"Well; it is less common than other forms of feverishness, but will probably yield to the same remedies," was his only comment. "You do not believe in ghosts?" "Pardon me, I do, just as I believe in all symptoms. When my patient tells me he hears bells ringing in his ear, or feels the ground swaying under his feet, I believe him implicitly, though I know nothing of the kind is actually taking place. The ghost, so far, belongs to the same class as the other experiences, that it is a symptom--it may be of a very trifling, it may be of a very serious, disorder." The voice, the keen flash of the eye, impressed me. I recognised one of those alert intelligences, beside whose vivid flame the mental life of most men seems to smoulder. I wished to hear him speak again. "Is this your view of all supernatural manifestations?" "Of all so-called supernatural manifestations; I don't understand the word or the distinction. No event which has actually taken place can be supernatural. Since it belongs to the actual it must be governed by, it must be the outcome of, laws which everywhere govern the actual--everywhere and at all times. In fact, it must be natural, whatever we may think of it." "Then if a miracle could be proven, it would be no miracle to you?" "Certainly not." "And it could convince you of nothing?" "Neither me nor any one else who has outgrown his childhood, I should think. I have never been able to understand the outcry of the orthodox over their lost miracles. It makes their position neither better nor worse. The miracles could never prove their creeds. How am I to recognise a divine messenger? He makes the furniture float about the room; he changes that coal into gold; he projects himself or his image here when he is a thousand miles away. Why, an emissary from the devil might do as much! It only proves--always supposing he really does these things instead of merely appearing to do so--it proves that he is better acquainted with natural laws than I am. What if he could kill me by an effort of the will? What if he could bring me to life again? It is always the same; he might still be morally my inferior; he might be a false prophet after all." He took out his watch and looked at it, by this simple action illustrating and reminding me of the difference between us--he talking to pass away the time, I thinking aloud the gnawing question at my heart. "And you have no hope for anything beyond this?" Something in my voice must have struck his ear, trained like every other organ of observation to quick and fine perception, for he looked at me more attentively, and it was in a gentler tone that he said-- "Surely, you do not mean for a life beyond this? One's best hope must be that the whole miserable business ends with death." "Have you found life so wretched?"