And so he has left the matter. The experiences were certainly strange, yes, but in his judgment, not strange enough. On the other hand, he is reluctant to believe they were due to fraud, and he is quite convinced that he was not a victim of hallucinations. If Mrs. Jencken were a clever fraud “her acting was as wonderful as her conjuring.” She practically never made an intelligent remark on any occasion. “Her interests seemed to be limited to the spirits and her baby.” In investigating this subject he finds that the attitude of convinced believers makes a difficulty. They “take no pains over the details of evidence on which everything depends.” Others attribute all these phenomena to the devil and will have nothing to do with them. “I have sometimes pointed out that if during the long hours of séances we could keep the devil occupied in so comparatively harmless a manner we deserved well of our neighbours.” The general disbelief in scientific circles that meteorites really came from outer space occurs to him. This disbelief was due, he points out, to the impossibility of producing the phenomena at pleasure in our laboratories. Nevertheless, the disbelief was unjustified. Spirit manifestations may be, he thinks, just such sporadic phenomena. The situation is made worse by the fact that there has undoubtedly been a great deal of fraud in connection with spiritualist phenomena. Eusapia Palladino, for instance, undoubtedly practised deception, “but that is not the last word.” Telepathy puzzles him. If there is such a means of communication, why should Nature have adopted the laborious method of building up our very complicated senses? An antelope in danger from a lion, for instance, depends on his senses and speed. “But would it not be simpler if he could know something telepathically of the lion’s intention, even if it were no more than vague apprehension warning him to be on the move?” He advises the society to continue their investigations, and mentions that it is quality, not quantity, that is so desirable in evidence. He concludes by saying that he fears his attitude, or want of attitude, will be disappointing to some members of the society. He suggests that after forty-five years of hesitation “it may require some personal experience of a compelling kind to break the crust.” He apologises for this. “Some of those who know me best think that I ought to be more convinced than I am. Perhaps they are right.” There he leaves us. We do not believe more or disbelieve less, yet we are completely satisfied. His massive sincerity, his obvious competence and, above all, that impression of exquisite balance, have charmed us. So far as present evidence is concerned we feel that while he has said nothing he has also said the last word. That is the function of the sceptic. THE SCIENTIFIC MIND