lead to manor houses. A few miles out the valley branches into three parts, and high on a hill, at the junction of the Arques with its tributaries, stands the famous Château d'Arques, one of the most imposing ruins in France. Here is the spot where Henri IV won the decisive victory over the Ligue which established the Bourbon dynasty on the throne. We climbed from the town of Arques to the castle, and looked inland over three valleys and a great forest. Seaward were the spires and chimneys of Dieppe. But the sea view was shut off by the cliffs, almost as high as our own lookout.

The walk to Arques through the valley of the river takes one to the east of Dieppe. In the other direction, following the coast, through small plages, less than two hours brought us to the Manoir d'Ango, where the merchant prince of Dieppe entertained François I four hundred years ago. Most of the manor house remains, and it is easier here, perhaps than anywhere in Europe to study the modifications in architecture in the generation following the discovery that gun powder could be used to throw huge balls against stone walls. The time had arrived when castles were no longer strongholds. Accepting this fact, Ango and his contemporaries began the building of a new type of home, influenced by the palaces of the Italian Renaissance.

Dieppe has the delightful feature common to Normandy plages of an immediate hinterland rich in historic memories and beautiful walks. You find an agricultural country with woods and valleys and hills, wild flowers and hedges overgrown with honeysuckle along the roads, and frequent vantage points for views of land and sea. The peasant homes are every one of them pictures, with thatched barns and lean-tos, weather-beaten cider presses, set in a semicircular background of orchards. Sudden drops in the river are marked by dams and mills. Avenues of elms and poplars

Our week was nearly up. Two days in the town, two in the country, and a Sunday at the courses, where jumping was the feature, had left little time for the Artist's first suggestion-a study of the English in Dieppe. But we had seen their traces each day in our rambles.

During the Hundred Years' War, we were told, Dieppe had been destroyed seven times by the English, which was given as a reason why no church in the town dates back before the latter half of the fifteenth century. During the wars of religion in the sixteenth century Dieppe suffered further. At the end of the seventeenth century the English fleet stopped off Dieppe for a day and bombarded the town and castle. The ruins on the hill are witness of the carrying power in those early days of English guns. At the end of the eighteenth century a fire, started by the bombardment of another English fleet, swept the town. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, after Trafalgar, Dieppe was blockaded for several years, and lost all her trade to the English. The Germans? Yes, they came in 1870, and occupied the city until Paris surrendered. Although the Germans did not come by land or sea in the recent war, the Dieppois suffered more from the fighting of 1914-18 than from all the centuries that went before. So they think, at least. Recent memories are the most vivid. But it may well be so, for the toll of human life in army and navy and merchant marine was so large and widespread that even now the list of names to go on the new monument of those morts pour la patrie is not yet completed. I was told that Dieppe lost two thousand of her sons. If we cut the figure in half it means more than twenty per cent of her mobilized manhood.

There is feeling against the English (against all foreigners, in fact) in postbellum Dieppe. It is not shown openly. But by those who are thinking that it must be there it is quickly sensed. Englishmen, however, are not in the habit of worrying about what others think of them. They would be surprised to learn that the Dieppois resent the shipping situation, and are bitter over the price of British coal. No Dieppois thinks anything of the centuries of struggle between Norman and Englishman, in which his city suffered so sig

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nally. Traditional animosity does not exist. It is the seemingly hopeless inequality between the people living on the two sides of the English Channel that stirs up the Norman. English and French were allies in a common war, fought for a common cause. After the war, French shipping is in a chaotic state, French money goes to pot, and there is no help from, no mercy shown by, the more fortunate ally and neighbor. I do not sponsor the French attitude. I simply state it. Owing to the nearness of Dieppe to England, the maritime basis of Dieppe's prosperity, and especially her interest in coal at reasonable prices, the Dieppois are exercised over what they believe is a crying injustice.

But they do not show it to the summer people, and, as I have said, the English are not in a habit of bothering about what other people think of them. At home or abroad they have the kind of a time they want to have, which is a good time after their fashion. If they were not having it in Dieppe, nothing is more certain than that they would not be in Dieppe. No English watering place has the natural beauty of Dieppe, and, although the beach is more pebbly than one would choose, the promenade makes up for it. And if there is anything finer than the walk through the Rue de Sygogne, and around the huge cliff at the western end of the plage, I do not know where to find it in Normandy or in England. One passes under the castle and along the road unexpectedly inhabited. Houses? No. There is no place for them. Homes are made by digging into the cliffs, for the most part on two levels. The front yard, fenced in with rope, for children and chickens is upstairs. Below the lobsterman has his place of business, a dugout for his tackle and pots, his baskets and crates, his sails and rope, and a lean-to against the rock for his boat. This example of French ingenuity, just around the corner from the Casino, is not a good object lesson for the Englishman. If he thinks

alism has been evident both in America and Great Britain, a reaction that is comprehensible and, from the point of view of all earnest workers in this field, very welcome. For five years or so spiritualism became a “craze.” The enthusiasts had an abundance of new material of many kinds and used it without discretion. Some of this material was valuable, but much of it was worthless. Moreover, when the demand for wonders increased, wonders were inevitably invented to supply the market. And the invented wonders were often more thrilling than the real. Also, another class of material came to fill the demand. This was neither real nor deliberately invented; it was imagined. Hysterical subjects who had been soaking themselves in the abundant literature of spiritualism, and particularly in that more sensational side of it which was so prominent in the press, began to have visions on their own account, and many of them passed beyond the stage at which they could be content to keep those visions to themselves as a secret solace. The next step for these neuropaths was the well-known stage of the desire for recognition, though how far they actually deceive themselves when they begin to produce their pseudophenomena it is impossible to say. In any case the phenomena were produced, taking, for example, such a shape as the pretended haunting of a house by poltergeists, a peculiarly easy marvel to imitate. Indeed, one such case held the public in thrall for over a fortnight in England in the summer of 1920, being dressed up day by day on the middle pages of most of the important journals.

was soon glutted, and suffered not only from excess of superfluous and spurious material, but also from overadvertisement. For when advertisement oversteps a certain limit it invariably overreaches its object and produces distaste. Finally, another cause for the reaction can be found in the gradual consolation of those who had suffered losses in the war, and who are ceasing to haunt the consulting rooms of mediums in the hope of a message from their dead.

Now, as I have said, this reaction is exceedingly valuable from the point of view of those who are truly interested in the investigation of psychical phenomena. It is valuable for two reasons. The first is that the invented and imagined wonders will cease to be supplied; and many of them were so ingenuous and intriguing that even the specialist was deceived and spent valuable time in exploring them. The second reason is that the "craze" was doing much harm to the cause of spiritualism among thoughtful people. The sensation seekers and the credulous, the members of that majority of the public mainly catered for in the yellow press, were sometimes harmfully affected, and the sufferers have been frequently instanced in the pulpit and in medical and psychological journals as representative of the effects of spiritualism. Furthermore, the ecstacies and posturings of these lighterminded people filled the thoughtful with a disgust for the whole subject. It was almost impossible to dissociate the subject from the futile claims and extravagances of those who so abundantly professed their belief in it. And the result upon the intellectuals was necessarily a

strong swing of the pendulum toward incredulity and contempt.

We may most sincerely hope, therefore, that the "craze" has spent itself, and what we now speak of as a reaction will fade into inanition. For below all this superficial froth of exaggeration and foolishness the real work of investigation has been steadily going on, and the underlying contention that actuates all research of this kind-the contention that the consciousness and personality of the individual survives the death of the body -was never so near scientific proof as it is to-day.

In the May number of Harper's Magazine for 1919 I described the experiments of Schrench-Notsing, Doctor Geley, and Madame Bisson with the medium Marthe Beraud generally generally known as "Mlle. Eva”—and made certain large claims on behalf of the amazing results they had obtained. And I should like now to revert to those claims for a moment, if only to prove that they were neither ill-founded nor exaggerated. Since that article was written Schrenck-Notsing's book has been published; the material has been further confirmed in Doctor Geley's admirable work entitled From the Unconscious to the Conscious; and Marthe Beraud has given sittings to a select committee of the Society for Psychical Research in London, in the course of which sittings, although no new results were obtained, certain of the familiar phenomena were produced under conditions that practically excluded the possibility of fraud. (Incidentally, it is worthy of mention that members of that committee to whom I have spoken were unanimous in their belief in the absolute good faith of Madame Bisson, the real crux in this case. For if, as now seems almost certain, she is entirely to be trusted, the possibility of trickery may be excluded from the whole range of these experiments.)

Lastly, Marthe Beraud has lately been the instrument of new and intensely interesting phenomena, as she has been

able to materialize the perfect body of a tiny, nude woman, which moved with all the material actions of life, was visible to the whole circle, and stood for a few moments on the hand of one of the sitters. This amazing phenomenon was described at some length by Madame Bisson at the Copenhagen Congress last August.

I do not, however, propose to deal further with the evidence afforded by materializations in the present article. Personally, I am now convinced by the abundance and corroborative nature of the experiments that we must accept the possibility of the extension and materialization into visible, tangible, and ponderable form of some as yet unknown matter in the human body. But, while this fact is of the greatest scientific interest and psychical significance, it would not in itself demonstrate the certainty of survival, even though it were acknowledged by the Royal Society. I have referred to it in this place partly because I wish all those thinking people who have recently turned away from the whole subject with some feeling of disgust to realize that the quiet, steady work of research still goes on, adding fact to fact with patience and persistence-and using none of it for sensational purposes in the press. The best evidence for the survival of the personality does not find its way into the newspapers.

And it is further evidence of this sort that is the theme of the present article, evidence which, unlike that for materialization, seems if it be accepted to demonstrate the fundamental contention we have set out to prove. It is, at least, a considerable advance toward that final conclusion which will be possible when a sufficient body of attested facts has been brought together to frame the last incontestable argument.

The chief witness to this new material is the Rev. C. Drayton Thomas, a minister of the Wesleyan Methodist Church, who has received the strange series of "tests" from a spirit claiming to be his father (a Nonconformist divine),