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dence who have been too indolent to examine the evidence already in existence; but any one who reads even a portion of the voluminous reports of the Society, should find as much as the most exacting mind could require.
Some small compendium of the evidence such as is presented in this volume is the more needful as the general Press is so exceedingly ignorant upon the point. The result is that it always approaches each fresh manifestation de novo, as if no such thing had ever been heard of before. For example, Sir Oliver Lodge's “Raymond” has been continually reviewed as if this were some new opinion which he had put forward, instead of being a restatement in his own case of what had already been urged by a thousand before him. The same holds good of particular phenomena. Each new outbreak is criticised with no reference to the last, and no admission of the cumulative weight which successive instances must afford. If, for example, an okapi had only once been shot in Africa, its existence on the evidence of a single sportsman might reasonably be doubted. If ten men agreed that they had shot such a creature, the evidence would be strong. If fifty had done so, it would become convincing. This is common sense. Thus it is with such a phenomenon as a noisy poltergeist, two cases of which are at the present moment under my own observation. Each case, like the recent one at Cheriton, is treated in the Press as an isolated phenomenon. A wider knowledge of the subject would teach the critic that there are very many upon record, some of them most carefully observed, and that all of them agree in certain general characteristics. Thus, as in the case of the okapi, numbers give assurance, and it is not possible to treat as a delusion that for which there are so many witnesses. The overpowering strength of the case for survival is not appreciated because the evidence has not been in a sufficiently readable and condensed form. Such works as this, or as Sir William Barrett's excellent “Threshold of the Unseen,” help to supply the want.
I have alluded, in an earlier paragraph of these notes, to Mr. Arthur Hill's unhappy experience of this life. On a recent visit to Bradford I had an opportunity of calling upon him, and of realising his remarkable personality and the extraordinary conditions under which he produces his work. A strong and athletic young man, he was suddenly reduced to absolute helplessness by a heart-wrench sustained while cycling up a hill, and has now spent many years stretched upon his back in bed with such physical disabilities that he cannot even write as most invalids would write, but has to hold the paper up at an angle with one hand while he writes with the other. That, in these circumstances, he has carried out the course of reading which his tasks necessitate, has done so much laborious investigation, himself taking verbatim shorthand notes, and has been able within a few years to write considerable books, besides being the protagonist in many arguments and correspondences in the Press, is a most remarkable example of human perseverance and adaptability. To those who, like myself, take the gravest possible view of this movement, and regard it as being a fresh-departure in religious thought and experience such as we have not had for two thousand years, it seems more than chance that a man who had such qualifications for the work, but who was engrossed in other things, should have had all else rent so violently from him with the result of concentrating him entirely upon the all-important task. If these few lines of mine are of any use to him, or to the cause which he represents, I shall be proud to think that I have been of assistance.