occasion to fribbles
and knaves is no argument against any honest tendency of thought. Men
whom one cannot but esteem are deeply engaged in psychical
investigations, and have convinced themselves that they are brought into
touch with phenomena inexplicable by the commonly accepted laws of life.
Be it so. They may be on the point of making discoveries in the world
beyond sense. For my own part, everything of this kind not only does not
interest me; I turn from it with the strongest distaste. If every wonder-
story examined by the Psychical Society were set before me with
irresistible evidence of its truth, my feeling (call it my prejudice)
would undergo no change whatever. No whit the less should I yawn over
the next batch, and lay the narratives aside with--yes, with a sort of
disgust. "An ounce of civet, good apothecary!" Why it should be so with
me I cannot say. I am as indifferent to the facts or fancies of
spiritualism as I am, for instance, to the latest mechanical application
of electricity. Edisons and Marconis may thrill the world with
astounding novelties; they astound me, as every one else, but straightway
I forget my astonishment, and am in every respect the man I was before.
The thing has simply no concern for me, and I care not a _volt_ if to-
morrow the proclaimed discovery be proved a journalist's mistake or
invention.

Am I, then, a hidebound materialist? If I know myself, hardly that.
Once, in conversation with G. A., I referred to his position as that of
the agnostic. He corrected me. "The agnostic grants that there _may_ be
something beyond the sphere of man's knowledge; I can make no such
admission. For me, what is called the unknowable is simply the
non-existent. We see what is, and we see all." Now this gave me a sort
of shock; it seemed incredible to me that a man of so much intelligence
could hold such a view. So far am I from feeling satisfied with any
explanation, scientific or other, of myself and of the world about me,
that not a day goes