Such happenings as these are merely scientific, not supernatural; but in this case both my husband and myself would probably think we had seen a ghost had it not been that our education had led us into scientific studies in face of which we knew we had not seen a ghost. The present day vogue in spiritualism and kindred subjects, which shows the God of Love and the Creator of the Universe as a small-minded creature who amuses Himself frightening us poor mortals, is nothing but pure ignorance, and deserves to be put down as such. To try to get into touch with the Almighty by such trickery, for instance, as table-rapping, is simply blasphemy. I do not believe in ghosts, except as the result of our own imaginations. In “Hamlet” (Act III., Scene IV.), when the ghost enters, only Hamlet sees it. His mother, the Queen, not seeing it, thinks him mad. That ghost is merely one conjured up by Hamlet's imagination. By continually thinking about, and brooding over, the fact that he has not yet avenged his father's murder, the accusing ghost appears to him. After he has explained matters to his mother, she rightly says: “This is the very coinage of your brain, this bodiless creation.” Similarly, Brutus alone is visited by the ghost of Caesar. Only Macbeth sees the ghost of Banquo in his place at the table, and says, “The table's full.” Lennox, with surprise, replies, “Here's a place reserved, sir.” During my lifetime I have seen only one of these ghosts of the imagination. During the last year of the Great War (I was only eight years old), there were many horrible stories in circulation among my schoolfellows about the Kaiser. What an effect they had on my imagination! I could go nowhere in the dark alone. Even when accompanied, I saw awful phantoms: sometimes bold and prominent, sometimes misty and indistinct, but always with spiked helmets—and always Kaisers! As soon as it grew dark my life was a perfect misery. I was thankful I did not sleep alone. When the war ended these ghosts gradually faded and, again, I could venture in the dark alone! I am sure that people imagine the ghosts they see in lonely woods and on lonely heaths. The weird noises they hear are natural—perhaps magnified by their imaginations. Even when not magnified, the sighing and shrieking of the wind in the trees and the mournful hootings of the owl are very eerie!