JOUNTWAY LIBRARY THE WANDERING HC 36FM Ý THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE On the Life Hereafter THE NEW REVELATION THE VITAL MESSAGE A History of the Great War THE BRITISH CAMPAIGN IN FRANCE AND FLANDERS-5 Vols. Poems THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH Novels and Stories DANGER! And Other Stories THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW HIS LAST BOW Some Later Reminiscences of Sherlock Holmes NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY Photo: Stirling, Melbourne. ON THE WARPATH IN AUSTRALIA, 1920-21. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST BY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE Author of "The New Revelation,” “The Vital Message," "A History of the Great War," etc. ILLUSTRATED G NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BOSTON MEDICAL LIBRARY IN THE FRANCIS A. COUNTWAY LIBRARY OF MEDICINE TO MY WIFE THIS MEMORIAL OF A JOURNEY WHICH HER HELP AND PRESENCE CHANGED FROM A DUTY TO A PLEASURE A. C. D. July 18, 1921. CONTENTS PAGI 15 CHAPTER I . . . . . . . . . . . The inception of the enterprise.—The Merthyr Séance.-Experience of British lectures.-Call from Australia.—The Holborn luncheon.-Re- markable testimony to communication.—Is indi- vidual proof necessary ?-Excursion to Exeter.- Can spiritualists continue to be Christians ?- Their views on Atonement. The party on the "Naldera.” 29 CHAPTER II . . . . . . . . . . . Gibraltar.-Spanish right versus British might.- Relics of Barbary Rovers, and of German mili- tarists.-Ichabod !-Senegal Infantry.—No peace for the world.-Religion on a liner.-Differences of vibration.—The Bishop of Kwang-Si.-Re- ligion in China.—Whisky in excelsis.-France's masterpiece.-British errors.-A procession of giants. — The invasion of Egypt. — Tropical weather.—The Russian Horror.-An Indian experiment. — Aden. — Bombay. — The Lambeth encyclical.--A great novelist.-The Mango trick. - Snakes. — The Catamarans. — The Robber Castles of Ceylon.-Doctrine of Reincarnation.- Whales and Whalers.- Perth.—The Bight. 62 CHAPTER III . . . . . . . . . . Mr. Hughes' letter of welcome-Challenges.-Mr. Carlyle Smythe.-The Adelaide Press.-The great drought.—The wine industry.-Clairvoyance.- Meeting with Bell-chambers. The first lecture. [vii] CONTENTS PAGL Its effect.—The Religious lecture.—The illus- trated lecture.—Premonitions.—The spot light.- Mr. Thomas's account of the incident.-Corre- spondence.-Adelaide doctors.-A day in the Bush.— The Mallee fowl.-Sussex in Australia.- Farewell to Adelaide. 84 CHAPTER IV . . . . . . . . . . Speculations on Paul and his Master.- Arrival at Melbourne.--Attack in the Argus.-Partial press boycott.-Strength of the movement.-The Prince of Wales.- Victorian football.-Rescue Circle in Melbourne.—Burke and Wills' statue.-Success of the lectures.-Reception at the Auditorium.- Luncheon of the British Empire League.-Mr. Ryan's experience.—The Federal Government.- Mr. Hughes' personality.–The mediumship of Charles Bailey.-His alleged exposure.-His re- markable record.-A record sitting.-The Indian nest.-A remarkable lecture.- Arrival of Lord Forster. The future of the Empire.-Kindness of Australians. - Prohibition. — Horse-racing. - Roman Catholic policy. CHAPTER V . . . . . . . . . . . 112 More English than the English.-A day in the Bush.—Immigration.-A case of spirit return.- A séance. — Geelong. — The lava plain. — Good- nature of General Ryrie.-Bendigo.-Down a gold mine. - Prohibition - Continuance. — Mrs. Knight MacLellan. - Nerrim. — A wild drive. — Electric shearing.–Rich sheep stations.-Cocka- too farmers.-Spinnifex and Malee.-Rabbits.- The great marsh. 132 CHAPTER VI. . . . . . . . . . The Melbourne Cup. — Psychic healing. – Mr. J. Bloomfield. — My own experience. - Direct heal- (viii] CONTENTS PAGI ing.-Chaos and Ritual.-Government Ball.—The Rescue Circle again.-Sitting with Mrs. Harris. -A good test case.--Australian botany.—The land of myrtles.-English cricket team.-Great final meeting in Melbourne. 146 CHAPTER VII . . . . . . . . . . Great reception at Sydney.-Importance of Sydney. - Journalistic luncheon.-A psychic epidemic. Gregory.-Barracking.–Town Hall reception. Regulation of Spiritualism.-An ether apport.- Surfing at Manly -A challenge.--Bigoted op- ponents.-A disgruntled photographer.-Outing in the harbour.-Dr. Mildred Creed.-Leon Gel- lert. — Norman Lindsay. — Bishop Leadbeater.- Our relations with Theosophy.-Incongruities of H.P.B.-Of D.D. Home. CHAPTER VIII . . . . . . . . . . 169 Dangerous fog.-The six photographers.-Comic advertisements. - Beauties of Auckland. – A Christian clergyman.-Shadows in our American relations.—The Gallipoli Stone.-Stevenson and the Germans.-Position of De Rougement.--Mr. Clement Wragge.-Atlantean theories.-A strange psychic.-Wellington the windy.-A literary oasis. -A Maori Séance.--Presentation. 189 CHAPTER IX . . . . . . . . . . The Anglican Colony.-Psychic dangers.-The learned dog.-Absurd newspaper controversy.-A back- ward community. The Maori tongue.-Their origin. — Their treatment by the Empire. - A fiasco.The Pa of Kaiopoi.—Dr. Thacker.-Sir Joseph Kinsey.-A generous collector.-Scott and Amundsen.—Dunedin.-A genuine medium.- Evidence.-The Shipping strike.—Sir Oliver. Farewell. [ix] CONTENTS PAGE 212 CHAPTER X . . . . . . . . . . . 212 Christian origins.—Militarism.--Astronomy.-Exer- cising boats.-Bad news from home.-Futile strikes.-Labour Party.-The blue wilderness.- Journey to Brisbane.—Warm reception.-Friends and Foes.-Psychic experience of Dr. Doyle.- Birds. — Criticism on Melbourne. — Spiritualist Church. — Ceremony. — Sir Matthew Nathan. — Alleged repudiation of Queensland.—Billy tea.- The bee farm.-Domestic service in Australia.- Hon. John Fihilly.-Psychic photograph by the State photographer.—The “Orsova." CHAPTER XI . . . . . . . . . 242 Medlow Bath.-Jenolan Caves.-Giant skeletons. Mrs. Foster Turner's mediumship.-A wonder- ful prophecy.-Final results.—Third sitting with Bailey.-Failure of State Control.-Retrospec- tion.-Melbourne presentation.-Crooks.—Lecture at Perth.-West Australia.- Rabbits, sparrows and sharks. CHAPTER XII . . . . . . . . . . 205 Pleasing letters.–Visit to Candy.-Snake and Fly- ing Fox. — Buddha's shrine. — The Malaya. — Naval digression. — Indian trader. – Elephanta. -Sea snakes.-Chained to a tombstone.-Berlin's escape.-Lord Chetwynd.-Lecture in the Red Sea.-Marseilles. CHAPTER XIII . . . . . . . . . . 200 The Institut Metaphysique. Lecture in French. Wonderful musical improviser.-Camille Flam- marion.—Test of materialized hand.—Last ditch of materialism.-Sitting with Mrs. Bisson's medium, Eva.-Round the Aisne battlefields.-A tragic intermezzo.-Anglo-French Rugby match. -Madame Briffaud's clairvoyance. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST "Aggressive fighting for the right is the noblest sport the world affords." THEODORE ROOSEVELT. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST CHAPTER I The inception of the enterprise.—The Merthyr Séance. Experience of British lectures.-Call from Australia.- The Holborn luncheon.-Remarkable testimony to communication.—Is individual proof necessary ?- Excursion to Exeter.-Can spiritualists continue to be Christians ?-Their views on Atonement. The party on the "Naldera.” This is an account of the wanderings of a spiritual- ist, geographical and speculative. Should the reader have no interest in psychic things—if indeed any human being can be so foolish as not to be interested in his own nature and fate, then this is the place to put the book down. It were better also to end the matter now if you have no patience with a go-as-you-please style of narrative, which founds itself upon the con- viction that thought may be as interesting as action, and which is bound by its very nature to be intensely per- sonal. I write a record of what absorbs my mind which may be very different from that which appeals to yours. But if you are content to come with me upon these terms then let us start with my apologies in advance for the pages which may bore you, and with my hopes that some may compensate you by pleasure or by profit. [15] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST I write these lines with a pad upon my knee, heaving upon the long roll of the Indian Ocean, running large and grey under a grey streaked sky, with the rain- swept hills of Ceylon, just one shade greyer, lining the Eastern skyline. So under many difficulties it will be carried on, which may explain if it does not excuse any slurring of a style, which is at its best but plain English. There was one memorable night when I walked forth with my head throbbing and my whole frame quivering from the villa of Mr. Southey at Merthyr. Behind me the brazen glare of Dowlais iron-works lit up the sky, and in front twinkled the many lights of the Welsh town. For two hours my wife and I had sat within listening to the whispering voices of the dead, voices which are so full of earnest life, and of desperate en- deavours to pierce the barrier of our dull senses. They had quivered and wavered around us, giving us pet names, sweet sacred things, the intimate talk of the olden time. Graceful lights, signs of spirit power had hovered over us in the darkness. It was a different and a wonderful world. Now with those voices still haunting our memories we had slipped out into the material world—a world of glaring iron-works and of twinkling cottage windows. As I looked down on it all I grasped my wife's hand in the darkness and I cried aloud, “My God, if they only knew-if they could only know!” Perhaps in that cry, wrung from my very soul, lay the inception of my voyage to the other side of the world. The wish to serve was strong upon us both. God had given us wonderful signs, and they were surely not for ourselves alone. [16] HOW THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST I had already done the little I might. From the moment that I had understood the overwhelming im- portance of this subject, and realised how utterly it must change and chasten the whole thought of the world when it is whole-heartedly accepted, I felt it good to work in the matter and understood that all other work which I had ever done, or could ever do, was as nothing compared to this. Therefore, from the time that I had finished the history of the Great War on which I was engaged, I was ready to turn all my remaining energies of voice or hand to the one great end. At first I had little of my own to narrate, and my task was simply to expound the spiritual philosophy as worked out by the thoughts and experiences of others, showing folk, so far as I was able, that the superficial and ignorant view taken of it in the ordinary newspapers did not touch the heart of the matter. My own experiences were limited and inconclusive, so that it was the evidence of others which I quoted. But as I went forward signs were given in profusion to me also, such signs as were far above all error or deception, so that I was able to speak with that more vibrant note which comes not from belief or faith, but from personal experience and knowledge. I had found that the won- derful literature of Spiritualism did not reach the people, and that the press was so full of would-be jocosities and shallow difficulties that the public were utterly misled. Only one way was left, which was to speak to the people face to face. This was the task upon which I set forth, and it had led me to nearly every considerable city of Great Britain from Aberdeen to Torquay. Everywhere I found interest, though it [17] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST varied from the heavier spirit of the sleepy cathedral towns to the brisk reality of centres of life and work like Glasgow or Wolverhampton. Many a time my halls were packed, and there were as many outside as inside the building. I have no eloquence and make profession of none, but I am audible and I say no more than I mean and can prove, so that my audiences felt that it was indeed truth so far as I could see it, which I conveyed. Their earnestness and receptiveness were my great help and reward in my venture. Those who had no knowledge of what my views were assembled often outside my halls, waving banners and distributing tracts, but never once in the course of addressing 150,000 people, did I have disturbance in my hall. I tried, while never flinching from truth, to put my views in such a way as to hurt no one's feelings, and although I have had clergymen of many denominations as my chairmen, I have had thanks from them and no remon- strance. My enemies used to follow and address meet- ings, as they had every right to do, in the same towns. It is curious that the most persistent of these enemies were Jesuits on the one side and Evangelical sects of the Plymouth Brethren type upon the other. I suppose the literal interpretation of the Old Testament was the common bond. However, this is digression, and when the digres- sions are taken out of this book there will not be much left. I get back to the fact that the overwhelming effect of the Merthyr Séance and of others like it, made my wife and myself feel that when we had done what we could in Britain we must go forth to further fields. Then came the direct invitation from Spiritual bodies [18] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST in Australia. I had spent some never-to-be-forgotten days with Australian troops at the very crisis of the war. My heart was much with them. If my message could indeed bring consolation to bruised hearts and to bewildered minds—and I had boxes full of letters to show that it did—then to whom should I carry it rather than to those who had fought so splendidly and lost so heavily in the common cause? I was a little weary also after three years of incessant controversy, speak- ing often five times a week, and continually endeavour- ing to uphold the cause in the press. The long voyage presented attractions, even if there was hard work at the end of it. There were difficulties in the way. Three children, boys of eleven and nine, with a girl of seven, all devotedly attached to their home and their parents, could not easily be left behind. If they came a maid was also necessary. The pressure upon me of corre- spondence and interviews would be so great that my old friend and secretary, Major Wood, would be also needed. Seven of us in all therefore, and a cheque of sixteen hundred pounds drawn for our return tickets, apart from outfit, before a penny could be entered on the credit side. However, Mr. Carlyle Smythe, the best agent in Australia, had taken the matter up and I felt that we were in good hands. The lectures would be numerous, controversies severe, the weather at its hottest, and my own age over sixty. But there are compensating forces, and I was constantly aware of their presence. I may count our adventures as actually beginning from the luncheon which was given us in farewell a week or so before our sailing by the Spiritu- alists of England. Harry Engholm, most unselfish of [19] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST men, and a born organiser among our most unorganised crowd, had the matter in hand, so it was bound to be a success. There was sitting room at the Holborn Res- taurant for 290 people, and it was all taken up three weeks before the event. The secretary said that he could have filled the Albert Hall. It was an impressive example of the solidity of the movement showing itself for the moment round us, but really round the cause. There were peers, doctors, clergymen, officers of both services, and, above all, those splendid lower middle class folk, if one talks in our material earth terms, who are the spiritual peers of the nation. Many profes- sional mediums were there also, and I was honoured by their presence, for as I said in my remarks, I consider that in these days of doubt and sorrow, a genuine pro fessional medium is the most useful member of the whole community. Alas! how few they are! Four photographic mediums do I know in all Britain, with about twelve physical phenomena mediums and as many really reliable clairvoyants. What are these among so many? But there are many amateur me- diums of various degrees, and the number tends to increase. Perhaps there will at last be an angel to every church as in the days of John. I see dimly the time when two congregations, the living and those who have passed on, shall move forward together with the medium angel as the bridge between them. It was a wonderful gathering, and I only wish I could think that my own remarks rose to the height of the occasion. However, I did my best and spoke from my heart. I told how the Australian visit had arisen, and I claimed that the message that I would carry was [20] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST the most important that the mind of man could con- ceive, implying as it did the practical abolition of death, and the reinforcement of our present religious views by the actual experience of those who have made the change from the natural to the spiritual bodies. Speak- ing of our own experiences, I mentioned that my wife and I had actually spoken face to face beyond all ques- tion or doubt with eleven friends or relatives who had passed over, their direct voices being in each case audible, and their conversation characteristic and evi- dential-in some cases marvellously so. Then with a sudden impulse I called upon those in the audience who were prepared to swear that they had had a similar experience to stand up and testify. It seemed for a moment as if the whole audience were on their feet. The Times next day said 250 out of 290 and I am pre- pared to accept that estimate. Men and women, of all professions and social ranks—I do not think that I exaggerated when I said that it was the most remark- able demonstration that I had ever seen and that noth- ing like it had ever occurred in the City of London. It was vain for those journals who tried to minimise it to urge that in a Baptist or a Unitarian assembly all would have stood up to testify to their own faith. No doubt they would, but this was not a case of faith, it was a case of bearing witness to fact. There were people of all creeds, Church, dissent, Unitarian and ex- materialists. They were testifying to an actual objec- tive experience as they might have testified to having seen the lions in Trafalgar Square. If such a public agreement of evidence does not establish a fact then it is indeed impossible, as Professor Challis remarked [21] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST long ago, to prove a thing by any human testimony whatever. I confess that I was amazed. When I remember how many years it was before I myself got any final personal proofs I should have thought that the vast majority of Spiritualists were going rather upon the evidence of others than upon their own. And yet 250 out of 290 had actually joined hands across the border. I had no idea that the direct proof was so widely spread. I have always held that people insist too much upon direct proof. What direct proof have we of most of the great facts of Science? We simply take the word of those who have examined. How many of us have, for example, seen the rings of Saturn? We are assured that they are there, and we accept the assurance. Strong telescopes are rare, and so we do not all expect to see the rings with our own eyes. In the same way strong mediums are rare, and we cannot all expect to experience the higher psychic results. But if the as- surance of those who have carefully experimented, of the Barretts, the Hares, the Crookes, the Wallaces, the Lodges and the Lombrosos, is not enough, then it is manifest that we are dealing with this matter on differ- ent terms to those which we apply to all the other af- fairs of science. It would of course be different if there were a school of patient investigators who had gone equally deeply into the matter and come to op- posite conclusions. Then we should certainly have to find the path of truth by individual effort. But such a school does not exist. Only the ignorant and inex- perienced are in total opposition, and the humblest wit- [22] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ness who has really sought the evidence has more weight than they. After the luncheon my wife made the final prepara- tions and only ladies can tell what it means to fit out six people with tropical and semi-tropical outfits which will enable them for eight months to stand inspection in public. I employed the time by running down to Devonshire to give addresses at Exeter and Torquay, with admirable audiences at both. Good Evan Powell had come down to give me a last séance, and I had the joy of a few last words with my arisen son, who blessed me on my mission and assured me that I would indeed bring solace to bruised hearts. The words he uttered were a quotation from my London speech at which Powell had not been present, nor had the verbatim ac- count of it appeared anywhere at that time. It was one more sign of how closely our words and actions are noted from the other side. Powell was tired, hav- ing given a sitting the night before, so the proceedings were short, a few floating lights, my son and my sister's son to me, one or two greetings to other sitters, and it was over. Whilst in Exeter I had a discussion with those who would break away from Christianity. They are a strong body within the movement, and how can Chris- tians be surprised at it when they remember that for seventy years they have had nothing but contempt and abuse for the true light-bearers of the world? Is there at the present moment one single bishop, or one head of a Free Church, who has the first idea of psychic truth? Dr. Parker had, in his day, so too Archdeacons Wilber- force and Colley, Mr. Haweis and a few others. Gen- [23] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST eral Booth has also testified to spiritual communion with the dead. But what have Spiritualists had in the main save misrepresentation and persecution ? Hence the movement has admittedly, so far as it is an organ- ised religion—and it has already 360 churches and 1,000 building funds—taken a purely Unitarian turn. This involves no disrespect towards Him Whom they look upon as the greatest Spirit who ever trod the earth, but only a deep desire to communicate direct without intermediary with that tremendous centre of force from and to whom all things radiate or return. They are very earnest and good men, these organised religious Spiritualists, and for the most part, so far as my experience goes, are converts from materialism who, having in their materialistic days said very prop- erly that they would believe nothing which could not be proved to them, are ready now with Thomas to be absolutely wholehearted when the proof of survival and spirit communion has actually reached them. There, however, the proof ends, nor will they go further than the proof extends, as otherwise their original principles would be gone. Therefore they are Unitarians with a breadth of vision which includes Christ, Krishna, Bud- dha and all the other great spirits whom God has sent to direct different lines of spiritual evolution which cor- respond to the different needs of the various races of mankind. Our information from the beyond is that this evolution is continued beyond the grave, and very far on until all details being gradually merged, they become one as children of God. With a deep reverence for Christ it is undeniable that the organised Spiritu- alist does not accept vicarious atonement nor original [24] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST sin, and believes that a man reaps as he sows with no one but himself to pull out the weeds. It seems to me the more virile and manly doctrine, and as to the texts which seem to say otherwise, we cannot deny that the New Testament has been doctored again and again in order to square the record of the Scriptures with the practice of the Church. Professor Nestle, in the preface to a work on theology (I write far from books of reference), remarks that there were actually offi- cials' named “Correctores,” who were appointed at the time of the Council of Nicæa for this purpose, and St. Jerome, when he constructed the Vulgate, complains to Pope Damasus that it is practically a new book that he is making, putting any sin arising upon the Pope's head. In the face of such facts we can only accept the spirit of the New Testament fortified with com- mon sense, and using such interpretation as brings most spiritual strength to each of us. Personally, I accept the view of the organised Spiritual religion, for it re- moves difficulties which formerly stood between me and the whole Christian system, but I would not say or do anything which would abash those others who are getting real spiritual help from any sort of Chris- tian belief. The gaining of spirituality and widening of the personality are the aims of life, and how it is done is the business of the individual. Every creed has produced its saints and has to that extent justified its existence. I like the Unitarian position of the main Spiritual body, however, because it links the movement up with the other great creeds of the world and makes it more accessible to the Jew, the Moham- [25] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST medan or the Buddhist. It is far too big to be confined within the palings of Christianity. Here is a little bit of authentic teaching from the other side which bears upon the question. I take it from the remarkable record of Mr. Miller of Belfast, whose dialogues with his son after the death of the latter seem to me to be as certainly true as any case which has come to my notice. On asking the young soldier some question about the exact position of Christ in religion he modestly protested that such a subject was above his head, and asked leave to bring his higher guide to answer the question. Using a fresh voice and in a new and more weighty manner the medium then said :- "I wish to answer your question. Jesus the Christ is the proper designation. Jesus was perfect humanity. Christ was the God idea in Him. Jesus, on account of His purity, manifested in the highest degree the psychic powers which resulted in His miracles. Jesus never preached the blood of the lamb. The disciples after His ascension forgot the message in admiration of the man. The Christ is in every human being, and so are the psychic forces which were used by Jesus. If the same attention were given to spiritual development which you give to the comfort and growth of your material bodies your progress in spiritual life would be rapid and would be characterised by the same works as were performed by Jesus. The one essential thing for all on earth to strive after is a fuller knowledge and growth in spiritual living." I think that the phrase, “In their admiration of the [26] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST home, breaking the schooling of her children, and ven- turing out upon a sea voyage, which of all things she hates, has made the real sacrifice for the cause. As to me, I am fond of change and adventure, and heartily agree with President Roosevelt when he said that the grandest sport upon earth is to champion an unpopular cause which you know to be true. With us were Denis, Malcolm and Baby, concerning whom I wrote the “Three of them” sketches some years ago. In their train was Jakeman, most faithful of maids, and in mine Major Wood, who has been mixed up in my life ever since as young men we played both cricket and football in the same team. Such was the little party who set forth to try and blow that smouldering glow of truth which already existed in Australia, into a more lively flame. [28] CHAPTER II Gibraltar.-Spanish right versus British might.-Relics of Barbary Rovers, and of German militarists.- Ichabod! Senegal Infantry.—No peace for the world.-Religion on a liner.-Differences of vibration.—The Bishop of Kwang-Si.--Religion in China.-Whisky in excelsis.- France's masterpiece.—British errors.--A procession of giants. The invasion of Egypt.-Tropical weather. The Russian Horror.-An Indian experiment.-Aden. -Bombay.—The Lambeth encyclical.- A great novelist. -The Mango trick.-Snakes.—The Catamarans.—The Robber Castles of Ceylon.-Doctrine of Reincarnation. -Whales and Whalers.-Perth.—The Bight. France. Then Hof Laribet nakesboctrin We had a favourable journey across the Bay and came without adventure to Gibraltar, that strange crag, Arabic by name, African in type, Spanish by right, and British by might. I trust that my whole record has shown me to be a loyal son of the Empire, and I rec- ognise that we must have a secure line of communica- tions with the East, but if any change could give us Ceuta, on the opposite African coast, instead of this outlying corner of proud old Spain, it would be good policy as well as good morality to make the change. I wonder how we should like it if the French held a garrison at Mount St. Michael in Cornwall, which would be a very similar situation. Is it worth having a latent enemy who at any time might become an active one, or is it wiser to hold them to us by the memory of a great voluntary act of justice? They would pay, [29] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST of course, for all quays, breakwaters and improve- ments, which would give us the money to turn Ceuta into a worthy substitute, which could be held without offending the pride of a great nation, as old and proud as ourselves. The whole lesson of this great war is that no nation can do what is unjust with impunity, and that sooner or later one's sin will find one out. How successful seemed all the scheming of Frederick of Prussia! But what of Silesia and of Poland now? Only on justice can you build with a permanent foun- dation, and there is no justice in our tenure of Gib- raltar. We had only an hour ashore, a great joy to the children, and carried away a vague impression of grey- shirted Tommies, swarthy loungers, one long, cobble- stoned street, scarlet blossoms, and a fine Governor's house, in which I picture that brave old warrior, Smith- Dorrien, writing a book which will set all the critics talking, and the military clubs buzzing a year or two from now. I do not know if he was really forced to fight at Le Cateau, though our sympathies must always go to the man who fights, but I do feel that if he had had his way and straightened the salient of Ypres, there would have been a mighty saving of blood and tears. There were sentimental reasons against it, but I can think of no material ones—certainly none which were worth all the casualties of the Salient. I had only one look at the place, and that by night, but never shall I forget the murderous loop, outlined by star shells, nor the horrible noises which rose up from that place of wrath and misery. On August 19th we were running up the eastern Spanish coast, a most desolate country of high bare [30] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST cliffs and barren uplands, studded with aged towers which told of pirate raids of old. These Mediterranean shore dwellers must have had a hellish life, when the Barbary Rover was afloat, and they might be wakened any night by the Moslem yell. Truly, if the object of human life was chastening by suffering, then we have given it to each other in full measure. If this were the only life I do not know how the hypothesis of the goodness of God could be sustained, since our history has been one hardly broken record of recurring miser- ies, war, famine, and disease, from the ice to the equa- tor. I should still be a materialist, as I was of yore, if it were not for the comfort and teaching from beyond, which tells me that this is the worst-far the worst—and that by its standard everything else be- comes most gloriously better, so long as we help to make it so. "If the boys knew what it was like over here," said a dead soldier, “they would just jump for it.” He added however, “If they did that they would surely miss it." We cannot bluff Providence, or short- circuit things to our liking. We got ashore once more at Marseilles. I saw con- verted German merchant ships, with names like “Burgomeister Müller," in the harbour, and railway trucks with “Mainz-Cöln" still marked upon their flanks—part of the captured loot. Germany, that name of terror, how short is the time since we watched you well-nigh all-powerful, mighty on land, dangerous on the sea, conquering the world with your commerce and threatening it with your arms! You had everything, numbers, discipline, knowledge, industry, bravery, or- ganisation, all in the highest-such an engine as the [31] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST world has never seen. And now—Ichabod! Ichabod! Your warships lie under the waves, your liners fly the flags of your enemies, your mother Rhine on either bank hears the bugles of your invaders. What was wanting in you to bring you to such a pass? Was it not spirituality ? Had not your churches become as much a department of State as the Post Office, where every priest and pastor was in State pay, and said that which the State ordained? All other life was at its highest, but spiritual life was dead, and because it was dead all the rest had taken on evil activities which could only lead to dissolution and corruption. Had Germany obeyed the moral law would she not now be great and flourishing, instead of the ruin which we see? Was ever such an object lesson in sin and its consequence placed before the world? But let us look to it, for we also have our lesson to learn, and our punishment is surely waiting if we do not learn it. If now after such years we sink back into old ruts and do not make an earnest effort for real religion and real active morality, then we cumber the ground, and it is time that we were swept away, for no greater chance of reform can ever come to us. I saw some of the Senegal troops in the streets of Marseilles—a whole battalion of them marching down for re-embarkation. They are fierce, hard soldiers, by the look of them, for the negro is a natural fighter, as the prize ring shows, and these have long service training upon the top of this racial pugnacity. They look pure savages, with the tribal cuts still upon their faces, and I do not wonder that the Germans objected to them, though we cannot doubt that the Germans [32] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST would themselves have used their Askaris in Europe as well as in Africa if they could have done so. The men who had as allies the murderers of the Armenians would not stick at trifles. I said during the war, and I can clearly see now, that the way in which the war was fought will prove hardly second to the war itself as a misfortune to the human race. A clean war could end in a clean peace. But how can we ever forget the poison gas, the Zeppelin bombardments of helpless cities, the submarine murders, the scattering of disease germs, and all the other atrocities of Germany? No water of oblivion can ever wash her clean. She had one chance, and only one. It was to at once admit it all herself and to set to work purging her national guilt by punishing guilty individuals. Perhaps she may even now save herself and clear the moral atmosphere of the world by doing this. But time passes and the signs are against it. There can be no real peace in the world un- til voluntary reparation has been made. Forced repara- tion can only make things worse, for it cannot satisfy us, and it must embitter them. I long for real peace, and should love to see our Spiritualist bodies lead the van. But the time is not yet and it is realities we need, not phrases. Old travellers say that they never remember the Mediterranean so hot. We went down it with a fol- lowing breeze which just neutralised our own head wind, the result being a quivering tropical heat. With the Red Sea before us it was no joke to start our trials so soon, and already the children began to wilt. How- ever, Major Wood kept them at work for the fore- noons and discipline still flourished. On the third day [33] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST out we were south of Crete, and saw an island lying there which is surely the same in the lee of which Paul's galley took refuge when Euroclydon was behaving so badly. I had been asked to address the first-class pas- sengers upon psychic religion that evening, and it was strange indeed to speak in those waters, for I knew well that however ill my little pip-squeak might com- pare with that mighty voice, yet it was still the same battle of the unseen against the material, raging now as it did 2,000 years ago. Some 200 of the passengers, with the Bishop of Kwang-Si, turned up, and a better audience one could not wish, though the acoustic prop- erties of the saloon were abominable. However, I got it across, though I was as wet as if I had fallen over- board when I had finished. I was pleased to learn afterwards that among the most keen of my audience were every coloured man and woman on the ship, Parsees, Hindoos, Japanese and Mohammedans. "Do you believe it is true?" they were asked next day. "We know that it is true," was the answer, and it came from a lady with a red caste-mark like a wafer upon her forehead. So far as I could learn she spoke for all the Eastern folk. And the others ? At least I set them talking and thinking. I heard next morning of a queue of six wait- ing at the barber's all deep in theological discussion, with the barber himself, razor in hand, joining warmly in. “There has never been so much religion talked on a P. & O. ship since the line was started,” said one old traveller. It was all good-humoured and could do no harm. Before we had reached Port Said all my [34] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST it, is what we mean by an object with a higher rate of vibration. It is but a feeling out into the dark, but it is a hypothesis which may serve us to carry on with, though the clairvoyant seems to be not a person with a better developed physical retina, but rather one who has the power to use that which corresponds with the retina in their own etheric bodies which are in harmony with etheric waves from outside. When a man can walk round a room and examine the pictures with the back of his head, as Tom Tyrrell has done, it is clear that it is not his physical retina which is working. In countless cases inquirers into magnetic phenomena have caused their subjects to read with various parts of their bodies. It is the other body, the etheric body, the "spiritual” body of Paul, which lies behind all such phenomena—that body which is loose with all of us in sleep, but only exceptionally in waking hours. Once we fully understand the existence of that deathless etheric body, merged in our own but occasionally de- tachable, we have mastered many a problem and solved many a ghost story. However, I must get back to my Cretan lecture. The bishop was interested, and I lent him one of the Rev. Charles Tweedale's pamphlets next day, which shows how sadly Christianity has wandered away from its early faith of spiritual gifts and Communion of Saints. Both have now become words instead of things, save among our ranks. The bishop is a good fellow, red and rough like a Boer farmer, but healthy, breezy, and Apostolic. “Do mention his kind grey eyes,” says my wife. He may die a martyr yet in that inland diocese of China—and he would not shrink from it. Mean- [36] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST while, apart from his dogma, which must be desperately difficult to explain to an educated Chinaman, he must always be a centre of civilisation and social effort. A splendid fellow-but he suffers from what all bishops and all cardinals and all Popes suffer from, and that is superannuation. A physiologist has said that few men can ever entertain a new idea after fifty. How then can any church progress when all its leaders are over that age? This is why Christianity has stagnated and degenerated. If here and there one had a new idea, how could it survive the pressure of the others? It is hopeless. In this particular question of psychic religion the whole order is an inversion, for the people are ahead of the clergy and the clergy of the bishops. But when the laymen lead strongly enough the others will follow unless they wish to see the whole Church organisation dissolve. He was very interesting upon the state of Christi- anity in China. Protestantism, thanks to the joint British and American Missions, is gaining upon Ro- man Catholicism, and has now far outstripped it, but the Roman Catholic organisations are very wealthy on account of ancient valuable concessions and well- invested funds. In case of a Bolshevist movement that may be a source of danger, as it gives a reason for attack. The Bishop made the very striking remark that if the whites cleared right out of China all the Christian Churches of divers creeds would within a generation merge into one creed. “What have we to do," they say, "with these old historical quarrels which are hardly intelligible to us? We are all followers of Christ, and that is enough." Truly, the converted seem far ahead [37] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST of those who converted them. It is the priesthoods, the organisations, the funds and the vested interests which prevent the Churches from being united. In the meanwhile ninety per cent. of our population shows what it thinks by never entering into a church at all. Personally, I can never remember since I reached man- hood feeling myself the better for having gone into one. And yet I have been an earnest seeker for truth. Verily, there is something deep down which is rotten. It is want of fact, want of reality, words instead of things. Only last Sunday I shuddered as I listened to the hymns, and it amazed me to look around and see the composed faces of those who were singing them. Do they think what they are saying, or does Faith atrophy some part of the brain? We are "born through water and blood into the true church.” We drink precious blood. "He hath broken the teeth in their jaw.” Can such phrases really mean anything to any thoughtful man? If not, why continue them? You will have your churches empty while you do. People will not argue about it—they will, and do, simply stay away. And the clergy go on stating and re-stating incredible unproved things, while neglecting and railing at those which could be proved and believed. On our lines those nine out of ten could be forced back to a reconsideration of their position, even though that position would not square with all the doctrines of present-day Christianity, which would, I think, have offended the early Christians as much as it does the earnest thinkers of to-day. Port Said came at last, and we entered the Suez Canal. It is a shocking thing that the entrance to [38] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST this, one of the most magnificent of the works of man, are flanked by great sky advertisements of various brands of whisky. The sale of whisky may or may not be a tolerable thing, but its flaunting advertisements, Dewar, Johnny Walker, and the rest, have surely long been intolerable. If anything would make me a total prohibitionist those would. They are shameless. I do not know if some middle way could be found by which light alcoholic drinks could remain-so light that drunk- enness would be hardly possible—but if this cannot be done, then let us follow the noble example of America. It is indeed shameful to see at the very point of the world where some noble sentiment might best be ex- pressed these huge reminders of that which has led to so much misery and crime. To a Frenchman it must seem even worse than to us, while what the abstemious Mohammedan can think is beyond my imagination. In that direction at least the religion of Mohammed has done better than that of Christ. If all those Esqui- maux, South Sea Islanders and others who have been converted to Christianity and then debauched by drink, had followed the prophet instead, it cannot be denied that their development would have been a happier and a higher one, though the cast-iron doctrines and dog- mas of the Moslem have dangers of their own. Has France ever had the credit she deserves for the splendid faith with which she followed that great beneficent genius Lesseps in his wonderful work? It is beautiful from end to end, French in its neatness, its order, its exquisite finish. Truly the opposition of our people, both experts and public, was a disgrace to us, though it sinks into insignificance when compared with [39] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST our colossal national stupidity over the Channel tunnel. When our descendants compute the sums spent in shipping and transhipping in the great war, the waste of merchant ships and convoys, the sufferings of the wounded, the delay in reinforcements, the dependence upon the weather, they will agree that our sin had found us out and that we have paid a fitting price for our stupidity. Unhappily, it was not our blind guides who paid it, but it was the soldier and sailor and tax- payer, for the nation always pays collectively for the individual blunder. Would a hundred million pounds cover the cost of that one? Well can I remember how a year before war was declared, seeing clearly what was coming, I sent three memoranda to the Naval and Military authorities and to the Imperial Council of Defence pointing out exactly what the situation would be, and especially the danger to our transports. It is admitted now that it was only the strange inaction of the German light forces, and especially their want of comprehension of the possibilities of the submarine, which enabled our Expeditionary Force to get across at all, so that we might have lost the war within the first month. But as to my poor memoranda, which proved so terribly correct, I might as well have dropped them into my own wastepaper basket instead of theirs, and so saved the postage. My only convert was Cap- tain, now General, Swinton, part inventor of the tanks, who acted as Secretary to the Imperial Defence Com- mittee, and who told me at the time that my paper had set him thinking furiously. Which leads my thoughts to the question of the torpedoing of merchant vessels by submarines. So [40] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST sure was I that the Germans would do this, that after knocking at official doors in vain, I published a sketch called “Danger," which was written a year before the war, and depicted all that afterwards occurred, even down to such small details as the ships zig-zagging up Channel to escape, and the submarines using their guns to save torpedoes. I felt as if, like Solomon Eagle, I could have marched down Fleet Street with a brazier on my head if I could only call people's attention to the coming danger. I saw naval officers on the point, but they were strangely blind, as is shown by the comments printed at the end of “Danger," which give the opinions of several admirals pooh-poohing my fears. Among others I saw Captain Beatty, as he then was, and found him alive to the possible danger, though he did not suggest a remedy. His quiet, brisk personality impressed me, and I felt that our national brain-errors might perhaps be made good in the end by the grit that is in us. But how hard were our tasks from our want of foresight. Admiral Von Capelle did me the honour to say during the war, in the German Reichs- tag, that I was the only man who had prophesied the conditions of the great naval war. As a matter of fact, both Fisher and Scott had done so, though they had not given it to the public in the same detail- but nothing had been done. We know now that there was not a single harbour proof against submarines on our whole East Coast. Truly the hand of the Lord was over England. Nothing less could have saved her. We tied up to the bank soon after entering the Canal, and lay there most of the night while a proces- sion of great ships moving northwards swept silently [41] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST past us in the ring of vivid light cast by their search- lights and our own. I stayed on deck most of the night to watch them. The silence was impressive those huge structures sweeping past with only the slow beat of their propellers and the wash of their bow wave on either side. No sooner had one of these great shapes slid past than, looking down the Canal, one saw the brilliant head light of another in the distance. They are only allowed to go at the slowest pace, so that their wash may not wear away the banks. Finally, the last had passed, and we were ourselves able to cast off our warps and push southwards. I remained on deck see- ing the sun rise over the Eastern desert, and then a wonderful slow-moving panorama of Egypt as the bank slid slowly past us. First desert, then green oases, then the long line of rude fortifications from Kantara down- wards, with the camp fires smoking, groups of early busy Tommies and endless dumps of stores. Here and to the south was the point where the Turks with their German leaders attempted the invasion of Egypt, car- rying flat-bottomed boats to ford the Canal. How they were ever allowed to get so far is barely compre- hensible, but how they were ever permitted to get back again across one hundred miles of desert in the face of our cavalry and camelry is altogether beyond me. Even their guns got back untaken. They dropped a number of mines in the Canal, but with true Turkish slovenliness they left on the banks at each point the long bamboos on which they had carried them across the desert, which considerably lessened the work of those who had to sweep them up. The sympathies of the Egyptians seem to have been against us, and yet [42] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST they have no desire to pass again under the rule of the Turk. Our dominion has had the effect of turning a very poor country into a very rich one, and of securing some sort of justice for the fellah or peasant, but since we get no gratitude and have no trade preference it is a little difficult to see how we are the better for all our labours. So long as the Canal is secure-and it is no one's interest to injure it—we should be better if the country governed itself. We have too many commit- ments, and if we have to take new ones, such as Meso- potamia, it would be well to get rid of some of the others where our task is reasonably complete. “We never let the youngsters grow up,” said a friendly critic. There is, however, I admit, another side to the question, and the idea of permitting a healthy moral place like Port Said to relapse into the hotbed of gam- bling and syphilis which it used to be, is repugnant to the mind. Which is better—that a race be free, immoral and incompetent, or that it be forced into morality and prosperity? That question meets us at every turn. The children have been delighted by the fish on the surface of the Canal. Their idea seems to be that the one aim and object of our excursion is to see sharks in the sea and snakes in Australia. We did actually see a shark half ashore upon a sandbank in one of the lower lakes near Suez. It was lashing about with a frantic tail, and so got itself off into deep water. To the west all day we see the very wild and barren country through which our ancestors used to drive upon the overland route when they travelled by land from Cairo to Suez. The smoke of a tiny mail-train marks the general line of that most desolate road. In the evening we were [43] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST rely upon my wife's very quick and accurate feminine impressions. She sits always beside me, notes every- thing, gives me her sympathetic atmosphere which is of such psychic importance, and finally reports the result. If any point of mine seems to her to miss its mark I unhesitatingly take it out. It interests me to hear her tell of the half-concealed sneer with which men listen to me, and how it turns into interest, be- wilderment and finally something like reverence and awe as their brain gradually realises the proved truth of what I am saying, which upsets the whole philosophy on which their lives are built. There are several Australian officers on board who are coming from the Russian front full of dreadful stories of Bolshevist atrocities, seen with their own eyes. The executioners were Letts and Chinese, and the instigators renegade Jews, so that the Russians proper seem to have been the more or less innocent dupes. They had dreadful photographs of tortured and mutilated men as corroboration. Surely hell, the place of punishment and purgatorial expiation, is actu- ally upon this earth in such cases. One leader seems to have been a Sadic madman, for after torturing his victims till even the Chinese executioners struck, he would sit playing a violin very exquisitely while he gloated over their agonies. All these Australian boys agree that the matter will burn itself out, and that it will end in an immense massacre of Jews which may involve the whole seven millions now in Russia. God forbid, but the outlook is ominous! I remember a prophecy which I read early in the war that a great figure would arise in the north and have power for [45] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST six years. If Lenin was the great figure then he has, according to the prophet, about two years more to run. But prophecy is fitful, dangerous work. The way in which the founders of the Christian faith all foretold the imminent end of the world is an example. What they dimly saw was no doubt the destruction of Jeru- salem, which seems to have been equally clear to Ezekiel 600 years before, for his picture of cannibalism and dispersion is very exact. It is wonderful what chances of gaining direct infor- mation one has aboard a ship of this sort, with its mixed crowd of passengers, many of them famous in their own lines. I have already alluded to the officers returning from Russia with their prophecies of evil. But there are many other folk with tales of deep interest. There is a Mr. Covell, a solid practical Briton, who may prove to be a great pioneer, for he has made farming pay handsomely in the very heart of the Indian plains. Within a hundred miles of Lucknow he has founded the townlet of Covellpore, where he handles 3,000 acres of wheat and cotton with the aid of about the same number of natives. This is the most practical step I have ever heard of for forming a real indigenous white population in India. His son was with him, going out to carry on the work. Mr. Covell holds that the irrigation of the North West of India is one of the greatest wonders of the world, and Jacob the engineer responsible. I had never heard of him nor, I am ashamed to say, had I heard of Sir Leonard Rogers, who is one of those great men like Sir Ronald Ross, whom the Indian Medical Service throws up. Rogers has reduced the mortality of cholera by intravenous in- [46] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST jections of hypertonic saline until it is only 15 per cent. General Maude, I am informed, would almost certainly have been saved, had it not been that some false depart- mental economy had withheld the necessary apparatus. Leprosy also seems in a fair way to yielding to Rogers' genius for investigation. It is sad to hear that this same Indian Medical Ser- vice which has produced such giants as Fayrer, Ross, and Rogers is in a fair way to absolute ruin, because the conditions are such that good white candidates will no longer enter it. White doctors do not mind working with, or even under, natives who have passed the same British examinations as themselves, but they bar the native doctor who has got through a native college in India, and is on a far lower educational level than them- selves. To serve under such a man is an impossible inversion. This is appreciated by the medical authori- ties at home, the word is given to the students, and the best men avoid the service. So unless a change is made, the end is in sight of the grand old service which has given so much to humanity. Aden is remarkable only for the huge water tanks cut to catch rain, and carved out of solid rock. A whole captive people must have been set to work on so colossal a task, and one wonders where the poor wretches got water themselves the while. Their work is as fresh and efficient as when they left it. No doubt it was for the watering, not of the population, but of the Egyptian and other galleys on their way to Punt and King Solomon's mines. It must be a weary life for our garrison in such a place. There is strange L47] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST lose. One hears of the converts to various sects, but one does not hear of those who are driven out by their narrow, intolerant doctrines. You can change your mind about faiths, but not about facts, and hence our certain conquest. One cannot spend even a single long day in India without carrying away a wonderful impression of the gentle dignity of the Indian people. Our motor drivers were extraordinarily intelligent and polite, and all we met gave the same impression. India may be held by the sword, but it is certainly kept very carefully in the scabbard, for we hardly saw a soldier in the streets of this, its greatest city. I observed some splendid types of manhood, however, among the native police. We lunched at the Taj Mahal Hotel, and got back tired and full of mixed impressions. Verily the ingenuity of children is wonderful. They have turned their active minds upon the problem of paper currency with fearsome results. Baby writes cheques in quaint ways upon odd bits of paper and brings them to me to be cashed. Malcolm, once known as Dimples, has made a series of pound and five pound notes of his own. The bank they call the money shop. I can trace every sort of atavism, the arboreal, the cave dweller, the adventurous raider, and the tribal instinct in the child, but this development seems a little premature. Sunday once more and the good Bishop preaching. I wonder more and more what an educated Chinaman would make of such doctrines. To take an example, he has quoted to-day with great approval, the action of Peter in discarding the rite of circumcision as a proof [49] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST of election. That marked, according to the Bishop, the broad comprehensive mind which could not confine the mercies of God to any limited class. And yet when I take up the æcumenical pronouncement from the congress of Anglican bishops which he has just attended, I find that baptism is made the test, even as the Jews made circumcision. Have the bishops not learned that there are millions who revere the memory of Christ, whether they look upon Him as God or man, but who think that baptism is a senseless survival of heathendom, like so many of our religious observances ? The idea that the Being who made the milky way can be either placated or incensed by pouring a splash of water over child or adult is an offence to reason, and a slur upon the Divinity. Two weary days upon the sea with drifting rain showers and wonderful scarlet and green sunsets. Have beguiled the time with W. B. Maxwell's “Lamp and the Mirror.” I have long thought that Maxwell was the greatest of British novelists, and this book con- firms me in my opinion. Who else could have drawn such fine detail and yet so broad and philosophic a pic- ture? There may have been single books which were better than Maxwell's best—the "Garden of Allah," with its gorgeous oriental colour, would, for example, make a bid for first place, but which of us has so splendid a list of first class serious works as “Mrs. Thompson," "The Rest Cure," "Vivian," "In Cotton Wool,” above all, “The Guarded Flame"—classics, every one. Our order of merit will come out very dif- ferently in a generation or so to what it stands now, and I shall expect to find my nominee at the top. But [50] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST after all, what's the odds? You do your work as well as you can. You pass. You find other work to do. How the old work compares with the other fellow's work can be a matter of small concern. In Colombo harbour lay H.M.S. “Highflyer," which we looked upon with the reverence which everybody and everything which did well in the war deserve from us—a saucy, rakish, speedy craft. Several other steam- ers were flying the yellow quarantine flag, but our captain confided to me that it was a recognised way of saying "no visitors," and did not necessarily bear any pathological meaning. As we had nearly two days be- fore we resumed our voyage I was able to give all our party a long stretch on shore, finally staying with my wife for the night at the Galle Face Hotel, a place where the preposterous charges are partly compensated for by the glorious rollers which break upon the beach outside. I was interested in the afternoon by a native conjurer giving us what was practically a private per- formance of the mango-tree trick. He did it so admir- ably that I can well understand those who think that it is an occult process. I watched the man narrowly, and believe that I solved the little mystery, though even now I cannot be sure. In doing it he began by laying several objects out in a casual way while hunting in his bag for his mango seed. These were small odds and ends including a little rag doll, very rudely fash- ioned, about six or eight inches long. One got accus- tomed to the presence of these things and ceased to remark them. He showed the seed and passed it for examination, a sort of large Brazil nut. He then laid it among some loose earth, poured some water on it, [51] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST skin-sloughing, but I have my doubts. The poison bag had, I suppose, been extracted, but the man seemed nervous and slipped his brown hand between my own and the swaying venomous head with its peculiar flat- tened hood. It is a fearsome beast, and I can realise what was told me by a lover of animals that the snake was the one creature from which he could get no return of affection. I remember that I once had three in my employ when the "Speckled Band” was produced in London, fine, lively rock pythons, and yet in spite of this profusion of realism I had the experience of read- ing a review which, after duly slating the play, wound up with the scathing sentence, “The performance ended with the production of a palpably artificial ser- pent." Such is the reward of virtue. Afterwards when the necessities of several travelling companies compelled us to use dummy snakes we produced a much more realistic effect. The real article either hung down like a pudgy yellow bell rope, or else when his tail was pinched, endeavoured to squirm back and get level with the stage carpenter, who pinched him, which was not in the plot. The latter individual had no doubts at all as to the dummy being an improvement upon the real. Never, save on the west coast of Africa, have I seen "the league-long roller thundering on the shore," as here, where the Indian Ocean with its thousand leagues of momentum hits the western coast of Ceylon. It looks smooth out at sea, and then you are surprised to observe that a good-sized boat had suddenly vanished. Then it scoops upwards once more on the smooth arch of the billow, disappearing on the further slope. The [53] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST native catamarans are almost invisible, so that you see a row of standing figures from time to time on the crest of the waves. I cannot think that any craft in the world would come through rough water as these catamarans with their long outriggers can do. Man has made few more simple and more effective inventions, and if I were a younger man I would endeavour to introduce them to Brighton beach, as once I introduced ski to Switzerland, or auto-wheels to the British roads. I have other work to do now, but why does not some sportsman take the model, have it made in England, and then give an exhibition in a gale of wind on the south coast. It would teach our fishermen some possi- bilities of which they are ignorant. As I stood in a sandy cove one of them came flying in, a group of natives rushing out and pulling it up on the beach. The craft consists only of two planks edge- wise and lengthwise. In the nine-inch slit between them lay a number of great twelve-pound fish, like cod, and tied to the side of the boat was a ten-foot sword- fish. To catch that creature while standing on a couple of floating planks must have been sport indeed, and yet the craft is so ingenious that to a man who can at a pinch swim for it, there is very small element of danger. The really great men of our race, the inventor of the wheel, the inventor of the lever, the inventor of the catamaran are all lost in the mists of the past, but ethnologists have found that the cubic capacity of the neolithic brain is as great as our own. There are two robbers' castles, as the unhappy visitor calls them, facing the glorious sea, the one Galle Face, the other the Mount Lavinia Hotel. They are con- [54] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST and vicarious doctrines, but I am very sure that wher- ever his robust, kindly, sincere personality may dwell is bound to be a centre of the true missionary effort- the effort which makes for the real original teaching of his Master, submission to God and goodwill to our fellow-men. Now we are on the last lap with nothing but a clear stretch of salt water between our prow and West Aus- tralia. Our mission from being a sort of dream takes concrete form and involves definite plans. Meanwhile we plough our way through a deep blue sea with the wind continually against us. I have not seen really calm water since we left the Canal. We carry on with the usual routine of ship sports, which include an Eng- land and Australia cricket match, in which I have the honour of captaining England, a proper ending for a long if mediocre career as a cricketer. We lost by one run, which was not bad considering our limited numbers. Posers of all sorts are brought to me by thoughtful inquirers, which I answer when I can. Often I can't. One which is a most reasonable objection has given me a day's thought. If, as is certain, we can remember in our next life the more important incidents of this one, why is it that in this one we can remember noth- ing of that previous spiritual career, which must have existed since nothing can be born in time for eternity. Our friends on the other side cannot help us there, nor can even such extended spiritual visions as those of Vale Owen clear it up. On the whole we must admit that our Theosophical friends, with whom we quarrel for their absence of evidence, have the best attempt at [56] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST an explanation. I imagine that man's soul has a cycle which is complete in itself, and all of which is continu- ous and self conscious. This begins with earth life. Then at last a point is reached, it may be a reincarna- tion, and a new cycle is commenced, the old one being closed to our memory until we have reached some lofty height in our further journey. Pure speculation, I admit, but it would cover what we know and give us a working hypothesis. I can never excite myself much about the reincarnation idea, for if it be so, it occurs seldom, and at long intervals, with ten years spent in the other spheres for one spent here, so that even ad- mitting all that is said by its supporters it is not of such great importance. At the present rate of change this world will be as strange as another sphere by the time we are due to tread the old stage once more. It is only fair to say that though many spiritualists oppose it, there is a strong body, including the whole French Allan Kardec school, who support it. Those who have passed over may well be divided upon the subject since it concerns their far future and is a matter of specu- lation to them as to us. Thrasher whales and sperm whales were seen which aroused the old whaling thrill in my heart. It was the more valuable Greenland whale which I helped to catch, while these creatures are those which dear old Frank Bullen, a childlike sailor to the last, described in his “Cruise of the Cachelot.” How is it that sailors write such perfect English. There are Bullen and Con- rad, both of whom served before the mast-the two purest stylists of their generation. So was Loti in France. There are some essays of Bullen's, especially [57] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST a description of a calm in the tropics, and again of "Sunrise seen from the Crow's Nest,” which have not been matched in our time for perfection of imagery and diction. They are both in his “Idyls of the Sea.” If there is compensation in the beyond-and I know that there is—then Frank Bullen is in great peace, for his whole earthly life was one succession of troubles. When I think of his cruel stepmother, his dreadful childhood, his life on a Yankee blood ship, his struggles as a tradesman, his bankruptcy, his sordid worries, and finally, his prolonged ill-health, I marvel at the unequal distribution of such burdens. He was the best singer of a chanty that I have ever heard, and I can hear him now with his rich baritone voice trolling out "Sally Brown” or “Stormalong.” May I hear him once again! Our dear ones tell us that there is no great gap between what pleases us here and that which will please us in the beyond. Our own brains, had we ever used them in the matter, should have instructed us that all evolution, spiritual as well as material, must be gradual. Indeed, once one knows psychic truth, one can, reasoning backwards, perceive that we should un- aided have come to the same conclusions, but since we have all been deliberately trained not to use our reason in religious matters, it is no wonder that we have made rather a hash of it. Surely it is clear enough that in the case of an artist the artistic nature is part of the man himself. Therefore, if he survives it must survive. But if it survives it must have means of expression, or it is a senseless thing. But means of expression im- plies appreciation from others and a life on the general lines of this one. So also of the drama, music, science [58] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST and literature, if we carry on they carry on, and they cannot carry on without actual expression and a public to be served. To the east of us and just beyond the horizon lie the Cocos Islands, where Ross established his strange little kingdom, and where the Emden met its end-a glorious one, as every fair minded man must admit. I have seen her stern post since then in the hall of the Federal Par- liament at Melbourne, like some fossil monster, once a terror and now for children to gaze at. As to the Cocos Islands, the highest point is, I understand, about twenty feet, and tidal waves are not unknown upon the Pacific, so that the community holds its tenure at very short and sudden notice to quit. On the morning of September 17th a low coast line appeared upon the port bow—Australia at last. It was the edge of the West Australian State. The evening before a wireless had reached me from the spiritualists of Perth saying that they welcomed us and our mes- sage. It was a kind thought and a helpful one. We were hardly moored in the port of Fremantle, which is about ten miles from the capital, when a deputation of these good, kind people was aboard, bearing great bunches of wild flowers, most of which were new to us. Their faces fell when they learned that I must go on in the ship and that there was very little chance of my being able to address them. They are only con- nected with the other States by one long thin railway line, 1,200 miles long, with scanty trains which were already engaged, so that unless we stuck to the ship we should have to pass ten days or so before we could [59] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST resume our journey. This argument was unanswer- able, and so the idea of a meeting was given up. These kind people had two motors in attendance, which must, I fear, have been a strain upon their re- sources, for as in the old days the true believers and practical workers are drawn from the poor and humble. However, they certainly treated us royally, and even the children were packed into the motors. We skirted the Swan River, passed through the very beautiful public park, and, finally, lunched at the busy town, where Bone's store would cut a respectable figure in London, with its many departments and its roof res- taurant. It was surprising after our memories of England to note how good and abundant was the food. It is a charming little town, and it was strange, after viewing its settled order, to see the mill where the early settlers not so very long ago had to fight for their lives with the black fellows. Those poor black fellows! Their fate is a dark stain upon Australia. And yet it must in justice to our settlers be admitted that the ques- tion was a very difficult one. Was colonisation to be abandoned, or were these brave savages to be over- come? That was really the issue. When they speared the cattle of the settlers what were the settlers to do? Of course, if a reservation could have been opened up, as in the case of the Maoris, that would have been ideal. But the noble Maori is a man with whom one could treat on equal terms and he belonged to a solid race. The Aborigines of Australia were broken wandering tribes, each at war with its neighbours. In a single reservation they would have exterminated each other. It was a piteous tragedy, and yet, even now in retro- [60] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST spect, how difficult it is to point out what could have been done. The Spiritualists of Perth seem to be a small body, but as earnest as their fellows elsewhere. A masterful looking lady, Mrs. McIlwraith, rules them, and seems fit for the part. They have several mediums develop- ing, but I had no chance of testing their powers. Alto- gether our encounter with them cheered us on our way. We had the first taste of Australian labour conditions at Fremantle, for the men knocked off at the given hour, refusing to work overtime, with the result that we carried a consignment of tea, meant for their own tea-pots, another thousand miles to Adelaide, and so back by train which must have been paid for out of their own pockets and those of their fellow citizens. Verily, you cannot get past the golden rule, and any breach of it brings its own punishment somehow, some- where, be the sinner a master or a man. And now we had to cross the dreaded Bight, where the great waves from the southern ice come rolling up, but our luck was still in, and we went through it with- out a qualm. Up to Albany one sees the barren irregu- lar coast, and then there were two days of blue water, which brought us at last to Adelaide, our port of de- barkation. The hour and the place at last! [61] CHAPTER III Mr. Hughes's letter of welcome.-Challenges.—Mr. Carlyle Smythe.—The Adelaide Press.—The great drought.- The wine industry.-Clairvoyance.—Meeting with Bell- chambers.—The first lecture.—The effect.—The Religious lecture.-The illustrated lecture.- Premonitions.—The spot light.-Mr. Thomas's account of the incident.- Correspondence.-Adelaide doctors.-A day in the Bush. -The Mallee fowl.—Sussex in Australia.-Farewell to Adelaide. I was welcomed to Australia by a hospitable letter from the Premier, Mr. Hughes, who assured me that he would do what he could to make our visit a pleasant one, and added, “I hope you will see Australia as it is, for I want you to tell the world about us. We are a very young country; we have a very big and very rich heritage, and the great war has made us realise that we are Australians, proud to belong to the Empire, but proud too of our own country.” Apart from Mr. Hughes's kind message, my chief welcome to the new land came from Sydney, and took the queer form of two independent challenges to public debate, one from the Christian Evidence Society, and the other from the local leader of the Materialists. As the two positions are mutually destructive, one felt in- clined to tell them to fight it out between themselves and that I would fight the winner. The Christian Evi- dence Society, is, of course, out of the question, since they regard a text as an argument, which I can only [62] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST accept with many qualifications, so that there is no common basis. The materialist is a more worthy an- tagonist, for though he is often as bigoted and inaccessible to reason as the worst type of Christian, there is always a leaven of honest, open-minded doubt- ers on whom a debate might make an impression. A debate with them, as I experienced when I met Mr. MacCabe, can only follow one line, they quoting all the real or alleged scandals which have ever been con- nected with the lowest forms of mediumship, and claiming that the whole cult is comprised therein, to which you counter with your own personal experiences, and with the evidence of the cloud of witnesses who have found the deepest comfort and enlarged knowl- edge. It is like two boxers each hitting the air, and both returning to their respective corners amid the plaudits of their backers, while the general public is none the better. Three correspondents headed me off on the ship, and as I gave each of them a long separate interview, I was a tired man before I got ashore. Mr. Carlyle Smythe, my impresario, had also arrived, a small alert competent gentleman, with whom I at once got on pleasant terms, which were never once clouded during our long travels together upon our tour. I was for- tunate indeed to have so useful and so entertaining a companion, a musician, a scholar, and a man of many varied experiences. With his help we soon got our stuff through the customs, and made the short train journey which separates the Port of Adelaide from the charming city of that name. By one o'clock we were safely housed in the Grand Central Hotel, with win- [63] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST dows in place of port holes, and the roar of the trams to take the place of the murmurs of the great ocean. The good genius of Adelaide was a figure, already almost legendary, one Colonel Light, who played the part of Romulus and Remus to the infant city. Some- where in the thirties of last century he chose the site, against strong opposition, and laid out the plan with such skill that in all British and American lands I have seen few such cities, so pretty, so orderly and so self- sufficing. When one sees all the amenities of the place, botanical gardens, zoological gardens, art gallery, mu- seum, university, public library and the rest, it is hard to realise that the whole population is still under three hundred thousand. I do not know whether the press sets the tone to the community or the community to the press, but in any case Adelaide is greatly blessed in this respect, for its two chief papers, the Register and the Advertiser, under Sir William Sowden and Sir Langdon Bonython respectively, are really excellent, with a world-wide Metropolitan tone. Their articles upon the subject in which I am par- ticularly interested, though by no means one-sided, were at least informed with knowledge and breadth of mind. In Adelaide I appreciated, for the first time, the crisis which Australia has been passing through in the shape of a two-years' drought, only recently broken. It seems to have involved all the States and to have caused great losses, amounting to millions of sheep and cattle. The result was that the price of those cattle which survived has risen enormously, and at the time of our visit an absolute record had been established, a bullock having been sold for £41. The normal price would be about [64] Photo: Stirling, Melbourne. THE WANDERERS, 1920-21. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST £13. Sheep were about £3 each, the normal being fifteen shillings. This had, of course, sent the price of meat soaring with the usual popular unrest and agita- tion as a result. It was clear, however, that with the heavy rains the prices would fall. These Australian droughts are really terrible things, especially when they come upon newly-opened country and in the hotter re- gions of Queensland and the North. One lady told us that she had endured a drought in Queensland which lasted so long that children of five had never seen a drop of rain. You could travel a hundred miles and find the brown earth the whole way, with no sign of green anywhere, the sheep eating twigs or gnawing bark until they died. Her brother sold his surviving sheep for one shilling each, and when the drought broke had to restock at 50s. a head. This is a common expe- rience, and all but the man with savings have to take to some subordinate work, ruined men. No doubt, with afforestation, artesian wells, irrigation and water stor- age things may be modified, but all these things need capital, and capital in these days is hard to seek, nor can it be expected that capitalists will pour their money into States which have wild politicians who talk lightly of past obligations. You cannot tell the investor that he is a bloated incubus one moment, and go hat in hand for further incubation the next. I fear that this grand country as a whole may suffer from the wild ideas of some of its representatives. But under it all lies the solid self-respecting British stuff, which will never re- pudiate a just debt, however heavily it may press. Australians may groan under the burden, but they [65] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST should remember that for every pound of taxation they carry the home Briton carries nearly three. But to return for a moment to the droughts; has any writer of fiction invented or described a more long- drawn agony than that of the man, his nerves the more tired and sensitive from the constant unbroken heat, waiting day after day for the cloud that never comes, while under the glaring sun from the unchanging blue above him, his sheep, which represent all his life's work and his hopes, perish before his eyes? A revolver shot has often ended the long vigil and the pioneer has joined his vanished flocks. I have just come in contact with a case where two young returned soldiers, de- mobilised from the war and planted on the land, had forty-two cattle given them by the State to stock their little farm. Not a drop of water fell for over a year, the feed failed, and these two warriors of Palestine and Flanders wept at their own helplessness while their little herd died before their eyes. Such are the trials which the Australian farmer has to bear. While waiting for my first lecture I do what I can to understand the country and its problems. To this end I visited the vineyards and wine plant of a local firm which possesses every factor for success, save the capacity to answer letters. The originator started grape culture as a private hobby about 60 years ago, and now such an industry has risen that this firm alone has £700,000 sunk in the business, and yet it is only one of several. The product can be most excellent, but little or any ever reaches Europe, for it cannot overtake the local demand. The quality was good and purer than the corresponding wines in Europe--especially the [66] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST champagnes, which seem to be devoid of that poison, whatever it may be, which has for a symptom a dry tongue with internal acidity, driving elderly gentlemen to whisky and soda. The Australian product, taken in moderate doses, seems to have no poisonous quality, and is without that lime-like dryness which appears to be the cause of it. If temperance reform takes the sane course of insisting upon a lowering of the alcohol in our drinks, so that one may be surfeited before one could be drunken, then this question of good mild wines will bulk very largely in the future, and Australia may supply one of the answers. With all my sympathy for the reformers I feel that wine is so useful a social agent that we should not abolish it until we are certain that there is no via media. The most pregnant argu- ment upon the subject was the cartoon which showed the husband saying “My dear, it is the anniversary of our wedding. Let us have a second bottle of ginger beer.” We went over the vineyards, ourselves mildly inter- ested in the vines, and the children wildly excited over the possibility of concealed snakes. Then we did the vats and the cellars with their countless bottles. We were taught the secrets of fermentation, how the won- derful Pasteur had discovered that the best and quickest was produced not by the grape itself, as of old, but by the scraped bloom of the grape inserted in the bottle. After viewing the number of times a bottle must be turned, a hundred at least, and the complex processes which lead up to the finished article, I will pay my wine bills in future with a better grace. The place was all polished wood and shining brass, like the fittings of a [67] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST man-of-war, and a great impression of cleanliness and efficiency was left upon our minds. We only know the Australian wines at present by the rough articles sold in flasks, but when the supply has increased the world will learn that this country has some very different stuff in its cellars, and will try to transport it to their tables. We had a small meeting of Spiritualists in our hotel sitting-room, under the direction of Mr. Victor Cromer, a local student of the occult, who seems to have con- siderable psychic power. He has a small circle for psychic development which is on new lines, for the neo- phytes who are learning clairvoyance sit around in a circle in silence, while Mr. Cromer endeavours by mental effort to build up the thought form of some object, say a tree, in the centre of the room. After a time he asks each of the circle what he or she can see, and has many correct answers. With colours in the same way he can convey impressions to his pupils. It is clear that telepathy is not excluded as an explana- tion, but the actual effect upon the participants is, according to their own account, visual rather than men- tal. We had an interesting sitting with a number of these developing mediums present, and much informa- tion was given, but little of it could be said to be truly evidential. After seeing such clairvoyance as that of Mr. Tom Tyrell or others at home, when a dozen names and addresses will be given together with the descrip- tions of those who once owned them, one is spoiled for any lesser display. There was one man whom I had particularly deter- mined to meet when I came to Australia. This was [68] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Mr. T. P. Bellchambers, about whom I had read an article in some magazine which showed that he was a sort of humble Jeffries or Thoreau, more lonely than the former, less learned than the latter, who lived among the wild creatures in the back country, and was on such terms with our humble brothers as few men are ever privileged to attain. I had read how the eagle with the broken wing had come to him for succour, and how little birds would sit on the edge of his panni- kin while he drank. Him at all cost would we see. Like the proverbial prophet, no one I met had ever heard of him, but on the third day of our residence there came a journalist bearing with him a rudely dressed, tangle-haired man, collarless and unkempt, with kind, irregular features and clear blue eyes—the eyes of a child. It was the man himself. “He brought me," said he, nodding towards the journalist. "He had to, for I always get bushed in a town.” This rude figure fingering his frayed cap was clearly out of his true picture, and we should have to visit him in his own little clearing to see him as he really was. Meanwhile I wondered whether one who was so near nature might know something of nature's more occult secrets. The dialogue ran like this: “You who are so near nature must have psychic experiences." "What's psychic? I live so much in the wild that I don't know much.” "I expect you know plenty we don't know. But I meant spiritual.” "Supernatural ?” "Well, we think it is natural but little understood.” [69] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST "You mean fairies and things ?" "Yes, and the dead." “Well, I guess our fairies would be black fairies." “Why not?" “Well, I never saw any." "I hoped you might.” "No, but I know one thing. The night my mother died I woke to find her hand upon my brow. Oh, there's no doubt. Her hand was heavy on my brow.” "At the time?" “Yes, at the very hour.” “Well, that was good.” “Animals know more about such things." “Yes." “They see something. My dog gets terrified when I see nothing, and there's a place in the bush where my horse shies and sweats, he does, but there's nothing to see." "Something evil has been done there. I've known many cases.” "I expect that's it.” So ran our dialogue. At the end of it he took a cigar, lighted it at the wrong end, and took himself with his strong simple backwoods atmosphere out of the room. Assuredly I must follow him to the wilds. Now came the night of my first lecture. It was in the city hall, and every seat was occupied. It was a really magnificent audience of two thousand people, the most representative of the town. I am an embarrassed and an interested witness, so let me for this occasion quote the sympathetic, not to say flattering account of the Register. [70] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST "There could not have been a more impressive set of circumstances than those which attended the first Australian lecture by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at the Adelaide Town Hall on Saturday night, September 25th. The audience, large, representative and thoughtful, was in its calibre and proportions a fit- ting compliment to a world celebrity and his mis- sion. Many of the intellectual leaders of the city were present-University professors, pulpit person- alities, men eminent in business, legislators, every section of the community contributed a quota. It cannot be doubted, of course, that the brilliant lit- erary fame of the lecturer was an attraction added to that strange subject which explored the ‘unknown drama of the soul.' Over all, Sir Arthur dominated by his big arresting presence. His face has a rugged, kindly strength, tense and earnest in its grave mo- ments, and full of winning animation when the sun of his rich humour plays on the powerful features. "It is not altogether a sombre journey he makes among the shadows, but apparently one of happy, as well as tender experiences, so that laughter is not necessarily excluded from the exposition. Do not let that be misunderstood. There was no intrusion of the slightest flippancy-Sir Arthur, the whole time, exhibited that attitude of reverence and humility de- manded of one traversing a domain on the border- land of the tremendous. Nothing approaching a theatrical presentation of the case for Spiritualism marred the discourse. It was for the most part a [71] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST plain statement. First things had to be said, and the explanatory groundwork laid for future develop- ment. It was a lucid, illuminating introduction. "Sir Arthur had a budget of notes, but after he had turned over a few pages he sallied forth with fluent independence under the inspiration of a vast mental store of material. A finger jutted out now and again with a thrust of passionate emphasis, or his big glasses twirled during moments of descriptive ease, and occasionally both hands were held forward as though delivering settled points to the audience for its examination. A clear, well-disciplined voice, ex- cellent diction, and conspicuous sincerity of manner marked the lecture, and no one could have found fault with the way in which Sir Arthur presented his case. "The lecturer approached the audience in no spirit of impatient dogmatism, but in the capacity of an understanding mind seeking to illumine the darkness of doubt in those who had not shared his great expe- riences. He did not dictate, but reasoned and pleaded, taking the people into his confidence with strong conviction and a consoling faith. 'I want to speak to you to-night on a subject which concerns the destiny of every man and woman in this room,' began Sir Arthur, bringing everybody at once into an intimate personal circle. “No doubt the Almighty, by putting an angel in King William Street, could convert every one of you to Spiritualism, but the Almighty law is that we must use our own brains, and find out our own salvation, and it is not made too easy for us.'”. [72] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST It is awkward to include this kindly picture, and yet I do not know how else to give an idea of how the matter seemed to a friendly observer. I had chosen for my theme the scientific aspect of the matter, and I marshalled my witnesses and showed how Professor Mayo corroborated Professor Hare, and Professor Challis Professor Mayo, and Sir William Crookes all his predecessors, while Russell Wallace and Lombroso and Zollner and Barrett, and Lodge, and many more had all after long study assented, and I read the very words of these great men, and showed how bravely they had risked their reputations and careers for what they knew to be the truth. I then showed how the opposition who dared to contradict them were men with no practical experience of it at all. It was wonderful to hear the shout of assent when I said that what struck me most in such a position was its colossal im- pertinence. That shout told me that my cause was won, and from then onwards the deep silence was only broken by the occasional deep murmur of heart-felt agreement. I told them the evidence that had been granted to me, the coming of my son, the coming of my brother, and their message. “Plough! Plough! others will cast the seed.” It is hard to talk of such intimate matters, but they were not given to me for my private comfort alone, but for that of humanity. Noth- ing could have gone better than this first evening, and though I had no chairman and spoke for ninety min- utes without a pause, I was so upheld—there is no other word for the sensation—that I was stronger at the end than when I began. A leading materialist was among my audience. “I am profoundly impressed,” said he to [73] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Mr. Smythe, as he passed him in the corridor. That stood out among many kind messages which reached me that night. My second lecture, two nights later, was on the Re- ligious aspect of the matter. I had shown that the phe- nomena were nothing, mere material signals to arrest the attention of a material world. I had shown also that the personal benefit, the conquest of death, the Communion of Saints, was a high, but not the highest boon. The real full flower of Spiritualism was what the wisdom of the dead could tell us about their own conditions, their present experiences, their outlook upon the secret of the universe, and the testing of religious truth from the viewpoint of two worlds instead of one. The audience was more silent than before, but the silence was that of suspense, not of dissent, as I showed them from message after message what it was exactly which awaited them in the beyond. Even I, who am oblivious as a rule to my audience, became aware that they were tense with feeling and throbbing with emo- tion. I showed how there was no conflict with religion, in spite of the misunderstanding of the churches, and that the revelation had come to extend and explain the old, even as the Christ had said that he had much more to tell but could not do it now. “Entirely new ground was traversed,” says my kindly chronicler, “and the audience listened throughout with rapt attention. They were obviously impressed by the earnestness of the speaker and his masterly presentation of the theme." I cannot answer for the latter but at least I can for the former, since I speak not of what I think but of what I know. How can a man fail to be earnest then? [74] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST A few days later I followed up the lectures by two exhibitions of psychic pictures and photographs upon a screen. It was certainly an amazing experience for those who imagined that the whole subject was dream- land, and they freely admitted that it staggered them. They might well be surprised, for such a series has never been seen, I believe, before, including as it does choice samples from the very best collections. I showed them the record of miracle after miracle, some of them done under my very eyes, one guaranteed by Russell Wallace, three by Sir William Crookes, one of the Geley series from Paris, two of Dr. Crawford's medium with the ecto-plasm pouring from her, four illustrating the absolutely final Lydia Haig case on the island of Rothesay, several of Mr. Jeffrey's collection and several also of our own Society for the Study of Supernormal Pictures, with the fine photograph of the face within a crystal. No wonder that the audience sat spellbound, while the local press declared that no such exhibition had ever been seen before in Australia. It is almost too overwhelming for immediate propaganda purposes. It has a stunning, dazing effect upon the spec- tators. Only afterwards, I think, when they come to turn it all over in their minds, do they see that the final proof has been laid before them, which no one with the least sense for evidence could reject. But the sense for evidence is not, alas, a universal human quality. I am continually aware of direct spirit intervention in my own life. It have put it on record in my “New Revelation" that I was able to say that the turn of the great war would come upon the Piave months before that river was on the Italian war map. This was re- [75] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST corded at the time, before the fulfilment which occurred more than a year later-so it does not depend upon my assertion. Again, I dreamed the name of the ship which was to take us to Australia, rising in the middle of the night and writing it down in pencil on my cheque- book. I wrote Nadera, but it was actually Naldera. I had never heard that such a ship existed until I vis- ited the P. & O. office, when they told me we should go by the Osterley, while I, seeing the Naldera upon the list, thought "No, that will be our ship!” So it proved, through no action of our own, and thereby we were saved from quarantine and all manner of annoyance. Never before have I experienced such direct visible intervention as occurred during my first photographic lecture at Adelaide. I had shown a slide the effect of which depended upon a single spirit face appearing amid a crowd of others. This slide was damp, and as photos under these circumstances always clear from the edges when placed in the lantern, the whole centre was so thickly fogged that I was compelled to admit that I could not myself see the spirit face. Suddenly, as I turned away, rather abashed by my failure, I heard cries of “There it is," and looking up again I saw this single face shining out from the general darkness with so bright and vivid an effect that I never doubted for a moment that the operator was throwing a spot light upon it, my wife sharing my impression. I thought how extraordinarily clever it was that he should pick it out so accurately at the distance. So the matter passed, but next morning Mr. Thomas, the operator, who is not a Spiritualist, came in in great excitement to say that a palpable miracle had been wrought, and that in his [76] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST great experience of thirty years he had never known a photo dry from the centre, nor, as I understood him, become illuminated in such a fashion. Both my wife and I were surprised to learn that he had thrown no ray upon it. Mr. Thornas told us that several experts among the audience had commented upon the strange- ness of the incident. I, therefore, asked Mr. Thomas if he would give me a note as to his own impression, so as to furnish an independent account. This is what he wrote: “Hindmarsh Square, Adelaide. "In Adelaide, on September 28th, I projected a lantern slide containing a group of ladies and gentle- men, and in the centre of the picture, when the slide was reversed, appeared a human face. On the ap- pearance of the picture showing the group the fog incidental to a damp or new slide gradually appeared covering the whole slide, and only after some minutes cleared, and then quite contrary to usual practice did. so from a central point just over the face that ap- peared in the centre, and refused even after that to clear right off to the edge. The general experience is for a slide to clear from the outside edges to a com- mon centre. Your slide cleared only sufficiently in the centré to show the face, and did not, while the slide was on view, clear any more than sufficient to show that face. Thinking that perhaps there might be a scientific explanation to this phenomenon, I hesi- tated before writing you, and in the meantime I have made several experiments but have not in any one particular experiment obtained the same result. I am very much interested—as are hundreds of others who personally witnessed the phenomenon.” Mr. Thomas, in his account, has missed the self- illuminated appearance of the face, but otherwise he [77] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST brings out the points. I never gave occasion for the repetition of the phenomenon, for in every case I was careful that the slides were carefully dried beforehand. So much for the lectures at Adelaide, which were five in all, and left, as I heard from all sides, a deep im- pression upon the town. Of course, the usual abusive messages poured in, including one which wound up with the hearty words: “May you be struck dead be- fore you leave this Commonwealth.” From Melbourne I had news that before our arrival in Australia at a public prayer meeting at the Assembly Hall, Collins Street, a Presbyterian prayed that we might never reach Australia's shores. As we were on the high seas at the time this was clearly a murderous petition, nor could I have believed it if a friend of mine had not actually been present and heard it. On the other hand, we received many letters of sympathy and thanks, which amply atoned. “I feel sure that many mothers, who have lost their sons in the war, will, wherever you go, bless you, as I do, for the help you have given.” As this was the object of our journey it could not be denied that we had attained our end. When I say "we," I mean that such letters with inquiries came con- tinually to my wife as well as myself, though she an- swered them with far greater fullness and clearness than I had time to do. Hotel life began to tell upon the children, who are like horses with a profusion of oats and no exercise. On the whole they were wonderfully good. When some domestic crisis was passed the small voice of Mal- colm, once “Dimples," was heard from the darkness of his bed, saying, “Well, if I am to be good I must have [78] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST a proper start. Please, mammie, say one, two, three, and away!" When this ceremony had been performed a still smaller voice of Baby asked the same favour, so once more there was a formal start. The result was intermittent, and it is as well. I don't believe in angelic children. The Adelaide doctors entertained me to dinner, and I was pleased to meet more than one who had been of my time at Edinburgh. They seemed to be a very pros- perous body of men. There was much interesting con- versation, especially from one elderly professor named Watson, who had known Bully Hayes and other South Sea celebrities in the semi-piratical, black-birding days. He told me one pretty story. They landed upon some outlying island in Carpentaria, peopled by real primi- tive blacks, who were rounded up by the ship's crew on one of the peninsulas which formed the end of the island. These creatures, the lowest of the human race, huddled together in consternation while the white men trained a large camera upon them. Suddenly three males advanced and made a speech in their own tongue which, when interpreted, proved to be an offer that those three should die in exchange for the lives of the tribe. What could the very highest do more than this, and yet it came from the lowest savages. Truly, we all have something of the divine, and it is the very part which will grow and spread until it has burned out all the rest. "Be a Christ!” said brave old Stead. At the end of countless æons we may all reach that point which not only Stead but St. Paul also has fore- shadowed. I refreshed myself between lectures by going out to [79] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Nature and to Bellchambers. As it was twenty-five miles out in the bush, inaccessible by rail, and only to be approached by motor roads which were in parts like the bed of a torrent, I could not take my wife, though the boys, after the nature of boys, enjoy a journey the more for its roughness. It was a day to remember. I saw lovely South Australia in the full beauty of the spring, the budding girlhood of the year, with all her winsome growing graces upon her. The brilliant yel- low wattle was just fading upon the trees, but the sward was covered with star-shaped purple flowers of the knot-grass, and with familiar home flowers, each subtly altered by their transportation. It was wild bush for part of the way, but mostly of the second growth on account of forest fires as much as the woodman's axe. Bellchambers came in to guide us, for there is no one to ask upon these desolate tracks, and it is easy to get bushed. Mr. Waite, the very capable zoologist of the museum, joined the party, and with two such men the conversation soon got to that high nature talk which represents the really permanent things of material life -more lasting than thrones and dynasties. I learned of the strange storks, the "native companions” who meet, 500 at a time, for their stately balls, where in the hush of the bush they advance, retreat, and pirouette in their dignified minuets. I heard of the bower birds, who decorate their homes with devices of glass and pebbles. There was talk, too, of the little red beetles who have such cunning ways that they can fertilise the insectivorous plants without being eaten, and of the great ants who get through galvanised iron by the aid of some acid-squirting insect which they bring with [80] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST them to the scene of their assault. I heard also of the shark's egg which Mr. Waite had raped from sixty feet deep in Sydney Harbour, descending for the pur- pose in a diver's suit, for which I raised my hat to him. Deep things came also from Bellchambers's store of knowledge and little glimpses of beautiful humanity from this true gentleman. “Yes,” he said, “I am mostly vegetarian. You see, I know the beasts too well to bring myself to pick their bones. Yes, I'm friends with most of them. Birds have more sense than animals to my mind. They un- derstand you like. They know what you mean. Snakes have least of any. They don't get friendly- like in the same way. But Nature helps the snakes in queer ways. Some of them hatch their own eggs, and when they do Nature raises the temperature of their bodies. That's queer.” I carried away a mixed memory of the things I had seen. A blue-headed wren, an eagle soaring in the dis- tance; a hideous lizard with a huge open mouth; a laughing jackass which refused to laugh; many more or less tame wallabies and kangaroos; a dear little 'possum which got under the back of my coat, and would not come out; noisy mynah birds which fly ahead and warn the game against the hunter. Good little noisy mynah! All my sympathies are with you! I would do the same if I could. This senseless lust for killing is a disgrace to the race. We, of England, can- not preach, for a pheasant battue is about the worst example of it. But do let the creatures alone unless they are surely noxious! When Mr. Bellchambers told us how he had trained two ibises—the old religious [81] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST variety—and how both had been picked off by some unknown local “sportsman" it made one sad. We had a touch of comedy, however, when Mr. Bellchambers attempted to expose the egg of the Mallee fowl, which is covered a foot deep in mould. He scraped into the mound with his hands. The cock watched him with an expression which clearly said: “Confound the fellow! What is he up to now?" He then got on the mound, and as quickly as Bellchambers shovelled the earth out he kicked it back again, Bell- chambers in his good humoured way crying, "Get along with you, do!” A good husband is the Mallee cock, and looks after the family interests. But what we humans would think if we were born deep underground and had to begin our career by digging our way to the surface, is beyond imagination. There are quite a clan of Bellchambers living in or near the little pioneer's hut built in a clearing of the bush. Mrs. Bellchambers is of Sussex, as is her hus- band, and when they heard that we were fresh from Sussex also it was wonderful to see the eager look that came upon their faces, while the bush-born children could scarce understand what it was that shook the solid old folk to their marrow. On the walls were old prints of the Devil's Dyke and Firle Beacon. How strange that old Sussex should be wearing out its very life in its care for the fauna of young Australia. This remarkable man is unpaid with only his scanty holding upon which to depend, and many dumb mouths dependent upon him. I shall rejoice if my efforts in the local press serve to put his affairs upon a more [82] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST worthy foundation, and to make South Australia real- ise what a valuable instrument lies to her hand. Before I left Adelaide I learned many pleasing things about the lectures, which did away with any shadow cast by those numerous correspondents who seemed to think that we were still living under the Mosaic dis- pensation, and who were so absent-minded that they usually forgot to sign their names. It is a curious dif- ference between the Christian letters of abuse and those of materialists, that the former are usually anonymous and the latter signed. I heard of one man, a lame stock- man, who had come 300 miles from the other side of Streaky Bay to attend the whole course, and who de- clared that he could listen all night. Another seized my hand and cried, “You will never know the good you have done in this town.” Well, I hope it was so, but I only regard myself as the plough. Others must follow with the seed. Knowledge, perseverance, sanity, judg- ment, courage—we ask some qualities from our dis- ciples if they are to do real good. Talking of moral courage I would say that the Governor of South Aus- tralia, Sir Archibald Weigall, with Lady Weigall, had no hesitation in coming to support me with their pres- ence. By the end of September this most successful mission in Adelaide was accomplished, and early in October we were on our way to Melbourne, which meant a long night in the train and a few hours of the next morning during which we saw the surface dig- gings of Ballarat on every side of the railway line, the sandy soil pitted in every direction with the shallow claims of the miners. [83] CHAPTER IV Speculations on Paul and his Master.—Arrival at Melbourne. -Attack in the Argus.-Partial press boycott.-Strength of the movement. The Prince of Wales.- Victorian football.-Rescue Circle in Melbourne.—Burke and Wills' statue.-Success of the lectures.-Reception at the Auditorium.—Luncheon of the British Empire League. -Mr. Ryan's experience.—The Federal Government.- Mr. Hughes' personality. The mediumship of Charles Bailey.-His alleged exposure.- His remarkable record. -A second sitting.–The Indian nest.-A remarkable lecture.--Arrival of Lord Forster.—The future of the Empire.-Kindness of Australians.—Prohibition.- Horse-racing.-Roman Catholic policy. ONE cannot help speculating about those great ones who first carried to the world the Christian revelation. What were their domestic ties! There is little said about them, but we should never have known that Peter had a wife were it not for a chance allusion to his mother-in-law, just as another chance allusion shows us that Jesus was one of a numerous family. One thing can safely be said of Paul, that he was either a bachelor or else was a domestic bully with a very submissive wife, or he would never have dared to express his well known views about women. As to his preaching, he had a genius for making a clear thing obscure, even as Jesus had a genius for making an obscure thing clear. Read the Sermon on the Mount and then a chapter of Paul as a contrast in styles. Apart from his style one can reconstruct him as a preacher to the extent that he [84] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST had a powerful voice-no one without one could speak from the historic rocky pulpit on the hill of Mars at Athens, as I ascertained for myself. The slope is downwards, sound ascends, and the whole conditions are abominable. He was certainly long-winded and probably monotonous in his diction, or he could hardly have reduced one of his audience to such a deep sleep that he fell out of the window. We may add that he was a man of brisk courage in an emergency, that he was subject to such sudden trances that he was occa- sionally unaware himself whether he was normal or not, and that he was probably short-sighted, as he mis- took the person who addressed him, and had his letters usually written for him. At least three languages were at his command, he had an intimate and practical knowledge of the occult, and was an authority upon Jewish law-a good array of accomplishments for one man. There are some points about Paul's august Master which also help in a reconstruction of Himself and His surroundings. That His mother was opposed to His mission is, I think, very probable. Women are dubious about spiritual novelties, and one can well be- lieve that her heart ached to see her noble elder son turn from the sure competence of His father's business at Nazareth to the precarious existence of a wandering preacher. This domestic opposition clouded Him as one can see in the somewhat cold, harsh words which He used to her, and his mode of address which began simply as “Woman." His assertion to the disciples that one who followed His path had to give up his family points to the same thing. No doubt Mary re- [85] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST mained with the younger branches at Nazareth while Jesus pursued His ministry, though she came, as any mother would, to be near Him at the end. Of His own personality we know extraordinarily little, considering the supreme part that He played in the world. That He was a highly trained psychic, or as we should say, medium, is obvious to anyone who studies the miracles, and it is certainly not derogatory to say that they were done along the line of God's law rather than that they were inversions of it. I cannot doubt also that he chose his apostles for their psychic powers—if not, on what possible principle were they selected, since they were neither staunch nor learned ? It is clear that Peter and James and John were the inner circle of psychics, since they were assembled both at the transfiguration and at the raising of Jairus' daughter. It is from unlearned open-air men who are near Nature that the highest psychic powers are ob- tained. It has been argued that the Christ was an Essene, but this seems hard to believe, as the Essenes were not only secluded from the world, but were cer- tainly vegetarians and total abstainers, while Jesus was neither. On the other hand baptism was not a Jewish rite, and his undergoing it—if He did, indeed, undergo it-marks Him as belonging to some dissenting sect. I say "if He did” because it is perfectly certain that there were forgeries and interpolations introduced into the Gospels in order to square their teaching with the prac- tice of the Church some centuries later. One would look for those forgeries not in the ordinary narrative, which in the adult years bears every mark of truth, but in the passages which support ceremonial or tributes to [86] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST the Church-such as the allusions to baptism, “Unless a man be born again,” to the sacrament, “This is my body, etc.," and the whole story of Ananias and Sap- phira, the moral of which is that it is dangerous to hold anything back from the Church. Physically I picture the Christ as an extremely pow- erful man. I have known several famous healers and they were all men who looked as if they had redundant health and strength to give to others. His words to the sick woman, “Who has touched me ? Much power" (dunamis is the word in the original Greek) “has gone out of me,” show that His system depended upon His losing what He gave to others. Therefore He was a very strong man. The mere feat of carrying a wooden cross strong enough to bear a man from Jerusalem to Calvary, up a hill, is no light one. It is the details which convince me that the gospel narrative is correct and really represents an actual event. Take the inci- dent during that sad journey of Simon of Cyrene hav- ing helped for a time with the cross. Why should any- one invent such a thing, putting an actual name to the person? It is touches of this kind which place the nar- rative beyond all suspicion of being a pure invention. Again and again in the New Testament one is con- fronted with incidents which a writer of fiction recog- nises as being beyond the reach of invention, because the inventor does not put in things which have no di- rect bearing upon the matter in hand. Take as an ex- ample how the maid, seeing Peter outside the door after his escape from prison, ran back to the guests and said that it was his angel (or etheric body) which was [87] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST outside. Such an episode could only have been re- corded because it actually occurred. But these be deep waters. Let me get back to my own humble experiences, these interpolated thoughts being but things which have been found upon the way- side of our journey. On reaching Melbourne we were greeted at the station by a few devoted souls who had waited for two trains before they found us. Covered with the flowers which they had brought we drove to Menzies Hotel, whence we moved a few days later to a flat in the Grand, where we were destined to spend five eventful weeks. We found the atmosphere and gen- eral psychic conditions of Melbourne by no means as pleasant or receptive as those of Adelaide, but this of course was very welcome as the greater the darkness the more need of the light. If Spiritualism had been a popular cult in Australia there would have been no ob- ject in my visit. I was welcome enough as an individ- ual, but by no means so as an emissary, and both the Churches and the Materialists, in most unnatural com- bination, had done their best to make the soil stony for me. Their chief agent had been the Argus, a solid, stodgy paper, which amply fulfilled the material needs of the public, but was not given to spiritual vision. This paper before my arrival had a very violent and abusive leader which attracted much attention, full of such terms as "black magic," "Shamanism," "witch- craft," "freak religion," "cranky faith," "cruelty," "black evil," "poison,” finishing up with the assertion that I represented "a force which we believe to be purely evil.” This was from a paper which whole- heartedly supports the liquor interest, and has endless [88] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST columns of betting and racing news, nor did its prin- ciples cause it to refuse substantial sums for the adver- tising of my lectures. Still, however arrogant or illog- ical, I hold that a paper has a perfect right to publish and uphold its own view, nor would I say that the sub- sequent refusal of the Argus to print any answer to its tirade was a real breach of the ethics of journalism. Where its conduct became outrageous, however, and where it put itself beyond the pale of all literary de- cency, was when it reported my first lecture by describ- ing my wife's dress, my own voice, the colour of my spectacles, and not a word of what I said. It capped this by publishing so-called answers to me by Canon Hughes, and by Bishop Phelan—critics whose knowl- edge of the subject seemed to begin and end with the witch of Endor—while omitting the statements to which these answers applied. Never in any British town have I found such reactionary intolerance as in this great city, for though the Argus was the chief offender, the other papers were as timid as rabbits in the matter. My psychic photographs which, as I have said, are the most wonderful collection ever shown in the world, were received in absolute silence by the whole press, though it is notorious that if I had come there with a comic opera or bedroom comedy instead of with the evidence of a series of miracles, I should have had a column. This seems to have been really due to moral cowardice, and not to ignorance, for I saw a private letter afterwards in which a sub-editor remarked that he and the chief leader-writer had both seen the photo- graphs and that they could see no possible answer to them. [89] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST There was another and more pleasing side to the local conditions, and that lay in the numbers who had already mastered the principles of Spiritualism, the richer classes as individuals, the poorer as organised churches. They were so numerous that when we re- ceived an address of welcome in the auditorium to which only Spiritualists were invited by ticket, the Hall, which holds two thousand, was easily filled. This would mean on the same scale that the Spiritualists of London could fill the Albert Hall several times over- as no doubt they could. Their numbers were in a sense an embarrassment, as I always had the fear that I was addressing the faithful instead of those whom I had come so far to instruct. On the whole, their quality and organisation were disappointing. They had a splendid spiritual paper in their midst, the Harbinger of Light, which has run for fifty years, and is most ably edited by Mr. Britton Harvey. When I think of David Gow, Ernest Oaten, John Lewis and Britton Harvey I feel that our cause is indeed well represented by its press. They have also some splendid local workers, like Bloomfield and Tozer, whole-hearted and apostolic. But elsewhere there is the usual tendency to divide and to run into vulgarities and extravagances in which the Spiritual has small share. Discipline is needed, which involves central powers, and that in turn means com- mand of the purse. It would be far better to have no Spiritual churches than some I have seen. However, I seem to have got to some of my final conclusions at Melbourne before I have begun our ac- tual experience there. We found the place still full of rumours and talk about the recent visit of the Prince [90] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST rules, for the chivalrous reason that he was himself the fastest runner in the Colony, and he did not wish to give himself any advantage. There is not so much man- handling in the Victorian game, and to that extent it is less dramatic, but it is extraordinarily open and fast, with none of the packed scrums which become so weari- some, and with linesmen who throw in the ball the in- stant it goes out. There were several points in which the players seemed better than our best-one was the accurate passing by low drop kicking, very much quicker and faster than a pass by hand. Another was the great accuracy of the place kicking and of the screw kicking when a runner would kick at right angles to his course. There were four long quarters, and yet the men were in such condition that they were going hard at the end. They are all, I understand, semi-profes- sionals. Altogether it was a very fine display, and the crowd was much excited. It was suggestive that the instant the last whistle blew a troop of mounted police cantered over the ground and escorted the referees to the safety of the pavilion. I began at once to endeavor to find out the conditions of local Spiritualism, and had a long conversation with Mr. Tozer, the chairman of the movement, a slow-talking, steady-eyed man, of the type that gets a grip and does not easily let go. After explaining the general situation, which needs some ex- planation as it is full of currents and cross-currents caused by individual schisms and secessions, he told me in his gentle, earnest way some of his own experiences in his home circle which corroborate much which I have heard elsewhere. He has run a rescue circle for the in- struction of the lower spirits who are so material that [92] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST they can be reached more easily by humanity than by the higher angels. The details he gave me were al- most the same as those given by Mr. MacFarlane of Southsea, who had a similar circle of which Mr. Tozer had certainly never heard. A wise spirit control domi- nates the proceedings. The medium goes into trance. The spirit control then explains what it is about to do, and who the spirit is who is about to be reformed. The next scene is often very violent, the medium having to be held down and using rough language. This comes from some low spirit who has suddenly found this means of expressing himself. At other times the lan- guage is not violent but only melancholy, the spirit de- claring that he is abandoned and has not a friend in the universe. Some do not realise that they are dead, but only that they wander all alone, under conditions they could not understand, in a cloud of darkness. Then comes the work of regeneration. They are reasoned with and consoled. Gradually they become more gentle. Finally, they accept the fact that they are spirits, that their condition is their own making, and that by aspiration and repentance they can win their way to the light. When one has found the path and has returned thanks for it, another case is treated. As a rule these errant souls are unknown to fame. Often they are clergymen whose bigotry has hindered devel- opment. Occasionally some great sinner of the past may come into view. I have before me a written lament professing to come from Alva, the bigoted gov- ernor of the Lowlands. It is gruesome enough. "Pic- ture to yourself the hell I was in. Blood, blood every- where, corpses on all sides, gashed, maimed, mutilated, [93] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST quivering with agony and bleeding at every pore! At the same time thousands of voices were raised in bit- ter reproaches, in curses and execrations! Imagine the appalling spectacle of this multitude of the dead and dying, fresh from the flames, from the sword, the rack, the torture chambers and the gibbet; and the pande- monium of voices shrieking out the most terrible male- dictions! Imagine never being able to get away from these sights and sounds, and then tell me, was I not in hell?—a hell of greater torment than that to which I be- lieved all heretics were consigned. Such was the hell of the 'bloody Alva,' from which I have been rescued by what seems to me a great merciful dispensation of Almighty God." Sometimes in Mr. Tozer's circle the souls of ancient clerics who have slumbered long show their first signs of resuscitation, still bearing their old-world intoler- ance with them. The spirit control purports to be a well-educated Chinaman, whose presence and air of authority annoy the ecclesiastics greatly. · The petri- fied mind leads to a long period of insensibility which means loss of ground and of time in the journey towards happiness. I was present at the return of one alleged Anglican bishop of the eighteenth century, who spoke with great intolerance. When asked if he had seen the Christ he answered that he had not and that he could not understand it. When asked if he still con- sidered the Christ to be God he threw up his hand and shouted violently, “Stop! That is blasphemy!” The Chinese control said, “He stupid man. Let him wait. He learn better"-and removed him. He was succeeded by a very noisy and bigoted Puritan [94] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Mr. Smythe, my agent, had been unfortunate in being unable to secure one of the very few large halls in Melbourne, so we had to confine ourselves to the Play- house which has only seating for about 1,200. Here I opened on October 5th, following my lectures up in the same order as in Adelaide. The press was very shy, but nothing could have exceeded the warmth and re- ceptivity of my hearers. Yet on account of the inade- quate reports of the press, with occasional total sup- pression, no one who was not present could have imag- ined how packed was the house, or how unanimous the audience. On October 14th the Spiritualists filled the Audi- torium and had a special service of welcome for our- selves. When I went down to it in the tram, the con- ductor, unaware of my identity, said, when I asked to be put down at the Auditorium, “It's no use, sir; it's jam full an hour ago.” “The Pilgrims," as they called us, were in special seats, the seven of us all in a line upon the right of the chair. Many kind things were said, and I replied as best I might. The children will carry the remembrance of that warm-hearted reception through their lives, and they are not likely to forget how they staggered home, laden with the flowers which were literally heaped upon them. The British Empire League also entertained my wife and myself to lunch, a very select company assembling who packed the room. Sir Joseph Cook, Federal Chan- cellor of the Exchequer, made a pleasant speech, recall- ing our adventures upon the Somme, when he had his baptism of fire. In my reply I pulled the leg of my audience with some success, for I wound up by saying, [96] Photo: Stirling, Melbourne. MELBOURNE, NOVEMBER, 1920. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST very solemnly, that I was something greater than Gov- ernments and the master of Cabinet Ministers. By the time I had finished my tremendous claims I am con- vinced that they expected some extravagant occult pre- tension, whereas I actually wound up with the words, "for I am the man in the street.” There was a good deal of amusement caused. Mr. Thomas Ryan, a very genial and capable mem- ber of the State Legislature, took the chair at this func- tion. He had no particular psychic knowledge, but he was deeply impressed by an experience in London in the presence of that remarkable little lady, Miss Scatch- erd. Mr. Ryan had said that he wanted some evidence before he could accept psychic philosophy, upon which Miss Scatcherd said: “There is a spirit beside you now. He conveys to me that his name is Roberts. He says he is worried in his mind because the home which you prepared for his widow has not been legally made over to her.” All this applied to a matter in Adelaide. In that city, according to Mr. Ryan, a séance was held that night, Mr. Victor Cromer being the medium, at which a message came through from Roberts saying that he was now easy in his mind as he had managed to convey his trouble to Mr. Ryan who could set it right. When these psychic laws are understood the dead as well as the living will be relieved from a load of un- necessary care; but how can these laws be ignored or pooh-poohed in the face of such instances as this which I have quoted? They are so numerous now that it is hardly an exaggeration to say that every circle of hu- man beings which meets can supply one. Mr. Hughes was good enough to ask me to meet the [97] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST members of the Federal Government at lunch, and the experience was an interesting one, for here round one small table were those who were shaping the course of this young giant among the nations. They struck me as a practical hard-worked rough-and-ready lot of men. Mr. Hughes dominated the conversation, which neces- sarily becomes one-sided as he is very deaf, though his opponents say that he has an extraordinary knack of hearing what he is not meant to hear. He told us a series of anecdotes of his stormy political youth with a great deal of vivacity, the whole company listening in silence. He is a hard, wiry man, with a high-nosed Red Indian face, and a good deal of healthy devilry in his composition—a great force for good during the war. After lunch he conducted me through the library, and coming to a portrait of Clemenceau he cried: “That's the man I learned to admire in Europe.” Then, turning to one of Wilson, he added, “And that's the man I learned to dislike.” He added a number of in- stances of Wilson's ignorance of actual conditions, and of his ungenial coldness of heart. "If he had not been so wrapped in himself, and if he had taken Lodge or some other Republican with him, all could have easily been arranged." I feel that I am not indiscreet in re- peating this, for Hughes is not a man who conceals his opinions from the world. I have been interested in the medium Bailey, who was said to have been exposed in France in 1910. The curious will find the alleged exposure in "Annals of Psychical Science," Vol. IX. Bailey is an apport me- dium—that is to say, that among his phenomena is the [98] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST bringing of objects which are said to come from a dis- tance, passing through the walls and being precipi- tated down upon the table. These objects are of the strangest description — Assyrian tablets (real or forged), tortoises, live birds, snakes, precious stones, etc. In this case, after being searched by the commit- tee, he was able to produce two live birds in the séance room. At the next sitting the committee proposed an obscene and absurd examination of the medium, which he very rightly resented and refused. They then confidently declared that on the first occasion the two live birds were in his intestines, a theory so absurd that it shakes one's confidence in their judgment. They had, however, some more solid grounds for a charge against him, for they produced a married couple who swore that they had sold three such birds with a cage to Bailey some days before. This Bailey denied, point- ing out that he could neither speak French, nor had he ever had any French money, which Professor Reichel, who brought him from Australia, corroborated. How- ever, the committee considered the evidence to be final, and the séances came to an end, though Colonel de Rochas, the leading member, wound up the incident by writing: "Are we to conclude from the fraud that we have witnessed that all Bailey's apports may have been fraudulent? I do not think so, and this is also the opinion of the members of the committee, who have had much experience with mediums and are conver- sant with the literature of the subject.” Reading the alleged exposure, one is struck, as so often in such cases, with its unsatisfactory nature. There is the difficulty of the language and the money. [99] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST There is the disappearance of the third bird and the cage. Above all, how did the birds get into the care- fully guarded séance room, especially as Bailey was put in a bag during the proceedings? The committee say the bag may not have been efficient, but they also state that Bailey desired the control to be made more effective. Altogether it is a puzzling case. On my applying to Bailey himself for information, he declared roundly that he had been the victim of a theological plot with suborned evidence. The only slight support which I can find for that view is that there was a Rev. Doctor among his accusers. I was told independently that Professor Reichel, before his death in 1918, came also to the conclusion that there had been a plot. But in any case most of us will agree with Mr. Stanford, Bailey's Australian patron, that the committee would have been wise to say nothing, continue the sittings, and use their knowledge to get at some more complete conclusion. With such a record one had to be on one's guard with Mr. Bailey. I had a sitting in my room at the hotel to which I invited ten guests, but the results were not impressive. We saw so-called spirit hands, which were faintly luminous, but I was not allowed to grasp them, and they were never further from the medium than he could have reached. All this was suspicious but not conclusive. On the other hand, there was an attempt at a materialisation of a head, which took the form of a luminous patch, and seemed to some of the sitters to be further from the cabinet than could be reached. We had an address purporting to come from the control, Dr. Whitcombe, and we also had a message [100] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST written in bad Italian. On the whole, it was one of those baffling sittings which leave a vague unpleasant impression, and there was a disturbing suggestion of cuffs about those luminous hands. I have been reading Bailey's record, however, and I cannot doubt that he has been a great apport medium. The results were far above all possible fraud, both in the conditions and in the articles brought into the room by spirit power. For example, I have a detailed account published by Dr. C. W. McCarthy, of Sydney, under the title, “Rigid Tests of the Occult.” During these tests Bailey was sealed up in a bag, and in one case was inside a cage of mosquito curtain. The door and win- dows were secured and the fire-place blocked. The sit- ters were all personal friends, but they mutually searched each other. The medium was stripped naked before the séance. Under these stringent conditions dur- ing a series of six sittings 138 articles were brought into the room, which included eighty-seven ancient coins (mostly of Ptolemy), eight live birds, eighteen precious stones of modest value and varied character, two live turtles, seven inscribed Babylonian tablets, one Egyptian Scarabæus, an Arabic newspaper, a leopard skin, four nests and many other things. It seems to me perfect nonsense to talk about these things being the results of trickery. I may add that at a previous test meeting they had a young live shark about 1/2 feet long, which was tangled with wet seaweed and flopped about on the table. Dr. McCarthy gives a photograph of the creature. My second sitting with Bailey was more successful than the first. On his arrival I and others searched [101] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST dition of the egg, which certainly seems remarkable. "Where did it come from?" I asked. “From India.” "What bird is it?” “They call it the jungle sparrow." The nest remained in my possession, and I spent a morning with Mr. Chubb, of the local museum, to as- certain if it was really the nest of such a bird. It seemed too small for an Indian sparrow, and yet we could not match either nest or egg among the Australian types. Some of Mr. Bailey's other nests and eggs have been actually identified. Surely it is a fair argument that while it is conceivable that such birds might be imported and purchased here, it is really an insult to one's reason to suppose that nests with fresh eggs in them could also be in the market. There- fore I can only support the far more extended experi- ence and elaborate tests of Dr. McCarthy of Sydney, and affirm that I believe Mr. Charles Bailey to be upon occasion a true medium, with a very remarkable gift for apports. It is only right to state that when I returned to Lon- don I took one of Bailey's Assyrian tablets to the Brit- ish Museum and that it was pronounced to be a forgery. Upon further inquiry it proved that these forgeries are made by certain Jews in a suburb of Bag- dad-and, so far as is known, only there. Therefore the matter is not much further advanced. To the trans- porting agency it is at least possible that the forgery, steeped in recent human magnetism, is more capable of being handled than the original taken from a mound. Bailey has produced at least a hundred of these things, [103] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST of course I agree that it is only a rough analogy. On my asking if there were libraries and facilities for spe- cial study in the next world, he said that there certainly were, but that instead of studying books they usually studied the actual objects themselves. All he said was full of dignity and wisdom. It was curious to notice that, learned as he was, Dr. Whitcombe always referred back with reverence to Dr. Robinson, another control not present at the moment, as being the real expert. I am told that some of Dr. Robinson's addresses have fairly amazed the specialists. I notice that Col. de Rochas in his report was equally impressed by Bailey's controls. I fear that my psychic experiences are pushing my travels into the background, but I warned the reader that it might be so when first we joined hands. To get back to the earth, let me say that I saw the procession when the new Governor-General, Lord Forster, with his charming wife, made their ceremonial entry into Melbourne, with many workman-like Commonwealth troops before and behind their carriage. I knew Lord Forster of old, for we both served upon a committee over the Olympic Games, so that he gave quite a start of surprised recognition when his quick eye fell upon my face in the line of spectators. He is a man who cannot fail to be popular here, for he has the physical as well as the mental qualities. Our stay in Melbourne was afterwards made more pleasant by the gracious courtesy of Government House for, apart from attend- ing several functions, we were invited to a special din- ner, after which I exhibited upon a screen my fairy portraits and a few of my other very wonderful [105] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST psychic photographs. It was not an occasion when I could preach, but no quick intelligence could be brought in contact with such phenomena without asking itself very seriously what lay behind them. When that ques- tion is earnestly asked the battle is won. One asks oneself what will be the end of this system of little viceroys in each State and a big viceroy in the Capital—however capable and excellent in themselves such viceroys may be. The smaller courts are, I un- derstand, already doomed, and rightly so, since there is no need for them and nothing like them elsewhere. There is no possible purpose that they serve save to im- pose a nominal check, which is never used, upon the legislation. The Governor-Generalship will last no doubt until Australia cuts the painter, or we let go our end of it, whichever may come first. Personally, I have no fear of Britain's power being weakened by a separation of her dominions. Close allies which were independent might be a greater source of moral strength than actual dependencies. When the sons leave the father's house and rule their own homes, becoming fathers in turn, the old man is not weakened thereby. Certainly I desire no such change, but if it came I would bear it with philosophy. I hope that the era of great military crises is for ever past, but, if it should recur, I am sure that the point of view would be the same, and that the starry Union Jack of the great Australian nation would still fly beside the old flag which was its model. If one took a Machiavellian view of British interests one would say that to retain a colony the surest way is not to remove any danger which may threaten her. We [106] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST made a serious effort to attract to the northern terri- tories those Italians who are flooding the Argentine. It is great blood and no race is the poorer for it—the blood of ancient Rome. They are used to semi-tropical heat and to hard work in bad conditions if there be only hope ahead. Perhaps the policy of the future may turn in that direction. If that one weak spot be guarded then it seems to me that in the whole world there is no community, save only the United States, which is so safe from outside attack as Australia. In- ternal division is another matter, but there Australia is in some ways stronger than the States. She has no negro question, and the strife between Capital and Labour is not likely to be so formidable. I wonder, by the way, how many people in the United States realise that this small community lost as many men as America did in the great war. We were struck also by the dignified resignation with which this fact was faced, and by the sense of proportion which was shown in estimating the sacrifices of various nations. We like the people here very much more than we had expected to, for one hears in England exaggerated stories of their democratic bearing. When democracy takes the form of equality one can get along with it, but when it becomes rude and aggressive one would avoid it. Here one finds a very pleasing good fellow- ship which no one would object to. Again and again we have met with little acts of kindness from people in shops or in the street, which were not personal to ourselves, but part of their normal good manners. If you ask the way or any other information, strangers will take trouble to put you right. They are kindly, [108] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST, domestic and straight in speech and in dealings. Mate- rialism and want of vision in the broader affairs of life seem to be the national weakness, but that may be only a passing phase, for when a nation has such a gigantic material proposition as this continent to handle it is natural that their thoughts should run on the wool and the wheat and the gold by which it can be accomplished. I am bound to say, however, that I think every patriotic Australian should vote, if not for prohibition, at least for the solution which is most dear to myself, and that is the lowering of the legal standard of alcohol in any drink. We have been shocked and astonished by the number of young men of decent exterior whom we have seen staggering down the street, often quite early in the day. The Biblical test for drunkenness, that it was not yet the third hour, would not apply to them. I hear that bad as it is in the big towns it is worse in the small ones, and worst of all in the northern terri- tories and other waste places where work is particularly needed. It must greatly decrease the national efficiency. A recent vote upon the question in Victoria only car- ried total abstinence in four districts out of about 200, but a two-third majority was needed to do it. On the other hand a trial of strength in Queensland, generally supposed to be rather a rowdy State, has shown that the temperance men all combined can out-vote the others. Therefore it is certain that reform will not be long delayed. The other curse of the country, which is a real drag upon its progress, is the eternal horse-racing. It goes on all the year round, though it has its more virulent bouts, as for example during our visit to this town [109] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST when the Derby, the Melbourne Cup, and Oaks suc- ceeded each other. They call it sport, but I fear that in that case I am no sportsman. I would as soon call the roulette-table a sport. The whole population is un- settled and bent upon winning easy money, which dis- satisfies them with the money that has to be worked for. Every shop is closed when the Cup is run, and you have lift-boys, waiters and maids all backing their fancies, not with half-crowns but with substantial sums. The danger to honesty is obvious, and it came under our own notice that it is not imaginary. Of course we are by no means blameless in England, but it only attacks a limited class, while here it seems to the stranger to be almost universal. In fact it is so bad that it is sure to get better, for I cannot conceive that any sane nation will allow it to continue. The book- makers, however, are a powerful guild, and will fight tooth and nail. The Catholic Church, I am sorry to say, uses its considerable influence to prevent drink reform by legislation, and I fear that it will not support the anti-gamblers either. I wonder from what hidden spring, from what ignorant Italian camarilla, this ven- erable and in some ways admirable Church gets its secular policy, which must have central direction, since it is so consistent! When I remember the recent se- quence of world events and the part played by that Church, the attack upon the innocent Dreyfus, the refusal to support reform in the Congo, and finally the obvious leaning towards the Central Powers who were clearly doomed to lose, one would think that it was ruled by a Council of Lunatics. These matters bear no relation to faith or dogma, so that one wonders [110] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST that the sane Catholics have not risen in protest. No doubt the better class laymen are ahead of the clergy in this as in other religious organisations. I cannot forget how the Duke of Norfolk sent me a cheque for the Congo Reform Movement at the very time when we could not get the Catholic Church to line up with the other sects at a Reform Demonstration at the Albert Hall. In this country also there were many brave and loyal Cati.olics who took their own line against Cardinal Mannix upon the question of con- scription, when that Cardinal did all that one man could do to bring about the defeat of the free nations in the great war. How he could face an American audience afterwards, or how such an audience could tolerate him, is hard to understand. [1] CHAPTER V More English than the English.—A day in the Bush. Immigration.- A case of spirit return.-A Séance.- Geelong.-The lava plain.-Good-nature of General Ryrie.—Bendigo.—Down a gold mine.-Prohibition v. Continuance.-Mrs. Knight MacLellan.-Nerrim.-A wild drive.-Electric shearing.–Rich sheep stations.- Cockatoo farmers.-Spinnifex and Mallee.-Rabbits.- The great marsh. In some ways the Australians are more English than the English. We have been imperceptibly American- ised, while our brethren over the sea have kept the old type. The Australian is less ready to show emotion, cooler in his bearing, more restrained in applause, more devoted to personal liberty, keener on sport, and quieter in expression (as witness the absence of scare lines in the papers) than our people are. Indeed, they re- mind me more of the Scotch than the English, and Mel- bourne on a Sunday, without posts, or Sunday papers, or any amenity whatever, is like the Edinburgh of my boyhood. Sydney is more advanced. There are curi- ous anomalies in both towns. Their telephone systems are so bad that they can only be balanced against each other, for they are in a class by themselves. One smiles when one recollects that one used to grumble at the London lines. On the other hand the tramway services in both towns are wonderful, and so continuous that one never hastens one's step to catch a tram since an- [112] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST other comes within a minute. The Melbourne trams have open bogey cars in front, which make a drive a real pleasure. One of our pleasant recollections in the early days of our Melbourne visit was a day in the bush with Mr. Henry Stead and his wife. My intense admira- tion for the moral courage and energy of the father made it easy for me to form a friendship with his son, who has shown the family qualities by the able way in which he has founded and conducted an excellent journal, Stead's Monthly. Australia was lucky ever to get such an immigrant as that, for surely an honest, fearless and clear-headed publicist is the most valuable man that a young country, whose future is one long problem play, could import. We spent our day in the Dandenong Hills, twenty miles from Melbourne, in a little hostel built in a bush clearing and run by one Lucas, of good English cricket stock, his father having played for Sussex. On the way we passed Madame Melba's place at Lilydale, and the wonderful woods with their strange tree-ferns seemed fit cover for such a singing bird. Coming back in Stead's light American car we tried a short cut down roads which proved to be almost impossible. A rather heavier car ahead of us, with two youths in it, got embedded in the mud, and we all dismounted to heave it out. There suddenly appeared on the lonely road an enormous coloured man; he looked like a cross between negro and black fellow. He must have lived in some hut in the woods, but the way his huge form suddenly rose beside us was quite surprising. He stood in gloomy majesty surveying our efforts, and repeating a series of sentences which re- [113] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST minded one of German exercises. “I have no jack. I had a jack. Some one has taken my jack. This is called a road. It is not a road. There is no road." We finally levered out the Australian car, for which, by the way, neither occupant said a word of thanks, and then gave the black giant a shilling, which he re- ceived as a keeper takes his toll. On looking back I am not sure that this slough of despond is not care- fully prepared by this negro, who makes a modest income by the tips which he gets from the unfortunates who get bogged in it. No keeper ever darted out to a trap quicker than he did when the car got stuck. Stead agreed with me that the Australians do not take a big enough view of their own destiny. They- or the labour party, to be more exact-are inclined to buy the ease of the moment at the cost of the greatness of their continental future. They fear immigration lest it induce competition and pull down prices. It is a natural attitude. And yet that little fringe of people on the edge of that huge island can never adequately handle it. It is like an enormous machine with a six horsepower engine to drive it. I have a great sym- pathy with their desire to keep the British stock as pure as possible. But the land needs the men, and somewhere they must be found. I cannot doubt that they would become loyal subjects of the Empire which had adopted them. I have wondered sometimes whether in Lower California and the warmer States of the Union there may not be human material for Australia Canada has received no more valuable stock than from the American States, so it might be that another portion of the Union would find the very [114] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST stamp of man that Queensland and the north require. The American likes a big gamble and a broad life with plenty of elbow-room. Let him bring his cotton seeds over to semi-tropical Australia and see what he can make of it there. To pass suddenly to other-worldly things, which are my mission. People never seem to realise the plain fact that one positive result must always outweigh a hundred negative ones. It only needs one single case of spirit return to be established, and there is no more to be said. Incidentally, how absurd is the position of those wiseacres who say "nine-tenths of the phenomena are fraud.” Can they not see that if they grant us one-tenth, they grant us our whole contention? These remarks are elicited by a case which occurred in 1883 in Melbourne, and which should have con- verted the city as surely as if an angel had walked down Collins Street. Yet nearly forty years later I find it as stagnant and material as any city I have ever vis- ited. The facts are these, well substantiated by doc- umentary and official evidence. Mr. Junor Browne, a well-known citizen, whose daughter afterwards married Mr. Alfred Deakin, subsequently Premier, had two sons, Frank and Hugh. Together with a seaman named Murray they went out into the bay in their yacht the Iolanthe, and they never returned. The father was fortunately a Spiritualist and upon the second day of their absence, after making all normal in- quiries, he asked a sensitive, Mr. George Spriggs, formerly of Cardiff, if he would trace them. Mr. Spriggs collected some of the young men's belong- ings, so as to get their atmosphere, and then he was [115] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST able by psychometry to give an account of their move- ments, the last which he could see of them being that they were in trouble upon the yacht and that confusion seemed to reign aboard her. Two days later, as no further news was brought in, the Browne family held a séance, Mr. Spriggs being the medium. He fell into trance and the two lads, who had been trained in spiritual knowledge and knew the possibilities, at once came through. They expressed their contrition to their mother, who had desired them not to go, and they then gave a clear account of the capsizing of the yacht, and how they had met their death, adding that they had found themselves after death in the exact physical con- ditions of happiness and brightness which their father's teaching had led them to expect. They brought with them the seaman Murray, who also said a few words. Finally Hugh, speaking through the medium, informed Mr. Browne that Frank's arm and part of his clothing had been torn off by a fish. "A shark ?” asked Mr. Browne. "Well, it was not like any shark I have seen." Mark the sequel. Some weeks later a large shark of a rare deep-sea species, unknown to the fishermen, and quite unlike the ordinary blue shark with which the Brownes were familiar, was taken at Frankston, about twenty-seven miles from Melbourne. Inside it was found the bone of a human arm, and also a watch, some coins, and other articles which had belonged to Frank Browne. These facts were all brought out in the papers at the time, and Mr. Browne put much of it on record in print before the shark was taken, or any word of the missing men had come by normal [116] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST, means. The facts are all set forth in a little book by Mr. Browne himself, called “A Rational Faith.” What have fraudulent mediums and all the other decoys to do with such a case as that, and is it not perfectly con- vincing to any man who is not perverse? Personally, I value it not so much for the evidence of survival, since we have that so complete already, but for the detailed account given by the young men of their new conditions, so completely corroborating what so many young officers, cut off suddenly in the war, have said of their experience. “Mother, if you could see how happy we are, and the beautiful home we are in, you would not weep except for joy. I feel so light in my spiritual body and have no pain, I would not exchange this life for earth life even it were in my power. Poor spirits without number are waiting anxiously to com- municate with their friends when an opportunity is offered." The young Brownes had the enormous ad- vantage of the education they had received from their father, so that they instantly understood and appreci- ated the new conditions. On October 8th we had a séance with Mrs. Hunter, a pleasant middle-aged woman, with a soft South of England accent. Like so many of our mediums she had little sign of education in her talk. It does not matter in spiritual things, though it is a stumbling block to some inquirers. After all, how much education had the apostles? I have no doubt they were very vulgar provincial people from the average Roman point of view. But they shook the world none the less. Most of our educated people have got their heads so crammed with things that don't matter that they have no room [117] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST for the things that do matter. There was no particular success at our sitting, but I have heard that the medium is capable of better things. On October 13th I had my first experience of a small town, for I went to Geelong and lectured there. It was an attentive and cultured audience, but the hall was small and the receipts could hardly have covered the expenses. However, it is the press report and the local discussion which really matter. I had little time to inspect Geelong, which is a prosperous port with 35,000 inhabitants. What interested me more was the huge plain of lava which stretches around it and connects it with Melbourne. This plain is a good hundred miles across, and as it is of great depth one can only imagine that there must be monstrous cavities inside the earth to correspond with the huge amount extruded. Here and there one sees stunted green cones which are the remains of the volcanoes which spewed up all this stuff. The lava has disintegrated on the surface to the extent of making good arable soil, but the harder bits remain unbroken, so that the surface is covered with rocks, which are used to build up walls for the fields after the Irish fashion. Every here and there a peak of granite has remained as an island amid the lava, to show what was there before the great out- flow. Eruptions appear to be caused by water pouring in through some crack and reaching the heated inside of the earth where the water is turned to steam, ex- pands, and so gains the force to spread destruction. If this process went on it is clear that the whole sea might continue to pour down the crack until the heat had been all absorbed by the water. I have wondered whether [118] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST the lava may not be a clever healing process of nature, by which this soft plastic material is sent oozing out in every direction with the idea that it may find the crack and then set hard and stop it up. Wild specula- tion no doubt, but the guess must always precede the proof. The Australians are really a very good-natured people. It runs through the whole race, high and low. A very exalted person, the Minister of War, shares our flat in the hotel, his bedroom being imbedded among our rooms. This is General Sir Granville Ryrie, a famous hero of Palestine, covered with wounds and medals—a man, too, of great dignity of bearing. As I was dressing one morning I heard some rather monotonous whistling and, forgetting the very exist- ence of the General, and taking it for granted that it was my eldest boy Denis, I put my head out and said, "Look here, old chap, consider other people's nerves and give up that rotten habit of whistling before break- fast.” Imagine my feelings when the deep voice of the General answered, “All right, Sir Arthur, I will !” We laughed together over the incident afterwards, and I told him that he had furnished me with one more example of Australian good humour for my notes. On October 13th I was at the prosperous 50,000 population town of Bendigo, which everyone, except the people on the spot, believes to have been named after the famous boxer. This must surely be a world record, for so far as my memory serves, neither a Grecian Olympic athletic, nor a Roman Gladiator, nor a Byzantine Charioteer, has ever had a city for a monu- ment. Borrow, who looked upon a good honest pugilist [119] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST as the pick of humanity, must have rejoiced in it. Is not valour the basis of all character, and where shall we find greater valour than theirs ? Alas, that most of them began and ended there! It is when the sage and the saint build on the basis of the fighter that you have the highest to which humanity can attain. I had a full hall at Bendigo, and it was packed, I am told, by real old-time miners, for, of course, Bendigo is still the centre of the gold mining industry. Mr. Smythe told me that it was quite a sight to see those rows of deeply-lined, bearded faces listening so intently to what I said of that destiny which is theirs as well as mine. I never had a better audience, and it was their sympathy. which helped me through, for I was very weary that night. But however weary you may be, when you climb upon the platform to talk about this subject, you may be certain that you will be less weary when you come off. That is my settled conviction after a hundred trials. On the morning after my lecture I found myself half a mile nearer to dear Old England, for I descended the Unity mine, and they say that the workings extend to that depth. Perhaps I was not at the lowest level, but certainly it was a long journey in the cage, and reminded me of my friend Bang's description of the New York elevator, when he said that the distance to his suburban yilla and his town flat was the same, but the one was horizontal and the other perpendicular. It was a weird experience that peep into the pro- found depths of the great gold mine. Time was when the quartz veins were on the surface for the poor adven- turer to handle. Now they have been followed under- [120] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ground, and only great companies and costly machinery can win it. Always it is the same white quartz vein with the little yellow specks and threads running through it. We were rattled down in pitch darkness until we came to a stop at the end of a long passage dimly lit by an occasional guttering candle. Carrying our own candles, and clad in miner's costume we crept along with bent heads until we came suddenly out into a huge circular hall which might have sprung from Doré's imagination. The place was draped with heavy black shadows, but every here and there was a dim light. Each light showed where a man was squatting toad- like, a heap of broken débris in front of him, turning it over, and throwing aside the pieces with clear traces of gold. These were kept for special treatment, while the rest of the quartz was passed in ordinary course through the mill. These scattered heaps repre- sented the broken stuff after a charge of dynamite had been exploded in the quartz vein. It was strange indeed to see these squatting figures deep in the bowels of the earth, their candles shining upon their earnest faces and piercing eyes, and to reflect that they were striving that the great exchanges of London and New York might be able to balance with bullion their output of paper. This dim troglodyte industry was in truth the centre and mainspring of all industries, without which trade would stop. Many of the men were from Corn- wall, the troll among the nations, where the tools of the miner are still, as for two thousand years, the natural heritage of the man. Dr. Stillwell, the geolo- gist of the company, and I had a long discussion as to where the gold came from, but the only possible [121] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST conclusion was that nobody knew. We know now that the old alchemists were perfectly right and that one metal may change into another. Is it possible that under some conditions a mineral may change into a metal? Why should quartz always be the matrix? Some Geological Darwin will come along some day and we shall get a great awakening, for at present we are only disguising our own ignorance in this depart- ment of knowledge. I had always understood that quartz was one of the old igneous primeval rocks, and yet here I saw it in thin bands, sandwiched in between clays and slates and other water-borne deposits. The books and the strata don't agree. These smaller towns, like the Metropolis itself, are convulsed with the great controversy between Prohibi- tion and Continuance, no reasonable compromise be- tween the two being suggested. Every wall displays posters, on one side those very prosperous-looking children who demand that some restraint be placed upon their daddy, and on the other hair-raising state- ments as to the financial results of restricting the publicans. To the great disgust of every decent man they have run the Prince into it, and some remark of his after his return to England has been used by the liquor party. It is dangerous for royalty to be jocose in these days, but this was a particularly cruel example of the exploitation of a harmless little joke. If others felt as I did I expect it cost the liquor interest many a vote. We had another séance, this time with Mrs. Knight MacLellan, after my return from Bendigo. She is a lady who has grown grey in the service of the cult, [122] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST and who made a name in London when she was still a child by her mediumistic powers. We had nothing of an evidential character that evening save that one lady who had recently lost her son had his description and an apposite message given. It was the first of sev- eral tests which we were able to give this lady, and before we left Melbourne she assured us that she was a changed woman and her sorrow for ever gone. On October 18th began a very delightful experience, for my wife and I, leaving our party safe in Mel- bourne, travelled up country to be the guests of the Hon. Agar Wynne and his charming wife at their station of Nerrim-Nerrim in Western Victoria. It is about 140 miles from Melbourne, and as the trains are very slow, the journey was not a pleasant one. But that was soon compensated for in the warmth of the welcome which awaited us. Mr. Agar Wynne was Postmaster-General of the Federal Government, and author of several improvements, one of which, the power of sending long letter-telegrams at low rates during certain hours was a triumph of common sense. For a shilling one could send quite a long communica- tion to the other end of the Continent, but it must go through at the time when the telegraph clerk had nothing else to do. It was interesting to us to find ourselves upon an old-established station, typical of the real life of Aus- tralia, for cities are much the same the world over. Nerrim had been a sheep station for eighty years, but the comfortable verandaed bungalow house, with every convenience within it, was comparatively modern.' What charmed us most, apart from the kindness of our [123] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST hosts, was a huge marsh or lagoon which extended for many miles immediately behind the house, and which was a bird sanctuary, so that it was crowded with ibises, wild black swans, geese, ducks, herons and all sorts of fowl. We crept out of our bedroom in the dead of the night and stood under the cloud-swept moon listening to the chorus of screams, hoots, croaks and whistles coming out of the vast expanse of reeds. It would make a most wonderful hunting ground for a naturalist who was content to observe and not to slay. The great morass of Nerrim will ever stand out in our memories. Next day we were driven round the borders of this wonderful marsh, Mr. Wynne, after the Australian fashion, taking no note of roads, and going right across country with alarming results to anyone not used to it. Finally, the swaying and rolling became so terrific that he was himself thrown off the box seat and fell down between the buggy and the front wheel, narrowly escap- ing a very serious accident. He was able to show us the nests and eggs which filled the reed-beds, and even offered to drive us out into the morass to inspect them, a proposal which was rejected by the unanimous vote of a full buggy. I never knew an answer more decid- edly in the negative. As we drove home we passed a great gum tree, and half-way up the trunk was a deep incision where the bark had been stripped in an oval shape some four foot by two. It was where some savage in days of old had cut his shield. Such a mark outside a modern house with every amenity of cultured life is an object lesson of how two systems have over- lapped, and how short a time it is since this great [124] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST continent was washed by a receding wave, ere the great Anglo-Saxon tide came creeping forward. Apart from the constant charm of the wild life of the marsh there did not seem to be much for the naturalist around Nerrim. Opossums bounded upon the roof at night and snakes were not uncommon. A dangerous tiger-snake was killed on the day of our arrival. I was amazed also at the size of the Australian eels. A returned soldier had taken up fishing as a trade, renting a water for a certain time and putting the contents, so far as he could realise them, upon the market. It struck me that after this wily digger had passed that way there would not be much for the sportsman who followed him. But the eels were enor- mous. He took a dozen at a time from his cunning eel- pots, and not one under six pounds. I should have said that they were certainly congers had I seen them in England. I wonder whether all this part of the country has not been swept by a tidal wave at some not very remote period. It is a low coastline with this great lava plain as a hinterland, and I can see nothing to prevent a big wave even now from sweeping the civilisation of Vic- toria off the planet, should there be any really great disturbance under the Pacific. At any rate, it is my impression that it has actually occurred once already, for I cannot otherwise understand the existence of great shallow lakes of salt water in these inland parts. Are they not the pools left behind by that terrible tide ? There are great banks of sand, toc, here and there on the top of the lava which I can in no way account for unless they were swept here in some tremendous world- [125] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST shaking catastrophe which took the beach from St. Kilda and threw it up at Nerrim. God save Australia from such a night as that must have been if my reading of the signs be correct. One of the sights of Nerrim is the shearing of the sheep by electric machinery. These sheep are merinos, which have been bred as wool producers to such an extent that they can hardly see, and the wool grows thick right down to their hoofs. The large stately creature is a poor little shadow when his wonderful fleece has been taken from him. The electric clips with which the operation is performed, are, I am told, the invention of a brother of Garnet Wolseley, who worked away at the idea, earning the name of being a half-crazy crank, until at last the invention material- ised and did away with the whole slow and clumsy process of the hand-shearer. It is not, however, a pleasant process to watch even for a man, far less a sensitive woman, for the poor creatures get cut about a good deal in the process. The shearer seizes a sheep, fixes him head up between his knees, and then plunges the swiftly-moving clippers into the thick wool which covers the stomach. With wonderful speed he runs it along and the creature is turned out of its covering, and left as bare as a turkey in a poulterer's window, but, alas, its white and tender skin is too often gashed and ripped with vivid lines of crimson by the haste and clumsiness of the shearer. It was worse, they say, in the days of the hand-shearer. I am bound to say, however, that the creature makes no fuss about it, remains perfectly still, and does not appear to suffer any pain. Nature is often kinder than we know, even [126] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST to her most humble children, and some soothing and healing process seems to be at work. The shearers appear to be a rough set of men, and spend their whole time moving in gangs from station to station, beginning up in the far north and winding up on the plains of South Australia. They are com- plete masters of the situation, having a powerful union at their back. They not only demand and receive some two pounds a day in wages, but they work or not by vote, the majority being able to grant a complete holi- day. It is impossible to clip a wet sheep, so that after rain there is an interval of forced idleness, which may be prolonged by the vote of the men. They work very rapidly, however, when they are actually at it, and the man who tallies most fleeces, called "the ringer,” receives a substantial bonus. When the great shed is in full activity it is a splendid sight with the row of stooping figures, each embracing his sheep, the buzz of the shears, the rush of the messengers who carry the clip to the table, the swift movements of the sorters who separate the perfect from the imperfect wool, and the levering and straining of the packers who compress it all into square bundles as hard as iron with 240 pounds in each. With fine wool at the present price of ninety-six pence a pound it is clear that each of these cubes stands for nearly a hundred pounds. They are rich men these sheep owners—and I am speaking here of my general inquiry and not at all of Nerrim. On a rough average, with many local excep- tions, one may say that an estate bears one sheep to an acre, and that the sheep will show a clear profit of one pound in the year. Thus, after the first initial [127] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST expense is passed, and when the flock has reached its full, one may easily make an assessment of the owner's income. Estates of 10,000 acres are common, and they run up to 50,000 and 60,000 acres. They can be run so cheaply that the greater part of income is clear profit, for when the land is barb-wired into great en- closures no shepherds are needed, and only a boundary rider or two to see that all is in order. These, with a few hands at lambing time, and two or three odd-job men at the central station, make up the whole staff. It is certainly the short cut to a fortune if one can only get the plant running. Can a man with a moderate capital get a share of these good things ? Certainly he can if he have grit and a reasonable share of that luck which must always be a factor in Nature's processes. Droughts, floods, cyclones, etc., are like the zero at Monte Carlo, which always may turn up to defeat the struggling gamester. I followed several cases where small men had managed to make good. It is reckoned that the man who gets a holding of from 300 to 500 acres is able on an average in three years to pay off all his initial expenses and to have laid the foundations of a career which may lead to fortune. One case was a London baker who knew nothing of the work. He had 300 acres and had laid it out in wheat, cows, sheep and mixed farming. He worked from morning to night, his wife was up at four, and his child of ten was picking up stones behind the furrow. But he was already making his £500 a year. The personal equation was everything. One demobi- lised soldier was doing well. Another had come to smash. Very often a deal is made between the small [128] A TYPICAL AUSTRALIAN BACK-COUNTRY SCENE. By H. J. Jolinstone, a great painter who died unknown. (Painting in Adelaide National Gallery.) TH forme man a third, suits bough Lond only F1713************ can rea ----.. i THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST man and the large holder, by which the latter lets the former a corner of his estate, taking a share, say one- third, of his profits as rent. That is a plan which suits everyone, and the landlord can gradually be bought out by the "cockatoo farmer," as he is styled. There is a great wool-clip this year, and prices in London are at record figures, so that Australia, which only retains 17 per cent. of her own wool, should have a very large sum to her credit. But she needs it. When one considers that the debt of this small community is heavier now than that of Great Britain before the war, one wonders how she can ever win through. But how can anyone win through? I don't think we have fairly realised the financial problem yet, and I believe that within a very few years there will be an International Council which will be compelled to adopt some such scheme as the one put forward by my friend, Mr. Stil- well, under the name of “The Great Plan.” This excellent idea was that every nation should reduce its warlike expenditure to an absolute minimum, that the difference between this minimum and the 1914 pre- war standard should be paid every year to a central fund, and that international bonds be now drawn upon the security of that fund, anticipating not its present amount but what it will represent in fifty years' time. It is, in fact, making the future help the present, exactly as an estate which has some sudden great call upon it might reasonably anticipate or mortgage its own devel- opment. I believe that the salvation of the world may depend upon some such plan, and that the Council of the League of Nations is the agency by which it could be made operative. [129] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Australia has had two plants which have been a perfect curse to her as covering the land and offering every impediment to agriculture. They are the Spinni- fex in the West and the Mallee scrub in the East. The latter was considered a hopeless proposition, and the only good which could be extracted from it was that the root made an ideal fire, smouldering long and re- taining heat. Suddenly, however, a genius named Lascelles discovered that this hopeless Mallee land was simply unrivalled for wheat, and his schemes have now brought seven million acres under the plough. This could hardly have been done if another genius, un- named, had not invented a peculiar and ingenious plough, the “stump-jump plough,” which can get round obstacles without breaking itself. It is not generally known that Australia really heads the world for the ingenuity and efficiency of her agricultural machinery. There is an inventor and manufacturer, MacKay, of Sunshine, who represents the last word in automatic reapers, etc. He exports them, a shipload at a time, to the United States, which, if one considers the tariff which they have to surmount, is proof in itself of the supremacy of the article. With this wealth of machin- ery the real power of Australia in the world is greater than her population would indicate, for a five-million nation, which, by artificial aid, does the work normally done by ten million people, becomes a ten-million nation so far as economic and financial strength is concerned. On the other hand, Australia has her hindrances as well as her helps. Certainly the rabbits have done her no good, though the evil is for the moment under con- trol. An efficient rabbiter gets a pound a day, and [130] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST he is a wise insurance upon any estate, for the creatures, if they get the upper-hand, can do thousands of pounds' worth of damage. This damage takes two shapes. First, they eat off all the grass and leave nothing at all for the sheep. Secondly, they burrow under walls, etc., and leave the whole place an untidy ruin. Little did the man who introduced the creature into Australia dream how the imprecations of a continent would descend upon him. Alas! that we could not linger at Nerrim; but duty was calling at Melbourne. Besides, the days of the Melbourne Cup were at hand, and not only was Mr. Wynne a great pillar of the turf, but Mr. Osborne, owner of one of the most likely horses in the race, was one of the house-party. To Melbourne therefore we went. We shall always, however, be able in our dreams to revisit that broad verandah, the low hospitable façade, the lovely lawn with its profusion of scented shrubs, the grove of towering gum trees, where the opossums lurked, and above all the great marsh where with dark clouds drifting across the moon we had stolen out at night to hear the crying of innumerable birds. That to us will always be the real Australia. [131] CHAPTER VI The Melbourne Cup.-Psychic healing.-M. J. Bloomfield.- My own experience.—Direct healing.-Chaos and Ritual. -Government House Ball.- The Rescue Circle again.- Sitting with Mrs. Harris.-A good test case. Australian botany.-The land of myrtles.-English cricket team.- Great final meeting in Melbourne. It was the week of weeks in Melbourne when we returned from Nerrim, and everything connected with my mission was out of the question. When the whole world is living vividly here and now there is no room for the hereafter. Personally, I fear I was out of sympathy with it all, though we went to the Derby, where the whole male and a good part of the female population of Melbourne seemed to be assembled, rein- forced by contingents from every State in the Federa- tion. A fine handsome body of people they are when you see them en masse, strong, solid and capable, if perhaps a little lacking in those finer and more spiritual graces which come with a more matured society. The great supply of animal food must have its effect upon the mind as well as the body of a nation. Lord Forster appeared at the races, and probably, as an all round sportsman, took a genuine interest, but the fate of the Governor who did not take an interest would be a rather weary one like that kind-hearted Roman Em- peror, Claudius, if I remember right, who had to attend the gladiatorial shows, but did his business there [132] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST near the liver which he felt intuitively should not be there. His companion rallied him on his sudden grav- ity, and still more upon the cause of it, when it was explained. Bloomfield was so certain, however, that the vision was for a purpose, that he accosted the couple, and learned that the woman was actually about to be operated on for cancer. He reassured them, say- ing that the object seemed clearly defined and not to have widespread roots as a cancer might have. He was asked to be present at the operation, pointed out the exact place where he had seen the growth, and saw it extracted. It was, as he had said, innocuous. With this example in one's mind the words of Hippocrates begin to assume a very definite meaning. I believe that the surgeon was so struck by the incident that he was most anxious that Bloomfield should aid him perma- nently in his diagnoses. I will now give my own experience with Mr. Bloom- field. Denis had been suffering from certain pains, so I took him round as a test case. Bloomfield, without asking the boy any questions, gazed at him for a couple of minutes. He then said that the pains were in the stomach and head, pointing out the exact places. The cause, he said, was some slight stricture in the intestine and he proceeded to tell me several facts of Denis's early history which were quite correct, and entirely beyond his normal knowledge. I have never in all my experience of medicine known so accurate a diagnosis. Another lady, whom I knew, consulted him for what she called a "medical reading.” Without examining her in any way he said: "What a peculiar throat you [134] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST assistant and successor. It is a very interesting and convincing narrative. We were invited to another spiritual meeting at the Auditorium. Individuality runs riot sometimes in our movement. On this occasion a concert had been mixed up with a religious service and the effect was not good, though the musical part of the proceedings disclosed one young violinist, Master Hames, who should, I think, make a name in the world. I have always been against ritual, and yet now that I see the effect of being without it I begin to understand that some form of it, however elastic, is necessary. The clair- voyance was good, if genuine, but it offends me to see it turned off and on like a turn at a music hall. It is either nonsense or the holy of holies and mystery of mysteries. Perhaps it was just this conflict between the priest with his ritual and the medium without any, which split the early Christian Church, and ended in the complete victory of the ritual, which meant the ex- tinction not only of the medium but of the living, visible, spiritual forces which he represented. Flowers, music, incense, architecture, all tried to fill the gap, but the soul of the thing had gone out of it. It must, I suppose, have been about the end of the third century that the process was completed, and the living thing had set into a petrifaction. That would be the time no doubt when, as already mentioned, special correctors were appointed to make the gospel texts square with the elaborate machinery of the Church. Only now does the central fire begin to glow once more through the ashes which have been heaped above it. We attended the great annual ball at the Govern- [136] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ment House, where the Governor-General and his wife were supported by the Governors of the various States, the vice-regal party performing their own stately quadrille with a dense hedge of spectators around them. There were few chaperons, and nearly everyone ended by dancing, so that it was a cheerful and festive scene. My friend Major Wood had played with the Governor- General in the same Hampshire eleven, and it was singular to think that after many years they should meet again like this. Social gaieties are somewhat out of key with my present train of thought, and I was more in my element next evening at a meeting of the Rescue Circle under Mr. Tozer. Mr. Love was the medium and it was cer- tainly a very remarkable and consistent performance. Even those who might imagine that the different char- acters depicted were in fact various strands of Mr. Love's subconscious self, each dramatising its own peculiarities, must admit that it was a very absorbing exhibition. The circle sits round with prayer and hymns while Mr. Love falls into a trance state. He is then controlled by the Chinaman Quong, who is a person of such standing and wisdom in the other world, that other lower spirits have to obey him. The light is dim, but even so the characteristics of this Chinaman get across very clearly, the rolling head, the sidelong, humorous glance, the sly smile, the hands crossed and buried in what should be the voluminous folds of a mandarin's gown. He greets the company in some- what laboured English and says he has many who would be the better for our ministrations. "Send them along, please !” says Mr. Tozer. The medium suddenly [137] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST sits straight and his whole face changes into an austere harshness. “What is this ribald nonsense ?” he cries. “Who are you, friend?" says Tozer. “My name is Mathew Barret. I testified in my life to the Lamb and to Him crucified.” I ask again: "What is this ribald nonsense?” “It is not nonsense, friend. We are here to help you and to teach you that you are held down and punished for your narrow ideas, and that you cannot progress until they are more charitable.” "What I preached in life I still believe.” “Tell us, friend, did you find it on the other side as you had preached?” “What do you mean?" "Well, did youi, for example, see Christ?” There was an embarrassed silence. “No, I did not." "Have you seen the devil ?” “No, I have not.” “Then, bethink you, friend, that there may be truth in what we teach.” “It is against all that I have preached.” A moment later the China- man was back with his rolling head and his wise smile. “He good man—stupid man. He learn in time. Plenty time before him.” We had a wonderful succession of "revenants.” One was a very dignified Anglican, who always referred to the Control as “this yellow person.” Another was an Australian soldier. “I never thought I'd take my or- ders from a 'Chink,'” said he, “but he says 'hist!' and by gum you've got to 'hist and no bloomin' error.” Yet another said he had gone down in the Monmouth. “Can you tell me anything of the action?" I asked. "We never had a chance. It was just hell.” There was a world of feeling in his voice. He was greatly amused at their "sky-pilot,” as he called the chaplain, and at his confusion when he found the other world [138] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST quite different to what he had depicted. A terrifying Ghurkha came along, who still thought he was in action and charged about the circle, upsetting the me- dium's chair, and only yielding to a mixture of force and persuasion. There were many others, most of whom returned thanks for the benefit derived from previous meetings. “You've helped us quite a lot,” they said. Between each the old Chinese sage made com- ments upon the various cases, a kindly, wise old soul, with just a touch of mischievous humour running through him. We had an exhibition of the useless apostolic gift of tongues during the evening, for two of the ladies present broke out into what I was in- formed was the Maori language, keeping up a long and loud conversation. I was not able to check it, but it was certainly a coherent language of some sort. In all this there was nothing which one could take hold of and quote as absolutely and finally evidential, and yet the total effect was most convincing. I have been in touch with some Rescue Circles, however, where the identity of the "patients," as we may call them, was absolutely traced. As I am on the subject of psychic experiences I may as well carry on, so that the reader who is out of sympathy may make a single skip of the lot. Mrs. Susanna Harris, the American voice-medium, who is well known in London, had arrived here shortly after ourselves, and gave us a sitting. Mrs. Harris's powers have been much discussed, for while on the one hand she passed a most difficult test in London, where, with her mouth full of coloured water, she produced the same voice effects as on other occasions, she had no [139] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST success in Norway when she was examined by their Psychic Research Committee; but I know how often these intellectuals ruin their own effects by their mental attitude, which acts like those anti-ferments which pre- vent a chemical effervescence. We must always get back to the principle, however, that one positive result is more important than a hundred negative ones just as one successful demonstration in chemistry makes up for any number of failures. We cannot command spirit action, and we can only commiserate with, not blame, the medium who does not receive it when it is most desired. Personally I have sat four times with Mrs. Harris and I have not the faintest doubt that on each of these occasions I got true psychic results, though I cannot answer for what happens in Norway or elsewhere. Shortly after her arrival in Melbourne she gave us a séance in our private room at the hotel, no one being present save at my invitation. There were about twelve guests, some of whom had no psychic experience, and I do not think there was one of them who did not depart convinced that they had been in touch with pre- ternatural forces. There were two controls, Harmony, with a high girlish treble voice, and a male control with a strong decisive bass. I sat next to Mrs. Harris, holding her hand in mine, and I can swear to it that again and again she spoke to me while the other voices were conversing with the audience. Harmony is a charming little creature, witty, friendly and innocent. I am quite ready to consider the opinion expressed by the Theosophists that such controls as Harmony with Mrs. Harris, Bella with Mrs. Brittain, Feda with Mrs. [140] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Leonard, and others are in reality nature-spirits who have never lived in the flesh but take an intelligent interest in our affairs and are anxious to help us. The male control, however, who always broke in with some final clinching remark in a deep voice, seemed alto- gether human. Whilst these two controls formed, and were the chorus of the play, the real drama rested with the spirit voices, the same here as I have heard them under Mrs. Wriedt, Mrs. Johnson or Mr. Powell in England, intense, low, vibrating with emotion and with anxiety to get through. Nearly everyone in the circle had com- munications which satisfied them. One lady who had mourned her husband very deeply had the inexpressible satisfaction of hearing his voice thanking her for put- ting flowers before his photograph, a fact which no one else could know. A voice claiming to be “Moore- Usborne Moore," came in front of me. I said, “Well, Admiral, we never met but we corresponded in life.” He said, “Yes, and we disagreed," which was true. Then there came a voice which claimed to be Mr. J. Morse, the eminent pioneer of Spiritualism. I said, "Mr. Morse, if that is you, you can tell me where we met last.” He answered, “Was it not in 'Lighť office in London?” I said, “No, surely it was when you took the chair for me at that great meeting at Shef- field." He answered, “Well, we lose some of our memory in passing." As a matter of fact he was per- fectly right, for after the sitting both my wife and I remembered that I had exchanged a word or two with him as I was coming out of Light office at least a year after the Sheffield meeting. This was a good [141] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST test as telepathy was excluded. General Sir Alfred Turner also came and said that he remembered our con- versations on earth. When I asked him whether he had found the conditions beyond the grave as happy as he expected he answered, "infinitely more so." Alto- gether I should think that not less than twenty spirits manifested during this remarkable séance. The result may have been the better because Mrs. Harris had been laid up in bed for a week beforehand, and so we had her full force. I fancy that like most mediums, she habitually overworks her wonderful powers. Such séances have been going on now for seventy years, with innumerable witnesses of credit who will testify, as I have done here, that all fraud or mistake was out of the question. And still the men of no experience shake their heads. I wonder how long they will succeed in standing between the world and the consolation which God has sent us. There is one thing very clear about mediumship and that is that it bears no relation to physical form. Mrs. Harris is a very large lady, tall and Junoesque, a figure which would catch the eye in any assembly. She has, I believe, a dash of the mystic Red Indian blood in her, which may be connected with her powers. Bailey, on the other hand, is a little, ginger-coloured man, while Campbell of Sydney, who is said to have apport powers which equal Bailey, is a stout man, rather like the late Corney Grain. Every shape and every quality of vessel may hold the psychic essence. I spend such spare time as I have in the Melbourne Botanical Gardens, which is, I think, absolutely the most beautiful place that I have ever seen. I do not [142] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST know what genius laid them out, but the effect is a succession of the most lovely vistas, where flowers, shrubs, large trees and stretches of water, are combined in an extraordinary harmony. Green swards slope down to many tinted groves, and they in turn droop over still ponds mottled with lovely water plants. It is an instructive as well as a beautiful place, for every tree has its visiting card attached and one soon comes to know them. Australia is preeminently the Land of the Myrtles, for a large proportion of its vegetation comes under this one order, which includes the gum trees, of which there are 170 varieties. They all shed their bark instead of their leaves, and have a generally untidy, not to say indecent appearance, as they stand with their covering in tatters and their white under- bark shining through the rents. There is not the same variety of species in Australia as in England, and it greatly helps a superficial botanist like myself, for when you have learned the ti-tree, the wild fig tree and the gum trees, you will be on terms with nature wherever you go. New Zealand, however, offers quite a fresh lot of problems. The Melbourne Cricket Club has made me an hon- orary member, so Denis and I went down there, where we met the giant bowler, Hugh Trumble, who left so redoubtable a name in England. As the Chela may look at the Yogi so did Denis, with adoring eyes, gaze upon Trumble, which so touched his kind heart that he produced a cricket ball, used in some famous match, which he gave to the boy—a treasure which will be reverently brought back to England. I fancy Denis [143] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST slept with it that night, as he certainly did in his pads and gloves the first time that he owned them. We saw the English team play Victoria, and it was pleasant to see the well-known faces once more. The luck was all one way, for Armstrong was on the sick list, and Armstrong is the mainstay of Victorian cricket. Rain came at a critical moment also, and gave Woolley and Rhodes a wicket which was impossible for a batsman. However, it was all good practice for the more exacting games of the future. It should be a fine eleven which contains a genius like Hobbs, backed by such men as the bustling bulldog, Hendren, a great out-field as well as a grand bat, or the wily, dangerous Hearne, or Douglas, cricketer, boxer, above all warrior, a worthy leader of Englishmen. Hearne I remember as little more than a boy, when he promised to carry on the glories of that remarkable family, of which George and Alec were my own playmates. He has ended by proving himself the greatest of them all. My long interval of enforced rest came at last to an end, when the race fever had spent itself, and I was able to have my last great meeting at the Town Hall. It really was a great meeting, as the photograph of it will show. I spoke for over two hours, ending up by showing a selection of the photographs. I dealt faith- fully with the treatment given to me by the Argus. I take the extract from the published account. “On this, the last time in my life that I shall address a Melbourne audience, I wish to thank the people for the courtesy with which we have been received. It would, however, be hypocritical upon my part if I were to thank the Press. A week before I entered Melbourne [144] AT MELBOURNE TOWN HALL, NOVEMBER 12th, 1920. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST the Argus declared that I was an emissary of the devil (laughter). I care nothing for that. I am out for a fight and can take any knocks that come. But the Argus refused to publish a word I said. I came 12,000 miles to give you a message of hope and comfort, and I appeal to you to say whether three or four gentlemen sitting in a board-room have a right to say to the people of Melbourne, 'You shall not listen to that man nor read one word of what he has to say.' (Cries of 'Shame!) You, I am sure, resent being spoon-fed in such a manner." The audience showed in the most hearty fashion that they did resent it, and they cheered loudly when I pointed out that my remarks did not arise, as anyone could see by looking round, from any feeling on my part that my mission had failed to gain popular support. It was a great evening, and I have never addressed a more sympathetic audience. The difficulty always is for my wife and myself to escape from our kind well-wishers, and it is touching and heartening to hear the sincere "God bless you!" which they shower upon us as we pass. This then was the climax of our mission in Mel- bourne. It was marred by the long but unavoidable delay in the middle, but it began well and ended splen- didly. On November 13th we left the beautiful town behind us, and embarked upon what we felt would be a much more adventurous period at Sydney, for all we had heard showed that both our friends and our ene- mies were more active in the great seaport of New South Wales. [145] CHAPTER VII Great reception at Sydney.-Importance of Sydney.- Journalistic luncheon.—A psychic epidemic.-Gregory. -Barracking.–Town Hall reception.-Regulation of Spiritualism.-An ether apport.-Surfing at Manly:- A challenge.--Bigoted opponents.-A disgruntled pho- tographer.-Outing in the Harbour.—Dr. Mildred Creed.—Leon Gellert.-Norman Lindsay.-Bishop Lead- beater.-Our relations with Theosophy.-Incongruities of H. P. B.–Of D. D. Home. We had a wonderful reception at Sydney. I have a great shrinking from such deputations as they catch you at the moment when you are exhausted and un- kempt after a long journey, and when you need all your energies to collect your baggage and belongings so as to make your way to your hotel. But on this occasion it was so hearty, and the crowd of faces beamed such good wishes upon us that it was quite a pick-me-up to all of us. “God bless you!" and "Thank God you have come !" reached us from all sides. My wife, covered with flowers, was hustled off in one direc- tion, while I was borne away in another, and each of the children was the centre of a separate group. Major Wood had gone off to see to the luggage, and Jakeman was herself embedded somewhere in the crowd, co at last I had to shout, “Where's that little girl? Where's that little boy ?" until we reassembled and were able, laden with bouquets, to reach our carriage. The eve- ning paper spread itself over the scene. [146] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST een danced the party wid Sir Conan "When Sir Conan Doyle, his wife and their three children arrived from Melbourne by the express this morning, an assembly of Spiritualists accorded them a splendid greeting. Men swung their hats high and cheered, women danced in their excitement, and many of their number rushed the party with rare bouquets. The excitement was at its highest, and Sir Conan being literally carried along the platform by the pressing crowds, when a digger arrived on the outskirts. “Who's that?' he asked of nobody in particular. Almost im- mediately an urchin replied, 'The bloke that wrote "Sherlock Holmes." ' When asked if the latter gentle- man was really and irretrievably dead the author of his being remarked, 'Well, you can say that a coroner has never sat upon him.'” It was a grand start, and we felt at once in a larger and more vigorous world, where, if we had fiercer foes, we at least had warm and well-organised friends. Better friends than those of Melbourne do not exist, but there was a method and cohesion about Sydney which impressed us from the first day to the last. There seemed, also, to be fewer of those schisms which are the bane of our movement. If Wells's dictum that organisation is death has truth in it, then we are very much alive. We had rooms in Petty's Hotel, which is an old- world hostel with a very quiet, soothing atmosphere. There I was at once engaged with the usual succession of journalists with a long list of questions which ranged from the destiny of the human soul to the chances of the test match. What with the constant visitors, the unpacking of our trunks, and the settling [147] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST down of the children, we were a very weary band before evening. I had no idea that Sydney was so great a place. The population is now very nearly a million, which represents more than one-sixth of the whole vast Continent. It seems a weak point of the Australian system that 41 per cent of the whole population dwell in the six capital cities. The vital statistics of Sydney are extraordinarily good, for the death rate is now only twelve per thousand per annum. Our standard in such matters is continually rising, for I can remem- ber the days when twenty per thousand was reckoned to be a very good result. In every civic amenity Sydney stands very high. Her Botanical Gardens are not so supremely good as those of Melbourne, but her Zoo is among the very best in the world. The animals seem to be confined by trenches rather than by bars, so that they have the appearance of being at large. It was only after Jakeman had done a level hundred with a child under each arm that she realised that a bear, which she saw approaching, was not really in a state of freedom. As to the natural situation of Sydney, especially its harbour, it is so world-renowned that it is hardly necessary to allude to it. I can well imagine that a Sydney man would grow homesick elsewhere, for he could never find the same surroundings. The splendid landlocked bay with its numerous side estuaries and its narrow entrance is a grand playground for a sea- loving race. On a Saturday it is covered with every kind of craft, from canoe to hundred-tonner. The fact that the water swarms with sharks seems to present no [148] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST evidently a few people who had come with intent to make a scene, but I had my audience so entirely with me, that it was impossible to cause real trouble. One fanatic near the door cried out, “Anti-Christ!" several times, and was then bundled out. Another, when I described how my son had come back to me, cried out that it was the devil, but on my saying with a laugh that such a remark showed the queer workings of some people's minds, the people cheered loudly in assent. Altogether it was a great success, which was repeated in the second, and culminated in the third, when, with a hot summer day, and the English crick- eters making their début, I still broke the record for a Town Hall matinée. The rush was more than the officials could cope with, and I had to stand for ten long minutes looking at the audience before it was settled enough for me to begin. Some Spiritualists in the audience struck up “Lead, Kindly Light !" which gave the right note to the assemblage. Mr. Smythe, with all his experience, was amazed at our results. “This is no longer a mere success," he cried. “It is a triumph. It is an epidemic!” Surely, it will leave some permanent good behind it and turn the public mind from religious shadows to realities. We spent one restful day seeing our cricketers play New South Wales. After a promising start they were beaten owing to a phenomenal first-wicket stand in the second innings by Macartney and Collins, both bats- men topping the hundred. Gregory seemed a danger- ous bowler, making the ball rise shoulder high even on that Bulli wicket, where midstump is as much as an ordinary bowler can attain. He is a tiger of a man, [150] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST putting every ounce of his strength and inch of his great height into every ball, with none of the artistic finesse of a Spofforth, but very effective all the same. We have no one of the same class, and that will win Australia the rubber unless I am—as I hope I am-a false prophet. I was not much impressed either by the manners or by the knowledge of the game shown by the barrackers. Every now and then, out of the mass of people who darken the grass slopes round the ground, you hear a raucous voice giving advice to the captain, or, perhaps, conjuring a fast bowler to bowl at the wicket when the man is keeping a perfect length outside the off stump and trying to serve his three slips. When Mailey went on, because he was slow and seemed easy, they began to jeer, and, yet, you had only to watch the batsman to see that the ball was doing a lot and kept him guessing. One wonders why the neighbors of these bawlers tolerate it. In Eng- land such men would soon be made to feel that they were ill-mannered nuisances. I am bound to testify, however, that they seem quite impartial, and that the English team had no special cause for complaint. I may also add that, apart from this cricketing peculi- arity, which is common to all the States, the Sydney crowd is said to be one of the most good-humoured and orderly in the world. My own observation con- firms this, and I should say that there was a good deal less drunkenness than in Melbourne, but, perhaps the races gave me an exaggerated impression of the latter. On Sunday, 28th, the Spiritualists gave the pilgrims (as they called us) a reception at the Town Hall. There was not a seat vacant, and the sight of these [151] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST 3,500 well-dressed, intelligent people must have taught the press that the movement is not to be despised. There are at least 10,000 professed Spiritualists in Sydney, and even as a political force they demand con- sideration. The seven of us were placed in the front of the platform, and the service was very dignified and impressive. When the great audience sang, “God hold you safely till we meet once more,” it was almost over- powering, for it is a beautiful tune, and was sung with real feeling. In my remarks I covered a good deal of ground, but very particularly I warned them against all worldly use of this great knowledge, whether it be fortune telling, prophecies about races and stocks, or any other prostitution of our subject. I also exhorted them when they found fraud to expose it at once, as their British brethren do, and never to trifle with truth. When I had finished, the whole 3,500 people stood up, and everyone waved a handkerchief, producing a really wonderful scene. We can never forget it. Once more I must take refuge behind the local Observer. “The scene as Sir Arthur rose will be long remembered by those who were privileged to witness it. A sea of waving handkerchiefs confronted the speaker, acclaiming silently and reverently the deep esteem in which he was held by all present. Never has Sir Arthur's earnestness in his mission been more ap- parent than on this occasion as he proceeded with a heart to heart talk with the Spiritualists present, offer- ing friendly criticisms, sound advice, and encourage- ment to the adherents of the great movement. " 'He had got,' he said, 'so much into the habit of lecturing that he was going to lecture the Spiritualists.' [152] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST With a flash of humour Sir Arthur added: 'It does none of us any harm to be lectured occasionally. I am a married man myself' (laughter). 'I would say to the Spiritualists, "For Heaven's sake keep this thing high and unspotted. Don't let it drop into the regions of fortune telling and other things which leave such an ugly impression on the public mind, and which we find it so difficult to justify. Keep it in its most religious and purest aspect." !" At the same time, I expressed my view that there was no reason at all why a medium should not receive moderate payment for work done, since it is impossible, otherwise, that he can live. Every solid Spiritualist would, I am sure, agree with me that our whole subject needs regulating, and is in an unsatisfactory condition. We cannot approve of the sensation mongers who run from medium to me- dium (or possibly pretended medium) with no object but excitement or curiosity. The trouble is that you have to recognise a thing before you can regulate it, and the public has not properly recognised us. Let them frankly do so, and take us into counsel, and then we shall get things on a solid basis. Personally, I would be ready to go so far as to agree that an in- quirer should take out a formal permit to consult a medium, showing that it was done for some definite object, if in return we could get State recognition for those mediums who were recommended as genuine by valid spiritual authorities. My friends will think this a reactionary proposition, but none the less I feel the need of regulation almost as much as I do that of recognition. One event which occurred to me at Sydney I shall [153] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST always regard as an instance of that fostering care of which I have been conscious ever since we set forth upon our journey. I had been overtired, had slept badly and had a large meeting in the evening, so that it was imperative that I should have a nap in the after- noon. My brain was racing, however, and I could get no rest or prospect of any. The second floor window was slightly open behind me, and outside was a broad open space, shimmering in the heat of a summer day. Suddenly, as I lay there, I was aware of a very distinct pungent smell of ether, coming in waves from outside. With each fresh wave I felt my over-excited nerves calming down as the sea does when oil is poured upon it. Within a few minutes I was in a deep sleep, and woke all ready for my evening's work. I looked out of the window and tried to picture where the ether could have come from, then I returned thanks for one more benefit received. I do not suppose that I am alone in such interpositions, but I think that our minds are so centred on this tiny mud patch, that we are deaf and blind to all that impinges on us from beyond. Having finished in Sydney, and my New Zealand date having not yet arrived, we shifted our quarters to Manly, upon the seacoast, about eight miles from the town. Here we all devoted ourselves to surf-bath- ing, spending a good deal of our day in the water, as is the custom of the place. It is a real romp with Nature, for the great Pacific rollers come sweeping in and break over you, rolling you over on the sand if they catch you unawares. It was a golden patch in our restless lives. There were surf boards, and I am told that there were men competent to ride them, but I saw [154] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST no charge was made for admission) was not a success. His constant demand was that I should meet him in debate, which was, of course, out of the question, since no debate is possible between a man who considers a text to be final, and one who cannot take this view. My whole energies, so much needed for my obvious work, would have been frittered away in barren con- troversies had I allowed my hand to be forced. I had learned my lesson, however, at the M'Cabe debate in London, when I saw clearly that nothing could come from such proceedings. On the other hand, I con- ceived the idea of what would be a real test, and I issued it as a challenge in the public press. “It is clear,” I said, “that one single case of spirit return proves our whole contention. Therefore, let the ques- tion be concentrated upon one, or, if necessary, upon three cases. These I would undertake to prove, pro- ducing my witnesses in the usual way. My opponent would act the part of hostile counsel, cross-examining and criticising my facts. The case would be decided by a majority vote of a jury of twelve, chosen from men of standing, who pledged themselves as open- minded on the question. Such a test could obviously only take place in a room of limited dimensions, so that no money would be involved and truth only be at stake. That is all that I seek. If such a test can be arranged I am ready for it, either before I leave, or after I return from New Zealand." This challenge was not taken up by my opponents. Mr. Simpson had a long tirade in the Sydney papers about the evil religious effects of my mission, which caused me to write a reply in which I defined our posi- [156] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST tion in a way which may be instructive to others. I said : "The tenets which we Spiritualists preach and which I uphold upon the platform are that any man who is deriving spirituality from his creed, be that creed what it may, is learning the lesson of life. For this reason we would not attack your creed, however repulsive it might seem to us, so long as you and your colleagues might be getting any benefit from it. We desire to go our own way, saying what we know to be true, and claiming from others the same liberty of conscience and of expression which we freely grant to them. "You, on the other hand, go out of your way to attack us, to call us evil names, and to pretend that those loved ones who return to us are in truth devils, and that our phenomena, though they are obviously of the same sort as those which are associated with early Christianity, are diabolical in their nature. This absurd view is put forward without a shadow of proof, and entirely upon the supposed meaning of certain an- cient texts which refer in reality to a very different matter, but which are strained and twisted to suit your purpose. "It is men like you and your colleagues who, by your parody of Christianity and your constant exhibition of those very qualities which Christ denounced in the Pharisees, have driven many reasonable people away from religion and left the churches half empty. Your predecessors, who took the same narrow view of the literal interpretation of the Bible, were guilty of the murder of many thousands of defenceless old women who were burned in deference to the text, 'Suffer no [157] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST witch to live.' Undeterred by this terrible result of the literal reading, you still advocate it, although you must be well aware that polygamy, slavery and murder can all be justified by such a course. “In conclusion, let me give you the advice to recon- sider your position, to be more charitable to your neighbours, and to devote your redundant energies to combating the utter materialism which is all round you, instead of railing so bitterly at those who are proving immortality and the need for good living in a way which meets their spiritual wants, even though it is foreign to yours.” A photographer, named Mark Blow, also caused me annoyance by announcing that my photographs were fakes, and that he was prepared to give £25 to any charity if he could not reproduce them. I at once offered the same sum if he could do so, and I met him by appointment at the office of the evening paper, the editor being present to see fair play. I placed my money on the table, but Mr. Blow did not cover it. I then produced a packet of plates from my pocket and suggested that we go straight across to Mr. Blow's studio and produce the photographs. He replied by asking me a long string of questions as to the condi- tions under which the Crewe photographs were pro- duced, noting down all my answers. I then renewed my proposition. He answered that it was absurd to expect him to produce a spirit photograph since he did not believe in such foolish things. I answered that I did not ask him to produce a spirit photograph, but to fulfil his promise which was to produce a similar result upon the plate under similar conditions. He - - - —.. - [158] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST held out that they should be his own conditions. I pointed out that any school boy could make a half- exposed impression upon a plate, and that the whole test lay in the conditions. As he refused to submit to test conditions the matter fell through, as all such foolish challenges fall through. It was equally foolish on my part to have taken any notice of it. I had a conversation with Mr. Maskell, the capable Secretary of the Sydney Spiritualists, in which he de- scribed how he came out originally from Leicester to Australia. He had at that time developed some power of clairvoyance, but it was very intermittent. He had hesitated in his mind whether he should emigrate to Australia, and sat one night debating it within himself, while his little son sat at the table cutting patterns out of paper. Maskell said to his spirit guides, mentally, “If it is good that I go abroad give me the vision of a star. If not, let it be a circle.” He waited for half an hour or so, but no vision came, and he was rising in disappointment when the little boy turned round and said, “Daddy, here is a star for you,” handing over one which he had just cut. He has had no reason to regret the subsequent decision. We had a very quiet, comfortable, and healthy ten days at the Pacific Hotel at Manly, which was broken only by an excursion which the Sydney Spiritualists had organised for us in a special steamer, with the in- tention of showing us the glories of the harbour. Our party assembled on Manly Pier, and the steamer was still far away when we saw the Auttering handkerchiefs which announced that they had sighted us. It was a long programme, including a picnic lunch, but it all [159] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST went off with great success and good feeling. It was fairly rough within the harbour, and some of the party were seasick, but the general good spirits rose above such trifles, and we spent the day in goodly fellowship. On Sunday I was asked to speak to his congregation by Mr. Sanders, a very intelligent young Congregational minister of Manly, far above the level of Australasian or, indeed, British clerics. It was a novel experience for me to be in a Nonconformist pulpit, but I found an excellent audience, and I hope that they in turn found something comforting and new. One of the most interesting men whom I met in Australia was Dr. Creed, of the New South Wales Parliament, an elderly medical man who has held high posts in the Government. He is blessed with that su- preme gift, a mind which takes a keen interest in every- thing which he meets in life. His researches vary from the cure of diabetes and of alcoholism (both of which he thinks that he has attained) down to the study of Australian Aborigines and of the palæontology of his country. I was interested to find the very high opinion which he has of the brains of the black fellows, and he asserts that their results at the school which is devoted to their education are as high as with the white Australians. They train into excellent tele- graphic operators and other employments needing quick intelligence. The increasing brain power of the human race seems to be in the direction of originating rather than of merely accomplishing. Many can do the lat- ter, but only the very highest can do the former. Dr. Creed is clear upon the fact that no very ancient remains of any sort are to be found anywhere in [160] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST prelate of the so-called Liberal Catholic Church, which aims at preserving the traditions and forms of the old Roman Church, but supplementing them with all mod- ern spiritual knowledge. I fear I am utterly out of sympathy with elaborate forms, which always in the end seem to me to take the place of facts, and to become a husk without a kernel, but none the less I can see a definite mission for such a church as appeal- ing to a certain class of mind. Leadbeater, who has suffered from unjust aspersion in the past, is a vener- able and striking figure. His claims to clairvoyant and other occult powers are very definite, and so far as I had the opportunity of observing him, he certainly lives the ascetic life, which the maintenance of such power demands. His books, especially the little one upon the Astral Plane, seem to me among the best of the sort. But the whole subject of Theosophy is to me a per- petual puzzle. I asked for proofs and Spiritualism has given them to me. But why should I abandon one faith in order to embrace another one? I have done with faith. It is a golden mist in which human beings wander in devious tracks with many a collision. I need the white clear light of knowledge. For that we build from below, brick upon brick, never getting beyond the provable fact. There is the building which will last. But these others seem to build from above downwards, beginning by the assumption that there is supreme human wisdom at the apex. It may be so. But it is a dangerous habit of thought which has led the race astray before, and may again. Yet, I am struck by the fact that this ancient wisdom does de- [162] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST scribe the etheric body, the astral world, and the general scheme which we have proved for ourselves. But when the high priestess of the cult wrote of this she said so much that was against all our own spiritual ex- perience, that we feel she was in touch with something very different from our angels of light. Her followers appreciate that now, and are more charitable than she, but what is the worth of her occult knowledge if she so completely misread that which lies nearest to us, and how can we hope that she is more correct when she speaks of that which is at a distance ? I was deeply attracted by the subject once, but Madame Blavatsky's personality and record repelled me. I have read the defence, and yet Hodgson and the Coulombs seem to me to hold the field. Could any conspiracy be so broad that it included numerous forged letters, trap doors cut in floors, and actually corroborative accounts in the books of a flower seller in the bazaar? On the other hand, there is ample evi- dence of real psychic powers, and of the permanent esteem of men like Sinnett and Olcott whom none could fail to respect. It is the attitude of these hon- ourable men which commends and upholds her, but sometimes it seems hard to justify it. As an example, in the latter years of her life she wrote a book, "The Caves and Jungles of Hindustan,” in which she de- scribes the fearsome adventures which she and Olcott had in certain expeditions, falling down precipices and other such escapes. Olcott, like the honest gentleman he was, writes in his diary that there is not a word of truth in this, and that it is pure fiction. And yet, after this very damaging admission, in the same page he [163] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST never grasped by our critics—that the actual character of a man is as much separate from his mediumistic powers, as it would be from his musical powers. Both are inborn gifts beyond the control of their possessor. The medium is the telegraph instrument and the tele- graph boy united in one, but the real power is that which transmits the message, which he only receives and delivers. The remark applies to the Fox sisters as much as it does to Home. Talking about Home, it is astonishing how the ad- verse judgment of the Vice-Chancellor Gifford, a materialist, absolutely ignorant of psychic matters, has influenced the minds of men. The very materialists who quote it, would not attach the slightest importance to the opinion of an orthodox judge upon the views of Hume, Payne, or any free-thinker. It is like quoting a Roman tribune against a Christian. The real facts of the case are perfectly clear to anyone who reads the documents with care. The best proof of how blame- less Home was in the matter is that of all the men of honour with whom he was on intimate terms—men like Robert Chambers, Carter Hall, Lord Seaton, Lord Adare and others—not one relaxed in their friendship after the trial. This was in 1866, but in 1868 we find these young noblemen on Christian-name terms with the man who would have been outside the pale of society had the accusations of his enemies been true. Whilst we were in Sydney, a peculiar ship, now called the Marella, was brought into the harbour as part of the German ship surrender. It is commonly reported that this vessel, of very grandiose construc- tion, was built to conduct the Kaiser upon a triumphal [166] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Here is another. "HONORED SIR,—Just a few lines in limited time to ask you if you tell the future. If so, what is your charges? Please excuse no stamped and ad. envelope -out of stamps and in haste to catch mail. Please excuse." On the other hand, I had many which were splen- didly instructive and helpful. I was particularly struck by one series of spirit messages which were received in automatic writing by a man living in the Bush in North Queensland, and thrown upon his own resources. They were descriptive of life in the beyond, and were in parts extremely corroborative of the Vale Owen messages, though they had been taken long prior to that date. Some of the points of resemblance were so marked and so unusual that they seem clearly to come from a com- mon inspiration. As an example, this script spoke of the creative power of thought in the beyond, but added the detail that when the object to be created was large and important a band of thinkers was required, just as a band of workers would be here. This exactly corre- sponds to the teaching of Vale Owen's guide. [168] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST that was his conversation in a fog. It was of a dis- tinctly depressing character, as I had occasion to learn when we ran into very thick weather among the rocky islands which make navigation so difficult to the north of Auckland. Between the screams of the siren I would hear a still small voice in the bunk above me. "We are now somewhere near the Three Kings. It is an isolated group of rocks celebrated for the wreck of the Elingamite, which went ashore on just such a morning as this." (Whoo-ee! remarked the fog- horn). "They were nearly starved, but kept themselves alive by fish which were caught by improvised lines made from the ladies' stay laces. Many of them died." I lay digesting this and staring at the fog which crawled all round the port hole. Presently he was off again. "You can't anchor here, and there is no use stopping her, for the currents run hard and she would drift on to one of the ledges which would rip the side out of her.” (Whoo-ee! repeated the foghorn). "The islands are perpendicular with deep water up to the rocks, so you never know they are there until you hit them, and then, of course, there is no reef to hold you up.” (Whoo-ee!) “Close by here is the place where the Wairarapa went down with all hands a few years ago. It was just such a day as this when she struck the Great Barrier " It was about this time that I decided to go on deck. Captain Brown had made me free of the bridge, so I climbed up and joined him there, peering out into the slow-drifting scud. I spent the morning there, and learned something [170] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST of the anxieties of a sailor's life. Captain Brown had in his keeping, not only his own career and reputation, but what was far more to him, the lives of more than three hundred people. We had lost all our bearings, for we had drifted in the fog during those hours when it was too thick to move. Now the scud was coming in clouds, the horizon lifting to a couple of miles, and then sinking to a few hundred yards. On each side of us and ahead were known to be rocky islands or promontories. Yet we must push on to our destination. It was fine to see this typical British sailor working his ship as a huntsman might take his horse over diffi- cult country, now speeding ahead when he saw an opening, now waiting for a fogbank to get ahead, now pushing in between two clouds. For hours we worked along with the circle of oily lead-coloured sea around us, and then the grey veil, rising and falling, drifting and waving, with danger lurking always in its shadow. There are strange results when one stares intently over such a sea, for after a time one feels that it all slopes upwards, and that one is standing deep in a saucer with the rim far above one. Once in the rifts we saw a great ship feeling her way southwards, in the same difficulties as ourselves. She was the Niagara, from Vancouver to Auckland. Then, as suddenly as the raising of a drop-curtain, up came the fog, and there ahead of us was the narrow path which led to safety. The Niagara was into it first, which seemed to matter little, but really mattered a good deal, for her big business occupied the Port Authorities all the evening, while our little business was not even allowed to come alongside until such an hour that we could [171] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST in the Press with a long tirade of abuse attached to it, founded upon the absurd theory that all the photos had been taken by me, and that there was no proof of their truth save in my word. One gets used to being indi- rectly called a liar, and I can answer arguments with self-restraint which once I would have met with the toe of my boot. However, a little breeze of this sort does no harm, but rather puts ginger into one's work, and my audience were very soon convinced of the ab- surdity of the position of the six dissenting photog- raphers who had judged that which they had not seen. Auckland is the port of call of the American steam- ers, and had some of that air of activity and progress which America brings with her. The spirit of enter- prise, however, took curious shapes, as in the case of one man who was a local miller, and pushed his trade by long advertisements at the head of the newspapers, which began with abuse of me and my ways, and ended by a recommendation to eat desiccated corn, or what- ever his particular commodity may have been. The result was a comic jumble which was too funny to be offensive, though Auckland should discourage such pleasantries, as they naturally mar the beautiful impres- sion which her fair city and surroundings make upon the visitor. I hope I was the only victim, and that every stranger within her gates is not held up to ridicule for the purpose of calling attention to Mr. Blank's desiccated corn. I seemed destined to have strange people mixed up with my affairs in Auckland, for there was a conjuror in the town, who, after the fashion of that rather bla- tant fraternity, was offering £1,000 that he could do [173] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST anything I could do. As I could do nothing, it seemed easy money. In any case, the argument that because you can imitate a thing therefore the thing does not exist, is one which it takes the ingenuity of Mr. Maske- lyne to explain. There was also an ex-Spiritualist medium (so-called) who covered the papers with his advertisements, so that my little announcement was quite overshadowed. He was to lecture the night after me in the Town Hall, with most terrifyingsrevelations. I was fascinated by his paragraphs, and should have liked greatly to be present, but that was the date of my exodus. Among other remarkable advertisements was one "What has become of 'Pelorus Jack'? Was he a lost soul ?" Now, "Pelorus Jack” was a white dolphin, who at one time used to pilot vessels into a New Zea- land harbour, gambolling under the bows, so that the question really did raise curiosity. However, I learned afterwards that my successor did not reap the harvest which his ingenuity deserved, and that the audi- ence was scanty and derisive. What the real psychic meaning of “Pelorus Jack” may have been was not recorded by the press. From the hour I landed upon the quay at Auckland until I waved my last farewell my visit was made pleasant, and every wish anticipated by the Rev. Jas- per Calder, a clergyman who has a future before him, though whether it will be in the Church of England or not, time and the Bishop will decide. Whatever he may do, he will remain to me and to many more the nearest approach we are likely to see to the ideal Christian—much as he will dislike my saying so. After all, if enemies are given full play, why should not [174] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST friends redress the balance? I will always carry away the remembrance of him, alert as a boy, rushing about to serve anyone, mixing on equal terms with scally- wags on the pier, reclaiming criminals whom he called his brothers, winning a prize for breaking-in a buck- jumper, which he did in order that he might gain the respect of the stockmen; a fiery man of God in the pulpit, but with a mind too broad for special dispen- sations, he was like one of those wonderfully virile creatures of Charles Reade. The clergy of Australasia are stagnant and narrow, but on the other hand, I have found men like the Dean of Sydney, Strong of Melbourne, Sanders of Manly, Calder of Auckland, and others whom it is worth crossing this world to meet. Of my psychic work at Auckland there is little to be said, save that I began my New Zealand tour under the most splendid auspices. Even Sydney had not furnished greater or more sympathetic audiences than those which crowded the great Town Hall upon two successive nights. I could not possibly have had a better reception, or got my message across more suc- cessfully. All the newspaper ragging and offensive advertisements had produced (as is natural among a generous people) a more kindly feeling for the stranger, and I had a reception I can never forget. This town is very wonderfully situated, and I have never seen a more magnificent view than that from Mount Eden, an extinct volcano about 900 feet high, at the back of it. The only one which I could class with it is that from Arthur's Seat, also an extinct volcano about 900 feet high, as one looks on Edinburgh [175] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST and its environs. Edinburgh, however, is for ever shrouded in smoke, while here the air is crystal clear, and I could clearly see Great Barrier Island, which is a good eighty miles to the north. Below lay the most marvellous medley of light blue water and light green land mottled with darker foliage. We could see not only the whole vista of the wonderful winding har- bour, and the seas upon the east of the island, but we could look across and see the firths which connected with the seas of the west. Only a seven-mile canal is needed to link the two up, and to save at least two hundred miles of dangerous navigation amid those rock-strewn waters from which we had so happily emerged. Of course it will be done, and when it is done it should easily pay its way, for what ship coming from Australia—or going to it—but would gladly pay the fees? The real difficulty lies not in cutting the canal, but in dredging the western opening, where shifting sandbanks and ocean currents combine to make a dangerous approach. I see in my mind's eye two great breakwaters, stretching like nippers into the Pacific at that point, while, between the points of the nippers, the dredgers will for ever be at work. It will be difficult, but it is needed and it will be done. The Australian Davis Cup quartette-Norman Brooks, Patterson, O'Hara Wood and another-had come across in the Mahono with us and were now at the Grand Hotel. There also was the American team, including the formidable Tilden, now world's cham- pion. The general feeling of Australasia is not as cordial as one would wish to the United States for the moment. I have met several men back from that coun- [176] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST try who rather bitterly resent the anti-British agitation which plays such a prominent part in the American press. This continual nagging is, I am sorry to say, wearing down the stolid patience of the Britisher more than I can ever remember, and it is a subject on which I have always been sensitive as I have been a life-long advocate of Anglo-American friendship, leading in the fullness of time to some loose form of Anglo-Ameri- can Union. At present it almost looks as if these racial traitors who make the artificial dissensions were suc- ceeding for a time in their work of driving a wedge between the two great sections of the English-speaking peoples. My fear is that when some world crisis comes, and everything depends upon us all pulling together, the English-speakers may neutralise each other. There lies the deadly danger. It is for us on both sides to endeavour to avoid it. Everyone who is in touch with the sentiment of the British officers in Flanders knows that they found men of their own heart in the brave, unassuming American officers who were their comrades, and often their pu- pils. It is some of the stay-at-home Americans who appear to have such a false perspective, and who fail to realise that even British Dominions, such as Canada and Australia, lost nearly as many men as the United States in the war, while Britain herself laid down ten lives for every one spent by America. This is not America's fault, but when we see apparent for- getfulness of it on the part of a section of the Ameri- can people when our wounds are still fresh, it cannot be wondered at that we feel sore. We do not adver- tise, and as a result there are few who know that we [177] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST faced. Either he is a liar, in which case he is, beyond all doubt, the most realistic writer of adventure since Defoe, or else he speaks the truth, in which case he is a great explorer. I see no possible avoidance of this dilemma, so that which ever way you look at it the man deserves credit which he has never received. We set off, four of us, to visit Mr. Clement Wragge, who is the most remarkable personality in Auckland- dreamer, mystic, and yet very practical adviser on all matters of ocean and of air. On arriving at the charming bungalow, buried among all sorts of broad-leaved shrubs and trees, I was confronted by a tall, thin figure, clad in black, with a face like a sadder and thinner Bernard Shaw, dim, dreamy eyes, heavily pouched, with a blue turban sur- mounting all. On repeating my desire he led me apart into his study. I had been warned that with his active brain and copious knowledge I would never be able to hold him to the point, so, in the dialogue which followed, I perpetually headed him off as he turned down bye paths, until the conversation almost took the form of a game. "Mr. Wragge, you are, I know, one of the greatest authorities upon winds and currents.” "Well, that is one of my pursuits. When I was young I ran the Ben Nevis Observatory in Scotland and " "It was only a small matter I wished to ask you. You'll excuse my directness as I have so little time.” "Certainly. What is it?" "If the Maoris came, originally, from Hawaii, what [180] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST prevailing winds would their canoes meet in the 2,000 miles which they crossed to reach New Zealand ?” The dim eyes lit up with the joy of the problem, and the nervous fingers unrolled a chart of the Pacific. He flourished a pair of compasses. "Here is Hawaii. They would start with a north- westerly trade wind. That would be a fair wind. I may say that the whole affair took place far further back than is usually supposed. We have to get back to astronomy for our fixed date. Don't imagine that the obliquity of the ecliptic was always 23 degrees.” "The Maoris had a fair wind then?” The compasses stabbed at the map. “Only down to this point. Then they would come on the Doldrums—the calm patch of the equator. They could paddle their canoes across that. Of course, the remains at Easter Island prove " "But they could not paddle all the way.” “No; they would run into the south-easterly trades. Then they made their way to Rarotonga in Tahiti. It was from here that they made for New Zealand." “But how could they know New Zealand was there?” “Ah, yes, how did they know ?” "Had they compasses ?” “They steered by the stars. We have a poem of theirs which numbers the star-gazer as one of the crew. We have a chart, also, cut in the rocks at Hawaii, which seems to be the plot of a voyage. Here is a slide of it.” He fished out a photo of lines and scratches upon a rock. “Of course," said he, "the root of the matter is that missionaries from Atlantis permeated the Pacific, com- [181] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ing across Central America, and left their traces every- where.” Ah, Atlantis! I am a bit of an Atlantean myself, so off we went at scratch and both enjoyed ourselves greatly until time had come to rejoin the party and meet Mr. Wragge's wife, a charming Brahmin lady from India, who was one of the most gracious personalities I have met in my wanderings. The blue-turbaned, eager man, half western science, half eastern mystic, and his dark-eyed wife amid their profusion of flowers will linger in my memory. Mrs. Wragge was eager that I go and lecture in India. Well, who knows? I was so busy listening to Mr. Wragge's Atlantean theories that I had no chance of laying before him my own contribution to the subject, which is, I think, both original and valid. If the huge bulk of Atlantis sank beneath the ocean, then, assuredly, it raised such a tidal wave as has never been known in the world's his- tory. This tidal wave, since all sea water connects, would be felt equally all over the world, as the wave of Krakatoa was in 1883 felt in Europe. The wave must have rushed over all flat coasts and drowned every living thing, as narrated in the biblical narrative. Therefore, since this catastrophe was, according to Plato's account, not very much more than 10,000 years ago, there should exist ample evidence of a wholesale destruction of life, especially in the flatter lands of the globe. Is there such evidence? Think of Darwin's account of how the pampas of South America are in places one huge grave-yard. Think, also, of the mam- moth remains which strew the Tundras of Siberia, and which are so numerous that some of the arctic islands [182] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST admirable chance of seeing the wonderful panorama. It was blowing a full gale, and the road is so exposed that even motors are sometimes upset by the force of the wind. On this occasion nothing more serious be- fell us than the loss of Mr. Smythe's hat, which disap- peared with such velocity that no one was able to say what had become of it. It simply was, and then it was not. The yellow of the foreshore, the green of the shallows, the blue mottled with purple of the deep, all fretted with lines of foam, made an exhilarating sight. The whole excursion was a brief but very pleas- ant break in our round of work. Another pleasant experience was that I met Dr. Purdey, who had once played cricket with me, when we were very young, at Edinburgh University. Eheu fugaces! I had also the pleasure of meeting Mr. Massey, the Premier, a bluff, strong, downright man who impresses one with his force and sincerity. I had the privilege when I was at Wellington of seeing the first edition of "Robinson Crusoe,” which came out originally in three volumes. I had no idea that the three-decker dated back to 1719. It had a delightful map of the island which would charm any boy, and must have been drawn up under the personal guidance of Defoe himself. I wonder that map has not been taken as an integral part of the book, and reproduced in every edition, for it is a fascinating and a helpful document. I saw this rare book in the Turnbull Library, which, under the loving care of Mr. Anderson (himself no mean poet), is a fine little collection of books got together by a Wellington man of business. In a raw [185] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST young land such a literary oasis is like a Gothic Cathe- dral in the midst of a suburb of modern villas. Any- one can come in to consult the books, and if I were a Wellingtonian I would certainly spend a good deal of time there. I handled with fitting reverence a first edition of "Lyrical Ballads," where, in 1798, Coleridge and Wordsworth made their entry hand in hand into poetical literature. I saw an original Hakluyt, the book which has sent so many brave hearts a-roving. There, too, was a precious Kelmscott "Chaucer,” a Plutarch and Montaigne, out of which Shakespeare might have done his cribbing; Capt. Cook's manuscript “Diary,” written in the stiff hand of a very methodical man; a copy of Swinburne's “Poems and Ballads,” which is one of twenty from a recalled edition, and many other very rare and worthy volumes carefully housed and clad. I spent a mellow hour among them. I have been looking up all the old books upon the Maoris which I could find, with the special intent of clearing up their history, but while doing so I found in one rather rare volume, "Old New Zealand,” an account of a Maori séance, which seems to have been in the early forties, and, therefore, older than the Hydesville knockings. I only wish every honest materialist could read it and compare it with the ex- periences which we have, ourselves, independently reported. Surely they cannot persist in holding that such identical results are obtained by coincidence, or that fraud would work in exactly the same fashion in two different hemispheres. A popular young chief had been killed in battle. The white man was invited to join the solemn circle [186] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST who hoped to regain touch with him. The séance was in the dark of a large hut, lit only by the ruddy glow of a low fire. The white man, a complete unbe- liever, gives his evidence in grudging fashion, but cannot get past the facts. The voice came, a strange melancholy sound, like the wind blowing into a hollow vessel. “Salutation! Salutation to you all! To you, my tribe! Family, I salute you! Friends, I salute you!" When the power waned the voice cried, "Speak to me, the family! Speak to me!” In the pub- lished dialogue between Dr. Hodgson after his death and Professor Hyslop, Hodgson cries, “Speak, Hyslop!" when the power seemed to wane. For some reason it would appear either by vibrations or by con- centrating attention to help the communicator. "It is well with me," said the chief. “This place is a good place.” He was with the dead of the tribe and de- scribed them, and offered to take messages to them. The incredulous white man asked where a book had been concealed which only the dead man knew about. The place was named and the book found. The white man himself did not know, so there was no telepathy. Finally, with a "Farewell !" which came from high in the air, the spirit passed back to immaterial conditions. This is, I think, a very remarkable narrative. If you take it as literally true, which I most certainly do, since our experience corroborates it, it gives us some points for reflection. One is that the process is one known in all the ages, as our Biblical reading has already told us. A second is that a young barbarian chief with no advantages of religion finds the next world a very pleasant place, just as our dead do, and [187] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST that they love to come back and salute those whom they have left, showing a keen memory of their earth life. Finally, we must face the conclusion that the mere power of communication has no elevating effect in itself, otherwise these tribes could not have con- tinued to be ferocious savages. It has to be united with the Christ message from beyond before it will really help us upon the upward path. Before I left Wellington the Spiritualists made me a graceful presentation of a travelling rug, and I was able to assure them that if they found the rug I would find the travelling. It is made of the beautiful woollen material in which New Zealand is supreme. The presentation was made by Mrs. Stables, the President of the New Zealand Association, an energetic lady to whom the Cause owes much. A greenstone penholder was given to me for my wife, and a little charm for my small daughter, the whole proceedings being marked with great cordiality and good feeling. The faithful are strong in Wellington, but are much divided among themselves, which, I hope, may be alleviated as a consequence of my visit. Nothing could have been more successful than my two meetings. The Press was splendidly sympathetic, and I left by a night boat in high heart for my campaign in the South Island. [188] CHAPTER IX The Anglican Colony.-Psychic dangers.-The learned dog. -Absurd newspaper controversy.-A backward commu- nity.—The Maori tongue.—Their origin.—Their treat- ment by the Empire.- A fiasco.—The Pa of Kaiopoi.- Dr. Thacker.-Sir Joseph Kinsey.-A generous collector. -Scott and Amundsen.-Dunedin.--A genuine medium. -Evidence.-The shipping strike.—Sir Oliver.-Fare- well. I am afraid that the average Britisher looks upon New Zealand as one solid island. If he had to cross Cook's Strait to get from the northern to the southern half, he would never forget his lesson in geography, for it can be as nasty a bit of water as is to be found in the world, with ocean waves, mountain winds and marine currents all combining into a horrible chaos. Twelve good hours separate Wellington in the north from Lyttleton, which is the port of Christchurch in the south. A very short railway joins the two latter places. My luck held good, and I had an excellent pas- sage, dining in Wellington and breakfasting in Christ- church. It is a fine city, the centre of the famous Can- terbury grazing country. Four shiploads of people calling themselves the Canterbury Pilgrims arrived here in 1852, built a cathedral, were practically ruled over by Bishop Selwyn, and tried the successful experiment of establishing a community which should be as Anglican as New England is Nonconformist. The distinctive [189] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST character has now largely disappeared, but a splendid and very English city remains as a memorial of their efforts. When you are on the green, sloping banks of the river Avon, with the low, artistic bridges, it would not be hard to imagine that you were in the Backs at Cambridge. At Christchurch I came across one of those little bits of psychic evidence which may be taken as cer- tainly true, and which can be regarded, therefore, as pieces which have to be fitted into the jig-saw puzzle in order to make the completed whole, at that far-off date when a completed whole is within the reach of man's brain. It concerns Mr. Michie, a local Spiritu- alist of wide experience. On one occasion some years ago, he practised a short cut to psychic power, acquired through a certain method of breathing and of action, which amounts, in my opinion, to something in the nature of self-hypnotisation. I will not give de- tails, as I think all such exercises are dangerous save for very experienced students of these matters, who know the risk and are prepared to take it. The result upon Mr. Michie, through some disregard upon his part of the conditions which he was directed to observe, was disastrous. He fell into an insidious illness with certain psychic symptoms, and within a few months was reduced to skin and bone. Mr. Michie's wife is mediumistic and liable to be controlled. One day an entity came to her and spoke through her to her hus- band, claiming to be the spirit of one, Gordon Stanley. He said: “I can sympathise with your case, because my own death was brought about in exactly the same way. I will help you, however, to fight against it and to [190] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST duty to go forward if he clearly sees that there is something to be won. To meet death in conquering death is to die in victory—the ideal death. Whilst I was at Auckland Mr. Poynton, a sti- pendiary magistrate there, told me of a dog in Christ- church which had a power of thought comparable, not merely to a human being, but even, as I understood him, to a clairvoyant, as it would bark out the number of coins in your pocket and other such questions. The alternative to clairvoyance was that he was a very quick and accurate thought-reader, but in some cases the power seemed to go beyond this. Mr. Poynton, who had studied the subject, mentioned four learned beasts in history: a marvellous horse in Shakespeare's time, which was burned with its master in Florence; the Boston skipper's dog; Hans, the Russian horse, and Darkie of Christchurch. He investigated the latter himself, as one of a committee of three. On the first occasion they got no results. On the second, ninety per cent. of the questions were right, and they included sums of addition, subtraction, etc. "It was uncanny," he wrote. I called, therefore, upon Mrs. McGibbon, the owner, who allowed me to see the dog. He was a dark, vivacious fox terrier, sixteen years old, blind and deaf, which obviously impaired his powers. In spite of his blindness he dashed at me the moment he was allowed into the room, pawing at me and trembling all over with excitement. He was, in fact, so excited that he was of little use for demonstration, as when once he began to bark he could not be induced to stop. Occa- sionally he steadied down, and gave us a touch of his (192) THE PEOPLE OF TURI'S CANOE, AFTER A VOYAGE OF GREAT HARDSHIP, AT LAST SIGHT THE SHORES OF NEW ZEALAND. From a painting in the Auckland Art Gallery by C. F. Goldie and L. J. Steele. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST true quality. When a half-crown was placed before him and he was asked how many sixpences were in it, he gave five barks, and four for a florin, but when a shilling was substituted he gave twelve, which looked as if he had pennies in his mind. On the whole the performance was a failure, but as he had raised by exhibiting his gifts, £138 for war charities, I took my hat off to him all the same. I will not imitate those psychic researchers who imagine that because they do not get a result, therefore, everyone else who has reported it is a cheat or a fool. On the contrary, I have no doubt that the dog had these powers, though age and excitement had now impaired them. The creature's powers were first discovered when the son of the house remarked one day: “I will give you a biscuit if you bark three times." He at once did it. “Now, six times.” He did so. “Now, take three off.” He barked three times once again. Since then they have hardly found any problem he could not tackle. When asked how many males in the room he always included himself in the number, but omitted himself when asked how many human beings. One wonders how many other dogs have human brains without the humans being clever enough to detect it. I had an amusing controversy in Christchurch with one of the local papers, The Press, which represents the clerical interest, and, also, the clerical intolerance of a cathedral city. It issued an article upon me and my beliefs, severe, but quite within the limits of legiti- mate criticism, quoting against me Professor Hyslop, "who," it said, "is Professor of Logic at Columbia, etc.” To this I made the mild and obvious retort in [193] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST the course of my lecture that as Professor Hyslop was dead, The Press went even further than I in saying that he is Professor at Columbia. Instead of accept- ing this correction, The Press made the tactical error of standing by their assertion, and aggravated it by head-lines which challenged me, and quoted my state- ment as "typical of the inaccuracy of a Spiritualist.” As I rather pride myself on my accuracy, which has seldom been challenged, I answered shortly but politely, as follows: “SIR, I am surprised that the news of the death of Professor Hyslop has not reached New Zealand, and even more surprised that it could be imagined that I would make such a statement on a matter so intimately connected with the subject upon which I lecture without being sure of my fact. I am reported as saying ‘some years,' but, if so, it was a slip of the tongue for ‘some time.' The Professor died either late last year or early in the present one." I should have thought that my answer was conclu- sive, and would have elicited some sort of apology; but instead of this, The Press called loudly upon me in a leading article to apologise, though for what I know not, save that they asserted I had said “some years,” whereas I claim that I actually said "some time.” This drew the following rather more severe letter from me: “Sir, I am collecting New Zealand curiosities, so I will take your leading article home with me. To get the full humour of it one has to remember [194] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ties against a man who has spent great part of his life studying the subject, and who knows the authori- ties better than all his opponents put together-a man who has deliberately used his great gifts in an honest attempt to get at truth. I do think that Christchurch has some need to apologise for its con- troversialists—much more need than our distin- guished visitor has to apologise for what we all know to be his honest convictions." I have never met Dr. John Guthrie in the flesh, but I would thank him here, should this ever meet his eye, for this kindly protest. It will be gathered that I succeeded at Christchurch in performing the feat of waking up a Cathedral City, and all the ex-sleepers were protesting loudly against such a disturbing inrush from the outer world. Glanc- ing at the head lines I see that Bishop Brodie declared it to be "A blasphemy nurtured in fraud," the Dean of Christchurch writes it down as "Spiritism, the abroga- tion of Reason," the Rev. John Patterson calls it "an ancient delusion,” the Rev. Mr. North says it is "a foolish Paganism," and the Rev. Mr. Ready opines that it is "a gospel of uncertainty and conjecture.” Such are the clerical leaders of thought in Christchurch in the year 1920. I think of what the wise old Chinese Control said of similar types at the Melbourne Rescue Circle. “He good man but foolish man. He learn better. Never rise till he learn better. Plenty time yet.” Who loses except themselves ? The enormous number of letters which I get upon psychic subjects—which I do my best to answer-give [196] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST me some curious sidelights, for they are often confi- dential, and would not bear publication. Some of them are from devout, but narrow Christians, who narrate psychic and prophetic gifts which they possess, and at the same time almost resent them on the ground that they are condemned by the Bible. As if the whole Bible was not psychic and prophetic! One very long letter detailed a whole succession of previsions of the most exact character, and wound up by the conviction that we were on the edge of some great discovery. This was illustrated by a simile which seemed very happy. "Have you noticed a tree covered in spider webs during a fog? Well, it was only through the law of the fog that we saw them. They were there all the time, but only when the moisture came could we see them.” It was a good illustration. Many amazing experiences are detailed to me in every town I visit, and though I have no time to verify them and go into details, none the less they fit so accurately with the various types of psychic cases with which I am familiar that I cannot doubt that such occurrences are really very common. It is the injudicious levity with which they are met which prevents their being pub- lished by those who experience them. As an amateur philologist of a superficial type, I am greatly interested in studying the Maori language, and trying to learn whence these wonderful savages came before their twenty-two terrible canoes came down upon the unhappy land which would have been safer had as many shiploads of tigers been dis- charged upon its beach. The world is very old, and these folk have wandered from afar, and by many [197] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST devious paths. Surely there are Celtic traces both in their appearance, their character and their language. An old Maori woman smoking her pipe is the very image of an old Celtic woman occupied the same way. Their word for water is wei, and England is full of Wye and Way river names, dating from the days be- fore the Germans arrived. Strangest of all is their name for the supreme God. A name never mentioned and taboo among them, is Io. “J” is, of course, inter- changeable with “I," so that we get the first two letters of Jove and an approximation of Jehovah. Papa is parent. Altogether there is good evidence that they are from the same root as some European races, pref- erably the Celts. But on the top of this comes a whole series of Japanese combinations of letters, Rangi, Muru, Tiki, and so forth, so that many of the place names seem pure Japanese. What are we to make of such a mixture? Is it possible that one Celtic branch, far away in the mists of time, wandered east while their racial brethren wandered west, so that part reached far Corea while the others reached Ireland ? Then, after getting a tincture of Japanese terms and word endings, they continued their migration, taking to the seas, and finally subduing the darker races who inhabited the Polynesian Islands, so making their way to New Zealand. This wild imagining would at least cover the observed facts. It is impossible to look at some of the Maori faces without realising that they are of European stock. I must interpolate a paragraph here to say that I was pleased, after writing the above, to find that in my blind gropings I had come upon the main conclu- [198] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST man. There are a series of wonderful pictures of Maori life in the same gallery by Goldie and Steele. Of these I reproduce, by permission, one which repre- sents the starving crew of one canoe sighting the distant shore. The engraving only gives a faint indi- cation of the effect of the vividly-coloured original. Reference has been made to the patient industry of the Maori race. A supreme example of this is that every man had his tikki, or image of a little idol made of greenstone, which was hung round his neck. Now, this New Zealand greenstone is one of the hardest objects in nature, and yet it is worn down without metals into these quaint figures. On an average it cook ten years to make one, and it was rubbed down from a chunk of stone into an image by the constant friction of a woman's foot. It is said that the Tahungas, or priests, have much hereditary knowledge of an occult sort. Their oracles were famous, and I have already quoted an example of their séances. A student of Maori lore told me the following interesting story. He was a student of Maori words, and on one occasion a Maori chief let slip an unusual word, let us say "buru," and then seemed confused and refused to answer when the Englishman asked the meaning. The latter took it to a friend, a Tohunga, who seemed much surprised and disturbed, and said it was a word of which a paheka or white man should know nothing. Not to be beaten, my informant took it to an old and wise chief who owed him a return for some favours. This chief was also much exercised in mind when he heard the word, and walked up and down in agitation. Finally he said, [200] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST "Friend, we are both Christians. You remember the chapter in the Bible where Jacob wrestled with an angel. Well, this word 'buru' represents that for which they were wrestling." He would say no more and there it had perforce to be left. The British Empire may be proud of their treatment of the Maoris. Like the Jews, they object to a census, but their number cannot be more than 50,000 in a popu- lation of over a million. There is no question, there- fore, of our being constrained to treat them well. Yet they own vast tracts of the best land in the country, and so unquestioned are their rights that when they forbade a railway to pass down the centre of the North Island, the traffic had to go by sea from Auckland until, at last, after many years, it was shown to the chiefs that their financial interests would be greatly aided by letting the railway through. These financial interests are very large, and many Maoris are wealthy men, buying expensive motor cars and other luxuries. Some of the more educated take part in legislative work, and are distinguished for their eloquence. The half-castes make a particularly fine breed, especially in their youth, for they tend as they grow older to revert to the pure Maori type. New Zealand has no national sin upon its conscience as regards the natives, which is more, I fear, than can be said whole-heartedly for Australia, and even less for Tasmania. Our people never descended to the level of the old Congo, but they have something on their conscience none the less. On December 18th there was some arrangement by which I should meet the Maoris and see the historic Pa of Kaiopoi. The affair, however, was, I am sorry [201] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST hundreds of yards. That was all which really needed defence. The North Island natives, who were of a sterner breed than those of the South, came down under the famous Rauparaha (these Maori names are sad snags in a story) and besieged the place. One can see the saps and follow his tactics, which ended by piling brushwood against the palings-please observe the root "pa” in palings—with the result that he car- ried the place. Massacre Hill stands close by, and so many of the defenders were eaten that their gnawed bones covered the ground within the memory of living men. Such things may have been done by the father of the elderly gentleman who passes you in his motor car with his race glasses slung across his chest. The siege of Kaiopoi was about 1831. Even on a fine sunlit day I was conscious of that heavy atmosphere within the enclosure which impresses itself upon me when I am on the scene of ancient violence. So frightful an episode within so limited a space, where for months the garrison saw its horrible fate drawing nearer day by day, must surely have left some etheric record even to our blunt senses. I was indebted to Dr. Thacker, the mayor, for much kind attention whilst in Christchurch. He is a giant man, but a crippled giant, alas, for he still bears the traces of an injury received in a historic football match, which left his and my old University of Edinburgh at the top of the tree in Scotland. He showed me some curious, if ghastly, relics of his practice. One of these was a tumour of the exact size and shape of a boxing glove, thumb and all, which he cut out of the back of a boxer who had lost a glove fight and taken it greatly [203] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST to heart. Always on many converging lines we come back to the influence of mind over matter. Another most pleasant friendship which I made in Christchurch was with Sir Joseph Kinsey, who has acted as father to several successive British Arctic ex- peditions. Scott and Shackleton have both owed much to him, their constant agent, adviser and friend. Scott's dying hand traced a letter to him, so unselfish and so noble that it alone would put Scott high in the gallery of British worthies. Of all modern men of action Scott seems to me the most lofty. To me he was only an acquaintance, but Kinsey, who knew him well as a friend, and Lady Kinsey, who had all Arctic exploration at her finger ends, were of the same opinion. Sir Joseph discussed the action of Amundsen in making for the pole. When it was known that Amundsen was heading south instead of pursuing his advertised intentions, Kinsey smelled danger and warned Scott, who, speaking from his own noble loyalty, said, "He would never do so dishonourable a thing. My plans are published and are known to all the world.” However, when he reached the ice, and when Pennell located the “Fram," he had to write and admit that Kinsey was right. It was a sad blow, that forestalling, though he took it like the man that he was. None the less, it must have preyed upon the spirits of all his party and weakened their resistance in that cruel return journey. On the other hand Amundsen's expedition, which was conducted on rather less than a sixth of the cost of the British, was a triumph of organisation, and he had the good luck or [204] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST public, instead of being confined to a favoured few. How can the bulk of the people ever get into touch with a good medium if they are debarred from doing so in the ordinary way of business? Mrs. Roberts is a stout, kindly woman, with a motherly manner, and a sensitive, expressive face. When in touch with my conditions she at once gave the names of several relatives and friends who have passed over, without any slurring or mistakes. She then cried, “I see an elderly lady here—she is a beau- tifully high spirit-her name is Selina.” This rather unusual name belonged to my wife's mother, who died nearly two years ago. Then, suddenly, becoming slightly convulsed, as a medium does when her mechan- ism is controlled by another, she cried with an inde- scribable intensity of feeling, “Thank God! Thank God to get in touch again! Jean! Jean! Give my dear love to Jean!" Both names, therefore, had been got correctly, that of the mother and the daughter. Is it not an affront to reason to explain away such results by wild theories of telepathy, or by anything save the perfectly plain and obvious fact that spirit communion is indeed true, and that I was really in touch with that dead lady who was, even upon earth, a beautifully high and unselfish spirit. I had a number of other communications through Mrs. Roberts that night, and at a second interview two days later, not one of which erred so far as names were concerned. Among others was one who professed to be Dr. Russell Wallace. I should be honoured, indeed, to think that it was so, but I was unable to hit on anything which would be evidential. I asked him if his further experience had [207] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST taught him anything more about reincarnation, which he disputed in his lifetime. He answered that he now accepted it, though I am not clear whether he meant for all cases. I thanked him for any spiritual help I had from him. His answer was “Me! Don't thank me! You would be surprised if you knew who your real helpers are.” He added, “By your work I rise. We are co-workers !” I prayed that it be so, for few men have lived for whom I have greater respect; wise and brave, and mellow and good. His biography was a favourite book of mine long before I understood the full significance of Spiritualism, which was to him an evolution of the spirit on parallel lines to that evolu- tion of the body which he did so much to establish. Now that my work in New Zealand was drawing to a close a very grave problem presented itself to Mr. Smythe and myself, and that was how we were to get back to our families in Australia. A strike had broken out, which at first seemed a small matter, but it was accentuated by the approach of Christmas and the fact that many of the men were rather looking for an excuse for a holiday. Every day things became blacker. Once before Mr. Smythe had been held up for four months by a similar cause, and, indeed, it has become a very serious consideration for all who visit New Zealand. We made a forced march for the north amid constant rumours that far from reaching Aus- tralia we could not even get to the North Island, as the twelve-hour ferry boats were involved in the strike. I had every trust in my luck, or, as I should prefer to say, in my helpers, and we got the Maori on the last ferry trip which she was sure to take. Up to the last [208] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST moment the firemen wavered, and we had no stewards on board, but none the less, to our inexpressible relief we got off. There was no food on the ship and no one to serve it, so we went into a small hostel at Lyttleton before we started, to see what we could pick up. There was a man seated opposite to me who assumed the air of laboured courtesy and extreme dignity, which is one phase of alcoholism. “ 'Scuse me, sir!" said he, looking at me with a glassy stare, “but you bear most 'straordinary resem- blance Olver Lodge." I said something amiable. “Yes, sir—'straordinary! Have you ever seen Olver Lodge, sir?" "Yes, I have.” "Well, did you perceive resemblance?”. "Sir Oliver, as I remember him, was a tall man with a grey beard." He shook his head at me sadly. "No, sir I heard him at Wellington last week No beard. A moustache, sir, same as your own." "You're sure it was Sir Oliver?" A slow smile came over his face. "Blesh my soul-Conan Doyle—that's the name. Yes, sir, you bear truly remarkable resemblance Conan Doyle." I did not say anything further so I daresay he has not discovered yet the true cause of the resemblance. All the nerve-wracking fears of being held up which we endured at Lyttleton were repeated at Wellington, where we had taken our passages in the little steamer Paloona. In any case we had to wait for a day, which [209] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST I spent in clearing up my New Zealand affairs while Mr. Smythe interviewed the authorities and paid no less than £141 war tax upon the receipts of our lectures -a heavy impost upon a fortnight's work. Next morning, with our affairs and papers all in order, we boarded our little craft. Up to the last moment we had no certainty of start- ing. Not only was the strike in the air, but it was Christmas Eve, and it was natural enough that the men should prefer their own homes to the stokehold of the Paloona. Agents with offers of increased pay were scouring the docks. Finally our complement was com- pleted, and it was a glad moment when the hawsers were thrown off, and after the usual uncomfortable preliminaries we found ourselves steaming in a sharp wind down the very turbulent waters of Cook's Strait. The place is full of Cook's memory. Everywhere the great man has left his traces. We passed Cook's Island where the Endeavour actually struck and had to be careened and patched. What a nerve the fellow had! So coolly and deliberately did he do his work that even now his charting holds good, I understand, in many long stretches of coast. Tacking and wear- ing, he poked and pried into every estuary, naming capes, defining bays, plotting out positions, and yet all the while at the mercy of the winds, with a possible lee shore always before him, with no comrade within hail, and with swarms of cannibals eyeing his little ship from the beach. After I have seen his work I shall feel full of reverence every time I pass that fine statue which adorns the mall side of the great Admiralty building. [210] CHAPTER X Christian origins. — Mithraism. — Astronomy. - Exercising boats.-Bad news from home.-Futile strikes.-Labour Party.—The blue wilderness.—Journey to Brisbane.- Warm reception.-Friends and foes.-Psychic experi- ence of Dr. Doyle.—Birds.-Criticism on Melbourne.- Spiritualist Church.-Ceremony.—Sir Matthew Nathan. -Alleged repudiation of Queensland. Billy tea.—The bee farm.-Domestic service in Australia.-Hon. John Fihilly.-Curious photograph by the state photographer. -The "Orsova.” THE voyage back from New Zealand to Melbourne was pleasant and uneventful, though the boat was small and there was a sea rough enough to upset many of the passengers. We were fortunate in our Captain, Doorby, who, I found, was a literary confrère with two books to his credit, one of them a record of the relief ship Morning, in which he had served at the time of Scott's first expedition, the other a little book, "The Handmaiden of the Navy," which gave some of his adventures and experiences in the merchant service during the great war. He had been torpedoed once, and had lost, on another occasion, nearly all his crew with plague, so that he had much that was interesting to talk about. Mr. Blake, of the Strand Magazine, was also on board. A Unitarian Minister, Mr. Hale, was also a valuable companion, and we had much discus- sion over the origins of Christianity, which was the more interesting to me as I had taken advantage of [212] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST the voyage to re-read the Acts and Paul's Epistles. There are no documents which can be read so often and yet reveal something new, the more so when you have that occult clue which is needful before Paul can be understood. It is necessary also to know something of Mythra worship and the other philosophies which Paul had learned, and woven into his Christianity. I have stated elsewhere my belief that all expressions about redemption by blood, the blood of the lamb, etc., are founded upon the parallel of the blood of the bull which was shed by the Mythra-worshippers, and in which they were actually baptised. Enlarging upon this, Mr. Hale pointed out on the authority, if I remem- ber right, of Pfleiderer's “Christian Origins," that in the Mythra service something is placed over the candi- date, a hide probably, which is called "putting on Mythra,” and corresponds with Paul's expression about "putting on Christ.” Paul, with his tremendous energy and earnestness, fixed Christianity upon the world, but I wonder what Peter and those who had actually heard Christ's words thought about it all. We have had Paul's views about Christ, but we do not know Christ's views about Paul. He had been, as we are told by himself, a Jewish Pharisee of the strictest type in his youth at Jerusalem, but was a Roman citizen, had lived long at Tarsus, which was the centre of Mithraism, and was clearly famous for his learning, since Festus twitted him with it. The simple tenets of the carpenter and the fishermen would take strange involved forms in such a brain as that. His epistles are presumably older than the gospels, which may, in their simplicity, represent a protest against his confused theology. [213] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST It was an enjoyable voyage in the little Paloona, and rested me after the whirlwind campaign of New Zea- land. In large-liners one loses in romance what one gains in comfort. On a small ship one feels nearer to Nature, to the water and even to the stars. On clear nights we had magnificent displays of the Southern heaven. I profited by the astronomical knowledge of Mr. Smythe. Here first I was introduced to Alpha Centauri, which is the nearest fixed star, and, there- fore, the cobber to the sun. It is true that it is distant 372 years of light travel, and light travels at about 182,000 miles a second, but when one considers that it takes centuries for average starlight to reach us, we may consider Alpha as snuggling close up to us for companionship in the lonely wastes of space. The diamond belt of Orion looks homely enough with the bright solitaire Sirius sparkling beside it, but there are the Magellanic clouds, the scattered wisps torn from the Milky Way, and there is the strange black space called the Coalsack, where one seems to look right past all created things into a bottomless void. What would not Galileo and all the old untravelled astronomers have given to have one glimpse of this wondrous Southern display? Captain Doorby, finding that he had time in hand, ran the ship into a small deserted bay upon the coast, and, after anchoring, ordered out all the boats for the sake of practice. It was very well done, and yet what I saw convinced me that it should be a Board of Trade regulation, if it is not one already, that once, at least, near the beginning of every long voyage, this should be compulsory. It is only when you come to launch [214] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST them that you really realise which of the davits is rusted up, and which block is tangled, or which boat is without a plug. I was much impressed by this idea as I watched the difficulties which were encountered even in that secluded anchorage. The end of my journey was uneventful, but my joy at being reunited with my family was clouded by the news of the death of my mother. She was eighty-three years of age, and had for some years been almost totally blind, so that her change was altogether a re- lease, but it was sad to think that we should never see the kind face and gracious presence again in its old material form. Denis summed up our feelings when he cried, “What a reception Grannie must have had!" There was never anyone who had so broad and sym- pathetic a heart, a world-mother mourning over everything which was weak or oppressed, and thinking nothing of her own time and comfort in her efforts to help the sufferers. Even when blind and infirm she would plot and plan for the benefit of others, thinking out their needs, and bringing about surprising results by her intervention. For my own psychic work she had, I fear, neither sympathy nor understanding, but she had an innate faith and spirituality which were so natural to her that she could not conceive the needs of others in that direction. She understands now. Whilst in the Blue Mountains I was forced to re- consider my plans on account of the strike which has paralysed all coastal trade. If I should be able to reach Tasmania I might be unable to return, and it would, indeed, be a tragic situation if my family were ready to start for England in the Naldera, and I was unable [215] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST hold up a great vessel. There is nothing but chaos in front of a nation unless it insists upon being master in its own house, and forbids either employed or employer to do that which is for the common scathe. The time seems to be coming when Britons, the world over, will have to fight for liberty against licence just as hard as ever they fought for her against tyranny. This I say with full sympathy for the Labour Party, which I have often been tempted to join, but have always been repelled by their attempt to bully the rest of the State instead of using those means which would certainly en- sure their legitimate success, even if it took some years to accomplish. There are many anomalies and injus- tices, and it is only a people's party which can set them right. Hereditary honours are an injustice, lands owned by feudal or royal gift are an injustice, in- creased private wealth through the growth of towns is an injustice, coal royalties are an injustice, the expense of the law is a glaring injustice, the support of any single religion by the State is an injustice, our divorce laws are an injustice with such a list a real honest Labour Party would be a sure winner if it could per- suade us all that it would not commit injustices itself, and bolster up labour artificially at the expense of everyone else. It is not organised labour which moves me, for it can take care of itself, but it is the indigent governesses with thirty pounds a year, the broken people, the people with tiny pensions, the struggling widows with children—when I think of all these and then of the man who owns a county I feel that there is something deeply, deeply wrong which nothing but some great strong new force can set right. [217] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST One finds in the Blue Mountains that opportunity of getting alone with real Nature, which is so healing and soothing a thing. The wild scrub flows up the hillsides to the very grounds of the hotels, and in a very few minutes one may find oneself in the wilder- ness of ferns and gum trees unchanged from imme- morial ages. It is a very real danger to the young or to those who have no sense of direction, for many people have wandered off and never come back alive -in fact there is a specially enrolled body of searchers who hunt for the missing visitor. I have never in all my travels seen anything more spacious and wonderful than the view from the different sandstone bluffs, look- ing down into the huge gullies beneath, a thousand feet deep, where the great gum trees look like rows of cabbages. I suppose that in water lies the force which, in the course of ages, has worn down the soft, sandy rock and formed these colossal clefts, but the effects are so enormous that one is inclined to think some great earth convulsion must also have been concerned in their production. Some of the cliffs have a sheer drop of over one thousand feet, which is said to be un- equalled in the world. These mountains are so precipitous and tortuous, presenting such a maze to the explorer, that for many years they were a formidable barrier to the extension of the young Colony. There were only about forty miles of arable land from the coast to the great Hawkesbury River, which winds round the base of the mountains. Then came this rocky labyrinth. At last, in 1812, four brave and persevering men—Blaxland, Evans, Wentworth and Lawson—took the matter in [218] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST hand, and after many adventures, blazed a trail across, by which all the splendid hinterland was opened up, including the gold fields, which found their centre in the new town of Bathurst. When one reflects that all the gold had to be brought across this wilderness, with unexplored woodlands fringing the road, it is no won- der that a race of bushrangers sprang into existence, and the marvel is that the police should ever have been able to hunt them down. So fresh is all this very vital history in the development of a nation, that one can still see upon the trees the marks of the explorers' axes, as they endeavoured to find a straight trail among the countless winding gullies. At Mount York, the highest view-point, a monument has been erected to them, at the place from which they got the first glimpse of the promised land beyond. We had been told that in the tropical weather now prevailing, it was quite vain for us to go to Queens- land, for no one would come to listen to lectures. My own belief was, however, that this subject has stirred people very deeply, and that they will suffer any incon- venience to learn about it. Mr. Smythe was of opinion, at first, that my audiences were drawn from those who came from curiosity because they had read my writ- ings, but when he found that the second and the third meetings were as full as the first, he was forced to admit that the credit of success lay with the matter rather than with the man. In any case I reflected that my presence in Brisbane would certainly bring about the usual Press controversy, with a free ventilation of the subject, so we determined to go. Mr. Smythe, for once, did not accompany us, but the very capable lady [219] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST who assists him, Miss Sternberg, looked after all arrangements. It was a very wearisome train journey of twenty- eight hours; tropically hot, rather dusty, with a change in the middle, and the usual stuffiness of a sleeper, which was superior to the ordinary American one, but below the British standard. How the Americans, with their nice sense of decency, can stand the awful ac- commodation their railway companies give them, or at any rate, used to give them, is incomprehensible, but public opinion in all matters asserts itself far less directly in America than in Britain. Australia is half- way between, and, certainly, I have seen abuses there in the management of trains, posts, telegrams and tele- phones, which would have evoked loud protests at home. I think that there is more initiative at home. For example, when the railway strike threatened to throttle the country, the public rose to the occasion and improvised methods which met the difficulty. I have not heard of anything of the kind in the numerous strikes with which this community is harassed. Any individual action arouses attention. I remember the amusement of the Hon. Agar Wynne when, on arriv- ing late at Melbourne, in the absence of porters, I got a trolley, placed my own luggage on it, and wheeled it to a cab. Yet we thought nothing of that when labour was short in London. The country north of Sydney is exactly like the Blue Mountains, on a lesser scale-riven ranges of sand- stone covered with gum trees. I cannot understand those who say there is nothing worth seeing in Aus- tralia, for I know no big city which has glorious [220] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST scenery so near it as Sydney. After crossing the Queensland border, one comes to the Darling Downs, unsurpassed for cattle and wheat. Our first impres- sions of the new State were that it was the most naturally rich of any Australian Colony, and the longer we were in it, the more did we realise that this was indeed so. It is so enormous, however, that it is certain, sooner or later, to be divided into a South, Middle, and North, each of which will be a large and flourishing community. We observed from the rail- way all sorts of new vegetable life, and I was especially interested to notice that our English yellow mullein was lining the track, making its way gradually up country. Even Sydney did not provide a warmer and more personal welcome than that which we both received when we at last reached Brisbane. At Toowoomba, and other stations on the way, small deputations of Spiritualists had met the train, but at Brisbane the platform was crowded. My wife was covered with flowers, and we were soon made to realise that we had been misinformed in the south, when we were told that the movement was confined to a small circle. We were tired, but my wife rose splendidly to the occasion. The local paper says: “Carefully concealing all feelings of fatigue and tiredness after the long and wearisome train journey from Sydney, Lady Doyle charmed the large gathering of Spiritualists assembled at the Central Railway Station on Saturday night, to meet her and her husband. In vivacious fashion, Lady Doyle responded to the many enthusiastic greetings, and she was obviously delighted with the Aoral gifts [221] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST presented to her on her arrival. To a press representa- tive, Lady Doyle expressed her admiration of the Australian scenery, and she referred enthusiastically to the Darling Downs district and to the Toowoomba Range. During her husband's absence in New Zea- land, Lady Doyle and her children spent a holiday in the Blue Mountains (New South Wales), and were delighted with the innumerable gorgeous beauty spots there." After a short experience, when we were far from comfortable, we found our way to the Bellevue Hotel, where a kindly old Irish proprietress, Mrs. Finegan, gave us greater attention and luxury than we had found anywhere up to then on the Australian continent. The usual press discussion was in full swing. The more bigoted clergy in Brisbane, as elsewhere, were very vituperative, but so unreasonable and behind their own congregations in knowledge and intelligence, that they must have alienated many who heard them. Father Lane, for example, preaching in the cathedral, declared that the whole subject was “an abomination to the Lord.” He does not seem to have asked himself why the Lord gave us these powers if they are an abomination. He also declared that we denied our moral responsibility to God in this life, a responsibility which must have weighed rather lightly upon Father Lane when he made so false a statement. The Rev. L. H. Jaggers, not to be outdone in absurdity by Father Lane, described all our fellow-mortals of India, China and Japan as “demoniacal races.” Dr. Cosh put forward the Presbyterian sentiment that I was Anti-Christ and a serious menace to the spiritual life [222] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST of Australia. Really, when I see the want of all truth and charity shown by these gentlemen, it does begin to convince me of the reality of diabolical interference in the affairs of mankind, for I cannot understand why, otherwise, such efforts should be made to obscure, by falsehood and abuse, the great revelation and com- fort which God has sent us. The opposition culmin- ated in an open letter from Dr. Cosh in the Mail, demanding that I should define my exact views as to the Trinity, the Atonement, and other such mysteries. I answered by pointing out that all the religious troubles of the past had come from the attempt to give exact definitions of things which were entirely beyond the human power of thought, and that I refused to be led along so dangerous a path. One Baptist clergy- man, named Rowe, had the courage to say that he was on my side, but with that exception I fear that I had a solid phalanx against me. On the other hand, the general public were amazingly friendly. It was the more wonderful as it was tropical weather, even for Brisbane. In that awful heat the great theatre could not hold the people, and they stood in the upper galleries, packed tightly, for an hour and a half without a movement or a murmur. It was a really wonderful sight. Twice the house was packed this way, so (as the Tasmanian venture was now hopeless, owing to the shipping strike) I determined to remain in our very comfortable quarters at the Bellevue Hotel, and give one more lecture, covering fresh ground. The subject opens up so that I am sure I could lecture for a week without repeating myself. On this occasion the house was crowded once more. [223] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST The theatrical manager said, “Well, if it was comic opera in the season, it could not have succeeded better!" I was rather exhausted at the end, for I spoke, as usual, with no chairman, and gave them a full ninety minutes, but it was nearing the end of my work, and the pros- pect of the quiet time ahead of us helped me on. I met a kinsman, Dr. A. A. Doyle, who is a distin- guished skin specialist, in Brisbane. He knew little of psychic matters, but he had met with a remarkable experience. His son, a splendid young fellow, died at the front. At that moment his father woke to find the young soldier stooping over him, his face quite close. He at once woke his wife and told her that their son, he feared, was dead. But here comes a fine point. He said to the wife, “Eric has had a return of the acne of the face, for which I treated him years ago. I saw the spots.” The next post brought a letter, written before Eric's death, asking that some special ointment should be sent, as his acne had returned. This is a very instructive case, as showing that even an ab- normal thing is reproduced at first upon the etheric body. But what has a materialist to say to the whole story? He can only evade it, or fall back upon his usual theory, that every one who reports such occurrences is either a fool or a liar. We had a pleasant Sunday among the birds of Queensland. Mr. Chisholm, an enthusiastic bird-lover, took us round to see two very large aviaries, since the haunt of the wild birds was beyond our reach. Birds in captivity have always saddened me, but here I found them housed in such great structures, with every com- fort included, and every natural enemy excluded, that [224] LAYING FOUNDATION STONE OF SPIRITUALIST CHURCH AT BRISBANE. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST beautiful river, the Brisbane, rather wider than the Thames, winds through the town, and has sufficient depth to allow ocean steamers to come within cab drive of the hotels. About this time I had the usual experience which every visitor to the States or to the Dominions is liable to, in that his own utterances in his letters home get into print, and boomerang back upon him. My own feelings, both to the Australian people and their country, have been so uniformly whole-hearted that I should have thought no mischief could be made, but at the same time, I have always written freely that which I was prepared to stand by. In this case, the extract, from a private letter, removed from all mod- ifying context, came through as follows: "Sir Conan Doyle, quoted in the International Psychic Gazette, in referring to his 'ups and downs' in Australia, says: 'Amid the "downs” is the Press boycott, caused partly by ignorance and want of proportion, partly by moral cowardice and fear of finding out later that they had backed the wrong horse, or had given the wrong horse fair play. They are very backward, and far behind countries like Iceland and Denmark in the knowledge of what has been done in Spiritualism. They are dear folk, these Australians, but, Lord, they want Spirituality, and dynamiting out of their grooves! The Presby- terians actually prayed that I might not reach the country. This is rather near murder, if they thought their rotten prayers would avail. The result was an excellent voyage, but it is the spiritual deadness of this place which gets on my nerves.'” [226] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST This was copied into every paper in Australia, but it was soon recognised that “this place” was not Australia, but Melbourne, from which the letter was dated. I have already recorded how I was treated by the leading paper in that city, and my general experience there was faithfully reflected in my remarks. Therefore, I had nothing to withdraw. My more extended experience taught me that the general level of intelligence and of spirituality in the Australasian towns is as high as in the average towns of Great Britain, though none are so far advanced as towns like Manchester or Glasgow, nor are there the same number of professional and educated men who have come forward and given testimony. The thirst for information was great, however, and that proved an open mind, which must now lead to a considerable extension of knowledge within the churches as well as without. My remarks had been caused by the action of the Argus, but the Age, the other leading Melbourne paper, seemed to think that its honour was also touched, and had a very severe leading article upon my delinquencies, and my alleged views, which was, as usual, a wild travesty of my real ones. It began this article by the assertion that, apparently, I still thought that Australia was inhabited by the aborigines, before I ventured to bring forward such theories. Such a remark, applied to a subject which has won the assent in varying degrees of everyone who has seriously examined it, and which has its foundation resting upon the labours of some of the greatest minds in the world, did not help me to recover my respect for the mentality and [227] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST breadth of view of the journals of Melbourne. I answered, pointing out that David Syme, the very distinguished founder of the paper, by no means shared this contempt to Spiritualism, as is shown by two long letters included in his published Life. This attitude, and that of so many other objectors, is absolutely unintelligible to me. They must know that this cult is spreading and that many capable minds have examined and endorsed it. They must know, also, that the views we proclaim, the continuance of happy life and the practical abolition of death are, if true, the grandest advance that the human race has ever made. And yet, so often, instead of saying, "Well, here is some one who is supposed to know something about the matter. Let us see if this grand claim can possibly be established by evidence and argument,” they break into insults and revilings as if something offensive had been laid before them. This attitude can only arise from the sluggish conservatism of the human brain, which runs easily in certain well- worn grooves, and is horrified by the idea that some- thing may come to cause mental exertion and readjust- ment. I am bound to add that the general public went out of their way to show that their Press did not represent their views. The following passage is typical of many: “The criticism which you have so justly resented is, I am sure, not in keeping with the views of the majority of the Australian people. In my own small sphere many of my friends have been stirred deeply by your theories, and the inspiration in some cases has been so marked that the fact should afford [228] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST re you satisfaction. We are not all spiritually defunct. Many are quite satisfied that you are giving your best for humanity, and believe that there is a tremen- dous revelation coming to this weary old world.” The Spiritualists of Brisbane, greatly daring, have planned out a church which is to cost £10,000, trusting to those who work with us on the other side to see the enterprise through. The possible fallacy lies in the chance that those on the other side do not desire to see this immense movement become a separate sect, but are in favour of the peaceful penetration of all creeds by our new knowledge. It is on record that early in the movement Senator Talmadge asked two different spirit controls, in different States of the Union, what the ultimate goal of this spiritual outburst might be, and received exactly the same answer from each, namely, that it was to prove immortality and to unify the Churches. The first half has been done, so far as survival implies immortality, and the second may well come to pass, by giving such a large common platform to each Church that they will learn to dis- regard the smaller differences. Be this as it may, one could not but admire the faith and energy of Mr. Reinhold and the others who were determined to have a temple of their own. I laid the foundation stone at three in the afternoon under so tropical a sun that I felt as if the ceremony was going to have its immemorial accompaniment of a human sacrifice and even of a whole-burned offering. The crowd made matters worse, but a friendly by- stander with an umbrella saved me from heat apoplexy. I felt the occasion was a solemn one, for it was cer- [229] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST tainly the first Spiritual Church in the whole of Queens- land, and I doubt if we have many anywhere in Australia, for among our apostolic gifts poverty is conspicuous. It has always amazed me how Theosophists and Christian Scientists get their fine halls and libraries, while we, with our zeal and our knowledge, have some bare schoolroom or worse as our only meeting place. It reflects little credit upon the rich people who accept the comforts we bring, but share none of the burdens we bear. There is a kink in their souls. I spoke at some length, and the people listened with patience in spite of the great heat. It was an occasion when I could, with propriety, lay emphasis upon the restraint and charity with which such a church should be run. The Brisbane paper reports me as follows: "I would emphasise three things. Mind your own business; go on quietly in your own way; you know the truth and do not need to quarrel with other people. There are many roads to salvation. The second point I would urge is that you should live up to your knowledge. We know for certain that we live on after death, that everything we do in this world influences what comes after; therefore, we can afford to be un- selfish and friendly to other religions. Some Spiritual- ists run down the Bible, whereas it is from cover to cover a spiritual book. I would like to see the Bible read in every Spiritualistic Church with particular attention paid to the passages dealing with occultism. The third point I would emphasise is that you should have nothing to do with fortune-telling or anything of that kind. All fortune-telling is really a feeling out [230] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST in the dark. If good things are going to happen to you be content to wait for them, and if evil is to come nothing is to be gained by attempting to anticipate it. My sympathies are with the police in their attitude to fortune-tellers, whose black magic is far removed from the services of our mediums in striving to bring comfort to those whose loved ones have gone before. If these three things are lived up to, this church will be a source of great brightness and happiness." Our work was pleasantly broken by an invitation to lunch with Sir Matthew Nathan, at Government House. Sir Matthew impresses one as a man of character, and as he is a financial authority he is in a position to help by his advice in restoring the credit of Queensland. The matter in dispute, which has been called repudiation, does not, as it seems to me, deserve so harsh a term, as it is one of those cases where there are two sides to the question, so equally balanced that it is difficult for an outsider to pronounce a judgment. On the one hand the great squatters who hold millions of acres in the State had received the land on considerable leases which charged them with a very low rent_almost a nominal one- on condition of their taking up and developing the country. On the other hand, the Government say these leases were granted under very different circumstances, the lessees have already done very well out of them, the war has made it imperative that the State raise funds, and the assets upon which the funds can be raised are all in the hands of these lessees, who should consent to a revision of their agreements. So stands the quarrel, so far as I could understand it, and the [231] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST disapproves. A conservative paper (the Producer's Review, January 1oth, 1921) says: “No living man can say how much Queensland has been damaged by the foolish partisan statements that have been uttered and published.” The article proceeds to show in very convincing style, with chapter and verse, that the Gov- ernment has always been well within its rights, and that a Conservative Government on a previous occa- sion did the same thing, framing a Bill on identical lines. On January 12th my kinsman, Dr. Doyle, with his charming wife, took us out into the bush for a billy tea—that is, to drink tea which is prepared as the bushmen prepare it in their tin cans. It was certainly excellent, and we enjoyed the drive and the whole experience, though uninvited guests of the mosquito tribe made things rather lively for us. I prayed that my face would be spared, as I did not wish to turn up at my lecture as if I had been having a round with Dr. Cosh, and I react in a most whole-hearted way to any attentions from an insect. The result was certainly remarkable, be it coincidence or not, for though my hands were like boxing-gloves, and my neck all swollen, there was not a mark upon my face. I fancy that the hardened inhabitants hardly realise what new chums endure after they are bitten by these pests. It means to me not only disfigurement, but often a sleepless night. My wife and the children seem to escape more lightly. I found many objects of interest in the bush—among others a spider's web so strong that full-sized dragon flies were enmeshed in it. I could not see the creature itself, but it must have been [233] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST as big as a tarantula. Our host was a large landowner as well as a specialist, and he talked seriously of leaving the country, so embittered was he by the land-policy of the Government. At the same time, the fact that he could sell his estate at a fair price seemed to imply that others took a less grave view of the situation. Many of the richer classes think that Labour is adopt- ing a policy of deliberate petty irritation in order to drive them out of the country, but perhaps they are oversensitive. So full was our life in Brisbane that there was hardly a day that we had not some memorable expe- rience, even when I had to lecture in the evening. Often we were going fourteen and fifteen hours a day, and a tropical day at that. On January 14th we were taken to see the largest bee-farm in Australia, run by Mr. H. L. Jones. Ever since I consigned Mr. Sherlock Holmes to a bee farm for his old age, I have been supposed to know something of the subject, but really I am so ignorant that when a woman wrote to me and said she would be a suitable housekeeper to the retired detective because she could “segregate the queen," I did not know what she meant. On this occasion I saw the operation and many other wonderful things which make me appreciate Maeterlinck's prose- poem upon the subject. There is little poetry about Mr. Jones, however, and he is severely practical. He has numbers of little boxes with a store of bee-food compressed into one end of them. Into each he thrusts a queen with eight attendants to look after her. The food is enough to last two months, so he simply puts on a postage stamp and sends it off to any one [234] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST We found in Brisbane, as in every other town, that the question of domestic service, the most important of all questions to a householder, was very acute. Ladies who occupied leading positions in the town assured us that it was impossible to keep maids, and that they were compelled now to give it up in despair, and to do all their own house work with such casual daily assistance as they could get. A pound a week is a common wage for very inefficient service. It is a serious matter and no solution is in sight. English maids are, I am sorry to say, looked upon as the worst of all, for to all the other faults they add constant criticism of their employers, whom they pronounce to be “no ladies” because they are forced to do many things which are not done at home. Inefficiency plus snobbishness is a dreadful mixture. Altogether the lot of the Australian lady is not an easy one, and we admired the brave spirit with which they rose above their troubles. This servant question bears very directly upon the Imperial puzzle of the northern territory. A white man may live and even work there, but a white woman cannot possibly run a household unless domestic labour is plentiful. In that climate it simply means absolute breakdown in a year. Therefore it is a mad policy which at present excludes so rigorously the Chinese, Indians or others who alone can make white households possible. White labour assumes a dog in the manger policy, for it will not, or cannot, do the work itself, and yet it shuts out those who could do it. It is an impossible position and must be changed. How severe and unreasonable are the coloured immigrant laws is [236] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST shown by the fact that the experienced and popular Commander of the Naldera, Captain Lewellin, was fined at Sydney a large sum of money because three Goa Indians deserted from his ship. There is a great demand for Indian camel drivers in the north, and this no doubt was the reason for the desertion, but what a reductio ad absurdum of the law which comes between the demand and the supply, besides punishing an innocent victim. As usual a large number of psychic confidences reached us, some of which were very interesting. One lady is a clairaudient, and on the occasion of her mother falling ill she heard the words "Wednesday- the fifteenth.” Death seemed a matter of hours, and the date far distant, but the patient, to the surprise of the doctors, still lingered. Then came the audible message "She will tell you where she is going.” The mother had lain for two days helpless and comatose. Suddenly she opened her eyes and said in a clear strong voice, “I have seen the mansions in my father's house. My husband and children await me there. I could not have imagined anything so exquisitely lovely.” Then she breathed her last, the date being the 15th. We were entertained to dinner on the last evening by the Hon. John Fihilly, acting Premier of the Colony, and his wife. He is an Irish labour leader with a remarkable resemblance to Dan O'Connell in his younger days. I was pleased to see that the toast of the King was given though it was not called for at a private dinner. Fihilly is a member of the Govern- ment, and I tackled him upon the question of British II. [237] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST emigrants being enticed out by specious promises on the part of Colonial Agents in London, only to find that no work awaited them. Some deplorable cases had come within my own observation, one, an old Lanca- shire Fusilier, having walked the streets for six months. He assured me that the arrangements were now in per- fect order, and that emigrants were held back in the old country until they could be sure that there was a place for them. There are so many out of work in Australia that one feels some sympathy with those labour men who are against fresh arrivals. And there lies the great problem which we have not, with all our experience, managed to master. On the one side illimitable land calling for work. On the other innumerable workers calling for land. And yet the two cannot be joined. I remember how it jarred me when I saw Edmonton, in Western Canada, filled with out-of-workers while the great land lay unin- habited. The same strange paradox meets one here. It is just the connecting link that is missing, and that link lies in wise prevision. The helpless newcomer can do nothing if he and his family are dumped down upon a hundred acres of gum trees. Put yourself in their position. How can they hope with their feeble hands to clear the ground? All this early work must be done for them by the State, the owner repaying after he has made good. Let the emigrant move straight on to a cleared farm, with a shack-house already prepared, and clear instructions as to the best crops, and how to get them. Then it seems to me that emigration would bring no want of employment in its train. But the State must blaze the trail and the [238] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST public follow after. Such arrangements may even now exist, but if so they need expansion and improve- ment, for they do not seem to work. Before leaving Brisbane my attention was drawn to the fact that the State photographer, when he took the scene of the opening of the loan, had produced to all appearance a psychic effect. The Brisbane papers recorded it as follows: " 'It is a remarkable result, and I cannot offer any opinion as to what caused it. It is absolutely mystify- ing.' Such was the declaration made yesterday by the Government photographer, Mr. W. Mobsby, in regard to the unique effect associated with a photograph he took on Thursday last of Sir A. Conan Doyle. Mr. Mobsby, who has been connected with photography since boyhood, explained that he was instructed to take an official photograph of the function at which Sir A. Conan Doyle handed over his subscription to the State Loan organiser. When he arrived, the entrance to the building was thronged by a large crowd, and he had to mount a stepladder, which was being used by the Daily Mail photographer, in order to get a good view of the proceedings. Mr. Mobsby took only one picture, just at the moment Sir A. Conan Doyle was mounting the steps at the Government Tourist Bureau to meet the Acting Premier, Mr. J. Fihilly. Mr. Mobsby developed the film himself, and was amazed to find that while all the other figures in the picture were distinct the form of Sir A. Conan Doyle appeared enveloped in mist and could only be dimly seen. The photograph was taken on an ordinary film with a No. 3a Kodak, and careful examination [239] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST back to realities, we shall deserve what is coming to us. On January 17th we were back, tired but contented, in the Medlow Bath Hotel in the heart of the Blue Mountains—an establishment which I can heartily recommend to any who desire a change from the summer heats of Sydney. [241] CHAPTER XI Medlow Bath. — Jenolan Caves. — Giant skeleton. – Mrs. Foster Turner's mediumship.-A wonderful prophecy.- Final results.—Third sitting with Bailey.-Failure of State Control.-Retrospection.—Melbourne presentation. -Crooks. — Lecture at Perth. - West Australia. — Rabbits, sparrows and sharks. We recuperated after our Brisbane tour by spending the next week at Medlow Bath, that little earthly paradise, which is the most restful spot we have found in our wanderings. It was built originally by Mr. Mark Foy, a successful draper of Sydney, and he is certainly a man of taste, for he has adorned it with a collection of prints and of paintings—hundreds of each—which would attract attention in any city, but which on a mountain top amid the wildest scenery give one the idea of an Arabian Nights palace. There was a passage some hundreds of yards long, which one has to traverse on the way to each meal, and there was a certain series of French prints, representing events of Byzantine history, which I found it difficult to pass, so that I was often a late comer. A very fair library is among the other attractions of this remarkable place. Before leaving we spent one long day at the famous Jenolan Caves, which are distant about forty-five miles. As the said miles are very up-and-down, and as the cave exploration involves several hours of climbing, [242] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST it makes a fairly hard day's work. We started all seven in a motor, as depicted by the wayside photog- raphers, but Baby got sick and had to be left with Jakeman at the halfway house, where we picked her up, quite recovered, on our return. It was as well, for the walk would have been quite beyond her, and yet having once started there is no return, so we should have ended by carrying her through all the subterranean labyrinths. The road is a remarkably good one, and represents a considerable engineering feat. It passes at last through an enormous archway of rock which marks the entrance to the cave forma- tions. These caves are hollowed out of what was once a coral reef in a tropical sea, but is now sixty miles inland with a mountain upon the top of it such changes this old world has seen. If the world were formed only that man might play his drama upon it, then mankind must be in the very earliest days of his history, for who would build so elaborate a stage if the play were to be so short and insignificant? The caves are truly prodigious. They were dis- covered first in the pursuit of some poor devil of a bushranger who must have been hard put to it before he took up his residence in this damp and dreary retreat. A brave man, Wilson, did most of the actual exploring, lowering himself by a thin rope into noisome abysses of unknown depth and charting out the whole of this devil's warren. It is so vast that many weeks would be needed to go through it, and it is usual at one visit to take only a single sample. On this occasion it was the River Cave, so named because after many wanderings you come on a river about twenty feet [243] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST down to the smaller modern one, the wombat, which was an animal as big as a tapir, is now as small as a badger, the great saurians have become little lizards, and so it would seem not unreasonable to suppose that man may have run to great size at some un- explored period in his evolution. We all emerged rather exhausted from the bowels of the earth, dazed with the endless succession of strange gypsum formations which we had seen, minarets, thrones, shawls, coronets, some of them so made that one could imagine that the old kobolds had employed their leisure hours in fashioning their freak- ish outlines. It was a memorable drive home in the evening. Once as a bird flew above my head, the slanting ray of the declining sun struck it and turned it suddenly to a vivid scarlet and green. It was the first of many parrots. Once also a couple of kangaroos bounded across the road, amid wild cries of delight from the children. Once, too, a long snake writhed across and was caught by one of the wheels of the motor. Rabbits, I am sorry to say, abounded. If they would confine themselves to these primeval woods, Australia would be content. This was the last of our pleasant Australian excursions, and we left Medlow Bath refreshed not only by its charming atmosphere, but by feeling that we had gained new friends. We made our way on January 26th to Sydney, where all business had to be settled up and preparations made for our home- ward voyage. Whilst in Sydney I had an opportunity of examining several phases of mediumship which will be of interest [245] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST though there is not at present a whisper of a great European war at hand, yet I want to warn you that before this year, 1914, has run its course, Europe will be deluged in blood. Great Britain, our beloved nation, will be drawn into the most awful war the world has ever known. Germany will be the great antagonist, and will draw other nations in her train. Austria will totter to its ruin. Kings and kingdoms will fall. Millions of precious lives will be slaughtered, but Britain will finally triumph and emerge victorious. During the year, also, the Pope of Rome will pass away, and a bomb will be placed in St. Paul's Church, but will be discovered in time and removed before damage is done." Can any prophecy be more accurate or better authenticated than that. The only equally exact prophecy on public events which I can recall is when Emma Hardinge Britten, having been refused permis- sion in 1860 to deliver a lecture on Spiritualism in the Town Hall of Atlanta, declared that, before many years had passed, that very Town Hall would be choked up with the dead and the dying, drawn from the State which persecuted her. This came literally true in the Civil War a few years later, when Sherman's army passed that way. Mrs. Foster Turner's gift of psychometry is one which will be freely used by the community when we become more civilised and less ignorant. As an example of how it works, some years ago a Melbourne man named Cutler disappeared, and there was a con- siderable debate as to his fate. His wife, without giving a name, brought Cutler's boot to Mrs. Turner. [247] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST in each, or 50,000 people in all. I read aloud a letter from Mr. Carlyle Smythe, who, with his father, had managed the tours of every lecturer of repute who had come to Australia during the past thirty years. Mr. Smythe knew what success and failure were, and he said: "For an equal number of lectures, yours has proved the most prosperous tour in my experience. No previous tour has won such consistent success. From the push-off at Adelaide to the great boom in New Zealand and Brisbane, it has been a great dynamic progression of enthusiasm. I have known in my career nothing parallel to it.” The enemies of our cause were longing for my failure, and had, indeed, in some cases most un- scrupulously announced it, so it was necessary that I should give precise details as to this great success, and to the proof which it afforded that the public mind was open to the new revelation. But, after all, the money test was the acid one. I had taken a party of seven people at a time when all expenses were doubled or trebled by the unnatural costs of travel and of living, which could not be made up for by increasing the price of admission. It would seem a miracle that I could clear this great bill of expenses in a country like Australia, where the large towns are few. And yet I was able to show that I had not only done so, after paying large sums in taxation, but that I actually had seven hundred pounds over. This I divided among Spiritual funds in Australia, the bulk of it, five hundred pounds, being devoted to a guarantee of expenses for the next lecturer who should follow me. It seemed to me that such a [250] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST lecturer, if well chosen, and properly guaranteed against loss, might devote a longer time than I, and visit the smaller towns, from which I had often the most touching appeals. If he were successful, he need not touch the guarantee fund, and so it would remain as a perpetual source of active propaganda. Such was the scheme which I outlined that night, and which was eventually adopted by the Spiritualists of both Australia and New Zealand. On my last evening at Sydney, I attended a third séance with Charles Bailey, the apport medium. It was not under test conditions, so that it can claim no strict scientific value, and yet the results are worth recording. It had struck me that a critic might claim that there was phosphorescent matter inside the spectacle case, which seemed to be the only object which Bailey took inside the cabinet, so I insisted on examin- ing it, but found it quite innocent. The usual incon- clusive shadowy appearance of luminous vapour was evident almost at once, but never, so far as I could judge, out of reach of the cabinet, which was simply a blanket drawn across the corner of the room. The Hindoo control then announced that an apport would be brought, and asked that water be placed in a tin basin. He (that is, Bailey himself, under alleged control) then emerged, the lights being half up, carry- ing the basin over his head. On putting it down, we all saw two strange little young tortoises swimming about in it. I say “strange,” because I have seen none like them. They were about the size of a half-crown, and the head, instead of being close to the shell, was at the end of a thin neck half as long as the body. gricole 25 [251] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST There were a dozen Australians present, and they all said they had never seen any similar ones. The control claimed that he had just brought them from a tank in Benares. The basin was left on the table, and while the lights were down, the creatures disappeared. It is only fair to say that they could have been removed by hand in the dark, but on examining the table, I was unable to see any of those sloppings of water which might be expected to follow such an operation. Shortly afterwards there was a great crash in the dark, and a number of coins fell onto the table, and were handed to me by the presiding control as a parting present. They did not, I fear, help me much with my hotel bill, for they were fifty-six Turkish copper pennies, taken "from a well,” according to our in- formant. These two apports were all the phenomena, and the medium, who has been working very hard of late, showed every sign of physical collapse at the close. Apart from the actual production in the séance room, which may be disputed, I should like to confront the honest sceptic with the extraordinary nature of the objects which Bailey produces on these occasions. They cannot be disputed, for hundreds have handled them, collections of them have been photographed, there are cases full at the Stanford University at California, and I am bringing a few samples back to England with me. If the whole transaction is normal, then where does he get them? I had an Indian nest. Does anyone import Indian nests? Does anyone import queer little tortoises with long, thin necks? Is there a depot for Turkish copper coins in Australia? On the previous sitting, he got 100 Chinese ones. Those [252] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST might be explained, since the Chinaman is not un- common in Sydney, but surely he exports coins, rather than imports them. Then what about 100 Babylonian tablets, with legible inscriptions in Assyrian, some of them cylindrical, with long histories upon them? Granting that they are Jewish forgeries, how do they get into the country? Bailey's house was searched once by the police, but nothing was found. Arabic papers, Chinese schoolbooks, mandarins' buttons, tropical birds -all sorts of odd things arrive. If they are not genu- ine, where do they come from? The matter is venti- lated in papers, and no one comes forward to damn Bailey for ever by proving that he supplied them. It is ng use passing the question by. It calls for an answer. If these articles can be got in any normal way, then what is the way? If not, then Bailey has been a most ill-used man, and miracles are of daily occurrence in Australia. This man should be under the strict, but patient and sympathetic, control of the greatest scientific observers in the world, instead of being al- lowed to wear himself out by promiscuous séances, given in order to earn a living. Imagine our scientists expending themselves in the examination of shells, or the classification of worms, when such a subject as this awaits them. And it cannot await them long. The man dies, and then where are these experiments ? But if such scientific investigation be made, it must be thorough and prolonged, directed by those who have real experience of occult matters, otherwise it will wreck itself upon some theological or other snag, did Colonel de Rochas' attempt at Grenoble. The longer one remains in Australia, the more one 19 [253] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST it is only under exceptional conditions, and with very rigorous and high-principled direction, that the State control of industries can be carried out. I cannot see that it is a political question, or that the democracy has any interest, save to have the public work done as well and as economically as possible. When the capitalist has a monopoly, and is exacting an undue return, it is another matter. As I look back at Australia my prayers—if deep good wishes form a prayer-go out to it. Save for that great vacuum upon the north, which a wise Government would strive hard to fill, I see no other external danger which can threaten her people. But internally I am shadowed by the feeling that trouble may be hanging over them, though I am assured that the cool stability of their race will at last pull them through it. There are some dangerous factors there which make their position more precarious than our own, and behind a surface of civilisation there lie possible forces which might make for disruption. As a people they are rather less disciplined than a European nation. There is no large middle or leisured class who would represent moderation. Labour has tried a Labour Government, and finding that politics will not really alter economic facts is now seeking some fresh solution. The land is held in many cases by large proprietors who work great tracts with few hands, so there is not the conservative element which makes the strength of the United States with its six million farmers, each with his stake in the land. Above all, there is no standing military force, and nothing but a small, though very efficient, police force to stand [255] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST between organised government and some wild attempt of the extremists. There are plenty of soldiers, it is true, and they have been treated with extreme generosity by the State, but they have been reabsorbed into the civil population. If they stand for law and order then all is well. On the other hand, there are the Irish, who are fairly numerous, well organised and disaffected. There is no Imperial question, so far as I can see, save with the Irish, but there is this disquieting internal situation which, with the com- ing drop of wages, may suddenly become acute. An Australian should be a sober-minded man for he has his difficulties before him. We of the old country should never forget that these difficulties have been partly caused by his splendid participation in the great war, and so strain every nerve to help, both by an enlightened sympathy and by such material means as are possible. Personally, I have every sympathy with all reason- able and practical efforts to uphold the standard of living in the working classes. At present there is an almost universal opinion among thoughtful and patriotic Australians that the progress of the country is woefully hampered by the constant strikes, which are declared in defiance of all agreements and all arbitration courts. The existence of Labour Govern- ments, or the State control of industries, does not seem to alleviate these evil conditions, but may rather increase them, for in some cases such pressure has been put upon the Government that they have been forced to subsidise the strikers-or at least those sufferers who have come out in sympathy with the [256] OUR PARTY EN ROUTE TO THE JENOLAN CAVES, JANUARY 20TH, 1921, IN FRONT OF OLD COURT HOUSE IN WHICH BUSHRANGERS WERE TRIED. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST £100 to Mr. Britton Harvey to assist his admirable paper, The Harbinger of Light. I had already ex- pended about £100 upon spiritual causes, so that my whole balance came to £700, which is all now invested in the Cause and should bring some good spiritual in- terest in time to come. We badly need money in order to be able to lay our case more fully before the world. I have already given the written evidence of Mr. Smythe that my tour was the most successful ever conducted in his time in Australia. To this I may add the financial result recorded above. In view of this it is worth recording that Life, a paper entirely under clerical management, said: “The one thing clear is that Sir Conan Doyle's mission to Australia was a mournful and complete failure, and it has left him in a very exasperated state of mind.” This is typical of the perverse and unscrupulous opposition which we have continually to face, which hesitates at no lie in order to try and discredit the movement. One small incident broke the monotony of the voyage between Adelaide and Fremantle, across the dreaded Bight. There have been considerable depredations in the coastal passenger trade of Australia, and since the State boats were all laid up by the strike it was to be expected that the crooks would appear upon the big liners. A band of them came on board the Naldera at Adelaide, but their methods were crude, and they were up against a discipline and an organisation against which they were helpless. One ruffian entered a number of cabins and got away with some booty, but was very gallantly arrested by Captain Lewellin him- [259] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST self, after a short hand-to-hand struggle. This fellow was recognised by the detectives at Fremantle and was pronounced to be an old hand. In the general vigilance and search for accomplices which followed, another passenger was judged to be suspicious and he was also carried away by the detectives on a charge of previous forgery. Altogether the crooks came out very badly in their encounter with the Maldera, whose officers deserve some special recognition from the Company for the able way in which the matter was handled. Although my formal tour was now over, I had quite determined to speak at Perth if it were humanly pos- sible, for I could not consider my work as complete if the capital of one State had been untouched. I therefore sent the message ahead that I would fit in with any arrangements which they might make, be it by day or night, but that the ship would only be in port for a few hours. As matters turned out the Naldera arrived in the early morning and was an- nounced to sail again at 3 p.m., so that the hours were awkward. They took the great theatre, however, for I p.m., which alarmed me as I reflected that my audience must either be starving or else in a state of repletion. Everything went splendidly, however. The house was full, and I have never had a more delight- fully keen set of people in front of me. Of all my experiences there was none which was more entirely and completely satisfactory, and I hope that it brought a very substantial sum into the local spiritual treasury. There was quite a scene in the street afterwards, and the motor could not start for the crowds who sur- [260] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST 12 rounded it and stretched their kind hands and eager faces towards us. It was a wonderful last impres- sion to bear away from Australia. It is worth recording that upon a clairvoyante being asked upon this occasion whether she saw any one beside me on the platform she at once answered "an elderly man with very tufted eyebrows." This was the marked characteristic of the face of Russell Wallace. I was told before I left England that Wal- lace was my guide. I have already shown that Mrs. Roberts, of Dunedin, gave me a message direct from him to the same effect. Mrs. Foster Turner, in Sydney, said she saw him, described him and gave the name. Three others have described him. Each of these has been quite independent of the others. I think that the most sceptical person must admit that the evidence is rather strong. It is naturally more strong to me since I am personally conscious of his intervention and assistance. Apart from my spiritual mission, I was very sorry that I could not devote some time to exploring West Australia, which is in some ways the most interesting, as it is the least developed, of the States in the Federa- tion. One or two points which I gathered about it are worth recording, especially its relation to the rabbits and to the sparrows, the only hostile invaders which it has known. Long may they remain so! The battle between the West Australians and the rabbits was historical and wonderful. After the creatures had become a perfect pest in the East it was hoped that the great central desert would prevent them from ever reaching the West. There was no water Oz' THIS [261] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST for a thousand miles. None the less, the rabbits got across. It was a notable day when the West Austra- lian outrider, loping from west to east, met the pioneer rabbit loping from east to west. Then West Australia made a great effort. She built a rabbit-proof wire screen from north to south for hundreds of miles from sea to sea, with such thoroughness that the northern end projected over a rock which fringed deep water. With such thoroughness, too, did the rabbits recon- noitre this obstacle that their droppings were seen upon the far side of that very rock. There came another day of doom when two rabbits were seen on the wrong side of the wire. Two dragons of the slime would not have alarmed the farmer more. A second line was built, but this also was, as I understand, carried by the attack, which is now consolidating, upon the ground it has won. However, the whole situation has been changed by the discovery elsewhere that the rabbit can be made a paying proposition, so all may end well in this curious story. A similar fight, with more success, has been made by West Australia against the sparrow, which has proved an unmitigated nuisance elsewhere. The birds are slowly advancing down the line of the Continental Railway and their forward scouts are continually cut off. Captain White, the distinguished orni- thologist, has the matter in hand, and received, as I am told, a wire a few weeks ago, he being in Melbourne, to the effect that two sparrows had been observed a thousand miles west of where they had any rights. He set off, or sent off, instantly to this way-side desert station in the hope of destroying them, with what [262] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ros pe care Front luck I know not. I should be inclined to back the sparrows. This Captain White is a man of energy and brains, whose name comes up always when one enquires into any question of bird or beast. He has made a re- markable expedition lately to those lonely Everard Ranges, which lie some distance to the north of the desolate Nularbor Plain, through which the Con- tinental Railway passes. It must form one of the most dreadful wastes in the world, for there are a thousand miles of coast line, without one single stream emerging. Afforestation may alter all that. In the Everard Ranges Captain White found untouched sav- ages of the stone age, who had never seen a white man before, and who treated him with absolute courtesy and hospitality. They were a fine race physically, though they lived under such conditions that there was little solid food save slugs, lizards and the like. One can but pray that the Australian Government will take steps to save these poor people from the sad fate which usually follows the contact between the higher and the lower. From what I heard, West Australian immigrants are better looked after than in the other States. I was told in Perth that nine hundred ex-service men with their families had arrived, and that all had been fitted into places, permanent or temporary, within a fortnight. This is not due to Government, but to the exertions of a peculiar local Society, with the strange title of “The Ugly Men.” “Handsome is as handsome does,” and they seem to be great citizens. West Australia calls itself the Cinderella State, for, although it covers mambo that I, Chapter ST BE [263] CHAPTER XII Pleasing letters. Visit to Candy.-Snake and Flying Fox.- Buddha's shrine.—The Malaya.--Naval digression.- Indian trader.-Elephanta.-Sea snakes.-Chained to a tombstone.-Berlin's escape.-Lord Chetwynd.-Lecture in the Red Sea.-Marseilles. It was on Friday, February 11th, that we drew away from the Fremantle wharf, and started forth upon our long, lonely trek for Colombo-a huge stretch of sea, in which it is unusual to see a single sail. As night fell I saw the last twinkling lights of Australia fade away upon our starboard quarter. Well, my job is done. I have nothing to add, nor have I said any- thing which I would wish withdrawn. My furrow gapes across two young Continents. I feel, deep in my soul, that the seed will fall in due season, and that the reaping will follow the seed. Only the work con- cerns ourselves—the results lie with those whose instruments we are. Of the many kindly letters which bade us farewell, and which assured us that our work was not in vain, none was more eloquent and thoughtful than that of Mr. Thomas Ryan, a member of the Federal Legis- lature. “Long after you leave us your message will linger. This great truth, which we had long thought of as the plaything of the charlatan and crank, into this you breathed the breath of life, and, as of old, we were forced to say, 'We shall think of this again. [265] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST We shall examine it more fully.' Give us time—for the present only this, we are sure that this thing was not done in a corner. Let me say in the few moments I am able to snatch from an over-crowded life, that we realise throughout the land how deep and far- reaching were the things of which you spoke to us. We want time, and even more time, to make them part of ourselves. We are glad you have come and raised our thoughts from the market place to the altar." Bishop Leadbeater, of Sydney, one of the most venerable and picturesque figures whom I met in my travels, wrote, "Now that you are leaving our shores, let me express my conviction that your visit has done great good in stirring up the thought of the people, and, I hope, in conyincing many of them of the reality of the other life.” Among very many other letters there was none I valued more than one from the Rev. Jasper Calder, of Auckland. "Rest assured, Sir Arthur, the plough has gone deep, and the daylight will now reach the soil that has so long been in the darkness of ignorance. I somehow feel as if this is the beginning of new things for us all.” It is a long and weary stretch from Australia to Ceylon, but it was saved from absolute monotony by the weather, which was unusually boisterous for so genial a region. Two days before crossing the line we ran into a north-western monsoon, a rather rare experience, so that the doldrums became quite a lively place. Even our high decks were wet with spindrift and the edge of an occasional comber, and some of the cabins were washed out. A smaller ship would [266] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST have been taking heavy seas. In all that great stretch of ocean we never saw a sail or a fish, and very few birds. The loneliness of the surface of the sea is surely a very strange fact in nature. One would imagine, if the sea is really so populous as we imagine, that the surface, which is the only fixed point in very deep water, would be the gathering ground and trysting place for all life. Save for the flying fish, there was not a trace in all those thousands of miles. I suppose that on such a voyage one should rest and do nothing, but how difficult it is to do nothing, and can it be restful to do what is difficult? To me it is almost impossible. I was helped through a weary time by many charming companions on board, particularly the Rev. Henry Howard, reputed to be the best preacher in Australia. Some of his sermons which I read are, indeed, splendid, depending for their effect upon real thought and knowledge, without any theological emotion. He is ignorant of psychic philosophy, though, like so many men who profess themselves hostile to Spiritualism, he is full of good stories which conclusively prove the very thing he denies. However, he has reached full spirituality, which is more important than Spiritualism, and he must be a great influence for good wherever he goes. The rest he will earn later, either upon this side, or the other. At Colombo I was interested to receive a West- minster Gazette, which contained an article by their special commissioner upon the Yorkshire fairies. Some correspondent has given the full name of the people concerned, with their address, which means that [267] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST their little village will be crammed with chars-à-banc, and the peace of their life ruined. It was a rotten thing to do. For the rest, the Westminster inquiries seem to have confirmed Gardner and me in every particular, and brought out the further fact that the girls had never before taken a photo in their life. One of them had, it seems, been for a short time in the employ of a photographer, but as she was only a child, and her duties consisted in running on errands, the fact would hardly qualify her, as Truth suggests, for making faked negatives which could deceive the greatest ex- perts in London. There may be some loophole in the direction of thought forms, but otherwise the case is as complete as possible. We have just returned from a dream journey to Candy. The old capital is in the very centre of the island, and seventy-two miles from Colombo, but, find- ing that we had one clear night, we all crammed our- selves (my wife, the children and self) into a motor car, and made for it, while Major Wood and Jakeman did the same by train. It was a wonderful experience, a hundred and forty miles of the most lovely coloured cinema reel that God ever released. I carry away the confused but beautiful impression of a good broad red- tinted road, winding amid all shades of green, from the dark foliage of overhanging trees, to the light stretches of the half-grown rice fields. Tea groves, rubber plantations, banana gardens, and everywhere the coconut palms, with their graceful, drooping fronds. Along this great road streamed the people, and their houses lined the way, so that it was seldom that one was out of sight of human life. They were of [268] WE DENDS WITH A BLACK SNAKE AT MEDLOW BATH. THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST Island of Perim, has become one of the legends of the sea. In those days, the discipline aboard P. & O. ships was less firm than at present, and on the occasion of the birthday of one of the leading passengers, the officers of the ship had been invited to the festivity. The result was that, in the middle of dinner, the ship crashed, no great distance from the lighthouse, and, it is said, though this is probably an exaggeration, that the revellers were able to get ashore over the bows without wetting their dress shoes. No harm was done, save that one unlucky rock projected, like a huge spike, through the ship's bottom, and it cost the company a good half-million before they were able to get her afloat and in service once more. However, there she was, doing her fifteen knots, and looking so saucy and new that no one would credit such an unsavoury inci- dent in her past. Early in February I gave a lantern lecture upon psychic phenomena to passengers of both classes. The Red Sea has become quite a favourite stamping ground of mine, but it is much more tolerable now than on that terrible night in August when I discharged argu- ments and perspiration to a sweltering audience. On this occasion it was a wonderful gathering, à mi- crocosm of the world, with an English peer, an Indian maharajah, many native gentlemen, whites of every type from four great countries, and a fringe of stew- ards, stewardesses, and nondescripts of all sorts, including the ship's barber, who is one of the most active men on the ship in an intellectual sense. All went well, and if they were not convinced they were deeply interested, which is the first stage. Some- [279) THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST where there are great forces which are going to carry on this work, and I never address an audience without the feeling that among them there may be some latent Paul or Luther whom my words may call into activity. I heard an anecdote yesterday which is worth re- cording. We have a boatswain who is a fine, burly specimen of a British seaman. In one of his short holidays while in mufti, in Norfolk, he had an argu- ment with a Norfolk farmer, a stranger to him, who wound up the discussion by saying: “My lad, what you need is a little travel to broaden your mind." The boatswain does his 70,000 miles a year. It reminded me of the doctor who advised his patient to take a brisk walk every morning before breakfast, and then found out that he was talking to the village postman. A gentleman connected with the cinema trade told me a curious story within his own experience. Last year a psychic cinema story was shown in Australia, and to advertise it a man was hired who would consent to be chained to a tombstone all night. This was done in Melbourne and Sydney without the person con- cerned suffering in any way. It was very different in Launceston. The man was found to be nearly mad from terror in the morning, though he was a stout fellow of the dock labourer type. His story was that in the middle of the night he had heard to his horror the sound of dripping water approaching him. On looking up he saw an evil-looking shape with water streaming from him, who stood before him and abused him a long time, frightening him almost to death. The man was so shaken that the cinema company had [280] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ently th and smile there was room for four more at this table on the side- walk, so presently that number of negro privates came along and occupied the vacant seats. The officers smiled most good humouredly, and remarks were ex- changed between the two parties, which ended in the high falsetto laugh of a negro. These black troops seemed perfectly self-respecting, and I never saw a drunken man, soldier or civilian, during two days. I have received English letters which announce that I am to repeat my Australian lectures at the Queen's Hall, from April 11th onwards. I seem to be return- ing with shotted guns and going straight into action. They say that the most dangerous course is to switch suddenly off when you have been working hard. I am little likely to suffer from that. control ero tantes e mbetet ? 1 Pero Inte scarlo Credit [285] CHAPTER XIII The Institut Metaphysique. Lecture in French.-Wonderful musical improviser. - Camille Flammarion. — Test of materialised hand.-Last ditch of materialism.-Sitting with Mrs. Bisson's medium, Eva.-Round the Aisne battlefields.-A tragic intermezzo.-Anglo-French Rugby match.—Madame Blifaud's clairvoyance. ONE long stride took us to Paris, where, under the friendly and comfortable roof of the Hôtel du Louvre, we were able at last to unpack our trunks and to steady down after this incessant movement. The first visit which I paid in Paris was to Dr. Geley, head of the Institut Metaphysique, at 89, Avenue Niel. Now that poor Crawford has gone, leaving an imperishable name behind him, Geley promises to be the greatest male practical psychic researcher, and he has advan- tages of which Crawford could never boast, since the liberality of Monsieur Jean Meyer has placed him at the head of a splendid establishment with laboratory, photographic room, lecture room, séance room and library, all done in the most splendid style. Unless some British patron has the generosity and intelligence to do the same, this installation, with a man like Geley to run it, will take the supremacy in psychic advance from Britain, where it now lies, and transfer it to France. Our nearest approach to something similar depends at present upon the splendid private efforts of Mr. and Mrs. Hewat MacKenzie, in the Psy- [286] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST the various types. Certainly, as described by her, their far-fetched precautions, which irritate the me- dium and ruin the harmony of the conditions, do appear very ridiculous, and the parrot cry of “Fraud !" and “Fake!” has been sadly overdone. All are agreed here that spiritualism has a far greater chance in England than in France, because the French tempera- ment is essentially a mocking one, and also because the Catholic Church is in absolute opposition. Three of their bishops, Beauvais, Lisieux and Coutances, helped to burn a great medium, Joan of Arc, six hun- dred years ago, asserting at the trial the very accusa- tions of necromancy which are asserted to-day. Now they have had to canonise her. One would have hoped that they had learned something from the incident. Dr. Geley has recently been experimenting with Mr. Franek Kluski, a Polish amateur of weak health, but with great mediumistic powers. These took the form of materialisations. Dr. Geley had prepared a bucket of warm paraffin, and upon the appearance of the materialised figure, which was that of a smallish man, the request was made that the apparition should plunge its hand into the bucket and then withdraw it, so that when it dematerialised a cast of the hand would be left, like a glove of solidified paraffin, so narrow at the wrist that the hands could not have been with- drawn by any possible normal means without breaking the moulds. These hands I was able to inspect, and also the plaster cast which had been taken from the inside of one of them. The latter showed a small hand, not larger than a boy's, but presenting the char- acteristics of age, for the skin was loose and formed [289] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST transverse folds. The materialised figure had also, un- asked, left an impression of its own mouth and chin, which was, I think, done for evidential purposes, for a curious wart hung from the lower lip, which would mark the owner among a million. So far as I could learn, however, no identification had actually been effected. The mouth itself was thick-lipped and coarse, and also gave an impression of age. To show the thoroughness of Dr. Geley's work, he had foreseen that the only answer which any critic, however exacting, could make to the evidence, was that the paraffin hand had been brought in the medium's pocket. Therefore he had treated with cholesterin the paraffin in his bucket, and this same cholesterin reap peared in the resulting glove. What can any sceptic have to say to an experiment like that save to ignore it, and drag us back with wearisome iteration to some real or imaginary scandal of the past? The fact is that the position of the Materialists could only be sus- tained so long as there was a general agreement among all the newspapers to regard this subject as a comic proposition. Now that there is a growing tendency towards recognising its overwhelming gravity, the evi- dence is getting slowly across to the public, and the old attitude of negation and derision has become puerile. I can clearly see, however, that the Materialists will fall back upon their second line of trenches, which will be to admit the phenomena, but to put them down to material causes in the unexplored realms of nature with no real connection with human survival. This change of front is now due, but it will fare no better than the old one. Before quitting the subject I should [290] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST It was for this reason that the word Miroir appeared in one of the photographs, and excited much adverse criticism. One dimly sees a new explanation of me- diumship. The light seems a colourless thing until it passes through a prism and suddenly reveals every colour in the world. A picture of Madame Bisson's father hung upon the wall, and I at once recognised him as the phantom which appears in the photographs of her famous book, and which formed the culminating point of Eva's mediumship. He has a long and rather striking face which was clearly indicated in the ectoplasmic image. Only on one occasion was this image so developed that it could speak, and then only one word. The word was "Esperez.” We have just returned, my wife, Denis and I, from a round of the Aisne battlefields, paying our respects incidentally to Bossuet at Meaux, Fenelon at Château Thierry, and Racine at La Ferté Millon. It is indeed a frightful cicatrix which lies across the brow of France-a scar which still gapes in many places as an open wound. I could not have believed that the ruins were still so untouched. The land is mostly under cultivation, but the houses are mere shells, and I cannot think where the cultivators live. When you drive for sixty miles and see nothing but ruin on either side of the road, and when you know that the same thing extends from the sea to the Alps, and that in places it is thirty miles broad, it helps one to realise the debt that Germany owes to her victims. If it had been in the Versailles terms that all her members of parliament and journalists should be personally con- [293] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST ducted, as we have been, through a sample section, their tone would be more reasonable. It has been a wonderful panorama. We followed the route of the thousand taxi-cabs which helped to save Europe up to the place where Gallieni's men dis- mounted and walked straight up against Klück's rear- guard. We saw Belleau Wood, where the 2nd and 46th American divisions made their fine début and showed Ludendorff that they were not the useless sol- diers he had so vainly imagined. Thence we passed all round that great heavy sack of Germans which had formed in June, 1918, with its tip at Dormans and Château Thierry. We noted Bligny, sacred to the sacrifices of Carter Campbell's 51st Highlanders, and Braithwaite's 62nd Yorkshire division, who lost be- tween them seven thousand men in these woods. These British episodes seem quite unknown to the French, while the Americans have very properly laid out fine graveyards with their flag flying, and placed engraved tablets of granite where they played their part, so that in time I really think that the average Frenchman will hardly remember that we were in the war at all, while if you were to tell him that in the critical year we took about as many prisoners and guns as all the other nations put together, he would stare at you with amaze- ment. Well, what matter! With a man or a nation it is the duty done for its own sake and the sake of its own conscience and self-respect that really counts. All the rest is swank. We slept at Rheims. We had stayed at the chief hotel, the Golden Lion, in 1912, when we were en route to take part in the Anglo-German motor-car [294] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST competition, organised by Prince Henry. We searched round, but not one stone of the hotel was standing. Out of 14,000 houses in the town, only twenty had entirely escaped. As to the Cathedral, either a miracle has been wrought or the German gunners have been extraordinary masters of their craft, for there are acres of absolute ruin up to its very walls, and yet it stands erect with no very vital damage. The same applies to the venerable church of St. Remy. On the whole I am prepared to think that save in one fit of temper, upon September 19th, 1914, the guns were never purposely turned upon this venerable building. Hitting the proverbial haystack would be a difficult feat compared to getting home on to this monstrous pile which dominates the town. It is against reason to suppose that both here and at Soissons they could not have left the cathedrals as they left the buildings around them. Next day, we passed down the Vesle and Aisne, see- ing the spot where French fought his brave but barren action on September 13th, 1914, and finally we reached the Chemin des Dames—a good name had the war been fought in the knightly spirit of old, but horribly out of place amid the ferocities with which Germany took all chivalry from warfare. The huge barren coun- tryside, swept with rainstorms and curtained in clouds, looked like some evil landscape out of Vale Owen's revelations. It was sown from end to end with shat- tered trenches, huge coils of wire and rusted weapons, including thousands of bombs which are still capable of exploding should you tread upon them too heavily. Denis ran wildly about, like a terrier in a barn, and [295] THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST long voyages, the freedom from all accidents, the un- disturbed and entirely successful series of lectures, the financial success won for the cause, the double escape from shipping strikes, and, finally, the several inex- plicable instances of supernormal, personal happenings, together with the three-fold revelation of the name of our immediate guide, we should be stocks and stones if we did not realise that we have been the direct instruments of God in a cause upon which He has set His visible seal. There let it rest. If He be with us, who is against us? To give religion a foundation of rock instead of quicksand, to remove the legitimate doubts of earnest minds, to make the invisible forces, with their moral sanctions, a real thing, instead of mere words upon our lips, and, incidentally, to reas- sure the human race as to the future which awaits it, and to broaden its appreciation of the possibilities of the present life, surely no more glorious message was ever heralded to mankind. And it begins visibly to. hearken. The human race is on the very eve of a tre- mendous revolution of thought, marking a final revul- sion from materialism, and it is part of our glorious and assured philosophy, that, though we may not be here to see the final triumph of our labours, we shall, none the less, be as much engaged in the struggle and the victory from the day when we join those who are our comrades in battle upon the further side. THE END [299] དཔལ དཔ ། ལ་ ༌ ༌ - བ ས ས ག པ ཆ ཝཱས་ ས་འོད%3 ཨུད ནམ་མཚོ་དམར་སྐྱོན་གང༌ངམ་ག, ནི ་ ཏུ། མr པརན་ཙནང ཝཱགམ།