My Library

discomfort, and I find myself going down a long dim tunnel which is warm and, as it were, moss-hned. At the far end is a tiny speck of light which glows, as I approach, into a large square, and I am 'there*. In nearly every case I can describe the room my friends are in, the clothes they are wearing, the people they are talking to; and on several occasions, when I have been anxious about a friend who lives in London, I have found myself in a strange room among strange people in the country, and there was my friend. Only once have I been seen and spoken to.... I have been tested over and over again when I have arranged (beforehand) to go. One friend put on a new evening gown, another even took the trouble to move her bedroom furniture round, which I at once noticed, and questioned her about it when next we met, to her great amazement... . I have done this at intervals for years... . It seems a pity, if it is a known form of astral communication, that it is not more widely practised." Well, that is as it may be. There are objections to the practice, very grave objections if the procedure should pass into unworthy hands. We are told that on the Other Side there can be no concealment of our inmost thoughts. We may be tuned up by then to endure such interpellation, but, here, few of us would welcome the visit of an inquisitive spirit to our secret chamber. Hermione Okeden's mention of that moss-lined tunnel links up her method with that of many projectionists. One does not know what is its exact significance. Ralph Shirley says: "The symbolical passing through a tunnel will be familiar to many, as indeed it is to myself as a preliminary to the loss of consciousness under anaesthetics"; and another of his correspondents, writing from Wynberg, Cape Colony, has found her way through a somewhat