in our nervous tissue, which would make them obscurely operative even were the conscious mind to be purged of all sources of wonder. (continued next month) TRUE GHOST STORIES Edwin C. Hill talks on various subjects every night on the Columbia Broadcasting System. One evening he devoted his program to ghost stories about London that are supposed to be true. They sound very convincing and have many witnesses. We leave it to the reader whether to accept them as truth, or discard them as merely hallucinations. However, they are extremely interesting, nevertheless. Once, two sailors were roaming around London and came upon an old, but handsome, mansion. "Funny no one lives here," said one, "This shack seems too good to be left vacant." But the two sailors didn't intend to leave it vacant that night. They had no money, and thus could not pay for lodging, so they entered the old house, intending to spend the night there. After climbing to the second floor and finding a fireplace, they built a blazing fire with some wood they had secured. Curling up in some old clothes, they went to sleep beside the roaring fire. Suddenly, after many hours, one of the sailors awoke, half-conscious of some noise. There it was again! It sounded like a door being closed. Yes--that's what it must have been. A few pieces of wood to bring the dying fire to renewed activity gave him some courage, but he woke the other sailor anyway. He had hardly time to explain to his friend the reason for his disturbance, when the noise was repeated. "It's the wind," said one, and they accepted that explanation, preparing to go to sleep again, but instantly their returned with greater confirmation. Another sound. Any thoughts but of the supernatural were out of the question. This time it was footsteps--but what footsteps! Not human--not animal! They were padded sounds--something like bare feet. Nearer and nearer. Suddenly they stopped, and the door opened. Slowly--and there was revealed to their terrified senses the most horrible monstrosity imaginable. It could not be of this earth! One crazed sailor jumped past it and flew down the stairs, out of the house, and screamed in mortal terror into the streets. He told his story--and the next day the body of his companion was found mangled on the ground. He had leaped out of a second story window. Another story tells the tale of a man walking through a London park at day-break on the bank of the Thames. While passing a bridge, he spies a woman jumping into the river, and he takes off his coat preparing to save her, but a hand touches his shoulder. An officer. "It's no use," he said, "You could not save her. She is not a living woman. Return tomorrow at this time and you will see her repeat her ghastly act." The bewildered man did so, and the next morning was but a repetition of the one before.