But to come to the further sittings. Among other points discussed is the financial position of the American branch of the S.P.R., a position which, at the death of the secretary, or rather factotum, Hodgson, was anything but brilliant. And behold the somewhat strange spectacle of different members of the society debating its affairs with their defunct secretary. Shall they dissolve? Shall they amalgamate? Shall they send the materials collected, most of which are Hodgson’s, to England? They consult the dead man; he replies, gives good advice, seems fully aware of all the complications, all the difficulties. One day, in Hodgson’s lifetime, when the society was found to be short of funds, an anonymous donor had sent the sum necessary to relieve it from embarrassment. Hodgson alive did not know who the donor was; Hodgson dead picks him out among those present, addresses him by name and thanks him publicly. On another occasion, Hodgson, like all the spirits, complains of the extreme difficulty which he finds in conveying his thought through the alien organism of the medium: “I find now difficulties such as a blind man would experience in trying to find his hat,” he says. But, when, after so much idle chatter, William James at last puts the essential questions that burn our lips—“Hodgson, what have you to tell us about the other life?”—the dead man becomes shifty and does nothing but seek evasions: “It is not a vague fantasy but a reality,” he replies. “But,” Mrs. William James insists, “do you live as we do, as men do?” “What does she say?” asks the spirit, pretending not to understand. “Do you live as men do?” repeats William James. “Do you wear clothing and live in houses?” adds his wife. “Oh yes, houses, but not clothing. No, that is absurd. Just wait a moment, I am going to get out.” “You will come back again?” “Yes.” “He has got to go out and get his breath,” remarks another spirit, named Rector, suddenly intervening.