screeching coolies from a noisy crane into his body, with a final crash as though a ton of machinery had been dropped on to his bowels. He was, however, none the worse for the experience, and found he could recall every detail with a sense of reality which removed it from the vague memory of a dream. "If the whole world united in telling me it was a dream," he says, "I would remain unconvinced." The reality of his extended travel was confirmed later by the description he was able to give of his friend's house in Hastings, which he had never visited in the flesh. Very few of the other accepted signs were missing from this first Etheric journey. The flickering of consciousness, the exhilaration, the sharp sense of reality, the undimmed recollection, the vaporous luminosity, the tape of light, even the reflection in the mirror (a not intrinsic feature) proclaim its completeness, especially for a first excursion. "Since then," writes Mr. Gerhardi, in a letter to Sylvan Muldoon, "I have had four other projections. On one of them I actually visited a friend at Hastings, and obtained irrefutable proof of having been in his room. On another I visited relations of a friend living at Tunbridge Wells, and described them to her accurately without my ever having seen them before. On a third I passed right through a man walking on a lonely road at night. I have not so far met a ghost." That last paragraph is surprising, since in a concluding chapter of Resurrection he described another astral adventure in which he met the spirit of a friend who had just succumbed to an operation, how he had talked with him, and how together they had looked down on his friend's dead body on the bed. In Lean Brown Men, Michael Burt tells the story of a