language, of which she knows nothing in hernormal condition. They lay contained eleven characters and sowonderful was her expression and her pantomime that there was nodifficulty in following the plot. It was a morality play,depending upon the marriage of Love (the lady) and Wisdom (theman), being interrupted by the ruffian Selfishness and his womanFrivolity, who murder the lovers, and are in turn brought tojustice. I have seen all the greatest actresses of my generation-Modjeska, Bernhardt, Druse, Terry—but I do not think thatany one of them would have played these eleven parts, without astage or a costume, in so convincing a way. The spirits' ownaccount is that they are a band of strolling players on the otherside, who represent this play before the undeveloped dead inorder to teach them the moral, and that they use the wonderfulmediumship of Mrs. Wickland in order to demonstrate their powerto us mortals. It was very impressive.

The play did not end the wonders of the evening. After a pausethe medium was obsessed by a new entity. In a moment she assumedthe manner, the language, and, so far as it was possible for agentle, refined lady, the appearance of a tough of the worstsort. She was violent, aggressive, and abusive—wanted toknow "Where the hell am I?" and who the folk were who werestaring at him. Clearly this was one of those numerous earthboundspirits who do not know they are dead, and who are brought byhigher spirits for instruction to human circles which can getinto touch with such low forms far better than angels can. Aftersome pressure he gave his name, Jacky Williams. No, he wasn'tdead. What damned nonsense! He had seen a light and some chap hadsaid, "You go in there and you will get what will do you good."He felt himself and realized he was dressed like a woman. "Well,what next?" he cried, and roared with laughter. "My memory seemssorta gone!" said he. "I've been walkin' and walkin', and Godknows where I've been." He was reasoned with and talked gentlyto, and then suddenly the change came. "Oh, mother, mother!"cried the medium, her hands and eyes raised in the air. "Oh,mother, it's You? Oh, forgive me, mother, for the sorrow I havebrought you!" He fell on his knees in an agony, and poured hiswhole soul out in contrition. It was a most moving scene, and Iam sure there were few dry eyes in the room. "See the beautifulhall!" he cried. "Oh, how beautiful! And the ladies andgentlemen! Oh, mother, am I to go in there?" presently the mothertook possession of the medium and thanked us all. "Thank God, Ihave him now. He was the only one I could not find. It was Dr.Peebles who did it. Dr. Peebles brought him in here." The episodewas a wonderful and convincing instance of spirit-power andpsychic law. Dr. Wickland assured us that these spirits who didnot know that they were dead, but who imagined they were in someterrible long-drawn nightmare, were common among the unspiritual.I le had one case—an ex-priest—where the man had beendead seventy-five years and still insisted that he was alive. Ouropponents do not realize the price they may have to pay.

I carried away with me from the Wicklands some stenographicaccounts taken from the hundreds of records where variousentities had spoken through Mrs. Wickland. One of the mostinteresting was Mrs. Eddy, who, whether one agrees with her ornot, must have been a remarkable woman. I do not believe ineffects without causes, and, as in the case of Mormonism, Icannot think that a movement which affects the whole world camefrom total error. However little sympathy I may personally havefor Mrs. Eddy's character, her posthumous views are interestingas being far more reasonable and measured than they were in life.She still upheld—and no doubt rightly—the creativepower of mind, and how by thinking of a thing, such as a disease,we may actually cause it. The curious fact that many doctors havedied of the conditions which they speciallyinvestigated—Liston, for example, of an aneurism would seemto bear upon this. "A doctor tells you you have gall-stones. Youconcentrate your mind upon gall-stones, gallstones, until you canthink of nothing else. You have in your mind a creative power.You may create your own condition." So far the posthumous Mrs.Eddy seems to be on firm ground. She bewails, however, that shecut loose from the spiritual. "I made a mortal error there," shesaid. "I feel so sad. I do wish I could tell them to open thedoor for the spirit of understanding, and not keep on justreading and reading and concentrating." Finally she bewailed thepresent tendency of her Church. "My people are running tocommercialism, and it is money, money, money. I closed the doorfor my people and it is hard. If I had used my psychic power Icould have helped thousands." I confess that I like the spirit-lady very much more than the mother of the great million-poundpile in Boston, with her foolish utterances alternating with thewisdom of Jesus upon the walls.

We spent the morning of May 25th in examining some of thosegreat cinema studios which are the pride of Los Angeles, and someof those great impersonators who are the pride of the cinemastudios. We first made the acquaintance of Douglas Fairbanks andhis wife, better known as Mary Pickford, who are, I suppose, atthis moment, the most popular conception of the ideal male andfemale. We came to the conclusion that the popular conception wasquite right and that the public had got a perfectly truereaction. It would be hard to meet two people who have been lessspoiled by universal praise and by sudden wealth. Save forHoudini, I know no one who has performed such reckless, dare-devil acts as Fairbanks, and one only fears that some day he maylose that nerve which carries him through. He told me that onlyonce had he been shaken, and that was after leaping over a narrowgorge in the Colorado canyon with a 2,000 feet drop. He landed ona small ledge only a foot or two across, and when he looked downhe was physically sick. As a rule, however, his feats leave himquite unshaken.

We were greatly impressed by the atmosphere of good-feelingand happiness which prevailed in this huge place, where hundredsof men are employed. It filters down from the two chiefs who rulethe male and the female art. No cross word is ever allowed. Allare brothers working to a common end. Such a community allsmiling and interested in their work under that deep blue sky andin that perfect climate seem to me to be nearer the communitiesof which we read in the beyond than any earthly institution whichwe have encountered. We found Mary Pickford intensely psychicherself, with many gifts of the spirit, while Fairbanks had arobust open mind which only asked for definite experience. Weindicated how to get it.

Among the employees was an enormous negro, aged twenty, whoseemed to me, when stripped, to be the most powerful man I hadever seen. He weighed 240 pounds, was 6 feet 4 inches high, andas active as a cat. Fairbanks beckoned to him to come with meinto a room that we might examine his proportions. I saw himshrink away and look at me with fear in his eyes. When we gotinto the room he still looked askance at me. "This is the spook-man," said he, and then later, "I wouldn't like one in my room atnight." His fear was very real, and I felt that if I had slowlyapproached this Hercules with my eyes fixed upon him he wouldhave bolted with a howl. It gave me an insight into the power ofthose Voodoo priests and magicians who have sway over just suchformidable babies as poor Sam. He had the brain of a child often, but his body-was terrific.

From the Fairbanks studio we passed on to that of JackyCoogan, the dear little boy whose natural vivacity has won thehearts and admiration of the world. It is said that he hasalready earned some millions of dollars for his parents. He isnow only eight years old, and very small at that, but bright andalert to the last degree. He seemed very patient over what musthave seemed stupid drudgery from his point of view, and hereadily accepted every idea suggested to him. They asked me to bephotographed with him, so I employed the time telling him agruesome Sherlock Holmes tale, and the look of interest and aweupon his intent little face is an excellent example of thosepowers which are so natural and yet so subtle. Long may Jackyremain a dear, natural child, uncontaminated by hisprosperity.

On May 26th I was entertained to lunch by the business men ofLos Angeles at the City Club. I told them the story which theyprobably knew already of the Los Angeles man who was admitted toheaven, but Peter whispered to him as he passed, "I am afraid youwill be disappointed." We had a very pleasant function and I madesome new friends. From the point of view of my mission thesemeetings, even though I confine myself to mundane subjects, dogood, as they show the public that I am not a wild-eyedvisionary, but a man of affairs like themselves. Many of themasked me where they could hear me speak about Spiritualism, so Ihad clearly awakened interest.

I had a long conversation afterwards with a Dr. Jacquelin, whois one of the leading authorities upon dietetics. He has been apsychic student for many years and has had some remarkableexperiences. The following seems to me to be unique. His wifedied quite suddenly in a Paris hotel, and the stricken husband,crazy with grief, mourned in a frantic fashion over the deadbody. The hour of the death was 3.15. When he returned to Americathe wife came back through a Canadian medium who knew nothing ofthe circ*mstances. "Dearest," she said, "you thought I was deadat 3.15. My senses were really alive until half-past three, andnever shall I forget my suffering as I saw your grief and wasunable to allay it." I see no loophole for any explanation heresave that a direct message had come from the dead wife—amessage which gives us a curious lesson in the permanence of thesenses at the time of dissolution.

I also made the acquaintance of Mr. Hobson, who in his youthserved in the Navy, and bottled up Cervera's fleet in a Cubanport, for which he became the most kissed man in the UnitedStates. He seemed even now a fine, upstanding, energetic fellow.He is at present endeavouring to bottle up something far moredangerous than poor overmatched Cervera ever was, and that is thedope habit. He tells me that the menace is terrific, that thereare several million of addicts in the States, and that they arerapidly increasing. Dr. Jacquelin confirmed this, and added thatit had even penetrated into the schools. The great difficulty isthat some of these dopes—heroin, for example—are asynthetic product of coal-tar, and that no activity at the CustomHouses can prevent the addict getting his supply. The only cureseemed to be in education, for if a man or woman realized thatthe first sniff of that white powder might really be the firststep to a dreadful lingering death, that first step might not betaken.

There are moments when I realize how directly I am helped onmy mission, a matter for which I can take no personal creditwhatever, though it is an eternal subject for wonder andcongratulation. Before we left, in my own home circle through thehand of my wife, I had assurances not only that our own friendson the other side and our own guides were coming with us, butthat some exalted spirits would assist us. My guide wrote: "Amuch stronger guard than I will be with you upon the wholejourney. They are very, very high. They are among God's chosenband." On a later date we got: "Don't ever fear. Such wonderfulguards will be round you. Some very, very high souls arc comingspecially down to work through you. I am only one of the lesserones. It is a great band."

So much for prophecy. Now for performance. Mr. Carl Bronson,of Los Angeles, is a well-known musician, and has the blessedgift of clairvoyance. He wrote a report of my second lecture fromthat point of view, recording his very detailed psychicimpressions in the Evening Herald. He said: "I have the, to me,natural faculty of seeing spirits in the air, much as one wouldsee living beings moving about in an, expanse of clear water." Hethen described how he could trace a barrier of protection builtup round me by my own aura, which, he explains, is necessary forevery speaker and singer, so as to hold their own personality andnot get confused and mixed by the tumultuous thoughts of thecrowd.

"As he warmed up to his subject, a lilac aura, almost ultra-violet, began to exude from him, outlining his form. This aurawidened or narrowed during the lecture as the speaker grewimpressive or not. When he endeavoured to explain some veryabstruse point, his efforts to 'put it across would causedistinct flashes tog low out from this very central aura.

"The psychic formations around the speaker indicated clearlythat he is receiving great assistance from the usually unseenworld, and that he is in no sense a hobbyist, but has graduallyprepared himself for the work in hand. The dull shadows of loveof notoriety were entirely absent from his aura, nor did materialaccretion enter its drab beam into his frank glow.

"Many spirits of a yet higher plane than he perhaps dreamedstood interestedly about him last night, and their golden bodiescontrasted markedly with the duller glows of the friends on theastral plane who are helping him. I could recognize thosespirits of the higher planes, but I could not those of theastral, so that I cannot tell him who the friends are, being ableonly to see their forms.

"I have never been in what is called a trance, and see thesethings as anyone else sees in daylight. Last night the spirits ofhigh realms came out strong enough round Sir Arthur to makeshadows on the old Trinity walls as they passed about the lightedauditorium."

This prophecy in our own circle and its corroboration from anindependent witness of high character must surely impress othersas it has impressed us.

The day after the lecture a friend, Mr. Carey, took us in twomotors to see the Ventura oilfields, which lie seventy milesnorth in the Santa Barbara direction. We were a large andcheerful party, as not only the children but Mr. Erskine and MissFrench were able to come also. The country to the north is aseries of low hills amid which the excellent road winds. We haveno motor roads like those round Los Angeles, and the number ofmotors is prodigious. When we crowned a hill and looked back wecould see the whole long road dotted thickly, even when we werefifty miles from the city, for it was Sunday and everyone wasout. There were no bicyclists and no pedestrians.

Land speculation seems a huge industry. Every few hundredyards there were placards imploring people to buy and offeringspecial advantages; while every mile or two there were littletract-houses, as they are called, for seeing clients andeffecting sales. I fancy land-sharks are as numerous as in thedays of Martin Chuzzlewit. On one lot there was printed up:"Don't be taken in. Don't buy. There is no water." I fancy thatman had been swindled, but I fancy also that he ran about anequal chance of being sand-bagged or of getting his money back soas to be rid of him.

We made our way to Ventura, where we lunched in a pleasantbeach hotel with a blue sea before us, and the outlying islands,which are almost uninhabited and are overrun by wild boar andwild goats. After lunch we visited the oil-wells. The oil is sopure that at one well it was 98 per cent. paraffin, and could beemptied straight into the tanks of the motor-cars without anytreatment. At one point we saw thick dark oil issuing from theground in a sort of bog, from which a thin stream of oil oozeddown the hill. One can conceive how common is the product whenone observes that no one took the trouble to place a tinreceptacle which could catch it. The system of leasing is thatthe landowner lets the oil producers have the use of the land oncondition that they pay him one-quarter of the gross results. Ourfriend, Mr. Carey, was selling some land in this way andgenerously promised that a proportion of his profits, if oilresults, should be devoted to the Spiritual cause, I being histrustee in the matter. I pointed out that the officialSpiritualist organization of America would be better able tohandle it, but he assured me that the gift was personal. Whetherthis comes to anything or not, the generous intention is thesame, and it might possibly develop into a fund which would be ofgreat service to a movement so starved for money as ours. Withina year or so we should know exactly how this matter develops, butit is, of course, a lottery. Meanwhile, it has made this Venturaexcursion a notable episode for me, for I am weighed downsometimes by the number of individuals and institutions whourgently need sustaining. All our workers are wretchedly paid,and many who have worked and can do so no longer are in direneed, while our churches are a disgrace to the richer members ofour community.

Apart from the oil incident, our long day's trip was a verywonderful experience, and the children, whilst we wereinvestigating wells, thought they had actually got a rattlesnake.The two boys pursued it into some long grass and were stillhunting for it when we returned. It was, they had discovered, nota rattler, but a small mottled snake, which they declared washarmless. I was glad when the creature got away, for the boys arevery fearless and would have seized it in their hands, while wewere by no means convinced that it was so innocent.

The drive back was long, but the beauty of it all will everhaunt us: the masses of purple Bourgainvillea over the prettywayside houses, the groups of eucalyptus, which took both oursight and our nostrils back to Australia, the long lines of thepepper trees like weeping willows, showering their long greentresses to the very ground upon either side of the smooth blackroad, the dense banks of roses, the geraniums grown into shrubsas large as rhododendrons, all the beauties of subtropicalvegetation. How I wished that I had the brain of a Russel Wallaceand could read more clearly the illuminated page of Nature. Sincewe drove from Colombo to Candy we have not seen such apanorama.

The sequel of the day was a good example of the pressure onour lives. When we arrived after our 150-miles road journey atour hotel, we found that the Sunday paper had contained adamaging but entirely untrue attack upon the photographs by a Dr.Reynolds, who seemed to be an example of what Mr. de Brath hascalled "the obsession of fraud." It was necessary to answer thisat once, which was not difficult, but took some time andattention, for one cannot afford to make mistakes oneself,however wild the statements of our adversaries may be. The answerwas half written when we found that it was time to keep anappointment at the Spiritualist Church, where we had promised toattend a service and to speak. Without our evening meal we spranginto a cab and reached the place, where two hours were occupiedin a long service, which, like nearly all Spiritual Churchservices, was in great need of being reorganized andstandardized. It ended by an attempt at a psychic photographwhich resulted in complete failure. After ten, still unfed, wereached our hotel again, and found a pressman waiting in the hallfor my answer to Dr. Reynolds. I darted upstairs, finished myreply, handed it in after eleven, and so assured that it shouldappear next day—which is very necessary when a falsestatement has to be corrected. Finally, we gave our dinner up ashopeless and postponed it till breakfast.

The last lecture in Los Angeles was a triumph. It began in acurious way. The property man had placed a heavy reading-deskwith electric fittings, a table, and a chair in the centre infront of the screen, not realizing that the pictures were goingto be thrown on at once. They obscured the view of the audienceand the man had disappeared. Therefore, after looking round forhim in vain, I set to work and shifted them all myself,disconnecting the electric lead and replacing it in a new socket,to the great amusem*nt of my huge audience, who roared withlaughter when, after it was all done, the astonished head of theproperty man appeared round the wings. It was clear that I hadpopular sympathy in the attack made upon me, for there wasgeneral cheering when I refuted the statements made. What wasmost pleasant of all, the new friends whom we had made, Mr.Carey, Dr. and Mrs. Wickland, Mrs. Finlay, and others, crowdedround us to bid us farewell. Never shall we forget LosAngeles.

There was some pleasing evidence also that Los Angeles wouldnot forget us, and at the risk of seeming to throw bouquets atourselves I must quote the opening of the very first letter whichwe received from Dr. Austin, one of the most intellectual of hercitizens. "You made a most profound impression," said he."Already the people are asking when you will come again. LosAngeles fell in love with Lady Doyle. Please remember that theprayers of many thousands here will follow you in your work andthat every Spiritualist feels personally indebted to you."Equally pleasing was another letter which reached us by the samepost from Mr. Carey, whose kind intentions I have described. Ihad recommended him to Mrs. Wagner, for evidence. "One of thegreatest events of my life was experienced this morning at ameeting with Mrs. Wagner. While sitting quietly with her the deepbass voice of her control filled the room. I afterwards heardbeyond doubt the voice of my mother and of my grandfather, JohnCarey, who says that he has been guiding me for years. Theymentioned things that I know no one on earth-life could befamiliar with."

So ended our Los Angeles visit. l cannot forecast the fate ofthis town, for there seems no limit to its possible expansion. Atpresent its wonderful residential qualities are said to have beenespecially found out by the farmers of Iowa, and quite anappreciable proportion of the population is said to be from thatsingle State. As other States make the same discovery, LosAngeles will become ever greater, until perhaps town and portbecome one. The administration seems to be clean, though onepaper, which suggested that I should visit the jail, declaredthat I had best put a clothes-peg on my nose. From this I fearthat the blot which disfigures so many American cities is notabsent from this one. I trust that I am mistaken.

One other curious incident occurred at the last moment. A Dr.Perrin, whom I had never seen before, called at my hotel. He wasan elderly gentleman, a veteran of the Civil War and a friend ofGeneral Lee. He asked me if it were true that I made no personalgain from my religious work. I assured him that it was. He saidthat in that case he desired to present me, as a token of hisesteem, with 100 acres of good land upon his estate near Phoenixin Arizona. I need not say that I gratefully accepted. So that ishow I became an American landowner, though whether at my age Ishall ever see my estate is very problematical.

VIII. — SAN FRANCISCO

Literary Associations—ASeeress—Tamalpais—WonderfulPanorama—Californian Professors—The StanfordBequest—Prediction of Catastrophe—SuccessfulLectures—Opposition—An Interesting Mystic—Dr.Abrams—Giant Remains—A Venerable Chairman

The journey from Los Angeles to San Francisco is about as faras from London to Dundee, and includes a climb over aconsiderable range of hills, so it took us from eight in themorning till nearly eleven at night. I retain a panoramic view ofthe long journey, as seen between snatches of sleep—ahundred miles of barren hills with oil-derricks dotted over them,a hundred miles of wonderful ocean breaking into spray just underthe train, the great loops which carried us over the Santa LuciaMountains, the famous Lick Observatory, the beautiful fruitdistrict, and then finally salt water on both sides of the trainas we drew up to the City of the Golden Gate. If I come to bebedridden I shall always have memory pictures on which to ponder.We were all very weary when we arrived at eleven at night, butnone the less the relentless Press-gang was there. It was verylate before we were safe in our rooms of the famous CliftHotel.

It was wonderful for me to wake in San Francisco. It hasalways been one of my dream-cities, for it has the glamour ofliterature, without which matter is a dead thing. It was herethat Bret Harte's heroes swaggered and drank and gambled andpistolled each other in the early gold-days. Jack Oakhurst'sgambling saloon was in one of these streets, and ColonelStarbottle, one of the creations of American literature, posedupon those sidewalks. Here, too, one comes within touch ofanother of the Immortals. Here was the bay down which Jack Londonworked in an oyster-pirate—most envied of all boys. Here,too, was the Golden Gate, the opening of many a sea-story, withthe Farallones on the far skyline. There it was that the master-pirate in Jack London's narrative went down with his schooner,and there also Frank Norris steered his bark in his splendidShanghaied. Was it not from here also that Stevenson set sail inThe Wrecker? The glamour of Romance is all over the waterfrontand the bay.

The Press of San Francisco is very numerous, veryenterprising, and very intelligent. Never since I left New Yorkhad I been subjected to such a cross-fire of questions, and my head was dazed and inclined to ache before I had finished withthem. However, it is all excellent propaganda, and there is noother possible way in which I could broadcast my knowledge moreeffectively. All were very cordial and anxious to reproduce myviews correctly. "There is no doubting the sincerity of the man,"said the Bulletin. "There is no question as to hisbelieving that which he is teaching is truth. With him it is noquestion of belief—it is knowledge." "He is clear inthought, normal in habit, direct and forcible in expression."There was much which was too flattering for reproduction, but itall indicates the desire to be hospitable and fair in thereproduction of my views. There was no jarring note in the firstcomments, and if I did not carry my message to the public it wascertainly no fault of these interviewers.

When I was at last clear I found two occult teachers, Dr. andMrs. Homer Curtiss, who were waiting with their motor to give usour first glimpse of the town. Mrs. Curtiss is a true psychicwith very sensitive and direct impressions, while her husband isa man of intellect who turns her teaching into literary form andgives it to the world both by books and by lectures. The Voiceof Isis and The Realms of the Living Dead are amongtheir many works. So far as I could place them among the mysticthinkers, they are Theosophists who are in rebellion againstcertain recent theosophical developments. I think every latitudeshould be given to every possible branch of thought which growsupwards from the great spiritual trunk, but it seemed to me thatthe lady was simply an inspirational Spiritualistic medium of ahigh type, and that all her teaching, which is most remarkable,comes into the same class of literature as Vale Owen's LifeBeyond the Veil, or Stainton Moses's Spirit Teachings.However, so long as we are all working to the downfall ofmaterialism, what does it matter what name we go under? My onlyregret is, however, that so long as our more gifted teachersremain independent, the Spiritual Churches are left in the handsof those who are often little fitted to guide them.

Some of the examples of Mrs. Curtiss's powers were mostextraordinary, and there was one which remains particularly in mymind. She was returning with her husband from a voyage down theWashington coast when they passed a place which was notorious forwrecks. Mrs. Curtiss at four in the morning found her whole cabinfilled with the spirits of people who were earthbound, or rather,one would say, water-bound, having perished there and neverhaving been able to raise themselves higher for want ofinstruction or spirituality. One of these poor creaturespresented a vision before her eyes of the manner of her drowning.She had been shut in her cabin by the jamming of the door, andnever did Mrs. Curtiss see such a picture of horror as thephantom, a young woman, dashed herself screaming against thewoodwork. At the same time Mrs. Curtiss heard a voice crying,"Tell them how I died. Tell them how Lizzie died." Mrs. Curtissand the doctor recorded this and other experiences at the time,including, by the way, the fact that two old-time buccaneers orpirates were among their ghostly visitants. There was a sequel tothe story. Some time later, after one of their lectures, thedoctor and his wife found themselves waiting amid a group ofpeople for a tram-car. Suddenly she heard the same voice, "Tellthem how I died." She at once narrated the circ*mstance, on whichsome woman in the group cried, "Why, that must be Aunt Lizzie.She went to Alaska and we never knew what became of her."

There seems no loophole for chance or for telepathy in thisstory, but what is rem is the power of foresight possessed by thespirit that Mrs. Curtiss would come into contact with her people,unless indeed it was the other way round, and she brought herpeople to meet those who had been given her message.

It is a nice question whether San Francisco does not standfirst in natural beauty of all cities in the world. I speak ofnatural advantages only and not of historical glamour, whichwould make many European cities pre-eminent. But taking Naturealone, here is a harbour which is second only to that of Sydney;here is beautiful hill-scenery in the very city itself; andfinally there is Tamalpais, the one and only Tamalpais, whichshould be ascended by the traveller if he has only a single clearday in the city of the Golden Gate. Our whole party went up it onthe day after our arrival, and we were agreed that in all ourwanderings we had never had a more glorious experience.

You cross the harbour in a ferry, the trip taking you twentyminutes, and find yourself in a small town calledSausalito—there is a welcome dignity in these Spanishnames. There the railroad begins, and after a short journey youchange into a mountain-train and begin your ascent. The line iscurved so skilfully that at no place is the rise more than one inseven, and no cogs are needed. It would charm abotanist—would that I were one!—to note how you startfrom subtropical palms and cacti and yuccas, mounting up throughthe various flora, the tanbark oaks, the bay trees with theirdelicious scents, the eucalypti of various orders, and themaples, until you emerge into rhododendrons and firs and heathsand ferns with wild lupin and kingcups, and much to remind us ofthe dear uplands of Sussex. One is faced here with the eternalproblem as to how on earth this high altitude vegetation ever gotthere, whether blown by the winds or brought by the birds, orhow. In isolated mountains in the heart of Africa you will find,as I understand, all our upland English shrubs and flowers. It isone more mystery of Nature.

Finally, after an hour of slow clanking progress we were atthe inn on the top of the mountain, 2,600 feet above the Bay,which lay in its glory, with many convolutions and gulfs andextensions, more like some motionless model of the world than theworld itself. There were wonderful gradations of colour there,the deep blue of the sea, the olive-green of the dried-up plainsand foothills, the deep green of the fir groves on themountainside, and the drabs and yellows of the sands. Sevencounties were visible, and a mountain a hundred miles away stoodup as a white cone upon a clear day. The great city lay below uson its promontory, and we saw Oakland across the bay, and all theoutlying towns in which the business men have their homes. It wasa truly majestic sight, the powers of Nature and of man, eachadmirable in its own domain.

We walked round the crest of the mountain, and then descendedin a car which ran by its own gravity, a delightful mode ofprogression when it continues for nearly an hour. The end of thiswonderful toboggan course was the Muir Woods, where in a cleft ofthe hill the great Sequoias lie. All words are futile to describethe tremendous majesty of the great redwoods, and mere figuressuch as 300 feet as their height, or the fact that a hollow trunkcan contain thirty-six people, leaves the imagination cold. Onehas to be alone or with some single very intimate companion toget the true impression, the deep silence of the grove, theshadowy religious light, the tremendous majesty of the redcolumns, the vistas between them, the solemn subconscious effectproduced by their two thousand years of age. There are no insectsin their bark, and nothing, not even fire, can destroy them. Wesaw scars of old brush fires upon their flanks, and noted thatconsiderable oaks near by had no such scar, which gave an idea ofhow many years had elapsed since that mark was branded on them.We wandered for two hours along the borders of the clear trout-stream which runs through the Redwood Grove.

The whole mountain has been most reverently and excellentlydeveloped by a private company, the representative of which, Mr.Whitmore, acted as our guide. It could not have been better done,for it has been made accessible and yet tenderly guarded from allvulgarity. One is not allowed to pick a flower in the RedwoodGrove. The latter place has been taken over by the Government,and one feels that it should all be national property. The onlyplace which I can recall resembling Tamalpais is the famousTibidabo Hill above Barcelona; but the Californian effect is on afar grander scale.

San Francisco seems very alive and very sensitive, for theintellectual effect of our arrival, which was only fully visibleupon the third day, reminded me of an ants' nest stirred up witha stick. Every one of the papers, and they were many, was filledwith every kind of challenge, argument, denunciation, andprotest, with an occasional little whisper of agreement. Thedefence had to be conducted by myself, with very effective aidfrom my wife, who gave some admirable interviews dealing with thematter from the feminine side. Public opinion, especially themore educated public opinion, seemed reactionary and ill-informed. I have not usually troubled the reader with the eternalcontroversies which strewed our path, but for once I will give anattack and a reply, as they contain in a narrow space theessentials of the matter. The opinions were those of some of theintellectuals of the City.

Dr. Ray Lyman Wilbur: There is no scientific basis forSir Arthur Conan Doyle's claims to spirit-communication. Nobodyhas ever seen a ghost. Nothing has ever been checked up byscience to prove the spiritistic hypothesis.

Sir Oliver Lodge was an eminent physicist, but as men growolder, and the death of some dear one comes into their lives,their scientific sense changes into a more emotional state.

When the discovery of radium, or the X-ray, or any suchnatural phenomenon is made, some scientist with the rightapparatus can easily demonstrate it to his fellows. But whenSpiritualists undertake to prove their claim, it must always bethrough some mediums operating under conditions they, themselves,control. If Spiritualism is fundamentally true, why isn't it asdemonstrable as the other discoveries?

There is .a standing offer of $5,000 from the ScientificAmerican to anyone proving that spints can communicate withmortals. It hasn't been won by anyone, and it won't.

Prof C. J. West, Stanford University: I'm a decidedsceptic. I don't see anything in this prediction. I'll take mychances with the world-catastrophe.

Chester Rowell, U.C. Regent: I don't know anythingabout it, and I suspect that Sir Arthur knows about as much as Ido. My attitude toward spirit-communication is one of completescepticism. I wouldn't say it is impossible; but when I seeanyone on the stage demonstrating it I'm inclined to doubt,particularly if he does it exceedingly well.

Sir Oliver Lodge and others claim to have evidence whichsatisfies them, but the evidence is so vague that I am alwaysvery sceptical.

Prof. Geo. Adams, Professor of Philosophy at U.C.: It'sall bunk. I haven't the slightest interest or faith in it. It ismy personal belief, which is worth as much as you care to giveit, that it is imagination, that's all.

Father Ricard, Santa Clara University: I have no faithin Spiritism. No court in the world would give them a verdict.The evidence is deceitful, because they always conceal theiridentity. We have positive evidence that they even lie, for theydeny the truth set down by the Church. Poor Sir Arthur is beingmade a blind victim, a dupe.

Dr. J. E. Coover, Head of Department of PsychicResearch, Stanford University: Conan Doyle's theories are notwithin the realm of science; they hinge on religion. The greatbody of evidence offered by Spiritualists cannot be accepted byscience. Spiritualistic studies are so often taken up by thoseseeking comfort and solace through communication with friends andrelatives who have died.

There are so many causes that can bring about abnormalpsychological conditions and supernormal phenomena. Psychologicalcases, pathological conditions, and often so-calledmanifestations and communications come about throughhypnotism.

The further I investigate the more I believe that it is these"other" causes that bring about spiritualistic phenomena.Scientifically, such manifestations are impossible, Ibelieve.

But it's a personal matter. One cannot make statements aboutSpiritualists in general. But I can only say that spiritualisticevidence in general so far has not proved acceptable toscience.

Spirit-photography is a most unsavoury chapter inspiritualistic studies. Because so much fraud has been exhibitedin this way.

Being a scientist, I cannot judge Conan Doyle's theories fromhis standpoint. I am a great admirer of Sir Doyle as a man ofletters; as a scientist I cannot accept him.

Prof. Warner Brown, Instructor in Psychology,University of California: There's no scientific proof of ConanDoyle's spiritualistic theories. His so-called spirit-photographsdon't prove anything, because he can't show how they were taken.Cameras, everyone knows, can produce any manner of freakeffects.

Spiritualists are apt to be influenced by affection, emotion,grief over the dead one with whom they are trying tocommunicate.

To this I answered as follows:

"I should like to say a word to each of my adversaries.

"Dr. Wilbur declares that there is no scientific basis for mybeliefs. Well, he has a right to his opinion.

"On the other hand, Hare, Crookes, Lombroso, Morselli,Zöllner, Lodge, Chas. Richet, and many other men of the firsteminence in science disagree with him. They have all writtenbooks on the subject and conducted long investigations. Has Dr.Lyman Wilbur done so? If not, is it not unscientific to pronouncea strong opinion without investigation in the teeth of so manyeminent men who have investigated?

"Professor West will take his chances of any purifyingcatastrophe. So will we all. But surely he cannot deny the factof the world-war, or that it was caused by material rather thanspiritual values prevailing in the world. If once, why notagain?

"Chester Rowell says he knows nothing about it—andimputes the same to me. Well, if I don't, it is not for want ofthirty-six years of study and experiment. What is there vaguewhen I say that I have seen, in the presence of witnesses, mymother within three feet of me, after her death. I should nothave thought our assertions were vague.

"Professor Adams declares that it is all bunk. Has he readSchrenck-Notzing's book on materializations with its 200photographs? Has he read Professor Crawford's three books on thephysical manifestations at Belfast? Has he read the Traité surMetapsychique, by Chas. Richet, Professor of Physiology atParis University? Is it sensible or dignified to call theconclusions of such men 'bunk'?

"Is not this sort of mental arrogance and intolerance the kindof thing which every new advance of knowledge has had toface?

"Father Ricard looks upon me as a blind dupe. Harsh criticsuse the same words to the members of his own faith. But mereexchange of compliments of this sort cannot advance us.

"As a fact, Catholicism is founded entirely upon Spiritualism,with saints as mediums and phenomena as miracles. No one can readthe pre-Nicene fathers of the Church without understanding this,as I could demonstrate by many quotations.

"Dr. Coover cannot accept me as a scientist and I fear that Icannot accept him as a psychic scientist.

"He belongs to the school that is always proving negatives andare never capable of attaining what is positive. Seventy yearsago men of this type were engaged in disproving mesmerism. Thenevery child who went to a village entertainment saw thatmesmerism was a fact, so it was accepted, but the name waschanged to hypnotism. Now, Dr. Coover invokes that to explainsuch phenomena as Sir Wm. Crookes's two years' experience with amaterialized spirit, or Geley's casts taken from the materializedhand of an ectoplasmic figure. Is Dr. Coover aware that withinthe last few months one hundred scientific men, including twenty-three professors of great universities, have admitted thatectoplasm has been clearly shown them at Munich? What has this todo with hypnotism?

"I do not wish to be offensive in any way to Dr. Coover, but Icannot refrain from expressing the disappointment which is feltby thousands of psychic students throughout the world at the factthat the endowment in the Stanford University has not been usedin a more active way for the exploration of real psychicknowledge.

"We feel that it is in reactionary hands, and that SanFrancisco might equal Munich or Paris in psychic study if themoney were used to better advantage.

"Dr. Warner Brown comments upon my psychic photographs. If hehad seen them, his opinion would be more valuable."

One's nerves get a little frayed with the constant travel andcontention, and it is, I fear, noticeable in some increase inasperity in my arguments; but I think that in the past theseignorant gentlemen who lay down the law about a subject of whichthey know nothing in so offensive and absurd a way have beentreated too kindly. They deserve to be shown up as the dolts thatthey are in psychic matters, however deserved their reputationmay be in other branches of science.

It will be observed that one of my critics talks of animpending catastrophe to which I had alluded.[*]

[* These remarks were just four months before the most disastrous earthquake of all time.]

This also may be a sign that I need rest, for I had notIntended to speak of this, and yet in talking to the Press I hadallowed myself to be Carried away farther than I should havegone. However, since the mischief, if any, is done, I can nowcomment upon it. If I have avoided the subject, it is because Ihave wished to discard sensationalism and emotion from mymessage, and to appeal to reason and evidence for its acceptance.So many fanatical sects have at various times prophesied the endof the world that one shrinks from such company. And yet it is afact which we cannot get away from that we have had persistentmessages in our home circle, which has never yet deceived us, tothe effect that just as polluted air can only be cleared by atempest, so the dense materialism of this world can only bespiritualized by some tremendous convulsion which will shockmankind into sober thought as to his life here and what is itspurpose. The war is represented as having been the first move inthis direction, but up to now, so far as we can see, it has nothad any very marked effect. Some even think that the world isworse rather than better, though personally I do not agree. Thereare many bruised hearts, and the bruised heart begets thespiritual soul. But much has still to be done, and the greatpresiding powers will not leave a task incomplete.

Therefore we are told that something more serious is coming,unless it is alleviated by sudden spiritual repentance. Nothingcan exceed the solemnity of the warnings received or the terrorof the catastrophe predicted, which will partly lie in human andpartly in natural convulsions, with some psychic accompanimentwhich will bring the two worlds closer and more visible to eachother than has ever been the case before. "Worse than Atlantis"is the expression used. Then the survivors of the race willunderstand that the pleasure of the body and the acquisition ofwealth are not the ends of life, and that any system built uponsuch material ideas must be remodelled from its very foundations.Such is the message, and since we received it we have had itechoed back to us in a most singular way from independentrecipients, one from London, one from Paris, one here inCalifornia. After all, it is but the message of the Revelationput into modern form, if we may take it that a great Armageddonwar, a hideous catastrophe, and a millennium of the race were thethree outstanding points in St. John's vague vision.

On closer acquaintance I have found San Francisco far lesspsychic than Los Angeles, the relation of the two places inmatters of spirit being rather like those between the materialMelbourne and the more sensitive Sydney. San Francisco, of allplaces, should know what possible horrors lie around us, fortheir fire and earthquake in 1906 seem to have been the limit. Itbrought out fine virtues of courage and energy, for a grandercity rose upon the ashes of the first one.

We extended our psychic experience by a sitting with Dr. andMrs. Curtiss. They have in their cosy little house what I imaginethat every house will have in time—a room devoted entirelyto psychic purposes. We saw a similar one at Los Angeles. It wasa privilege to enter so pure an atmosphere, and the resultsobtained through the normal voice-mediumship of Mrs. Curtiss werevery inspiring. We had an address which was very beautiful andthoughtful, followed by some spiritual messages, given in replyto questions which were in no case evidential, but were alwayslofty and intellectual.

Mrs. Curtiss's psychic powers take very practical forms uponoccasion. Only three years ago she was motoring with her husbandthrough Mississippi, and had come to a small townlet namedDemopolis, where they halted for lunch. The accommodation in theinn was very bad, but the lady announced that she would go nofarther. She could not tell why, but the impulse to remain wasirresistible. It ended in their staying. Next morning when theyopened their paper they found that there had been a terrifictornado between Demopolis and their destination, which wasMeridian. The road had been swept clear, and great trees twistedon their roots showed what the fate of their little motor wouldhave been. Many lives had been lost, and there is no doubt thattheirs might have been among them but for the psychicprevision.

There had been so fierce a discussion in the papers that thereseemed every prospect of some opposition at my first SanFrancisco meeting. The authorities evidently thought so also, asquite a strong force of police were in waiting. The circ*mstanceswere depressing—a huge, barn-like hall, which had been thescene of a boxing-match the night before, a bare platform, and acold atmosphere. However, there were stronger forces at my back,and we triumphed. It was a very great success, and the audiencesoon thawed and finally became quite enthusiastic. When I hadfinished, they thronged the platform, and it was no easy matterfor our party—for the boys and their mother were on theplatform—to get through. I quite expected that the wholefrail structure would collapse. Dr. Curtiss and his wife camewith us on to the platform and he made an admirable chairman. Onepleasing incident was that Dr. Marion Thrasher, a well-knownlocal thinker and writer, announced his complete conversion. Heshould be a valuable ally, for he has an excellent brain and pen."Since our Saviour has been on earth there has been no message soimportant as this," writes Dr. Thrasher. That is true; but I wishI were a more capable messenger.

The second lecture, half photography and half philosophy, wasnot as well attended as we hoped for. The hall is not verycentral, which is against us, and the ignorant and abusiveattitude of some of the correspondents in the papers, has nothelped us. I am the more sorry as our affairs have been admirablyhandled by Mr. Paul Elder, whose book-shop is the centre ofintellectual light in the city. I hope that it will become thecentre of spiritual light also, for it is sadly needed in thepervading darkness. Save for Cole's Arcade in Sydney, I cannotrecall any more helpful literary atmosphere. Though the numbershave been disappointing, we have been delighted by the individualconverts and testimony which have come to us. In reference to mystatement that the dying see their loved ones waiting for them,one experienced nurse wrote: "I have often witnessed the lastmoments of the dying, and can corroborate your statement thatthey do see the spirits of their loved ones. Truly our belief inthe world beyond is the greatest comfort to those of us who liveso much in the shadows, and your message to the world is as oneof God's messengers." Such words from a real worker make up formany ironies and misrepresentations in the Press.

One of the few signs of psychic life, apart from the Curtissfamily, which I observed in San Francisco was in the case of oneWallace, who lives, however, in the back country amid Nature,where the conditions are more favourable. He came in to see me, atall, thin, handsome man with the face of an ascetic poet andwith a large black bag in his hand, which surely contained themost remarkable material of any bag upon this planet. It took methe best part of a day to analyse it. Mr. Wallace appears to bean inspirational sensitive, and as such he receives messageswhich purport to be from dwellers not merely in our own familiarspirit-spheres, but from other planets and even from the planetsof Aldeboran and other stars. The inspirations come in shortsentences which are written in extraordinary and often veryornamental writing, sometimes running from right to left. Theseare signed with strange names, the names of the planet attached.Often, however, the messages are from our own spheres, and havethe signatures in facsimile, and even the portraits of thesenders, attached. Mr. Willson, a friend of Mr. Wallace's,assures me that certain historical names, dates, etc., have beenproved correct, though Mr. Wallace had no conscious knowledge ofthem. I did not, however, have this important point, which is theonly gleam of actual evidence, from Mr. Wallace's own lips.

Some of the messages show wit and brainpower in a high degree.I copied a few as samples.

"Every immortal truth sits in judgment upon you at the precisemoment when you pompously assume to judge it."

"Death is the entrance to a more conscious life."

"At death the cage is buried, but the bird is free and singsabove the grave."

"The brain-bound Materialist is subnormal."

"When a new good thought is uttered, all hell roars itsdisapproval." This last made me think of some correspondents inthe San Francisco Press.

But what are we, as psychic students and fearless followers oftruth, to make of such a case as this? That Mr. Wallace isabsolutely honest is beyond all question. He has taken enormouspains and devoted his life, at great loss to himself, to thiswork. What, then, are the alternatives? The first is that thisall comes from his own subconscious self. I am not prepared todeny this possibility, but it only removes the problem one stageback, since we should then have to ask what put it into hissubconscious self. The second is that he has a very active andintelligent control upon the other side who uses these namesfreely in order to give weight to his own messages. This also Iam not prepared to put lightly aside, for I greatly suspectcontrols of simulation and personation. Finally, there is thepossibility that the explanation given is the real one. My daysof faith are done, however, and I do not see how this can beproved. Anyhow, I have not the faintest doubt of Mr. Wallace'shonesty nor of the rare power, beauty, and depth of his messages,which are sufficient to fill several large books.

One interesting fact is that Alfred Russel Wallace professesto be one of his inspirers, and had mentioned my name to him asone to whom he should go. Now as Alfred Russel Wallace is said tobe continually with me (vide my Australian experiences), and asMr. Wallace did not know this, we do get some little suggestioneither of proof or of remarkable coincidence.

Our visit to San Francisco with its very material atmospherehad left a sad impression upon our minds—and I can well say"our," for the whole of our party were conscious of the samestrong psychic reaction. It was only on the last day that a gleamcame through the clouds which brought great peace and joy into mysoul, for it seemed to me that I saw better things ahead, andsome hope that this dark place of the earth might in truth becomethe mother of future light. It is hardly fair to blame Americafor the state of San Francisco, for its population iscosmopolitan and its seaport attracts the floating vice of thePacific; but be the cause what it may, there is much room forspiritual betterment.

The incident which brought me consolation was a visit to Dr.Abrams, whose name is well known as a pioneer along strange pathsin science, as has been vouched for by Sir James Barr and otherEuropean authorities. Abrams is a genius. One recognizes theinscrutable signs, so subtle and yet so sure. He is a man aboutsixty, clean-shaven, heavily spectacled, a constant cigarettesmoker, quick in movement, volcanic and tempestuous when angered,but self-contained and contemplative by nature. He exhibited tome some of his wonderful discoveries, which have ended in hisforming a school of medicine entirely his own, which will soon,as I understand, establish branches in every country. I was muchimpressed by what he showed me, not in mere explanations orarguments, but in objective experiments. I am such an ignoramusin electricity that I fear to make an attempt to convey the ideasto the reader, but I will try to give the conclusions of thisremarkable brain, so far as I followed them.

The particular thing which he was showing to me was thevibration of disease which varies with cancer, syphilis, orwhatever it may be, and can be recorded on an instrument like awireless receiver. This form of receiver is called a radioheterodyne, and consists, so far as I could see, of two receiversacting together, which would be soundless so long as they did acttogether, but would give a buzz the moment that the vibrationsaffecting them were not the same. That is roughly the idea,though technically, of course, much has to be added to make itcomplete. Now as to the working of it, which I saw with my owneyes. You take a little bit of cancer in a bottle. You approachit to the loose antenna hanging from the radio receiver. When itgets a few inches off, you hear a loud buzz, like an angryhornet. Keep it there. The buzz will be repeated every fourseconds. That is cancer.

Suppose you take a bit of syphilitic tumour. Approach it tothe antenna. There comes a buzz every thirty seconds. That issyphilis.

Pass the antenna over the clothes of a man in whose pocket isconcealed a morsel of cancer. The machine will buzz when it comesover the place. Thus you diagnose both the seat and the nature ofthe disease with one action. If I had not seen it, I could hardlyhave given it belief. The buzz can be turned into a roar by amegaphone. A bellow in the air coming every four seconds may bethe death-warrant of the cancer victim.

The vibrations of life and of death are different. Thus youhold a living plant to the antenna of the machine. There is nosound. The vibrations are harmonious. Now tear it in two. Thereis a scream from the instrument. It is the death-cry of theplant. The mind is stunned as it tries to grasp all that may bereached along such a line of thought.

But here is the climax. We have in our home circle andelsewhere been assured for some time that a visible proof wascoming which the whole world must accept as to the truth which wehave been preaching about the nature of death. Dr. Abrams claimsthat my arrival in San Francisco turned his attention to thepossibility of furnishing such a proof. Fie was a week ago amaterialist with no belief in future life. Now he is with me inmy opinion. It is his own research along his own line, showingvibrations of life and death, which has converted him. I will notanticipate his results. He will no doubt give them to the world.But surely my visit to San Francisco has been most gloriouslyjustified if it has ended in 12 converting one of the mostprogressive minds in America, and starting him upon anindependent line of demonstration. Dr. Abrams came to myphotographic lecture in the evening, where I was able to give himfurther assurance that I had not been a blind guide.

I cannot give all the new lights which Dr. Abrams threw uponscience by what he has called "electronic" methods, but there wasone experiment which impressed me much. When he had removed thecancer bottle, he again placed the wire at the spot where thebottle had been, and lo! there came the four-second responses asbefore. This seemed to me most suggestive. Clearly the cancerbottle had left something behind it, and that something was, inmy opinion, its own etheric double which still sent out ethericvibrations and so affected the receiver. But this exactlycorresponds with the theory which I ventured to put forward in amagazine article that the ether is a permanent, immovable thing,and that it takes the impress of what occurs, so that a spotwhere violent emotion has been aroused may have a lastingimpression, which can be perceived by a sensitive for centuriesafter. Dr. Abrams's cure is a horseshoe magnet which he usesexactly as a maid would use a broom, sweeping away and breakingup etheric images and clearing the field for fresh. ones. Thepsychic atmosphere of a haunted house might perhaps be amenableto this magnetic vacuum cleaner.

A New York engineer assured a friend, with what truth I knownot, that he had examined one of Abrams's instruments, and thatit was quite heterodox from an electrical point of view, loosewires, etc. "But the darned thing worked," he added, "and that,after all, is everything."

It was a day of great sensations, for on my return from Dr.Abrams with my brain fermenting with all I had seen, I found aMr. Hubbard waiting for me at the Clift Hotel with a narrative aswonderful as that of Abrams, but in a very different line ofthought. This gentleman, a solid, middle-aged man, had beenexploring the depths of the Colorado Canyon. There is a side canyonwhich runs into the other at an angle. It is sunk 1,000 feetdeep, but the Colorado River, once on that level, is now 3,000feet deeper, cutting its way through silurian deposits to thegranite bed-rock of the world. Therefore this gorge is a very oldone geologically, and it is at a point where the limestone joinson to the old red sandstone. Here Hubbard explored with a localguide named Hull. In some inaccessible corner he claims that hediscovered a petrified body, not less than eleven feet long. Hulldeclared that he had found another one eighteen feet long, but ithad been buried afterwards in a landslide. Hubbard declaresfurther that he got clear human footmarks which were nineteeninches long and nine inches across, mixed with those of somelarge animal which he thought was an elephant. He also found rudedrawings upon the cave walls, one of an elephant and another ofwhat certainly resembles an iguanodon, or other early monster. Hephotographed the latter and gave me a copy. Of Hubbard's honestyI have not the faintest doubt, and yet it is hard to accept suchconclusions. Time, of course, will settle it, but, if proved, itbids fair to change our views both anthropological andzoological.

Mr. Hubbard tells me that in Bancroft's fifth volume of hisHistory of the Pacific States there is a long account of anIndian tradition about a people called the Quinanes, who weregiants, and that these people, on account of their size andstrength and ferocity, terrorized and ill-used the people whowere the predecessors of the Aztecs. These huge people weredrunkards, and on some occasion a conspiracy was set on foot bywhich all their leaders were made drunk at a banquet and in thisway were murdered. If Mr. Hubbard makes good his case for the bigmen in the canyon, it may prove to have been some branch of theseQuinanes, who left this legend behind them.

Both my lecture at Oakland across the bay on my second lastnight and my last photographic lecture at San Francisco were verysuccessful. At the former, the chair was taken by Dr. Van DerNaillen, an old gentleman of Belgian origin, who was ninety-sixyears of age, a good advertisem*nt of the life-preservingproperties of Californian air, which seems to extend from theRedwood to the human. Van Der Naillen was mentioned by Wallace inhis account of his travels in America in 1886, where he commendedhis book on Himalayan botany. The dear old fellow proceeded afterthe lecture, to my mingled pleasure and horror, to give me whathe called an accolade or embrace before the whole audience. Itwas a new performance to me, and proved that I was not so old orhardened that I had got beyond blushing.

I am glad I went to San Francisco, if only for the sake ofmeeting the Curtiss group, Dr. Thrasher, and Dr. Abrams. Theadhesion of Abrams with his precise objective methods might marka crisis in the whole movement. It was midnight after my lastlecture when we crossed the bay in the ferry to get our Portlandtrain. Looking back we saw the league-long field of lights, thegreat twinkling sky-signs, all beating upwards against anoverhanging cloud. A burning house flared on the sea-front. Thewhole effect was sinister and terrible in the extreme. It is thelast that we shall ever see of San Francisco.

The Pacific Fleet was lying in the bay, and the town had fordays been crammed with the slender but wiry lads who man theships, with their smart blue uniforms and their hideous hats. Whyon earth does a rich Government impose such an absurd pork-pieheadgear upon their helpless servants? It cannot aid recruiting.The ships themselves seemed to be the last word in navalconstruction—a very formidable squadron. The sixteen-inchguns in the larger ships are mounted in threes, one turret behindthe other, so that there is a salvo of six. So placed they areless affected by the roll of the ship and more easily controlled;but, on the other hand, a single shell-burst might possiblyaffect the muzzles of the whole six great guns. I always rejoiceat any sign of American naval strength, for I am very sure that,in spite of all the racial traitors and the hyphenates, when itcame to the real pinch in a world-war, the English-speakers wouldbe together. There are many, however, who think that thebattleship has become a death-trap. Two aeroplane bombs of 2,000lb. apiece sank the Ost Friedland, a German ironclad uponwhich the Americans practised in times of peace. How can this beavoided in time of war? Tiny submerging ships may be the type ofthe future.

IX. — OREGON AND WASHINGTON

The Great White Lodge—General Drayson's AstronomicalViews—Rosicrucians—Mediumship of Mrs.Downes—Future of Portland—Dr. Littlefield'sInvestigations—The Lally Photographs—United States asa Neighbour—Future of the United States

Just as you change the palm to the eucalyptus in passing fromLos Angeles to San Francisco, so the eucalyptus in turn gives wayto the fir tree as one passes on to Portland. It was a longjourney, two nights and a day in the train, but the scenery madeamends, for it was very beautiful, with remarkable views of MountLassen, the only live volcano in the United States, and MountShasta, a beautiful snow-peak, which has streams of real soda-water, which one is permitted to sample as one passes. My peoplewent on straight to Seattle, but I had to lecture at Portland andTacoma, so I alighted at the former city, a very dishevelled man,on the morning of Friday, June 8th.

It is a fine city, strong and solid, with a strong, solidpopulation. One feels that one is getting into the North, withthe fir-tree characters as well as flora. I drove in the morningto the various points of vantage and had a good view of it all.The town sits on a river, and is one hundred miles from the sea,but fair-sized ships can get up and there is a great trade,chiefly in lumber. The psychic atmosphere seemed good, and thoughin the evening my audience was less than I am accustomed to, thetype seemed very high, and the papers were more unanimous insober, helpful, sympathetic criticism than in any place I canrecall.

At the station a small, bearded, elderly figure flitted up tome. "I have a message for you, but not from myself," said he. "Itis that you have the blessing of the Great White Lodge in yourendeavours." Then he flitted away. The last time I saw that manwas among the hills of Surrey, and I knew that he was a profoundoccult student. Verily there are some strange happenings upon thepath which I have chosen.

The American papers are very full of alleged change ofclimate, encroachments of ice, and general signs of a glacialepoch. The subject has come up again and again of late. I wonderthat among all the speculations and all the quotations from menof science, none seem to be aware of the work of the late GeneralDrayson, a pioneer of Spiritualism and a very capable astronomer.He was teacher of astronomy to the young sappers and gunners ofWoolwich. He was a clear and original thinker, and though hisviews never got the attention they deserved in his lifetime, theyare by no means dead, for several books and pamphlets haveappeared upon them lately—one by Admiral de Horsey, calledDraysoniana, and another by Major Marriott, of Exeter.

Drayson's view, roughly expressed, was that there had been amistake made as to the point round which the polar axis turns inthe heavens, and that it is as much as six degrees out. This hesupports with a wealth of argument which to me at least was veryconvincing, and he shows that if this be granted, we can at oncesolve quite a number of smaller astronomical difficulties.

It enables us to calculate the tilt of the earth at anyperiod, and on that tilt the glacial epochs depend. These epochsare periodical, and ice always cleans the slate of history. Thecold finger will one day erase all the ambitions and finally theexistence of our northern races. The interval, according to thesecalculations, between one glacial epoch and the next one isroughly 26,000 years. We are now almost half-way, so that it isabout 13,000 years from the last, and in 13,000 years we shall bedeep in another. But the process is slow, and we are now actuallyturning the corner, so that from this time onward, century bycentury, the change will be felt, though it probably will notbecome pressing in its effects for four or five thousand years.Such are the views of General Drayson, and only those who havestudied them with an open and attentive mind know how convincingthey appear.

I have spoken of the little bearded messenger of the WhiteLodge. He flitted into my vision once more at the hotel andbeckoned me in search of psychic adventure. I followed. On ourway I learned much of the Order of Rosicrucians, of its formerpower, of the rift which had come by the disclosure of secretknowledge, of its extinction by orders of the White Lodge, and ofits present survival in groups of individuals, rather than as anorganization. They were the secret psychic workers of the world,striving against dark forces, and aiding the coming dawn and thedevelopment of what they called the new Aquarian epoch in thesidereal year. The psychic epochs, I learned, were always knownby Zodiacal names, and this Aquarian one was that which was tosee the substitution of knowledge instead of faith, and also, asI gathered, the end of the competitive commercial era, and thebeginning of an age of equal opportunity for all men. I have longfelt myself that our psychic movement must inculcate somepractical betterment of humanity, greater equality in eachcountry, League of Nations for all, if it is to fulfil its fullmission. Were I sure that it could be done without suchconvulsions as would be worse than the disease, I should bewhole-hearted for radical changes. I was, therefore, good soilfor the little man to cultivate.

Presently, amid many mean streets, we entered a humbledwelling and found two female members of the secret cult, middle-aged, kind-eyed women. The little bearded man sat down, and sodid I. After a long desultory talk, the seeress, whom my friendhad introduced as being his own equal, and therefore very high inthe order, rose up and began to talk, conveying messages whichpurported to come from a great spirit who used her. His well-known earth-name was given me in confidence. The address, whichlasted quite half an hour, was solemn and impressive. There wasno attempt at evidence and no request for it from me. The mainthesis was that I was a teacher sent down specially for the workthat I was doing. That work was superficial, but all the morevaluable as people must first learn the psychic alphabet.Afterwards I would myself be conducted deeper into hermeticmysteries and would teach them. The Aquarian age was the age whenmysteries were to be revealed. Evil prevailed so much, and thepurpose of life had been so completely forgotten, that there wasimminent danger of a cataclysm, for when a thing was too bad tomend, it was destroyed. The social economic state of the earthwas as much in need of complete change as the psychic, and unlessthe big-brained people learned to use their God-given powers forthe people and not for amassing wealth for themselves, there wasa bad fate coming upon them, as well as upon those who opposedpsychic change. There was an air of menace in the messages andthey were spoken with authority. There was a prophecy spoken ofmy son Denis, and a blessing was given to me and my work, withthe information that there was a body called the Order of theWhite Star of Love upon the Astral spheres which was speciallydevoted to earthly medium-ship, and that if ever I invoked it, Ishould get help. It was a strange scene, and I could not helpthinking how far we romancers are behind the facts oflife—I, huddled in an arm-chair, the little bearded manstenographing at the table, a woman sitting with a face ofadoration, another standing and saying things which were not ofthis world, all in a plain American dwelling-room. I came away alittle bewildered, for indeed there was no evidence at all, and Iam not a credulous person, but I knew that little beardedman.

On the evening of my clear day in Portland I went to test alocal medium. Since I had spent my morning with the Rosicrucians,I think that my worst enemy must admit that I am active inpursuit of psychic knowledge. Mrs. M. T. Downes, the sensitive inquestion, lives at Oregon Town, but kindly travelled 150 milesthat day in order to meet me at the house of a Swedenborgiangentleman who was interested in Spiritualism, as everySwedenborgian should be, since his prophet was obviously anexcellent clairvoyant medium. There were five other peoplepresent. Mrs. Downes was of the familiar mediumistic type, verybuxom and motherly. She narrated with a good deal of humour how ahand-organ had floated around the room at one of her meetings. Atough character in the audience had pursued it and knocked hishead against it, so that when the light was turned on he wasfound lying bathed in blood with the organ on the top of him. "Hethought I was carryin' it," said the medium, "I being so builtfor skippin' aroun' in the dark."

She is a trumpet-medium of ordinary type, but of considerablepower. Within a few minutes of the light being turned down a malevoice was speaking loudly and the trumpet was floating in theair, touching each of us in turn, though we sat all round theroom at a distance from the medium, who talked incessantly. Therewas no trance. The presiding control was for a wonder not a RedIndian but a Dr. Wiseman, whose phraseology was limited to thatof the medium, which was true also of all the other visitants.This is invariably so where there is no trance. The others, whowere sober, level-headed people, assured me that they had oftenhad evidential messages beyond all possible question. I could notgo so far as that, but I could say that it was so near to it thatit would appear an absolute miracle for Mrs. Dowries to know inany normal manner the things which came through her. It is theactual information upon which one must judge, and one must refuseto be influenced by one's natural repugnance when one's highlyeducated son comes to one talking broad North-western American.Trumpet phenomena come through the medium and get their tinge inpassing, if the medium remains normal. In trance, on the otherhand, it is usual to have what St. Paul calls "the word ofknowledge" and "the word of wisdom" quite beyond the manner orpower of the speaker, as when Professor William James lectured methrough the lips of the young married lady of Brooklyn.

It was an in-and-out performance, but the medium was veryweary from her long drive. Her son had driven her, but she wouldnot let aim be present because she said people might always sayhe was an accomplice. Certainly she had no accomplice present;for I knew everyone in the room, and certainly also we weretouched actually, as Mrs. Downes could not possibly have reachedus. Apart from the accuracy of the messages, there was ample andfinal evidence of the presence of preternatural power; but as Ihave said, the messages themselves, though occasionally good,were never final. James Hyslop and Ward Beecher were among thosewho manifested and sent some long messages, but as my notes weretaken on my knee n the dark the report is rather incoherent. Thelatter alluded to my fears of a coming catastrophe, and said,"1925 is the danger year; after that things will mend." I do nottake dates very seriously in such messages, but it is worthrecording.

Portland left a pleasant impression on my mind, but I seebefore it a long period of material development which may standin the way of its soul. With its wonderful waterways, its iron,and its electric-power falls, together with the wealth of lumber,it will become rich. What doth it profit a man or a town? Who isthe better if another Pittsburg is developed, one more hideoussmudge upon the map? I do not see the New Jerusalem with spoutingchimneys. However, Portland is a fair city with sturdy folktherein, and the higher may develop rather than the lower. So onecan say also of Tacoma, a sister-city, which rests upon the samegeneral foundations.

I was amused at Tacoma to hear the very comfortable hotelspoken of as an old building with some veneration. It was as afact about forty years old. These things are, after all, a matterof comparison, and when one remembers that the whole State was awilderness of primaeval forest only eighty years ago, one canunderstand the point of view. It is really one of the mostwonderful things in the world how Nature has been subdued by manin so short a time in this western region of America.

Strange meetings and new ideas seem to strew my path. I haveput on record Abrams with his all-important vibrations, which forthe first time give a scientific basis for psychometry, and alsoHubbard with his giant aboriginals. Now comes Dr. Littlefield, ofSeattle, with his marvels of photomicroscopy and thought images,which are really the most incredible of the threewonders—so incredible that had I not met Littlefield, beenassured of his sanity and seen his photographs, I should hesitateto put it down upon paper. Even now it leaves me very mixed in mymind, and yet it may become more reasonable when other factorscome to our knowledge. So it often is when we get the firstglimpse of some new truth.

Littlefield's attention was first drawn to some strangeproperties which reside in the blood by studying the methods of afarmer who could always staunch bleeding in men or animals bywill-power. "Upon what," asked Littlefield, "did this will-poweract?" By some process of thought which I have not explored hecame to the conclusion that it was upon the saline constituentsof the blood. He then began experimenting upon these salts,sulphates of sodium and potassium, chlorides of the same, and theothers, with the following amazing results, which could surely beeasily checked by others, unless indeed (as is very possible)they depend upon some personal psychic quality in Littlefieldhimself.

If you take distilled water and saturate it with one of thesesalts, and then let it dry, so that the crystals may be depositedupon a glass slide, these crystals will arrange themselves intoany form which your own mind may direct. This form will bemicroscopic and the results only preserved throughmicrophotography. You need not be near the slide to produce theresult. Distance is immaterial. Such was the astounding statementof Dr. Littlefield.

His assertions are supported by a great number of photographs,which are perfectly clear and sometimes very artisticrepresentations of objects, a chicken, a dove, an eagle, a lion.I confess that I did not know what to make of them. I could notdeny the evidence of my own senses, and I found the doctor assteady-eyed, slow-spoken, and impressive a man as I have evermet; rather of the deliberate, self-contained New England typethan of the impulsive West.

But there is a further assertion. The salts will answerquestions, and very profound questions. He asks them some suchproblem as how man ever came upon earth. A strange diagram whichseems to have meaning in it will be given in reply. These seemedto me obscure and uncertain when compared with the definitethought-images, and it was possible to make the objection thatthey were wholly fanciful, which could not possibly be alleged ofthe others.

When Littlefield thought of elementary forms of life he wasable to actually produce them—or their simulacra. Does notthis throw a strange, direct light upon the origin of life uponthis or other planets? You have the evolution of the mineral, theformation of salts, the presence of water, and then the outsidewill which we can call the will of the Creator acting upon thesalts and fashioning them to His purpose. It is vague andobscure, but I here is some possible rift in the clouds whichcover our physical beginnings. I hope that in my leisure if I canbe said ever to have any leisure—I may work along thesewonderful lines.

Seattle is a most vigorous city of 350,000 inhabitants, solid,well ordered, and admirably laid out. Puget Sound at that pointhas only the breadth of a river, and one does not realize thatone is really upon the shore of the Pacific. It is the nearestAmerican port to Alaska, and the growth of the Yukon has no doubthad much to do with the rapid development of this point of outfitand departure.

One of my best psychic photographs had come from Seattle. AMrs. Lally had died at the age of seventy-six, and her body inits coffin, with the flowers around it, had been photographed bya local photographer named Kanouse. He took six plates, time-exposures by electric light. A member of the family stood by thecoffin for each plate, so that they might have a souvenir. Whenthe plates were developed, it was found that not only was there adifferent human figure in each, but that each also contained adifferent spirit-figure, representing various deceased friends ofthe dead woman. In the final plate she came back herself, and isseen clearly standing behind the open coffin in which herdiscarded natural body is visible. It seems a very remarkableevidence of continuity of life.

I had naturally made every enquiry as to the reliability ofthis photograph. The monstrous blasphemy entailed in a fake andthe apparent impossibility of collecting the photographs of allthese dead friends were strong arguments for the honesty of themedium. On the top of this I got the testimony of everyoneconcerned, and a certificate of genuineness from the President ofthe local Psychic Research Society, so that I was very sure of myground. Some weeks before my arrival some Seattle peopleprotested against my exhibiting it in the town on the ground thatit was fraudulent. This made me cautious, so when I reached thetown I examined all the circ*mstances myself, and interviewed Mr.Kanouse, the medium. Finally, I showed the pictures in theevening to a very great and enthusiastic audience, and I am surethat I was able to convey to them my own impression that theargument in favour of the honesty of the medium wasoverpoweringly strong. Incidentally I endeavoured to get aphotograph on my own from Mr. Kanouse, but the result was not asuccess. These things cannot be commanded, and there is no betterproof of honest work than its variability. I should look withsuspicion upon a medium who could guarantee his results. Though Igot no actual face upon my plate, there were a number of thosehazy clouds which we may call ectoplasmic, and which arecertainly signs of psychic power.

It was a solemn moment for me when at the end of my lecture Itold my audience that it was the last time I should speak upon anAmerican platform, and that my mission was now at an end. I couldbut pray that in the long furrow which I had broken some seedwould grow in time. It was with a great feeling of affection andrespect for the United States and its varied peoples that I andmy little group got aboard the Princess Victoria on themorning of June 12th, and saw the coast of Washington sinkingbehind us.

One cannot approach Canada from the south without thereflection that the Americans have, on the whole, beenmagnanimous in their relations both with the smaller State andwith the British Empire. To point the moral, let us imagine thatan. Imperial Germany had lain to the south of the Dominion. Canwe not imagine the threatenings, the pressure, the massing oftroops, the paid agitators, the fomented troubles, the flood ofsecret-service money, all the devices by which an annexationmovement could be stimulated. It is only when we think of thisthat we can realize the nobility of the attitude of the UnitedStates, and appreciate the fact that on a line 3,000 miles longwhich separates a very large State from a much smaller one, thereis not anywhere a single military post.

I am assured with that assurance which has never yet deceivedme that the time will come, and that soon, when there will be nofrontier there. This will come about not through an annexation ofCanada, but through a closing-up by common consent of theEnglish-speaking States and their dependencies under some suchgeneral title as the United States of Africa, America, Australia,Canada, England, Ireland, New Zealand, Scotland and Wales. Such aState must recognize the present United States as containing thecentre of gravity of the race, and as being, upon a counting ofvotes, the predominant partner. But each part would retain itsown complete self-government with liberty of secession a libertywhich would, I am sure, never be exercised. That one part isnominal republic and another part nominal monarchy need in no wayinterfere. All that would be needed would be some small centralCouncil which would give guidance upon the matters which affectedall. There would naturally be diehards on both sides who wouldnever never consent, Americans who would invoke the shades ofWashington and Hamilton, British who would see in it theabsorption and extinction of their Empire. Both would have astrong and plausible case, especially the British, who in a votewould become subordinate. But when the results are placed againstthese objections, the end of all bickerings, the insuranceagainst dangers, the power of guiding the world into paths ofpeace, then I am convinced that the good sense of the nationswould gradually overcome all prejudice. But strong men will beneeded before the job is carried through. We have had bilingualnations. Is there any real difficulty in having one which isunder two flags, each equally honoured by the other, with armyand navy in common. It will surely come in God's own time, butthe pleonastic name of Anglo-Saxon must give way to the reallycomprehensive one of Anglo-Celtic.

X. — THE WEST OF CANADA

An Old Comrade—Vancouver—AncientForest—Ectoplasmic Medium—CanadianFarming—Edmonton—Canadian Liquor Laws—Renan'sSt. Paul—Calgary—Alberta Coal-fields

Much as I love America, it always gives one a thrill to beunder the Union Jack once more with one's feet on British soil.Very British indeed is Victoria, with a population which islargely residential and includes a number of ex-service men whodesire cheap living in some pleasant spot. There is certainlyroom in Canada, and still more in America, for a city which willexclude industries, cultivate the amenities, and cater entirelyfor the mental and bodily needs of a non-working population. LosAngeles would have been such a place, but already theadvertisem*nts are gleefully announcing that its future issecured as many industries are developing, which is exactly whatmay militate against its more beautiful future. Victoria,however, is quite uncontaminated, and the retired wheat-grower orminer in the evening of his days could find no more pleasantwaiting-place.

On landing I was accosted by a sturdy resident who gave thename of Grant and explained that he had been one of my medicalorderlies in South Africa, also that he and I had been the twofullbacks of the Langman Hospital team. In this genial company Idrove round the beautiful town, where the broom formed acres ofgolden cloud upon the hillsides of a more vivid yellow than Ihave ever seen before. I had a lesson in geography, for, having avague idea that the town was on an island, I was on the point ofasking how long it would take us to run round it. Luckily Iforbore, for I found out afterwards that it is the island ofVancouver, and that it is exactly the same size as England. Thenorthern part is almost unexplored forest, full of bears,cougars, and other interesting objects.

I had a splendidly intelligent audience in a charming theatrethat night, and came away by the night boat with very pleasantimpressions of the place. I do not see how it can ever developvery largely until the hinterland is all settled, but it has afine, steady, orderly growth of its own, and is much visited byAmericans and by business-men from China and Japan who put theirchildren to school here. There is no place on the AmericanContinent which is so British, and the deep British patriotismwhich is far too solid for flag-wagging infuses the whole people,as was shown when, without provocation, they rose and sang "Godsave the King!" at the end of my lecture. I slept in theVancouver boat that night, and was awakened by someone who had aclairaudient message for me from Charles Dickens. I wish I couldsuffer fools more gladly—but I apologized next morning.

Vancouver is lovely. There is no other word for it. High,snow-capped mountains dominate the town, and the land-locked,green-shored bay with its pellucid water makes a wonderfulsetting. The town itself is very American in appearance with itshigh buildings. Here also there can be no great expansion untilWestern Canada is more populous, but sooner or later Vancouverwill certainly be another San Francisco. The meeting in theevening was a splendid one with an attendance of 3,000; but itwas in a huge barn of a place which could hold 10,000, and thestrain upon my voice and on my strength was very great. I beganto feel it, and I looked forward eagerly to the rest which waspromised me at Jasper. It was a pleasure to me here to get intouch with the Leckie brothers, distant relatives of my wife, whodid splendid work with the Canadians in the War. General Leckie,the elder, had just gone to hospital with some complaint, and wewere shocked to hear a few weeks later that he was dead. In allour great army I do not think:here was a more gentle or a morevaliant man. I learned from all sides that my Vancouver lectureshad produced a considerable effect. I was amused to hear that aboxing-man had attended, under the impression apparently that theauthor of Rodney Stone was bound to deal with somesporting subject, instead of which he found himself in a clinchwith Spiritualism, and unable to break away. "Well, I'm cleanknocked out!" was his final exclamation.

There is a park on the very outskirts of the town where a bitof primaeval forest—a very large bit too—has beenpreserved. It is a really wonderful place, and makes allornamental parks look very small, for it has giant cedars,hundreds of them, centuries old. Some of them are nearly as bigas the redwoods of California, and we were all photographed inone hollow trunk which can comfortably contain a motor-car. Wewere told that there were thirty miles of bridle paths throughthis wonderful forest.

In accordance with my custom I endeavoured, in spite of ourlimited time, to explore the psychic possibilities of the place.There seemed to be a good many enthusiastic and experiencedSpiritualists. It is curious how little the so-called upper andeducated classes know of the wonderful things in the world aroundthem. They seem to me to be all either materialists, who have nohope and no belief, or else they lie petrified in the grip ofsome formal Church which has forgotten the meaning of the verywords it uses. It is the poorer class and the lower-middle classwho have some hold of the spiritual things. I was interested tolearn that the Japanese fishermen who come across takeclairvoyance as a matter of course, and are much shocked at theirreligious ignorance of the whites. There was one medium with areputation, and arrangements had been made for me to test hispowers. His name was Clarence Britton, and he was a disciple ofFarmer Riley. Farmer Riley came from Michigan and was a verystrong materializing medium. I happened to meet a young ladywhose family had entertained Farmer Riley, and she was full ofhis wonderful powers. His fate is instructive. A Researcherpounced upon the ectoplasmic figure as it emerged from thecondensing cabinet, with the result that Farmer Riley becameparalysed and finally died. I have known quite half a dozenmediums who have suffered bodily harm through these violent andignorant interruptions, and no medium will be safe until anenlightened jury brings in a verdict of manslaughter against theman who ventures upon so dangerous an experiment, unless there isexcellent reason to suspect fraud.

Clarence Britton is a tall, thin, dreamy man with visionaryeyes and a weary manner, which was accounted for when I learnedthat he had very unwisely held a sitting the night before. I hadtherefore only the fa*g end of his powers, and yet they were veryarresting. I examined his cabinet, a square of curtains erectedin the middle of the room—the house belonging to anindependent Spiritualist. No one was in it and no one couldapproach it unseen, for the light was fairly good. There weresome twenty people crammed into the room, but Denis and I were inthe front row and within six feet of the opening. A number offaces of various types and the upper halves of bodies, black-bearded, white-bearded, and feminine appeared between thecurtains, in various sorts of dress, white shirt-fronts and blackties predominating. Sitters in the room confidently recognizedthem, and there were loud, joyful greetings. These faces seemedto dematerialize by sinking down to the ground, and I saw themall the way through the slit of the curtains. It might, however,be objected that if they were masks they could have beenmanipulated in this way. I forgot to say that the proceedingsbegan by my strapping the medium's wrists together behind hisback, but I cannot swear that the binding was effectual.

No figure ventured outside the cabinet, though I had theassurance of my neighbours that they usually did so. There cameone which was claimed by no one, and which on the contraryclaimed me. It was hard to see details, but I must admit that thegeneral form was much like that of my mother, and Denis thoughtthe same. I could not swear to it, however, as I could swear toseeing my mother with Miss Besinnet in London. Altogether it wasa tantalizing experience, because one felt that one was always onthe edge of proof and yet could never quite get it. The nearestto it was when the control said she would sing in the cabinetwith a mouth-organ accompaniment. The duet must surely have beenthe work of two persons. I asked the medium afterwards whether hecould play the mouth-organ, and he very frankly said that hecould. Presuming, then, that he played the instrument, whosevoice was it which accompanied—the voice of a child, gentleand thin? This seemed to me to be the most evidential sign ofspirit-presence which came to us. If Mr. Britton thinks I havedone less than justice to his powers—which I think is veryprobable—he must blame himself for exhausting them inadvance.

I had several talks with Canadian farmers while in the West.Farming is a gamble in every country, but the prizes in Canadaare very great and the blanks are few. At the same time they dooccur. One poor man told me how he had 47 acres under wheat, andhow on the very eve of the harvest a local hail-tornadoabsolutely levelled the whole lot to the ground and so ruinedhim. Another in 1920 had a splendid crop of wheat and oats, 40bushels of the former to the acre, and 320 acres in all. Thebottom fell out of the market on account of the economicconditions of Europe, and he sold for 24 cents a bushel on anaverage that which it had taken him 65 cents a bushel to produce.Ruin once again! But after all these are the rare exceptions, anda good man in a good year can make a long start towardsindependence.

I was brought into contact also with some up-to-date miningmen when I was at Vancouver, and was much interested in all thatI learned. The sterile mountains which form the whole easternborder of British Columbia may well prove to be the treasure-chest of Canada, though the lid has been difficult to open.Whenever it has been opened a peep of something wonderful hasbeen obtained. I lunched with Mr. Tives, of the Pioneer Mine, agold-mine which is paying 55 per cent, upon a capital of amillion pounds. There are many others, gold, silver, lead, andcopper, coming along, though the development of the country hasbeen held back by the wildcat schemes of the Hooley enterprise.None the less the stuff is there, and sooner or later will comeout.

The system is that prospectors work all over the country, andwhen they get good ore bring it to the capitalist. The capitalistthen advances a few hundred dollars for further development. Whenthe property is well tested, the capitalist raises the money torun the mine, giving the original finder an interest in theventure. Colonel Leckie assured me, to my great surprise, thatseaplanes are used in the mining operations. Surely no two thingsfurther apart could be imagined. But there are lakes in everyvalley, and the engineer can often save himself weeks ofdifficult trails by flying straight from one lake to another.

We passed through wonderful mountain scenery from Vancouver toJasper Park, where I left my family. I went on 250 miles toEdmonton, where I was to lecture next night. Jasper Park is thehappy valley, the wonderful playground of Western Canada, and itis ruled over by Colonel Rogers, an old friend, whom I have knownsince the South African War, when he came out with the Canadiancontingent. He is king over a country which is larger than anEnglish shire, which contains wonderful scenery, unspoilednature, and wild creatures which have never learned to fear man.To this paradise I will return. I pass on now to Edmonton.

Here the Macdonald Hotel, built by the Canadian NationalRailway, was a great addition to the town as I had known it tenyears before, but otherwise I fear there had not been very muchgrowth. It is bound to come, however, as Edmonton is the capitalof a grand province and is destined for great things. The warthrew everything back, and afterwards came Bolshevik troublesamong the foreign colliers and other workers who were supportedby Russian money. The outbreaks at Johannesburg shortlyafterwards looked as if the Red forces were systematicallyattacking the British Empire by endeavouring to weaken itsfurther outposts. They directed their appeals in Canada to thereturned soldiers, but far from giving help to therevolutionists, the soldiers rallied to the side of law andorder. There are still the seeds of trouble, but it will never beserious.

They were taking down a wing of the jail at Edmonton, becausethey found it uninhabited since Prohibition was adopted inAlberta. In England one always quotes America on prohibition, butpeople forget that most of Canada has also gone dry, and is verymuch the better for the experience. Alberta is entirely dry. Sois Manitoba. In British Columbia there is a curious system bywhich the Government sells liquor, the purchaser having to get acard for which he pays two dollars. On the back of the card isinscribed how much he consumes. One sees no liquor in the hotels,and, of course, the public-house or saloon-bar is entirely doneaway with, which is a splendid thing in itself. For any countrywhich desires a compromise I think that the British Columbia cardsystem is well worth considering, since any profit derived goesto the good of the general community.

One cannot be in Edmonton without hearing about wheat. AllCanada is expecting this to be the bumper crop, and it will be aterrible disappointment if anything stands in the way. Fivehundred million bushels is the total aimed at. I am told that ifa man had taken up a farm at the price which can still beobtained for decent ground—say four dollars anacre—he might by the profits of a single good year clearhis whole farm, while several good years in succession would givehim a competence for life. The successful farmer in GreatBritain, if there is such a person, could not do better than sendone of his younger sons out here with a modest capital to startwith. He would, with any luck, get his money repaid and his boywould have a chance of a real career. So well do the farmers doin some of the northern parts that they can afford to live likegentlemen in Victoria and Vancouver for the winter and thenreturn to run their farms when the snow has cleared.

I had not expected much success in Edmonton, but as a matterof fact the large hall was completely sold out and I had asplendid audience. I detected the presence of some opposition,but that is always welcome. Several Spiritualists came upafterwards, and two who were clairvoyant described lights andfigures seen upon my platform. It is well to accept such thingswith some reserve, but their constant independent repetitionconvinces me that these forces of which I am so conscious dosometimes at least impress themselves upon others.

I have been spending my lonely days reading Renan's Vie duSt. Paul. He makes the wanderings of the great apostle veryclear, very real, but he seems to me to have not the least ideaof his methods. Renan with all his learning and sympathy wasstill a Frenchman, cynical and materialistic. The whole psychicworld was closed to him—that world in which Paul spent halfhis existence. Puzzled by the miracles, Renan actually putsforward the view that Paul and Barnabas did conjuring tricks inorder to impress the people. He says, "Les prestiges auxquelsil nous est malheureusem*nt interdit de douter que Paul etBarnabas eurent plus d'une fois recours." If this were indeedso, how could Renan respect Paul or write a book in his honour?What would be thought of an advocate of Spiritualism whosupported his thesis by bogus phenomena? He would be a rogue, andso would Paul, if what Renan says were true. But it is not true,and one has only to read Paul's list of the spiritual gifts, andunderstand what is implied by his trances, to realize that he wasin as close touch with things of the spirit as Renan was alienfrom them.

I took the trouble to look up the references upon which Renanbases his monstrous theory. They were Rom. xv. 19 and 2 Cor. xii.12. The first says, "Through mighty signs and wonders, by thepower of the Spirit of God; so that from Jerusalem... I havefully preached the gospel of Christ." The second says, "Truly thesigns of an apostle were wrought among you in all patience, insigns, and wonders, and mighty deeds." Are they not both whatwould be said by one who had psychic or, as we should say,"mediumistic" powers, and attributed them, as such higher powersshould be attributed, to the Spirit of God? How densely ignorantof psychic matters a man must have been to think that these wereallusions to conjuring tricks! And this is the most famousbiographer of Paul! It only shows that even the cleverest man isincapable of really understanding the New Testament unless he hassome knowledge of psychic possibilities.

I met a Dr. Porter in Edmonton who told me of a curiousexperience. He had a sudden presentiment that his father in NewBrunswick was dead. He was so sure of it that he went round totell his brother, but he found him already greatly agitatedbecause he had seen a vision of the old man with a log acrosshim. The two brothers set forth to consult with a third brother,but found that he also had had a warning. Of course theinevitable telegram of confirmation came later. What can one makeof such a case, save that a number of receivers are all attunedto the same mysterious transmitter?

From Edmonton to Calgary, two hundred miles, is one longstretch of wheat-lands, with the wheat now six inches high,straight and green and beautiful. The usual farm is one hundredand sixty acres, but many farmers have taken larger ones and findit difficult to handle them. Men and money—these are thetwo crying needs of the North-west. But the men must be the rightmen, men of the soil who know the great secret of how to get themost from Nature.

It is from the Scandinavian and North-German races that thebest material is now drawn. The queer Russian Dukhobors are alsoexcellent material, so long as they are sane; but every now andthen, exactly like the Red Indians, they have epidemics offrenzy, when they strip off their clothes and are guilty of everysort of absurdity. In their normal state they are decent, quietfolk, vegetarians and abstainers, with a good knowledge ofa*griculture. There are thousands of them, but there is sometendency now for them to be absorbed into the generalpopulation.

I sat the whole day, June 19th, in the observation-car withMr. "Billie Brown," of the railway, absorbing local knowledge.There are coal-mines on the very edge of the track from whichcoal can be shovelled right on to the tender, at a cost of underten shillings a ton. I should think no other railroad in theworld has such an advantage as that. An astute American namedDrumheller had obtained a hold over the coal district, and drewroyalties at the rate of nearly a shilling a ton over the wholeoutput, which must have made him a very wealthy man.

Every few miles down the track was a huge wooden tower forstoring grain. The farmer brings it in his wagon, and it isgraded, valued, and paid for then and there. It is then stored inthe elevator, which is divided into compartments for wheat, rye,and barley, and the various grades of each. Then it is shot intothe railway-trucks, which have a mark upon them to show how muchcan be held, for these various grains have very differentweights, and a load of rye could be carried where an equal bulkof wheat would burst the bottom out of the car. It all seemed tobe very carefully regulated and handled.

The Mayor of Calgary, Mr. Webster, took me round, and I wasable to see the place well and appreciate its greatpossibilities. It has now 70,000 inhabitants, about the same asTacoma, but it has a greater aspect of bustle and growth than theAmerican town. If the oil-wells develop, as is hoped, it willsoon become a very great place; but here the war, as at Edmonton,has stopped all growth, and it is only just beginning to pick upagain. These oil-wells are thoroughly proved in Wyoming andMontana, and they have now crept up to the Canadian border, butthe strata seem to sink as one goes northward, so that theborings become deeper. However, there is no doubt at all that theoil is there, and it is only a question of time when it isflowing freely. Meanwhile, the Imperial Oil Company has built ahuge refining station and prepared many vats at Calgary, so allis ready for its reception. [*]

[* It is stated, since my visit, that the prospects have become much less favourable.]

My lecture at Calgary was perhaps the least happy of my tour.Everything seemed to go wrong. The night was wet, the hall wasawkward, the attendance poor, the price too high, the operatorbroke my favourite slide—in fact an evil influence seemedto be predominant. However, I did my part as well as I could, andthat is all for which I am responsible. Here at Calgary, to mysorrow, I took leave of Mr. Erskine, who had been my very gentle,patient, and efficient companion all through. He had now toreturn to New York, and I was to do the short remainder of mylecture-schedule without him.

We came back, Mr. Billie Brown and I, on a different line fromCalgary to Edmonton, so that I might see the coal-fields. Theline runs down a long, winding valley, crossing a stream whichmust have driven the original engineer nearly crazy. There areseventy wooden bridges in twenty miles on account of themisguided meanderings of this wretched stream, which must at onetime have been a very great river, for the marks of tremendouswater-power were all around us. It has exposed soft cliffs ofsandstone, those subcretaceous sands which were the home andfinally the winding-sheet of the great dragons of the prime. Thesand cliffs lie in well-defined strata which change to bands ofdark peat. These in turn harden to coal, which lies about ahundred feet below the surface. There are about thirty mines inoperation, all centring upon the town of Drumheller.

This development is really of enormous importance to Canada,for no coal has ever been discovered in the great CentralProvinces of Quebec and Ontario, so that the Dominion is entirelydependent upon the Maritime Provinces in the east and theseAlberta mines—until you get over to the Pacific coast,where coal abounds.

The Alberta coal is lignite and merely useful for domesticpurposes, as it is only bituminous coal which can be burned onthe railroads. The miner gets roughly from a pound to thirtyshillings a day, but his work is intermittent, for the supply isnow greater than the demand, and for months in the year the minesshut down altogether.

It is a monotonous country, for there are few trees, save fordwarf oaks and birches with low brushwood full of scuttlinglittle animals. Very few birds are seen. Wild-roses are luxurianton both sides of the track, and the fields are full of bluecampanulas. Most beautiful are the occasional pellucid ponds withbroad margins of marsh ragwort jasper set in gold.

I had a feeling of discouragement after this Calgary lecture,as if I had missed fire and was perhaps going stale and losingsome of that inner force which is needed to send forth a message.The papers, however, were unusually kind next day. "One thousandpairs of eyes gazed spellbound on the photographs. In thedarkened room, crowded with many persons deeply concentrated uponthem, the pictures had a marvellous effect." So much for theslides. I even had some bouquets for myself to cheer me up. "Manycommented on Sir Arthur's charm as a speaker, the forcefulness ofhis delivery and effectiveness of his style." "A humorous remarkacted like a spring releasing extreme tension. It was clearlyindicative of the rapt attention paid the speaker, a tribute tohis remarkable power as an accomplished, forceful orator, ifnothing else." So, after all. I had made some impression inCalgary. As to oratory, it is a thing of which I never think. Myone ambition is to make a plain, truthful statement in an earnestway, and that is about the most I ever attain.

XI. — JASPER PARK

A Rocky Mountain Paradise—The Opal Lake—Billyand the Bear—Otto the Packer—Trip into theWilds—Athabasca Falls—Isolated Soldier—ColonelRogers

Jasper Park is not sufficiently known in England, nor does theaverage Englishman show sufficient enterprise in regulating hisholidays. How many there are who would think nothing of spendinga few hundred pounds in the south of France. And what do they getthereby? The most conventional change of surroundings, theatmosphere usually of one grand hotel instead of another similarhotel, and nothing fresh or novel to carry away, as a permanentrecord. But think what the same money would give if thattraveller changed his view of the possible! The glorious voyagein ships which seem now to be impervious to weather, the journeyup the wonderful St. Lawrence, the panorama of Canada, and then,if the total vacation be two months, a clear month or the bestpart of it of real virgin forest, of untamed nature, with tractsstill open for exploration within one's reach in which it wouldbe hardly an exaggeration to say that man has never travelled.The packer, the packhorse, the bed of fir boughs, the tent besidethe stream, the great unknown ranges, and as a base of suppliesand a permanent residence if need be, as good an hotel as mancould desire. The paragraph sounds like an advertisem*nt writtento order, and yet it is but a cold statement of our own unbiassedview. Man, woman, and children, we all look on Jasper as thewonderland.

I sit and write on the balcony of my log hut, which soundssimple and primitive, but it is none the less provided withelectric light, heat radiators, and hot water. There is a row ofthem, in each of which one enjoys one's own family privacy, andthen at the end of the row the low-lying wooden hotel with goodtable and good service. In front of me is the most remarkablelake of any I know, and I have a good many on my visiting-list.Its colours are never the same from hour to hour-emerald-green,copper-green, lapis-lazuli blue, pure olive, and then suddenly atouch of pink which turns it all into one huge opal. Its stillsurface is broken now by one dark, moving spot. It looks human,but no swimmer would stay long in those chill waters. It is abeaver. And there is another one over yonder. And there on thebank, that careless pile of sticks, is their house. You couldthrow a stone into it from my writing-table. Behind it a fir woodstretches upward. In this wood, within sight of the hotel, Billyfound herself yesterday walking parallel with a bear. Like thebrave little Brownie that she is, patrol leader of theCrowborough patrol, and with the honour of that distinguishedcorps to uphold, she walked past the bear to call her brothers."I wasn't really frightened, mammie, but my voice soundeddifferent somehow." Dennis and Malcolm darted off toget—not a rifle, for no weapon is allowed in this paradise,but a kodak. With this they pursued the bear, clicking at itwhile it lumbered through the wood. Such are the little surprisesat Jasper. Malcolm had seen another bear the day before andpursued it with the same cheerful gallantry.

I look up even as I write, and the lake, which was opal whenlast I glanced, is now striped lilac and green. It is somestrange effect of the mountains around, I suppose, but never haveI seen such subtle and varied shades. A chipmunk is standing onthe step leading to my balcony, its bright little eyes watchingme, and its bushy tail in the air. Malcolm comes in to report afour-foot pike in the lake, where it is likely to remain in spiteof his patient efforts to get it to eat a large mother-of-pearlspoon. You need not walk a hundred yards to see wild Nature, forwild Nature comes to you in Jasper.

But if one wishes something more active and virile one pressesa button, and up there starts the spirit of the place, theincarnation of the wilderness. It is Otto, bear hunter andpacker, son of an old-time trapper. Otto is a little like a bearhimself, very massive, his legs curved to the saddle, his shaggycow-boy shapps giving them an animal effect and his largeweather-tanned face speaking of wind and sun and open spaces. Heis at your service.

What do you require? One night out? A week out? Two monthsout? Horses, men, and provisions will be ready to-morrow. Thereare few words, short and gruff and to the purpose. But Otto andhis outfit will be there.

Perhaps after my long strain I might have been wiser to spendmy week in quiet commune with Nature. The lake, the mountains,and the woods are enough, even from a balcony. But the call ofOtto and the wild was too direct. The second day of my return sawus off The motor took us seven miles, and there the road ended. Abunch of horses, five saddle and three pack, were waiting withOtto himself, a cowboy friend named Scott, and a young cook, eachof them of course with his own mount. So we took the trail tohave our short experience of the simple life.

It was rather a strenuous experience, especially for anelderly man who was utterly out of condition, but it was veryglorious none the less. We did forty miles of very rough trailsin the three days, and saw no soul during that time, nor anyhouse, save a solitary Warden who lives alone with his wife, deepin the forest, keeping guard over its interests, especially inthe matter of fire. We visited the head-waters of the AthabascaRiver and saw the wonderful falls, seldom reached by tourists,where the great stream narrows in a limestone gorge and flingsitself with a deep roar over a hundred feet of cliff. It is anawesome place to look down at, and the dark woods around areawesome too, but they echoed now to the happy laughter of thechildren. It was a wonderful memory in their young lives, andOtto declared that they were the youngest and cheeriest bunch whohad ever been out with him. Billy behaved like a little heroine,and though her horse rolled once while she was mounted, sheextricated herself and remounted without a whimper. The boys,too, took to the life of the trail as to the manner born. It isamazing how quickly human nature can go back to itsbeginnings.

We did some thirteen miles out the first day, ten the second,and thirteen back the third, and though the distances are small,the trails were very bad, and we were climbing, descending,passing through bog, and picking our way among rocks all thetime. I felt quite at home in the saddle, though I must admit tosome difficulty in getting on and off it. My wife was always afine horsewoman, so there was no difficulty there. Colonel Rogershad kindly lent me an English saddle, which was a great help. Ofall ingenious methods of torture, to put a large man into anundersized stock saddle is the worst. I have endured it twice andknow what I say. One does not realize it at the start and getsout of reach of help before one understands what is coming toone. Then it is a long, slowly increasing agony of spine andthighs which brings you back drooping over your pommel and doneto the world. Let the tourist beware!

But it is a vivid memory, the brown path winding among thegreen trees, the sunlight coming in vivid pools of light amongthe shadows, the great slate-grey river roaring upon one side ofus, the chain of still green lakes, the halt for the welcomewayside meal, and everywhere the flowers. There were "roses,roses, all the way," as dear old Lewis Waller used to say. Surelythe wild-rose should be the emblem of Alberta. Vivid scarletlilies and "Indian paint-brushes" flowered among the mosses andlow tangle of cranberry bushes and Indian tea shrubs with smallwhite blossoms. It was a panorama of beauty. And then at nightthe camp-fire glaring upon the overhanging trees and the roar ofthe falls to lull one to sleep upon a bed of spruce branches,with all the clamour and contention of the world as far away asif it were a distant dream.

The Warden at Athabasca Falls was an ex-British officer namedWells, who lived in great loneliness save for his charming littleCanadian wife. He had been wounded at Delville Wood, had beensent out to East Africa and had found some harder work there thanany he had seen in France. It is astonishing how little peopleknow about this tremendous war which has changed the whole faceof the world. I suppose we are too near the picture to see thedetails, and that fifty years will enable us to get the focus.How many know that, humanly speaking, the fate of Africa wasdecided in a great pitched battle at Buneo-Yita, where all theBritish forces drew together and all the German forces facedthem, and they fought until both sides were bled white andexhausted, but the British remained on the field. Each army mayhave been about five thousand, and each lost more than half itsnumber. The Askaris were formidable soldiers, for the Germans putthem through an iron discipline. But the Houssas were formidablealso. Both sides had splendid men to lead them. Four Nigerianbattalions, King's African Rifles, Indians, and the 24th London(Frontiersmen) were the main body of the British forces on thatmomentous day, and at the end there were not five cartridges leftper man. "A close-run affair," as the Duke used to say.

I had hoped—and no doubt my readers had also—thatI had got a rest from psychic work at Jasper, but we were bothdestined to be disappointed, for I had a request from the staffof the hotel and from the workmen that I should speak to them,and such a request, however unsought, is a call. We had a meetingtherefore, some sixty present, including waiters, waitresses,chauffeurs, carpenters, bell-boys, and others. I pictured to themthe glorious fate which lies ahead of every one of us, if we dobut walk decently straight, and I hope I brought some light intolives which, even amid the beauties of Jasper, have no doubttroubles of their own. Some intelligent questions were asked atthe end, the head waiter winding up the proceedings by declaringthat hell had exploded. So that is official. There was, Iunderstand, a great aftermath of discussion and even ofexperiment.

The animal life in Jasper is wonderful, but the motor-carshave driven much of it off the main roads and you have to goquietly into the forests to see it. This does not apply, however,to the bears, who come down to rummage in the hotel dump, wheresometimes several at a time may be seen. I explained to ColonelRogers that while he was right no doubt to forbid any injury tothe bears, one would like to be assured that there was areciprocity agreement. If the bears are going to concentrateround the hotels, timid folk will take to the hills. ColonelRogers told me that recently he had imported a herd of elk. Therewere some wild bull elks over the hills seventy miles away, yetin a few weeks they had found and mixed with the new herd,crossing two ranges 4,000 feet high on the way. Science has muchto learn as to such methods of communication.

It was a sad night when we pulled out of Jasper. As we lookedback there was Edith Cavell Mountain, white and serene, with thegreat white angel-shaped glacier upon her brown breast. Onebright star twinkled in a violet sky. "It is rotten leavingJasper. Insects, bears, horses, people, we love them all." Sospoke Malcolm and voiced the sentiment of all.

XII. — ACROSS CANADA

The Prairie Winnipeg Baseball Game—Remarkable PsychicPhenomena Religious Circle—FortWilliam—Montreal—The Catholic Atmosphere—TomMoore—A Poltergeist—Summing up

It is a very long stretch from Jasper to Winnipeg, but we didit in one stage with great com fort, thanks to the continualattention of' the Canadian National Railway. Canada has certainlysuffered very heavily from the war, and it was sad to see howlittle progress has been made in all that long line of townletswhich I described in 1914 as so many starters all toeing theline—the Grand Trunk Line and ready to start on their racefor greatness. It was still hard to pick a winner, thoughWainwright, Biggar, and Watrous were emerging from the ruck, andSaskatoon, as the capital of Saskatchewan, was in a class byitself. The Mayor and a deputation, with great courtesy, camedown to give us greeting as we passed, and a very livelycommunity they seemed to represent. The prairie becomes wearisomeat last, but it is interesting to see the silent invasion fromtreeland which begins about a hundred miles west of Winnipeg. Thetrees came first singly here and there, exactly like theoutriders of an army, then in solid clumps, like the supports,and finally the whole great plain is covered by them as theystream, self-planted, from east to west.

Winnipeg is rising superior to the war and we found manybeautiful new buildings. The whole town is more like a realgarden city than any I have seen. As you look over it from thehigh windows of the Fort Garry Hotel, it is difficult to realizethat it is really a considerable city, and not a wood withoccasional high buildings projecting from among the trees. Wecame upon it on Dominion Day, when all business was suspended andeveryone was in festivity, so we fitted ourselves into thepicture and attended the international baseball match betweenWinnipeg and Minneapolis in the morning. Both sides seemed to meto be surprisingly good, and the fielding, catching, andthrowing-in were far superior to that of good English cricketteams. Of course in catching they are aided by the great glove onthe left hand, but every cricketer knows the difficulty ofjudging a long catch, and when I say that not one was misjudgedor dropped by either side out of at least fifty, it will show howhigh was the standard. I wish more and more that this game couldacclimatize in Britain, for it has many points which make it theideal game both for players and spectators. I have all theprejudices of an old cricketer, and yet I cannot get away fromthe fact that baseball is the better game.

While I love the game of baseball and would be glad to see itpopular in England, I hope we shall always play it in a clean,straight way. It has been greatly purified now in America, but inthe past it has been full of what we should call dirty tricks,which seem to have been condoned far too easily by publicopinion. The famous pitcher, Mathewson, has written an excellentbook of reminiscences which tells of a good many of these, someof which he seems to consider quite justifiable. Thus he narrateswith amusem*nt that in the case of a certain pitcher he was putoff his game by the opposing team learning that there was apainful incident connected with a drum in his early life, and all"rat-tat-tatting" together whenever he began to pitch. It ishumorous, no doubt, but I hope our alleged want of humour will bemaintained in matters of sport. On another occasion the visitingteam discovered a hidden wire under the turf on the home team'sfield, by which messages and signals were conveyed to the coacheror manager. The manager simply laughed when the wire was tracedup to his table by an indignant fieldsman. It was no uncommonthing to mix soap with the earth round the pitcher's box, so thatwhen he rubbed his hands they would become more slippery and notdrier.

The crowd's ideas of sport became as debased as those of theplayers, and the throwing of bottles at the fielders became notuncommon. Of late, however, there has been marked improvement,which is due, it is said, to the players being drawn from ahigher class, many college-bred men being attracted by the highpay. A fine player may be bought by one club from another, andtwenty thousand pounds is not an unusual price. Of this sum hewould only get a part, but he would receive in addition a salarywhich might easily be from one to two thousand a year. He has towork very hard for the money, his tobacco is cut off, he is inconstant hard training, and he is lucky if he gets through theseason uninjured. They say that baseball players of the firstclass do not live to a great age. Mathewson himself has developedtubercle, though he has now sufficiently recovered to coach ateam in Boston.

On our first night in Winnipeg we attended a circle forpsychical research which has been conducted for two years by agroup of scientific men who have obtained remarkable results. Themedium is a small, pleasant-faced woman from the WesternHighlands of Scotland. Her psychic gifts are both mental andphysical. The circle, which contained ten persons, including mywife and myself, placed their hands, or one hand each, upon asmall table, part of which was illuminated by phosphorus so as togive some light. It was violently agitated, and this process wasdescribed as "charging it." It was then pushed back into a smallcabinet made of four hung curtains with an opening in front. Outof this the table came clattering again and again entirely on itsown, with no sitter touching it. I stood by the slit in thecurtain in subdued red light and I watched the table within. Onemoment it was quiescent. A moment later it was like a restlessdog in a kennel, springing, tossing, beating up against thesupports, and finally bounding out with a velocity which causedme to get quickly out of the way. It ended by rising up in theair while our finger-tips were on it and remaining up for anappreciable period.

Many of Crawford's Belfast experiments have been duplicated bythis group of scientists, which is the more important in view ofDr. Fourrier d'Albe's failure to get the same results. The doctorwho presided had a butcher's scale in the room. The table weighed12 1/2 pounds. He suspended it to the scale and was able, simplyby psychic power, to increase the registered weight to 46 poundsand to decrease it to 7 pounds. He made one novel observation,which was that the raps which accompany the experiments persistand even increase when the weight increases, but disappear whenthe weight is below the normal.

On the mental side the peculiarity of the sittings is thatlittle quotations which can be traced to R. L. Stevenson's worksare rapped out by the medium. So far as is known, the littleScotch woman knows nothing normally of R. L. S., because she isnot of a literary turn. Quotation after quotation has beenactually verified. One curious line came through which has notyet been located. It is: "It will come at last like grey hairs orcoffin nails." It sounds like Stevenson, but I cannot placeit.

The man who goes upon occult paths does certainly have anextraordinary variety of experience. Let me briefly narrate thatwhich happened on the morning of July 4th, the day after mylecture at Winnipeg, which had been a remarkably successful oneto a very crowded house. I had heard of a strange circle and of avery remarkable medium, whom I will call Mrs. Bolton. At 9 a.m.one of her devotees, who are absolutely wholehearted in theirbelief and devotion, was at the hotel door with a car. After afour-mile drive we alighted at a lonely villa on the extremeoutskirts of the town, where there were six other men and threewomen to meet us. The men were all alert, middle-aged or young,evidently keen men of business who might have been accountants ormerchants. Yet here they were from ten o'clock onwards on aworking day giving themselves up to what was in their eyesinfinitely more important than business.

We sat around the room, and presently Mrs. Bolton entered, awoman of the Blavatsky type of rounded face, but less heavy. Sheseemed gentle and amiable. She sat down while "Lead, kindlyLight" was sung. Then she sank into a trance, from which shequietly emerged with an aspect of very great dignity andbenevolence. I have never seen more commanding eyes than thosewhich fixed us each in turn. "It is the Master. It is the HighSpirit," whispered my neighbours. Standing up, and greeting eachof us in turn with very great dignity, the medium, or the entitycontrolling her, proceeded to baptize a child nine weeks oldbelonging to one of the circle. The mother might have stood for amodel of reverence and awe. She then handed round bread and wine,as in the Sacrament. The wine, as I was assured by all, wassimply water drawn from the domestic supply. It had now becomefaintly red with an aromatic odour and taste. At every meetingthis miracle of changing the water into wine was performed,according to the unanimous testimony of these very same workadaymen of the world, who declare that they themselves have drawn thewater. I could not give a name to the taste and smell, which werevery pleasant. It was certainly non-alcoholic.

We then had a long address, which was in the medium's ownvoice and dialect, but purported to come from the high control.My growing deafness made me miss some of it, but what I heard wasdignified and impressive. After speaking for nearly an hour, asecond control took possession. He was more smiling and homelybut less majestic and dignified than the higher one. The latter,by the way, unbent in a very charming way when he blessed alittle boy who was present, saying, "I remember when I was alittle boy myself once." The second control gave messagesrelating to worldly things to several of the circle, who receivedthem with deep reverence. They assured me that they never failedto be true. He spoke of conditions at death. "The dark valley onthe other side waits for all. I am in the glorious city at theend. Those who are prepared by knowledge, as you are, soon passthe Valley. But some linger very long."

Then after some ceremonies which I may not describe the séanceended, and Mrs. Bolton, the plain, homely, uneducated Lancashirewoman, came back into her own body. What is one to say of such aperformance? It was against all my prepossessions, for I have adeep distrust of ritual and form and sacraments, and here wereall these things; yet they were solemn and moving, and nothingcan exceed the absolute faith of these men and women. Their faithis founded, as they assure me, upon long experience in which theyhave seen miracle after miracle, including materializations ofthese high personages. I cannot claim that I saw anythingevidential with my own eyes, and yet I am convinced that myinformant was speaking truth so far as he saw it, when he claimedthat he poured water into the chalice and that it had beentransformed. It all left me with mixed feelings, but theconviction that I had been on the fringe of something very sacredand solemn was predominant. It is true that these high Spiritsoccasionally used Lancashire speech, but as one of them said, "Wecannot open brain-cells which have never been opened. We have touse what is there."

When I considered the wonderful psychical phenomena of the onecircle seen with my own eyes and the religious atmosphere of theother, I came away with the conclusion that Winnipeg stands veryhigh among the places we have visited for its psychicpossibilities. There are several Spiritualist Churches and anumber of local mediums of good repute.

A long spell of travel through the country which was prairiein its first part and forest in its second brought us to PortArthur, which with its twin town Fort William, only four milesaway, marks the head of the great chain of lakes. Long before onereaches it one sees the mountainous wheat elevators in which muchof the western harvest is stored until it can be shippedeastwards. They have been called the "Castles of Commerce," andfrom a distance they look like a combination of the great keep ofa Norman fortress, with the pillars of Luxor built into it. Thereis one which is alone sufficient to hold the bread-supply of thewhole population of the United Kingdom for five days.

When one reaches Port Arthur one feels that one is at last intouch with ancient Canada, the Canada of Parkman, for when thatgreat historian wished to describe the extreme edge of the humanworld in those old days he speaks always of Thunder Bay. "Thetribes were all up, from the Iroquois of the British Border tothe wild Ojibbeways of Thunder Bay." This curve of Lake Superioris Thunder Bay, and up yonder on the wooded bill are the remainsof the mission which was planted so long ago by the heroic Jesuitpioneers, who at the cost of their own lives, brought the firstcivilization into the wilderness.

It is surprising how wild the country is quite close to thisgreat inland port. We made a very adventurous motor journey inthe afternoon to see the lake among the mountains whence thewater-supply is obtained. It is only a few miles off, and yet sodifficult of access that I was assured that very few of theinhabitants had ever visited it. There, lying among virgin woods,the moose, the deer, the bear, and the beaver are common objects.We saw nothing but small game, and yet it was an excitingexperience—the more exciting when the motor broke down andI had only just time to get back to deliver my evening lecture.It was touch and go, but all's well that ends well.

It was a long stretch from Port Arthur to Montreal, but againthe amenities of the National Railway made it easy for us, andthe two days of confinement were not unduly unpleasant. Westopped for some hours at Toronto, and had time to renew ouracquaintance with that magnificent city, which seems to havetaken to giddy ways, for she has erected an enormous glitteringsort of Coney Island place along the lake-side, which was in fullswing as we passed, with many thousands of people on swings andswitchbacks and other diversions. If money paid to the saloonsdiminished the family standard, then it seems to me that theseprofitless excitements must have the same effect; yet it must beadmitted that the monotony of modern economic life does call forsome stimulant, if it be only taken in reason.

It was a joy to feel the glamour of history once more as weentered Montreal. On the first day we ascended the mountain andlooked down on what is one of the most wonderful views in theworld—and I can speak now with some knowledge. At your feetlies the old grey town, which is spreading fast upon eitherflank, and which is impressive in its wealth of domes and spires.Beyond is the glorious St. Lawrence, studded with green islands,and winding east and west as far as eye can reach, while thoselow hills and forests upon the far southern skyline are over thefrontier in the States. It is no mushroom city this. It containsbuildings which would be considered venerable and historical evenby a European standard. Its actual foundation was in 1642. Thatwas the year when King and Parliament had definitely drawn theirswords and stood face to face to fight it out. In France thedynasty of the great Cardinals was in progress. In America theVirginians were beginning to make themselves comfortable and toexport, as well as consume, their rum and tobacco. The Dutch werebuilding up something on the island of Manhattan, soon to becomeNew York. The Pilgrim Fathers were working like beavers tomaintain themselves on the barren shores of New England, as bleakand hard as their own religion. The Spaniards were swarming overthe south. And here, under our eyes, as we stand on Mount Royal,we could have seen eighteen men landing from a small ship whichlay out in the stream. The leader, Maisonneuve, unbuckles hisgreat sword, takes off his broad-brimmed hat, and kneels down atthe river edge, with his faithful seventeen behind him. That wasthe birth of Montreal.

One feels at once in this city that vibrant sense of religiousearnestness and fierce self-assertion which the dominant CatholicChurch always brings with it. It is logical enough, for if yourreligion is really and literally true, then it must predominateover everything else. There is a good deal of virtue, however, inthe "if." On our first day there was an assembly of PapalZouaves, who marched past the hotel, some twelve hundred of them,well-uniformed, well-armed, led by very smart officers, andheaded by the flag of France. I was sorry to observe, however,that very few of the breasts of the men were decorated with thosemedals which would show that when France and Belgium were reallyat death's door they had made some sacrifice to save them. TheFrance of Canada is the France of Louis XIV and of Madame deMaintenon, of ruffling seigneurs, of intriguing abbes, and ofpersecuted Huguenots. She has no use for the France of freethought and free institutions. This became very clear in the hourof doom. On the same day that we saw the brave show of theZouaves, who are ready to fight for a temporal power which nolonger exists, we saw also two lines of gloomy-looking men whowalked in single file on either side of the street in longprocession. These were Orange men, and represented that reactionwhich an aggressive religion will always call forth.

We drove up the beautiful shores of the St. Lawrence, and sawthe villages and villas which adorn them. One small house ofstone was pointed out in which Tom Moore dwelt and where he wrotethe "Canadian Boat Song." No medallion marks it. This I haveendeavoured to amend by a letter to the press. I must confessthat I never knew before that Moore had been to Canada. There isthe stone house also of La Salle, the intrepid man who firstexplored the Great Lakes. It is the only building left of the oldLachine. The rest went up in fire on that dreadful night of rainand torture when the Iroquois sacked the hamlet, and the burghersof Montreal heard the cries of the victims and saw the distantglare of the fires in which they were consumed.

A singular case of poltergeist haunting came under mynotice whilst at Montreal. It had occurred to a couple, the manan experienced journalist, the wife a rather nervous lady ofmiddle age. They lived alone, their only child having gone outinto the world. These people were haunted by a very active andmischievous but at the same time harmless spirit or spirits. Thebox of bricks which had been their child's toy was dragged outand fantastic buildings erected, which were put up again as soonas dismantled. When one of these buildings was photographed, aqueer little mannikin figure came out in the photograph behindthe bricks, and beside it what looks like a female head. Thereseemed to be two haunters, for presently direct writing began toappear upon pieces of paper scattered over the house. I examinedthese and found distinctly two scripts, one of a grown-up personand the other of a child, which corresponded with the photograph.A picture of a house was also drawn, an extraordinary high, thinerection of twelve stories, with "the Middlesex House" writtenunderneath. It was very well drawn. Occasionally the pranks wereof a less harmless nature. The electric lights were switched offat untoward moments, and the pictures were stripped from thewalls. Twice the husband was assaulted by pillows until hisincredulity had been buffeted out of him. Prayer seemed of noavail. Unhappily it seldom is in such cases. I have notes of onewhere a large fur hearthrug was the centre of the disturbance. Apriest was brought in to exorcise the force, and whilst he was inthe midst of his exorcism the rug sprang at him and enveloped hishead and shoulders, so that he ran terrified from the house. Oneis dealing with a mischievous and rather malicious child, andreason together with kindness is the only weapon. In thisparticular case at Montreal the couple were finally compelled toabandon the house. The haunting seemed to be local, for it didnot follow them.

I had not expected large audiences at Montreal, as the heatwas great, and as the community is largely Roman Catholic, and ofthe opinion that the psychic phenomena which occur within its ownranks are saintly, while those experienced by others arediabolical. However, the two lectures were splendidly attended,and the second was quite full. It was my last appearance in thisseries, and so it was rather a solemn moment for our littleparty. I took the occasion to thank with all my heart theCanadian and American Press and public for the splendid way inwhich they had treated me.

I had spoken altogether about forty times, though only thirty-five were advertised lectures. I had travelled, allowing for myreturn journey, just 15,000 miles. The lectures I had done inless than a hundred days, and without an hour of sickness or evenof weakness or depression. At my age the record was a good one,and I am well convinced that I was sustained in the task. I wasforced to be an abstainer, and I am always spare in my diet, witha preference for vegetarian food, which aids one in endurance. Onthe top of my work I had kept so full a diary that this volumewas practically all written from day to day as the events passed.If it were not for that it would be a wild jumble of memories inmy mind. There can be little merit in a narrative so rapidlyscrawled, but I am convinced that the day will come when anaccount of the psychic condition of this era will be of deepinterest to our descendants, who will reap what we have sown.

We found the Province of Quebec, like every other spot wetouched, divided on the ethics of the liquor question. They agreewith everyone else that the saloon or public-house should beabolished. They are, however, more liberal in their views thanany place north of Mexico, and as a consequence one can orderbeer or wine with one's meals at the hotels. One cannot orderspirits, but these can be bought at Government establishmentswithout any difficulty, though I fancy the quantity is limited.Our humble order of a single bottle cost exactly a pound, but itwas of the best. There were no cardboard formalities, and in thisthe system differs from British Columbia, and also in the wine-and-beer licence to hotels. In Manitoba they have just had apopular vote on the subject, and the result is in favour ofGovernment sale, but no hotel licences. If we cannot hit upon agood system at home, it is not for want of having everyconceivable combination to choose from.

When Montreal had been given a full ventilation of oursubject, both by my words and by a sympathetic Press, our tourwas done. I cannot imagine anything which could have been addedto make it a more complete success. I did not, of course, expectto make sudden conversions although there were actually a goodmany such. My own perception of the truth had come slowly, and Imust allow other people the same pace. I had three very definiteobjects. One was to help and confirm those who were alreadySpiritualists. The second was to aid those who had some knowledgealready, and to make it easier for them to realize what thatknowledge would lead to. The third was to present our case tothose who knew nothing about it, and to persuade them that therereally was something there which could not be answered by jokesor by sneers, and that it was worthy of study and attention. Ineach of these objects I felt that I had thoroughly succeeded.When I contrasted the tone of the Press and the greaterintelligence shown by the public on the occasion of my secondvisit, I could not doubt that the promises made by our unseenguides had been amply fulfilled.

We were now at a loose end, for it was more than three weeksbefore our departure and the cities were unendurable at this timeof year. But an admirable place for rest and recuperation hadbeen provided for us. I have already mentioned a Mr. Holley, ofDetroit, who was interested in the Jonson Circle. Mr. Holley isat the head of the firm which makes the special carburettors forthe Ford cars. We had corresponded over psychic matters, and nowhe showed his practical interest by motoring over with hischarming wife from Loon Lake House, a holiday resort in the northof New York State, and attending my final lecture. His suggestionwas that we should now take rooms at Loon Lake House, which wewere very happy to do. On July 12th we were over the Americanfrontier, and late that night we had reached the very remarkableestablishment where I write these lines.

XIII. — THE FINAL STRETCH

Loon Lake—a Remarkable Woman—George M.Holley—Spiritualistic Teaching—New York—JohnMcK. Bowman—Final Séance—Central PoliceHeadquarters—The Adriatic

Imagine on the banks of a large and beautiful lake, and amidsta huge forest, a straggling wooden hotel with annexes which markits growth. In the wood around are many comfortable bungalows,each of them with sleeping-room for a family, and with a sitting-room. Folk in the bungalows come up to the central establishmentfor all meals. So long as you are in your own bungalow, you areabsolutely undisturbed.

Such is the general idea, but it is in the details that thevirtue lies. The lake provides fishing, boating, canoeing, andswimming, all very welcome to this amphibious family. There arehorses and beautiful rides. There are golf and tennis at the verydoor. Above all, in spite of the fact that there are severalhundred guests, of the very best American class, there is noformality whatever. It is there that I see a welcome differencefrom anything which I have seen at home. A lady in the eveningmay wear her most beautiful frock and she is quite in thepicture. On the other hand, a man may wear the flannels or golfcostume which he has worn all day, and that also is perfectlynormal. Dinner-jackets are taboo. Thus the stupid formalitieswhich take up so much of our time are done away with and life isreduced to its proper simplicity.

The proprietor and creator of this paradise is certainly oneof the most remarkable persons whom I have met in my travels, andyet it would be difficult to represent upon paper the effectwhich she has produced upon everyone who comes into contact withher. She is a little old lady, very quiet and demure, remindingme of Lady Dorothy Nevill in her general suggestion of mid-Victorian, quiet efficiency. She says little, but what she saysis clear and prompt. Nothing is done in the whole vastestablishment which does not come from her. No room can beengaged without her knowledge and assent, yet she never fusses,and is always the same gentle, inscrutable figure. There is greatkindness and common sense in the little old body. "There are noDon'ts here," says she to the children. One man, with greatdiffidence, brought a huge dog, which came up silently beside himand looked over the counter of the bureau. The owner, unaware ofthe dog's presence, was immensely complimented when the littleold lady said, as she advanced, "No nobler head has ever lookedover this counter." Animals and children they are alwayswelcome.

On the other hand she is a disciplinarian, and is acertificate of character if you are a habitué of Loon Lake House.If anyone is objectionable. she says gently, "I fear that LoonLake House will not welcome you any more." That is final, and theoffender departs. "Oh, but that is what we wish to avoid," shesaid to one man who declared that he was coming again. It is avery healthy influence, and there will never be any scandals oranything but honest good fellow-ship at Loon Lake, thanks toquiet, masterful little Mrs. Mary Chase.

Of course, I gave a lecture at Loon Lake. Do what I will or gowhere I will, I cannot escape that. There seemed to be a verygeneral interest in the subject, and Mr. George Holley is asplendid addition to our cause, for America badly needs leaders,and he has the mental qualifications which would make him one.though it is the scientific side of the question which interestshim at present. I expect that under his influence Detroit maybecome one of the centres of the movement.

So at last the days were fulfilled and our second tour inAmerica drew to a close. I write these words on the day before weleave this earthly paradise and descend to the heat and noise ofNew York, whence in a week the good ship Adriatic willbear us homeward. I see no immediate prospect of any rest,however, as an International Spiritualist Congress is summonedfor Liege in Belgium and thither we must go.

I leave America feeling that there is a quiet ferment going onthroughout the whole vast country, and that some great man andfinally some great thing will arise out of it. Mankind cannot goon indefinitely envisaging facts which are as clear as the sun atnoonday, and yet acting as if they did not exist. It is anabsolute fact that every sort of evidence, physical and mental,exists to show quite clearly that the soul survives the bodyunchanged and can communicate back to us. My own experiences havemade me as sure of that as I am of my own present existence. Itis an absolute fact that when we do communicate with theseemancipated souls they all tell us of a fate very different fromany which we learn from the Churches, and that they flood us withposthumous knowledge which is most reasonable, most consoling,and most consistent, though it comes from so many sources. Ifthis knowledge is correct, as so many of us believe, then who canpossibly deny that it constitutes the greatest guidance which Godhas sent for two thousand years to His bewildered children? Ithas not come as we might have expected, nor is it such as wecould have foreseen; but God's ways are not our ways, and thereare surely solid reasons at the back of it all.

One question we may fearlessly ask, and that is, Whatreligious revelation in the world had ever one-tenth of thesanction which this one has? We draw our knowledge not fromHebrew prophets, who lived three thousand years ago underdifferent conditions and using a different tongue, but we get itdirect ourselves either from our own loved ones who have justpassed over, or from high teachers who give their credentials.These teachers do not preach mysteries or demand impossiblefaith, but they tell us what is consistent, reasonable andbeautiful, and they accompany their teachings with signs ofpreternatural power which we can ourselves see, and to which manythousands of us testify. Has not this, then, all the signs of aGod-given revelation to a most material, stupid, undeservingworld, sunk in indolence and money-grubbing, with the spiritualfaculties almost atrophied for want of use. But the central glowis still there, and it is our task to clear off the ashes andtend the sacred flame once more. If we succeed, well and good. Ifwe do not—if foolish men continue to perpetuate thatorganized selfishness which now constitutes the world, and tohave faith in external form instead of internal spirit, thenthere is a chastening close at hand which will make the world-war, the first stroke of the scourge, seem insignificant. So thevoices tell us, and they do not lie.

A very short epilogue will finish the record of ouradventures. From Loon Lake we descended upon torrid New York, andmust certainly have looked a strange band of wanderers. I carrieda new form of ouija-board under my arm, which an inventive geniushad sent me. Billy bore a sort of tureen in front of her in whichswam a live tortoise brought from San Francisco, Denis carriedthe head of a wild sheep picked up in Catalina Island, whileMalcolm bore a great box with a hundred varieties of moths caughtin his travels. Our entrance caused a sensation in thefashionable Biltmore Hotel.

I have already stated that Mr. John McK. Bowman, the Presidentof this and many other hotels, was sympathetic to my psychicviews, and had shown us wonderful hospitality, putting his ownrooms at our disposal. I was able to make him some small returnnow, for learning that Miss Besinnet was passing through on herway to Canada, a séance was rapidly arranged and Bowman had forthe first time the experience of the marvels of this lady'smediumship. For three hours we had every conceivable evidencefrom those whom the world regards as "dead"—we heard them,we saw them, we had messages from them, we had manifestations oftheir physical power, which culminated in their raising the heavytable into the air. As we came out, dazed with our experience,into the brilliant Fifth Avenue with its hurrying crowds, I saidto Bowman, "Is it not marvellous to think of the ignorance ofthese people as to the possibilities of the world that they arein!" Exaltavit humiles, and there is many a humble workerwho has a fuller grasp of these vital matters than the savant orthe man of the world.

I spent one interesting morning at the New York policeheadquarters, where I made the acquaintance of Mr. Enright, thecourteous and very efficient chief. The police are now a creditand not a discredit to the city, and it is to the Commissionerthat the change is mainly due. He is a broad-minded man, and hasrefused to allow himself to be an instrument for the persecutionof our people. When at headquarters I looked over the rooms ofDr. Carleton Simon, who is in charge of the Anti-dope Department.The record of every known addict is filed in his office. It is agrowing and a desperate evil, and Dr. Simon is of opinion that wehave taken it too lightly in England, and that it has got afirmer grip in this country than we are aware of. It is like somegreat lowering cloud coming down upon the world and bringingforth tribulations in its train. God knows we have enoughalready.

And so at last, our mission done, we went on August 4th aboardthe Adriatic, captained by an old friend, CommanderBeadnell. It was an uneventful voyage with, I need not say, apsychic lecture sandwiched into the middle of it. There washardly an incident to recall, save that a thresher whale swambeside the ship, almost touching it, for some miles outsideQueens-town. On August 13th we were on English soil once more,and the second American adventure was at an end.

APPENDIX
FURTHER NOTE UPON THE JONSON SÉANCE

I have mentioned in the text that a competent observer, Mr.George M. Holley, a well-known business man of Detroit, who wasnot at that time a Spiritualist, experimented with Jonson. Oncomparing our notes and our conclusions, we found that we were invery close agreement. He shared my view that in order to getconclusive proofs it would be necessary to use a cabinet whichhad not a back door, however securely the latter might seem to beoccluded.

It is only fair to the Jonsons, however, to state that thiscondition appears to have been completely fulfilled during thelong series of sittings which Admiral Usborne Moore, a veryexperienced observer, had with these mediums in 1909. Hisexperiments were checked by Mr. Yaryan, who had been chief of thesecret police under the Grant Government, and who had watchedthese mediums carefully for years and assured him that they weregenuine.

In these seances Admiral Moore tells us that "the cabinet isabout seven yards from the top of the staircase in one corner ofthe room... It is practically impossible for confederates to comethis way, for they would have to pass the sitters to reach thecabinet." Under these conditions he experienced exactly similarphenomena to those which Mr. Holley and I independently observedin California, so that it is reasonable to conclude that theoccluded door played no part in the matter.

Mr. Yaryan the detective said: "The forms that manifest to thesitter each have a peculiar gait and movement of the limbs. Ifthe conditions are not good, you may not see the features plainlyenough to identify your friend by looking at his or her face, butyou know them by distinctive movements, dress, and carriage."(This applies exactly to what I have said of my mother'sappearance in the text.) "Is it conceivable," Yaryan continues,"that Jonson can produce enough confederates to imitate thesefeatures at every séance?...How can we account for the unerringcertainty with which the proper form, dress, and movements aremanifested? The expense and the difficulty of finding thehistrionic ability in the neighbourhood forbid the theory ofpersonation. The expense alone would prohibit such an idea."

Finally summing up his impressions, the Admiral says: "It ishardly necessary for me to say that the Jonsons have been accusedof fraud like all other professional mediums, good, bad, andindifferent. I have never heard of any instance where a definitecharge has been brought and proved. All I know of are the usualslanders by other competing mediums, by well-intentioned friendsof the sitters, and writings, private and public, by critics ofthe arm-chair order. These latter are quite safe. They know theywill not be prosecuted for libel... Any cowardly ink-slinger canassail any medium with impunity."

He adds: "Not one of the forms looks mortal. The faces werenot unpleasing, but the features, expression, and colour weredistinctly uncanny." That was also my impression. While endorsingthe mediumship of the Jonsons to this extent and while certainthat what I saw myself was genuine, I would make it clear that noone can give a permanent certificate of character to any medium.There are lapses of psychic power, which is essentiallyintermittent in character, and no one can say in advance how farany man might be tempted to substitute pretence for reality.

As to the actual mode of operation in these materializations,I do not see that we have advanced any further than the viewspropounded by early investigators in the sixties, though we haveadded some long words to the dictionary. The spiritual forcesgive and always have given explanations which have not beenimproved upon by our earthly science. These explanations are thata vapour which used to be called animal magnetism or odyllicforce, but is now called ectoplasm, issues from certain speciallyendowed persons, in this case the Jonsons; that it is collectedin a confined space, the cabinet, by the presiding spirit-control; that the spirits wishing to manifest themselves havebeen already assembled; that a simulacrum of each earth-form isbuilt up in succession by the experienced control in the shape ofan ectoplasmic mould, this simulacrum being more or less like theoriginal; that the manifesting spirit then inhabits its ownsimulacrum for a longer or shorter period, using it as atemporary body; that it is then dissolved and a fresh form builtup; and that finally the medium is exhausted by the constantemission and so the proceedings cease. This is the teaching whichwe get from the other side, and I do not know anything whichcovers the facts more completely.

THE END