their own investigations, “assume the good faith of the other side of life.” The most serious warnings as to possible dangers to the inquirer come from men of high character and responsible position, who accept the tenets of Spiritualism. I The Church has taught in every age that man’s soul is engaged in warfare with unseen powers. St. Paul’s words in Ephesians vi. 11, 12, are impressively rendered by Dr. Moffatt: “Put on God’s armour so as to be able to stand against the stratagems of the devil. For we have to struggle not with blood and flesh, but with the Angelic Rulers, the Angelic Authorities, the potentates of the dark present, the spirit-forces of evil in the heavenly sphere.” There is no stranger, more disputed, passage in Dante’s “Purgatorio” than that in which the poet represents the evil serpent seeking to gain access to the penitents on the lower slopes of the Mount. Sinless they are, but they have not reached the terraces of suffering; they are waiting, pale and humble, for permission to move upward at daybreak, and they sing the compline hymn. Guardian angels come at once to the defence of those whose rest in the flowery dell is disturbed by thoughts of the adversary. These angels, as Maria Rossetti says, are “green-winged and robed for hope, golden-haired and radiant-visaged for glory, with fiery swords against the lurking serpent, with blunted swords towards the reposing elect, falcons to watch, falcons to fly, moved swifter than seen to move.” Those penitents of Dante’s “Dell of Princes” would have echoed the words with which John Bunyan closed the first part of the “Pilgrim’s Progress”: “I saw that there was a way to hell even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the city of destruction.” Would they not, as the dawn-light guided them upward to St. Peter’s gate, have warned Christian souls on earth against any tampering with “spirit-forces of evil”? “Principalities and powers, Mustering their unseen array, Wait for thy unguarded hours; Watch and pray.” II Mental and moral wreckage may be the fate of those who surrender the will in a vain attempt to lift the curtain of unseen realms. It was an ancient belief that evil spirits could not obtain a footing in any house unless the inmate gave them a deliberate invitation to enter. “Reverend father,” says Magdalen in “The Abbot,” “hast thou never heard that there are spirits powerful to rend the walls of a castle asunder when once admitted, which yet cannot enter the house unless they are invited, nay, dragged, over the threshold?” We remember how Coleridge uses the same superstition in the mysterious fragment, “Christabel”: “The lady sank, belike thro’ pain. And Christabel with might and main Lifted her up, a weary weight, Over the threshold of the gate; Then the lady rose again, And moved as she were not in pain.”