eration of the question. I
further intimated that although she might consider me a lunatic for my
pains, I trusted there could be nothing to vex or hurt her in so
touching an evidence of her husband's constant care and love, however
little faith she might be disposed to place in the source from which the
message was supposed to emanate.

The answer came as a shower bath on my unfortunate head.

The old lady (?) was furious. She had never heard of such wicked
nonsense! "_Her dear husband was quite the gentleman, both in clothes
and appearance, and he was not old--not a day over sixty-eight--when he
died_," etc. etc.

It would have been amusing if it had not been rather pitiful to think of
the poor "young" man of sixty-eight trying so hard to reach such a
termagant!

Later, I heard that the military man, through whom the old lady's
address had been given to my Wimbledon hostess, had asked the husband of
the latter if I were a lunatic, by any chance!

And this is how some of us welcome our friends from the other side of
the veil! The marvel to me is that Love can still be stronger than
Death, in face of such ingratitude and stupidity!

I have already mentioned my extreme sensitiveness to the atmosphere
(psychic) of rooms, especially rooms where one sleeps. I find another
instance of this in my notes.

I was paying a first visit to a friend in the south of England, and a
very bright, cheerful room had been allotted to me there.

From the first night I felt a strong influence of a man in the room.
Kindly note that I do not say the influence of a _strong_ man; on the
contrary, the character appeared to me that of an essentially weak
man--weak rather than wicked--sensual as well as sensuous--self-indulgent,
and greatly wanting in grit and will power.

My hostess had two sons, one whom I knew, and the other, living abroad,
whom I had never met. The influence I felt was certainly not that of the
son I knew, who was both manly and strong-willed, a fine soldier, and
"hard as nails," as men would say.

I feared it might be the other son, however, and took an early
opportunity of asking to see a photograph of the latter. My mind was
quite set at rest. It was certainly not this man's influence that I had
felt so strongly in my room.

Asking my hostess, _who_ had chiefly occupied the room, she said at
once: "Both my sons have slept there at different times," adding, "I am
sure you have some of your queer ideas about the